#dean winchester x cupid!reader

[ostaramoon]

december *⁀➷ dean winchester

✧.* dean x cupid!reader — part 3!!

— it's christmas tiiiime, and now dean is getting bossed around by his cupid to prepare the bunker for the holiday. he's totally loving it, just don't tell anyone. cw! fluff! fluff! holiday fluff and wait—you do what under a mistletoe? heated kissing, strong language, 18+ wc! 6.3k masterlist for previous parts

You’re sitting crisscrossed on the living room floor, barely a foot away from the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean had left early in the morning for supplies, leaving you to follow Sam around the bunker like a shadow. You peppered him with endless questions about hunting, lore books, and the monsters they hunted until his patience started to fray. A tough feat with the ever sympathetic Sam, but somehow you keep managing to push that boundary with both the Winchesters. When the topic turned to his love life—your innocent curiosity fully unhinged—Sam had finally cracked. To remedy the situation, he popped in a DVD, and it only took a few seconds for you to become completely absorbed into the grinch who stole christmas. 

The sound of the bunker door opening and slamming shut breaks the movie’s spell for a moment. Dean’s heavy boots clamber down the stairs as he grumbles, “Unbelievable. Two other mouths this food is feedin’ and not a single hand to help unload the car.”

You don’t budge, the movie is far more compelling than whatever Dean’s annoyed about. What did not go unnoticed by the disgruntled man was your attention being on the screen, instead of on him. None of your usual circling around him asking what he got at the store like you usually do. The thought buzzed around in his brain as he put the groceries away. A pesky little feeling of wanting your attention setting him on edge. He couldn’t even help himself, peeking out of the kitchen a few times to look back at your hypnotized form. 

The vibrant hues of the screen reflected in your pupils as you watched each grumpy humph and retort from the Grinch. You found the oddly green and fluffy thing endearing, his antics making you think of another huffing, grumbling, dramatic man. 

Suddenly, a soft brown teddy bear appears in your line of sight. The stuffed animal disrupts your viewing, staring back at you with shiny black eyes and a stitched-in smile. You blink, eyes trailing up the arm holding it. Dean towers over you, wearing his usual grumpy scowl—an expression that contrasts so sharply with the stuffed bear in his hand that you almost laugh.

“Here,” he gruffs, shaking the bear slightly. “You wouldn’t shut up about wanting one on our last hunt, and the store had some, so…”

Your brows knit in confusion, raking your brain until you remember the bears at the gala. Cute and just begging for you to take home. Too much action of the night led to you leaving without a new plush friend, and you did bring it up to Dean at least once. Maybe twice, four or five times at most. 

Realizing Dean was actually listening to your spiels—despite his expressions making you think otherwise—makes your face light up with a radiant smile. You take the bear gingerly, cradling it like something precious. It’s plump, soft, and better than the ones at the gala. Settling it into your lap, you resume your movie watching, tucking the bear snugly as if it’s watching the film with you.

Dean’s frown softens—just a little—as he watches.

You lift a finger to point at the screen, peering up at him with furrowed brows. “Dean, this movie says Christmas is a holiday in December. It’s December now, but you and Sam haven’t said anything about this Christmas stuff.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like he’s hunting for an escape route. “It’s… made up,” he shrugs. “Not a real holiday.”

“Oh,” you murmur, frown tugging at your lips as you look back at the TV. Holidays are becoming one of your favorite things these days. You were aloofly aware that humans had traditions, but there were so many over the course of human history that you never bothered to keep track. Now that the Winchesters have clued you in on some of these celebrations, you find it hard to believe the boys can be so lax about participating. And although you try your damn hardest not to be overly excited over learning new things, the joy that holidays brought you was a Pandora's box you’ve decided to leave cracked open. 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air as he walks into the room, a deep sigh trailing behind him. “Why are you lying to her about Christmas?”

“Lying?” You whip your head between the brothers, wide-eyed. 

Sam shoots Dean a look—one that says fix it—while Dean smiles coolly back, clearly unbothered.

“I’m not—” Dean starts, but Sam raises a brow. Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Okay, fine. I lied. But we’re not—”

“We have to prepare!” you shout, leaping to your feet. Screw containing excitement. The movie showed you the wonderful intensity of this Christmas thing, and you’d be damned if you let Dean grumble his way out of this one. 

The teddy bear tumbles to the floor, forgotten for the moment. “We need a tree, and presents, and cookies, and sweaters!” You list, recounting from the film. Your gaze falls back to the bear, and you scoop it up quickly, holding it close. Your eyes sparkle as you coo, “Grumpy Bear needs a sweater, too.”

Dean freezes. “Grumpy Bear?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “Wait—Grumpy Bear?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod eagerly, trying not to laugh at your own joke and ruin it. Jokes were hard and you’re still getting the hang of them. “I named him after Dean.”

Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sam fails to stifle his chuckle. “You’re killin’ me, lovebird,” Dean mutters under his breath.

“Alright, then,” Sam interjects, clapping his hands together before pointing at you and Dean, “you two go out and get us a tree and what-not. I’ll stay here and get the bunker ready.” He’s sporting a smug grin, clearly satisfied with his swift evasion of having to do any of the brunt work.

“What? Dude—no.” Dean shoots back, his head tilting as he sighs. 

“That’s a perfect plan, Sam!” you chirp back, placing Grumpy Bear on the couch. You don’t give Dean the chance to protest further, darting to grab your shoes and jacket while the brothers bicker in the living room. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Impala hums steadily along the snowy road, but your focus is on the radio’s dial. Before you left the bunker, Sam had pulled you aside, helpfully informing you of the radio stations that play nonstop festive music this time of year. You memorized his quick instructions: Just turn the right dial, he’d said, until the static gives way to something jolly and christmas-y.

So far, though, all you’ve found is static—and the longer it drags on, the more Dean radiates a particular brand of agitation that’s starting to fill the car.

“Love,” he finally says, his voice tight with thinly veiled annoyance, “what are you doing?”

“Hang on, I just have to find—” You twist the dial a little more, and finally, success. The opening notes of have a holly jolly christmas crackle through the speakers, soft and cheerful. Satisfaction pools through you at the sound. A stark contrast to the usual sounds coming from the impala’s speakers: loud, crashing instruments with throaty vocals and a single song lasts for what feels like forever. Classic rock, he once told you, nothin’s better than the classics. 

Dean groans like you’ve just personally offended him and immediately reaches over to change the station, but you’re faster. You swat his hand away with a firm pout.

“No way, Grinch.” You shake your head, crossing your arms triumphantly. “It’s Christmas time, and we’re getting into the spirit.”

Dean’s eyes flick between you and the road, and though his expression starts off sour, you can see the amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. Sam had warned you this would happen. He’d even told you exactly what to say when Dean inevitably tried to kill the Christmas cheer: Just say something about getting into the Christmas spirit, and be firm, Cupid. You know how he gets. 

“Grinch, huh?” Dean mutters, throwing you a sidelong glance. “Alright, fine. I’ll let it slide this one time. But for the record,” his finger goes up in protest, “I am not the Grinch.”

“Oh, no?” You grin, eyes playfully scowling at him. “Mean, grumpy guy up on the mountain gets all gushy when someone’s nice to him for once? Sounds like someone I might know.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, finally giving in to the playful banter. “Grumpy, mean—fine. But I do not do gushy.”

Hearing his laugh makes your heart flutter, the sound feeling like a trophy when he’s usually at his wit ends with you. Dean was in general a pessimistic guy, that much you’ve noticed. And he was mean when he first met you, and wrongly assumed you’d be an annoying mouthpiece from heaven. But in the months you’ve spent following him around, you’ve started to figure out how to make that scowl melt into a big smile. 

It was hit or miss most of the time, but you always were a bit of a boundary pusher. 

“You do, too.” you press mockingly.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, brows quirking, “Is that so? Well if I’m the grinch that makes you, what—my Cindy Lou Who?” His face squints with his words. 

“Exactly,” you chirp, practically glowing with pride. Without thinking, you reach over, placing a small hand on his chest. “And I’m gonna make sure that heart grows three sizes, Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes flicker between you and your hand. His mouth twitching into a lopsided smile as he shakes his head. “I bet you will, lovebird,” he murmurs, voice softer now as you retract into your seat and he focuses on the road again. “I bet you will.”

The playful warmth lingers as the Impala rolls on, the car filling with soft holiday tunes and the quiet hum of the engine. You nod along to the music, sneaking glances at Dean as he drums his fingers against the wheel in time with the song.

The scenery outside begins to shift, and Dean slows the car, turning onto a gravel driveway. The worn out sign on the left side gate at the entrance reads, The Ginger Family Farm – Christmas Trees & Reindeer!

Your gaze sharpens as you sit up straighter, a large red barn sits on the hill, surrounded by neat lines of snowy pine trees. It’s an old and faded structure, but the chimney bellows smoke and the doors are propped open. From this distance all you can see are the twinkling lights inside and movement from the people within. But it’s the pasture near the entrance that really catches your attention. A herd of reindeer grazes lazily by a fence, their soft brown fur gleaming in the afternoon sun. Another faded sign beside them reads: Santa’s Helpers Live Here!

Dean hasn’t even fully parked when you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him, climbing into his lap to get a better look out of his window.

“Dean,” you whisper, eyes alight with wonder as your nose grazes against the glass, “are those… reindeer?”

He glances down at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Yep,” he replies, reaching over your frame to throw the car into park.

“They’re real?” you ask, turning to him with wide eyes, equal parts skeptical and fascinated. “I mean, I knew they were real, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually see them.”

Dean chuckles as he pops his door open, an arm going around your waist to stop you from tumbling out of the open door. “Real enough. But don’t get your hopes up—they don’t fly.”

You slide out after him, giving him a mildly exasperated look. “I know they don’t fly, Dean. Our universe has exactly three beings with wings: birds, bugs and angels. That much I am sure of.”

Dean snorts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he watches you drift toward the fence, your curiosity written all over your face. The way your head starts to tilt, lips popping open as your eyes start to squint. Dean has witnessed this look more than a handful of times now, and it still has that same damn effect of making him want to watch you explore new things all day. 

But it also makes his heart twist and strain as the pounding reverberates throughout his entire body. The kind of thing he does not want to think deeper about. You’re just cute, that’s all, and what kind of monster would say no to something so, damn, cute?

“You wanna go say hi?” Dean calls after you, his voice light and teasing.

You glance back at him, a shy smile finding your lips. “I can do that?”

“Sure, bet there’s some kid over there feeding them carrots. You can be next in line.” He teases.

The teasing goes over your head, as all you really heard was Dean agreeing to something. Without hesitation, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the pasture. “Fine by me, but you’re feeding them. I don’t do well with teeth.” you shutter. 

Dean raises his brows, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. He tucks that comment away for later, adding it to the growing list of your quirks that simultaneously baffle and charm him. But you’re tugging him across the snowy field, all bright-eyed and—oh god—giggly, you’re giggling. He can’t bring himself to stop you.

And if his hand stays wrapped in yours a little longer than necessary—warm and steady against the cold air—well, that’s between him and his not-so-Grinch-sized heart.

As you approach the pasture, the reindeer lift their heads, their large, black eyes blinking lazily in your direction. One of them—a particularly curious-looking one with a slightly crooked antler—takes a few cautious steps closer to the fence.

You freeze mid-step, tucking yourself closer to Dean. “It’s coming over here,” you hiss, half-whisper, half-excited gasp. You weren’t used to animals of this size, a nervousness you’re still getting used to feeling creeps up your spine. With your hand still intertwined in his, you use your free hand to clutch his arm and merely peek at the animal from the safety of Dean’s side. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the idea,” Dean replies, deadpan, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement.

The reindeer stops a few feet away, eyeing you both with what you can only describe as mild suspicion. You tighten your grip on Dean’s hand and arm, big eyes peering up at him expectantly as you nudge him forward slightly. “Okay, go on, you first.”

Dean snorts, stepping forward to the fence. “It’s a reindeer, not a beast. Relax.” He leaves your side, the winter air hitting him a little harder without your warmth pressed against his side. Leaning against the wooden fence, he holds out a tentative hand like he’s done this a thousand times before.

To your surprise, the reindeer moves closer, sniffing at his fingers. You watch, wide-eyed, as it nudges Dean’s palm with its fuzzy pink nose.

“See? Not so bad,” Dean coos, glancing back at you with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Sure, you’re the reindeer whisperer. But if I try that, it’s probably gonna bite me.”

“Doesn’t even have teeth to bite with,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“You’re lying again, aren’t you?” you mutter, eyes sizing into slits from suspicion. Dean shrugs, but the smirk on his face instills your weariness. 

Hesitantly, you shuffle closer. Keeping close to Dean, so that most of his body is between you and the animal, you tentatively reach out. Dean’s large hands contrast yours when they’re side by side like this, and he impatiently moves yours to touch the curious snout. 

A quiet, nervous gasp escapes you, but the reindeer only leans into your touch. It’s nose is soft and velvety. The feel of it momentarily puts out your nervous flames. Dean gently maneuvers you in front of him to give you ample space for petting, leaning down to your ear he speaks softly, “There you go, little angel. Just be gentle, alright? Don’t wanna spook ‘em.” 

The words spook ‘em makes you jump back, but there’s little space to move with Dean being so close. Making you become a stumbling mess between him and the fence. Your harsh movements scares the reindeer, as the nimble animal darts back to it’s herd. Leaving you huffing with your heart pounding.

With your hands now safely back at your sides, you feel Dean’s chest rumble with laughter as you whip around to shoot him a scowl. “Not funny, Dean.” you whine, watching as he struggled to pull himself out of the laughing fit. 

A familiar sound, music like the kind you found in the car, turns your attention to the old barn. You take notice of the small cluster of families near the entrance, their arms full of freshly cut Christmas trees. The warm glow of string lights spills out from the open barn doors, illuminating the snow-dusted path leading up to it.

With one more flash of sharpened eyes at Dean, you march on towards the cosy atmosphere on the hill. Dean quickly falls in line, mumbling half-hearted apologies through the fading bubbles of laughter.

Stepping into the barn, the scent of fresh pine and hay wrap around you like a warm blanket. Inside, a few people mingle and look around the shop. A large wooden counter sits in the center, where an elderly man with kind eyes and a bushy white beard greets you with a wide smile.

Dean leans into your ear again as walks past, quickly murmuring, “That’s definitely Santa.” He pulls away with a glimmering smirk and shoots you a wink as he approaches the counter. 

“Looking for a tree?” The man in a buffalo plaid jacket asks, his voice warm and welcoming. Your thoughts briefly wonder if he is Santa. But if a spirit actually went around invading people’s houses on the same night every year, surely Sam and Dean would have done something about it by now. You settle on a quiet suspicion that you would not be asking Dean about. 

Dean glances at you, green eyes softening. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than usual. “Somethin’ nice. She’s got high standards, this one.” He gestures to you with a big, charming smile. You nod back, not entirely sure what high standards for a tree would be, but you’re certain the bunker would need the best damn tree available. 

Dean starts talking about height, type, and price with mr-may-or-may-not-be-Santa—a conversation that makes your brain wonder elsewhere. The barn was warm and something behind the counter mixed a chocolatey scent into the pine air. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with syrup bottles, boxes of pastries, and Christmas themed trinkets. You moved towards them to get a closer look and search for anything pie-like for Dean. 

As you muse around the small space, a basket of small, handwoven angel-dolls catches your eye. Curious, you step closer and pick one up, tilting your head as you inspect its delicate details. Each doll is unique, with different hair and skin tones, but they all share the same serene, closed-eyed expression. They look kind. Peaceful. So different from the angels you once knew in Heaven. 

The quiet shuffle of boots behind you signals Dean’s approach. His jacket brushes the back of yours as he leans over your shoulder, his gaze following yours to the doll.

“That’s what we put on the top of the tree,” he says casually.

“Why?” you ask, tucking the angel back into its basket.

“Uh, not sure, really. Maybe—”

A gentle clink, clink, clink interrupts him. You both turn toward the sound to see the jolly man behind the counter holding a silver bell high over his head. His grin stretches wide over his rosy face as he announces, “You two are the first of the season!”

Dean’s brows furrow. “The first what?” he mutters under his breath, while your own confusion mirrors his.

The man gestures upward with a wink, then turns back to his work. Dean follows his motion, his head tilting back, he sees it. “Oh god,” he whispers with a quiet groan. 

“What?” Your eyes trail up, finding a small sprig of green with red berries hanging over your heads. 

“Mistletoe,” he answers flatly.

Your head tilts with curiosity, still staring at the small fixture, “and that means?”

Dean hesitates, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “You’re supposed to kiss whoever you’re caught underneath it with. And if you don’t, you get bad luck.” 

Your lips twitch as you stifle a giggle. The thought of humans, for centuries, kissing beneath a little spring for the sake of good luck. Humans and their little quirks, never ceasing to entertain you. “How romantic.” you muse, that mischievous look, the one Dean has learned to recognize, is glowing in your eyes again.

He shifts uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck,  “It’s a stupid superstition we don’t—”

You’re not even paying attention to the words coming from his mouth. Instead, you lean onto your tiptoes, grabbing his wide shoulders for support as your lips place a soft kiss against his. He’s warm against your skin, his hands instinctively finding their place at your hips, causing goosebumps to ripple along your skin. Hot and dizzying. The sensation is so exciting that a light bulb clicks on inside your mind. This must be why humans kiss under a damn sprig. 

It’s over just as quick, a fleeting touch, but enough to leave Dean frozen in place. When you pull back, his wide-eyed expression makes you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You briefly wonder if kissing him when he’s grumpy would leave the same effect. A thought you’ll probably test, as it cements itself into the fabrics of your mind.

“You’re looking at me funny.” You say with a laugh. The innocence in your voice makes Dean’s head spin. Batting your lashes up at him like a kiss is as simple as a high five. 

He blinks, green eyes raking your face as he processes what just happened, “You just kissed me.”

“Mhm,” you hum nonchalantly, thinking nothing of it.

“But you’re an angel—cupid or whatever.”

You arch a brow, tilting your head as if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Dean falters, gesturing vaguely. “I figured you’d be… you know, above that sort of thing.”

The corners of your lips twitch as you suppress a smile, your voice soft but teasing. “Did you think that means I’m some sort of prude, Dean Winchester?”

“Well, yeah,” he admits, still too caught off guard to filter his words. “Kinda.”

You shrug, your eyes alight with quiet amusement. “I’ve never been afraid of a little sin.”

Dean stares at you, utterly baffled, his mouth opening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. His mind spins in circles, caught somewhere between disbelief and the faintest flicker of something he refuses to name.

Finally, he shakes his head and mutters, “Lovebird, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin, the playful spark in your eye only growing. “Maybe. But at least you won’t have bad luck now.”

Dean groans, running a hand down his face as he turns toward the barn’s open doors. “C’mon, let’s just find a damn tree and get out of here before you decide to test any more sins on me.”

But as he walks ahead, his heart beats a little faster, and he doesn’t dare think too much about why he already misses the warmth of your lips.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you sure the Santa guy said you could do this?” You ask, your voice tinged with doubt as you glance between Dean and the awfully large axe slung over his shoulder.

Dean stands there, the very picture of confidence, one hand propped on his hip and the other gripping the axe like he’s posing for the cover of Lumberjack Monthly. His eyes rake over the tallest tree in the grove, a determined smirk playing on his lips. Somehow, he’d sweet-talked the man at the counter into letting him chop down the damn tree himself—a detail you’re still struggling to wrap your head around.

Your eyes timidly look over the rest of the trees. Some were already cut, bound in netting and propped against fences. Closer to the barn, a few families stand around men, dressed in matching plaid and denim, as they expertly axe down the pine—the way it’s supposed to go, a tradition you quickly picked up on. 

Dean doing it himself, when you assume he’s never taken down a tree before, does not feel like the right way to go about the tradition. 

“Cupid,” Dean sighs dramatically, still appraising the tree, “I chop vamp heads for a living. I think I can handle a little tree.”

You eye the towering pine skeptically. “I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘little.’”

Dean turns to you, his smirk widening as a glint of mischief flashes in his eyes. “That’s what—” He stops mid-sentence, recoiling at himself as he shakes his head. “Nope. Nope. Not doin’ it.”

You blink at him, confused by his abrupt backpedaling, but before you can ask, he’s already stepping up to the tree and hefting the axe like it’s a wonky baseball bat.

With a hefty swing, the blade lodges into the trunk with a solid thud. Dean pauses, straightening to inspect his handiwork, though his furrowed brow suggests he’s less than impressed.

Letting out a frustrated huff, he shrugs off his jacket and shoves it into your hands. “Hold this,” he mutters, already focused on pulling the axe free for another attempt.

You dutifully clutch the jacket, taking a tentative step back as Dean lines up his next swing. The follow-through chips a small piece from the trunk, sending it flying through the air. Your gaze tracks it as it lands quietly in the snow.

“Dean,” you whine softly, glancing around at the other families in the field who seem to be having a much smoother time letting professionals handle the chopping. “Maybe we should—”

A sharp crack interrupts you, the sound startling as it echoes through the crisp air. Your breath catches as you snap your attention back to Dean, who’s now whistling under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alright!” he cheers, his grin wide and triumphant as he puts more force behind his swings. The tree trembles with each impact, the gap between trunk and stump widening until, at last, the entire pine groans and falls with a muffled thud into the snow.

Dean chucks the axe to the ground, throwing his arms up in victory. His breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby!”

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the tree in awe. It’s not just any tree, you realize—it’s your very first Christmas tree. The thought sinks in, filling you with a fizzy warmth that bubbles up into a grin so wide it makes your cheeks ache. Without thinking, you hop across the snow to where Dean is standing, your boots crunching beneath you.

“You did it!” you squeak, your voice breathless with excitement as you fling your arms around his neck.

The hug catches Dean off guard, but his hands instinctively settle at your waist, pulling you closer and lifting you just slightly off the ground. He’s sturdy, like an anchor, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still despite the crisp air and the snow swirling gently around you.

You pull back a fraction, your arms still looped loosely around his neck, and Dean looks down at you, his own grin softening. His chest tightens unexpectedly at the sight of you—eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe from something else entirely. The joy radiating from you feels almost too much, too bright, too... vulnerable.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as the warmth of the moment wraps around him.

“Oh, lover,” he murmurs, the nickname tumbling out unbidden, his voice low and almost reverent. “you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. For my own sake.”

Your grin falters for just a second, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Like what?” you ask softly, your voice almost unsure, as if the words themselves hold a weight you can’t quite grasp.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head like he’s trying to brush off the way his stomach twists at your innocent question. “Never mind,” he mutters, his hands lingering just a moment too long before gently setting you back on the snowy ground.

You don’t linger on his words, too focused on the tree, and how it doesn’t make you feel jittery and nervous like the way looking Dean in the eye is making you feel. “C’mon, Dean,” you say, your voice bright again, “let’s get this Christmas tree home!”

Dean watches you bounce toward the tree’s trunk, your laughter dancing in the air like the snowflakes falling around you. His chest feels tight again, but this time, he doesn’t fight it. The way your smile lingers in his mind feels dangerous, but he can’t seem to let it go. 

Against his own better judgement, he lets himself soak it all in—the smile he puts on your face, the way your excitement feels like a kiss from the sun in the dead of winter.

He exhales slowly, his breath visible in the cold air, and picks up the axe with a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Watching you crouch to inspect the tree like it’s the most magical thing you’ve ever seen, he reels in the inexplicable warmth settling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself, his voice soft. “Let’s get it home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Back at the bunker…

The living room feels much more cozy with all of the festive decor priming the room. The scent of pine mingling with the usual smell of dust and old books. The tree is nearly perfect—twinkling lights casting a golden glow, red and green ornaments catching the light in sparkling bursts. But the top remains bare.

The three of you are finishing up the tree, clad in matching sweaters. Dean let you pick them out, each adorning little reindeer and ‘oh deer’ written across the image with sparkling jewels. 

“You’re too far to the left, Sam!” you call out, hands on your hips as you stand beside Dean.

“It’s centered,” Sam retorts, utilizing his full height and wing span as he adjusts the angel at the top of the tree.

“No, she’s right,” Dean cuts in frankly, arms crossed. He squints up at the angel. “It’s a little crooked. Just tilt it—”

Sam groans. “You two are impossible.”

You nudge Dean with your elbow, grinning up at him. “Told you I have a good eye.”

Dean smirks, shaking his head. “You? A good eye?” He shakes his head, smirking.  “Please.”

With an exaggerated huff, Sam adjusts the angel one more time, muttering something under his breath about “backseat decorators.” But when both you and Dean gasp in unison, he pauses to look down.

“Better?”

“Perfect!” you both chime at the same time, your voices overlapping in synchronicity.

You glance at Dean, giggling at the moment’s absurdity, only to find him already looking at you. His grin softens, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer, deeper.

“Told you teamwork makes the dream work,” he gloats, but his voice is quieter, almost teasing.

You look away quickly, that funny warmth spreading to your cheeks again. The way he keeps looking at you today, all that warmth in his pretty green eyes—it’s too much. There’s a warm gooey feeling stirring in your chest, the intensity of new emotions is always exhausting. But this? You’re not even sure how you’re still standing when your knees keep going weak. 

Your hand brushes against the weight in your pocket, the mistletoe you had swiped earlier suddenly feeling heavier. The memory of the earlier kiss flashes in your mind, and your stomach flutters nervously. What if—no. You can’t just stand here thinking about it. God, no. You have a thought to chase down and explore.

“I, um… I’ll be right back!” you blurt out, spinning on your heel before either brother can question you.

Dean blinks, caught off guard. “What? Where are you—?”

But you’re already halfway down the hall, moving faster than you probably need to. Sam and Dean share confused looks, the younger brother shrugging before turning back to the tree to adjust some of the ornaments. Dean tries to let it go, but he’d actually enjoyed having you so close to him all day, he couldn’t just shake the annoyance he felt at your absence. 

Meanwhile, your quickened pace comes to a harsh stop at your room, heart racing. Clumsily pulling the small spring from your pocket, you fasten it to the doorframe with a piece of tape.  You step back to admire your handiwork, a sly grin spreading across your face despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Dean!” you call out, your voice light and sing-songy, “can you come here for a sec?”

His boots are heavy against the floor as he approaches, stopping just short of the doorway. His eyes narrow as they take in your giddy grin and the way you’re practically bouncing in place. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, suspicious.

You point upward, your smile widening as his gaze follows your gesture. The mistletoe dangles above him, and his expression shifts—part amusement, part exasperation.

“Seriously?” he drawls. “You stole that, didn’t you?”

You press your lips together, suppressing a giggle. “Borrowed,” you correct innocently.

Dean shakes his head, his lips pressing together in a way that barely hides his smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” but it’s so quiet, as if he’s only speaking to himself.

You shrug, your playful tone impossible to hide. “I’m a cupid,” you say sweetly, as if that explains everything. “And you’re under the mistletoe.” You remind him. 

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes take their time looking you up and down. Like he’s trying to measure you up, your mischievous nature making his head spin once again. 

And Dean really hates getting his mind frazzled, especially by a little thing who’s so goddamn sugary sweet.

 “Uh huh, you got me there.” 

You nod, reeling in the way he’s giving into you. “Rules are rules, Dean.”

There are about a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t entertain this. Getting caught under the mistletoe at the barn was one thing—a moment of bad timing, easily brushed off. But this? This cheeky little stunt of yours, this deliberate invitation—it’s another story entirely. You’re an angel, literally, for God’s sake. There’s gotta be rules around this growing connection that he’s been so stubbornly ignoring. That much he’s sure of. Nevermind the fact that you’re pure, a true beacon of sweet curiosity and everything he is not. 

Dean knows damn well his rough hands would quickly break something so delicate if put in his grasp. 

But you’re excited, staring at him starry-eyed. And it’s just a kiss. Hardly a real one if there’s a mistletoe commanding it, right? 

Surely, this sin can be forgiven… twice. 

For once in his life, Dean lets go of the ever-tight grip he has on his better judgment. He silences the screaming voice in his head, loosens the chains on the flickering desire he’s tried so hard to bury. His body moves before his brain can catch up, his hand lifting to your face.

His thumb presses into the soft skin of your chin, his fingers firm but gentle as they tilt your head up toward him.

Your breath catches. He pauses, leaning in close enough that the peppermint-laced warmth of his breath fans over your lips. The hesitation lasts only a heartbeat, just long enough for that voice in the back of his mind to beg him to stop.

But he doesn’t.

Dean closes the distance, his lips pressing against yours. It’s firm but not harsh, sure yet somehow keeping a tenderness he’s finding harder to deny around you. Your world tilts, heart hammering so loudly you’re certain he can feel it in your chest. For a moment, the edges of everything blur—time, space, all of it—until there’s only him.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The other finds your hip, anchoring you to him in a way that feels as much like a need as a want. Your hands move instinctively, planting firmly on either side of his neck, fingers curling into his hair for stability.

The kiss deepens, unhurried yet consuming, his lips leading and yours eagerly following. The lingering scent of pine clings faintly to him, grounding you even as the dizzying heat of his touch threatens to sweep you away.

When he finally pulls back, his chest rises and falls heavily, breaths mingling with yours in the narrow space he leaves between you. His lips linger close to yours as he murmurs, voice low and rough, “Happy now?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, still lost in the haze of what just happened. Your cheeks burn, but the giddy smile spreading across your face is impossible to contain. “Oh, I don’t know,” you tease breathlessly, tilting your head. “Maybe. I think your Grinch heart might’ve grown at least one size today.”

Dean snorts, the tension breaking as the corner of his mouth lifts into the grin you’ve been pulling out of him all day. “You’re impossible,” he says, though there’s no real bite to it. Not this time.

Even as he steps back, as he forces himself to put distance between you, his eyes stay locked on yours. Jade green and conflicted, they linger for a beat too long, like he’s trying to figure out what on god’s green earth he’s just gotten himself into.

this was so long im sorry, i got a lil carried away

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam confronts Y/N on her feelings for his brother.

Warnings: basically none but it is a little angsty. Sam playing cupid. Also Sam might be ooc- sorry

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra ,

@fablesrose , @ada--44

A/N: Hi! To start off thank you so much for all the support recently I’m truly grateful for you all and i’m so happy to say I have people who seem to enjoy my writing. But on the writing note I just wanted to acknowledge a sort of plot hole:

if you have read the series up to now you probably know that it was said Y/N has a job and kept it (just doing it basically on her laptop alone) even when she went with the boys to find their Dad. I did this because I wanted a sense of independence for her as I felt like this made sense, would she drop anything to help them yes but I also don’t think she would be so quick to give up her life since she had her own house and didn’t hunt 24/7. Now as we are a little bit further into the story I don’t think she would have this job anymore but I also don’t know how to write it into the story and i don’t think i want to write a half chapter just on it (tho this might change). So for the sake of the story you can decide why she dosnt have this writing job anymore,for me I see it as she secretly quit after the skin walker hunt because she realized where her focus needed to go and how tiring hunting full time was. I also don’t think she ever brought it up to the boys out of fear of making them feel guilty, tho they probably figured it out and didn’t say anything either.

Anyways sorry for the rant i’ll let you read this now! And Happy thanksgiving to any and all who celebrate

Word Count: 819

A fool in love

(Master list, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“Here you go” Sam says, placing a cup of tea in front of me having picked up our drinks from some local place as we sat in the library trying to find a new hunt or any clues to where his Dad could be.

He didn’t have a third cup with him, Dean having not joined us deciding instead to go find a “lead” in a bar.

“Thanks” I mumble before bringing the hot drink to my lips.

He sits down in front of me, shuffling in his chair awkwardly. “Are you okay?” I laugh lightly at his odd movements. He clears his throat, “Yeah, I, uh…can we talk?”

“Of course” I smiled at him, my eyebrows scrunched together slightly.

“Promise you won’t get annoyed” He starts off. I laugh, “Okay? But I don’t know if I can exactly promise anything when I don’t know what you’re gonna say.”

“Just…promise” He held out his pinky to me, something he knew I took very seriously. I smile harder, linking my pinky with his, the very sacred promise now in effect. He studies my face carefully as if to see if I was really serious even with the pinky promise.

He bites the inside of his cheek going silent for a beat before finally speaking, “Why don’t you just tell Dean you love him?”

“Sam-“ I sigh, not knowing what to say. We’ve had this conversation before, years ago, where it was established that Sam knew my feelings for his brother.

“Why would I confess to someone who doesn't feel the same way?” I finally say.

“But he does!” He practically yells, getting weird looks from those who sat around us- library rules and all that. His face flushes a deep pink with embarrassment, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone loves you, that he loves you?

“Look where he is right now, at a bar probably getting some girl's number or even leaving with her to hook up. He clearly doesn't feel the same for me as I do him.” I explained, a little frustrated. He doesn't say anything for a while again, “I think he does that to avoid his feelings for you.”

“Yes you think but you do not know and I…” I sigh, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Don’t you notice the way he stares at you? He couldn’t keep his hands off of you” He points out, referring to the Hook Man case. “That was for a cover” I answer simply.

“There were a lot of times where there wasn’t an excuse for a cover up, like the armchair.” The mere mention of me sitting on Dean's lap makes my face feel hot.

I don’t have anything to counter that, I mean it was just to amplify me being his girlfriend for a cover. That’s what it was.

He becomes all sassy and self assured as he speaks, “See! Deep down you know I'm right, you just don’t wanna admit it. And you know what I noticed?”

“What?” I humor him, making eye contact.

“Every time you get hurt or there’s even a little bit of concern towards you he stops hiding his feelings. It’s like suddenly no other woman exists, only you.

You have to have noticed that at least.”

I bit on my bottom lip in thought, he’s right. I can think of numerous occasions where Dean had ignored very attractive women when I was hurt or in the prospect of danger, exactly as Sam said.

No.

No.

Nope.

Dean Winchester is not in love with me, it isn’t true.

“You know a couple months back” I begin, “I forget which hunt it was. But it was only like a month of being on the road with you guys and through that whole time it hadn’t mattered the circumstance, even when we were in the middle of hunting, or where we were, either way Dean was flirting or hooking up with some girl. And every single time I would feel this…this…pang in my heart or maybe like my heart had dropped into my stomach. Which only made me feel more like a fool.

So it got to a point where I just decided, you know what, I'm gonna force myself. I'm going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for him. That it doesn't pain me to see him like that with other women.

“Did it work?” He asks me, his eyes having a certain solemn look to them.

I sigh for the upteenth time, “No. For some stupid reason I can’t stop loving your brother.” He turns his eyes down towards the table.

I try to catch his eyes, “Do you get what I’m saying?”

He looks back up at me, “Yeah. My brother’s an idiot.”

I choke on my laugh, taking a deep breath before I speak, “Maybe. Or…maybe it just isn’t meant to be.”

[cheynovak]

Forest Green Eyes - PART 5 

Castiel & Y/N Winchester  

Warnings:  smut implied - hurt - angst - cursing

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words: 1928 

This story takes place after the SPN finally. Jack asked Castiel to go back to earth to be the guardian angel of Y/N. Cas accepts this task but only to discover that Y/N is the biological child of Dean.  

 

Part 6 soon  (Final)

----------------------- 

 

Castiel pulled the cover over them while Y/N snuggled by his side. “This is going to change things, isn’t it?” He asked. “Well, I hope so, more of this. More of... Us” She answered drawing circles on his chest.  

“Us, sounds good.” He said. Minutes later Y/N felt asleep while Castiel kept listening to the music that was still playing in the background.   

-- 

The next morning Y/N woke up in Castiel’s bed alone, it took a second for her to realize he wasn’t there with her. But the second she smelt the bacon in the air she knew that he was in the kitchen making breakfast. This made her smile.  

Y/N got up went back to her room to find some new clothes and took a quick shower before she going to the kitchen. She grinned stepping into the kitchen, looking at Cas his broad shoulders, already dressed and wearing an apron. “Hi handsome.” She kissed his shoulder while she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Good morning, hope you’re hungry.” He said while turning to her to kiss her.  

 

Cas watched Y/N’s every bite mesmerized by her. “Castiel, you’re staring.” - “Sorry” he said shyly.  

“Y/N last night, how.... was it.. for you?” She looked at him a little startled “I mean, was it good? I know that even though I'm much older you are the one with more, eh, experience.”  

“You’re doubting yourself Cas? It was amazing, truly.” The angel smiled softly. “Good” 

“Well what are the plans for today? She asked while finishing the last bits of her plate. “Unfortunately, I’ve been summoned to heaven.” He said. “Jack wants to talk to me. Will you be ok here?” She nodded, kissed him and before he left, she made sure his tie was straightened.  

With Castiel gone Y/N had nothing better to do than go grocery shopping. But not before she stopped at a coffeeshop for a to go coffee. When she got out, she heard a familiar voice. ”Y/N? Y/N is that really you?” - “M-mom?” The woman dropped everything she held and sprinted towards Y/N and hugged her like her life depended on it. “How, why are you here?” Was all Y/N could force to come out of her mouth. “Well, I left your dad a couple of years ago. And been moving around since then.” She said with tears in her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you. And when your picture was posted on the social media page of that bar, I knew I had to drive over here." Both women decided to have a drink and talk more.

Y/N forgave her mother. 

‘Mom, there is one question I always wanted to ask.” Her mom nodded like she already knew what Y/N was going to ask. “Who is my real dad?” Well, he was a guy I met at the bar. Real charming fella. He worked for the FBI had a case in town, well and after that he left.”  

“You look so much like him. Unbelievable.” - “If he worked for the FBI we might be able to track him.” she said softly under her breath. “You want to go looking for him?” said her mom startled. “Well, I don’t know if I want to talk to him. But at least know who he is.” She answered honestly. 

Meanwhile in heaven:  

 “Jack, you wanted to talk to me? What’s going on? Is this about Y/N?” The angel asked worried. “Nothing wrong Castiel, I wanted to tell you that I’m glad that the family is finally united. I mean we had to pull a lot of strings to finally make you two fall in love.” 

“Make us? You mean you planned this all along?” Cas asked raising his voice. “Well, heaven made sure John and Mary fell in love. Even Jess and Sam was their doing.” Jack said not entirely understanding why Castiel was upset. “Winchesters always need a little help to find their soul mates. And since I wanted you to be happy, and you are only happy on earth, I figured why not help a little.” He said proud. ” Cas, you always come back to heaven because you feel that I need you in case there is a mission. Well, I made sure there was a mission on earth.” 

 

Castiel’s eyes widened: “W-winchester? So, she is...” - “...Dean's daughter.” Jack completed his sentence. “Jack! Do you have any idea what you did! How, how am I going to be able to explain this to her? What, how did you helped, us?” Castiel asked defeated. Jack explained that he made sure a couple of different cupids crossed your way. The father and son from the car dealership, the man at the bar, the bartender, even Steve Y/N’s ex boyfriend. “I asked them to slowly awake the feelings she had inside. Not to force her to love you! Know that!”  

“Does, does Dean know about this?” The angel asked. “No, I figured it would be best for him not to know he has a child. Not yet."  

“What about me? What did the cupids do?” 

“Nothing, you fell for her. That was a risked I had to take. I hoped you had a type. Their power wouldn’t work on you.”  

Back on earth, Castiel had visited heaven for almost a week and Y/N was so kind to let her mom stay with her for the time being.  

“Cas, you’re home! How was.... Work?” She asked while the angel walked through the door. “Work?” he asked. Y/N signed toward the main room. “Ah, eh, work was fine.” And faked a smile. “So, this is the handsome fella who looked so smitten in the pictures?” Her mom called them out from inside the room. Castiel was a little in shock to see her mother in the bunker.  

“Right, Cas this is my mom, mom this is Cas my eh boyfriend.”  

“Castiel, it’s nice to meet you Mrs.” He said politely while offering her a hand. “Oh, call me Nancy. You have a special place here Castiel. Thank you for letting me stay.” The rest of the night went smooth. Y/N and her mom talked about the lost years and Cas occasionally smiled or agreed with what Y/N told.  

Later in bed. 

Castiel was holding Y/N in his arms. “Cas, don’t you think it would be nicer to move your stuff to my room? You know, share a room?” Y/N asked while letting her fingertips stroke over his arms and chest. “If you want to, sure.” He kissed her head. “But first” she got up and straddled him, placing a knee on each side of his hips. “I’m going to show you how much I missed you.” She said while placing open kisses on his neck. Castiel let out a moan placing his large hands on her thighs, while Y/N hands moved down and kissed him all over his torso. “I can’t believe I had to miss you this week. The bed was so empty without you.” Like a man possessed he sat up holding her neck with one hand while his other held her hip, kissing her hard. Pushing her closer to him so that she had no choice but to grind on him. “Oh Cas, so needy?” She teased with her lips still close to his. “I want you too, baby.” she said nearly breathless while sucking and licking his neck.  

 

But then Castiel remembered what Jack had said about the cupids. 

“Y/N, stop... STOP! “He raised his voice, pushing her of him, leaven her completely stunned sitting there. “Cas? What’s wrong?” She asked with a worried look. “Did I do something wrong?”  

“No.” He said not even looking at her. “Did something happen?” She asked holding his face in her hands trying to make him look at her. “No, no I ... I just don’t want...” He said removing her hands from his face. “You don’t want to have sex?” pausing “Or don’t you want ... me?” This question made his eyes shoot up. “Oh god, no, no that’s not what I meant. I’m just really tired Y/N” She nodded. “Heaven, it was a lot, I just want to lie down holding you watch you fall asleep. If that’s ok” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that if it wasn’t for heavens “help” she probably didn’t even want to be with him.  

“Yeah, yeah sure.” She still wasn’t certain about his answer but trusted him to tell her the truth when he was ready. 

The next morning Castiel looked better. “Why don’t I drive to the supermarket and see what I can come up with for breakfast?” "Great idea, shall I empty your closets and put it in boxes? So, we can move them to my room? Y/N asked." “Perfect!” He left through the door.  

“Need a hand?” Your mom asked? “I’d love to help instead of sitting here doing nothing." A couple of minutes later you hear your moms voice “That's him! This is your father!” Y/N turned around to see what she was talking about. She was holding a picture, the one they took at Bobby’s place with Ellen and Jo. She found it in one of Castiel’s drawers. She showed you “This is him and this taller one, that was his partner. And is that...” “... Castiel” you finish the sentence with her. “I don’t know any of the other people. But I’m damn sure that is him!”  

 

Castiel came home, you were sitting at the table with the picture and the list he made long time ago that you found while emptying all his drawers to find answers, the list where he compared your looks and characteristics to Dean’s. You asked your mother to leave for a while so you could talk to Castiel. “Hi, I didn’t find eggs. But they had pie for dessert tonight.” He said while looking at the bag.  

“Apple pie? Like I don’t now Dean’s favourite?” She asked bitsy. Castiel stopped and looked over to her. He saw the picture and the list. Y/N stood up, showing the picture to his face reading the list angry. Then looked him dead in the eyes. ‘Did you know?” His silence said enough. Y/N puffed “How long?”  

The angel looked down. “DAMMIT CAS, how long!”  

“I noticed very early on similarities. So, I thought...” Y/N didn’t let him finish “So you thought if I can’t have Dean, I’ll take the next best thing?”  

“What?! No, no that was never my intention Y/N!” She wanted to believe him but had a hard time.  

“Jack, he just told me the truth.” And so did the angel begin to explain everything Jack had told him hours ago. “So, you mean that this, us, isn’t real?” She asked with tears in his eyes. “That’s why you pushed me away last night.” It all makes sense now. “It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to hurt you.” She huffed again. “Great fucking job Cas.”  

“So, what happens now?” The angel asked with a shaky voice. Y/N looked at him, emotionless “I think your mission on earth is over Castiel. I think... you should go back to Jack and tell him to leave me alone.” She said this and the tears in her eyes started to shine. “Y/N please, don’t.” He begged. Y/N got up, letting the picture fall out of her hand in front of Castiel. “I’m going for a walk. When I come back, I want you gone.” She said without wasting another look at him.   

 

 

 ---- 

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Part 6 will be the final part  

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time ever writing here, i'm still new.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[iprobablyshipit91]

iprobablyshipit91 Fic Recs

So this started as me keeping links of all my favourite Dean Winchester fics that I finally decided to share so others could hopefully find some great stories and the authors would know how much I love their work. It’s kind of grown to a very, very huge list, but I love everyone of these works, they’re amazing and deserve so much love. I hope you find something you love on here 💕

There’s a mix of fluff, angst, smut, au etc. Please make sure you read the warnings for each story on it’s own page.

Beautiful Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Dean Winchester x Reader

Should I Stay or Should I Go by @daisythekitty

Sweet Dreams by @deanssweetheart23

Slip Up by @deanwritings

Bad Moon Rising by @hintsofhoney

Not the Planned Delivery by @lazydoodlesandfanfic

Unnamed by @lostdreamr-blog1

I’ve Got You by @spnexploration

Broken Ribs Against Fingertips by @the--blackdahlia

Motel Diablo by @waynes-multiverse

Sharing is Caring by @zepskies

Mini Date by @avanatural

The Talk by @avanatural

And Baby Makes Four by @carryonmywaywardone-shots

Nows the Time by @crashdevlin

Down on Dean by @deanwanddamons

The Prettiest One by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Always You and Me by @deanwinchesterswitch

Bullets and Bands by @deanwinchesterswitch

Capeesh? By @deanwritings

I Ship It by @deanwritings

It’s Okay by @deanwritings

Safe Now by @deanwritings

What We Lost by @deanwritings

Tell Me About… by @impala-dreamer

Glances by @kasimagines

It’s Okay, I Love You by @kasimagines

Poison by @kasimagines

Obeying Temptation by @kittenofdoomage

Sweet Satisfaction by @kittenofdoomage

Nannas Love Sammy by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Something New by @princessmisery666

Date Night by @princessmisery666

I Would Never Hurt You by @procrastinatorimagines

Frayed Ends by @scuttling

Must be Love on the Brain by @sleepywinchester

Below Freezing by @soaringeag1e

Promises by @supersleepygoat

Friendzoned by @talesmaniac89

Stupid Cupid by @talesmaniac89

Crazy on You by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Different by @watermelonlipstick

Labyrinth by @waynes-multiverse

Love on the Brain by @waynes-multiverse

Gesundheit by @waynes-multiverse

Dark Waters by @wearywinchester

Above Ground by @wearywinchester

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) by @zepppie

The Wrong Winchester by @cherry3point14

Good Things by @crashdevlin

Baby Spoon by @deanwanddamons

Rumours by @deanwinchesterswitch

Blind Love by @jawritter

Faded by @kasimagines

Sacrifice by @kasimagines

The Last Call by @kasimagines

To Know You by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Watch and Learn by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Can’t Fight This Feeling by @pink-sparkly-witch

Mischief Managed (2) by @sinfulsoulx

A Few Moments of Madness | Last Time? by @smellingofpoetry

Familiar by @spnhunter4life

Dream On by @talesmaniac89

Well, Hello There Stranger by @talesmaniac89

If You Want it to Be by @zepskies

Midnight Espresso | Devour Me by @zepskies

Clear the Area by Alisha Ashton

Many of Horror by Alisha Ashton

Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks by Alisha Ashton

In the Dark by Alisha Ashton

Comfort by @fangirlingfromdownunder

Baby, We’ve got a Problem by @deanwritings

Night Falls by @deanwritings

Captives of the Court by @impala-dreamer

Carry On by @jawritter

My Saviour by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Heart of a Hunter by @muchamusedaboutnothing

The Widow by @pink-sparkly-witch

The One That Got Away by @pink-sparkly-witch

Hold On I’m Coming by @ravengirl94

The Arrangement by @ravengirl94

Long Way Home by @supersleepygoat

Cross my Heart by @smol-and-grumpy

Home to You by @smol-and-grumpy

Collared by @spnexploration

Pack by @spnexploration

Limelight by @talesmaniac89

Charity Heist by @talesmaniac89

The Man in Apartment 43 by @talesmaniac89

Practically Magic by @thelibrarylesstrektraveled

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 1 by @waywardaardvark79

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 2 by @waywardaardvark79

Miscommunication by @winchest09

Don’t Say a Word by @winchester-girl67

Never Say Goodbye by @zepskies

[ultravi0lence14]

Snow Bunny

dean winchester x angel!reader

895 | fluff

summary: you love the snow, and dean isn’t just getting flushed cheeks from the cold.

dean watched as you trotted through the snow like an overtly hyper bunny, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you twirled around in the blizzard.

you’d never been down to earth before, so when your first snow storm hit, dean couldn’t ignore the squeal that filtered through the bunker halls from your lips. you had run outdoors so quickly that the eldest winchester had to remind you about putting on layers.

ever since the weather had dropped, you’d been outside everyday. a striped scarf tightly wrapped around your neck as sam’s old carhartt jacket adorned your upper half. dean didn’t like the sight of you in his younger brother’s clothes, but it was all they had, and dean would rather little flints of jealousy than you freezing to death.

dean heard your giggles of excitement from where he stood by the bunker entrance, watching you adjust the crème earmuffs on your head. the strangest thing wasn’t dean’s massive boots on your feet so you wouldn’t freeze, it was the fact that you didn’t even want to play in the snow, just admire it.

attempting to get you to at least throw a snowball, dean stopped trying after the copious amounts of questions about snow angels and why they were named after you. so dean just watched, a genuine smile on his lips for the first time in a while.

he admired the snow that decorated your hair, making you look like a renowned painting. the way your denim skirt and white tights clung to your legs had his mouth watering, remembering all the things you had let him do to you last night.

the thoughts running around dean’s mind was halted by the sweet sound of your voice calling his name. he immediately looked over to you, watching as you excitedly waved him over to where you stood.

his strides were quick, a harrowing feeling in his gut that needed your body close to his. when he reached the place you stood, dean’s arms brushed out in front of his body; wrapping one arm around your waist so he could pull you to his chest, the other delicately brushing the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“what is it, my love?” dean breathed out, the softest his voice has possibly ever sounded. but he realized it did that a lot around you. soften. the thrones usually wrapped around his rough and hard voice pruned and delicately trimmed just for you.

a dazzling smile broke out across your face, prompting dean to almost buckle at the knees. “dance with me, dean.”

your request sent his eyebrow shooting up in mock surprise, but he didn’t mutter a single complaint as he gently took his hand off your face and rested it on the middle of your back. he held you tightly, the only sound being the crunching of snow beneath your feet as dean swayed both of your bodies side to side. your face was close to his, a breath away, and dean couldn’t help but admire all the features you could only see up close.

the mesmerizing allure of your eyes, drawing him in with the kaleidoscope swirls that adorned your irises. the light freckles that dusted your cheeks and swept over the delicate slopes of your nose like stars. he even noticed your fluttering eyelashes, flakes of snow stubbornly getting caught in them above your eyelids and making you look like a goddess in the snow.

dean found the hand plastered on your back moving from it’s place, delicately bringing it to your face before he softly brushed the fallen snow from your lashes. a giggle burst from your lips, and dean’s heart ached in a way only true love could achieve.

the pads of his fingers moved from your eyelids down to the slope of your nose, brushing the point in a sad attempt to rid it of the redness brought by the harsh air. his nimble fingers than moved to your lips, brushing your cupid’s bow with his pointer finger before swiping your bottom lip with his thumb.

he was enthralled by you. the way you looked up at him through your lashes and pouted your lips as his fingers ran over them sending his brain into a frenzy. dean had never felt like God had created someone specifically for him, but he was silently thanking the man upstairs for the creation of his precious angel.

in a silent plea of love, dean brushed his lips across the expanse of your forehead, his mouth moving with words that sent another flurry of snow in your stomach.

“i love you, angel.” he murmured, moving his head to rest on top of yours. “i thank heaven everyday that you came down to me.”

a solemn and peaceful look danced across your face, hands grappling at the fabric around dean’s waist as your hands rested there. you couldn’t think of any possible words that could express your love for dean winchester, so you just settled on resting your head against his chest, lips pressing a kiss above his heart as a way to declare your love for him as well.

for a little while longer, the two of you stood in the snow, swaying back and forth in each other’s embrace like two loving displays in a snow globe.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @cosmicanakin @titsout4jackles @haunteres @ariasong11

[cockslutpadalecki]

Book of Revelations (And A Side of Coffee)

Summary: You love Sam. He loves you. But both of you are too chicken to do anything about your feelings, until matchmaker Dean Winchester (aka Cupid) steps in.

Characters: Sam Winchester x F!Reader, Dean Winchester.

Words: 1.3K.

Warnings: pure unfiltered fluff, some mentions of sex.

A/N: Formerly a Patreon exclusive. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the genera bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

You drop a handful of chopped onions into the pot on the stove, giving the bubbling liquid a quick stir, when you hear Dean’s voice sound behind you.

“Hey,” he starts, “what would you say is your perfect date?”

You rotate on your heel, narrowing your eyes at the older Winchester standing in the doorway. “Are we talking about some Miss Congeniality deal or like... a genuine date? With a person?”

“What Miss Congeniality deal?”

“Y’know, the bit with Cheryl,  April 25th,” you explain with a little laugh, but the quizzical and confused look still on your friend’s face is not lost on you. You let out a little huff. “C’mon De, I thought you’d seen it.”

“I might’ve stumbled across it once or twice,” he defends, “but I don’t commit every second of a film to memory.”

“Oh please. What about the All Saints’ Day series? You can quote all of them off by heart.”

“That’s because they’re classics.”

“Are you saying Miss Congeniality isn’t a classic?”

“It has its perks-”

“Like Sandra Bullock?”

“She’s in that movie?” Dean laughs, giving himself away.

“Jackass,” you shake your head as you allow a small smile to break across your  lips. “Anyway, why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Dean shrugs.

“Have you been reading my Cosmo mag on the can again?”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to find out how to achieve the perfect orgasm,” he reacts with fake offense. 

You scoff mockingly. “Did you come across a map on how to find the G-spot?” 

Dean’s face drops. “I’m serious, just answer the damn question.”

“Ooh, I hit a nerve,” you laugh, but Dean doesn’t share your sentiment. “Well, um, I guess, it’d be nice to go to one of those vintage book shops, y’know, the ones with the little cafes inside.”

Dean nods, and you reluctantly continue.

“Spend a couple of hours talking about our favourite novels over a coffee or two.”

“What about after that?”

“Like, sex you mean?”

“Yeah.”

You screw up your nose. “I wouldn’t put out on the first date.”

“Not even on your perfect date?” he asks as you shake your head. “What if it was with Sam?” Dean cajoles, flashing you a wink.

“Dean!”

It’s no secret that you’ve been harbouring feelings for the younger Winchester for a while now— except maybe to Sam, and Dean takes whatever opportunity he can get to tease you for not making a move. You’re far too shy for that.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t want to come back here and y’know?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“Why’d you always have to be so crass?” you tut with a small roll of your eyes.

“Jeez, you two really are made for each other,” Dean mutters under his breath, but you don’t hear him, your attention already back on the sweet smelling bolognese cooking away in the saucepan.

-

“Meet me at Bradbury Books, 8pm.”

That’s all the instruction you get from Dean a week later. You reply asking if it’s related to a case you’ve not been made privy to yet, but he fails to respond, leaving you in a curious state for the rest of the day. What could Dean possibly want with you at a bookstore, of all places?

You trundle inside the quaint little shop at 7:56, eyes darting back and forth through the aisles, trying to see if he’s hidden away between them, to no avail. Eventually you give up, walking down to the cluster of tables tucked neatly away at the back of the store. A few delicate red and pink decorations adorn the wall furthest from you, but you think nothing of it. But your attention is finally drawn to the handful of balloons with the words, “Happy Valentines Day,” emblazoned across them in swirly white writing that softly sway to the steady hum of the A/C.

Of course. Today is February 14th. 

Great. Always a joy being single at this time of year.

The cafe section is practically empty except for the cashier leant over the counter— head buried in an extremely well-read paperback version of The Shining. Then there’s a couple by the window staring lovingly at each other over two steaming mugs of coffee and… Sam.

Wait, Sam?

There’s a closed copy of The Marvelous Land of Oz on the table next to him, while his hands are curled around a cup of what you assume must be herbal tea from the green liquid, almost murky against the stark contrast of the white ceramic. You’re sidetracked momentarily, thoughts drifting to fantasies of those large hands on you, pawing at your ample flesh. They’re so big that they easily overlap where they meet around the sides of the dainty cup, the fingers from his left hand entwined within the fingers of his right.

He doesn’t notice you until you’re almost at the table, eyes widening when he finally looks up, confusion etched on his features.

Your name oozes from his lips as he questions softly, “What are you doing here?”

“Dean asked me to meet him,” you explain, sliding into the seat opposite. You suddenly feel incredibly underdressed— your ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt are perfect to meet up with Dean to discuss case details, but if you’d known Sam would be here too, you would’ve made more of an effort.

“That’s weird, Dean asked me to meet him too.” Sam leans back in his chair, thumbing inside his pocket for something before pulling his cell free. “Lemme give him a call.”

“Maybe he’s just late?” you offer as Sam puts the device to his ear, waiting for his brother to pick up.

“Oh, hey, where are you?” Sam asks Dean, placing the phone onto the table as he presses the speaker icon, giving you a chance to listen in on the conversation too.

“Just at a bar over in Burr Oak,” Dean tells them. “It’s 2-4-1 cocktails night and there’s a bachelorette party that’s just walked in. One of the bridesmaids is in clear need of my assistance,” he adds with a knowing laugh.

“But you asked us to meet you here at 8,” Sam replies tersely.

The line is silent for a moment before you hear Dean chuckle. “Oh yeah, about that,” he elaborates. “Figured you two should spend Valentine’s together considering you’re both head over heels in love with each other.”

You almost choke on your own tongue at Dean’s words, feeling Sam’s eyes trained on you as your entire body flushes hot at the admission.

Dean has to be joking, right? Sam? In love with you?

“Dude, what are you-” Sam starts at the same time as you try to interject. “No Dean, don’t be silly-”

“Hey!” Dean shouts down the line. “Cut it out, both of you. I’ve seen the longing looks you give each other, and all that awkward small talk. God, it’s exhausting. Just admit your feelings and fuck all that sexual tension out like adults, okay?”

“Dean,” Sam protests through gritted teeth, quickly flashing an apologetic smile toward the couple by the window who catch Dean’s crude and less than subtle attempts to bring you together.

“Look, enjoy a cup of coffee and talk about old books, or whatever it is you two do, and then the Bunker is all yours,” Dean continues. “Even though you both said no sex on the first date, I really think ya would make an exception for the other. Just don’t do it in the kitchen, y’hear? That’s just unsanitary.”

The line suddenly goes dead. Both of you sit embarrassed in silence momentarily, not wanting to look at each other until he clears his throat and you glance up through thick eyelashes. 

Sam smiles, dimples in full effect. “So, I guess he asked about your perfect date too then, huh?” 

***

SPN: @akshi8278​ @cluz1babe​ @deanwanddamons​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @flamencodiva​ @fanfictionandfluff​ @hobby27​ @hoboal87​ @jensenswinchester​ @jc-winchester​ @katelyn--renee​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @peachyafshawn​ @ravenclawfitzgerald​ @spnbaby-67​ @sammykb1994​ @sucker-for-dean​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @waywardbaby​ @winchest09​

4EVS: @amirra88​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @cheesyclaire​ @chibijusstuff​ @callsignrambam​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @daughterofthenight117​ @doozywoozy​ @foxyjwls007​ @geekofmanyforms​ @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets​ @ilovefanfic86​ @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @labella420​ @mogaruke​ @maliburenee​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nik2writes​ @obsessivelycapricious​ @patrick-hockslutter​ @princessmisery666​ @phildunphyisadilf​ @sage-writing​ @sea040561​ @sweeterthanthis​ @slutformarvelmen​ @smokeandnailz​ @stoneyggirl​ @stoneyggirl2​ @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91​ @thegirlnextdoorssister​ @unfortunate-brat​ @wayward-dreamer​ @warriorqueen1991​ @xoxabs88xox​

[burntsecrets]

Masterlist of Fics

This is a master list of all the fanfictions I've written.

a = angst  😭       d = dark 😈

f = fluff 🥰            h = humor 😆

s = smut 🔥

SUPERNATURAL

DEAN X READER

The Getaway - One-shot | Dean wants more than friends. You agree. Things don’t go according to plan. 😭

Mother's Intuition - Drabble | Mary is happy to see that she was right after she heard one of her sons calling you by a sweet nickname on the phone because she was convinced that something was going on between you two. 🥰

SAM X READER

Cozy Vibes and Apple Pie 🥧 – One-Shot | Sam and you celebrate your anniversary by spending the day doing all the fall activities you can. 🥰

DEAN x READER x SAM

Dodging Cupid's Arrows – One-Shot | An encounter with Cupid forces you to face your feelings for the Winchester Brothers.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

DAMON X READER

Mistletoe - Drabble | You and Damon decorate for the holidays. 🥰

If Being Hot Was a Crime - Drabble | Damon being his usual sassy self. 😆

DAMON X ELENA

Heart of Stone Masterlist – Series | Damon has been alive since 1864–as a vampire. While strolling through Mystic Falls, he spots the love of his life and the reason why he’s a monster–Katherine Pierce. Only now she’s human and calling herself by the name Elena Gilbert. Damon doesn’t care. He’ll get his revenge on Katherine. Whether she remembers him or not. 😈

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

ZUKO X KATARA

I guess that love wasn't enough | AU based on “Just A Dream” version here. 😭

Delicate – One-Shot | First Kiss AU. Set in 2018. Listen to “Delicate” by Taylor Swift

ZUTARA WEEK 2024

Start of Something New – One-Shot | Day 1: Crest Zutara Week 2024

A Fire in the Dusk – One-Shot | Day 2: Dusk Zutara Week 2024

Echoes of Winged Rebellion– One-Shot | Day 3: Echoes Zutara Week 2024

Sacred Ground – One-Shot | Day 4: Reverence Zutara Week 2024

A Song for Her – One-Shot | Day 5: Melody Zutara Week 2024

Flames of the Solstice – One-Shot | Day 6: Festive Zutara Week 2024

Market Mischief – One-Shot | Day 7: Sweet Zutara Week 2024

STRANGER THINGS

EDDIE MUNSON X READER

What It's Like to Spend a Rainy Day with Eddie Munson - Drabble | An Imagine what it's to like to spend a rainy day with your paramour Eddie Munson. 🥰

The Slushie Incident - One-Shot | You and Eddie swear you were going to tell everyone you’re dating. The timing just hasn’t been right. They found out anyway, in the most embarrassing way. 😆🥰

Crush – One-Shot | You end up at Eddie’s, and you reveal your crush to him while he plays doctor.

Guilty As Sin – One-Shot | As the new girl in town, you’ve been warned to stay away from Eddie Munson, the school freak, but the fantasy of being with him consumes your thoughts until you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.

Steve Doesn't Know – One-Shot | A secret affair between the reader and Eddie Munson begins to unravel when Steve Harrington, unaware of their relationship, confesses his feelings. 😆

Special Brownies – One-Shot | You and Eddie make brownies in his trailer. His are ✨special✨, though.

Kickstart My Heart – One-Shot | Eddie loves taking you to rock concerts, sharing his passion for music, and showing you off as his cool partner.

SHIPS IN THE NIGHT MINI SERIES

I Never Told You – One-Shot | Pt. 1 Modern-day story. Eddie Munson sparks a friendship with someone he met through a penpal website. After Chrissy’s death and the upside down, he isn’t looking for anything more and makes that abundantly clear. 😭

Is It Over Now – One-Shot | Pt. 2 Modern-day story. Eddie and the Reader meet in person for the first time. After a whirlwind weekend, the Reader is left with more questions than answers. 😭

BILLY HARGROVE X READER

bad idea right? – One-shot | Modern AU (same things happened, just modern-day) | Your situationship with Billy might be over, but you can’t stop from tripping and falling into his bed.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Sharp Edges and Quick Quips – Drabble | You, Sam, and Bucky share tense, playful banter before a mission. 😆

BUCKY x READER

Pinned – OneShot | During an intense training session, you seize your chance to catch Bucky Barnes off guard.

GALADRIEL x HALBRAND x SAURON

favorite crime – One-Shot | Galadriel grapples with accepting Halbrand's true identity as Sauron and the fact that everything between them was a lie. Or was it? 

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Seeking Comfort in Solitude

Summary - Part 29 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist 

Meanwhile in an undisclosed location…

“Do what you want with me, but you leave her out of it!” Dean spits out while fighting against the ropes around his wrists. 

“No, you see, it’s not in her anymore … but it will be. We just need to make sure you know the stakes here.”

“To hell with the stakes! You just stay away from her!” The demon brings his knife up to Dean’s cheek and applies pressure leaving a trail of blood. “Just kill me already!”

“No, we need you alive. We need you to take a message and a gift back to your precious girl. We just need her to know that if she doesn’t hand over the package once it arrives then she can kiss her lover boy goodbye.”

“If you’re gonna kill me anyway, just do it. She’ll never give you what you want.”

A new, deep voice echoes through the room, followed by heavy footsteps approaching, “She will, she’s getting very close to giving in. She’s so desperate to find you she’s willing to offer almost anything. A few more days of this torture and she’ll be ready to give us anything we want just to see you again.”

“Great, more of you asshats…”

A short man comes out of the shadows dressed in a pressed black suit. “I’m hardly grouped with these imbeciles. I’m the King of Hell and you should address me as such.”

“You’re a little short for the King of Hell, don’t ya think? But if you’re the man in charge at least tell me what you want from her?”

“Not much … it’s an insignificant little thing really. And it’s not even so much from her, but you’re incapable of repopulating on your own.”

Dean takes in his words for a second before it clicks, he smirks. “Sorry pal, didn’t the demons give you the memo? She lost the baby. And now we’ve agreed on celibacy.”

“The great Dean Winchester celibate? Well, we’ll just see how long that lasts.” The man paces around the room stroking his chin with one hand. “She’s close to breaking, keep him here another day. Don’t let him out of your sight!” He clicks his fingers and disappears. 

Dean pulls at the ropes harder, leaving rope burns on his wrists. Then a bright light fills the room along with a chorus of screams. And then another set of footsteps approaches, Dean steels himself for the hit but it never comes. Instead, he feels the rope loosen from his wrists prompting him to bring them around to his front and rub the burns. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Took you long enough, Cas. How’s Y/N? Is she safe?”

“Yes, she’s safe. She’s with Sam.”

“Good. You have to take me as far away from her as you can.”

“But you love her? You’re soul mates.”

“Yeah, and no doubt set up by cupids the same way my mom and dad were. This bloodline ends with me. I won’t bring a cursed child into the world. And I sure as hell won’t let demons get their hands on it. But I lose all control around her, so you have to keep me away from her. Lock me up, kill me, whatever you have to do, just keep her safe.”

“Dean…”

“Cas, please, I’m begging you.”

“Fine.” Cas presses two fingers to Dean’s forehead to heal him, and he blacks out. 

When Dean reopens his eyes he blinks a few times trying to assess his surroundings. His eyes land on his guns adorning the walls, then the picture on his bedside table of you and him kissing. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head as he pulls himself into a sitting position. 

“Cas!” He calls out, his voice hoarse. 

Seconds later Cas pushes his door open and comes in carrying a Biggerson’s paperbag and beer bottle. “Here. Eat. Drink,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“This isn’t far from her, she’s gonna come back. This better just be a pit stop. You’re getting me the hell out of here!”

“You’re a match literally made in heaven, why would you want to leave her? I thought you loved her?”

“I do, Cas. I love her more than anything. And that’s exactly why I have to leave her. She’s not safe with me. The demons want her, not for her blood but for mine. She wants a family. A little child to raise as her own. But I can’t give her that. And she deserves it. She deserves the world.”

“As far as I can tell, you’re perfectly fertile, Dean. Even despite your many deaths.”

“That’s not what I mean. If I have a child the demons will stop at nothing to get it. So, this bloodline has to end.”

“You could get a sperm donor.”

“Cas. Not helping”

“It’s a perfectly viable option. Millions of humans do it everyday.”

“Not me. I won’t raise a child in this life. I was disillusioned before when she was pregnant. I wasn’t being practical. We cannot have a child. And she deserves to get out of this life, and I know she won’t as long as she’s with me. The monsters won’t let us. So, I leave and she gets to move on with someone else who can keep her safe and give her the family she deserves.”

“But, you’re her soulmate …”

“I don’t give a crap about soulmates, Cas! I care about Y/N and her safety, that is all. So, you either zap me somewhere far away right now or at least get me to my car so I can leave myself.”

“Your car’s in the garage … You know this will break her heart.”

“At least she’ll be alive and safe.”

“Very well.” Cas dumps the food and drink on the end of Dean’s bed and disappears. 

Ignoring the food and drink, Dean gets up and takes a seat at his desk pulling out a notebook and pen. He starts writing, but only gets as far as ‘Dear Y/N, My love,’ before he tears up and pegs the notepad across the room. Getting up again he leaves his room in search of a stronger beverage than the beer Cas offered. He pours himself a fifth of whisky and then decides to just drink out of the bottle. After taking a few swigs he takes the bottle and makes his way back into his room. He picks up the notepad off the floor, but something distracts him. He notices an unfamiliar small, pink box under the bed. 

He dumps the notepad on the bed and drags out the box and opens it. Inside he finds the positive pregnancy test, the piece of paper with the positive results and a tiny jumpsuit that he doesn’t recognise. He pulls out the jumpsuit and stares at it as more tears drip down his cheeks. After a few minutes he shoves it back in the box, closes it back up and pushes it back under the bed. 

He stands up again and brings the notepad back over to his desk and sits in front of it. He takes another drink of whisky and brings the pen back to the paper but his mind refuses to cooperate. He finds himself reaching for one of his spare phones instead and staring at her number. His tears fall on the paper causing it to wrinkle and smudge, so he rips off the page, scrunches it up and tosses it in the direction of the rubbish bin in the corner of the room. He roughly wipes his tears away, takes another mouthful of whiskey and picks back up the pen and begins to write. 

“Dear Y/N, My Love,

I never tell you enough but you mean the world to me. You make me feel happier and safer than I’ve ever felt in my life and I want nothing more than for you to feel that too. I know you’ll never be safe as long as I’m by your side. With me you’ll continue to hunt monsters and be hunted by monsters, you’ll never get to have the happy family and children you want. That’s not my life; it never will be. My bloodline is cursed and as such it must end with me. But that doesn’t mean you should give up on your dream. You deserve to have all of your good dreams come true, instead of your nightmares. 

I don’t want you to worry about me or search for me. I’ve gone somewhere safe, I promise. Now please use this opportunity to do the same. Get out of this life, get a normal 9-5 job, meet a normal man that makes you happy, protects you, and provides for you, and live the life you really want and deserve. You’ll be the perfect wife and mother one day. You’ve been the perfect fiancé. I’ll be forever jealous of the next man you give your heart to, but more than that I’ll be happy knowing that you’re safe. 

Dean”

Once he finishes signing his name he takes another mouthful of whisky and gets up to start packing up the only room he’s ever called his own. He starts with his drawers and wardrobe. As he pulls his clothes from their hangers and crushes them into a duffel bag he can’t help but hesitate when it comes to his flannels. He knows how much you like them so he decides to leave a few hanging there with your clothes. Then he moves on to his toothbrush and other hygiene essentials and weapons. He leaves his record player and records behind for you as he knows how much you like listening to them and how they calm you down after a rough day. The last thing he takes before disappearing onto the open road in his beloved Impala is the picture of the two of you from his nightstand. He tries to listen to music but all he can hear is your sweet voice singing along so he shuts it off and drives in silence. No destination in mind, he just knows he has to go somewhere where you won’t look for him and find him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423

[ostaramoon]

it's just a stupid holiday ˋ°•*⁀➷ dean winchester

pairing, dean x cupid!reader abt, dean takes his cupid to a valentine's gala, where a rogue angel has been preying on adulterers. you're just excited to be part of the chaos, and dean is trying desperately to keep his focus on the mission and not on his bubbly lovebird wrapped in a little red dress. what could possibly go wrong with this situation?  cw, grumpyxsunshine go on a fake date     dean practicing restraint and failing bc this stupid cupid is just so sweet    fluff    mentions of violence but no gruesome details, mdni, 18+  wc, 3.9k masterlist! for more deanxcupid reads

“i still don’t get why it has to be me doing this crap,” dean groans, shifting uncomfortably in his usual seat behind the impala’s wheel. his fingers drum against it as he scowls out the windshield.

sam, sitting to his right, doesn’t bother looking up from the stack of papers he’s reviewing. “because you’re better at the whole…” he gestures vaguely, searching for the right words, “pretending-to-be-charming-with-women thing.”

dean snorts, tossing his brother a sideways glare. “gee, thanks, sammy. real boost to the ‘ol self-esteem.” he rolls his eyes and adjusts the rearview mirror—only to catch a glimpse of you in the backseat.

that stupid dress. that strappy, red, distracting dress. you’re busy fiddling with the silky hem, completely oblivious to the way it hugs you in all the right places.

dean clears his throat sharply. fidgeting with his suit tie, he forces his eyes back to the road. “hey, cupid,” he growls, trying to sound annoyed instead of flustered. “remember, this is a job. we’re not going to this thing to drink champagne and play house. we’re hunting. focus.”

you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of their seat. a playful grin spreads across your lips as you reach out to pinch his cheek. “oh, dean, don’t you worry,” you assure, ignoring his quick swat at your hand. “i’ll be the best hunting partner ever. all business. no play.”

you deepen your voice, mimicking his usual gruff tone. “just like you.”

dean groans louder this time, and sam smirks faintly without looking up.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the plan for tonight? attend some high society valentine’s night gala as dean’s date, while sam kept watch of the perimeter. honestly all you really heard was sam and dean entrusting you to go undercover on a hunt with them—and you smiled so hard your cheeks ached (to which the brothers again started bickering about whether or not including you was a good idea). then they explained the holiday, humans practically worshipping cupids for a day, the excitement thrummed through you so hard you damn near passed out right there in the middle of the war room. 

sam and dean made it sound so straightforward, but as you walked into the venue—your arm looped through a stiff and uncomfortable dean’s—it became glaringly obvious this event would be anything but simple.  

red and pink heart shaped balloons spilled out from the entrance, framing a sleek red carpet scattered with rose petals that guided you into the heart of the party. the ballroom was enormous, yet nearly every inch of the room was drenched in lavish decor—flowers, jewels, endless shades of red and pink. a sizable crowd mingled beneath the dazzling display, their chatter blending harmoniously with the soft, elegant symphony flowing from the orchestra on stage. 

a small gasp left your painted lips as you took everything in, “this is incredible.”

dean, watching you carefully as your eyes darted from one dazzling detail to the next, murmured, “yeah, sure is.” his voice was barely audible in that soft tone. 

you peeled your gaze away from the galore, meeting his with that sugary sweet smile that makes his knees grow weak. “this is really all for cupids and love?” 

his brows cock as he considers your words, trying for once to not immediately destroy the innocence beaming from your eyes with his charmingly pessimistic perspective on, well, everything. “yeah,” he clears his throat, his arm slipped from yours, absentmindedly raising his hand to push the stray hairs that had fallen in your face, he hated when anything—anything at all—hid that view. “all of this exists because of what you lovebirds do to us.” 

you’ve gotten sharper in the weeks you’ve spent with the winchesters. picking up on what they call sarcasm and double meanings isn’t the easiest, but you’ve become so observant of dean you can almost feel it when he says one thing, and inside guards his true emotions. something in the way his face tightens, how deep of a breath he takes to release the stress, you’re not even sure if he’s aware of these tells but you know better than to clue him in on your cheat codes for decoding this ever-complicated man. 

dean sighs, slipping his hands into his dress pants as his eyes scanned the crowd, “alright little angel, let’s—”

you’re about ten feet away before he can finish his sentence, bee-lining to a side table overflowing with chocolate boxes, teddy bears, bouquets, flower-shaped ornaments, and so many little cherubs adorning nearly every item. 

a woman dressed in crisp black and white approached you with a polite smile, balancing a platter of dainty, bite-sized cakes. “please, help yourself to anything you’d like. mr. and mrs. nightingale donated all of these lovely trinkets for our guests.” 

“uh, we’re good on toys, thanks.” a gruff voice booms over your shoulder. dean snakes one arm around your waist as he reaches out with his free hand, swiping two mini cakes off the platter. the woman shot him a withering glare before turning away. 

“here.” he muttered, plopping one of the treats into your open palm, devouring the other in one bite. 

“but, dean,” you whine, dropping the cake onto the table and reaching for a plush brown bear sitting front and center. 

dean’s grip around your waist tightened, pulling you snug against his chest. the sudden shift made you wobble on the cherry-red heels you’d only recently learned to walk in.

“nuh uh.” he hums, low and firm. “business, lovebird. focus.” 

your pouted lips and narrowed eyes meet his steady squint—a silent warning for you to cut it out. 

“fine.” you whimper, giving the bear one last wistful glance before turning reluctantly back to the crowd. “what are we doing again?” 

“trying to figure out who the next victim is, while sam watches for the angel.” leaning down so only you could hear. his breath on your ear sends little sockwaves down your spine, his tone low to avoid drawing attention from the nearby guests. “think your cupid crap can sniff out any cheaters in the crowd?” 

your brows knit as you try to focus your energy on observing with your angel vision. you can’t necessarily see or smell infidelity, but there are glittering strings that exist between connected humans and only a cupid is capable of detecting them. 

slowly, the ballroom came alive before your eyes, dozens of ribbons in gold, red, white, and silver weaving through the spaces between bodies. each color represents a distinct bond woven in fate. but the sheer number of people packed so tightly together made it difficult to pinpoint who belonged to what thread. the tangled web shifted and shimmered, overwhelming your senses as you struggled to unravel it. 

“i can’t smell infidelity,” you state plainly, your tone clipped as you strain to focus on the red strings in particular. a throbbing begins in your head, growing sharper with each passing second. “There’s red, but—”

the throbbing quickly escalates into a pounding ache, forcing you to release the energy of the room. your vision shifts back to that of a mortal’s as your hands instinctively clutch dean’s arm for support.

he reacts instantly, turning you to face him as his strong hands steady your swaying form at the waist. “hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice low but firm, concern flashing in those jade-green eyes as they search your face for an answer.

“i can’t, dean, i’m not really strong enough to read this many people,” your eyes find the floor, feeling too embarrassed to meet his gaze, “the energy, it just kinda pushes me out.” 

when cas left you with the brothers, he failed to mention that you were a bit of a heaven reject. a cupid with faulty powers—and the whole issue with you not always wanting to follow heavenly orders. cas saw something in you, at least, and you hoped that the winchesters would, too. 

“c’mere.” dean huffs, locking your fingers in his as he guides you down another hall. you step into a smaller room where a few people are scattered about on lavish couches and chairs. standing slightly behind you he places a reassuring hand on the small of your back he leans over your shoulder, “try it in here.”

with a nod you focus again, dean’s thumb rubs against your back soothingly, his other hand tightly wrapped over the top of yours as he watches you with care. again the room is dancing with ribbons, but the power isn’t nearly as overwhelming. “there’s a lot of gold in here.” you speak without looking away from the crowd, a smile finding your lips as you notice the elderly couples bound in glittering gold. 

“what’s that mean?” 

“purity turned everlasting.” you release his hand to face him, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you describe the phenomenon that makes you most excited to be a cupid, “they were fated with white strings, or bonds, to have something sweet between them, a simple fling or a good marriage. but it could have easily turned red and fragile from something like cheating, and it didn’t. these souls will probably find themselves in the same heaven, now, because of their commitment to the bond.”  

dean grins down at you, catching the way your excitement practically vibrates through your body. truthfully, it all sounded like a load of crap to him. but then there’s you—with that unbound energy, one he’s certain no one else—angel or human—could ever replicate. the way your infatuation with love seems so genuine, so pure, it softens parts of him that have been hardened for years, wound tightly in cynicism for the very thing you embody.

before he can stop himself, his mind drifts. he’s already considering leaving sam to handle the case on his own, just for one night, so he can watch you explore this world with that wide-eyed wonder. to see you smile up at him like that a little longer.

and maybe—just maybe—to catch a few more glimpses of you prancing around in that little dress, oblivious to the way it rides up your thighs when you move, or how your bouncing excitement causes… other things to bounce right along with you.

dean clenches his jaw, mentally reprimanding himself as he forces his gaze away from you. focus, winchester. focus.

“so, you’re saying we need to find red bonds or whatever,” he mutters, working to keep his voice steady. “but you can’t see ’em with all those people in there.”

you nod, watching him closely as he weighs his options.

“uh-huh,” he breathes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “guess that means we’ll have to chat up some of the drunk old birds with loose lips.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

dean’s plan worked. after about an hour of mingling with the party guests, the two of you find yourselves on the edge of the crowd, watching a middle-aged married couple whom numerous women had whispered about. rumors swirled of the wife and her tennis coach, the husband and his secretary—long trips taken without the other, late nights at the office. all the signs of mutual betrayal.

the exact kind of relationship the rogue angel has been targeting. 

“classic,” dean mutters, eyes narrowing as he observes the couple, now mingling on opposite ends of the room. his stance is tall and stiff, locked in hunter mode.

you tilt your head, less focused on the case and more on the glittering display of treats and trinkets catching your eye a few tables away. a quick glance confirms dean is too busy scowling at the couple to notice you quietly slip off.

the desserts are as extravagant as the rest of the party, each treat adorned with ribbons and delicate designs. A small card catches your attention: cordial cherries. intrigued, you pop one into your mouth. the sugary red juice takes you by surprise, spilling down your chin and all over your fingertips. 

the flavor is sweet against your tongue, the chewy red center tart in contrast. you reach for another, taking it whole, and another for good measure, needing more of that sugary taste. you hadn’t heard dean approach, closing in on you with a confused scowl etched into his brows.

“love,” dean’s gruff voice startles you, his hand suddenly grasping your sticky chin to turn your face towards his, “you’re making a mess.”

embarrassed, you freeze, cheeks flushed as you glance up at him with cherry-stained lips. dean’s eyes darken slightly, flicking down to your mouth as he brushes his thumb along your sticky chin. without a second thought, he sucks the sugary residue off his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours. 

a strange, warm sensation blooms in your chest—and lower—making your eyes widen in surprise. that was a new feeling, and something about dean’s expression told you now probably wasn’t the time to ask him about it. 

dean looks over his shoulder toward the couple again, his expression unreadable. looking back to you, he sighs. “bathroom,” he nods to the corner, “now.” he orders, his voice a little rougher than usual. 

You pout but follow him obediently, weaving through the crowd until you slip into the lavishly decorated restroom. Dean locks the door behind you, the click of the latch oddly loud in the quiet space. In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your reflection—smudged lipstick, syrupy streaks trailing down your chin, and little splotches on the swell of your breasts.

without a word dean is behind you, in the reflection his face is blank, barely hiding his agitation. he spins you to face him, his pupils eating away at the green of his eyes. his hands find your hips and in one motion you’re seated on top of the porcelain space between the sinks. 

“‘m sorry, dean.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in lap, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he grunts a ‘mhm’ in response, making that warmth in your center morph into a ball of anxiety. the feeling you usually get after doing something terribly wrong, and dean gets that familiar scowl and grumpy tone. 

like he is now, except he usually isn’t this quiet. 

he comes back to you with a handful of wet paper towels. his eyes are focused on your lips as he wipes away the lipstick and sticky sugar. 

“stop pouting like that.” he grumbles, folding the paper before dragging it down your chin. his hand stops, eyes flicking between your chest and eyes for a moment before he’s handing the paper over to you, “you can get the rest.” 

as you dab at the mess on your chest, the silence stretches between you, weighted by unspoken thoughts. your mind drifts back to the couple in the ballroom, their entwined red strings sullied by betrayal.

“why do they do that?” you ask softly, breaking the quiet, “that couple, why do they do that to each other?” 

dean shrugs, standing between your legs with his arms crossed. “just what people do, lovebird. it’s not something i can really explain. everyone makes choices for their own reasons, hell, they probably don’t even know why they do that to each other.” 

you nod, mulling over his words. “i wouldn’t make those choices,” you say after a moment. “if I could be human, i wouldn’t waste it. What they have… it’s a gift.”

dean chuckles dryly, “and somehow i believe you, little angel. but being human isn’t all kittens and rainbows, mortality sucks. our emotions suck. and making the right choices, it—it’s hard.” 

“but you get to feel,” you say, your voice softening. “you get to fall in love. those emotions are what make humans so… special. sometimes i wish i could feel that.” you pause, suddenly shy. “maybe that’s why I’m not a very good cupid. i get too distracted by all these questions.”

Dean’s gaze softens, his arms uncrossing, planting his strong hands on either side of you, leaning closer. “You’re not a bad cupid,” he says gruffly, fighting with himself to sound more gentle than usual. “you care, a whole lot. if it were up to me, i’d say that’s not a bad thing.”

before you can respond, the ring of dean’s phone echos in the room, shattering the tension. he pulls away to retrieve it out of his pocket, scowling at the screen. “sam says the angel’s outside. we need to move.”

his hand finds yours, instinctively, tugging you out of the room and through the crowd. dean is locked into hunter mode again, his entire body on high alert as he’s practically dragging you across the ballroom.  

reaching the furthest wall, large windows give view to an expansive flower garden shimmering under the moonlight. a rather beautiful sight, where each bush is perfectly trimmed to line the weaving cobblestone paths. dean pauses at the door, looking back at you with a look that makes you wonder if he’s about to be sick.

before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s dropping your clasped hands, “just—stay in here. keep watch of the people while sam and i handle this.” 

“what?” you begin, flustered. sam and dean had spent days prepping you for whatever might happen. you learned how to actually use your own angel blade, the one you only carried around because it was an order but had never intended on using. dean taught you how to shoot his guns, and despite your distaste for their sharp sounds and harsh rebound—you sucked it up because the boys were trusting you. “no! i’m in this, too, remember? i can help—”

“no.” his voice is stern, his mind already made. he was giving you that look again, that made you feel like a helpless baby. it was comforting when it got him to ease up on you for little mistakes, but right now it was annoying. irritating, because you finally felt like you’d get to prove your worth with this hunt. 

“dean—” you start, but the door swings shut behind him before you can finish. with an exasperated groan, you rush to a near by window, heart pounding as you watch him dart down the shadowed path. 

the moment he’s out of sight, a sick twist of nerves coils in your stomach. seconds stretch into centuries, a burning lump rising in your throat as your imagination runs wild. then, movement catches your eye in the darkness.

dean’s body flies through the air, crashing hard into the ground like a ragdoll. 

your breath stutters. you’ve never witnessed a hunt before—not firsthand—but you’ve seen the aftermath. bruises, cuts, even broken bones you’d healed despite dean’s gruff protests against your divine touch helping him.

he struggles back to his feet, but he’s too slow. the angel—a tall, imposing figure in a crisp suit—stalks towards him with eerie precision, circling like a predator toying with its prey. from your vantage point, the angel’s back is turned to you. that’s all the opening you need.

without thinking, you dart for the door. the cool night air sends goosebumps rippling over your skin, the chill mixing with the nervous heat burning inside you. you catch sam out of the corner of your eye, lying on the ground further up the path and groggily coming back to consciousness as he sits up. 

stopping short, you kick off one of your cherry-red heels, gripping it tightly in your hand. it may not be a bow, but you’re still an archer—and this will have to do. with a flick of your wrist, you send the stiletto flying through the air.

the heel collides sharply with the back of the angel’s head. he stumbles slightly before spinning around, fury etched into his face as his silver blade flashes in the moonlight.

fear floods your system, making your knees weak. you’re not sure if it’s bravery or recklessness keeping you standing as he charges towards you. but your distraction is enough.

dean is on his feet again, blade in hand. with one swift motion, he drives it deep into the angel’s neck. the being’s body flickers with light before crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

for a moment, everything is still. to stand frozen, gawking at the scene before you as dean slowly staggers back, panting heavily. when his eyes find yours, they’re sharp with anger. with a huff he’s crossing the grass towards you, that grumpy scowl having taken over his pretty features. 

“dean, i—i’m sorry, but—”

he closes the distance in two long strides, hands cupping either side of your face. the firmness in his touch makes your breath catch in your throat. before you can say anything more, he gently tugs, pressing two rough kisses to your forehead.

you blink up at him, your thoughts a buzzing, tangled mess. 

“save it, lovebird. i know.” he sighs, dropping his hands. his voice is gruff but softer than you expect, his relief shining through the cracks of his frustration. “just never do that again.” 

sam slowly approaches, sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek. his expression wavers between amused and impressed. “nice shot, cupid. i told dean you’d come through.”

“shut it, sammy.” dean snaps back, his scowl deepening as he glances over his shoulder at the angel’s body. “let’s get rid of the angel’s body and get the hell out of here.” 

you bite back a sheepish grin, slipping your remaining shoe off to follow behind the brothers. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

back at the bunker…

you had tried, several times, to get out of the stupid red dress. the thin straps came loose from your shoulders easily enough. but the damn zipper in the back was just out of your reach, no matter how you twisted or stretched, it remained out of grasp. the nice lady at the dress shop who helped you get into the damn thing, wasn’t around to get you out of it. 

with an annoyed huff, you padded barefoot out of your room and down the hall, the hem of the dress swishing faintly with every step. you stopped in front of dean’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. 

there was a pause, followed by a muffled shuffling sound. the door swung open, dean took up most of the door frame clad in an old band shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from sleep and his expression distinctly unimpressed.

“what?” he grumbles, voice rough and gravelly, clearly annoyed at having been woken up. 

“i need help,” you whine, turning your back to him and gesturing over your shoulder. “i can’t get to the stupid zipper.”

he let out a long-suffering sigh, but his rough finger tips brush against your skin as he grips the top of your dress in one hand and tugged the zipper down with the other. 

you’re not really used to wearing dresses, and you’re too tired to think about how, y’know, gravity works. 

the silky red material drops to the floor, pooling over your feet. “oh.” you mumbled, looking down at the discarded dress. 

“jesus,” dean muttered, his voice strained. when you looked back at him, his eyes were fixed firmly on the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together as if trying to keep a lid on something. 

a wicked giggle bubbled up before you could stop it. “thanks, dean!” you chirp, abandoning the dress on the floor and darting down the hall in nothing but your pink underwear. 

the sound of his exasperated cursing followed you, echoing against the hall as your laughter trailed behind. 

[stellasfictionalworld]

fic list

supernatural: - Nemesis (oc x dean winchester)

gen v: - cupid (reader x andre anderson)

[jensen-ackles-girl]

It's here, my first Christmas drabble! Wanted to write something that involved the holiday season since it's December wrote this number last night.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this.

Summary: Home for the Holidays Y/N goes home for the holidays unbeknownst to her that she'd run into a familiar face she'd thought she'd never seen again.

Warnings: fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Bobby singer x fem!reader mentioned, sam Winchester x fem!reader mentioned, Castiel x fem!reader mentioned

The crisp winter air carried a sense of anticipation as the town of Lebanon prepared for its annual Christmas festivities. Y/N couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat as she stepped off the bus, her bags in tow. It had been years since she left this small town, but a sudden longing for home brought her back.

Little did Y/N know, fate had other plans in store. As she walked past a bustling café, her eyes met a pair of mesmerizing emerald green orbs that see thought she'd never see again. It had been a long time since she saw those green emerald orbs staring back at her. It was Dean Winchester, a charming, albeit devil-may-care hunter she had once known. Memories of their shared adventures and stolen glances resurfaced, as did the lingering feeling of unspoken emotions.

Dean's heart raced as he saw Y/N stepping off the bus. It had been years since they last saw each other, and the sight of her stirred emotions he thought he had buried deep within. Fate had reunited them just in time for the festive season, and he vowed to make this Christmas one to remember. And he'd hope that she would join him. The longing to rekindle their once deep relationship stirring up inside him as he watched her flag down a taxi and climbed in as it carried her down the long stretch of road.

The taxi came to a stop at her childhood home and Y/N got out and thanked the driver as she paid for her ride she then grabbed her bags and climbed the front steps to her front door and walked in as she shut the door behind her. Once in the comfort of her home she sighed it was just as she left it. She walked through the long stretch of the fourier. Finding her cosy living room as she sat down on her cosy couch.

Getting herself to relax for a minute or two. As y/n got settled into her childhood home, she couldn't shake the feeling that this reunion was no coincidence. Memories of long, snowy evenings spent in the company of Dean flooded her mind, and she found herself lost in thoughts of what could have been. Smiling to herself as she remembered the fond memories of her and the older Winchester dean. Little did she know, Dean felt the same way.

Time flew by as she sat there and thought she soon decided that a stroll through town would do her some good. She grabbed her coat,boggin, and gloves. and put them on as she ventured out into the cold. And begin her walk into town. As she walked it started lightly snowing she stopped for only a second to catch a snowflake with her tongue. Then continued to walk.

The town was transformed into a winter wonderland, draped in twinkling lights and the soft glow of snow- covered trees. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of magic in the air as the festivities began. She stopped at a hot chocolate stand when she got to the Christmas festivities. And got a large cup of hot chocolate as she began her walk through the festivities.

Among the townsfolk, Y/N discovered an old friend, Bobby Singer. The gruff yet lovable hunter had become somewhat of a surrogate father figure to both her and Dean. The two embraced each other as they said their I missed you's as the two catched up with one another. She sensed those emerald green orbs staring at her she looked over at the handsome hunter who they belong to and gave him a warm smile.

Bobby, sensing the connection between the two, decided to play Cupid and meddled in their lives just enough for their paths to cross again. As the days grew shorter and the nights colder, Y/N found herself drawn to Dean like a moth to a flame. Their shared memories and unspoken desires created a palpable tension, a perfect storm brewing between them. Meanwhile, Sam Winchester, Dean's brother, and Castiel, their angelic ally, couldn't help but notice the blossoming romance.

While the townsfolk busied themselves with holiday preparations, Y/N and Dean found solace in each other's arms. With every stolen kiss and whispered confession, their love grew stronger, like the snowfall outside, covering everything in a blanket of purity and serenity. The spirit of Christmas brought surprises beyond Y/N's wildest dreams. As she walked through the town square, she stumbled upon the Christmas tree lighting ceremony. Amongst the cheerful crowd stood her best friend, who happened to be the younger Winchester sam. She quickly ran over to him and gave him a warm hug as he returned the action.

Overwhelmed with joy, Y/N,Dean, and Sam watched the tree lighting with smiling faces and full hearts. This was a christmas that she'd never forget. As Christmas Day arrived, so did the magic that had been building between Y/N and Dean. Traditional festivities enveloped them: caroling, ice skating, and hot cocoa by the fireplace. With every stolen moment beneath the mistletoe, their love grew deeper.

She had decided to stay she had missed her hometown and was lingering to find purposes again which she did in the arms of dean Winchester her long lost love. On what would have been the final day of her visit, something unexpected happened. Mary Winchester, Dean and Sam's long-lost mother, returned from the dead and sought to mend their fractured family. Despite the whirlwind romance and newfound happiness, Y/N realized the importance of family and encouraged Dean to reunite with his mother.

Their love story didn't end there, though. Dean pledged to Y/N that he would never let her go, that they would find a way to bridge the gap between them. With a resounding promise, they embarked on a journey of love, forgiveness, and a future filled with endless possibilities.

[sunshinemunchkin]

Infatuated Insomniacs

pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

summary: one sleepless night, one filled with discomfort, sam is there to ease your worries and provide peace.

warnings: mentions of dean's death, mentions of sam and dean sharing a bed but IT'S NOT WINCEST YALL, sexual jokes, cuddling, kissing

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic back, and my first sam fic :) hope you enjoy, this takes place after s3, in the four months that dean's in hell.

the hotel room was small, the night muggy. the shorts you wore were itchy and rubbed against your legs in all the wrong ways. the blankets were too heavy, but the room was too cold from the air conditioner on blast.

the boy in the bed next to you had his back to you, his body rising and falling steadily. your eyes traveled over the dark room, the shadows on the wall flickering and your mind running away from you as you fingered the gun under your pillow. when your breathing turned heavy at your imagination spiraling, sam turned over to face you. "hey." he voiced into the dark room, drawing you from your thoughts.

you turned to him with a flip of your hair, blankets half on your body, half off exposing your chest and top of your torso. sam offered a gentle smile, "can't sleep?" he questioned, sleep nowhere to be found in his voice. maybe he hadn't been sleeping after all. you shake your head, heart still pumping from the sudden surprise that his voice brought when he broke the silence. sam sat upright in the bed, the blanket falling down his chest and his large hands rubbing his face from sleep before reaching over and turning on the light that resided on the bedside between your beds.

a pale yellow light flooded the room, your eyes squinting in the exposure, a soft groan escaping you as you shield your view from the lamp. sam's bare chest was now visible, his anti possession tattoo a forest green against his tan, toned pectoral muscle. you forced your eyes away, gulping hard and peeling the blankets off of your body, sitting crosslegged on the scratchy and odd smelling sheets.

"what's up?" you fiddle with your fingers, avoiding sam's gaze that bore into the side of your face. with a heavy sigh, your head tilts back against the headboard, hitting it with a soft thunk. you travel your own stare to sam's hazel eyes, always having admired how many colors swam in his irises. his lips were chapped from chewing on them, a nervous habit of his, pink and full. the slope of his nose was perfect, and you wanted nothing more than to trace your finger over it's bridge down to the cupid's bow of his upper lip.

you remember he asked a question in all that admiration. "thinking. 'bout everything." he hummed, twirling a loose thread from the blanket around his long finger. it had been a hard couple of months for the two of you. dean having sold his soul for sam's life, way back when. it's been a downhill road ever since: searching for the demon that holds dean's contract, sam meeting up with ruby time after time, her eventually getting possessed by lilith. and dean's death at end of it all when each event came crashing into one another, putting yours and sam's life at a jarring halt. and so here you both sat, in an all too quiet hotel room, having gotten used to dean's foghorn snores that usually masked the annoying hum of the radiator.

"that's a lot of thinking then." you smile softly at his attempt at a joke. you face sam, his eyes meeting yours as you stared at him. "i guess you can't sleep either?" sam's already shaking his head at your reciprocated question as he shifts his legs under the blankets.

"nah, used to sharing a bed with dean. ya know, letting you have the second bed to yourself." you hum, playing with your bottom lip. folding it between your teeth as he spoke, listening intently and trying to quell the awkwardness that filled the air in the room. dean not there to dissipate it with a quip or a joke. "just bone her! bone him! hey, whatever you're into. just ease the tension, for godsake." you could sometimes hear his voice if you listened hard enough, the thought of his joke making you laugh to yourself.

sam eyed you stunned that you were laughing in the dead on night. "what?" he breathes, your gaze hooking onto his. you purse your lips, an action that always had sam's heart stuttering. " just thinking of dean. a joke he would say." sam smiled softly, but sadly at the mention of his brother. yet, he was still curious.

"what was it?" you eye him, him appearing to be listening. you stumble in your words for a moment.

"it was just- uh. a dirty joke. with all the- the silent moments we've had since he... well with him not around. he would just say something about the so called sexual tension." there was another pregnant pause, you decided to fix it. "'just bone her for godsake!'" you mimicked his brother's voice the best you could, sam laughing at the face you made along with it.

when you realized he was laughing with you and not at you, you joined in. the two of you sat on your beds, heads tossed back and eyes welling with tears, both happy and sad, at the joke. happy that you were finally able to laugh for the first time in weeks. sad that the man who was usually mr. jokester was not there to laugh with you.

the laughter had come to a slow as you lock eyes with sam once more. him wiping his eyes with a short chuckle. "he would've said that. definitely." you smile, glad that sam had a moment of relaxation, a chance to breathe. sam was grateful for it too, since it had seemed like he hadn't been able to do so since his brother went to hell. the silence that took over was no longer awkward, but yearning.

"it's kinda cold in here." you mumble, goosebumps having risen on every inch of your body, your arms rubbing over themselves. sam, instead of rising from the bed to adjust the air like you thought he would, simply moved over in his bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the warm spot next to him. you eyed him in surprise before he smirked. "we're paying for two beds." you joke, trying to channel some of dean's energy to which sam rolled his eyes at.

"i tried to fix the radiator, it's busted. it's this or freeze, and i'm cold too." at that notion, you shrug, picking yourself up from the bed you were on and walking the two feet to sam's bed. your fronts were facing one another as sam flipped the blanket over you, encapsulating your frame with his warmth. his warm breath fanned over your slightly cold nose and when your hand brushed against his chest, he shifted back slightly. "your hands are freezing!" sam exclaimed, his larger ones immediately taking yours in his and rubbing them together. the action was basically helpless, but the feel of his hands on yours ignited a flame in your whole body, down to your toes that solved your issue of chilliness.

there was a pause, a moment that was shared between you. dean once called this 'the breaking point'. it was always spoken of and never experienced, something you thought only existed in movies and the exaggerated stories of his fabulous one night stands. you cursed him silently, but jokingly, for always being right when it came to this. especially when sam's hand cupped your cheek, his toasty hands easing the cold that nipped at your skin.

"y/n." you met his eyes, his face mere inches from yours as the two of you laid on your sides. you didn't hesitate. taking the jump, the leap. the dare that was always given and then traded for a truth. accepting the facts that everyone always said was there. that you were in love with sam winchester and, by the way he was kissing you with fervor, you assumed he felt the same. his eyelashes fluttered against your cheekbones, lips sloppy and rushed. you pull back for air when sam's chasing your lips again. his nose pushes into your cheek, his heavy breathing heard over the radiator.

and though his lips were slightly rough, the connection was bliss. it was like air had been pushed back into your lungs, life back into your heart. for the first time in months, you feel alive. you feel confident and at peace. sam's arm slipped over your waist, bringing you closer to his body, your hands slipping up to tangle themselves in his growing hair. when you tugged gently, sam let out a gentle groan, pulling away from you and leaving a string of saliva in his wake.

the two of you giggle, panting against one another as sam's fingers play with the ends of your hair. "so this... it's mutual?" you roll your eyes, cupping the man's face. "no, sam. i'm kissing you to preserve the warmth." he catches onto your sarcasm, the joke dripping off of you as you pepper kisses on his lips, and more than a few on his cupid's bow.

sam says nothing, simply leaning over you to turn the light off once more, drowning the room in darkness. but it wasn't dark anymore, not totally. in your hearts, the light had been turned on. you turned in sam's embrace, your back to his firm chest. and with his arms around you protectively, his breathing into the crook of your neck as you were pulled flush against him, you both fell into a slumber like no other. free of nightmares, and of worry. you knew, deep down, that there would be no more insomnia, no more sleepless nights where you both were terrified to close your eyes in fear of what horrors your subconscious was withholding. no more tossing and turning or jolts back to reality or cold sweats. because you had found peace in the desperation. and somewhere dean was saying, 'i told you so'.

[winchester-girl67]

One Shots

Dean Winchester 

Designated Driver (Dean x reader) After a quick salt and burn with Charlie, you stop at a local bar for a few drinks. Sam and Dean come to pick you two up and you don't take well to Dean's new nickname for you.

Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice (AU!Dean x reader) The reader meets Dean in a grocery store on her birthday. He convinces her to let him take her out and they meet up for his sister's party on the weekend. On their first anniversary, she tries to spook Dean once and for all and he has a special surprise in store for her.

The Grinch Wears Flannel (Dean x reader) Dean sprouts green fur after the reader calls him a Grinch.

Cross-check to the Heart (Ex-HockeyPlayer!Dean x reader) Dean cares for the reader when she bumps her head on the ice on Christmas Eve. 

Kiss Me At Midnight (Dean Smith x reader) The reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her boss, Dean Smith, on New Year’s Eve.

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo (Dean x Wiccan!reader) The reader has an earache and takes matters into her own hands when the boys leave her behind on a hunt. Things take a wild turn when they return to the bunker and Dean tries to comfort her when the pain becomes too much. - Sequel to Bubble, Bubble, Bath & Trouble

Bubble, Bubble, Bath & Trouble (Dean x Wiccan!reader) The reader tries to get Dean to relax with a magical bubble bath mixture, but things don't go to plan when a bath toy comes to life. - Prequel to Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Christmas On Parole (Ex-Con!Dean x reader) Just when the reader thought she would never see Dean Winchester again, he comes strolling back into town stirring up all sorts of old feelings. But will that be enough to get him a second chance with her or will she hang onto the anger she’s had for the past ten years.

Stupid Cupid (Dean x reader) Dean's upset when a Cupid marks him with an arrow but not his soulmate, or so he thinks. As he struggles to come to terms, he calls her everything other than her actual name, though maybe that's just a part of getting struck by true love.

Spin Cycle (Dean x reader) Dean and the reader stop at a laundromat in the middle of the night after a hunt gets a little extra messy.

Meet The Parents (Dean x reader) The reader takes Dean home for a traditional Irish dinner on St. Paddy's day, but the food doesn't sit well with him.

The Dinner Guest (AU!Dean x Daughter!reader) Dean gets angry with his daughter, the reader, when she gets home past curfew and misses dinner with her grandfather.

Under The Weather (Dean x reader) Sam takes care of his big brother when Dean comes down with something nasty on their way to see Y/N, a fellow hunter. When she gets wind of the situation with Dean, she arrives just in time to take care of both boys.

Diary Of A Hunter (Dean x Sister!reader) During your down time from hunting, you like to write Teen Wolf fan-fiction, but what happens when your brothers stumble onto your notebook. Meanwhile, Dean gets jealous when he discovers that Sam is teaching you to drive and tries to buy your love back after teasing you relentlessly about what he thinks is your diary.

Sensory Overload (Dean x Autistic!reader) The reader tells Dean that she's on the spectrum after he finds her hiding out in his room after a hunt.

Happy Hour (AU!Dean x reader) The reader returns home after a night at the club realizing she's taken something that she shouldn't have. Her neighbour, Dean, notices when she's practically locked out of her house and spends the night with her.

♡ Happy Hour (Part 2) - Happy Ending (Neighbour!Dean x reader) A few weeks into dating Dean and things finally heat up with the first snowfall of the season.

Cravings (Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, Baker!Dean x Pregnant!reader) The reader gets some intense pregnancy cravings when she smells the alpha next door cooking. She grabs a plate and knocks on his front door.

Craving (Part 2) - (Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, Baker!Dean x Pregnant!reader) Post-claim, Dean and the reader enjoy a lazy day at her place when she tells him that she wants to bite him back. 

♡ Love Deliciously (Dean x reader) After an incident on a hunt, the reader tries to boost the boys' morale with a homemade feast and a little Christmas decorating. But Sam leaves for his own romantic endeavours and she catches Dean with himself after months of feeling touch starved for his affection. Something he hasn't given freely lately as his own guilt weighs on him. Nothing a little mistletoe can't fix though.

My Father's Daughter (Dean x Nephilim!reader) Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks. 

♡ Raven Eyes (Dean x Nephalem!reader) Half-Demon and half-angel, the reader struggles to control her outbursts of anger. Until she meets someone who makes her blood boil in a whole other way. She searches for her half-sister, Claire, with the help of the Winchester brothers and finds that, maybe, being human isn't all bad.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Christmas in the Bunker Pt.1: Wanna Build a Snowman?

This fic will fill my Building a Snowman square in @spnchristmasbingo

Warnings: None. Just fluff and a tiny smidge of angst (to make the fluff feel fluffier! 😉)

Summary: It's snowman building time - or is it?

Pairings: (Dean Winchester x Fem!reader), (Sam x Eileen [mentioned]), (OC - MJ - child), (OC - DJ - child [mentioned])

Word Count: 1,549

A/N: So, when I got my SPN Christmas Bingo Card, I had an immediate idea for a little Christmas Series.

If you just want to read each drabble as an individual story, you can for sure do that. But they'll all also be part of a series that takes place over the two weeks leading up to Christmas in the Bunker.

I'm calling them drabbles, but they'll range between 500 and 2500(ish) words, so - drabble/one-shot. I'm gonna try my very best to have them all out by December 25 at the absolute latest.

I hope you enjoy the series and I wanna wish every one of you a very Merry Christmas and the Happiest of Holidays!! 🎄🎅

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!"

Dean sat up suddenly, adrenaline pumping immediately, a lifetime of hunter's instincts making him alert and ready as he turned to his four year old daughter standing beside the bed on tiptoes.

"MJ? Baby, what is it?" he asked, smoothing back the honey brown curls that had fallen over her forehead.

MJ was bouncing now on the balls of her feet, her little pink cotton nightgown swaying along with her.

"It's morning and you said when it was morning, you'd be home and we'd go build a snowman, 'member?"

As reality sank in that MJ was just fine and was simply way over excited about going out into the freezing cold, Dean felt his muscles relax. A small groan left his lips. He could sense Y/N waking up beside him, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position.

"No, baby..." he started, but MJ bounced faster.

"Yes, Daddy. 'Member, we were gonna build snowmen but then you had to go and you promised you'd be back this morning and we'd build lots of snowmen then."

Dean was nodding along with her chattering while he rubbed a hand across his scratchy, tired eyes.

"Okay, first of all, sweetheart, I don't recall agreeing to building an army of snowmen. Secondly," Dean said, placing a finger against MJ's cupid bow mouth as she tried to argue, "secondly, it's not morning, baby."

Dean turned her chin to look at the LED numbers on the clock that sat on the nightstand. "Do you know what those numbers mean?"

MJ nodded. "Yep, that's the o'clock."

Dean smiled. "Exactly. And the o'clock says that it's only four in the morning."

MJ's big, round, green eyes got even bigger and Dean realized his mistake.

"I mean...not morning...it's not -"

But MJ was already rocketing around the room, ecstatic. "Yes! Yes! It's morning! Daddy said!" And she bounded out of their bedroom and down the bunker hallway to her bedroom next door.

"No, MJ! No...I didn't..."

Y/N snort-laughed beside him. He turned slowly to glare at her. Y/N beamed back at him, completely unimpressed with his scowl. "Wow, sweetie, that was a rookie move!"

"Ugh!" Dean moaned as he dropped his weary head into his hands. "I just got in two hours ago."

Y/N took pity on him and sat up a little so she could run her hand across the back of his neck, trying to squeeze out some of the kinks.

"I didn't even hear you come in."

She smoothed a hand across her round belly. "This little one had me asleep a half hour after I put MJ down."

Dean smiled at her and kissed her softly, and she moved her hand from the back of his neck over the warm smooth skin of his bare chest, wanting nothing more than to curl up with him and sleep for another ten hours.

But she could hear MJ next door singing the wrong words to Jingle Bells, loudly and off key, so she pulled back.

She ran her palm across Dean's cheek. "How was the hunt?"

Dean didn't respond. He just shook his head and closed his eyes, nuzzling his lips into her palm. She knew what that meant, something had gone wrong, there was someone they couldn't save. She so wished she could take the bad memories away for him.

He leaned forward and wrapped his big hands around the mound of her belly, pressing soft kisses there. "Are you behaving for your Mama, young man?"

Y/N chuckled as she carded her fingers through his short hair. "Young man?"

Dean shrugged and smiled. "Could be."

Y/N shook her head in mock sorrow, cupping Dean's cheek once again. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid you're destined to live your life surrounded by women!"

Dean grinned wide as he pushed her gently back on the pillow. "Oh, what a struggle!" he rumbled, pressing his lips to Y/N's neck and then making her squeal by rubbing his scruff against the sensitive skin there.

Suddenly MJ popped her head around the doorframe of their bedroom with her hand over her eyes, censoring herself from watching her parents kissing.

"Ugh, Daddy come on!! The snow might leave!" she urged.

She ran back to her room and Dean sighed and started to push himself up. But Y/N grabbed onto his shoulder. "No, sweetie, don't worry about it. You go back to sleep. I'll go make her breakfast and tell her she'll just have to wait a couple of hours. She'll live."

Dean shook his head. "Ah...no. You sleep." He placed another kiss on her belly before he kissed her lips hard and fast. "You're the one growing the human."

Y/N smiled and shook her head. "No, Dean -" but he cut her off with another, softer kiss.

"It's okay, sweetheart, really." He said when he pulled away. "I'd really like to spend time with MJ and...make her happy, and just...just listen to her laugh." His eyes were happy, but slightly shadowed as he looked at her. "You know?"

Y/N smiled, understanding. "Okay. I'll make some hot chocolate for when you guys come back in."

"Uh uh." Dean scolded as he stood up and pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt. "You sleep."

He grabbed his red and black flannel that had been thrown across a chair and shrugged it on before leaning down and giving her another peck on the lips. "I mean it, I wanna see closed eyeballs and deep breathing from you when we get back."

She returned his mock serious look with a salute. "Yes, Sir! I will definitely not climb out of bed five minutes after you leave."

Dean pushed out his lips and nodded. "So...six minutes?"

"Exactly."

***

Y/N walked up to the small door at the back of the laundry room. To a casual observer it would look like a broom cupboard or a linen closet. But in reality, it was a magically sealed door that led to the most protected outdoor area anywhere in the world.

Behind the bunker was a giant yard, complete with swing set and sand box, both of which were non-operational for the winter. But there was also a six foot by six foot skating rink that Dean had made himself, refusing to let anyone else help, not even Sam.

Rowena and Cas told him they could make it appear in a heartbeat, but he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to do it for MJ and DJ, Sam and Eileen's son, as a Christmas present, since the holiday was barely two weeks away.

He told the witch and the angel that they'd done more than enough for them with all the magical and angelic warding and protections that kept the yard completely cloaked from outsiders.

Only friends and family had the ability to open the door from the laundry room. All it took was their fingerprint. But unless your fingerprints were magically imprinted in the door, you couldn't get through. A rather ingenious spell that Auntie Ro and Uncle Cas had worked on together to protect their little adopted family.

And to anyone who passed by the old, abandoned building that was the bunker on the outside, the field beyond the building just looked overgrown and wild.

It was a wonderful place for MJ and DJ to get exercise and fresh air in safety.

Y/N stepped through the door now to let Dean and MJ know that the promised, homemade, hot cocoa was ready, marshmallows and all.

She wrapped her giant wool wrap tighter against the brisk winter wind that hit as soon as she stepped outside. She smiled as she saw the small army of snowmen that father and daughter had built over the last hour.

They were both standing by the biggest and tallest snowman out of the bunch and Dean held a giant snowball in his hands. He shook his head.

"I don't know, kiddo. He's so tall, I don't know if I can reach the top to put his head on." Dean reached out, his elbows still tucked to his sides and groaned as he pretended to stretch as far as he could.

"Nope. I don't think I can reach. You'll have to lift me up."

MJ fell into fits of giggles at that image. "No, Daddy!" she said breathlessly. "I can't lift you! You're too big!"

"I don't know." Dean reasoned. "You are pre-tty strong."

But MJ was shaking her head, grinning. "No. You pick me up!"

Dean's jaw dropped. "I never thought of that!" he said in wonderment. "Boy! You are one smart cookie!"

He handed her the giant snowball head and scooped her up to sit on one of his broad shoulders. He clamped her in place with one giant hand at her waist.

MJ stuck the head in place and Dean cheered, running her around while MJ pumped her fists.

"We did it!" she cheered in her high-pitched voice, breathless with the excitement of being so tall and moving so fast.

As Y/N watched she felt her heart grow in her chest just as the little one in her belly somersaulted. She ran her hand down the bump and spoke quietly to them.

"You sure are lucky to have him, sweet pea." She nodded. "We all are."

@akshi8278, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Masterlist Tag Lists

[burntsecrets]

Dodging Cupid's Arrows

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2630

Prompt: Cupid's Got A Shotgun by Carrie Underwoods

Summary: An encounter with Cupid forces you to face your feelings for the Winchester Brothers.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, unresolved romantic tension, fear of emotional vulnerability, self-doubt, internal conflict, unrequited love, intense emotional introspection, defensive behavior, discussion of emotional scars, mentions of past relationship trauma, slow burn, protective behavior, Cupid intervention, romantic frustration.

The bar’s dim, sputtering light casts a weak glow overhead, barely illuminating the worn wooden tables and the scuffed floor beneath your boots. Shadows cling to the walls like old memories, and you sink deeper into your chair, swirling the last of your whiskey in the glass before taking a slow sip. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat, spreading a fleeting warmth through your chest, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging in your head. It never does.

It’s the same pattern every time, isn’t it? Men with honeyed words slip into your life, leaving behind promises as thin as smoke, promises they never intend to fulfill. Before you know it, you're left standing in the wreckage of something that wasn’t even real, just a mirage of what could have been. All those "almosts" stack up like bricks, weighing heavy on your heart, and even though you’ve never had a real relationship, it feels like you've been left shattered more times than you can count.

The scars are there, even if no one else can see them. They linger in every moment a guy brushes you off, in the hollow smile you force when you know it's not real. You feel the sting in every glance that sizes you up like you’re a prize to be won rather than a person to know. So you’ve built your walls, layering them high and thick until nothing, no one, can break through. Not even him.

Or them.

Sam and Dean Winchester—they didn’t just walk into your life. No, they crashed into it, two forces of nature that bulldozed right through your carefully constructed defenses, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way you swore you’d never be again. At first, you tried to play it cool, act like they were just hunters, comrades in arms. But the months blurred together, and now you can’t even tell how long it’s been. And that scares you because losing track means losing control and losing control means letting them in.

And letting them in? That’s not an option.

Even now, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their presence lingering in the air like a storm cloud ready to break. Sam’s by the pool table, his lean, tall frame moving with practiced ease as he lines up shot after shot. There’s a calm to him, but it’s the kind that keeps you on edge, like he could switch in an instant and suddenly be dangerous. Then there’s Dean, perched at the bar with a half-empty beer in hand, his eyes flicking between the room and you, constantly scanning for threats, always watching. 

Always watching you.

They’re protective. It should comfort you, but it drives you insane. Because the truth is, no matter how many monsters they face, no matter how many battles they fight, they can’t protect you from what matters most. They can’t protect you from yourself.

You think back to the last hunt, to the ridiculousness of it all—a damn Cupid, of all things. The little winged freak zeroed in on you from the moment you stepped into that abandoned church, those bright, beady eyes tracking you with unnerving precision. He wasn’t cute, not like the Valentine's Day cards would have you believe. No, this thing was more like a demented cherub, armed with arrows dipped in cosmic mischief, and he had you in his crosshairs. You could feel it in the air—the tug, the weight, as though Cupid himself was hell-bent on forcing you to confront feelings you’d buried so deep even you were beginning to forget they existed. Each arrow he loosed sent your heart racing, as if you could sense the emotional mess he was trying to weave. But you dodged them all, every last one, determined not to let some glorified matchmaker unravel everything you’d worked so hard to lock away.

You're not stupid. You know precisely what the little bastard was aiming for. It’s not like you’ve been blind to the way Sam’s gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, soft and curious, like he’s trying to piece you together. Or the way Dean’s jaw tightens, a flicker of possessiveness in his green eyes, whenever some random guy at a bar edges too close, his whole demeanor shifting to silent warning. You’ve been dodging these unspoken glances for months now, sidestepping their care, their questions, like someone dancing around a minefield. Because you know that once you stop moving, it’ll all explode in your face.

And you’ve had enough explosions in your life.

But there’s only so much running you can do before the inevitable catches up.

“Hey.”

Dean’s gravelly voice slices through the whirlwind of your thoughts, rough but steady, anchoring you as he slides into the seat beside you. His presence is a weight that presses into the air, solid, almost suffocating in its certainty. The chair creaks beneath him, but all you hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, thundering in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, but it’s more than that. It’s the question beneath the question, the one you’ve been dodging for longer than you can remember.

Your heart skips a beat—a betraying thud that echoes in the hollowness you’ve tried to keep locked down. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, but he makes it impossible to pretend. You glance at him, careful to keep your face neutral, masking the fluttering in your chest with a look you’ve perfected over years of pretending. It’s almost second nature by now—the practiced nonchalance. But with Dean, it’s always been different.

There’s something in the way his green eyes bore into yours, piercing through the walls you’ve built brick by brick, layer by layer. It’s as though he sees right past your armor, straight into that small, fragile part of you that still aches for something real. Something more. But you can’t let him see that. You won’t. So you shove it down, hard, pushing that flicker of vulnerability back into the shadows as you lean casually into your chair. Your body language distant, closed off.

“Yeah,” you shrug, the lie slipping from your lips as easily as breathing. “Just tired. Long day.”

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that familiar intensity, and you know—you know—he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. He’s seen you fight, seen you bleed, seen you crawl out of the wreckage of hunts that should’ve killed you. He’s seen you at your worst, and somehow, he still sticks around. He and Sam both do, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? They’ve gotten too close, wedged themselves into your life in ways that make it impossible for you to keep pretending.

Pretending that you don’t care.

Pretending that the way Dean looks at you doesn’t unravel something deep inside.

From across the room, you feel Sam’s eyes on you. His quiet gaze tracks the shift in the atmosphere as he casually leans his pool cue against the table and makes his way over, long strides slow but purposeful. His expression is calm and unreadable, but you see the concern in the tightness of his jaw and the subtle way his brow furrows as he joins Dean at your side.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam says softly, folding his arms across his broad chest. There’s no judgment in his tone, just that frustrating gentleness, the kind that makes you feel seen when you’d rather stay hidden. “Is it… about earlier? With Cupid?”

The mention of Cupid sends a sharp twist through your stomach. You swallow, forcing down the surge of emotions that threatens to rise, burying it beneath layers of practiced indifference. You won’t let some stupid angel with a bow and arrow undo everything you’ve worked so hard to keep locked away. You won’t.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the words slipping out too fast, too harsh. The crack in your voice betrays you. “That was nothing. Just another hunt.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the weight of Sam’s stare, too, both of them pinning you with that all-too-familiar look. The one that says they’re not buying your crap, the one that makes your pulse quicken, and your chest tighten. You hate that look because it leaves you nowhere to hide.

“Bullshit.” Dean’s voice is low, steady, cutting through the silence with calm certainty. He takes a long sip from his beer, but his eyes never leave yours, and it feels like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully put up to protect yourself. “You’ve been dodging that thing like it was the plague, and don’t think we didn’t notice.”

You clench your hands into fists in your lap, frustration bubbling up like a rising tide. “Look,” you say, your voice sharp, defensive. “I don’t need some magical arrow telling me how I’m supposed to feel. I’m fine the way I am.”

Sam shifts beside Dean, his arms still crossed, but you see the way the muscle in his jaw tenses, the way his hazel eyes soften as they search yours. “It’s not about what you’re supposed to feel,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about what you do feel.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, it’s all too much. The weight of their concern, the intensity of their gaze, the truth that they’re trying to force you to admit—it presses down on you until you can’t breathe. You stand up abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor as you push it back. The sound is harsh, jarring in the quiet of the bar, but you barely notice.

“I don’t feel anything, okay?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Not for you, not for him, not for anyone. And I won’t let some winged freak tell me otherwise.”

The tension in the air thickens, suffocating, hanging between the three of you like a storm cloud ready to break. Dean stands up slowly, his movements deliberate, his face carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something that cuts deeper than you want to admit. Hurt, maybe. Disappointment. You can’t think about it. You won’t.

“Y’know,” Dean says quietly, taking a step toward you, his voice low and steady, “you keep saying that, but you don’t believe it. Not really.” He’s close now, too close, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves, and it makes your pulse spike. “You’re just scared.”

Your heart slams against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. Fear coils tightly around your chest, but not the fear of them. No, it’s the fear of what they’re asking you to do. To let them in. To trust them. To stop running.

And running is all you know how to do.

“I’m not scared,” you whisper, but the words feel weak and empty, even to you.

Dean’s lips twitch into a small, humorless smile, his eyes softening just a fraction as he watches you. “Yeah, you are,” he says, his voice gentler now but no less intense. “And that’s okay. But maybe it’s time you stopped running from it.”

Sam steps closer, his presence steady and calm, grounding you in a way that you don’t want to admit you need. His voice is soft, full of quiet understanding, but there’s an unshakable strength beneath it. “You don’t have to do this alone, y’know,” he says. “We’re here. We always have been.”

The words sink into you, settling deep into the cracks of your carefully guarded heart, and something inside you shifts. Just a little. It’s terrifying, the idea of trusting them, of letting yourself hope, but there’s also something achingly beautiful about it. About the possibility that maybe, for once, you don’t have to be the one to leave first. That maybe, you don’t have to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

But still, the fear—the bone-deep, soul-crushing fear of opening up, of letting someone in only to be left behind again—is overwhelming and paralyzing.

“I can’t,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper now, trembling under the weight of the truth you’re too afraid to admit. “I can’t risk it.”

Dean’s hand reaches out slowly, cautiously, like he knows one wrong move could send you running. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers, calloused from years of hunting, gently find yours, and instead of just holding your wrist, he entwines his fingers with yours, locking them together with a quiet but unspoken promise. The touch is soft yet firm, his thumb grazing the back of your hand in slow, soothing strokes, as if he’s trying to reassure you with every heartbeat. The warmth of his skin against yours sends a shiver up your spine, igniting something deep inside you, something you’ve kept buried for so long you almost forgot it was there.

You feel the weight of his presence settle over you like a blanket, heavy with meaning, but there’s nothing suffocating about it. It’s grounding, steady—safe. And yet, that safety terrifies you because it’s the kind you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve. But Dean, he isn’t giving you a choice. Not this time.

His other hand comes up slowly, his movements deliberate and gentle, as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second. His palm cups your cheek, warm and rough, but his touch is tender, almost reverent. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. The simple motion cracks something inside you, and for a moment, it feels like the walls you’ve built so carefully over the years are crumbling under the weight of his touch.

"Maybe you’re not the only one taking a risk here," Dean murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, filled with all the things he’s never said but has always felt. His eyes search yours, and in them, you see it—the longing, the fear, the desperate hope that you’ll stay, that you’ll finally let them in. That you’ll choose them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, anchoring you to the moment. His thumb continues its slow, tender sweep across your cheek, and the tenderness in his gaze is enough to break your heart. This man, this infuriating, stubborn, protective man, who has fought demons and monsters and everything in between, is standing here with his heart wide open, asking you to stop running. Asking you to be with him and his brother in a way that terrifies you more than any hunt ever could.

For the first time, you feel the weight of what’s at stake—not just for you, but for him, for Sam. This isn’t just about you being afraid of getting hurt. It’s about them too, about the risk they’re taking by loving you, by wanting you to be a part of their lives. And it hits you with such force that you almost can’t breathe. They aren’t asking for your walls to come down—they’re asking to stand beside them. To hold you through the fear, through the pain, through whatever comes next.

You stare up at Dean, his hand still cradling your face like you’re something precious, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder—really wonder—if maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one with something to lose.

Because you can feel it now—the risk they’re taking, the way they’re holding their breath, waiting for your answer, waiting for you to finally say yes. And in that moment, you realize that they’ve already decided. They’ve already chosen you.

It’s your turn to choose them.

taglist // @spnfanficpond @spnfans