#dean winchester x hunter! reader
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Meeting the Winchesters - Dean and Sam Winchester
plot: meeting the Winchesters while working on a case and you decide to work together.
character: Dean Winchester x hunter! reader + Sam Winchester x hunter! reader
a/n: I've been looking through my old writings and trying to fix them up and post them again in here :)
There you were at a bar reading a file for the case you were working on, you didn't have an office because you weren't a lawyer or a police officer, not even a detective you were a hunter. Yes, that's right hunting things that were barely human, even humans don't believe in them but that's not important you needed to solve the case and get out of this town.
You tried to list all the things that could be the cost of this like demons or werewolves even shapeshifters and the list goes on, while you were reading you heard a man's voice next to you talking to the bartender
"Two beers sweetheart"
You glanced at the man he was handsome and had short brown hair with green eyes and he was wearing a suit the tie was a little loose like he just got out of work. He looked at you
"Well hello" he said to you
"Not interested" you said going back to reading the file.
"I didn't say anything" he tried to defend himself but he didn't get a reply from you, he raised his eyebrow and tried to get a look at the case file "You're working on this new case, right?"
You looked at him again with dead eyes "Do you need something?" you asked because if he kept bothering you, you would punch him in the face.
"Here are your drinks sir" the bartender said putting the two beers in front of him, he smiled at her.
"Thanks" then turned his attention back to you "I'm working on this case too" he extended his hand for you to shake "My name is Dean Winchester"
You raised your eyebrow "Wait Winchester as in John Winchester's kid?"
Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrow
"You know who my dad is?"
You smiled for the first time day "Dude John is the coolest person I've ever met"
He looked confused "I didn't catch your name"
You put down the file and extended your hand to him "My name is Y/N Y/L/N nice to meet ya"
he shook it.
"Cool, listen my brother and I are working on this case wanna join us and share what you got with us?"
You got your things "Sure"
He took the two beers and led you to a booth where a man was setting there with his laptop doing some research. "Hey Sam this is Y/N Y/L/N she'll be working with us on this case" he informed him.
Sam looked up from his laptop screen and smiled at you. He extended his hand "Nice to meet you Y/N" You shook his hand "You too" You sat down on the opposite side of the boys and talked for 3 hours about what you got on the case. After discussing the case you guys started telling stories.
"So Y/n how do you know our dad?" Dean asked after taking a sip from his beer Sam looked at Dean first then you.
"Wait you knew our dad?"
You laughed "Yeah I did. He and my dad were friends and worked a few cases together when I was like 10 I looked over a case file that was lying around and told my dad about my theory but my dad didn't want me near anything he said 'I won't raise you as a hunter' but that didn't really stop me so when I told him he yelled at me for even thinking about it then John said 'Hey the kid is not wrong it won't harm us if we go according to her theory' of course my dad yelled at him for encouraging me but I just smiled at him. After the hunt, he told me that I was right about it and that I would be great at whatever I would be doing in the future".
Dean smiled "So you were a nerd since you were a little kid?"
You hit him on his arm playfully "Shut up"
He raised his hands in the air laughing.
"Don't worry he calls me a nerd all the time" Sam said smiling
"Ok so tomorrow we will talk to the victims' families" You said you all agreed on meeting outside the first victim's house.
~~Time skips to after you solved the case~~
Turned out that crossroad demons were behind everything and you and the boys solved the case you were in the bar to celebrate.
"You guys really made a name for yourselves in this career" you said looking at the boys
"Yeah, how could you not" Dean replied
"So Y/n if your dad didn't want you to be a hunter what would you be doing now?" Sam asked
"Oh well maybe I would've been a fancy lawyer you know the one who gives people the creeps just by looking at them and well a very good one." you said smiling.
You look at your watch "Oh well I gotta get out of here" standing up and taking your bag.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked
"I got another case and I need to visit someone in New York"
Dean stood up "Well good luck out there" he hugged you
"Yeah, you too Winchester" You hugged Sam next
"It was great meeting you" he said
"Oh I know" you smirked
"Hope I see you two around Bye boys" and with that you got out of the bar and into your car and drove to the state line.
#writings-of-a-demigod#supernatural#supernatural imagines#supernatural oneshot#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester x reader#dean winchester imagines#sam winchester imagines#dean winchester x hunter! reader#sam winchester x hunter! reader
60 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader
Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.
Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd
Word Count: 8.5k
Dead Man's Blood
(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)
 The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isnât the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when Iâd linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isnât that different. âWell, man,â Dean starts, folding his newspaper. âNot a decent lead in all of Nebraska. Whatâve you got?â
  I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen Iâve been looking out for God knows how long. âNothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,â I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. âUnless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.â
  âSounds more like âThatâs Incredibleâ than, uh, âTwilight Zone,ââ Dean remarks.
  âYeah definitely weird but not that concerning,â I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasnât a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.
  âHey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?â Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. âCool chick man, smokinââ he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. âYou two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?â
  âYeah, I dunno, maybe someday,â he answers vaguely. âBut in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.â
  âYeah, alright,â Dean gives in.
  âYou get anything in the states you checked?â I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. âYeah,â he exhales. âUh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.â
  âThatâs certainly one way to go,â I mumble.
  âElkins?â Dean echos. âI know that name.â
  âYou do?â I ask.
  âDoesnât ring a bell,â Sam shakes his head.âSounds like the police donât know what to think,â he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dadâs journal. âAt first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, theyâve found some signs of robbery.â
  âYou know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,â I remark. Sure, if itâs supernatural related then they donât have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.
  Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. âThere, check it out,â he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. âYou think itâs the same Elkins?â Sam asks.
  âItâs a Colorado area code,â Dean points out.Â
****
  Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. Itâs not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.
  âLooks like the maid didnât come today,â Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. âHey, thereâs salt over here. Right beside the door,â Sam announces, lingering by the front door.Â
  âYou mean protection against demon salt or, âoops I spilled the popcornâ salt?â Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.
  My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didnât happen in this room, it doesnât seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. âItâs clearly a ring,â Sam clarifies. âYou think this guy Elkins was a player?â
  âDefinitely,â he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. âThat looks a hell of a lot like Dadâs,â Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. âYep, except this dates back to the 60s,â Dean responds.
  I step into what looks to be an office, or whatâs left of it. Itâs pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room Iâd believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. âWhoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,â I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. âWhatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,â Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.
  Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. âDo you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?â I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. âMaybe,â Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. âYou got something?â Sam asks.
 âI dunno,â he answers. âSome scratches on the floor.â
  âDeath throes maybe?â Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end.Â
  âYeah, maybe,â Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. âOr maybe a message.â He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. âLook familiar?â He asks, holding it up.
  âThree letters, six digits,â Sam answers. âThe location and combination of a post office box. Itâs a mail drop.â The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it outâŚit must be more than important.
  âJust the way Dad does it,â Dean adds.Â
****
 A simple letter rests in Samâs hand. The letter was found in the post office box. ââJ.W.ââ Sam reads off the envelope, âYou think that's John Winchester?â
  âI mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,â I offer, his number is inside the journal. âMaybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.âÂ
âShould we open it?â Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. âDad?â he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. âDad, what are you doing here?â Sam asks. âAre you alright?â
  âYeah, Iâm okay,â he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Samâs cut and a ragged beard. âI read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.â
  âWhy didnât you come in Dad?â Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.
  âYou know why. Because I had to make sure you werenât followedâŚby anyone or anything,â John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. âNice job of covering your tracks by the way,â he compliments. And itâs like being buttered up before the roastâ before youâre put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth.Â
  âYeah, well, we learned from the best,â Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.
  âWait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?â Sam points out.
  âYeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,â he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. âWell, you never mentioned him to us,â Sam shrugs.
  âWe had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,â he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. âI should look at that.â Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. â'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',â he reads, trailing off. âThat son of a bitch.â
  âWhat is it?â Dean asks.
  âHe had it the whole time,â he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. âHas what?â I ask.  âWhen you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?â He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically.  âUh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,â Dean answers.
  âThey have it,â John announces.
  ââYou mean whatever killed Elkins?â Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. âWe gotta pick up the trail.â But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, âWait. âYou want us to come with you?â
  âIf Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,â he explains, doing that thing where heâs insanely unhelpful.
  âThe gunâwhy?â Sam pushes.  âBecause it's important, that's why,â he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasnât very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. âDad, we don't even know what these things are yet,â Sam reasons.Â
  âThey were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,â he reveals, finally being helpful.  âVampires? I thought there was no such thing,â Dean answers.
  âYou didnât?â I ask, surprised.
  âYou did?â He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.
  âYeah,â I say like it's obvious. âI took down a nest back in college.â It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in âI owe youâ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.
  I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is.Â
  âYou did?â John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. âDonât sound so surprised,â I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and Iâm already a little irritated. Iâd like to think that Iâm not a hateful person, that I donât hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly Iâm the biggest hater youâve ever seen. âWell, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins andââ he throws a glare at me. âAnd others had wiped them out. I was wrong.â  âYou were,â I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers.Â
  âMost vampire lore is crap,â he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. âA cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.â
  âThe way to kill them is decapitation,â I add. âInterestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, itâs interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when itâs the first ever Vampire novel so itâs not like he changed things to be different.â
  âAre you done?â John remarks, unamused.
  âYeah, now I am,â I respond, equally unamused with him.
  âWake up! Come on,â a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the âMm-hmm,â that follows from its lips.Â
  My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didnât fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though weâd done it before. I know John doesnât trust me, even though I havenât done anything to warrant such feelings. Itâs more like he doesnât trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didnât want me in a separate room because it would âwaste time and money.â So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.
  I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. âI picked up a police call,â John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement.Â
  âWhat happened?â Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Deanâs hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, âA couple called 911, âfound a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.â
  âHow do you know?â Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. âJust follow me, okay?â he responds, shutting the door behind him.Â
âHuh, vampires,â Dean muses, his eyes still half open. âGets funnier every time I hear it.â
****
 The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know youâre going to be waiting forever. âI donât see why we couldnât have gone over with him,â Sam complains, sulking slightly.Â
  âShouldâve let us sleep,â I agree, mumbling. I donât see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess thatâs John for you.Â
  âOh, donât tell me itâs already starting,â Dean responds.  âWhat's starting?â he asks. But he doesnât get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. âWhat have you got?â he asks his Dad.Â
  âIt was them alright,â John confirms. âLooks like theyâre heading west. Weâll have to double back to get around that detour.â
  âHow can you be so sure?â Sam asks, arms crossed.Â
  âSamâŚâ Dean warns.
  âI just wanna know we're going in the right direction,â he snaps at his brother.
  âWe are,â John answers vaguely.
  âHow do you know?âÂ
  John hands something small to Dean, answering with âI found this.âÂ
  Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. âItâs aâŚâ he tries to find the words, âa vampire fang.â
  âItâs not necessarily a fang,â I correct. âAn entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.âÂ
  âAny more questions?â John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking awayâthe kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. âAlright, letâs get out of here, weâre losing daylight,â John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesnât have to be in the same car as us. âHey, Dean why donât you touch up your car before you get rust?â he throws back the comment, âI wouldnât have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.âÂ
  I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. âAsshole,â I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.
  âWhatâd you say?â John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, âI didnât say anything.â I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.
*****
  The Impala rolls down the road, following Johnâs truck. âVampires nest in groups of eight to ten,â Dean reads from the passenger seat. âSmaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if thatâs what happened to that 911 couple.â
  âI didnât see the corpses well enough but itâs likely,â I answer, though I donât know why John didnât let us see the body or do any work.
  âItâs probably what Dad's thinking. âCourse it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,â Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow.  âSo it is starting,â Dean remarks.
  âWhat?â
  Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out.Â
  âSam, we've been looking for Dad all year,â he explains. âNow we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?âÂ
  âHm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?â he responds. âAnd I'm happy that we're all working together again.â âWell good.â
  âItâs just the way he treats us like weâre children,â Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But Iâm here for the John bashing.Â
  âOh God,â Dean mumbles.Â
  âHe barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.â
  Samâs not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. Heâs really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply canât discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.
  âHe does what he does for a reason,â Dean reasons.  âWhat reason?â Sam pushes.
  âOur job!â Dean snaps. âThere's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.â  âIâd argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,â I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, Iâm pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. âYeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?âÂ
  A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like heâs trying to muster the right words. âIf thatâs what it takes.â
****
 We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. âYeah, Dad. Alright, got it,â he answers before hanging up. âPull off at the next exit.â
  âWhy?â Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.
  âCause Dad thinks weâve got the vampireâs trail,â Dean responds.
  âHow?âÂ
  âI donât know; he didnât say.â
  Suddenly Iâm pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. âWhat the frick, Sââ I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. âOh crap here we go,â Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.
  âWhat the hell was that?â John yells, stomping over to his son.
  âWe need to talk.â
  John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some âsenseâ into him. âAbout what?â
  âAbout everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?â
  âSammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,â Dean says.
  âYouâre brothers right, we donât have time for this,â John adds.  âLast time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,â Sam yells. âNow obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!â  âGet back in the car.â  âNo.â  âI said get back in the damn car.â  âYeah. And I said no.â
  âOkay, you made your point tough guy,â Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. âLook we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.â Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, âThis is why I left in the first place.â  âWhatâd you say?â
  Sam steps forward, snapping back, âYou heard me.â
  âYeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.â
  âSamâŚâ Dean warns.
  âYou walked away!â John yells in his face.
  âCome on, stop,â I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps.  âYou're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!â
  Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. âListen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!â   They donât say another word; they just glare at each other over Deanâs head. âThat means you too,â Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, âAre you okay?â The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I donât know why he asks me; itâs not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.
  With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess itâs likely theyâre both vampires. âSon of a bitch,â Dean curses. âSo theyâre really not afraid of the sun?â
  âDirect sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill âem is by beheading,â John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. âAnd yeah, they sleep during the dayâdoesnât mean they wonât wake up.â
  âSo I guess walking right inâs not our best option,â Dean remarks.
  âActually, thatâs the plan,â John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked.Â
  Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that itâs like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they werenât human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.
  âSo, you really wanna know about this Colt?â John suddenly asks.  âYes sir,â Sam answers.
  It's just âa story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,â he starts. âBack in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. âStory goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.â
  Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I donât want to discern. We arenât in the nest, and yet itâs like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. âKill anything like supernatural anything?â Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.
  âLike the demon,â Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe itâs a survival instinct, or maybe itâs selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I donât think Iâve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now Iâm aware of something that can. It wonât be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there wonât be hopeâjust death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.
  âYeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,â John answers.
  I want to be happy for them. Iâm trying to be happy. Iâm trying to push the fear away because isnât it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I donât get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and Iâm at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. âNo offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,â I start, my fear turning into anger. âBut did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?â Iâm not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this couldâve been left out for God knows how long. âI mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? âCause it wouldâve been a great warning.â
  He doesnât answer, and Iâm not sure if heâs going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. âYou know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.â I know Iâm being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.
  âYou should be grateful I havenât sent your ass back home,â he bites.
  âYeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daevaâs.â
  âY/N,â Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. âNo, Dean, this is serious,â I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I donât dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.
  âWere you going to say something if Sam hadnât called you out?â I ask him again. But, Iâm sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. Iâm arguing with a guy who couldnât care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until itâs replaced by shame. âYou know what? Never mind,â I give up. âLetâs just go kill the vampires.â I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn.Â
  I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I donât make a sound, even though Iâm outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isnât the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions.Â
  I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor.Â
  Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one thatâs farthest away from the others, even if far isnât far at all.
  I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it canât possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.
  I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, itâd be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in âTell-Tale Heart.â
  By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.
  âRun!â John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but thereâs no clear exitâjust solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it.Â
  The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, Iâm getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I canât say the same for John. I know he doesnât care if I get injured or die.Â
  âThey won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,â John informs, slightly out of breath.  âWell, what the hell do we do now?â Dean asks.
  I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. âIâll go back in there and finish it,â I answer.
  âNo, youâre not,â Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.
  âWhy not?â I ask. âI already killed two andââ
  âYou did?â John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.
  âNo, my machete is just normally covered in blood.âÂ
  âYouâre not goinâ back in,â Dean says firmly.
  âDeanââ
  âNot on my watch.â  âOh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,â I reason, following him as he walks away.Â
  âNot happening.â
  âDonât you want that gun?â
  He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. âNot at the expense of your life.â His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.
  âIâm very capable of doing it myself,â I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.
  âI know you are,â he replies, his voice low and sure. ââDoesnât mean Iâm lettinâ you go.â
  âI donât have to listen to you, you know,â I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue.  His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, âI donât see you goinâ.â
  The words hang heavy between us. Heâs got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like heâs daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesnât rushâhis hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.
 âWeâll need dead manâs blood,â I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.
****
  After splitting up from John and Samâand some lying and distracting on our partâ Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.
  Now, I lean over the carâs popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. âCar trouble?â a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didnât take them long to show up. âLet me give you a lift. Iâll take you back to my place,â she purrs.
  I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. âIâm sure youâd like that,â I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, Iâm not afraid of her or the other vampire. Iâm just here to get her close enough for a good shot. âWould you like that?â she asks, spinning my question.
  âIâm sorry, but Iâm not Buffy and youâre not Spike,â I smile teasingly.Â
  Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. âYou know, I should kill you for what you did to them.âÂ
  And I know sheâs talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. âWill you?â I challenge. Iâm sure she wonât, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. âWe could have some fun first,â she answers, eyes tracing back up.
  Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. âHeard you had a boyfriend,â I remark. âYou think heâd mind youââ She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth.Â
  She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. âDammit,â she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. âIt barely even stings,â she claims.
  âGive it time, sweetheart,â John answers. âThat arrowâs soaked in dead manâs blood. Itâs like poison to you, isnât it?â
  Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where sheâs been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. âLoad her up,â John directs, moving to the other vampire whoâs also on the floor with an arrow through her. âIâll take care of this one.â
  I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.
****
  The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. âToss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,â John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.
  Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, âStuff stinks!â
  âThatâs the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,â I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. âYou can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.â I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face.Â
  ââYou sure theyâll come after âer?â Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.
  âYeah,â John answers. âVampires mate for lifeââ
  âDidnât seem she cared about that with Y/Nâ Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, âWhat? She was the one who looked real into you.â There's a certain edge to his voice that I canât quite discern, something almost snarky.
  âWell, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,â I explain. âIâm not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.â Still, Dean doesnât seem particularly satisfied with that answer.
  âShe means more to the leader than the gun,â John continues. âBut the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.â  âA half-hour oughta do it,â Sam answers.  âAnd then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,â John orders.
  âButâŚâ
  âWell, Dad you canât take care of them all yourself,â Dean cuts his brother off.
  âI'll have her and the Colt,â John reasons.
  âThatâs hardly a lot of protection,â I point out.
  âAnd if I remember you wanted to go in with less,â he bites back.
  âI also have abilities that you donât. I can stay with you, âmake sure you get it safely.â
  ââDonât need your protection,â he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesnât want backup then he doesnât want it.
  âBut after. We're gonna meet up, right?â Sam asks. âUse the gun together. Right?â There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. âYou're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.â
  âLike what?â
  âLike children,â Sam answers firmly.  âYou are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,â he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away.  âDad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,â Dean says, all heads snapping to him.  âExcuse me?â
  I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. âYou know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.â  âIt's not the same thing, Dean.â  âThen what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?â  âThis demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.â  âYou mean you can't be as reckless.â
  âLook... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.â The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. âYour mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.â
  Iâm sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they shouldâve been worrying about school not their lives.  âWhat happens if you die?â Dean points out. âDad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know Iâve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.â
  Sam nods.
  âWe're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,â Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit.  âWe're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.â His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.
****
  We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, itâs against what we were directed to do but we arenât exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.
  We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. Heâs backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.
  Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. âDon't!â someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Samâs neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. âI'll break his neck. Put the blade down,â the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Samâs neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.
  Suddenly, the manâs arm is forced from Samâs neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. âYou people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,â the man cries and I falter.Â
I falter. The one thing youâre never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesnât matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. âLutherrrr!!!!â the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. Sheâs dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.
  I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didnât leave anything when John entersâthe first weâve seen him since last night. âSo boys,â he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.
  âYes sir,â Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.
  âYou ignored a direct order back there,â he starts.
  âYes sir,â Sam answers.  âYeah, but we saved your ass,â Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.
  âYou're right,â John, surprisingly, nods.  âI am?â
  âIt scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.â  âYes sir,â they say in unison.
  âAnd I guess you can be there too,â he adds, looking over at me.
(Next Chapter)
Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @ugvvguggvvgu @yasmin12312 @squishytap
#supernatural#fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#the hunter and the witch#sam winchester#dean winchester x witch reader#slow burn#john winchester#supernatural season one#dean winchester jealous#dean winchester x f!reader#dean winchester x reader series#dean winchester x fem!reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x f!reader series#john winchester as a warning#vampires
99 notes
¡
View notes
Text
ââ ŕ¨ŕ§ !ăđĄđđŞ đđđđđ§đđ˘đĄ
ăăăăăăăđ
đđđ đđđđđđđđđđ x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N discovers she is pregnant and worries about how her boyfriend, Dean, will react.
WARNING: None.
REQUESTED?: Yes, on Wattpad.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
ăăăŕźťâŚŕźş ăŕźťâ§ŕźşăŕźťâŚŕźş
Y/N closed her eyes tightly, leaning forward over the closed toilet seat as she clenched her hands into fists around the pregnancy test, pulling a puff of air through her nose as if trying to keep herself in reality.
The woman had noticed changes in her body through last weeks, especially in her breasts that seemed larger and more sensitive than normal, which made her wonder if she was close to her period, as this is one of the symptoms of it, but her calendar showed that her period would only come 2 weeks later.
But then the week of her menstrual cycle arrived but there was no drop of blood, the pack of pads Dean had bought the week before was untouched on the counter, and then she began to worry, several possibilities swirling around her mind, but none of them were that one.
Until the day before, during a conversation between herself and Castiel, where the angel blatantly blurted out something he shouldn't have.
"...But that's all I've been able to find so far, Cass. With all the evidence and research, I think we're dealing with a different species of werewolf, but I'd rather read up a little more just to be sure." Y/N informed Castiel, pointing to the open book in front of her on the central wooden table in the bunker room.
"Uhm... Just don't overwork yourself, it won't be good for the baby." The angel responded, getting up from the chair he was sitting next to Y/N and straightening his coat.
The sound of choking echoed through the room, Y/N having choked on air at the older man's response.
"Who?" She asked, looking at him intently.
"The baby." Castiel replied as if it were obvious, his blue eyes widening seconds later. "You didn't know?" He asked slowly, swallowing hard.
"Castiel, what are you not telling me?" Y/N asked, standing up from her chair.
"Wow look at that, Dean is calling me, I have to go." And then the angel disappeared, leaving Y/N alone.
"Hey baby, how are... Y/N? What happened?" Dean entered the room seconds later, interrupting his speech halfway when he saw his girlfriend's frightened and pale face.
"Nothing." She responded quickly, leaving the room with everything behind.
Y/N spent that whole day thinking about what Castiel said, putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and the worst of all, it made sense; her body changed, her mood changed, her desires were strange and her period was late.
The woman managed, later that afternoon, to escape the bunker for a few hours and go to the nearest pharmacy, where she bought four pregnancy tests in the absence of one.
The next day, today, she took advantage of Dean and Sam's departure to investigate more about the current case to take the tests, spending long minutes staring at the closed boxes and wondering if she was ready to know the results.
Finally, working up the courage, she took two of the four tests, leaving the other two closed just in case.
Tension took over her body and she wondered how she would tell Dean if the result was positive, what direction her life would take, her life as a hunter...
Finally, 5 minutes later, she opened her tightly closed eyes, lowering her head and looking at the small screen where the result would be shown.
Pregnant.
ăăăăă༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
That night, Y/N found herself sitting on the bed in her shared room with Dean, the two tests inside a small box that she had found among the Men of Letters' mess which she held in her hands, her eyes attentive to the closed door, seeming to hold her breath.
The sound of the bunker's entrance door opening and closing seemed to wake her up, Y/N blinked her eyes quickly, shaking her head and sighing, briefly looking at the box, but her attention was taken by the door again as she heard it open.
"Hey honey." Dean smiled big when he saw his girlfriend waiting for him, placing his suitcase on the floor and closing the door, starting to take off the tie that was part of his "costume" during the interviews he did regarding the current case.
"Hi Dean." Y/N replied quietly, a tight smile settling on her features, tilting her face slightly upwards as she saw Dean move closer to kiss her.
"Um, is this for me?" The hunter asked when he saw the box in his girlfriend's hands, bringing his hand closer to take it, stopping in his action when he saw Y/N move the box out of his reach.
"Um." She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. "Sorry... Dean, yes it's for you, and I want you to understand the seriousness of this... gift. It's very important to us." Y/N informed, finally extending the box towards the taller man, who was looking at her in confusion.
"Wow, are you asking me to marry you?" Dean joked, taking the box gently and sitting next to his girlfriend, pulling on the makeshift navy blue bow and carefully removing the lid.
His hand that was holding the lid stopped in the air, his body tensing in seconds as his mind seemed to stumble on thoughts, green eyes almost popping out.
"Dean?" Y/N called nervously, her hands were shaking and her heart was beating like crazy, fear was settling in her body and questions were running through her head, the last thing she wanted was to lose Dean, but she wouldn't know how to act if he didn't want the baby.
"A-are you... There's a..." Dean stumbled over his words, never before feeling as nervous as he did in that moment. "Are we going to be parents?" He finally asked, putting the lid and box aside and taking the two tests in his hand, alternating his gaze between them and Y/N.
"Yes Dean, I'm pregnant." Y/N responded, smiling in relief when Dean laughed loudly with joy, pulling her into a long kiss full of smiles.
Y/N laughed as Dean laid her on the bed, lowering himself a little over his girlfriend's body and lifting his own shirt that covered half of her smaller body, looking enchanted at his girl's belly, still not completely believing it.
Dean never exactly imagined himself having his own family, having grown up in a completely unstructured one, his biggest fear was that he wouldn't be a good partner, much less a good father. But after he met Y/N and his heart was completely encircled by the woman, all he wanted most was to be with her forever, only seeing her with him when he thought about the future.
He knew that he wanted a family with her.
ăăăăă༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Dean took a deep breath, turning his head to the side, his eyes carefully analyzing Y/N's face, her eyes practically closed and directed towards the ceiling, feeling extremely relaxed with her head lying on the man's shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, and that's how she realized something was wrong, the sound of the heartbeat becoming louder and faster than seconds before.
"Baby? Is everything okay? Your heart..." Y/N raised her head, now more attentive and awake than before, her eyes focusing on his, feeling her own heart heavy with the confusion of emotions installed in the green pool's.
"What if I can't protect him? What if... What if all our enemies-" He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "You will be vulnerable in these 9 months, what if you can't protect yourself like before? What if I'm not with you at all times and something catches you? The demons, Lucifer, even God... We have so many enemies spread across the world, I can't even imagine the danger he would be in just by breathing." Dean spoke as his eyes darted around the room, trying to find something that would make him think rationally.
"Hey, breathe baby." Y/N sat up straight on the bed, bringing her hands to Dean's cheeks and pulling his face so he was looking back at her. "Are you with me?" She asked, following his eyes until he looked back, nodding. "Dean, we won't always be there for him, we will raise our baby for the world and not for ourselves, the last thing I want is to keep him with us, that would be selfish of us. We will protect him throughout his life, and I guarantee you that we will do a great job at that, you know why? Because you are an incredible man and you care, the way you take care of Sam and practically raised him alone says that in itself. Yes, we have many enemies, more than I will ever be able to count, but we will learn together how to deal with this having this new addition in our lives, and I'm sure you'll get it right."
Dean sucked in air through his nose, his eyes filling with tears as a smile spread across his face, approaching and planting a lingering kiss on the lips that he already knew by heart and would never get tired of tasting.
"What would I do without you?" He whispered against Y/N's mouth, feeling her lips move into a smile.
"I don't know, but you would definitely be lost."
And at that moment Dean knew that the two of them would make it work, and in the near future they would have their complete family.
#x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#supernatural#sam winchester#castiel#hunters#angel#dean x reader#dean#winchester#imagine#oneshot#fanfic#fanfiction#fic#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#pregnancy#love#angst
400 notes
¡
View notes
Text
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/77dcbdfdf6c3dc88d510ab86c55bd561/4baf5cb863f74843-9e/s540x810/a45bbda0fb7f2165fbb67974b20666bd8977c87a.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cfdf7f96b011dcdc6d582a3760ae7caf/4baf5cb863f74843-60/s540x810/b8138023b940f73044e927fb3971cd03931f0e7c.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/94ac876878975ba3afa9a0dd930450b1/4baf5cb863f74843-00/s540x810/bd0e565403b6903bdfb80826c7664a7dfb13f0d8.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0ad7b833722062763477eed25c484491/4baf5cb863f74843-2e/s540x810/c26e21ab035106ce53106142994367e96a9e08de.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/90ac1ea32aafcee486edcabc567635ae/4baf5cb863f74843-11/s400x600/c5b679d890648cadaaf13381be518784bf4bb297.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6f537a091d7fd59f8941525a416fc4d1/4baf5cb863f74843-56/s540x810/c70273783aaf38ff40ba5040c6baa9fb941e5789.jpg)
#2013 tumblr#girlblogging#old tumblr#2013 girly#2014 nostalgia#2014 revival#2014 vibes#im just a girl#2012 tumblr#hot as hell#dean winchester#supernatural#this is a girlblog#girl blogger#dean x reader#sam and dean#angel#metallica#super natural#supernatural aesthetic#supernatural vibes#chevrolet impala#sam winchester#angels and demons#demon hunter#idk what else to tag#idk what im doing#idk how to tag this#tv series#tv shows
64 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Hunter Insert
Dean Winchester x Reader
Synopsis: You really didnât mean to, but somehow youâd stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.
Warnings:Â Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut. Â Itâs ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.
A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics! Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!
Youâd had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.
It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school. The tall goober took to you immediately. Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadnât felt in a long time. You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business. He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question. When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father. You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, âunwantedâ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.
They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.
You first met Dean when the business of his dadâs disappearance was in full swing. A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessicaâs place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in. You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.
You hadnât believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench⌠Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening. Â
After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasnât until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in. Being the only woman currently in Samâs life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had. You even became an incredibly capable hunter. Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started. Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.
And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.
At first, the fans were harmless. There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books. Â
He lied, obviously.
Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the âfameâ was from Tumblr.
Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their âfictionalâ counterparts. Artistsâ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce.Â
The art was amazing. Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent. But somehow, from Chuckâs descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works. It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once. It even got you to start reading the books!
And you couldnât blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!
Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuckâs latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother. Thank God the boys never read them, or youâd be in deep shit.
Some users sided with you âsheâs only human! And he is just soâŚwell, look at him!â Lewd pictures were attached to that post. Others condemned you. âSeriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetterâ âWhatâs Chuck thinking?â, âWorst. Ship. EVER!â
Those stung, youâd admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, itâs that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.
What you couldnât ignore was the fanfiction.
Oh goodness, the fanfiction.
What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didnât mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Deanâs mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!
It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.
That was one torture you just couldnât expose yourself to.
Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) andâŚyou. It was a prompt you hadnât read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream canât she?
And dream you did. Especially with Deanâs constant flirting and sexual innuendos.
The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phoneâs history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story youâd found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find⌠2 beds.
Oh.
Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.
----------
The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.
Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.
Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.
Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now. Â The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.
He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise. A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last. They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.
But Dean snored over all of them.
You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, youâd decided youâd had enough.
âDee.â Â You say lowly, hoping that heâll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that heâll shut the hell up.
The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.
âDee!â Â You snap, louder now. Â Nothing. Â âDean!â
A few moments passâŚ
NothingâŚ
Maybe it worked! Â Maybe-
Yeah, no, Â there he goes again.
Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone. Â Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.
You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes. Â Switching over from the homepage feed, you type âDean x readerâ into the appâs search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic. Â Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search. Â It doesnât seem like youâll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be? Â You let your thumbs fly over the screenâs keyboard.
Dean x reader smut.
Happy with your amendment, you hit âsearchâ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.
Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile. Â With your screenâs light as low as itâll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.
Youâve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides itâs time for you to get up. Â Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room. Â As soon as youâve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed. Â As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.
Hell, itâs not even in the bed.
Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours. Â When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didnât register you putting it away. Â Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.
----------
The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.
You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt. Â Heâs uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room. Â Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building. Â Itâs far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than youâd expected and the two of you donât run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.
Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the managerâs office. Â You find the haunted artifact like youâve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it. Â Itâs almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasnât even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.
Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.
----------
You donât allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam. Â Youâd spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning. Â Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life. Â But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.
âYou can take the king,â  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words heâs spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier. There hadnât even been one famous Dean innuendo all day. âIâll take the queen.â
You raise your eyebrow at that but donât argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.
No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep. Â It doesnât take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but itâs chased away almost instantly when Deanâs buzz saw snores kick to life again.
Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table. Â He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more. Â Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.
You open a new fanfic, this oneâs warnings staring you down as you read âsmut, language, NSFW gifsâ and you canât fight back the smirk that plays on your lips. Â Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.
You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the ficâs casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in. Â Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way heâs speaking to Y/N in this fic.
Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result. Â You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view. Â Itâs sinful, to say the least. Â You watch the way the manâs hips swivel into his loverâs, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.
Your lip is back between your teeth and you canât bring yourself to scroll on just yet. Â Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second. Â Oh, what you wouldnât give to have Dean moving against you that way. Â His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin. Â You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.
WaitâŚ
Silent.
You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence. Â A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.
Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away. Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.
Oh. Â
Oh, Jesus.
âWhatcha lookinâ at, Kiddo?â Â His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.
âNothing.â Â You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper. Â You donât miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain. Â When had he woken up? Â When had he snuck up behind you? Â How much had he read over your shoulder?
âDoesnât look like nothing to me.â Â He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that heâs debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further. Â When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear. Â âLooks like youâre being a very bad girl.â
The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.
He didnât just say thatâŚdid he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you. Dean makes comments like that all the time. Thatâs just how he is with you! Any moment now heâll chuckle like he always does.
But then he doesnât laugh with you. Â Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until heâs encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.
YouâreDreamingYouâreDreamingYouâreDreamingâŚ
âThatâŚthat was too far, wasnât it?â  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.
Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.
âDid you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?â Â OH MY GOD, you mentally scream. Â Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??
But then what if he didnât?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night beforeâŚand suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line youâd read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!
âYou read that!?â Â You screech, gripping your phone tighter. Â You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue. Â âYou put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!â Â Alright, you couldâve kept that bit to yourself.
Heâs biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell thatâs exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.
âMaybe?â  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  âI didnât mean to!  I justâŚI woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldnât bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at andâŚâ  He clears his throat.  âY/N, IâŚwere you reading pornâŚabout me?â
Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.
âItâs not porn!! Itâs fanfiction, and-â
âIt literally talks about me fucking you.â Â He deadpans, eyebrows raised. Â âIn explicit detail. Â Itâs porn.â
Youâre silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.
Of course, he doesnât.
âOk, fine!  Itâs porn, are you happy?â  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. âSoâŚare you going to tell Sam?â
âWhy the fuck would I tell him?!â
âI donât know!â
âDo you honestly think Iâd tell him something so personal?!â
âI donât know!â  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  âItâs embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenariosâŚâ
âY/N, I would never out you like that.â Â You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.
He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.
âDo youâŚdo you want me like that?â  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.
âNo, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.â Â He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.
âReally? Â Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.â
âDonâtyoudare!â Â The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you donât much care.
âOh? Â Then what should I do?â Â His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze. Â âShould I do this?â
Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.
âOh, please.â Â You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him. Â Only he doesnât quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.
âWords, Y/N.â Â He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.
âDean, please-â Â A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone. Â âPut your mouth on me.â
Nothing youâve ever read couldâve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.
He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders. Â The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.
He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties. Â To be honest, youâre not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.
In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading. Â But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until youâre practically singing for him.
You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then heâs tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and youâre keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair. Â He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.
You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.
âGod, you taste amazing.â Â He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle. Â âWhatâs so funny?â Â Do you admit that youâd read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?
But then heâs pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had. Â Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once theyâre exposed.
âYou got any protection?â Â He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow youâd lost count of how many bareback smuts youâd read.
Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasnât the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didnât even want to entertain at the moment.
So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared. Â You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.
He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.
âSee something you like, baby?â Â He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips. Â You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock. Â You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Deanâs thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then heâs growling and pulling you to him.
Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but youâre far too lost in Deanâs intoxicating proximity to care. Â He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.
You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Deanâs rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.
The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Deanâs knuckles brush you.
âOh, my god!â Â You huff, getting ever so impatient. Â He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - youâre aligned. Â A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is youâre about to do. Â
Youâre about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friendsâŚthe man youâve been fantasizing about for years.
âReady?â Â He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips. Â Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.
âDean, I swear to god, if you donât fu-ck me!â Â You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Deanâs own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home. Â Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long itâs been.
âShiiit,â Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.
Itâs been a while for him, too.
âJesus, youâre tight.â Â He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.
âAnd youâre huge.â Â He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing. Â âI, uh, think youâre good to move.â Â You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips. Â When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly. Â âOh, yeah. Â Very good to move.â
And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face. Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.
âFuck!â  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesnât seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  âShit, slow down, babyâŚI donât know how long I can last if you keep that up.â
Youâre about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.
âLetâs slow things down a little.â Â He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.
When he does, itâs dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.
âDean,â Â You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him. Â The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own. Â His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, heâs emptying inside the condom.
The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face. Â Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom. Â You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isnât.
âWell,â Â He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you. Â As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time. Â You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table. Â âArenât you glad I decided to snoop?â Â He teases as he takes the contraption from you.
âYeah, Yeah, Dee. Â But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!â
You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Deanâs body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the chargerâŚagain.
âHey, baby?â Â He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.
âHmm?â Â You hum, sleep tickling at your mind. Â That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.
âWhatâs Destiel?â
FIN
#Winchester#Winchester fanfiction#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#spn#spn fanfic#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#hunter reader#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural smut#dean winchester smut#spn reader insert#reader insert#dean Winchester reader insert#lena writes
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fearless Hunter Saved
Summary: Dean Winchester x Fe!Reader -> You are the most fearless hunter Dean knows. But he also knows sometimes, even the most fearless, get scared.
Disclaimer: This is a lot of Sad-Fluff. Attacked by a vamp, descriptions and mentions of blood, cuts and old scars. This might get a follow-along, maybe. Not proof read.
Dean had known you long enough to know you didnât get scared. Ever.Â
He might have only known you for six years, but it was longer than long enough to know when it came to Hunting - - you were one of the best.Â
But he also knew everyone had their point. Maybe not a breaking point, but a point big enough to scare even the most fearless of Hunters.Â
And for you, that was a Vamp hunt.Â
You had done plenty of Hunts in your time. Even long before you met the Winchester boys. Werewolves, Vampires, Ghosts, GhoulsâŚif it was dead, you could kill it.Â
But there was something about this hunt. This vampire nest.Â
It was a point.Â
Going into it, you were fine. You were normal.Â
Until Dean looked over and found you gone.Â
You had been fighting off a Vamp in the back corner of the barn last he had seen.Â
Then he heard a scream.Â
It wasnât long until he found you; fighting for your life, weaponless, bleeding and getting weaker by the second.Â
âBeg for your life.â The vamp kept telling you. âGo ahead, beg. No-one will hear you scream. You want to die with dignity? A Hunter, turning into something they fear the most. Go ahead, beg for your life and I might just do you justice and make sure your friends have a quick death.â
You shook your head, trying your best to fight off the tears but clearly losing. âPleaseâŚplease donât-â
The vamp laughed, feeling your limbs weaken beneath their hands. Only, as you closed your eyes, expecting death, everything went silent.Â
The hands around your arms and the weight above your body became lighter and your chestâŚhad never felt heavier.Â
It took three low breaths for you to focus your gaze on Dean who was standing above you, having kicked the decapitated body from yours.Â
âDeanâŚâ
Then he finally got a clear look at your face.Â
The only emotion he could read was
Fear.Â
Replacing his blade by his side, he lowered himself towards you, helping you sit up a little.Â
âHey, look at me, youâre okay.â He brushed the stray hairs from your face and tried his best to survey the cut across your head. âWe got emâ all. Youâre okay.â
Then, you hugged him. Tight.Â
You were known to hug both Sam and Dean a lot more often than any other Hunter, but it was never anything longer than three seconds and a quick check to make sure they were okay.Â
But this was different.Â
Dean could feel your entire body shaking in his arms. Your breathing was uneven to say the least and the grip of your fingers in his back were more than just a warning that you were terrified.Â
âHey, Sweetheart, look at me. Hey,â Dean leaned back a little so he could see your face. âItâs gonna be okay.âÂ
He brushed the tears from your eyes before pressing a kiss to your forehead and bringing you back to him.Â
âKeep your arms around my neck, okay?â
You nodded against him.Â
âI need words, darlinâ. Need to hear your voice.â
âOkay.â
Your voice was quiet. Nervous. Shaking.Â
Dean pressed his hand to your head as he held you closer to him and lifted you up.Â
âDean?! Dean! Whatâs-â
âGet in the car, Sam.â
Sam didnât ask again. Instead, he packed up the rest of the kit as Dean carried you towards the car, opened up the door and helped you inside. When Sam slid into the passenger seat, he tried his best to gauge his brotherâs reaction but couldnât find an explanation.Â
All he had seen was you being picked up by Dean and carried to the car.Â
The drive that usually took two hours took far less to get home. And the entire way back, Deanâs gaze kept flicking to you in the rear view mirror. You didnât look up once, and if you did, he didnât catch you doing so.Â
From what he could see, your hands were still shaking and tears were still silently falling from your eyes.Â
In all the years he had known you, he had never once seen you cry.Â
It wasnât an image he wanted to see again.Â
Seeing you cry pained him in a way he didnât know even existed within him.Â
By the time he pulled into the Bunker, he rounded the car and helped you out of it, lifting you once more.Â
Your breathing had calmed a little against his neck but your body was still trembling.Â
âYouâre safe, Sweetheart. Iâve got you.â
The next words out of Deanâs mouth felt like they were lightyears away. It was something to Sam, aboutâŚyou couldnât work out what.Â
And by the time you opened your eyes and looked up, Dean had sat you next to the double sink basin in one of the Bunker bathrooms.Â
âIâll be back in a minute, Sweetheart, stay there.â
And you did.Â
Less than thirty seconds later, Dean returned with fresh towels, a first aid kit from your room, a change of clothes and one of his hoodies.Â
He had removed his jackets so now he stood in front of you, a little blood-stained, in a black t-shirt, jeans and boots.Â
âIâm gonna clean you up, so this might sting a little. But I need you to stay awake, okay.â
You nodded again.Â
âWords, Sweetheart. I need to hear your voice.â
You swallowed thickly. âOkay.â
You didnât know how much time passed. Just that it had.Â
âJust count my breathing, Sweetheart.â Dean told you after a while.Â
Your breathing was becoming shallow, the longer it took for him to clean up your wounds. He didnât want you to fall into a panic attack.Â
âHere.â
Taking your hand in his, he pressed two of your fingers against his pulse on his neck. âJust follow along.â
âOkay.â
By the time he finished, a string of âsorryââs each time you hissed in pain - though it wasnât often, Dean turned on the shower.Â
âDoâŚdo you want me to help?âÂ
Any other time, Dean would be thinking less and less with his brain and more and more with another. Except, this was different.Â
He had never seen you scared. Ever.Â
Heâd seen you die. Twice. And each time come back fighting, stronger than ever.Â
But, sitting there. You looked like you were two seconds away from collapsing into a coma and waking up with a panic attack.Â
He didnât want to leave you.Â
And you didnât want to be alone.Â
âPlease.â
Dean nodded and for the following fifteen minutes, tried his best to give you as much privacy as he could despite the fact he was the one lifting the clothes from your body.Â
And it just occurred to him that he had never truly seen your skin before.Â
Not in a sexual way, or at least, he wasnât trying to think that way.Â
No, you were always covered up. You got dressed inside the bathroom after a shower. It was rare he saw you in something that wasnât a pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt. Even when he had seen you in a skirt or dress, it was always floor length or you wore tights.Â
But now he was seeingâŚyou.Â
From your back alone, there were at least a dozen small scars and half a dozen deep ones that had been stitched at some point or another.Â
New bruises were forming on your sides from where you had been fighting against The Vamp. And your legsâŚa couple of nicks from a razor or two, a couple of bruises mid thigh which he could only guess was from each time you seemed to catch the corner of a table when you walked in the library. And then one large rounding scar that was bleeding.Â
Thankfully, it looked like it would heal quickly. It was more of a scar that you would get from a dog. Red, sore for a day or two. But this time youâd have some scabs to go with it where your skin had opened.Â
Dean helped you tilt your head back under the water before he washed out the muck and blood with a double shampooing.Â
He had removed his boots and socks to step a little further inside the shower with you, the water dampening his jeans a little and the suds from your hair flicking onto his t-shirt every now and again.Â
But he couldnât care less.Â
His focus remained on you. You swayed on the spot every now and again, and Dean made sure he kept talking to you, giving you quiet directions on what to do and where to turn so he could wash the suds from your hair and body.Â
Once finished, he held out a towel for you which you stepped into and wrapped around your body as he leaned around you and stepped towards the shower to switch it off.Â
By the time he was back in front of you, you leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around you without a second thought.Â
âYouâre safe, Sweetheart. No-one can hurt you. Not here.â
Once more, Dean helped you get dressed, being sure to check over the cut on your leg. He helped pull the last of your hair from down your back as you squeezed what was left of the water into a towel.Â
Less than an hour later, Dean was showered and changed and brought a glass of water to your bedside. Except, as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head, you held onto his t-shirt.Â
âStay with me?â
It took him a second to realise you were asking him to stay.Â
You never asked anyone to stay.Â
He nodded. âJust give me a minute.â
You pulled the cover from under you and scooted down the bed a little, soon joined by Dean.Â
As he got in beside you, he pulled you closer to his side. And you both stayed like that for a while.Â
âI was so scared.â
Dean stilled for a moment before turning his head to face you. âYou donât have to talk about it if you donât want to.â
âI think I need to.â
He kissed the top of your head. âThen Iâll listen.â
âI didnât even see it coming. I just got rid of one of them before I felt someone pull me back. I thought it was Sam, at first. But then he threw me. When I hit the ground, I couldnât even tell where I was. And then they were above me. They must have hit me with my blade because all I felt was thisâŚsharp, cold air on my head. And it was making me dizzy. I didnât have time to get on my feet and by the time I opened my eyesâŚthey were there. They just kept telling me to beg for my life. And every time they did, it was seven years ago. I was on my own â just before Bobby called me and said he needed my help.â
Dean could remember that day. Bobby had been talking about some woman hunter he knew about that could maybe help the boys if needed.Â
The day he met you, Bobby walked them both through the kitchen and into the living room where you were walking around, running your fingers over a couple of book spines before pulling one out and leafing through it. Bobby called your name and you looked up, replacing the book and walking over, a side-arm attached to your hip, holding out your hand and shaking both his and Samâs.Â
âIt was a normal ghost hunt. Easy. But I didnât count on the ghost coming to defend their own grave. From what I knew, they should have been hunting for their next victim. Either way, I was thrown and I could feel their hand burning my skin, screaming for me to beg for my life. Bobby had asked about the make-up on my neck when he saw me a few weeks later. I said I was fine. And I was. But after todayâŚâÂ
You shook your head and Dean felt you wipe away your own tears.Â
Scooting down a little, Dean turned his body so you were no longer lying on his chest but instead curled into it.Â
Dean moved your hand from your face and replaced it with his own, and placed his own forehead against yours.Â
His thumb brushed just a little under your eye, catching the tears as they fell.Â
âIâm sorry you went through that on your own. Youâre allowed to be scared, but you should never be scared alone.â
âT-Thank you, for helping me.â
Dean shook his head. âYou never have to thank me for helping you. Even the best of us need help.â
You tried your best to stop them, but they flowed anyway.Â
âIâm so sorry,â
Deanâs heart broke.Â
Dean shook his head once more, holding you tighter against him and your own hands gripped at his t-shirt.Â
âYou have nothing to be sorry for.â
That night, Dean held you close to him, not once letting you go. And you fell asleep, crying in his arms.Â
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#fluff#sad fluff#dean winchester x fe!reader#spn family#spn#supernatural#dean supernatural#vampire#spn x reader#hunter!reader#bobby singer#sam winchester#dean x reader
135 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Chapter One
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b9c90e33b283241937c35ebedf9bcc6f/757d1188e43721b9-78/s500x750/716bb2cc9cdbd9f6ab6e62f885529904fe4a67f0.jpg)
When you make it to Lebanon you didn't expect to have neighbors, let alone for your neighbor to be the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on.
(Also before anyone worries Ben and Hayley = Charlie and Dean)
The silence that had fallen in the car would've been near deafening had it not been for the radio keeping you company. Miles flew by and despite knowing you should probably stop you also knew you only had a few more miles and you could make it to Lebanon, where Simon had already rented you a place. You could have a secure roof over the kids head and a form a plan for your next step.
You chanced a glance in the rear view mirror and nearly jumped out of your skin when Hayley met your gaze in the mirror. She grinned in the darkness of the backseat "The sun's coming up mom. You haven't gotten any sleep. Do you want me to drive a bit?" She hadn't long gotten her license and while she'd proven so far to be a safe driver given the circumstances you didn't want to chance it.Â
"I'll be ok. Once we hit Kansas we can grab some food. Simon said the house is already all set up so you can amuse Amelia and James while I catch a cat nap then we can explore Lebanon a bit and get a feel for what will be our home for the next year or so" she nodded and glanced from her left where James was fast asleep in his car seat to her right where Amelia was sleeping as well.Â
There was times you'd wake up and find her just sitting between the two of them as if she was keeping guard, even though you two slept with their beds between yours. It was like she was wanting to be the first line between her little siblings and danger. On one hand you were proud of her for helping with her like she did but on the other hand she was still just a teenager herself and christ everything she'd had dumped on her. The shit she'd seen and the secrets she carried, secrets to protect you.Â
"You can drive while we check out Lebanon and maybe we can even pick up some baking supplies for you" she brightened a bit at the prospect of baking and you felt your chest loosen just a bit. You hated this, you hated never staying in one place too long, never being able to trust anyone besides Simon and his wife Kiya. You hated your kids never knowing security. You hated that your sixteen year old knew what she knew and that your four year olds thought moving every few months was normal.
You let out a breath that was louder than you meant for it to be and felt Hayley bump your shoulder "Don't do that. You keep us moving to keep us safe. I get that. When they get old enough they'll get that too" you glanced in the mirror and gave her a greatful albeit tearful smile "You're a pretty decent kid, you know that?" She scrunched up her nose when she grinned before saying "Well lady you're the one who raised me"Â
You double checked the paperwork Simon had sent you yet again. "Hayley this is the right address isn't it?" You passed it over to her since she'd joined you in the front seat after the twins had woke up, all of you had stopped for breakfast then gotten back on the road. She looked down at the stack of papers then back up at the house that you were currently parked in the driveway of. "Yes ma'am but dang this is out our normal pay grade isn't it?"Â
You nodded slowly. The house wasn't anything extraordinary but it was nice, a one story Victorian and in a decent neighborhood. You shrugged "Lets check it out. Maybe they worked their magic and got it cheaper" she laughed "They're better than the Prue and Piper at this point"Â
-----------------
You turned the engine of the car off then climbed out. Hayley grabbed James out of his car seat and had him on her hip so you grabbed Amelia and motioned for her to follow you.Â
You followed the walkway up to the door while digging the key out of your pocket. Amelia pulled at your necklace, fiddling with the pendant and looking around at the squirrels chasing each other around the yard. Part of you expected the key to not work but when you slid it into the door it turned with no issue. You raised an eyebrow at Hayley then pushed the door in.
"Dad!" Ben's voice echoed through the house and Dean stifled a groan as he walked down the stairs "If you're telling me you finished the coffee again kid I swear.."Â
Ben was standing at the kitchen window with a coffee cup in hand "No sir. There's plenty left but someone moved in next door"Â Â
That was news to Dean. That was one of Bobby's places and normally he'd run it by Dean before renting it just to make sure the tenants would be a nuisance or anything. "I wonder why your grandpa didn't tell anybody. Think he's getting forgetful in his old age?" Dean asked Ben with a smirk as he went about making his coffee to his own taste before joining his son at the window.Â
"We're looking like a few nosy old hags you know that right?" He scoffed and Ben shrugged then pointed "Someone's coming out" Dean watched as a woman walked out the house. She was wearing jeans, a old Scooby-Doo tshirt and had a flannel tied around her waist like she'd been wearing it then gotten hot as she'd started moving around, a haphazard looking braid kept her hair out of her face but even exhausted looking he had to admit she was beautiful.Â
Ben cut his eyes up at Dean "She's hot right?" "Benjamin" Dean warned and got a laugh as an answer "I don't mean for my age! I mean for your age dad! Shes hot for you right?" "Don't you have graduation practice in a couple hours?" Dean asked and Ben nodded, still watching the window as the woman balanced an armload of dufflebags to carry into the house "We should introduce ourselves to the neighbors. Grandpa Bobby would smack us for being rude"
"You need to get ready and so do I. If she's outside we'll introduce ourselves but she's visibly busy, so we're not intruding, understood?" "Yes sir" Ben answered with a smirk that was a mirror of Dean's own expression.
You always joked you owed Simon and Kiya everything and it seemed as if they kept adding onto the list. Not only had they found you a nice place in a nice neighborhood at an extremely low price but it was furnished!Â
There was two twin beds, a queen bed and couch so everyone was covered. The working plan was to move the twin beds into the room with the queen beds and you could make a pallet on the floor so you could be in the room with the kids.Â
There was even a breakfast Nook with a small table and plates and cups that you had a feeling had come from Kiya. If you ever got out from under all this you owed them something huge.Â
-------------
You'd gotten all your clothing squared away and decided to go grocery shopping. You had Amelia on your hip and Hayley grabbed James. You'd just locked the door and was about to turn around when you heard Hayley say "Mom, um we got neighbors"
You turned around, one hand on your purse when you spotted two people walking towards you. One was a teenager, he was probably eighteen at best. Dark hair, barely there stubble and a bright smile.Â
The man that was close to your age was obviously his dad from looks alone and was unfairly good looking if you were being honest. Light brown hair and a thick stubble covering a sculpted jaw line that looked like the Greek gods themselves would be jealous over. He was a bit over six foot and when he got closer you realized he had green eyes that were a shade of damn near emerald.Â
You shifted Amelia a bit and spotted Hayley do the same to James out the corner of your eye. The man spoke first, clearing his throat "I don't want to intrude or anything ma'am but my son and I want to introduce ourselves since it seems we'll be neighbors" he offered his hand so you shook it with a small smile as he said "I'm Dean..Winchester and this is my son Ben" "Winchester, like the rifle?" You asked and he laughed "Yes ma'am. Like the rifle"Â
You cut your eyes at Hayley before saying "My names Y/N...Iverson" that was the last name Simon told you to use this time. "And this is my oldest Hayley and my twins James and Amelia" Dean smiled at each kid in turn "Nice to meet you all. Is it just you and the kids?" You nodded "Afraid so"Â
He smiled softly "Well it's just me and Ben so I understand, though three?" He let out a sharp whistle "You're stronger than me" he grinned then said "Well if you need anything we're right next door" you nodded "Nice meeting you"Â
He nodded to Hayley and Ben told you all it was nice meeting you before following his dad. Once they were out of ear shot Hayley cut her eyes at you and you shook your head "Do not" she cackled like a mad woman. She'd clocked you checking out Dean and while there was not a chance in hell you letting yourself even consider a man after the hell you'd been through it was nice to hear her laugh.Â
You shook your head "Lets go get food child" she grinned "Oh let's. Better get some water too" "Why water?" Amelia asked and you glared at Hayley playfully "So I can pour it over your sister's head. James laughed "I'll help"Â
#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x female!reader#tired of running masterlist#au dean winchester x reader#non hunter dean au
66 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Secrets Suck, Man
Sam Winchester x fem!reader
With Dean being heavily against the idea of dating while on the job, Sam and you figure out secret ways to be together without Dean knowing. Except, hereâs the thing, he already knows.
Angst, fluff, cute stuff with Sam. Takes place during Season 12.
Third Person Pov
"Sam, how many times do I need to tell ya that it's a bad idea. Hunters don't get a normal life and if they did, they ain't hunters no more." Dean lectured Sam who sat in the passenger seat of their 1967 Chevrolet Impala.
"Dean, all I'm saying is maybe it's not a bad idea to be with a hunter. At least you both understand the life and the risks." Sam pleated with Dean trying to get him to see his point of view on the situation.
"Dude, you really want to watch the person you love die because you were busy saving someone else?" Dean asks seriously.
"No, I wouldn't want that even if I wasn't a hunter, Dean. But at some point, I think it's okay as long as both parties understand the risk." Sam spoke with coming off harsher than before.
"Drop it, you know my thoughts on it Sam. It's not a good idea." Dean jabbed back as he turned up the radio to some 80's rock song.
"Fine." Sam sighed in defeat knowing that his plan to try to tell Dean that he already had a girlfriend and that person happened to be you.
Two hours later...
Sam and Dean made their way into the bunker where you were. Sam saw you and gave you a quick, but loving smile. While you waited on them to return, you read the same lore books hoping to find something new in them only to be disappointed again. You smiled back at him making sure that Dean didn't notice you looking at Sam. Speaking of Dean he said a quick hello and sat down on the chair in front of you kicking his muddy boots up on the table.
"Hey, I'm glad your back and everything Dean, but take your shoes off the table please." You asked him rolling your eyes.
"Whatever, did you find anything in the lore about Nephilim" He questioned doing what you asked.
"Same as before, I still only know what I've read for the millionth time and Cas's knowledge." you sighed rubbing your hand around your sore neck. This caught Sam's attention and he made a mental note to himself to help you out later.
"Don't worry we'll figure it out, we've just got to keep looking." Sam reassured putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Yeah, don't worry about it Y/n, we've delt with worse and won." Dean butted in.
"Yeah, I think the apocalypse and the darkness are a lot worse than this by far. I'd still rather deal with a nest of vamps than this though." You half joked.
"You and me both." Dean sighed getting up out of his seat and walking towards the hallway. "I'm gonna take a much-needed shower see you guys at dinner." Dean spoke walking away to the showers.
As soon as he was gone you rushed towards Sam and gave him a hug. Breathing him in and feeling his body against yours invited instant comfort and happiness to your stressed-out body and mind. And to Sam, he found the same comfort as his arms immediately wrapped around you as he placed his left check on the top of your head. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes allowing himself to be in the moment with you and forget all of the shit that is piled on them once again. He loved you and even having a little time alone was worth the world to him. After some time of just being there with him, your curiosity became too much and the elephant in the room needed to be addressed.
"Baby, what did Dean say?" You asked him raising your head while still holding Sam in your arms. He looked at you with a sad but loving gaze as you waited on his response.
"Same thing as before, he's against it." Sam sighed sadly. "But I don't care he can just deal with it. Secrets suck and I'm tired of keeping our feelings for one another away from Dean. I mean even Cass knows." Sam spoke trying to convince you.
"Yeah, I get that, I just really don't want an angry Dean top of the shit pile that we already have. I really want to tell him, don't get me wrong, I'm just scared to see how he'll react. Hell, I'd rather face Amara again than tell Dean, but I think it's important that we do." You pleaded with him trying to get him to see your point of view.
"Baby, if Dean gets mad that's on him. We are both adults and I think it'll be okay. I know your nervous, but trust me Dean at his core is a really big softie." He reassured rubbing your arms up and down.
"I still feel weird about it, but I think I'm just scared of his reaction, mostly." You whispered putting your forehead on the center of his chest.
"We don't need to tell him right now, we can wait as long as you need." Sam
âThank you Sammy, that means a lot.â You say smiling at his sweetness.
Just as you two were about to break your hugs out comes Dean wearing his grey robe with an annoyed expression on his face. You were nervous and could tell that had whenever was wrong was serious.
âDammit, If you two are gonna be together be fucking careful because this life ainât pretty for us. Iâll support it if you guys do that. I guess some of us should have something good in this shit show.â Dean quickly said before a leaking away. As he did he did a double take. âAnd you two need to get better at whispering because I could hear everything.â He said annoyed as he walked away.
You both stood there dumbfounded at what just happened. You looked at each other and laughed at the situation. Sam then leaned down and captured your lips into a soft and sweet kiss. He broke the kiss giving you another big smile as he chuckled.
âWell I guess the secrets out.â Sam joked
âYeah, and by what he said I guess heâs known for awhile now.â You say letting out a deep breath hugging Sam closer relieved that you donât need to hide out of fear.
âYeah, Iâm just glad that with all of the shit thatâs been happening that I still have you by my side. And no matter what Iâll be there for you.â He reassured
âAww Sammy me too, I love you. And Deanâs right we should be careful about all of this.â You told Sammy nearly sounding like Dean.
âYouâre right about that. And Deans right about another thing too. That itâs good that weâve found happiness in this shit show.â Sam smiled.
âYeah, we really did. I love you Sammy Winchester.â You proclaimed
âI love you too Y/n L/n.â Sam responded hugging you tighter.
Thank you so much for reading đ
Please feel free to comment, request, and reblog
Click here to see what Iâll write for and HERE for my master list.
â˘I do NOT own any characters except y/nâ˘
-L.W.L
#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#sam x reader#supernatural#supernatural fluff#supernatural angst#supernatural sam#supernatural sam winchester#supernatural sam winchester x reader#fluff#angst#Dean Winchester#Dean Winchester x reader#female reader#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fic#original fanfiction#sam winchester x plus size reader#sammy winchester#Sammy#Hunter#sam whinchester#supernatural sam whinchester x you#supernatural fandom#sam fanfiction#Dean angst
212 notes
¡
View notes
Text
(the winchester boys try to âsaveâ goth!reader from their perfect lover);*!
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3473c68f9c3b285506359f0e7cd754c8/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-fc/s540x810/59a48f41733ece55d95599c8bb5e9d65689e51b1.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/78e3d90e03f46c66481ec2ec2c045401/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-ee/s540x810/64d1aaf805a26210d446a6d4d54567121865893a.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/44cdaf8a28ab0a81a39e58f8a41c0467/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-f8/s540x810/746bd2002bb230da05d2af3a6c67beacacc4f9e8.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/230941399902e91ceeb467478acbdf91/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-8c/s540x810/e3d12052ca3e2e7dec23ec323ba138851beb0ccd.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/76b460744ee814c5660269ef004263bb/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-b1/s540x810/098ee98c0f2fce8c0572d6591e5b91267f57956c.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ec1ff4e0344d321bd828f88e22baeba9/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-f5/s540x810/8d56d0fbfafdce008bdfabdc16d136c3b2a227b5.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/908b19bf90d454340399fcda5a44ed3c/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-3b/s540x810/469372ad676b1abc8589e6f7f72b4f1f31d7201c.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/eff2eb5c87e8234c793d5b6e0257b440/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-19/s540x810/cf80b7cba1155cf72cad8239c5a04cbe7bd85a1a.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b69ee5b592e5bf15b54fd8a00d265d9a/7ec3c2bf11f986f8-b2/s540x810/1ddbf79fde3d354d78585d1d643ce4963de0b342.jpg)
(what the hell! stop trying to chop my boyfriends head off while he's professing his love!);*!
#supernatural#supernatural x reader#yippee I'm watching supernatural again#peter steele sucks but is good vamp bf representation#and Mick n his wife are so cute I just had to#platonic supernatural x reader#goth!reader#i was thinking more 90s mall goth but it didn't translate the best#so just goth#dean winchester#sam winchester#these are fun#moodboard#supernatural moodboard#vamp bf tryna kiss you and they assume he's going for the neck n just Strat swinging#start swinging I'm not rewriting that#ugh this with someone their super close to#like another hunter#goth hunter x vamp bf ugh need it#this is a lot of tags#my bad
68 notes
¡
View notes
Text
ď˝ď˝
ď˝ď˝
ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ ďźď˝
ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝
PART EIGHT OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader The Vampire Diaries x SupernaturalMini-Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence. Words: 3,351k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist <Previous Part | Next Part (Coming Soon) >
After three-quarters of an hour, the hairdryer was still running. Dean had been half-asleep when he registered the faint whirring sound from the bathroom and realised it had been going for far too long. He was still sitting hunched with his hands over his face, exactly as he had been when she left the room with a slam of a door; after he had spoken those dreaded words.Â
âHe didnât have a choice, I wouldâve died then tooâŚâ  Y/N had muttered when he had asked how this could happen. He remembered her tears as she spoke, they had made her eyes look like glass.
âWell, maybe he should have let youâŚâ Â
The words sent a chill through him; how could he have said that to her? But was he wrong? Would she not be better off?
His mind had briefly wandered back to the case â the ghouls, the bloodstains â but the moment stretched, and the realisation hit him. His pulse kicked up, sending a jolt through his body as his eyes snapped open.
Y/N was not in her bed. Y/N was not anywhere.
The grim image of her body upon the old wooden table, paired with the awful, rusty scent of her blood, made him flinch as if he had been struck.
He stood up fast, his heart lurching in his chest as his feet steadied on the cold and grimy motel floor. The room was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the damn hair dryer still buzzing in the air.
He got up and moved toward the bathroom without thought, like a man possessed. The door was shut, and a sliver of light spilled out from under the threshold, illuminating the dusk-darkened room.Â
He placed his hand on the doorknob and was met with no resistance; it was already unlocked. The hairdryerâs hum intensified through the now-open door as it oscillated on the edge of the sink.
But there was no sign of Y/N.
There was no beloved sister standing there, her back to him as she dried her hair in the mirror, as she had done a hundred times prior. He hesitated at the doorway, and then his heart stopped. The bathroom was empty.
Empty. She was missing, and in transition, how could he be so irresponsible? How could he let himself drift off? She was dangerous now; she could hurt someone. He counted the hours back in his head since he had last slept and was kicking himself with the realisation of just how long it had been; he had needed to be awake and alert for her, and he failed.
He moved quickly, tearing through the small space and flipping the shower curtain aside frantically â as if he did not already know she was not there. He stared at the moulded, derelict tile walls in dismay, noticing the scent of soap still lingering in the air.
His breath came faster. His brain was scrambling to catch up with what his eyes were telling him. He spotted her old, bloodied clothes sitting discarded on the porcelain of the toilet seat, they were the only possessions of hers that remained, the room was bare. A flash of movement at the edge of his vision made him snap his head up â the window. It was wide open.
âShit.' He muttered, noticing the high pitch of his panic.Â
He spun on his heels, stumbling back into the room. His gaze darted to the bed, and for a second, he convinced himself that maybeâŚ
No, she was not there; he knew this.
Her things were missing, her bed was made, and now he was left wondering how far away she had gotten. He flipped his phone open and dialled her number, his fingers moving nimbly as a reflex, yet still trembling horribly. He had called this number many times in the past few months, and like clockwork, each time, he would be met with her voicemail; tonight was no exception. He snapped the phone shut and threw it to her bed.
Deanâs stomach clenched and he leaned over placing his hands in his knees. No. No. He wasnât going to let her go down this road. Not after everything they had been through. But what could he do? It was already too late for her.Â
âSam!â His voice was sharp, frantic, the kind of desperation that hit with the force of a freight train.
Sam had been standing behind him, getting up to follow Dean in his alarm, his face already clouded with worry before the scene of the bathroom had even registered before him.
âSheâs gone,â Dean snapped, pacing the small room, his mind running in a hundred directions at once. âSheâsââ He cut himself off, eyes locking on the open window through the door. âSheâs gone, Sam. Sheââ
Sam was already moving toward the door, his face drawn, filled with a dread that was becoming all too familiar. âSurely, she canât be far. We need to find herâŚâ
Dean shook his head, his frustration boiling over. That is not what he meant. He did not mean she was missing, he meant that she was gone. âWhat the hell, Sam? Sheâs not some lost puppy weâre gonna find wandering down the road! Sheâs a damn vampire, and sheâŚâ
He had already begun to mourn her; she had died in their arms. He had stared at her decrepit corpse for hours, refusing to accept the actuality before him. He remembered the way he had pleaded for it not to be true. Now, she walked again, but it was not the same; it could never be the same as it was. It seemed like a sick, twisted joke.
âDean, we donât know that. She might not have done that yetââ Sam interrupted him, avoiding the specifics, not only to placate Dean but because he could not stomach the idea himself; he did not want to see her that way, he did not want the image in his mind.Â
His voice was softer but firm, pulling his brotherâs focus back. He continued,
âSheâs our sister, Dean. We donât know what sheâs doing. She could be in danger.â Sam shuddered,
She was not in danger herself now, but the one who is dangerous; Y/N was the threat now, and the notion made him sick. Â
âNo, you donât get it,â Deanâs voice dropped low, dark. âSheâs gone, Sam. We both know it.â His eyes burned with a venomous anger; his hands balled into fists at his sides. As his bitter words flowed, he believed them more and more. He knew if they went looking for her, she would never be found. She does not exist on this plane anymore; the girl he loved, his sister, was lost perpetually.Â
âSheâs lost to us. Sheâs a damn monster now, and it doesnât matter what we say, or how many times we look at her like sheâs still the girl we raised, the sister we loved. Thatâs not her anymore.â
âSheâs dead⌠She died â in our arms last night,â Dean choked on his words as he desperately tried for air, why was it so hard to breathe? Why was the room spinning?Â
âIt was my fault, I should have died⌠Not her.â The words were barely spoken, coming out in a gasp, Sam could barely make them out, needing to follow the movement of his brotherâs lips.Â
âThat girl we saw today, thatâs not her, it canât be; she was a fake.â Dean shook with vexation once more, with Y/N, with himself, Sam was not sure.
He froze, his heart skipping. He had not seen Dean this angry in a long time â swallowed whole by rage. Samâs shoulders began to quake with his own agony; he registered a distant and inhuman cry, he did not have enough time to wonder where it was coming from before he realised they were his own sobs. Why did they sound so far away? Why was he so disconnected from his own body?
âDeanâŚâ His voice faltered as he looked at his brother. It was not just anger that shook him. It was grief. Grief, mingled with guilt and a twisted, violent kind of regret. The kind that made you do things you would have never thought of in a hundred years.
Dean shook his head; the words tumbling out in a dangerous rush.Â
âIâm not going to save her, Sam. Iâm not going to pretend sheâs still the person we knew. â He turned sharply, pacing to the door. How had he found this resolve so suddenly? Had he not yearned to find her only moments earlier? Dean struggled to recall when she had become the stranger he pictured now, the monster. She had not looked like a monster when she awoke from her death, when they had realised what must have happened.Â
âShe died last night, killed by those god-awful ghouls. Sheâs not the same. And if we donât do something about it, people are going to get hurt. Itâs time we finish this. Her case. And the supernatural problem that ruined her life. Our lives.â
Sam stepped toward him, with words already on his tongue. Surely, he could not mean that. He could not possibly be suggesting they hunt their own sister. But Dean was already halfway out the door.
âYouâre notââ thinking straight,  Sam wanted to say, but Dean was already gone.
With a moment of hesitation and a breath of bitter air, Sam followed him out.
Dean's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles tense and pale, as he drove toward the town. That awful, revolting, loathsome town. The anger â his blinding anger â throbbed through him, it thudded in his ears and pulsed within his veins. He could feel it in his gut, a gnawing beast that told him he had to finish what she had started. He had to rid the world of whatever vile supernatural force had taken his sister away from him. And if that meant tearing Mystic Falls apart, so be it. If that meant killing the vampire who had turned her... then that is what he was going to do.
Damon Salvatore.
The name felt like bile in his throat and burned like acid. The more he thought about âitâ, that repulsive creature, the tighter his grip on the wheel became. He knew the bastard had to die. If not for him, Y/N would not have become the thing she was now; the abomination. She would not have disappeared into the night. She would not have lost herself andhe would not have lost her. It was Damon who was to blame. Damon was the cause of all this.
He had no sympathy. No understanding. Not when it came to hurting her.
And hurt her he had.
Deep down, hidden beneath layers of wrath and chagrin, Dean knew why he was acting this way. He knew that if Y/N had truly died, he would be doing absolutely everything in his power to bring her back, and he would not have rested until he was successful. He would have done anything. But now, he could never bring her back â save her from this fate. If that abhorrent vampire had left her alone, she would be salvageable, even if it meant Dean needed to die in her place.Â
Deanâs jaw tightened, his gaze hardening with each passing mile. He barely registered Samâs quiet words beside him. âDean, stop. We have to think of this rationally ââ
âIâm not stopping, Sam,â Dean cut him off sharply, his voice low, strained and cold.Â
âWeâre going to Mystic Falls. And weâre finishing it.â His eyes flickered to Sam briefly, and for a moment, the weight of what he was saying hung in the air as tears filled his eyes. âIâm done, Sam. Iâm doneâ â
Sam watched him quietly, trying to gauge if there was any part of the man he used to know in the eyes staring out the windshield, his brother. But it was hard to tell, the burning in his eyes showed a stranger. Dean was consumed â swallowed whole by something darker than grief. He was already lost, and Sam feared there would be no bringing him back.
âListen to me for a second, would you?â Sam's voice was heated, raised for the first time all evening. âShe had vampire blood in her system, did you ever stop and think about what that means?â Dean began to speak, but Sam raised his hand, silencing him with a scalding look that Dean saw in the corner of his vision.Â
âShe said she would have died anyway, their blood heals people, thatâŚÂ vampire ââ The word made him cringe, âobviously, saved her life.âÂ
Though, Sam did not understand; it did not make sense. Why would he save her? A hunter. Why was she with him in the first place? How could she bear being near him? Knowing what he is. But it did not matter, it did not change what he already knew.
Dean started again, but Sam cut him off.
âShe died on the ghoul case⌠with us, we killed her, we did it â not him.âÂ
Sam gazed out through the windshield as tears clouded his vision, streetlights turned to indistinguishable dots of light as they loomed closer. This realisation stung and cut his throat like small blades as he expelled ragged breaths. But he continued away,
âBut sheâs still here, Dean. Sheâs not gone â not yet, anyway,â He gasped out, âShe holds the same memories, the same personality, itâs her. And if we can get to her, we can help her.â
âDean, we donât even know if she is in Mystic Falls, what if weâre leaving her behind?â
But his words fell on deaf ears; Dean stared forward as if he had said nothing at all, and Sam slumped back in his seat, defeated. Staring numbly at the dark silhouettes of trees as they flew past them.Â
Y/N stood in front of the grand fireplace in the Salvatore boarding house, the warmth of the crackling fire barely reaching the chill that had settled deep within her. The flames danced in hypnotic patterns, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, against her skin â yet all she could see before her were the faces of her brothers.
She let her fingers graze the mantle, her eyes tracing the cracks in the stone as if they might conceal the answers to the questions she could not bring herself to mutter. She could still hear Deanâs voice, sharp and angry, his words slicing through the distance between them like a blade.Â
Well, maybe he should have let youâŚ
His words had cut off, he knew he had gone too far, but she knew it was what he truly believed. He had thought she was better off dead. He would rather she was not here.Â
She pondered that reality for a moment. Suppose she had died the night of the founderâs ball. Maybe it might have been easier. Maybe she would not have needed to feel all this grief for her brothers. But then she thought of Damon, and she realised, halfway content, that she was glad that did not happen, at least for him. She remembered the way he had cried over her, pleading with her to drink his blood. At least she was certain of this much; she could not leave Damon, she could not bear to hurt him. How could that dreaded night already seem a lifetime ago? It was only the night before the last.Â
She had believed, once, for a very brief moment in time, that this affliction might only be temporaryâthat there was still some thread of humanity she could cling to. That her brothers would save her. Bearing witness to years of their escapades had her believing there was nothing that they could not do. And this was just another problem, another puzzle to be solved; but she knew that was selfish â to expect so much from them.Â
But that did not matter now, and she had never truly believed it and the reality of what she had become quelled that fragile hope regardless. This was her reality now: vampires do not age; they never change. They did not get to go back to the lives they had before.
And she was no exception.Â
She could almost feel their rejection, the weight of their disappointment hanging in the air, suffocating her with every harsh breath. Deans anger had been cold, unforgiving. It was the kind of rage that came with the loss of something precious. And Sam, sweet Samâhis conflicted, sorrowful gaze had been the worst of all. She could almost hear his voice, trembling with the desperate hope that maybe he could fix her. But she knew better now.
She was beyond saving. She had not even wanted to save herself, she had been wholly ready to die, to let Damonâs blood dwindle from her system, till her death caught up with her once more.Â
A familiar ache of longing twisted in her chest as she thought of them. The brothers who had raised her, fought for her, loved her in ways that no one else ever had. The brothers who were now lost to her forever. How could she go back to them now, knowing the truth of what she was? How could she let them see her like this? They would hate me, she thought. They already do.
She imagined the look on Deanâs face as he looked at herâdisgust. His words were harsher than the coldest winter she had known, biting at her soul. He would see the vampire she had become and reject the parts of his little sister that remained.Â
Nothing, she thought. He would see nothing left of me.
And yet, she would miss them more than anything. She would miss the way Dean always teased her, even when he was angry. She would miss Samâs soft smiles, the way he would always try to protect her, even when she did not need it. She would miss being familyâthe thing that had once meant everything to her. It had all slipped away, and in its place was this hollow, aching void.
But she knew deep down, past her surfaced dejections, there was no void. Her love for Damon had settled into every crevice of her being, and with all her regret came a guilty, unexpected sense of relief; she was glad she had forever, an eternity to love him. He was her family now, and she could not find it within herself to regret this.
Behind her was the sound of soft footsteps. The familiar, grounding presence of Damon. She did not need to turn around to know it was him; she had grown so used to the weight of his presence, the subtle way he filled the silence between them. When had this happened? It all felt so quick.
He did not speak. Instead, she felt his warmth press against her back, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her against him. His head found its way into the space between her shoulder and neck, and she instinctively leaned into him, the comfort of his touch a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of her loss.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting herself absorb the silence, the feeling of being held. But the ache inside her did not fade. It only deepened. Her brothers were goneâthe life she knew was goneâand all she had left was the man who had turned her into this being.
And she could not even bring herself to regret it. She loved Damon; she loved the way he made her feel, even when it terrified her.
She stood there, motionless, with Damonâs arms around her, staring ahead at nothing. She mourned the girl she had been, but when she thought of what she had gainedâwhen she felt the weight of Damonâs arms around herâshe knew she would not trade any of it.
TAG LIST:
@venomsvl, @serenity-fujakante, @tonystarkwifey, @lively-potter, @deanwanddamons, @wildernessflora, @fluffycoconut
#damon salvatore#supernatural#the vampire diaries#x reader#damon salvatore x reader#dean winchester#sam winchester#tvdu#mystic falls#vampire#winchester sister#the winchester brothers#tvd universe#hunter reader#hunter#hunting#salvatore#spn#monster
30 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sympathy for the Devil - Series Masterlist
Lucifer x F!Hunter Reader
SPN x Hazbin Hotel Crossover
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e43d684f4a3b8c926ff28f21179972dd/1d556a9ec69c3725-31/s540x810/80453534969c5d8d0b6fc26834285753bc57e29b.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3e97ccd59e49334de38012e48a25ada5/1d556a9ec69c3725-b6/s500x750/4240bc27539c02168df48aeb5bb67874b61a1820.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8c563ca64b1c55cf91ffb6f3dab71733/1d556a9ec69c3725-9c/s540x810/ff6e7b1f50cc23af4e731a5fa9b56b8e6ed9fe54.jpg)
You have been hunting alongside the Winchester brothers for a while, your life consumed by the hunt. But for the past few months, you have been tormented by vivid, unsettling visions. As you start to uncover the truth behind these haunting vision, youâre driven to find the mysterious woman from them. But what will happen when you cross paths with a certain fallen angel who has taken an interest in you?
đťPhew, rewatching Supernatural and I decided why not write a crossover between my two favorite shows? Target audience: Me LOL No but really I hope you guys enjoy this dumb idea I came up with like twenty minutes ago⌠my goal is that I finish the first chapter by tonight or early tomorrow ŮŠ( 'Ď' )Ů
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
More to ComeâŚ
#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer magne#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#x reader#hazbin hotel#helluvaverse#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#fanfic#fandom#reader insert#fem reader#supernatural fanfic series#monster hunter#supernatural hunters
18 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader
Description: A dangerous spirit is bound to an old family portrait that brings misfortune and death to anyone who buys it.
Warnings: Cannon violence and gore. flirting if you can call it that
Word Count: 10,688
Provenance
(Master list, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)
Music thrums through the dimly lit bar, mingling with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses, drawing a crowd that fills nearly every corner.
I managed to escape from Sam and his research onto the safety of the dance floor two songs ago. And while I wasnât always privy to dancing, itâs hard to ignore a live band.
So, I let the bassline sink into my bones, guiding my steps as I start to move. My hips sway in time with the sultry beat, each sway slow and deliberate. My arms lift, hands tracing soft arcs above me as I lose myself in the music. Then, fingertips brush my waist, and if they didnât feel so familiar, Iâd pull away. But, I know these hands, I know each callous as I feel them through my dress. ââYou come to dance?â I ask, turning in his hold to face him. He wears that charming smile, eyes dropped to my hips that still move with the music. âNo, uhâŚâ his eyes move back to my face. A smile stretches itself onto my lips as I tilt my head to indicate Iâm listening even if Iâm dancing. âUh,â he turns his head away, âSam was tryinâ to wave us down, but you were, umâŚ.â his eyes meet mine, âdistracted.â
âLittle disappointed that wasnât a âyes,ââ I tease, although I know he isnât the type to dance. I slide my hand over his where it rests on my waist, gently pulling it away and taking it in mine. âToo bad Sam needs us, huh?â I say, starting to walk backward and leading him with me. âYeah,â he sighs, âToo bad.â Something mellows in his eyes then, something I canât quite grasp before I turn around and guide him back to our table.Â
The moment we reach Sam I collapse onto the little stool with a bright smile and a satisfied huff, taking my abandoned half-drunken soda into my hands. âAlright, I think we got something,â Sam announces, looking between us.
âHit it!â I point at him.
âOh yeah, me too,â Dean answers, glancing back at the bar to a girl I forgot he was talking to.
âOr notâŚâ I mumble as he continues. âI think we need to take a little shore leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh?â he asks, looking back at us, âIâm so in the door with this one.â
âSo, what are we today, Dean?â Sam mocks. âI mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?â
I avert my eyes to the newspapers strewn about the table, pretending like I do not hear their conversation. âReality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills,â Dean answers, and I can hear the grin on his face, âI mean, hey, itâs not that far off right?â
âYou are being particularly icky with this one,â I comment, looking at him now as I bite on the thin black straw in my drink.
âSheâs right,â Sam adds.Â
âYeah, well itâs working,â Dean counters, âBy the way, sheâs got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?â
âDean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,â Sam answers.
âYeah, you can but you donât,â he argues. I hit his arm, throwing him a look. He shouldnât be pushing his brother like this. He canât possibly expect Sam to be ready to move on when his girlfriend died only a couple of months ago, let alone not feel guilty for moving on. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â Sam bites back. But, I give Dean a âdonâtâ look, they donât need another thing to fight over. âNothing,â he answers, taking my warning, âWhat you got?â
âMark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, allâŚâ Sam trails off, his findings coming to an abrupt end. âDean!â he yells, gaining back the attention of his brother, ââŚ.No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside.â
âCould just be a garden variety murder you know, not our department,â Dean rationalizes, taking a sip of his beer.
âSays the guy who wasnât paying attention,â I mumble.
âHey!â he grumbles.
âWhat? Itâs true!â
âAnyway,â Sam interjects, âDad says differently.â
âWhat do you mean?â Dean asks, suddenly more interested.Â
âDad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second one right here in 1945, and the third in 1970, the same M.O. as the Telescas. Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside. Now so much time had passed between murders that nobody checked the pattern, except Dad. He kept his eyes peeled for another one.â
I have to give John credit, he seemed to have a hunch for these sorts of things and was persistent enough to keep up on it. Itâs admirable at the very least. âAlright, Iâm with ya,â Dean replies, âItâs worth checking out. We canât pick this up til first thing though, right?â
I roll my eyes, though, of course, I'm not surprised. Not only does he not trust the legitimacy of a case until it has the John Winchester seal of approval rather than just trusting his brother, but of course, heâs immediately trying to go back to his potential hook-up. âYeah,â Sam sighs.Â
âGood,â Dean grins, immediately going back to the bar. I donât know whether to be disgusted or jealous. âAnywho,â I start, âIâm gonna go back to the dance floor, wanna join me?â
âNo, you go,â Sam insists.
âOkay, well if you change your mind you know where to find me. Or, if you just need anything,â I offer.Â
Sam and I check out the Telesca's house while Dean reaps the consequences of a hangover. Either way, the house was a bust. Thereâs no sign of anything supernatural, in fact, thereâs no sign of anything.
We approach the Impala and in it, a sleeping Dean occupies the passenger seat. He sleeps slouched with sunglasses on, I suppose to combat the sun for when he does decide to wake up and join us. Sam walks around the car sporting a mischievous smile as he leans into the open window and honks the horn. Dean jumps awake, his sunglasses slipping down his face. I scuff, laughing a little as I get into the backseat. To be fair, it is a little funny. And Sam, who finds it infinitely more funny than I do, laughs loudly as he takes the driver's seat. âMan, that is so not cool,â Dean grumbles, adjusting his sunglasses clumsily.
âWe swept the Telescas with the EMF. Itâs clean,â Sam informs, âAnd last night, while you wereâŚwellâŚout.â
âGood times,â Dean smirks, a satisfied look on his face. I cringe even though something sharp stabs my heart.Â
âI checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas,â Sam elaborates.Â
âAlright, so if itâs not the people and itâs not the house, then maybe itâs the contents. Cursed object or something,â Dean deduces.
âYeah, funny story,â I start, âThereâs literally nothing in that house.Â
âYeah, you said that,â he counters.Â
âNo, like literally empty,â I clarify, âLike empty empty, like more than just crime scene cleaners.â
âNo furniture, nothing,â Sam explains.Â
âWhich could mean itâs either in storage somewhere, given to familyâŚâÂ
ââŚOr at an auction,â Sam adds, finishing my sentence.Â
****
Beautiful classical music plays in the auction house, where nearly every surface is covered in trinkets or furniture. Nicely dressed people flutter around in their expensive suits and dresses, holding champagne flutes as they chat.Â
To say we stick out is an understatement. We arenât dressed nearly as nice as we should be for a place like this. I mean, they have violin players here. I feel incredibly awkward as we walk around, itâs like everyoneâs staringâŚ. They might actually be staring. Maybe we shouldâve gotten more entail for a place like this before coming in because it is a horrible day to be wearing shorts.Â
The class difference feels apparent not only just clothing but in manners. Their prideful eyes flip onto us, seeping in as if they can read us. They can sniff out our class the same way we can see theirs. And itâs no help that Dean keeps stopping for the finger food, shoving it into his mouth without care. âConsignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,â Dean comments.
âTheyâre usually nicer than this,â I respond, looking around, âI mean in terms of people and environment ...not that this environment isnât nice but itâsâŚâ
âDisturbing?â Dean answers, popping another piece of food in his mouth.Â
âI was going to say pretentious but that works too,â I nod. Thrift stores and estate sales were usually nice experiences but a place like this is more about boasting through showing your wealth than enjoying your search for items to complete your home or yourself. In other words, itâs a great way to remind you of your class and just how much you donât fit in.Â
âCan I help you?â a voice suddenly asks. An older man with grey hair and blue eyes stares at us. Dean looks him up and down before shoving more food in his mouth, âIâd like some champagne, please,â he says putting on his best posh voice.Â
âNo, baby, heâs not a waiter,â I cut in, putting a hand on Deanâs upper arm.Â
Sam holds out his hand, âIâm Sam Conners,â he greets. But, his introduction is not met with the same friendliness. The man just looks at him, not moving. Sam gives a sharp nod, retracting his hand, âThatâs my brother Dean and my sister-in-law Y/N. âWeâre art dealers, with Connors Limited.âÂ
âYou areâŚ.â the man searches for the word as he looks at us with skepticism. âArt dealers.â
âThatâs right,â Sam confirms.Â
âIâm Daniel Blake,â he finally introduces himself, âThis is my auction house. Now gentlemen and madam this is a private showing, and I donât remember seeing you on the guest list.â
âWeâre there chuckles, you just need to take another look,â Dean answers, unamused, as he grabs a drink off a passing waiter. âFinally,â he mumbles, bringing it up to his lips.
âWhat I think my husband means to say,â I intervene quickly, the word sounding strange on my tongue. Itâs a title seeped in ironyâone I long for even though he spent last night with someone else. And yet, here I am, calling him my husband, craving a title thatâs only pretend. âNames are such funny things. They justâŚ.slip on by. If you should like, I have no problem looking at the guest list with you so we can get this all cleared up.â
He raises his chin high, seeming to consider my offer. âVery well,â he answers, âCome along.â He turns around, stiff in his movements. I move away from Dean, my hand slipping off his arm as I throw back a wide-eyed glance. I follow after the man, moving further and further away from the boys. He goes to a security guy and asks him to go fetch the book because apparently, he canât do it himself. âI donât mean to come off as intruding but I didnât see a ring on your finger,â he says.
He didnât believe Samâs lie. Heâs testing me to determine our legitimacy. I put on my best smile, âYou must have glossed over it,â I reason. I hold up my left hand, displaying a matching wedding band and an engagement ring. Both are aged silver bands, the engagement ring having a simple diamond at its center. Itâs all I could come up with on short noticeâquite literally in the seconds it took me to answer and raise my hand. âCharming,â he comments, lacking conviction. I put my hand back down, keeping the rings there even as my smile falters.
Finally, the rather thick book reaches the hands of Mr. Blake who simply wastes no time in cracking it open. He flips through the pages until he finds the names under âC,â his finger skimming down the page. His face drops. He clears his throat. âYes, there you are,â he declares, placing the book in a way I can see. His pointer finger is just below our names, newly placed by yours truly. âI apologize for the disruption,â he says, closing the book with a thump.Â
âOh, thatâs okay. With all those names itâs easy to miss,â I reply. I almost feel bad for deceiving him, he must feel crazy. But, we do need to figure out what killed the Telesca's and everyone before them so it is necessary. âNow, if youâll excuse me Iâm going to go back to my boys,â I say with a nod, wanting nothing more to get away from this manâŚ.no offense to him.Â
I feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walk back to the Winchesters like he still suspects us and is just waiting for a slip. So, without a second thought, I move closer to Dean, slipping my hand beneath his blue jacket and resting it on his back. He doesnât question it; his eyes flicker to mine, but he just pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. The warmth of him sends butterflies crashing into my stomach, and my pulse quickens until I can barely focus on anything but the solid warmth of his touch. My heart pounds so wildly that I have to force my gaze forward.
Thatâs when I notice the dark-haired woman standing in front of them. Her hair is pulled back with two curled strands framing either side of her face, highlighting her sharp, thin eyebrows and kind grey eyes that are fixed intently on Sam. She wears a black dress with a bit of a plunging neckline, accented by a sparkling brooch at its center. âBut, Dadâs right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds,â she says, adding to whatever conversation was at hand, âEven the rich ones.âÂ
âIs it possible to see the provenances?â Sam asks.
âIâm afraid there isnât any chance of that,â Mr. Blake says, his voice suddenly appearing from behind us. What could he have possibly found? âWhy not?â Sam asks.
âI fear we have guests complaining about yourâŚ.â he looks us up and down. âAppearance. We do have a very strict dress code.â A sigh escapes my lips, no way this constitutes us being kicked out. So much for creating a whole illusion.
âWell, we donât have to be told twice,â Dean responds putting on his horrible posh voice again. Heâs probably done with this scene.
âApparently you do,â Mr.Blake retorts cooly.
âOkay. Itâs alright,â Sam intervenes. âWe donât want any trouble. Weâll go.âÂ
The dayâs light filters in through the entryway as we step out. Itâs hard to tell if guests were complaining about us or if he truly just wanted us to go. Either way, he got us to leave. We pause just a few steps away from the doorway, Sam already moving far ahead of us.Â
The sun catches Deanâs eyes as he turns to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips, âI guess Iâm your husband now,â he says, his voice low. My heart stutters behind my ribcage and it takes all my willpower to keep my eyes on his and not let them dip to his mouth. âThat you are,â I answer, an easy smile on my face.
âMaybe I should get you a ring,â he teases.
âApparently, you have,â I hold up my left hand for him, the rings still there. He reaches for my hand, thumb brushing over the bands, his eyes lingering on the diamond. The gentle pressure sends a rush of warmth through me, and my stomach does about ten flips consecutively. He looks at me through his lashes, that smirk only deepening, âYou bad girl.â
I gasp, taking my hand from his to hit his chest. âI didnât steal them!â I insist, but he just catches my hand again, bringing his thumb back to the rings.Â
âHave to admit,â he murmurs, eyes sparkling as he meets mine, âI have good taste. Couldâve added a few more diamonds, though.â He says it so casually, with such cockiness, and it just fuels a quiet, barren dream that I now want more than anything. âWell,â I reply, feigning nonchalance. âYou can keep that in mind for the next time we get married.â
I slip from his hold with a teasing smile, and he lets me go. I let the rings disappear from my finger, leaving the same way they came. At least I have control over them leaving. It hurts to give myself hope, and I donât know why I do it. I fix my faltering smile before I spin around, walking backward as I speak to him. He hasn't moved from where we stood, something written on his face. âI really didnât steal them. They arenât real.âÂ
****
âWere you really flirting with that girl?â I ask Sam, a proud smile on my face. He rolls his eyes, no doubt knowing where I got my information from. âI wasnât flirting. We were just talking art,â he defends.
I laugh, âI think that might count as flirting. At least in your book.â I donât mean to tease him too harshly over this, after all, Iâm proud of him. Maybe that sounds weird but just like Dean I want him to be happy, and itâs good if heâs trying to move on after Jessica. âGrant Wood, Grandma Moses?â Dean mocks, âWhereâd that come from?â he asks as we approach their room, bags in hand. Iâll go to my room later, as for now, itâs easier to stick with them.
âArt history course,â he answers simply, âItâs good for meeting girls.â
I laugh again, nudging his arm with my own, âLook at you go.â
He scuffs despite the smile on his face. Dean puts the key in the lock, turning it as he says, âItâs like I donât even know you.â
He pushes the door open to reveal a complete disco-themed room. The walk-in is lined with black and white diamond wallpaper, and a metal divider made of circles separates the walk-in from the sitting area. Very â70s. Meanwhile, the sitting area has granite-like floors and completely black walls that contrast with the two white seats that face a long dresser-like table where speakers and lamps rest, and right above it an abstract painting sits. More of the same dividers separate the sitting area from the back where the two queen beds reside, the diamond wallpaper makes its reappearance there as well as the red carpet.Â
âHuh,â the boys hum at the same time.
ââHuhâ might be an understatement,â I mumble, following after them into the themed room. I feel like we should be in Vegas with a room like this, that feels more appropriate. But, at least itâs funâŚ? They move deeper into their room, dumping their bags on their respective beds while I leave mine by the door. âWhat wasâŚprovidence?â Dean asks.
âProv-e-nance,â Sam corrects, âItâs a certificate of origin, like a biography. You know we can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if any of them have a freaky past.â
âSee, your art history class isnât just helpful with getting girls,â I say, taking a seat on one of the white seats. Apparently, they found a painting that belonged to the Telesca's. The painting was a family portrait with two young boys in suits on the left and a young girl in a frilly dress holding a doll with matching clothes on the right. And, at the center a woman, likely the mother, sits wearing a dress with similar frills and ribbons as her daughter, a balding man with a serious face standing behind her.
âSpeaking of girlsâŚâ Dean snaps his fingers at his brother, smirking.
âYeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,â Sam responds, smirking right back.
âNot me,â Dean laughs.
Samâs face drops, âNo no no, pick-ups are your thing, Dean.â
âIt wasnât my ass she was checking out,â Dean remarks, giving him a look.
âSam, she couldnât take her eyes off of you,â I add, âAnd I wasnât even there for half the conversation.â
âIn other words, you want me to use her to get information,â he responds.
âSometimes you gotta take one for the team,â Dean reasons. âCall her.â Iâm tempted to correct him and put it in kinder words. But, I stop myself as I realize that if we frame it as a proper date, he might back down. He might not feel ready to move on or feel too guilty about it and, frankly, no one could blame him.
****
A Re-run of Scooby-Doo plays on the large TV in front of us, the take-out we ate a while ago sitting in the trash can now as we lounge on his bed. Our backs lean on the cushioned headboards, the crisp motel blanket covering both of us as we sit side by side, close enough for our thighs to touch. He chuckles at some silly joke Scooby made, the sweet sound warming my heart.
Iâm glad we decided to hang around if only to see him this content. I like the familiarity of thisâof him. I wish we could have endless moments like this. If only we could live in a gap between time where all is well. Iâd like that. I think heâd like that too. Time seems to melt together here where responsibility is put on hold to justâŚbreathe. I hope Sam is having a good time on his date, thatâd just make this whole day as perfect as it can get.
Iâm pulled out of my thoughts as a plastic spoon comes crashing into my personal space, landing right in my (flavor) ice cream. âHey!â I exclaim, laughter immediately bubbling from my lips, âYou have your own ice cream.â He gathers a big spoonful and I donât stop him or pull the container away. âSo?â he shrugs, putting it into his mouth as he puts his arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer to his side. With a hand on his chest, I pull away enough to look up at him, âYouâre ridiculous,â I say though my voice lacks conviction. His eyes meet mine, his head tilted down slightly, âYeahhh,â he smirks, âBut you love me.â He says it confidently as if he knows it's true even though he means it in a teasing way.
Then his eyes dip down and I canât quite find the right words because the right words are âI doâ and I canât afford the truth. Not nowâŚ.maybe not ever. This hunting trip has been a blessing and a curse. I get to spend more time with him than we probably ever had, and yet to be this close hurts. Itâs as if heâs the sun and to even get in his gravity field would burn me right up. Though, maybe being like Icarus would be worth it. âYouâre lucky I do,â I tease.
The click of the door tears my eyes away from him. âSam!â I say excitedly as he comes into the motel room. âHow was your date?â I ask.
âIt wasâŚâ he searches for the words as he removes his blazer, âGood. I got the provenances.â
âGreat!â I leap from the bed, leaving the rest of my ice cream on the nightstand, âI want to hear every single detail,â I take a couple of the manilla folders from him.Â
âThereâs really not any details to share,â he answers with a tight-lipped smile.
I give him a pointed look, âReally?â
âYeah, really.â
âThatâs not gonna work on me,â I say, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the living room area.Â
âFine,â he gives in, throwing his blazer over the back of the other chair before taking a seat, âThe restaurant was fancy.â I practically hang onto each word, waiting for more to come. âAnd?â I ask, beaming.
âAnd the food was good.â
I groan, laying my head against the chair, âDude, these are hardly details!â I twist in the seat to look back at his brother, âDean, help me out here.â He looks up from the ice cream container in his hand, âThis is all you, sweetheart,â he answers, shoving more ice cream in his mouth. Wait. My ice cream in his mouth. I roll my eyes, turning back around, âYou guys are being such guys right now.â
A sheepish smile rests on Samâs face, his eyes already on an open file. âFine!â I give up, throwing my hands up, âKeep your date a secret!â I shake my head as I pick up a file of my own.Â
I get to reading as the room falls into silence thatâs only broken up by the sound of turning pages. âSo, she just handed the providences over to you,â Dean starts.
âProvenances,â his brother corrects.
âProvenances,â Dean repeats with a bitter tone.Â
âYes. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papersâŚâ
âAnd?â Dean asks, using the very word I had used. I look up from my papers, expecting to hear more information than he was willing to give me. âAnd nothing. Thatâs it. I left,â Sam answers.
âYou didnât have to con her or do anyâŚspecial favorsââÂ
âEww,â I laugh, âWhyâd you have to say it like that?âÂ
âDean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?âÂ
âHey, her head is in the gutter too,â he says and I can practically feel him pointing at me. I turn in my seat again, âI didnât say anything!â I defend.
âYou sure were thinking it though,â he remarks, a slight smirk threatening the corner of his mouth.
âAnd you know that how?â I counter giving him a pointed look. But, Sam cuts him off before he can get a word in, âCould you both stop, please?â
âYeah, sorry,â I mumble, returning to my reading.Â
âYou know when this whole things done, we could stick around for a little bit,â Dean offers, not exactly backing down like his brother wanted.
âWhy?â Sam asks.
âSo you could take her out again,â he answers. âItâs obvious youâre into her, even I could see that.â Itâs quite a conflicting situation. On the one hand, maybe we shouldnât push or encourage him to go on dates when heâs clearly still grieving his girlfriend. In truth, it feels wrong and inconsiderate but on the other hand, maybe encouraging him could help with the moving on and accepting process. Or, perhaps this isnât our place at all and we should shut up. âHey, Sam, you said the first murder was in 1912, right?â I ask, deciding to move on from the conversation of dating. âYeah, why?â he responds.
âI have a family portrait here from 1910 with the first sale in 1912 to Peter Simms,â I explain, lifting the paper for him to see. Then, there's a familiar presence behind me, a hand resting on the back of my chair. âPeter Simms murdered in 1912,â Dean reads, holding his Dad's journal in his free hand.Â
âThereâs another sale in â45 and then in â70. Does that match?â I ask, looking up at him.
âYeah,â he nods, confirming this was what we were looking for.
âThen it was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,â Sam fills in the rest of the information. âSo, what do you think, itâs haunted? Or cursed?â
Dean shifts behind me, the journal coming to a soft close, âEither way, itâs toast.â
Pitch darkness cloaks us as we break in, from climbing the ridiculously tall metal gate to the careful way Sam disarms the security alarm before Dean works at the lock with careful, gloved hands. Our flashlights guide our way into the quiet auction house. Itâs so different now without all the people, more enjoyable even.Â
The painting is located quickly and cut from its frame with a switchblade. And as quickly as we came we left, doing almost everything in reverse. âFour minutes,â I announce, ââThink thatâs a new record.â
****
The cut-out painting lies in the dirt of a random side road. Something that took a lot of work and talent to do left to burn in the middle of nowhere. âUgly ass thing. If you ask me weâre doing the art world a favor,â Dean remarks, dropping the lit match onto the art piece.Â
This had to be some sort of crime.
I swing my legs off the bed, shoving my laptop onto the duvet as I get up to answer the knocking at my door. Before opening it, I tug my shirt to sit properly off my shoulder.
âHey, we have aââ he stops short, those green eyes dropping to my bare legs. The oversized shirt Iâm wearing only reaches mid-thigh. A smirk tugs at his perfect lips, and whatever he is going to say goes out the window. His gaze drags up my frame slowly, my insides going all warm and my stomach flipping in a way I wish it wouldnât. âWhat were you up to?â he asks, the smirk still easy and lazy on his face. A huffed laugh escapes me, and I hope he doesnât notice the blush creeping onto my cheeks. âWhat happened with âwe have aâŚâ?â I answer instead.
âWhat?â His eyes snap back to mine from wherever they were looking.
I laugh again. âDean,â I say firmly, trying to keep the conversation on track. âWhat were you going to tell me?â
He shrugs, something he doesnât do often, his smirk turning into a goofier smile. âI have no idea.â
I give him a pointed look, heâs messing with me now. âCome on, Winchester, focus.âÂ
His eyes dip down again, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as his gaze crawls back up. âOh, Iâm plenty focused.â
âYou were saying something about âwe have aâŚââ I try again, hoping to jog his memory.
âProblem,â he finishes, shuffling a little bit as he adjusts how heâs standing. âRight. A problem.â
I wait for him to elaborate, but he just stares at me. âWhat's the problem?â I ask, leading this conversation.
ââCanât find my wallet,â he answers, nodding awkwardly. I try not to let the surprise show on my face. All this because he couldnât find his wallet? âDo you need help finding itâŚ?â I offer.
âYeah,â he nods, then pauses. âWait. No. I think I dropped it at the warehouse.â
âWhat!?â I exclaim. âWhy didnât you say that sooner!?â Immediately I spin right back into my room. âLet me get dressed real quick,â I add over my shoulder.
He steps into the room, letting the door shut behind him as I rummage through my duffle. âWait.â I pause, turning to face him. His eyes dart up to meet mine, eyebrows raised as if he got caught doing something he shouldnât have. I brush his antics off as I ask, âDo you want me to just,â I raise my hands, wiggling my fingers, âmagick it here.âÂ
A small look of surprise hits his face as if he hadnât thought of it. âRight. Soââ
****
âYou could have encouraged him instead of fake losing your wallet, you know right?â I ask, looking up at him as his brother and Sarah converse across the room.Â
âWhereâs the fun in that?â he remarks.Â
âI donât think making us think you could get caught for last night because you dropped your wallet is very fun,â I point out, crossing my arms across my chest. His wallet was in his pocket the whole time, which of course he knew about. What he really wanted was an excuse to get Sam and Sarah together again after their date. I donât necessarily disagree with what he intended to do but it also isnât exactly fun to be in the warehouse again. Itâs like no matter what we still can't fit in.
But, he doesnât need to say it. We both know Sam wouldnât have come here otherwise.Â
****
âI donât understand, we burned the damn thing,â Sam says, frustrated.Â
âYeah, thank you Captain Obvious,â Dean grumbles.Â
âAnd we can for sure rule out itâs not a duplicateâŚ.somehowâŚright?â I ask even though Iâm not convinced of what Iâm saying either. But a girl can dream. Sam turns in the passenger seat, delivering me the nastiest pointed look to ever be received. âOkay. Okay. I get it,â I say, raising my hands in defense. âI was trying to beâŚhopeful.âÂ
Dean nudges his brother's arm, getting him to lay off of me. âAlright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?â
âOkay, alright. We, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings itâs always the paintingâs subject that haunts âem,â Sam informs.
âYeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting,â Dean adds.
âWho do you think would know about them?â I ask.
****
The smell of old books fills my senses as we step into the second-hand bookstore, the little bell above the door chiming softly. Itâs quiet and warm in the store with books stacked in piles littering the floor, making walking almost hard. Others are neatly arranged on tightly packed shelves in an attempt to fit more. If we werenât here on business, Iâd spend so much money here. I have to force my eyes away from the alluring spines of the novels, a gentle hand on my lower back encourages me to focus. I donât need to turn my head to know the hand belongs to Dean.
âYou said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?â the old man behind the counter asks.
âYeah, thatâs right,â Sam answers. The man lays out a huge book, dust sprinkling from it as he opens it to reveal the many news clippings inside. Heâs well organized, I have to give him that. But, my focus is broken by the flicking of pages beside me. I look at Dean, his free hand holding open some old magazine about guns. Naturally, the guy encouraging me to focus is unfocused himself. But, he looks so happy as he flicks through the pages itâs hard to be upset. âWant me to buy that for you?â I ask softly, the words slipping from my lips before I have time to think. I kind of want to hit myself for that one.
But then he turns that smile on me and suddenly I do not want to hit myself. âIâm a big boy,â he says, his gaze dipping lower. âI can buy my own stuff.â His eyes slowly trail back up to meet mine, but his hand doesnât stay still. It dips slightly, taking my stomach with it. His middle finger hooks lightly through a belt loop on my jean skirt, the rest of his fingers splayed on my very lower back. âYou rarely buy things for yourself,â I point out. He only buys himself the necessities.
âI dug up every scrap of local history I could find,â the owner announces, pulling my attention forward. âSo are you crime buffs?â
âMhm,â I hum. âYeah.â
âWhy do you ask?â Dean asks, and I can feel the heat of his gaze pulling away from me.
âWellâŚâ He holds up a newspaper article. The lead story, taking up most of the front page, is about the Titanic. But, a little further down to where he points is a side article titled: âFather Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.â
âMurder-suicide,â I mumble to myself. Itâs certainly not the first.
âYes. Yeah, that sounds about right,â Dean says, stumbling on his words.
âThe whole family was killed?â Sam asks.
âIt seems this Isaiah, he slits his kidsâ throats, then his wife, then himself. Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,â he explains, his voice gravelly with age.
âDoes it say why he mightâve done it?â I ask.
âLetâs look,â he answers, turning the newspaper around so that he can read it. ââPeople who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist.ââ
Itâs certainly not surprising news considering it was the early 1900âs. âWife, uh, two sons, adopted daughterâŚâ he continues. âYeah, yeah, yeah,â he mumbles as he skims the page. ââThere were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.â Which of course you know in that day and age, umâŚ.â he clears his throat. âSo, instead, old man IsaiahâŚwell he gave them all a shave.â He draws his hand across his throat, mimicking the motion of slitting one's throat as he laughs.Â
âThatâs, uh, certainly one way to put it,â I respond, my words harsh. It was hardly a laughing matter. An entire family was killed because some guy let his anger and ego get in the way when all his wife wanted was to get the kids and escape his wrath. His laugh dies down pretty quickly once he realizes no one is joining in. âDoes it say what happened to the bodies?â Dean asks.
âJust that they were all cremated,â he answers.
âAnything else?â Sam asks.
âYeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family.â He shuffles through the papers in the book, âItâs right hereâŚ.somewhere. Rightâhere it is.â He holds up the paper for us to see. Itâs the family portrait from the painting.Â
âHey, could we get a copy of this please?â Sam asks.
****
âIâm telling you, man, Iâm sure of it. In the painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dadâs looking out. The painting has changed,â Sam argues for the fifth time since weâve been sitting at the table.
âAlright,â Dean finally gives in. âSo, you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?â
âWell yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted then how are we gonna stop him?â
âMaybe not everything was burned,â I suggest.Â
âKind of hard to miss something when youâre cremated,â Sam counters.
âWell yeah but that doesnât mean a keepsake doesnât still exist,â I point out. âOr, not even a keepsake but maybe anything thatâs on his person in the painting thatâs still around now. If itâs personal enough.â
âMaybe,â Sam nods, seeing my point. âAnd if we figure out what and burn it then no more killing.â
âYeah,â I nod with him, âWe just have to figure out whatâŚsomehow.â
âAnd where,â he adds.Â
âWell, if Isaiahâs position changed then maybe some other things in the painting changed as well,â Dean suggests. âYou know it could give us some clues.â
âWhat, like a Da Vinci Code deal?â Sam asks.Â
Dean's face goes blank, âI donâtâŚ.know..uhâŚIâm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.â He rises from his seat and moves across the room to his bed, he throws himself onto his back and crosses his arms across his chest. I have to stop myself from ogling him with the way the grey shirt looks on him, especially with those forearms on displayâŚ
âWhich is a good thing cause you get some more time to crush on your girlfriend,â he teases.
âDude. Enough already,â Sam says firmly.
âWhat?â He answers in defense.
ââWhat? Ever since we got here, youâve been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, alright?â
âWell, you like her donât you?â He reasons. Sam groans and rolls his eyes. âAlright, you like her, she likes you, youâre both consulting adults,â Dean adds.
âWhatâs the point, Dean?â Sam responds, his voice rising as his frustration rises too. âWeâll just leave. We always leave.â Itâs quite a reminder. The life of a hunter isnât a kind one for many reasons, one of them being how lonely it can get. Itâs knowing a normal life canât ever truly exist because once this is embedded into you it stays. And he had tried to get away from the hunting life and it had worked for as long as it did with his girlfriend whom he was happy with until, once more, the hunting life caught up to him and he had to lose it all unfairly.Â
âWell, Iâm not talking about marriage, Sam,â he defends.
âYou know, I donât get it. What do you care if I hook up?â he asks, getting more agitated.Â
âCause then maybe you wouldnât be so cranky all the time,â he answers calmly. Sam stares at him, then huffs out a breath and looks away. Dean sits up from the bed as he continues, âYou know, seriously Sam, this isnât about just hooking up, okay? I mean, IâI think that this Sarah girl could be good for you.â But, once more he doesnât get an answer other than a sigh.
âAndâŚâ he continues softly. âI donât mean any disrespect but Iâm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I donât know what itâs like to lose somebody like thatâŚbutâŚI would think that she would want you to be happy.â
Tears fill the younger Winchesterâs eyes. But, Dean continues anyway. âGod forbid have fun once in a while. Wouldnât she?â âYeah, I know she would,â he answers softly, a half smile managing on his lips. âYeah, youâre right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.â
âWhatâs it about?â Dean asks. This time Sam doesnât answer. And, luckily, I donât have to give Dean a look to tell him not to push it because he lies back down. âYeah, alright,â he says crossing his arms across his chest. âWell, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah soâŚâÂ
A little surprisingly Sam picks up his phone, clearing his throat as he does so. âSarah, hey, itâs Sam,â he says awkwardly. âHey, hiâŚ.Good, Good, yeah, umm. What about you?â
I have to try not to cringe at how awkward this is. Itâs uncomfortable.
âYeah good, good, really good,â he repeats himself.
âSmooth,â Dean mumbles.
âSo, uh, so listen. Me and my brâwe were, uh, thinking that maybe weâd like to come back in and look at the painting again. IâI think maybe we are interested in buying it.â There's a pause before his eyes widen and he exclaims, âWhat?!â He stands up and paces, âWhoâd you sell it to?â
Oh frick.
âSarah, I need an address right now.â
****
The Impala roars up the drive, Sam and I not waiting for it to come to a full stop before jumping out. Sarah runs down from the driveway, her eyes wide in panic, âSam whatâs happening?â I hear her ask as I move past them and up the porch.
âI told you, you shouldnât have come,â Sam says from behind me. I knock as loudly as I can against the door, âHello?â I call loudly. Dean appears at my side, banging on the door and shouting, âAnyone home?â From what I can see the lights look off.
âYou said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?â Sarah asks. But, unfortunately, she has to be ignored for now as we try and get in. Sam goes to the windows and starts banging on them as best as he can with the metal gates in the way. âI canât knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it,â Dean announces.
âNo time,â I intervene, shaking my head. If Sarah wasnât there Iâd blast it open but she doesnât deserve to be brought into this life any more than sheâs being exposed to it. So, instead, I cover my hand with my sleeve and put it on the doorknob. I apply a little magick, a stream of purple mist going into the locks. I turn the knob and push the door open, revealing the darkness that cloaks the house. âWhat are you guys, burglars?â Sarah remarks. I donât wait for their conversation to pan out as I nod towards inside, quietly asking Dean if heâs going to follow. Unsurprisingly, he follows after me as I step into the house before he quickly takes the lead.Â
âEvelyn,â I call as we venture in deeper. I can hear the insistent steps that follow behind us, one set familiar the other not.Â
A soft glow of light stretches into the hallway just enough to lead our way. We turn into what looks to be a lounge. A blonde lady sits half-turned on the sofa. I take in the room swiftly from the burning candles to the painting that sits above the mantle. The father in the painting isnât looking straight or down, instead, he looks at the daughter. âEvelyn?â Sarah says softly, appearing beside us. But, based on the lack of reaction or even recognition itâs likely that weâre too late. âItâs Sarah BlakeâŚâ She carefully walks into the room and closer to the woman. âAre you alright?â She slowly reaches a hand out to Evelynâs shoulder.
âWait! Thatâs not aâ
âSarah donât. Sarah!â
Our warnings don't stop her. Evelynâs head tips back, exposing the long cut on her throat. Sarah screams, the noise seeming to reverberate. Her head is barely attached to her neck, blood spewing from the cut rapidly. âOh my God. Oh My God!âÂ
Sam quickly intervenes, putting an arm around her as he leads her out of the room.
Weâre forced to watch Sam pace back and forth even though weâre supposed to be researching. Heâs been doing it all morning. Heâs very distracting.Â
He finally stops with a knock on the door. The person behind it is the reason he was pacing in the first place. He opens the door and in storms Sarah. âHey. âYou alright?â Sam asks.
âNo, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelynâs, alone, and found her like that,â she spews. Her hands are balled in fists at her side, a fire of determination burning in her eyes. And even though sheâs angry, Samâs face relaxes. âThank you,â he says sincerely.
âDonât thank me, Iâm about to call them right back if you donât tell me what the hellâs going on,â she demands. âWhoâs killing these people?âÂ
Sam looks at us for help, and the question is clear in his eyes. I shrug, I donât feel comfortable enough to give a solid âyesâ but she wonât take no for an answer. She deserves an answer. He looks back at Sarah, âWhat,â he corrects.
âWhat?â
âItâs not âwho.â Itâs âwhatâ is killing those people,â he elaborates. Expectantly, she looks at him like heâs crazy. He sighs, âSarah, you saw that painting move.â
âNo,â she says firmly. âNoâŚI wasâŚI was seeing things. Itâs impossible.â
âYeah well, welcome to our world,â Dean and I say in unison. I look at him a little shocked, âJinx.â
âSarah, I know this sounds crazy,â Sam continues. âBut we think that painting is haunted.â
She bursts into laughter, tears filling her eyes. âYouâre joking.â But, of course, we arenât. She looks between Sam and Dean and I. âYouâre not joking.â
âGod, the guys I go out with,â she mumbles. And for Samâs sake, I hold back my laughter.
âSarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that,â Sam explains. âWherever this thing goes people die. And weâre just trying to stop it. And thatâs the truth.â
She takes a deep breath, âThen I guess youâd better show me. Iâm coming with you.â
âWhat? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous andâŚand I donât want you to get hurt.â
âLook, you guys are probably crazy,â she says bluntly. âBut, if youâre right about this? Well, my Dad and I sold that painting that mightâve gotten these people killed. Look Iâm not saying Iâm not scared because I am scared as hell butâŚIâm not going to run and hide either.â She strides over to the door before pausing and turning back, âSo are we going or what?â Then, she walks out.Â
Sheâs cool. âSam?â Dean says. Once he has his attention he points to the door after Sarah, âMarry that girl.â
****
âUhhâŚisnât this a crime scene?â Sarah asks as I open the door again. We didnât have to rush inside this time but itâs easier than waiting for a lock to be picked. I probably shouldâve done it when we broke into the warehouseâŚ.
âIt is,â I answer as we walk in. âIf it makes you feel better your prints are already insideâŚand on the victim and because you found her theyâve already been cataloged or considered. So a couple more wonât make a difference seeing as they likely donât suspect you. I mean, they let you go after getting your statement so thatâs good.â
She looks at me a little strangely, a tight-lipped smile on her lips. Iâm probably not helping the crazy allegations. âI used to do the whole crime investigation thingâŚ.sort of,â I try to explain. The writing job I had was a weird one because I wasnât really doing any crime investigation, Iâm not certified like that. But I did need and use skills that investigators might have. It was kind of an excuse to be a nerd and write. Also, it paid well. She nods. I donât think Iâve been convincingâŚmaybe I should stop speaking. âYouâve already lied to the cops. Whatâs another infraction?â Dean remarks as Sam lifts the painting down from the wall.Â
âArenât you worried that itâsâŚgonna kill us?â Sarah asks.
âNah, it seems to do its thing at night,â Sam answers. âI think weâre alright in the daylight.â
Dean takes the photocopy of the original painting out of his pocket and holds it up in comparison. âCheck it out. The razor, itâs closed in this one but itâs open in that one,â he points out.
âWhat are you guys looking for?â she butts in.
âWell, if the spiritâs changing aspects of the painting then itâs doing so for a reason,â Dean explains.
âWhatâs that thing in the painting,â I ask, squinting and pointing behind the family. âI mean the painting thatâs in the painting.â
âLooks like a mausoleum,â Sam answers with a tilted head. Dean looks around before grabbing a glass ashtray from an end table. He holds it up to the mausoleum. âMerchant,â he confirms.
****
Carefully I step around the gravestones, no need to upset any more dead people. âThis is the third boneyard weâve checked,â Dean complains. âI think this ghost is jerking us around.â
âAt least weâre looking for a whole building rather than a lonely gravestone,â I point out. This way we can beeline to the building area instead of searching each line of graves. âSo this is what you guys do for a living?â Sarah asks.
âNot exactly. We donât get paid,â Sam answers.
âWell, Mazel tov,â she remarks.Â
After venturing deeper into the graveyard we found the mausoleum, the âMerchantâ name carved right into it. Dean breaks the lock, revealing the mass of cobwebs and dust. Various nameplates fill one wall while the other side holds the urns all lined up with glass-fronted boxes built into the walls. But the number of urns is weird.
âOkay, that right there,â she points at a doll in one of the boxes. âIs the creepiest thing I've ever seen.âÂ
âI think itâs cute,â I shrug. The doll isnât creepy, itâs quite normal with its brown hair and white dress. There isnât an eye missing or a smudge on it. âWell, it was a sort of tradition at the time,â Sam explains. âWhenever a child died sometimes theyâd preserve the kidâs favorite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt.â
âNotice anything strange here,â Dean asks.
âYeah, thereâs only four urns,â I answer. âAnd unless I suck at counting there should be five.â
âDaddy dearest isnât here,â he confirms.
âSo where is he?â Sam asks.
****
An office building, a lot of lying, paydirt, and possibly interrupting an almost kiss between Sam and Sarah later leads us to another graveyard, a grave, and some shovels. According to what Dean and I had found, the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were ashamed of Isaiah enough to not want him to be kept with the rest of the family. So, he was given over to the county who gave him a simple burial. Not a cremation. Therefore, a body to burn. Which again, leads to the shovel in my hand. Bad day to wear a white shirt because now I have to keep my zip-up on and digging up a grave is already a workout. Yay, sweat.
Sam lifts himself out of the grave to stand with Sarah and her flashlight. Even with 2-3 people digging itâs a lot of work. I donât even want to know how long weâve been at this for. âYou guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,â she comments.Â
âWell, uh, this isnât exactly the first grave weâve dug,â Sam responds. âStill think Iâm a catch?â
She laughs and God they need to kiss already.Â
Finally, Deanâs shovel hits something hard. âThink Iâve got something,â he announces.
âOh thank God,â I sigh, leaning on the handle of my shovel as I wipe some sweat from my forehead. âThis so sucked.â
âNow you can stop worrying about your pretty little shirt gettinâ all dirty,â Dean remarks. I roll my eyes, of course, he picked up on that. âIâm gonna hit you with my shovel,â I threaten, my smile ruining the seriousness of my words.Â
âAre they always like this?â
âYup.â
âIâd like to see you try,â he counters as he looks me up and down.
âAnd Iâll hit both of you,â Sam threatens, peering into the grave.Â
âOkay Obi-Wan Kenobi,â I mumble as I help Dean clear up more of the dirt to open it.Â
âNerd,â Dean remarks.
âDude! You saw the movie too!â I defend.
âShut up,â he grumbles. âMove back so I can open this.â
****
Lighter fluid and salt in place, Dean strikes his match. âYouâve been a real pain in the ass Isaiah. Good riddance.â He tosses the match in, everything going up in flames.
****
The Impala pulls in front of Evelynâs house, hopefully, for the last time. âKeep the motor running,â Sam directs, opening the car door.
âI thought the painting was harmless now,â Sarah says beside me.
âBetter safe than sorry. Weâre gonna bury the sucker,â Sam explains.
Sarah gets out of the car, declaring, âIâm going with you.â
âYou sure?â
âYeah,â she answers, something shining in her eyes. Okay, now they really need to kiss. Sam tries to get out of the car again before Dean stops him, âWeâll stay here, you go make your move.âÂ
He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he gets out of the car. âSam. Iâm serious!â But, heâs ignored as they round the car and move up the stairs. Dean turns on the radio, a silly love song playing. I have to shake my head with how obvious it is, the upbeat tune paired with lyrics like âIâm in love with a girl that Iâm talking aboutâŚIâm in love with a girl I canât live withoutâŚâ Sam practically whips around to give his brother a dirty look. But, Dean being Dean shrugs, seeing no problem with his intervention. Sam motions for him to cut it off, his eyes wide. Surprisingly, Dean shuts it off but not without sighing. âIâm fairly sure theyâll kiss even without your ridiculous music,â I say as I watch them enter the house.
âItâs not ridiculous,â he counters.Â
âI love a good love song but that was painfully obvious, Dean. Plus, can you really kiss to that one?â
âOne way to find out.â
âYeah, youâre gonna try that on your next hookup?â I ask. He shakes his head but I canât see his face from where I sit in the backseat and with his head downturned I canât use the rearview mirror either. But, I donât have time to dwell on it and he has no time to vocalize an answer when our attention is taken away by the front door slamming.Â
Heâs out of the Impala and up half the stairs before I can open my door. âSammy, you alright?â he calls out, shoving himself against the door. His phone rings a half second later and I donât think Iâve seen him pick up his phone quicker. âTell me you slammed the front door,â he says. And I try to connect the pieces of the conversation with only half of it. Something with a girl. âWasnât the Dad looking at her?â Dean asks. âMaybe he was trying to warn us.â Well, that answers what girl.
âHey, sweetheart?â He suddenly directs at me. âCould youââ I nod before he can finish. I know what he wants. âMove back,â he tells them. I know this time simply unlocking it wonât work with a spirit being the one to keep it closed. I guess Sarah gets to see a door exploding anyway. âWait! What do you mean no time?!â But my hand is already raised, a blast of energy going right through the door. Shards of wood explode inward.Â
âWhereâd they go?â I ask, the entryway clear of people and spirits. When he told them to move I thought theyâd remain close by, not disappear. âDamn things on âem,â Dean answers, moving past me to go in headfirst. âSammy!â he yells. But thereâs no response. âWhat could be left behind?â I ask, following after him, âWe saw her urn!â
âI donât know,â he throws back. Something crashes and slides fast behind me. I spin around, a large wooden cupboard now blocking the remains of the front door. Closing us in. âReally?â I get it doesnât want us to leave but I just broke the door. âSammy!â Dean yells. Something else slams and this time Deanâs gone too. âDean! Sam!â I call, moving further down the hall. How big is this house? My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble for it, flipping it open before I can catch more than the first letter of the name. âWhere did you go? I looked away for two seconds and you were gone. Are you with Sam?â
âIâm a little stuck right now,â he answers, his voice sounding a little gruffer.
âWhere are you?â I repeat, spinning around slowly for any sign of where he went.
âThat doesnât matter Iââ
âIt kind of does,â I cut him off.
âListen,â he says firmly. âI need you to do something for me, sweetheart,â he groans.
âDeaââ
âThink you can do somethinâ for me?â
âYeah, Dean jusââ
âYou gotta get back to the mausoleum and burn the doll, it might have her real hair,â he directs. âThe keys are in Baby, gââ
âI can get there quicker than that,â I cut him off. âJustâŚbe safe and find Sam.â I hang up before he can say anything more. I roll my shoulders back, I can do this. Iâve teleported before. Hell, I managed to teleport to a place Iâd never seen before back with the asylum hunt. This may be further but Iâve been there once so thatâs going to have to be close enough. Also, I have no time for this. I exhale, summoning my powers forward. I donât have time to focus on what I want as I did at the asylum. So, I put all my hope into it working as simply as I can. I flick my wrist and envision the inside of the mausoleum. ThenâŚIâm there.
Man, Iâm getting good at this.Â
I waste no time in sending a small blast of energy at the glass covering. It shatters in the box, covering the doll in glass. Carefully, I lift the doll out of the box and hold it in one hand as I hold my pointer finger up. A little flame ignites from the tip of my finger, not hurting me in the slightest. âSorry doll,â I mumble, holding her hair over the flame. Quickly, it ignites. Her brown hair goes up in flames and with it, I hope, the spirit of the ghost girl. I shake off my finger flame, not needing it anymore with how flammable the hair is. I put the doll down on the stone floor, letting it go up in flames as I take out my phone. I click on Samâs contact, bouncing on the balls of my feet, nervously, as it rings. Please be okay. âSam! Oh my god, are you guys okay? Did it work?âÂ
âWeâre not bad.â
At the auction house, workers buzz around packing various things up in crates. The spirit is dead for good this time and no one else got hurt. âThis was archived in the county records,â Dean announces, walking over with some papers. âThe Merchantâs adopted daughter Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? âCause her real family was murdered in their beds.â
âShe killed them?â Sarah asks.
âYeah,â Dean answers. âWhoâd suspect her? âSweet little girl. So when she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spiritâs been trying to warn people ever since.â
âGuess she figured she couldnât get away with it twice,â I say, thinking out loud. Yet, through death, she was able to get away with it continuously.Â
âSo whereâs this one go?â One of the workers asks, holding up the Merchant family portrait.
âTake it out back and burn it,â Sarah directs. Both workers seem to pause at once, looking at her strangely as if she might be joking despite her serious tone. âIâm serious guys. Thanks,â she insists. She looks back at us, the workers walking off with the painting. âSo whyâd the girl do it?â
âKilling others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured. So when they die, their spirits are just as dark,â Sam answers.
âMaybe,â Dean adds and I agree with that far more than the idea that people are born evil when itâs more complicated than that. âI donât really care,â he continues, âItâs over, we move on.â
âAhh,â Sarah sighs. âI guess this means youâre leaving.â
I nudge Dean as he looks between the two. This is our cue to leave. âWeâll go wait in the car,â Dean says. âSee you, Sarah.â
âIt was nice meeting you,â I add, giving a little wave before we head out. âNow I can give you your thing,â I tell Dean.
âWhat âthingâ?â he asks, looking confused.
âYouâll find out in just a second,â I laugh, skipping in front of him. I get to the car first and open the back door. I bend down as I open my duffle, taking what I left on top in my hands. I zip up my bag and turn to him holding it behind my bag before the big reveal. âOkay, itâs stupid,â I warn. âBut here.â I hold out the magazine he had been reading at the old bookstore the other day. His eyebrows rise, and his mouth parts as if he wants to say something, except nothing comes out of his mouth he just smiles and takes it from my hands. âSweetheartâŚâ he trails off, looking down at the magazine. I smile brightly as he looks at it, practically beaming where I stand.
Then, a knock swifts both of our attentions. I look up at the auction house door, Dean turning to do the same. And right there in the doorway, Sam kisses Sarah, his head bent down to her level and his hands on her waist. âThatâs my boy,â Dean smiles.
(Next Chapter)
Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl
#supernatural#fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#the hunter and the witch#sam winchester#dean winchester x witch reader#slow burn#john winchester#supernatural season one#dean winchester x f!reader series#dean winchester x f!reader#dean winchester x female reader#dean winchester x fem!reader#witch reader
70 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Random Person: Ew fanfiction is weird
Me: Itâs the only way someone will love me like I need them to.
#harry styles#harry styles imagines#harry styles x reader#harryâs house#harry styles imagine#writing inspiration#harry potter#theo nott#writing prompts#criminal minds imagines#delulu#hunter!reader x dean winchester#dean winchester
81 notes
¡
View notes
Text
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/64d705e026b7cca22d34c536d03d6fb7/994e8519cc030823-6e/s500x750/8604d8aca93d9d556625e6837ce4f0b82fc326e2.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bfd000a2c36081d8d2c8c7d42809e4a9/994e8519cc030823-e1/s540x810/7d11ea87a9a3d77905372efac6853cb02a826dc5.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d6b23ab0d4806b4e9a60fef9733ccf5e/994e8519cc030823-e1/s540x810/0d926a3e8cf3eed50b2ba7bb82f0b53ccf1a83e0.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ae102913eb865e4dfe5e48d29a648b04/994e8519cc030823-58/s540x810/dcd670d3c213963d9c98b4fff81e8a11306acbe3.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c6459b93aad08cbe9e32222fc85502c8/994e8519cc030823-d7/s540x810/57249ce03a7c54072bc73cb6eb5d4c7de86e0cc0.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/88dc659f93a2ef5baf54bd91138c5e61/994e8519cc030823-33/s540x810/c14d37c1a4cc4f953d84da18233a0f4aacde791c.jpg)
#2013 tumblr#girlblogging#old tumblr#2013 girly#2014 nostalgia#2014 revival#2014 vibes#2012 tumblr#sam winchester#sam supernatural#supernatural#super natural#girl blogger#2014 tumblr#tv series#tv shows#sam and dean#samdean#the winchester brothers#the winchesters#tumblr 2014#2013 aesthetic#hell is a teenage girl#supernatural aesthetic#supernatural vibes#demon and angel#dean winchester#sam x reader#demon hunter#aesthetic
45 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hello! I would like to request Dean hearing his gf screaming from the bathroom and him running up there guns a blazeing when it was just a spider đ basically how he would react in this situation
this is so funny, i can imagine this đđ
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b0c20fa007e5d84abbb94d9b39f9a16d/609cf0e6211ef422-66/s540x810/f531741890b2ad5851976233a6dfcd7be4749f61.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/52be71e94c929efb4cca222baf130740/609cf0e6211ef422-47/s540x810/ace135712693ce41e650be7e77445a771a1106bc.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/67c555368c42a133365a46ed99be2679/609cf0e6211ef422-0c/s500x750/4535322162d7426cd6fbb15be485d3fb2a4a463c.jpg)
when he heard a scream he thought that something horrible happened, like you broke a leg for example,
"what, what is wrong?!" you screamed like you just saw a ghost so he was worried,
"there is a giant spider in here!! dean, i mean like huuge!!"
and he is now just looking at you and blinking,
"babe, we are fighting monsters and you are scared of a spider?"
"yeah, they are small and... hairy... fuckin disgusting!"
he just shook his head and without saying anything else he just killed the spider,
"i will use this information against you one day, baby, you know that?" dean chuckles because this is just so funny to him,
but he is not trying to be mean, in fact he thinks this is kinda cute.
supernatural masterlist
#supernatural#dean winchester#jensen ackles#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester headcanon#dean winchester ff#dean winchester fic#dean winchester au#dean winchester x hunter!reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester angst#dean winchester smut#dean winchester blurb#supernatural dean#spn dean#dean spn#supernatural au
306 notes
¡
View notes
Text
is the supernatural fandom alive on here? cause ive got some yummy things in mind and i want you all to see it!
my october event is coming soon, will probably publish the master list sometime next week and I will update my current master list as well.
i know i said im stepping back from jjk, that is true, but ill probably still write about it during the october event. stay tuned! and for those that requested something in my inbox, ill get to you soon my hunnibuns!
until next time, ciao.
#nanivinsmoke#jujustu kaisen#supernatural hunters#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#john winchester#supernatural x reader#supernatural smut#dean winchester smut#castiel smut#jjk smut
51 notes
¡
View notes