#dean x OC

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

daemonium amor

A/n :A drabble for🎉 @rubyvhs 500 song challenge celebration 🎉

430ish words

Warnings- Angst, Couple fighting,

His eyes rose from the book as the clacking of her heeled boots on the tile caught his attention. His gazed traveled up as she passed him, feeling a prickle of excitement as he took in those skinny jeans hugging her curves, that silky black tank cut low enough to show off just enough, her curls bouncing with every step.

A wave of nausea made its way from the pit his stomach, when she picked up her leather jacket and swung it around her. He leaned back in his chair and took a swig of his whiskey. “Let me guess.” He sneered.

She paused just before the entrance to the war room. “You’re seriously mad right now?” He stayed silent, prompting her to spin around. “How did you think this was going to be?”

His jaw clenched, as he felt the anger stir within him.

She slowly made her way over to him. “Did you think I would just settle down and be the perfect little housewife?” she mocked, running her fingers through his hair.

He scoffed, “Didn’t expect you to keep making deals.” He shook away her fingers and stood up, turning to face her.

“You knew what I was going into this.” she closed the space between them, gliding her hands up his chest making his face twist in pain.

“Don’t!”  He pushed her hands away and stomped over to the bar cart.

“Dean, why did you start this if you couldn’t handle.”

“Like I have a choice.” he shouted, cutting off her question.

“And you think I do?” she retorted.

She sighed, the clanking started behind him again, quieter this time, her strides hesitant as she made her way to him. He let out a deep breath, attempting to let go of the frustration that bubbled within him, as her arms wrapped around him from behind. He turned around, breaking her hold.

He grasped her hand and brought it gently to his lips. “Stay.”

“Dean…”

His fingers slid to the nape of her neck as he gently pressed his lips against her forehead.

“We will figure it out. There must be something.”

“I gotta go.” Every muscle in his body tensed at her words. She stepped back, leaving his arms longing for her as they dropped to his side. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t bother.”

She nodded and the clacking started again, with every step his anger intensified.

The bunker door slammed shut and his fury boiled over, sending the chair crashing against the cement wall, shattering it into fragments.

Tag List

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[deansbeer]

ᘍ meet ᘊ ✶ ❝ VIXEN, THE UNTOUCHABLE FLAME ! ❞

created by KARI HER spotify playlist

⎯⎯ portrayed by my wife @titsout4jackles ⟡

❝ she burns bright, but get too close and you'll regret it. ❞

BREE ( ❝ VIXEN ❞ ) ⎯⎯ THE BLACK BUNNY.

VIXEN'S not just another pretty face in the mansion—she's the one who keeps everything in check. sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and effortlessly commanding,  VIXEN  is the kind of woman who walks into a room and owns it without saying a word. she exudes confidence, with a knowing smirk that says she's always three steps ahead of everyone else.

while the other bunnies lean into sweetness or mystery,  VIXEN  is all fire—bold, unapologetic, and unwilling to take shit from anyone, not even PLAYBOY!DEAN. she's the closest thing the mansion has to a second-in-command, ensuring that everything runs smoothly and that no one—guest or otherwise—crosses the line. the other bunnies respect her, even if they sometimes whisper about how intimidating she can be.

PLAYBOY!DEAN may run the mansion, but VIXEN

 makes sure it doesn't burn to the ground. she's the one who handles problems before they become disasters, smoothing over conflicts with a well-placed threat or a perfectly timed smirk. if someone's getting too rowdy, she's the one who puts them in their place—without ever raising her voice.

there's an undeniable tension between her and PLAYBOY!DEAN. they argue, push each other's buttons, and challenge each other constantly. but deep down, there's an understanding between them—he knows she's invaluable, and she knows he'd be lost without her.

RANDOM HEADCANONS.

SHE CARRIES HERSELF LIKE A QUEEN  ⎯⎯ always poised, always in control. she doesn't need to demand respect; it's given to her the moment she walks into a room.

SHE HAS A SHARP TONGUE  ⎯⎯ if someone tries to get smart with her, they'd better be prepared for a verbal takedown that leaves them speechless.

SHE PREFERS WINE OVER WHISKEY  ⎯⎯ strong, smooth, and with a bit of a bite—just like her.

SHE HAS A SOFT SPOT FOR THE OTHER BUNNIES  ⎯⎯ she may act tough, but she's fiercely protective of them. if someone messes with her girls, they'll regret it.

SHE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN TRULY CHALLENGE PLAYBOY!DEAN  ⎯⎯ she's not afraid of him, and he respects that. their banter is legendary, full of teasing insults and unspoken tension.

SHE'S ALWAYS IN BLACK OR GOLD ⎯⎯ sleek, elegant, and dangerous—her wardrobe reflects her personality.

SHE SECRETLY LOVES JAZZ AND BLUES ⎯⎯ there's something about smoky, late-night music that soothes her. she'll never admit it, though.

SHE HAS A SIGNATURE RED LIPSTICK ⎯⎯ a deep, striking shade that leaves a mark—literally and figuratively.

SHE'S A NIGHT OWL  ⎯⎯ the mansion's energy at night is when she thrives, when everything is electric, and she's in her element.

WHAT VIXEN LOVES MOST

CONTROL  ⎯⎯ not in a power-hungry way, but in the sense that she likes knowing things are handled, that nothing is spiraling out of control.

CIGARETTES & SLOW-BURNING CONVERSATIONS  ⎯⎯ she enjoys those late-night talks where nothing and everything is said at once.

WINNING ARGUMENTS   ⎯⎯ there's nothing more satisfying than shutting someone down with a well-placed remark.

THE THRILL OF THE GAME  ⎯⎯ whether it's a high-stakes poker match or a battle of wits, she lives for the challenge.

LOYALTY  ⎯⎯ she doesn't trust easily, but when she does, she expects the same unwavering loyalty in return.

TRINKETS VIXEN LOVES TO COLLECT.

ANTIQUE LIGHTERS  ⎯⎯ she has a collection of vintage lighters, each with a story behind it. Some were gifts, others she won in bets, and a few she simply took from people who didn't deserve them. her favorite is a sleek silver one with an engraving that no one but her knows the meaning of.

LIPSTICK CASES  ⎯⎯ she has a handful of elegant, old-fashioned lipstick cases made of gold or silver, some with intricate engravings. they remind her of a time when beauty was both a weapon and an art.

PLAYING CARDS  ⎯⎯ not just any deck—she keeps unique or rare playing cards from different places she's been. some are souvenirs, others were taken from men who underestimated her in a poker game. she always carries one ace in her pocket, just in case.

OLD POCKET WATCHES  ⎯⎯ she doesn't wear them, but she admires the craftsmanship. the ticking sound is oddly soothing to her, a reminder that time is always moving, even if she refuses to slow down.

BROKEN JEWELRY  ⎯⎯ a strange habit, but she finds beauty in pieces that are no longer whole—rings missing stones, snapped chains, earrings without a pair. she keeps them in a small velvet pouch, though she never explains why.

MATCHBOOKS FROM DIFFERENT CLUBS & BARS ⎯⎯ each one tells a story of a night well spent (or a night someone else would rather forget). she keeps them tucked away in a sleek black box, flipping through them when she's feeling nostalgic or restless.

HANDWRITTEN NOTES  ⎯⎯ she never lets on, but she keeps little notes people have written her—scribbled messages on cocktail napkins, a torn-out page from a book with a line underlined just for her. some are from PLAYBOY!DEAN, though she'd never admit it.

HER GRANDFATHER'S HANDCRAFTED KNIFE  ⎯⎯ this is the one possession she cherishes above all else. the knife was handcrafted and given to her by her grandfather when she was a little girl—a piece of him she still carries with her. the handle is worn smooth from years of use, designed beautifully in white, and the blade, though old, is still razor-sharp with intricate carvings. (it's more than a weapon to her; it's a reminder of where she came from, of the man who taught her to be strong, to never be defenseless.) she keeps it hidden, close to her at all times, a silent promise to herself that she'll never let anyone take advantage of her.

VIXEN'S SNAKE ⎯⎯ NYX.

VIXEN doesn't need a guard dog—she has NYX, a sleek, jet-black indigo snake with a sharp mind and an even sharper temperament. named after the Greek goddess of the night, NYX is just as mysterious and untouchable as his owner.

NYX IS FIERCELY LOYAL TO VIXEN  ⎯⎯ while most people wouldn't dare get close to a snake, NYX slithers comfortably around VIXEN'S shoulders or rests near her when she lounges in her private quarters. she's the only one who can handle him without getting a warning hiss.

HE'S SNIPPY WITH STRANGERS—BUT NEVER WITH THE BUNNIES  ⎯⎯ much like VIXEN, NYX doesn't warm up to just anyone. if a guest or an outsider gets too close, they'll be met with a sharp flick of his tongue, a subtle warning before he strikes. however, when it comes to the other bunnies, he's oddly calm, almost protective, as if he knows they are part of VIXEN'S inner circle.

HE'S ALWAYS NEAR WHEN VIXEN IS AROUND ⎯⎯ whether he's curled up in a dark corner of her room, slinking across her desk, or resting around her wrist like a living bracelet, NYX always seems to be watching. he moves silently, much like VIXEN herself, which unnerves people who aren't used to him.

PLAYBOY!DEAN ABSOLUTELY HATES HIM  ⎯⎯ not out of fear, of course, but because NYX has a habit of appearing out of nowhere, and PLAYBOY!DEAN swears VIXEN does it on purpose. there's a running joke in the mansion that the only thing that can make PLAYBOY!DEAN flinch is "that damn snake." VIXEN, of course, finds this endlessly amusing.

NYX IS INTELLIGENT & ALMOST SEEMS TO UNDERSTAND VIXEN'S MOODS  ⎯⎯ the snake is more than just a pet; he's an extension of VIXEN'S quiet, calculating nature. when she's irritated, he's more restless, coiling and uncoiling like he can sense her tension. when she's in control, he moves slowly, deliberately—just like her.

NYX is more than just an exotic pet—he's a reflection of VIXEN herself. sleek, dangerous, misunderstood, but loyal to those who earn his trust. just like his owner, he's not to be underestimated.

and when VIXEN sits in her private lounge, sipping wine and watching the world around her with that knowing smirk, NYX is always there, curled around her wrist like a shadow, a silent reminder that she is never truly alone.

᭡ ࣪ ۪ up next ! ֢ 𑂅 ִ ࣪ ⋆

☆ DOLLY known as ❝ STARLET ❞ ⎯⎯ coming 🔜

꒰୨୧꒱ special tags. @floralscented @bluemerakis @unfortunate-brat @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @lacydollette @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @ultravioletrayz @soldiersgirl @deanssun @frosttbitessam @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @jasvtsc @faiszt @sirenedeslily @rafesheaven @rafespreciosa @deanswidow @deansbite @voidsuites

✦ please let me know if u wanna be removed from tags !

[rizlowwritessortof]

Remember Me - Part 1

Michaela’s mundane life takes a strange turn when she has a random encounter with a very attractive stranger in her local bar. It must be déjà vu – or maybe it isn’t.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Michaela

Word Count: 2031

Warnings: None in Part 1, eventual smut

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

A shot and beer hit the bar in front of Michaela, and she handed a ten to the bartender with a vague smile and “Thank you.” It had been a very long week, so it was time to medicate a little and try to relax before going home to her too-quiet house.

The bar was almost always sparsely populated, and that night was no exception. She glanced around the room, finding nothing new to hold her attention, so she focused on the television playing “Wheel of Fortune” and downed her shot.

She and the bartender exchanged small talk – she didn’t really know her very well, but it passed the time. She was almost finished with her second beer, scrolling on her phone when the girl leaned over the bar to whisper in her ear. “Do you know that guy?”

She looked up at her, confused, and the bartender quirked her head to the right. She turned slowly, and it was as if time shifted down, sounds muted, her vision narrowing its focus to the tall, broad-shouldered stranger at the end of the bar. He was staring at her with fierce intensity, his eyes narrowed and his brows drawn together as if he was trying like hell to remember something.

She knew exactly how he felt.

It was right there, dancing around the outskirts of memory. He was definitely not the kind of man you’d forget, but she’d never seen him before, she’d swear to it. A nagging voice inside her head, though, was telling her it was a lie, that she should know him – that she did know him.

She slid off her bar stool and moved slowly towards him, irresistibly pulled into his orbit. Even in the dim light that faded most colors into nondescript greys and browns, his eyes were a striking shade of green. He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze and taking a step back, suddenly uncomfortable. She tilted her head, still looking at his face. “Do – do I know you from somewhere?”

He cleared his throat, leading into an awkward laugh. “Yeah, you look really familiar to me, too. Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare like a creeper.”

She leaned one elbow on the bar as he looked into her face again. “Seriously, I have the strangest feeling...”

He nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. I, uh…” He cleared his throat again, clearly nervous. “You wanna get a table? Maybe we can figure it out.”

She gnawed at her lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, just – let me grab my stuff.” He watched her walk away, grabbing the phone from his pocket and dialing.

“Sammy? Yeah, I’m at the bar, it’s Sandy’s or Randy’s or something. There’s a girl here… Yeah, very funny. No, Sam, I think there’s something weird going on. Witchy, or… I don’t know. Just come down here, see if you know this girl. Okay.” She watched him put his phone back into his pocket as she approached him, and he smiled. “Just letting my brother know where I am. You – ah – you want another beer?”

“Sure. Another beer sounds great, thanks.”

He motioned to the bartender, who acknowledged his waved bottle with a nod. He turned back to the table where Michaela had already claimed a spot, pulling out the chair across from her. “My name is Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Michaela Barrett. Nice to meet you. Or see you again. Whatever this is.” She smiled, a little self-conscious, and ducked her head down to look at the table, thanking the bartender for the beer as she closed her hand around it.

“I can’t believe I’d forget a smile like that,” Dean said softly, and she blushed, glancing up at him to catch the genuine confusion on his face. He wasn’t flirting. He was serious. She let her eyes roam over the contours of his face, the shape of his mouth, the breadth of his shoulders, then back to his eyes. He was looking right back at her, and she felt her face grow warm again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, I just – I can’t believe I’d forget you, either. This is so...”

“Insane?” He was smiling, and she responded in kind.

“Yeah. Kind of.” She looked up as the bell above the door rang, and her eyes widened a little. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Another stranger, very tall with shaggy dark hair, had entered the room, and she was having that weird feeling of recognition that she’d experienced with Dean, although not quite as intense.

Dean turned in his chair. “Sammy. Somebody I want you to meet.” Michaela watched as the man neared their table, his eyes never leaving her face. “Mikey, this is my brother, Sam.”

She stared at Dean, her eyes wide. “How did you know… I never told you I go by Mikey.”

Dean shifted self-consciously in his seat. “Michaela. This is Michaela Barrett.”

Sam nodded to her, returning her uncomfortable smile, and took a seat, looking at his brother in disbelief. “Okay, now I see what you mean. This is...”

“Crazy, we know,” Mikey interjected, looking into his face. “So you think you know me, too? Did you guys used to live here?”

Dean shook his head. “I’ve never been here. Have you ever been in Kansas? Or South Dakota?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve lived in Ohio my whole life. I’ve never been out of this state. Except maybe a trip when I was a kid or something, but otherwise...” She took several swallows of her beer and took a deep breath, blowing it out between her lips. “I’m freaking out a little. I’m – I’ll be right back.” She stood suddenly, pushing her chair back and rushing towards the restrooms in the back. Sam turned an incredulous look on his brother.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“I know! I have no idea. You think something witchy?” His quizzically raised eyebrows slowly lowered themselves into a frown as Sam watched.

“What?”

“Something witchy? Or something angel-y.”

Sam’s expression tightened as well as he met Dean’s glare. “Shit. You think?”

“I think we need to talk to Cas. See if he knows anything. Tonight.”

“I agree.”

Mikey made her way slowly back to the table, and Dean watched with concern as she took her seat, her hands shaking a little. “Hey, Michaela – you okay?”

“Really – Mikey’s okay.” Dean’s lips twitched into a one-sided smile and he nodded. “I just… this has me spun out a little. I think I need to go home. Can I give you my number, maybe we can talk again?”

“Yeah, sure. And I’ll give you mine.” He looked intently into her eyes as she handed him her phone. “We’ll figure this out. We will.” They exchanged phone numbers, and then they all headed out to the small parking lot. “Sure you’re okay to drive home?” Dean asked as he walked her to her car. She nodded, looking up at him with a lost expression.

“I’m okay. I’m cold sober right now. And besides, my place is just a few blocks, so - not like I have far to go. I just wish I knew what was happening.”

“If we figure anything out, we’ll let you know, I promise. Be careful.”

He leaned in, his hand on her face, and kissed her. Sam stared in shock, harshly whispering, “Dean!” and watching his brother jerk away from her as if he’d been burned.

Dean looked at Sam, his eyes wide, then back to Mikey, who was blinking up at him with her mouth open. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

She closed her mouth and swallowed hard, her fingers brushing over her lips. “I – um – it’s okay. I mean, funny thing is, it was like… like I almost expected it? Like it was – kind of normal.” She turned back to her car, pulling the door open and getting behind the wheel. “Okay, well… don’t forget to call if you… you know.”

“We will. G’night.” Sam raised his hand in a little wave, and she backed out, then headed down the street, Dean still staring after her.

“Dean, what the hell?”

“Sammy, I don’t know. It just happened, I didn’t even think about it. She’s not the only one who’s spun out over this.” He jerked the driver’s side door open. “I need some sleep, and we need to talk to Cas ASAP. I’m going nuts, here.”

The next morning dawned grey and rainy, and Mikey dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Dean had called, wanting to stop over and bring a friend of theirs to meet her, and she agreed, although she couldn’t see how he would be able to help. It was all just too strange, and the dreams she’d had the night before didn’t set her mind at ease.

When she answered the door, Sam and Dean were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee, bacon and cinnamon rolls hot out of the oven, and it took effort for Dean not to pull her in for a bear hug when he saw the food set out on the large coffee table.

“So, where’s this friend of yours?” she asked after they had filled their plates, watching Dean’s enthusiasm for the food with a smile.

“He’s meeting us here. Should be coming soon.”

“So – how is he going to help? I mean, is he a hypnotist or something? I don’t understand...”

Dean and Sam exchanged a cautious glance, and Dean turned to face her. “Well, we should really have a talk. Some of it’s gonna sound a little weird.”

“Weird. Weird like the dream I had last night, you and I fighting some kind of monsters with sharp teeth, chopping their heads off? And a whole trunk full of weapons in that car of yours? I think I must be losing my mind,” Mikey laughed, and then let the smile melt from her face at the brothers’ expressions. “What?”

Dean stood up, holding out a hand. “Come with me, Mikey.” She stared at him warily for a second, then took his hand and let him lead her out to the trunk of the Impala. He unlocked and opened it, then stepped back, watching her eyes widen at the sight.

“What the fuck.” The color was draining from her face, and Dean took hold of her arm.

“I seriously think maybe we’d better sit down for this.” He led her back into the house to the sofa, seating her there and taking a place beside her.

“Dean, I don’t understand...”

“Sam and I – we hunt monsters, Mikey. Like the kind you dreamed about. Those were probably vampires, they’ve got a mouth full of sharp teeth, not the two fangs like in the movies. And beheading is how you kill them.”

“Vampires.”

“Yeah.” Her face was white, and Dean reached for her hand. “Mikey, breathe.”

“You’re telling me vampires are real.”

“And a lot of other things. Most people don’t know they exist, unless they’re unlucky enough to run into them. But they’re out there, and my brother and I take care of them. Save people from them, as much as we can. And I think, maybe, that you used to hunt with us.”

“You think I used to help you cut the heads off monsters.”

“And I think somehow that our memories got erased. Possibly by an angel.”

She stared at him as if broccoli had just sprouted from his ear. “Sure. Probably. I mean, who else would erase our memories but an angel?” A firm knock sounded at the door, and she pulled her hand from Dean’s, going to the door and continuing as she opened it, still looking back at Dean. “You’re being serious right now? I’m not still having one of my weird dreams?” She turned to face the visitor still standing at the door, staring into his very blue eyes for a frozen second, then almost tripping over her feet as she scrambled backward in terror, moving behind the sofa to stand behind Dean. “Stay away from me!”

Cas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Hello, Michaela.”

Tags for my lovelies: 

 @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog 

   @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel  

  @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5  

  @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog   

        @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain  

  @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie 

   @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic  

  @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma   

 @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1   

 @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed  

  @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 

 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  

 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies  @ladysparkles78  

@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl

[shadowtail32]

Domestic (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Just a little moment between Dean and Y/n after a hunt.

Y/n grumbled as she flopped down on the cheap and lumpy bed of their hotel room, “Never again.” She groaned aloud into the musty covers under her body. “Oh come on Y/n it wasn’t that bad,” Dean called from behind her as he closed the door behind him. “I have never hated anything more in my entire life than digging an entire grave by hand only to find out the damn thing is empty.” She hissed removing her face from the comfort of the blankets to glare at him. Dean sighed leaning back against the closed door holding his hands up in surrender. “How was I supposed to know the grave was empty.” He spoke loudly as he returned his own heated glare at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes, forcing her tired body into a sitting position so she could look at him head-on. “I never said it was your fault,” She began crossing her arms over her chest as she placed her feet flat on the floor wincing when she realized that she had neglected to remove her muddy boots from her feet. “I just said I would not be doing that again.” She elaborated with a sigh as she began untying her boots.

Dean’s only response was a hum and nod as he pushed his body up and away from the door, “Fair enough.” He muttered tiredly as he sank into the bed across from her. “Help.” She asked with a pout as she held up her foot toward him. Dean sighed though he could not hide the soft smile that began to form on his lips. “Sure.” He breathed rolling his eyes as he took her offered foot in his hands and began untying them. “Thank you.” She mumbled offering him a small smile as she leaned to the side on her hand.

“Any word from Sam?” She asked after a moment of silence as she watched him work slowly and carefully unlacing the boot. Dean hummed shaking his head a small frown took over his lips. “Not yet.” He answered shortly as he gently pulled the boot from her foot, placing it on the floor at the side of the bed. Y/n hummed placing her bootless foot on the ground, lifting the other into the air. “I’m sure he is just enjoying himself.” She spoke with a small shrug as she watched him repeat the previous actions with the other foot.

Dean chuckled shaking his head taking a moment to look at her before looking back down at her foot in his hands. “You think good old college boy Sam is really going to let loose and enjoy himself in a bar?” He asked the laughter clear in his voice as he pulled the boot off and placed it on the ground next to its partner, though he placed her foot on his knee resting his hand on her ankle.

“Yes, I mean he can’t be college boy Sam all the time.” She said laying back on the bed with a soft sigh as he began lightly messaging her foot. “You never know,” She began in a teasing tone a yawn interrupting her thoughts for a moment. “He may even end up going home with a girl.” Y/n whispered in a conspiratorial tone a small smile making itself known on her lips as her eyes began to droop another yawn forcing its way past her lips.

Y/n listened as Dean began to laugh, “That would be something.” He managed to get out between bellowing laughs, “Want to make a bet?” He asked as he stood up from his bed gently picking up her other foot, turning her lower body until all of her was laying comfortably on the bed on top of the covers. "How much?” She asked as she allowed her eyes to fully close with a soft sigh. “Twenty bucks” He answered softly as he climbed in next to her pulling her to him until her back was flush against his chest.

“Deal.” She mumbled back as she allowed herself to fall into the sweet darkness of sleep.

[rubyvhs]

I’LL SURELY DIE

pairing. dean w x oc and sam w x oc.

wc. ongoing

summary. the rhodes were a happy family of hunters, usually moving from one motel to another and teaching their daughters all they know about the world of the paranormal, from vampires to wendigos, the girls were properly educated. they often hunted alone even. one day their parents left for a hunt and never came back. the two girls spent years trying to understand what happened, calling everyone they know, asking all the right questions, until they decide to go after the people who killed their parents. the winchesters are in for a very subtle surprise.

tags. kinda post-season 9, bobby’s still alive, witchy things, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers

notes. really old story that I totally forgot existed, mostly didn’t post because I know oc doesn’t do too well but i’ve always wanted to write a love story for both brothers with sisters so here we are. keep the cheesy comments away from me, i know what I am.

— meet melissa and mary rhodes

[ act one ]

꩜ .ᐟ looking back

꩜ .ᐟ remember?

꩜ .ᐟ the sky is black & white

[ act two ]

꩜ .ᐟ cycles

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope Masterlist:

Prologue: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763735074150727680/hope-prologue-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763736293395005440/hope-chapter-1-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763744465993220096/hope-chapter-2-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763746058717315072/hope-chapter-3-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763746896157310976/hope-chapter-4-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 5: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763748227864477696/hope-chapter-5-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 6: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763771530276634624/hope-chapter-6-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 7: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763772956510978048/hope-chapter-7-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 8: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763774406717800448/hope-chapter-8-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 9: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763795158619865088/hope-chapter-9-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 10: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763796634203226112/hope-chapter-10-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 11: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763798239994609664/hope-chapter-11-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 12: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763798916039852032/hope-chapter-12-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 13: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763834835953418241/hope-chapter-13-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 14: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763835988477984768/hope-chapter-14-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 15: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763884000870809600/hope-chapter-15-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 16: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763887279961964544/hope-chapter-16-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 17: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763889631318196224/hope-chapter-17-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 18: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763891731862355968/hope-chapter-18-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 19: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763902361728122880/hope-chapter-19-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 20: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763922720759103489/hope-chapter-20-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 21: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763924835097313280/hope-chapter-21-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 22: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763925827339567104/hope-chapter-22-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 23: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763984996430151680/hope-chapter-23-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 24: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763986542620475392/hope-chapter-24-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 25: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763987840333905920/hope-chapter-25-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 26: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763999676891643904/hope-chapter-26-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 27: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764012047130296321/hope-chapter-27-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 28: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764014981552504832/hope-chapter-28-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 29: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764020854887776256/hope-chapter-29-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 30: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764022679115268096/hope-chapter-30-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 31: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764271684324835328/hope-chapter-31-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 32: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764278090999431168/hope-chapter-32-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 33: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764411047679524864/hope-chapter-33-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 34: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764713390052655104/hope-chapter-34-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 35: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764976308699660288/hope-chapter-35-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 36: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/765513493831090176/hope-chapter-36-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 37: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/766387077962203136/hope-chapter-37-summary-dean-and-sam

[aylacavebear]

The Curse That Changed Your Life - Part 1 Chapter 2

You were just a regular, ordinary woman in your twenties working at the Gas N’ Sip. Life was simple and boring, and you liked it that way. It wasn’t until some strange woman came to your store, mumbled some Latin under her breath, that everything changed. So, you did the only thing you could think of with your new appearance, became a dancer at a club far from the town you grew up in. But what will you do when the green-eyed FBI agent starts asking questions?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2815

Warnings: Angst, Slow-Burn, Death, Dashed Hopes - severe depression, Spell Ingredients, Charlie being nosy (yes, this is a warning).

A/N: This one played through my mind while listening to Cherry Pie one day on my way to work.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

That first month at the bunker was interesting, to say the least. Dean had done his best to keep his comments to himself and only ogle you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. That hadn’t lasted long. 

It had happened the first day and only an hour after you’d been awake. He’d opened his mouth and said something, but before he could even realize what he’d said, you’d made it to the other side of the table and slapped him. All you remembered at this point was that it had something to do with your ass and the way it looked in your shorts. Sam was dying of laughter before you’d left the kitchen to enjoy your coffee in the library.

The bunker, on the other hand, was fascinating. It was massive and held tons of information on the things that went bump in the night. The facilities alone had your jaw on the floor. 

You also couldn’t count how many times Sam apologized for his brother’s behavior. You shrugged it off, though, explaining you wouldn’t tolerate it and Dean would eventually stop. Sam attempted to explain how stubborn his brother was, but you simply told him that he could exercise some manners.

Near the end of the first week, you met Eileen. She was sweet and kind, which you were thankful for. However, you were surprised to learn she was deaf and wished you knew sign language. She had decided to stay at the bunker while trying to figure out this witch business.

Charlie was energetic. It was the only way you could describe her when she showed up. She said something about having to see you with her own eyes, which was when you learned she was into games and things like LARPing. She showed up a couple of days later.

She bombarded you with questions, most of which you didn’t mind answering. It was the other ones that she had gotten persistent with that you just said no to without giving her a real reason. So, after almost three weeks, she was getting a little whiny about it as the five of you sat around the tables in the library, pouring through books.

“Please. I’ll be gentle,” Charlie begged you again to touch your tail.

“Charlie, I’d rather you didn’t, and let's leave it at that,” you replied with your nose still stuck in the book in front of you.

“How come?” she pouted.

You sighed, “It’s… personal, okay.”

“Pleeeaassseeee,” she whined, making you groan.

They’d been back from a supply run for about four hours now, and you were pretty sure you’d have to give her something more than just a ‘no’ to her incessant begging.

Without even looking up from your book, you answered her flatly, “I’m not into girls, and it’s rather sensitive.”

“Oh,” Charlie replied, somewhat surprised. Then she got curious again, “Are your ears like that too?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Yes. Now, can we drop the topic?”

Dean was thankful that you were more focused on the book and not him. It had been ridiculously hard not to make remarks about your looks, let alone keep his expression from giving away what he was thinking about. Now, he was beyond curious and even more interested in you, in a far more physical way than you wanted to have with him.

“Yeah,” Charlie began, and just as she was about to go back to her book, she looked back over at you. “Wait. Do you go into heat like a cat, too?”

“How the hell do you get away with asking her that, but I can’t?” Dean complained loudly.

You’d had enough at that point. You understood they were curious just how cat-like you were, but that one had hit your last nerve. Without a word, you grabbed your book, the mostly full bottle of whiskey, and went to your room, slamming the door behind you.

“What’d I say?” Charlie asked, fairly confused.

“Pretty sure she doesn’t want to discuss her personal stuff with anyone, Charlie,” Sam chuckled, his nose still stuck in his book. He’d stayed out of the conversation, as had Eileen.

“But, why’d she have to take my whiskey?” Dean pouted, looking at his mostly empty glass now, making Sam laugh at him, again.

None of them had an answer for him, and you weren’t about to go back out there to tell him you needed something to drown out your thoughts and the overwhelming emotions. You slipped the pieces of cotton in your ears before getting comfortable on your bed with the book.

As you read, you sipped the whiskey. It was yet another book on witches and spells. You weren’t even sure how many you’d read through in the last almost five days. Mostly, you glazed over the ingredients of spells but paid attention to the important details.

An hour later, though, you were now sitting up, reading the same spell for the fifth time, and your heart was pounding in your chest. It was a spell to summon the witch that had cursed you. It was the witch’s love of sweets that you instantly recognized within the wording. You realized the main reason you had to help the brothers in this regard: the spell itself called for your blood and some hair of your feline features. The problem was that there was a high likelihood you’d be stuck like you were, and that was because of how far the physical changes had gone. 

Great!

You slammed the book shut and just sat there thinking about your predicament. Within minutes, though, your conscience got the better of you. Opening the book back up to the spell, you returned to the library.

“Here, Sam. I found the spell, and yes, you can use my blood,” you grumbled, plopping the book down on the table in front of him.

All of them jumped a little, their eyes on Sam, you, and the book that Sam was now reading. He only glanced at you briefly, and you knew he’d read about the warning.

“Hey, can I have my whiskey back?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, going back to your room.

More than half the bottle was gone at this point, and you took one more swig before you returned to the library and set it in front of him.

“Sorry about drinking so much. I’ll pay for more,” you told him somberly before returning to your room.

So much for ever being normal again.

The thought was depressing. You hadn’t wanted to hope, but it had gotten the better of you, and now, you were somewhat depressed. Your entire body felt heavy as you climbed into bed, not even bothering to change your clothes and turned off the light.

Back in the Library…

“You gonna share, Sam?” Dean asked, still looking toward the hallway where you’d gone.

“Well, the good news is we can summon the witch. The bad news,” he sighed, “She might be stuck that way.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eileen asked.

“Not unless we involve Rowena, and even that could be risky according to this,” Sam explained, “Even if we kill this witch, it might not break the curse.”

“I thought that was how all curses were broken, by killing the witch,” Charlie questioned, now confused.

“If her body was changed too much—more like a cat than a human—killing the witch wouldn’t turn her back. Then there’s the other problem. Trying to break that curse could kill her,” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“So, she’s stuck like that?” Eileen asked.

“Probably,” Sam sighed, glancing toward the hallway. He probably felt the worst for the situation you had ended up in.

Dean didn’t make a single comment or snarky remark. He actually felt bad, too. It was sort of fun to tease you a bit about your cat features, but now, he really did feel bad. He had found you utterly attractive from the missing person’s reports. Then, seeing you with cat ears and a tail, he could barely think straight.

Now, though, after spending a month with you and getting to know you a little more, his interest had gone further than your looks. He still somehow wanted to help you, even if you couldn’t be normal again. 

“So, we gonna summon this bitch tonight or tomorrow?” Charlie asked, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Probably tomorrow. We should all get some rest,” Sam replied.

The following day…

You may have woken early, but you stayed curled in bed.

Why did I have to get my hopes up?

The room was dark, but seeing in shades of grey kept it from ever looking like the blackness you remembered the dark looking like. The cotton was still in your ears. You’d discovered that trick a week after you’d changed, thankful it made things sound normal again.

Grabbing your phone off the night table, you glanced at the date and rolled your eyes, knowing that your monthly cycle would hit you in a day or two. It was mostly like you’d had when you were human, but since you’d changed, so had it. 

You groaned, turning off your phone and putting your face in your pillow, not wanting to get out of bed. 

It’s gonna be a long week.

Perhaps you fell back asleep or just zoned out, but you weren’t quite sure. A knock on your door pulled your attention to it sometime later.

“Come in,” you mumbled loud enough for whoever it was to hear you.

Someone gingerly opened it and stepped partway inside, holding the door halfway open, “Did you want some coffee? Or, are you gonna sleep the day away?”

It was Sam, and you sighed silently, “Coffee,” you mumbled.

He came over and sat on the side of the bed, “I’m sorry about all this. We’re going to keep looking for a way to try to change you back, okay?” 

“It’s okay,” you replied somberly, rolling over to look at him.

Sam noticed how low your ears were drooping. After hours of research on cats, he learned that your ears and tail always revealed precisely how you were feeling. He had no clue how to ease the sadness you were going through, though.

“Come on. There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Sam said, giving you one of those compassionate smiles that made you smile, even if just a little.

“All right. Lemme change, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you replied.

He left you to change, and then you headed into the kitchen. It was past nine already, and all of them were awake. Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t get your ears to stop drooping or your tail to show anything other than the defeat you’d found yourself in.

After grabbing a cup of coffee, you joined the four of them in the library, making sure not to step on the symbol they’d drawn on the floor. One of the library tables had what looked like an altar with a bowl, ingredients, and candles, but you barely glanced at it. 

“You want to drink that first or summon this bitch and watch her burn?” Charlie asked, trying to help you feel better.

All you did was shrug your shoulders. You stood next to Sam and looked down into the bowl before you looked up at him and held out one of your hands. 

“If you’d rather do it-” Sam began, but you cut him off.

“Just, do it, and let's get this over with,” you told him.

He sighed, “How about you cut the hair from your tail? Then I’ll do the cut on your hand if you’d like.”

You gave him a small smile before taking the blade, cutting some of the hair from your tail, and placing it in the bowl. But when it came time to cut your hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and handed Sam back the knife and looked away when he made the cut. That hurt like hell, and you hissed the moment it pierced your skin.

Balling your hand into a fist, you turned it sideways, letting the blood drain down and into the bowl, mixing with the other ingredients. Then, Dean came close and wrapped your hand in a handkerchief. 

There was something gentle about his touch and the softness in his expression, even though he never looked directly at you. His focus was on your hand and securing the handkerchief securely without hurting you.

You stood back, your gaze on the symbol on the floor, while the other four stood near each other. Sam spoke the spell in Latin. After that, he tossed a lit match into the bowl as orange smoke swirled up and through the air.

For a moment, you blinked blankly at the woman who appeared inside the symbol. She resembled the woman you saw a year and a half ago, but there were so many differences. The biggest one was that she looked far younger than she had.

“Oh, there’s the kitten I lost,” she cooed, looking over at you, and her smile again creeped you out. When her eyes met the four others, she quickly frowned, “Winchesters.”

“Turn her back,” Dean growled, and it surprised you that those were his first words to her.

The witch's expression went to utter amusement, “Can’t. Sorry. She’s stuck that way. I’m just surprised the spell didn’t fully take.”

“What? Was she supposed to turn into an actual cat?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Quite interesting,” the witch mused, now standing as close to the edge of the symbol as possible, looking you over. “I need to find out why the spell didn’t work, and how to fix it so you do turn into a cat. I need a loyal familiar.”

You felt sick, and her words made your skin crawl. With as close as she was, Eileen slapped a pair of cuffs on her. They’d explained that the cuffs would keep her from using any sort of magic, and it was for all of their safety.

“You’re going to undo the spell. Turn her back into a human,” Dean growled again, and you couldn’t quite figure out why he seemed so adamant all of a sudden. His tone almost felt more than just trying to help someone.

The witch just rolled her eyes, “I told you. The spell can’t be reversed. All I can do is make it so that she turns the rest of the way into a cat, and my loyal familiar. So, take these off, and I can get started.”

“Then we don’t need to keep you alive,” Eileen told her, crossing her arms.

For the moment, all you could do was stand there, lost in your thoughts at the witch’s revelation. You had enough trouble having the features and qualities of a cat that you did. You had no desire to be an actual cat, let alone the witch’s familiar. 

You didn’t hear any of the rest of the conversation between the five of them and, at this point, had backed up to one of the chairs, sitting down. With your mind racing with thoughts and too many emotions coursing through your body, it was the gunshot that made you jump. 

Looking up in just enough time to see the witch’s body hit the floor as the light faded from her eyes. Dean crouched in front of you while the others began cleaning up. He was attempting to talk to you, but you didn’t hear him. When he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, you finally refocused on reality and looked down at him, still in a state of shock.

“You with me, Sweetheart?” he asked, slightly loudly, making sure he had your attention. You nodded, as making words wasn’t working at the moment. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t turn you back. We’ll keep looking until we can find a way.”

The sadness and despair hit you like a ton of bricks, your gaze going to your hands in your lap and away from Dean. You sniffled quietly as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Even when Dean put his hand over yours, you couldn’t look at him.

He sighed heavily, stood, kissed the top of your head, and then began helping the others with clean up. You weren’t sure how long you had sat there before you finally made your way to your room, fell into your bed, and cried yourself to sleep. You also didn’t care about much at the moment.

You’d hoped there would have been a way you could be human again and have a normal life. That hope had grown over the last month, and now, your world felt like it fell in on itself, and some darkness was going to swallow you whole. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3

Series Master List Part 1 Master List Part 2 Master List Past 3 Master List Main Master List

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know in a comment.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @zaratahir @jc-winchester @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @kindollss

[deanoheartspie]

SUN•SHINE COMING SOON!!

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: smut, cussing, angst.

Taglist: (Open!!)

Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

•°•°•°•°•SNEAK PEAK°•°•°•°•°•°

“You look beautiful in that dress darlin' Gimmie a little spin” Dean has a boyish grin, while he leans against the old bed frame.

Giving the cowboy a little spin, with a laugh escaping your lips as you tilt your fake imaginary cowgirl hat. “Y'know I could always give ya' a hat” He stands up, the floorboards creaking at every step he takes while he looks over at his hats deciding on a nice plain white one.

“Why the white one?” You ask, with a hint of a smile knowing he had to grow through his whole process of deciding which one to give you.

“Because after tonight darlin', your gonna be my bride”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Dean's always loved books. (OR: You know how Dean Winchester is an autodidact who built an EMF machine out of a Walkman, got his GED just because, knows the difference and nuances in Vonnegut's works, is good at strategy and LARPs, easily references Tolstoy and ancient Greek fables, has a favorite Zeppelin song that's about a book, and has a huge pop culture knowledge base because he soaks up everything like a sponge? Me too. And you know how Supernatural usually wants us to pretend that's not true? Yeah ... how about fuck that? A #DeanStudies fic that proposes Dean has an interior life, a brain in his head, and the urge to do better. Oh and, of course, it fixes the finale!)

Author: fairy_tale_echo

Note from submitter: Dean reads agenda!!!

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for @jacklesversebingo.

**Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Racism, angst, violence, protective Dean, eventual smut, perilous situations, fluff and spice, along with other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The Spirit Soundtrack

Chapters:

Part 1 - Pride & Prejudice

Part 2 - Death & Sacrifice

Part 3 - Worthy

Series Complete!

Sequel Stories:

Outlander

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

Series Complete!

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

A “podfic” is where you can listen to the story narrated - in this case by my amazing friend Sandra - @talltalesandbedtimestories.

Listen to Part 1 -

Listen to Part 2 -

Listen to Part 3 -

Join My Patreon 🌟 For early access to new stories, bonus content, first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

Comment below if you'd like to be tagged in this series! 💜

Or follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter.

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @iamsapphine

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@mrlonelycat @sanscas @spnexploration @tmb510 @fromcaintodean

[phoenixwritesfanfiction]

Hey everyone! I hope you're all doing well!

Here's a snippet from the latest installment of my fic:

Halfway across, my skin prickled; a shiver clinked down my spine like a rattling chain. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to find someone, but there was nothing—save for a few birds that landed on the railing and hurriedly flew away when their feet got too cold. 

Relieved, I exhaled a deep breath. The chill bit at my lungs, but it cleared my mind. I shook off the strange feeling and moved on.

About a mile from my house, I spotted a noisy snow plow in the distance and frowned. If I kept going this way, I’d get covered in the sludgy ice it sprayed. Not wanting to risk getting sick, I veered into the woods. Snow coated the branches and blanketed the ground, snuffling out their vibrant colors. 

Not far in, my spine tingled again, but it fanned out across my entire body this time. When I took my eyes off the ground to look for the source of the feeling, my boot caught on a hidden root, and I stumbled, barely managing to right myself before falling into the snow. 

Just as I straightened, a large, dark shadow slipped behind a nearby tree. 

My breath hitched. I froze. 

Then, the sharp snap of a twig echoed through the woods, setting my pulse racing. Whatever was out there wasn’t just in my imagination. 

[randommultifandomrants]

I just finished the most well written soul shattering Dean Winchester fan fiction and I wish I hadn’t . OH MY GOSH IT WAS SO GOOD. It ended way too soon for my liking. If you want to read it it’s on wattpad it’s called ‘As it was’ - smmcwrites. Please check it out and show the creator some love, it’s so good I absolutely loved it! I legit read it all in 2 1/2 days and I regret finishing so quickly ugh 😣 I need to forget about it then come back and re read it.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Remember Me - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Michaela

Word Count: 2272

Warnings: None in Part 3, eventual smut

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

“Dean, I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush to get home. Michaela could use your help with the whole memories thing, and…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy, can you drop it already?” Dean reached for the radio and turned it off with an angry twist. Sam had been riding his ass for the last fifteen minutes and he was about to explode. “She needs to get back to her normal life, and the longer we hang around, the more fucked up she’s gonna get.”

“You’re running away.” Sam stared at his brother, that stubborn, accusing stare on his face that made Dean want to punch him.

“Fine. Whatever. You think what you want. I’m trying to do what’s best for her.”

“Since when do you get to decide what’s best for other people?”

“Since I’m the reason her life got fucked up to begin with. She deserves to have a life without monsters and angels and death waiting around every goddamn corner!”

“And your feelings for her have nothing to do with why you’re leaving.”

“Sam, if you don’t shut your pie hole, you’re gonna be walking back to Kansas.” Dean cranked the radio back on, too loud for further conversation, and Sam let out a frustrated sigh as he reached to moderate the volume. He shook his head, but gave up for the moment, turning to stare out the window. He had pushed as far as he dared to for the moment, but if Dean thought he was giving up, he was wrong. He wasn’t going to let this go.

They had stopped at Michaela’s place a couple of hours before they left town, and Sam had stayed mostly silent, observing her and Dean and their awkward interactions with each other. Sam had sensed something in the air between them, the conversation between the two of them was formal and uncomfortable, and Mikey had given them each an almost reluctant hug before they had left.

Dean hadn’t filled him in on much from the night he spent with her, except that she had remembered meeting Zachariah and how badly it had frightened her. But when he had returned to their motel room afterwards, he had been withdrawn and silent, responding to his questions with terse, vague answers and downing several whiskeys. He had barely spoken, focusing his attention on the laptop and then falling into bed by ten that night. And Sam had heard him tossing and turning, Mikey’s name mumbled in his sleep more than once.

Yeah, Dean could try to convince him he was doing this because it was best for Mikey – but that was bullshit.

Mikey forced herself to get up the next morning and go to work. Just get back into the routine, and everything will get back to normal, she told herself.

Except for the dreams. The memories that were coming back to haunt her, some bloody and a little frightening, but most were just what she guessed had been their normal life. Dean helping her in the kitchen, laughter and teasing; riding in the Impala, sometimes in the back seat with Sam and Dean in front, and sometimes in front with Dean, his arm draped around her shoulders; conversations with the Winchesters and an older man with a beard, Bobby, that she apparently had been very fond of in that time. And all of it laced through with love and affection right along with the monsters and horror.

With everything that had happened and the knowledge that the life she was living had been manufactured for her by Zachariah, she was aching for the ‘normal’ of the past that was slowly coming back to her, the memories vivid and full of life and adventure. In comparison, her life seemed colorless, monotonous.

She called Dean a few times, but he always seemed busy - polite, but distant, and she couldn’t say it didn’t sting. “Look, I know it’s been crazy,” he’d say, “but you’re better off, you’re safe. No supernatural bullshit to deal with.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was just meant to live a mundane existence and leave the past in the past. He obviously was. Or he didn’t want to deal with her drama. But the dreams, the memories kept coming, almost every night, and those feelings seemed as fresh and real to her now as they had then. So how was she supposed to just let it go? She forced herself to keep going, and several weeks went by, but she still felt the same restlessness, the same unhappiness with – well, with everything.

After she woke one morning sobbing into her pillow, she gave up on trying to be self-reliant and called Dean’s number. She had waited until she showered and calmed herself down, but the dream-memory had been gut-wrenching, Sam and Bobby telling her Dean was dead and had been dragged to hell. How was she supposed to deal with that? She hung up when his voice mail picked up, but called him again right away, and finally she heard the call connect.

“Hello? Michaela? Hey, it’s Sam.”

“Sam? I was trying… I – I just needed to talk to someone about…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to call. I know I’m driving him crazy.”

“You’re not, Mikey. Honestly, I think he’s having a hard time with all of this, too, even though he won’t really talk about it. But if you need to talk, you can call me, too, any time.” Sam could hear her blow out a shaky breath, trying to stay in control.

“I can’t keep doing this, Sam. My whole life feels surreal, like I’m in the damn matrix or something, like none of it is really – real. I’m losing my mind here.” There was dead silence for a moment, then she heard Dean’s voice.

“Hey, Mikey.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was in the shower. I heard what you said.” She heard him sigh. “I’m sorry, I thought putting some distance between us would help, but apparently I was wrong about that.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Listen, why don’t you take some time off, come down for a visit. Maybe we can try to fill in the blanks, help you make sense of the memories that are coming back.”

“I don’t want to invade your space...”

“There’s plenty of room here, Mikey.” Sam spoke up. “But there’s a motel in town, if you’d rather stay there, whatever you’re comfortable with. We’re just outside of Lebanon, Kansas.”

“Thank you. Thank you both. I just – I need to understand the past before I can move on, I think.”

Dean sounded softer than he had since leaving Ohio. “We’ll do our best to help. Just give us a call when you hit town and we’ll give you directions to get here.”

A few days later she arrived, and after a tour of the bunker, they got her settled into one of the many rooms. “You let us know when you’re ready to talk, and we’ll grab some beers and dig in,” Dean said with a vague smile, then left her to unpack.

He made his way back to the library where Sam sat, laptop open in front of him. “Is she doing okay?”

Dean nodded. “I think so. I still don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Sam looked up. “Does she know you’re having dreams, too?”

Dean’s jaw twitched a little as he sent a surly glance Sam’s direction. “No. How would that help?”

“If this is going to work, you need to be honest with her, Dean. The only way you two are gonna get past all this is to be honest with each other.”

“Because you’re an expert on erased memories and how to deal with ‘em.”

“I’m not an expert, but I know you both have feelings for each other that have never been resolved, Dean. They’re not just going to disappear. And just because you don’t want them to be there, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“And how the fuck do you know if I have feelings or not?”

“Because I’ve heard you when you’re dreaming. I’ve heard you say her name, and I’ve heard how you say her name.”

“Invasion of privacy, Sam.” He stalked off towards the kitchen, and Sam rolled his eyes, returning to what he had been reading on his laptop.

Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge, still fuming at his brother’s words. And the fact that it was true made it that much worse. He’d been dreaming of Mikey ever since they’d gotten home, a few times involving hunting with her, or riding with her in Baby. But most of the time he woke still hearing her moan his name as she came, feeling her soft skin beneath his hands or his cock buried deep inside her. He tried to tell himself the feelings he was fighting were just echoes from the past, but that was getting harder each time it happened.

She was better off miles away from him and from the life he lived. She was out, and hard experience told him she would live much longer if she stayed out. How he felt didn’t matter. He took several swallows from his beer, trying to wash down the lies he was telling himself.

Mikey came out of her room a couple of hours later, still feeling awkward and self-conscious, but she couldn’t stay in there forever. She managed to make her way to the library, where the brothers were just setting out plates for the pizza Sam had just returned with. Dean smiled and held up a beer with a questioning brow, and she nodded, heading for a chair and taking a seat as he set the cold brew in front of her. “Pepperoni and veggie, whichever you like,” he said, taking a seat across from her and beside his brother.

“Sounds great, I’m starving,” she said, helping herself to a slice of each.

They just chatted as they ate, and she was much more relaxed by the time they finished. Dean fetched them each another beer and settled back in his chair, his eyes on Mikey. “So – when you called the other day, you sounded pretty upset.”

She nodded. “I was. I dreamed that Sam and the older guy you told me was Bobby were coming to tell me that you were dead. That you got dragged to hell by a hellhound. I woke up crying.”

Dean dropped his head, staring at the table as he nodded. “Yeah. Understandable.”

“So maybe we should just kind of fill you in on our history. If you have any questions, you can just jump in,” Sam said softly, and Mikey nodded in agreement.

A couple of hours and a couple more beers later, they had gone over everything up to the point Mikey had been taken by the angels, and several of her questions had been answered. At least now if she had a dream about something unfamiliar, she’d be able to fit it in with events they had told her about.

She curled up in bed that night, wondering what came next. Now that the Winchesters had given her the missing pieces that helped her make sense of her memories, there wasn’t really a reason to stay. And even though Dean had been nothing but kind, he still kept his distance, and she knew he wouldn’t relax until she was gone. She rolled to her back, staring at the ceiling. It was clear that he wanted their relationship left in the past.

She got up after trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep for almost two hours, throwing an oversized button-down shirt over her tank top and sleep shorts and heading for the kitchen for a bottle of water. She had just started down the hall when Dean’s voice, shouting her name, made her jump and turn back, rushing towards his bedroom door.

She hesitated for a second, then opened his door, walking in to find him standing beside his bed, his eyes a little wild. She approached him, reaching out to touch his hand, and he focused his stare on her before letting his eyes drift closed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his chest heaving, then kissed her so desperately that she was dizzy when he stopped. “I couldn’t find you. You were just gone.”

“It’s okay, Dean, I’m here. It was a dream.” She could feel his heart pounding, and he took a couple of deep breaths before he took hold of her shoulders and moved her back a step.

“Sorry.” He moved away from her, dragging a hand over his face. “Seemed so real.”

“The memory of when I was taken?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it had to be.” He turned to look at her. “No wonder your dreams freaked you out if they’ve all been that intense.”

“Yes, the memories of big events have been.” She moved closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Is this the first one you’ve had?”

Dean exhaled sharply and shook his head. “No. But this is the only one I’ve had that’s been like this. Mostly they’re just – of you and me.”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah – I’ve had a lot of those.” She reached up to put a hand to his face. “Dean, I…”

“Mikey, you should go.” He stepped away from her, moving to sit on his bed, his eyes focused on the floor.

Tears stung her eyes as she walked to the door. “Goodnight, Dean,” she said softly before closing it behind her.

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[nuggeett875]

"I'm Still Upset"-Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean and his girlfriend get into a fight which lasts all day, but they can't sleep without the other by their side.

Yelling could be heard from all over the bunker, keeping everybody on edge. "Are they still on this stupid argument?" Castiel asked as he walked down the stairs towards Sam who was sitting at the table. "Yeah, almost 3 hours now without a break. It's almost impressive."

"You could have died!" They heard Delilah shouting, "How is that different from every other day?!" Dean responded.

"This time you put yourself in the way on purpose. You're lucky that bullet only hit your side." She dropped her head in her hands sitting in the chair behind her, exhausted from this entire situation.

Dean and Delilah had gone out on a hunt and were chasing down 2 suspects. Delilah had gotten one to the ground and was checking to see if he had the object they were looking for on him when she heard Dean shouting her name.

The next thing she knew Dean pushed her to the side and was holding his side where a bullet had just hit. Looking up she saw the other person holding a gun out and she shot them dead center and they fell to the ground.

“Dean. Dean, you okay? What the hell were you thinking jumping over like that” She ran over and grabbed his head. “What the hell were you thinking letting your guard down like that?” He groaned sitting up.

“Seriously. Dean I had it under control, that was stupid.” She took a step back. “No what’s stupid was almost letting yourself get killed on a rookie mistake.”

And that’s how the rest of the day went. The two of them going back and forth saying whatever came to mind. Sam and Castiel had grown tired of it and went to their rooms attempting to block out the yelling and get some sleep.

“You know what, I’m done with this. I’m going to sleep. In my own room!” Dean told her stomping off. They had usually stayed in one room, switching between Dean and Delilahs, but tonight they went to their separate spaces.

……………………………….

Around 2 in the morning, Dean was lying wide awake in bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep. His mind had been racing and every time he closed is eyes, nightmares threatened to come. Usually Delilah helped calm the dreams but she wasn’t with him now.

Delilah had been in her own room with the same issue. Freezing and anxious. Throughout the night she was move closer to Dean and steal his heat, and Dean didn’t mind one bit. She had also gone through experiences in her life that left her with terrifying memories. They had helped each other.

Another 30 minutes later Delilah heard her door open and looked over seeing Dean walking in his face still upset yet tired. He walked over to the bed and climbed in not saying anything and wrapped his arms around Delilah.

Delilah turned over and rested her head in the crook of his neck and tangled their legs together, the cold feeling she had slipping away. Dean let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes starting to fall asleep.

“I’m still upset.” Dean whispered almost asleep. “Me too.” Delilah told him. He pressed a kiss to her head and they both fell asleep, they could continue arguing in the morning.

[rubyvhs]

looking back [ chapter one ]

SUMMARY. both girls find out their world is crumbling. TAGS. 0.6k words, parent death, mentions of using sex as a coping mechanism, narrator (only this chapter). series masterlist.

"Lils!" Mary calls from her spot on the couch, flipping the page on her book to the next as her eyes scan the pages. Monsters, vampires, demons, blah blah blah. Nothing about what they're hunting, granted they don't know what it is, but they'd at least know if it's in these books.

Two pages later Melissa has still failed to make her way out of the bathroom and to her sister so Mary gets up to knock on the wooden door, hand on her gun in her back pocket.

"Melissa? What's taking so long?" Just as she's about to knock the door down the handle moves and she quickly takes out her gun, not pointing it at the door yet.

The door opens fully to show Melissa's tear-stained cheeks, and her phone in her hand. Mary drops the gun to the ground and runs over to her older sister, taking the phone and hugging her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Don't cry, what's wrong?"

"Mum... dad, they're—" Mary's eyes widen as she takes her sister's sobs into her shirt, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Carly and Loren Rhodes were on a hunting trip for three weeks, the girls were already worried as it is, but nothing could have prepared them for this. Nothing would prepare these little girls to hear that their mother and father went down hunting monsters and that they were now alone.

"Who called?" She asks quietly.

"Bobby." Mary nods and they both slide down into the bathroom floor, it seems easier than walking to the couch while Melissa is letting out everything she could ever feel and Mary's silently letting tears fall.

That was the first time the two girls had learned to grieve. They knew death was on the table, they're hunters of course, but they never truly understood it until days passed and the only time they'd hear their parent's voice was when they tried their voicemails.

Nothing truly changed even four months later.

"This is Carly Rhodes, I'm busy, leave a message. If it's urgent call Loren, 347-927-1037." Melissa's tears keep going and she takes a deep breath, grounding herself slowly.

"Hi, mom." She says softly, looking over and Mary who's sleeping on the bed next to hers, "I miss you." She whispers, "Mary and I are still hunting," she lets out a non-amused laugh, "We swore we'd stop after your funeral but... we needed to keep ourselves busy."

A beat. Two. The animated voice suddenly says, "Maximum time reached, if you want one extra minute press one." Melissa doesn't bother, shutting her phone off and taking a deep breath before throwing it across the room. She watches as it shatters onto the wall and Mary wakes up alarmed, her gun aimed at no one in particular as she waves it around.

"What—"

"Go to sleep." Melissa turns to give her younger sister her back.

The girls thought they'd be unstoppable, much like the brothers thought, but all it takes is a dead loved one and they're all broken pieces on the floor.

It didn't stop, not even four years later, though it did get better. They had each other so they went through it, rode out the grief and pain. Melissa drowned herself in books and cases, she soon forgot the meaning of a break, opting to stay busy instead.

Mary, on the contrary, had made her entire life into one big party, filled with booze and sex. And the occasional weed. Not to mention hunts, of course, it was the one thing both girls could agree on.

It helped ground them. Especially when they were looking for the sons of bitches who killed their parents.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

tags. @therealabadoodle @naylanae-0308