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writtenbysprout · 2 months ago

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The Heated Confession | Sam Winchester x reader

Word count: 4.1k+

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

tags: pining, yearning, tooth rotting fluff, angst

Sequal to The Quiet Ache

The four of you—Sam, Dean, Castiel and you—are gathered around a worn motel table, pouring over case notes and trying to piece together the threads of the last hunt. The air is thick with concentration, the only sounds are the rustle of papers and the faint hum of the flickering motel light above.

You’re sitting next to Castiel, the angel frowning at a pile of documents as he tries to decipher the complexities of human handwriting. He’s been staring at the same page for ten minutes, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Cas,” you say gently, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Do you need some help?”

He looks at you, his expression both puzzled and earnest. “I understand the words individually, but their meaning together is... elusive.”

You smile softly, taking the paper from his hands. “It’s just a witness statement,” you explain, leaning closer to show him the details. “This part here means they saw something in the woods. And this bit—it’s just their guess about what it was.”

Castiel listens intently, his head tilted slightly as he absorbs your explanation. When he nods, it’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s committing every word you say to memory.

“You’re really good at this,” he says after a moment, his voice tinged with something close to admiration. “At making things understandable.”

You laugh lightly, brushing off the compliment. “It’s just explaining, Cas. You’ll get the hang of it.”

But Sam, sitting across the table, feels his chest tighten as he watches the interaction.

It’s not the first time he’s seen you take the time to help Castiel navigate the complexities of being human. Whether it’s showing him how to work a coffee maker, explaining why humans say “bless you” after sneezing, or patiently describing the rules of Monopoly during a rare downtime, you always approach him with the same warmth and patience.

Sam remembers the way you guided Castiel through his first attempt at cooking, laughing softly as the angel held an egg like it might explode. The way you reassured him when he accidentally burned the toast, telling him it was no big deal and that everyone starts somewhere.

You treat Castiel not as someone who’s different or apart, but as someone who belongs. And it’s not just with Castiel. You have this quiet way of making everyone around you feel seen and valued.

As you lean closer to Castiel now, pointing something out on the paper in front of him, Sam can’t help but marvel at the easy kindness you extend to everyone in your life.

It’s in the way you explain things to Castiel without a trace of condescension, as though you genuinely enjoy helping him understand the nuances of human behavior. It’s in the way you treat Dean with a blend of camaraderie and care, knowing when to push him and when to let him be.

And it’s in the way you treat Sam—with a softness that feels almost like a salve to the rough edges of his life.

How do you do it? Sam wonders, his gaze lingering on you. How do you make everyone feel like they matter?

He notices the little things—the way your voice softens when you’re speaking to Castiel, the way you smile even when you think no one is looking, the way you never seem to tire of offering your patience and understanding.

It’s not just admirable; it’s breathtaking.

Sam doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you glance up and catch his eye.

“What’s up?” you ask, your tone light and curious.

He quickly shakes his head, his face flushing slightly as he pretends to refocus on the paper in front of him. “Nothing,” he says, his voice a little too quick, a little too quiet. “Just… watching you explain things to Cas. You’re good at it.”

You smile at him, a faint blush dusting your cheeks at the compliment. “Well, someone has to make sure he doesn’t think Monopoly is a form of warfare.”

Sam chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. But inside, his thoughts spiral.

You don’t even know, he thinks. You don’t know how much better you make everything. How much better you make me.

As you turn back to Castiel, picking up where you left off, Sam leans back in his chair, his gaze still lingering on you. He doesn’t say anything more, but in the quiet moments that follow, one thought echoes in his mind.

If there’s any good left in this world, it’s sitting right here at this table.

But it’s the little things you do that undo him, the quiet acts of care that feel so natural to you and yet so monumental to Sam. He knows you’re not trying to be extraordinary, but to him, you are.

He notices everything.

The way you leave a cup of coffee at his elbow during the late nights spent researching. You never make a fuss about it, never draw attention to yourself. You just set the steaming mug down with a quiet precision, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and return to your seat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. It tells him you see him, that you’re thinking of him even when he’s too caught up in his own mind to notice his own needs.

The way your voice changes when you talk to him. You’re still you—direct, steady, with a clarity that cuts through the chaos of their world—but there’s a softness, a warmth that’s reserved just for him. It’s in the way you ask if he’s eaten, the way you tease him when his head gets too stuck in the books, the way you draw him out of himself when the weight of everything becomes too much.

And then there’s the way you look at him.

It’s not pity—God, he hates pity—but something deeper, something gentler. Your eyes hold an understanding that feels rare and precious, an acceptance that makes him feel seen in a way that both comforts and terrifies him. It’s as though you’ve peered into the darkest corners of him, the parts he hides from everyone, even himself, and decided they’re worth staying for.

Sam doesn’t just notice the moments—you’ve etched them into his mind.

He remembers the night after a hunt that had gone sideways, leaving everyone bruised and exhausted. He’d been sitting at the war room table, staring blankly at the maps spread out before him, unable to shake the weight of the lives they couldn’t save. The bunker had been quiet, and he’d thought he was alone until he heard your footsteps.

You’d walked in, carrying two mugs of tea. “Coffee this late’ll wreck you,” you’d said simply, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across the table.

He hadn’t said much—what could he say? But he remembers the way the warmth of the tea seeped into his hands as he wrapped them around the mug, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. You hadn’t pushed him to talk, hadn’t tried to fix anything. You’d just been there, your presence anchoring him, your silence offering a solace words couldn’t provide.

Or the time you’d patched him up after a rough hunt. The gash on his arm had been deep, the sting of the antiseptic biting into his skin, but your hands had been steady, your focus sharp. You’d worked with a quiet efficiency, your brow furrowed in concentration, and for a while, he’d let himself just watch you, marveling at the way you carried yourself with such quiet strength.

When he’d flinched at the sting, your touch softened immediately. You’d glanced up at him, your eyes filled with something that looked like apology.

“It’s okay,” you’d murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

And he’d believed you—not because of the words, but because of the way you’d said them, the quiet certainty in your tone that made him feel, even just for a moment, that he really was okay.

When you’d finished wrapping his arm, your fingers had lingered on his skin, just for a second longer than necessary. And in that second, Sam had felt the air between you shift, heavy with something unspoken. He remembers wishing you wouldn’t pull away, wishing he could reach out and hold onto that moment, onto you.

These memories stay with him, surfacing in the quiet hours when he’s alone. They aren’t loud or dramatic, but they cut deeper than any grand gesture ever could.

Because it’s not just the way you care for him—it’s the way you do it without expecting anything in return. The way you make him feel seen, steady, and whole in a life that so often feels like it’s falling apart.

Sam doesn’t know what to do with these feelings, doesn’t know how to tell you what you mean to him without risking everything. But the ache in his chest is growing, spreading, impossible to ignore.

And as he sits across the room now, watching you curled up in that oversized chair, your face serene, he can’t help but think: You deserve so much more than this life.

Sam doesn’t mean to hover. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But lately, it feels like you’ve become a magnet, and he’s powerless to do anything but orbit around you.

If you’re in the library, he finds reasons to join you. His laptop is always conveniently dead, his notes mysteriously missing, or he suddenly remembers a book he needs to check. He’ll settle across from you, opening a lore tome or pretending to skim a case file, but his eyes inevitably wander. He watches the way your brow furrows when you’re deep in thought, the way your lips twitch into a small smile when you find something interesting.

And when you glance up and catch him looking, his heart skips a beat.

“Need something, Sam?” you ask, teasing but not unkind.

He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “Just… wondering if you found anything.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”

In the kitchen, it’s the same story. You’ll be making tea or rummaging through the fridge, and suddenly, Sam decides he needs a snack. It’s not subtle—Dean’s smirk from across the room tells him as much—but Sam doesn’t care.

You greet him with a warm smile, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter to him before he even asks. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment as he takes the mug. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, one he has to mask with a long sip of coffee.

You start talking about something casual—the weather, a new book you’re reading—and Sam drinks it in, grateful for the excuse to just be near you.

One evening, he walks into the living room to find you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a movie playing softly on the TV. You look up when he enters, your face lighting up with a smile that’s brighter than it has any right to be.

“Hey,” you say, shifting to make room for him.

Sam hesitates, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” you say, patting the cushion beside you.

He sits down, careful to keep a bit of space between you at first. The movie is something light, a romantic comedy that Dean would have mercilessly mocked, but Sam doesn’t care. He’s too focused on the warmth radiating from you, the way your laughter fills the room.

“You can change it if you want,” you offer, gesturing toward the remote.

“No, this is fine,” he says quickly.

Minutes pass, the movie fading into the background as Sam’s attention drifts entirely to you. You shift, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder.

Sam freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. He glances down at you, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed, your breathing steady, and for a moment, he can’t believe this is real.

He wants to move, to wrap his arm around you, to hold you closer, but he’s terrified of waking you. So he sits there, perfectly still, letting the weight of your head anchor him in a way nothing else ever has.

You fall asleep like that, your body relaxed against his. Sam stays awake, his mind racing but his body still, savoring the moment. The blanket you’ve draped over yourself spills onto him, and he tugs it up a little, covering you more fully.

The movie ends, the credits rolling silently, but Sam doesn’t dare reach for the remote. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that’s settled over the room.

In the quiet, he lets himself imagine—what it would be like if moments like this weren’t rare, if they weren’t accidents. What it would be like if he could hold you like this every night, no excuses, no hesitations.

But for now, he just sits there, his heart full and aching all at once, and lets the hours pass with you by his side.

It starts small—a faint tightening in his chest, a flicker of heat low in his stomach. Sam tells himself it’s nothing, just the remnants of a long day and a longer week. But as he watches, that faint flicker builds, burning into something sharper, something heavier.

You’re standing by the counter of the diner, waiting for the check while the three of you gear up to leave. The guy behind the register—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—has been chatting with you for a few minutes now. It’s harmless. He’s just being friendly, and you, being you, respond with a warm smile and a polite laugh.

Sam knows that smile. He’s seen it a hundred times. It’s the one you give to strangers who need a bit of kindness, the one that makes people feel at ease. It shouldn’t bother him. You’re not flirting, not leading the guy on in the slightest. You’re just… you.

And yet, it twists something inside him.

Sam knows it’s irrational. He knows he has no right to feel this way. You’re not his—hell, he hasn’t even worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. And even if you were, this? This isn’t anything.

But knowing doesn’t make it easier.

He tries to focus on something else—the way the warm light of the diner reflects off the checkered tiles, the smell of burgers and coffee that hangs in the air—but his eyes keep drifting back to you. To the way your shoulders relax as you chat, to the way your laugh rings out, soft but genuine.

To the way the guy leans just a little closer, like he’s trying to soak in as much of you as he can.

Sam’s fists clench under the table, his nails digging into his palms. He hates the way it makes him feel, this jealousy curling tight in his chest. It’s not you—it’s him, and he knows it.

You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re just being polite, kind, the way you always are. But Sam can’t help it, can’t stop the possessive streak that flares despite every logical argument he throws at it.

Dean notices, of course. He always notices.

“You good, man?” Dean asks, his voice low as he leans back in the booth. His eyes flick toward you, still at the counter, before landing on Sam with a knowing look.

“I��m fine,” Sam says quickly, too quickly.

Dean raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. “Right. You keep telling yourself that.”

Sam grits his teeth, his gaze dropping to the table. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the mess of feelings swirling inside him. Because the truth is, this isn’t the first time he’s felt it—the ache of wanting something he doesn’t know how to reach, the sting of watching someone else notice what he’s known all along.

When you finally return to the table, smiling as you hand over the receipt, Sam forces himself to relax. He unclenches his fists, lets out a slow breath, and meets your eyes with what he hopes is a neutral expression.

“Everything okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready to go?”

You nod, grabbing your coat as Dean tosses a few bills onto the table for a tip.

As the three of you step out into the cool night air, Sam walks beside you, keeping his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He’s quiet, his mind racing with thoughts he can’t quite pin down.

It’s not your fault. You don’t even know.

But that doesn’t make the jealousy any easier to bear.

Because the truth is, Sam wants more than he has any right to. He wants to be the one who makes you laugh like that, who gets to lean close and soak in your warmth. And as much as he hates himself for it, he wants everyone else to see that you’re his—even though he knows you’re not.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

The thought is enough to make his chest tighten, but he keeps walking, the sound of your voice pulling him out of his spiral as you talk about something mundane and comforting.

Sam’s grip on his machete tightens as the group approaches the abandoned house. The air is heavy, the kind of oppressive stillness that always precedes a fight. Dean is leading the way, his shotgun raised, while you follow just behind, your steps quiet but sure.

Sam should be focusing on the hunt—on the creak of the floorboards, the faint whispers of movement coming from deeper inside—but he can’t. His eyes keep darting to you, his chest tightening every time you take a step further into danger.

“Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual.

You glance back at him, raising an eyebrow but nodding. “I’m fine, Sam.”

Fine. The word does nothing to ease the knot in his stomach.

It happens fast. Too fast.

The wendigo bursts through a wall, a blur of claws and teeth, and the room erupts into chaos. Dean fires a shot, the salt rounds forcing the creature to stumble, but it’s not enough to stop it. You lunge toward it with your knife, and Sam’s heart nearly stops.

“Wait!” he yells, his voice sharp.

You hesitate for just a second, long enough for the wendigo to change direction. It barrels toward you, and before Sam can think, he’s moving. He throws himself between you and the creature, his machete swinging in a wide arc.

The blade connects, but it’s not a clean hit. The wendigo shrieks, clawing at Sam’s arm as it retreats into the shadows. Blood drips down his sleeve, hot and sticky, but he barely notices.

“Sam!” Your voice is frantic as you grab his arm, trying to check the wound.

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off as his eyes dart around the room. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You’re bleeding!”

Dean shouts from across the room, drawing their attention back to the hunt. “Focus, you two! It’s still here!”

Sam forces himself to breathe, to focus, but his hands shake as he readjusts his grip on the machete.

The hunt ends in a blur. Dean gets the kill, the wendigo collapsing in a heap of ash and bone, and the three of you stumble out of the house, battered but alive.

Back at the Impala, Dean tosses his shotgun into the trunk with a muttered curse. “What the hell was that, Sam? You almost got yourself killed!”

Sam doesn’t answer, his eyes fixed on you as you press a cloth against his arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he says, his voice softer than before.

You glare at him. “You’re not fine, Sam. That thing could’ve killed you.”

“And it could’ve killed you!” he snaps, the words bursting out before he can stop them.

The silence that follows is heavy. Dean glances between the two of you, his expression unreadable, before muttering something about “patching up later” and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Later, inside the bunker, you refuse to let him brush it off. You pull him into the kitchen, forcing him to sit while you clean and bandage his arm.

“What was that back there?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Sam hesitates, his jaw tightening. “I just… I couldn’t let you—”

“Get hurt?” you interrupt, finishing his sentence for him.

He nods, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, your hands working methodically to wrap the bandage around his arm. When you finally speak, your voice is softer. “Sam, I know you worry. But you can’t let it get in the way like that. We have to trust each other out there.”

“I do trust you,” he says quickly. “It’s me I don’t trust. Not when it comes to keeping you safe.”

You meet his eyes, your expression gentle but unyielding. “We keep each other safe. That’s how this works.”

Sam swallows hard, the weight of your words settling over him. He knows you’re right. But as he looks at you, at the quiet strength in your eyes, he also knows that his feelings for you are becoming harder to control.

For now, though, he nods, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

But deep down, he knows it’s not that simple.

Another hunt had gone wrong—terribly, inexplicably wrong.

You’re sitting at the war room table back in the bunker, a hastily wrapped bandage on your arm, your face pale and drawn. Sam is pacing, his long strides eating up the space between the table and the far wall, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” His voice is sharp, louder than you’ve ever heard it.

You glare at him, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I saved your ass, Sam! Or did you miss the part where that thing was about to rip your head off?”

“I didn’t need you to throw yourself into danger like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap, standing up despite the sharp pain in your arm. “Did you want me to just stand there and watch you get torn apart?”

“That’s not the point!” Sam’s voice cracks, his frustration turning into something raw.

“Then what is the point, Sam?” you shout, stepping closer to him. “Because all I see is you treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t handle myself!”

“You don’t get it,” he growls, his eyes blazing as he finally stops pacing. “It’s not about whether you can handle yourself! It’s about the fact that I can’t handle losing you!”

The words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of you. Your breath catches, your anger faltering as his admission sinks in.

“Sam…” you start, but he cuts you off, his voice softer now but no less intense.

“You don’t understand,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Every time we’re out there, I can’t stop thinking about what could happen to you. Every scratch, every close call—it eats me alive. And tonight? Seeing you get hurt? I—” He stops, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to find the words. “I can’t do it anymore.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding. “Sam, I—”

But before you can finish, he closes the distance between you in two long strides, his hands cupping your face as his lips crash into yours. It’s desperate, unrestrained, years of pent-up emotion spilling over all at once.

For a moment, you freeze, too stunned to react. But then you’re kissing him back, your fingers tangling in his shirt as you pull him closer. It’s messy, overwhelming, and everything you’ve both been holding back.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you both back to reality.

You break apart, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you turn to see Dean and Castiel standing in the doorway. Dean’s eyebrows are raised so high they practically disappear into his hairline, while Cas looks… well, Cas-like, but with a hint of curiosity.

“Uh… are we interrupting something?” Dean asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best effort to sound serious.

Sam takes a step back, his face flushed as he scrambles to say something. “I, uh—this isn’t—”

“Sure doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” Dean quips, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

Cas tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I believe this is what humans call ‘acting on repressed emotions.’”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “Well, I’d say it’s about damn time.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #sam winchester x you

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

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One Big Family

Team Free Will 2.0 & Winchester little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

It was impossible, crazy, ridiculous.

But it was also happening. After over twelve years, the Winchesters finally got to see their father again.

It wasn’t what Dean had meant to wish for, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially not now, with what was happening in front of him.

You, his twelve year old little sister, were basically meeting your father for the first time. You were mere months old when he died, so you knew him from pictures only.

After everything had been explained to John, his first request had been to re-meet you. Sam had gone to your room to explain what was going on, and when he returned Dean and John watched as you shuffled along behind Sam, his jacket gripped in your small fists as you hid behind him.

“That’s her?” John breathed, and Dean turned in surprise to see tears welling up in John’s eyes. “She…she’s so big.”

“It’s ok,” Sam whispered to you, trying to coax you out from behind him. You peeked around him to see John getting down on one knee to be less intimidating.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted with a wide smile, and between his soft eyes and the way he said “sweetheart”—just the way Dean said it—you felt your shyness ebbing slightly as you stepped out from behind Sam’s legs.

“Hi,” you mumbled shyly, shuffling your feet as you approached John.

John reached his arms up slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for your approval. You, never one to turn down a hug, gave it readily and melted into your father’s arms.

Dean had never seen his father smile like he did as he held you in his arms.

“It’s good to see you,” John said quietly as he pulled away. You didn’t seem to know what to say, so Sam spoke up.

“Honey, how about you show him your room?”

You lit up with excitement, snatching up John’s giant hand in your small one and practically dragging him towards your room.

“Ok, ok,” John laughed. “I’m coming!”

“I guess she’s warming up to him,” Sam chuckled to Dean after you disappeared with John in tow.

“We should probably join them,” Dean said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

…

“Wow.” John laughed. “You’ve gotta lot of toys in here.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Daddy bought me most of them, he’s really—“ you trailed off when you saw the look of shock on John’s face.

Sam and Dean entered your room before John could ask what you meant, and as soon as they came in you ran to Sam, suddenly shy again in John’s presence. You didn’t know how he would feel when he found out about the angel that was like a third dad to you.

“Hey, something wrong?” Sam glanced between you and John.

“Um, no,” John spoke up, recovering from his shock. “We were just catching up. Dean, can I talk to you?”

Dean nodded, and he and John stepped out of your room.

…

“Kid, did something happen?” Sam asked gently.

“I—um, I mentioned daddy,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes.

“Hey,” Sam coaxed, kneeling down to meet your gaze. “He’s not gonna be mad, ok? He’ll understand, you didn’t do anything.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with more assurance than he felt.

…

“What happened?” Dean questioned.

“It’s nothing, just…” John cleared his throat, and Dean had never seen him so hesitant. “I just wanted to know…does she call you two her dads?”

The question threw Dean a little.

“I…”

“Look, I get it,” John cut in. “She hasn’t seen me since she was a baby, it makes sense. She just, she mentioned ‘daddy’ and I…I was curious.”

Dean nearly cringed, but he kept his face in check. ‘Daddy’ was your moniker for Cas, and Dean wasn’t too sure how his father would react to the knowledge of angels.

“That’s a really long story,” Dean sighed. “I think maybe we should all talk about it.”

…

“So…angels,” John said quietly about an hour later. “And…the apocalypse?”

“Yeah, more than one,” Dean scoffed.

“And an angel, and the son of Lucifer are living with you,” John added.

“Jack,” you corrected with a smile. “He’s my big brother,” you added proudly. With the less-than-welcome greeting Jack had gotten when he entered the world, you had taken it upon yourself to make him family, and even though you were technically eleven years older than him, he always felt like a big brother to you.

“I see,” John said, smiling softly at you. “You three have been busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said.

…

The four of you spent all day together, and John did all he could to get to know you.

You hit it off well with him, rambling non-stop about everything he’d missed, and he listened with wrapt attention.

You got to experience a lot of firsts with John—he gave you a piggyback ride, you had a pillow fight, and to cap it all off, the whole family sat down for one last meal. But all too soon, it was time to say goodbye.

The moment the boys found out that John had to go, they decided that you shouldn’t be around when it happened. So, at the end of the night that had ended way too soon, John pulled you into his arms for a final goodbye.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” he said with finality. “These three dads you got here are raising you right, so you listen to them, ok?”

“Ok,” you promised through your tears.

“Hey,” John pulled back, framing your face with his large hands and using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears. “It’s ok, sweetheart. We got this day to remember, yeah? That’ll have to be enough for us.”

You nodded, leaning forward for one last hug. John reciprocated, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” John breathed. Just as he was about to pull away, you stopped him with a tug on his arm and a gentle whisper in his ear. At your words, he smiled and picked you up, and Sam and Dean trailed behind as John carried you into your room…

Where John Winchester got to tuck his little girl into bed for the first time, kissing her head and wishing her goodnight. He closed the door with great hesitation, giving you one final, longing glance before shutting off the light and closing your door.

“You’ve got a good kid in there,” John said to his sons, no longer able to hold back the tears.

“Thanks, dad,” Dean smiled.

“You tell that angel friend of yours thanks for me, ok?”

…

You awoke the next morning to a quiet bunker.

“Daddy?” You began. “Are you back yet?”

With a flutter of wings, Castiel stood in front of you.

“Hello little one,” he greeted with a smile. “Yes, I got back last night after you fell asleep.” Cas grinned when you launched yourself into his arms. “I’ve heard you had quite the eventful day.”

You recounted every moment of the previous day with your father, and Castiel watched with a patient smile, glad that you got to meet John, even if just for a day.

“Well, after such an exciting day I’d say you need a lot more sleep,” Castiel said with a frown when he noticed the early hour.

“Can you tuck me in?” You asked shyly.

He smiled, “Of course little one.”

“You’re awake.”

The two of you turned at the sound of Jack’s voice in the doorway.

“I’m putting her back to sleep,” Castiel informed him.

“I wanna say hi to Jack first!” You insisted, jumping out of bed and running to hug Jack. He laughed and hugged you back tightly, before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to bed.

“Castiel is right, it’s far too early for you to be up, little sister. Get some rest.” He set you down gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead, an action mirrored by Cas.

“Sleep tight, little one.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

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arjwrites · 8 months ago

Note

— Guess who's back with another request.....‼️‼️‼️

A fluff Castiel x Winchester!Reader where she helps Cas with his wings after a hunt please 😘😻 (I imagine them being dark, HUGE and MEGA soft and she goes like "Woah" (completely distracted for a moment))

Saving Grace- Castiel x GN!Reader

Summary: Cas is hurt after a hunt, and when he's hurting, you're hurting. Sometimes even an angel needs a helping hand. PART TWO HERE! Warnings: None! A/N: WELCOME BACK ANON! Sorry this took me a couple of days- for some reason I was really struggling to get Cas's character right here. I really wanted to do him justice for my loyal requester!!! A bit of context for this one- Cas is able to reveal a physical form of his wings if he chooses. All of the logistics of angel wings are pretty much made up. Good thing I view canon as more of a… rough suggestion! It’s right there in my bio, people. Have a little bit of suspension of belief for a few of the details!!!! Also- this doesn't quite make it to outright romantic territory- it felt to me like a buildup to something bigger in the future! Maybe I'll write a part 2 at some point, who knows... It had been a few hours since you had finished up the day’s hunt. Upon your return to the motel, Sam had instantly run out the door to the local library in search of a better wifi connection to research for the next case, while Dean had followed him into town to grab some supplies. This left you and Castiel, perched in your usual positions on opposite sides of the bed in your separate room. It was common for you and the angel to spend some quiet time together after a hunt- you both often found an unspoken comfort in each other’s simple presence. While you were leaned back, propped up with pillows and dialed into whatever was on TV, Cas held his usual stiff posture, but something seemed off about him. His eyes were glued to the ceiling, and every so often, he would shift in his seat and his whole body would tighten and cringe. You knew he had taken a few pretty serious blows during this hunt, but the fact that he let himself continue to hurt, rather than quickly healing himself, was concerning to you. Usually, this time spent together was silent, enjoying a moment of peace while you each lost yourself in your own thoughts. But after a few episodes and many stolen, worried glances, you felt you had to speak up.

“Cas, what’s wrong? It’s obvious you’re still hurting. Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

“I’m fine. I just need to figure a few things out.” He continued to avoid your gaze, rising from the bed and pacing across the room to distance himself from you.

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.” Your level of concern forced you to cut right to the chase.

Cas pondered this for a second. Could you really help him? Was it even okay for him to ask? Humans certainly hadn’t taken very well to an angel’s true form in the past… But that was a couple thousand years ago, and those humans hadn’t known what you know. If anyone could handle this, it was you. If he could trust anyone, it was you. And it was only his wings- just a sliver of his full form. But still, Cas was hesitant. This was unfamiliar territory for him.

You watched from across the room as the wheels turned in his mind. His expression was pained, and it seemed like he was wrestling with a hard decision. As much as you wanted to close the gap between you, to comfort him, you knew the best thing to do was to give him his space. You were glad you did, because after a moment, his gaze rose from the floor, settled on you, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“There’s something wrong with my wings. It’s blocking my grace and I can’t heal myself.” His expression was solemn and his tone direct. Clearly, he wasn’t happy to have to bring this up with you.

“Your wings?” The mention of the most angelic part of your dear angel sent your heart aflutter (no pun intended). For the most part, Cas’s wings were out of sight, out of mind. Usually he was just the dorky man in a trench coat who just so happened to have some pretty crazy powers. But when you thought about his wings, the parts of him that were so divine and otherworldly, your cheeks burned scarlet. It was a reminder of just how different Cas was from you.

“Yes. I might need you to… Inspect them. Figure out what is wrong and remove whatever is blocking my grace. I can’t heal myself, Sam, Dean, or you until it’s gone.”

You sucked in a sharp, full breath, your lungs holding tightly to the air for just a moment before slowly pushing it back out of you.

“Okay. I can do that.” Why were you nervous? It was just Cas. You were just helping out a… friend.

“It’s very… personal. This vessel you see isn’t really me, but my wings? That is as close as you can get to seeing my true form. I’m… not sure how you would react. It’s not something meant for human eyes. Not here on Earth, anyways. It might upset you or-”

“If it means helping you, I’m sure I can handle it.”

“Are you sure-”

“Cas. Are you in pain?”

He hesitated for a moment before conceding the truth. “Yes.”

“Then let me help.”

Castiel sighed, his body tightening in a way that seemed like he was bracing himself. A terse “Alright” escaped his lips, and then the whole room shifted.

There was no earthly way to describe the sight that unfurled before you. Castiel’s wings were dark, so dark they held no color or shine or reflection- just a void, deep, black nothingness. And yet, they almost glowed. There was some sort of aura that radiated off of them, just as dark as the wings themselves yet tinged ever so slightly blue. It must have been his grace. The aura wrapped around the perimeter of each wing and hugged each individual feather, defining them just enough so you could barely distinguish one from another. Somehow, his wings were dark and light and everything in between- you had never seen anything like it. Cas was right- it was hard to wrap your head around it. You reached down to grasp the surface you were sitting on, half to ground yourself in the moment to believe what you were seeing, and half to make sure you didn’t jump right up to inspect his wings closer. You knew this was hard for poor Castiel- your greatest fear was making him uncomfortable.

“Wow, Cas,” was all you could say. You were completely entranced, absolutely at a loss. It took everything in you not to burst into tears- he was definitely right. This was not a sight for just any human to see. He started to shift underneath your gaze, each movement triggering his wings to follow in a parallel movement. He looked uncomfortable. Gathering your composure, you rose to your feet. It was just Cas, the same Cas you’ve known all along. As nervous as his wings made you feel, you knew he was just as nervous, so you pushed yourself to help him feel at ease.

“Okay. How do you want me to do this?”

“You can touch them. See if you notice anything that doesn’t look like it should be there.”

Touch them. Just the thought sent another jolt of electricity through your body. Touching Cas’s wings? He was asking you to touch his wings. There was no stopping the thoughts racing into your mind- How would they feel? How would it make Cas feel? How would it make you feel?

Pushing the worries aside, you crossed over to Cas. Mid-step, your gaze grabbed on to the angel’s and wouldn’t let go. As you inched closer, you were less and less inclined to look away. Because once you did, you knew you would be face to face in the task at hand.

It’s not that you didn’t want to look at Cas’s wings. They were the most beautiful, ethereal things you had ever seen. They just made you so nervous. For the first time since knowing Cas, it truly registered to you- he was an angel, a heavenly creature, so powerful and beautiful that even this small glimpse of his true form had you weak in the knees. But beyond being just an angel, he was a teammate, a friend, and to you, something far more. All you wanted to do was take his pain away.

Finally, your eyes were forced to stray from the angel’s as your feet led you behind him, ducking under his left wing and settling yourself square between them. There was a physical sensation radiating off of them- a warm, low buzz that made your whole body tingle.

“One more thing.” Cas’s voice stepped in to break what felt like an age-long silence.

“Yes?” You whispered.

“It will be a bit… sensitive. Please be gentle.”

“Of course, Cas.”

And so you were. With the softest touch you could muster up, you reached out and made contact with his right wing, settling your fingers amongst the feathers. You felt Cas’s body shudder underneath your touch, but his low voice mumbled that all was well, to carry on. So you did.

For nearly thirty minutes, your fingers worked through the wings. Touching them was like weaving your hands through silk, sifting through layer upon layer. The feathers were so light and delicate that they almost felt like nothing at all, and the way they kissed your skin was without a doubt the most beautiful sensation you had ever experienced.

Your hands zoned into their task, sifting through the wings to remove all of the debris leftover from the day’s hunt. Cas spoke to you as you worked, teaching you about their anatomy, their capabilities, and everything else. You listened intently, fascinated by this intimate insight, but you weren’t sure if he was speaking with the pure intention of teaching you or simply to distract himself from the feeling of what was going on behind him. Every so often, his voice wavered or his back pulled away, and in response, you would stall your hands, giving him a moment to adjust.

The process was long and tedious, but you took the liberty of enjoying every second of it. Watching the ripple of the feathers beneath your fingers, the way your hands seemed to disappear as they bobbed in and out, eventually you dropped the last piece of shrapnel into the empty box you had been using to collect it all.

“There. All done. Is that… any better?”

Cas didn’t vocalize a response, but your question was answered when his entire form shone with the familiar blue glow of his grace. And when the glow subsided, his wings were tucked away yet again, leaving behind his unadorned trenchcoated vessel. He turned to you with a face of gentle features.

“Thank you,” was all he could express in his low timbre. It seemed as though every trace of worry had melted away, and everything about Cas’s presence had softened. But if you hadn’t been completely sure of his newfound comfort and ease, the angel confirmed it when he took a long stride closer, halving the distance that had served as the buffer between you.

“Thank you for trusting me to do that,” you breathed through a slight daze, both lingering from the experience and sparked anew from his rapidly increasing proximity.

“There is no one else I trust as much as you.” Now he was merely inches away, hovering closer to you than he ever had been before. Here you froze, both sinking into the feeling, until the magnetism that emanated off of him grew to be too much. Just as you took the leap of faith to close the gap, you were interrupted by the crash of the front door flying open. You jerked backwards on instinct, reinstating the safe buffer space.

In strode Sam and Dean, oblivious as ever. Stopped just inside the doorframe, and in complete unison, the brothers tilted their heads in confusion.

Gesturing between the two of you, Dean spoke. “Hey. We interrupting something?”

#requests <3 #castiel x reader #castiel x y/n #castiel x you #supernatural reader insert #castiel #castiel reader insert

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said.

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though.

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…”

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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ninii-winchester · 4 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors (Part 9)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings : angst, heartbreak, Rachel, not proofread as always. 😮‍💨

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Castiel brought Y/n to a cafe near Winchester and Co. The cafe glows with warm light, inviting people from the chilly evening outside. Inside, soft chatter and the gentle hum of an espresso machine fill the air, which smells of fresh coffee and cinnamon. The space is cozy, with dark wood tables, vintage chairs, and shelves lined with books and plants. A barista calls out names, handing out drinks with a friendly smile. In the corner, friends laugh over hot chocolate, while a couple leans in close, deep in conversation. Nearby, a few patrons quietly work on laptops, creating a calm, intimate atmosphere.

The cafe was a stark contrast of Y/n’s mood, she felt gloomy and dark. Inside, people laughed and chatted, but she felt distant, wrapped in a cloud of gloom that even the smell of fresh coffee couldn’t penetrate. The soft glow that filled the room only seemed to highlight the cold emptiness she felt, a reminder of the lack of warmth within her own heart.

“How’re you feeling?” Castiel asked gently after ordering for them both.

Y/n remained silent, her gaze fixed on the table. Another wave of silence settled between them, thick and unyielding, as she refused to answer. Castiel watched her, his eyes full of quiet concern, but he didn’t press, letting her have the space she seemed to need.

“It hurts.” She said after minutes of silence, her voice low and almost in audible. “Cas, it hurts really bad, and I know I have no one to blame, it was me who decided to not give in to his advances, he asked me to run away with him, but could you really blame me? How can I let him throw away years of hard work, his dream that he worked so hard for.” She spoke looking at him and gave her a sympathetic look.

“I understand, but you shouldn’t have broken up with him.” Castiel tried to reason. “He could’ve talked to his parents, he would’ve found a way. But you gave up and he’s torn, he’s not himself Y/n/n.”

Y/n bit her lip knowing, Castiel was right. At least to some degree. But deep down she knew she didn’t have it in herself to bear an upfront rejection. She knew at the end she would’ve been the one left behind. She left him before he could. The insecurity, of not being enough, of not being the one who could provide him the stability he deserves, ran deep. Rachel’s words echoed in her mind, how she taunted her that she is the one that could provide Dean with stability and strengthen his career. How he’s finally accepting the relationship. The thought struck and she interjected, she scoffed before speaking.

“He’s fine. He’s accepted the relationship. They’re getting married, the preparations have started.” Castiel furrowed his brows, unaware of the said preparations or Dean’s acceptance. Her eyes glistened, a hint of unshed tears catching the light as she looked away, blinking quickly to keep them from spilling over. Her expression remained steady, but there was a softness there, a quiet vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide. It was the look of someone holding it together, just on the edge of breaking but determined not to let it show.

“And how’d you know that?” Castiel asked. With a sigh she replied that Rachel told her making Castiel shake his head incredulously. His eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be trusting her word on this. She said it to get under your skin.” He added, but she was having none of it. Before either of them could speak further the bell on the door jingled indicating a new arrival.

It was Dean, with Rachel on his arm. She clung to him like a koala, and he didn’t seem indifferent to it either. The tears that she’d held in for so long, flowed freely down her cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable, each one carrying a weight she could barely hold. Her vision blurred, and she took a shaky breath, but the pain in her chest only seemed to grow, raw and relentless. The cafe’s warm light felt too bright, too indifferent, as though it didn’t see the storm raging inside her. When Castiel noticed what she’d seen, he cursed under his breath.

Y/n excused herself to the ladies’ room and Dean noticed his best friend sitting alone in one of the booths. The couple approached Castiel, Dean’s gaze was questioning as he knew his friend was here with Y/n but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Castiel.” Rachel’s high pitched voice resounded in his ears and he turned to her with a bored look. “What’re you doing here alone?” She asked. “Care to join us?” She added before he could reply.

“I’m not alone, I’m here with Y/n. She just went to the bathroom.” Castiel smirked throwing in Y/n’s name to irk her.

“Unbelievable.” She turned to Dean. “She moved on pretty fast huh? One rich man to another.” Dean’s jaw clenched in anger as she berated his woman. Before he could speak Castiel’s voice boomed.

“Rachel, you speak about my friend like that ever again and I’ll make you regret it. I’m not afraid of your father or mine for that matter. So consider this as a polite reminder.” Although he was anything but polite. He really wanted to smack her painted face but he was raised to be better than that.

When Y/n came back the air was tense and to say it was awkward would be an understatement. Rachel glared at the said woman but she didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, she asked Castiel if they could go back, the man didn’t need to be told twice.

“I know how it looks darling, Rachel’s words and running into them at the cafe, but you should know Dean only loves you.” Castiel tried to encourage her not to give up so easily as he dropped her off in front of the office building.

“Bye Cas.” She whispered completely shooting the conversation down. She stepped out of the car leaving a dejected Castiel behind. He really wanted his friends to be happy, he wanted Y/n to be happy. But the way things are going made him want to rip his hair out. He watched her disappear into the building and drove off with a sigh, in hopes of thing getting better.

Forty five minutes later, the elevator bell dinged and Y/n looked up from her desk to see her boss walking over haphazardly as if he came running and tumbling. He rounded her desk and pulled her chair so she was facing him. With a determined look on his face he kneeled in front of her, cupping her face in his large hands.

“Baby, it wasn’t what it looked like I swear. After you left with Cas, she came in here… she came onto me, she tried to..” He spoke too fast as if he was running out of breath. “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t want to. She wouldn’t leave, so I suggested to take her out so she would stop trying to…-” he pulled her closer, resting his forehead on hers he begged. “You have to believe me.” He whispered.

Despite the chaos around her, she remained stoic, her expression unchanged as the storm inside her brewed. With a monotonous tone she replied,

“Mr.Winchester your relationship with your fiancée is none of my business you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

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aylacavebear · 3 months ago

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Innuendos

Hunting with the brothers had been interesting at first. You were used to hunting alone, thanks to what you were. But when you crossed their path on a werewolf case, and after several hours of convincing, they decided to give you a chance. Luckily, Cas had helped on that front; the only angel you were friends with happened to be their friend as well. Two months later, they offered you a room in the bunker that was their home. Here it was, six months later, and you’d been trying and failing, to catch Dean’s eye.

Word Count: 4693

Dean x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Lots of Innuendos, some Fluff, some Angst, Dean being Dean (yes, this is a warning).

AN: Sorry I don't have the next Soulmate chapter up but wanted to give everyone something today. I hope you all like this one.

----------------------------------------- It was late afternoon, but being in the bunker, you couldn’t tell, thanks to the lack of windows. The library mostly quiet, the occasional clicking of keys from Sam’s laptop or the turning of the pages from the book in front of you. Dean was leaned back in his chair, flipping through another book, sipping a glass of whiskey like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You glanced up at him without moving, knowing the motion would have pulled his attention. The man was infuriating you. For the last month, you had done everything you could think of to get his attention. Bed shorts hadn’t worked, no matter what top you had paired them with. An elegant black evening gown paired with simple heels for a case hadn’t even earned you more than a single compliment.

Not even regular jeans with any top worked, either. I need something sweet. The moment you moved to get up, you felt both their eyes on you, but you ignored it and headed into the kitchen. In the freezer, hiding in the back behind the vegetables, were your freezer pops. You licked your lips, pulling out one of your favorite flavors.

After slipping off the plastic covering and throwing it away, you slipped the chilled deliciousness between your lips and returned to your seat in the library, not even glancing at the brothers. You held the stick in your hand but would occasionally let go of it to turn the next page, holding it carefully in your mouth between your lips.

Dean hadn’t moved when you returned to the library, but now his eyes were on you and the way you slid that popsicle in and out of your mouth between your soft lips. It was the only time he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, imagining something else between your lips. He’d spent the last six months trying to keep things to just friendship, just hunting, but you were making it utterly difficult for him.

Those damned sleep shorts of yours always made his cock stir, and he had to deliberately think of anything, but you pinned under him on any surface. It was that dress that had taken his breath away. He lost track of the demon they were supposed to be watching three different times that night, watching you just mingle with the other people there. The things you wore daily, though, that was where he was having the hardest time, literally. Your jeans hugged your curves in all the right places, sending his mind on tangents he knew he shouldn’t be having.

And to top things off, you were teasing him with a fucking popsicle. He swore you were doing it on purpose. Dean couldn’t give in, though, not after all the shit he gave Sam after the Ruby incident, even if you were nothing like her. You weren’t a demon, and you weren’t attempting to start the apocalypse. Then there was the werewolf Sam had slept with, who tried to kill him that same night. When you noticed him staring at you, you popped the popsicle out of your mouth, your elbow leaning on the table next to the book. “You okay?”

Your voice instantly pulled Dean from his thoughts, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, returning his gaze to his book. “Yup,” he replied, as casually as he could manage with what was going through his head, thanks to that popsicle and your lips.

Your brows dipped, now curious as to why he’d been staring at you. Was he just zoning off in my direction? He didn’t look back over at you, though. The way his nose was stuck in that book almost made you wonder if he had an issue of Busty Asian Beauties hiding inside. Just before the popsicle could drip, you stuck your tongue out, catching the drop before it could fall, then sucked on it sideways to get some extra juices.

The movement was not lost on Dean, but this time, you caught his gaze and the hunger in his eyes, which had nothing to do with the popsicle. It’s about fucking time, you thought to yourself as you deliberately teased him while sucking on your popsicle. All the while, you kept your attention on the book before you.

Sam glanced between the two of you, wondering just how much longer his brother was going to manage to hold out. It wasn’t like your advances had been subtle, while at the same time, you weren’t throwing yourself at him, either. He’d confronted his brother about it a few times, but Dean always responded the same way, brushing the topic aside.

While helping the two with research, your mind was in two places: the case and how you were going to tease the hell out of Dean until he couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t that you only wanted sex from him. If that was all you wanted, you would have just picked up some random guy from a bar for a night. Near dinner time, you needed to give your eyes a break. You’d been reading for hours and no closer to finding the information you’d been looking for. Dean let his gaze follow you to the kitchen, watching as your hips swayed gently as you walked, unable to keep from licking his lips.

“How long do you plan on ignoring her?” Sam asked without looking up from his laptop.

Dean’s head snapped to his brother, realizing he hadn’t been nearly as sly about watching you as he thought he had. “I don’t know what you mean,” deciding to play dumb on this one.

Sam chuckled, “Dude, she likes you. She has for a while. Why not-”

“Don’t,” Dean cut him off in that tone that typically meant to drop the topic.

“I’m just saying,” Sam continued, ignoring Dean’s tone and finally looking over at him. “She’s nice. Plus, you two have a lot in common. What the hell are you so worried about?”

Dean sighed, knowing Sam wasn’t going to drop this, and straightened up in his chair. “She’s a Touched. I can’t.”

Sam just shook his head. “Really? That’s what this is about. She’s not human, so you won’t go past being just friends?”

Dean set the book down, then picked up his drink, tossing it back and finishing it off, wishing it would help the thoughts in his head stop. “It’s one thing to be friends with certain supernatural creatures. It’s another to…” he paused, glancing briefly to the kitchen. “It’s just not right. She should be with her own kind.” There was a hint of longing in his tone that Sam didn’t miss.

“Kinda hard since she’s the only one of her kind,” Sam sighed, returning his attention to his laptop and the research at hand.

Of course, he’d have to say that. Now I feel guilty. Dean had hoped they’d find others like you, but even Cas had confirmed that you were alone. He also knew you couldn’t have a normal relationship with just anyone. The thought of you in a relationship with someone made his stomach twist in a weird way, and he didn’t like it.

It wasn’t much longer after that when you returned to the library, but you didn’t sit down. “I’m gonna go watch a movie, then hit the sack.” You had a sucker in your hand, then cupped your tongue before sucking on it for a moment, only barely keeping Dean in your peripheral view.

When his eyes found you, he clenched his jaw. She’s definitely doing it on purpose. He’d never wanted to be a sucker so badly in his life, the way you twisted it over your tongue, sucking it into your mouth, then pulling it halfway out to rest between your lips. Then, you’d do it all over again. Dean shifted slightly in his seat, trying to relieve the growing pressure against his jeans. Damnit woman.

“Alright. See you in the morning,” Sam replied nonchalantly, finally glancing over at you. An amused half-smirk found his lips when he saw the sucker, then he turned away, shaking his head a bit. She knows. Dean’s in trouble now.

“Sleep well,” Dean coughed out, leaning his arms on the table and attempting to focus on the book again. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was conflicted. He wanted to be closer to you, but at the same time, it scared the shit out of him.

You smirked, knowingly, “Night, guys. Don’t stay up all night.” And with that, you headed to your room, a light skip to your step. Sam just waved you on while Dean watched you walk away.

Once in your room, you changed into sleep shorts and a slightly baggy shirt, your favorite pajama combination for comfort. You got comfortable on your bed with your laptop, pulled up a movie, and enjoyed it while thinking of all the new ways you were going to tease Dean until he gave in enough for you to confront him.

—--------------------------

Over the next month, you took every opportunity you could find with every item of food that you could eat in any sort of teasing way. The man had a stubborn streak, and now it was a battle of wills. Who would give in first? Him out of sexual frustration, or you out of just sheer frustration of feeling invisible to him.

There were all sorts of foods that you managed to find. Pickles had been interesting to tease him with, sucking the juices out while also needing to suck the juices off of it. Then there were bananas. Dean did his damnest not to watch or let you catch him watching, but he wasn’t always as slick as he tried to be.

You kept suckers on hand, even keeping one or two in the pockets of your jeans to easily tease him at any given moment. One time, you thought you heard him groan before he shifted in his seat, but even with your hearing, it was nearly inaudible. Sam was doing his best to keep his composure, finding the entire thing hilarious while also wanting the two of you to be happy. Any utensil you ate with, you made sure to wrap your lips carefully around each bite. Strawberries and whipped cream had been fun to eat in front of him, even if he didn’t seem to be reacting outwardly much. You could smell the change in his scent, smirking slightly. Dean thought it had been difficult before to keep his thoughts in check, but now you were making it utterly impossible. He had lost count of how many times he’d had to take care of himself due to the way you were teasing him, incessantly these days. You had even managed to make eating bacon look far more delicious than just the flavor of it. He really wasn’t sure how much longer he could last before he finally snapped, mainly from sexual frustration and the fears that wouldn’t leave him.

Sam had finally had enough of it and needed a break a week into the second month. “I’m heading out to make a supply run,” he stated, already heading toward the garage.

“I’ll go with you,” Dean told him quickly, rising from where he sat in the library.

“No. You’re gonna stay here. I need a break from this- whatever it is between you and Y/N.” Sam stated bluntly, not even slowing down before disappearing into the garage, leaving Dean where he stood between the library and the war room. Thankfully for Dean, you were currently in the Dean Cave watching a movie.

With a huff, he returned to his seat and his drink, lost in thought. Things between the two of you had gotten quite tense. He just had no idea what the right course of action was. You were a supernatural creature, a Touched. He wasn’t supposed to get closer than friendship, and that was what he constantly told himself. It was far easier than letting the emotions surface that terrified him.

“Where’s Sam,” your voice behind him made him jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dean took a deep breath. He didn’t want to turn around, not with what you’d chosen to wear for the day. Those damned cut-off jean shorts and the tank top that hugged your curves and accentuated the plumpness of your breasts. It was driving him up the wall, even if he wasn’t letting it show.

“He went on a supply run,” he replied without looking over at you, sipping his whiskey and attempting to focus on his laptop. When you heard the frustration in his tone, you went over and sat adjacent to him, watching him for a few moments. “You okay?” concern laced into your words, pulling Dean’s gaze. The two of you were friends, after all.

The way your hair dipped partially over your shoulders, framing your face, made his breath hitch in his chest. Then there was the softness in your eyes, a stark contrast to the look you typically gave him when you would tease him. “Yeah. Just hope he doesn’t forget the pie this time,” Dean replied, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering.

Something in the way he looked at you made you tilt your head a bit, like there was something he wanted to say but was refusing to. “Why don’t you like me like you do human women?” you finally asked him, figuring now was as good a time as any to broach the topic.

It was the question he didn’t want to answer. Hell, how could he without sounding like a complete jerk? Dean had thought about it far too frequently since meeting you, and it only got worse as the days passed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he played dumb, trying to bide for time.

You deadpanned at his response, knowing he was playing dumb, but at the same time, not sure you wanted to call him on. With a sigh, you looked away from him, ignoring the hurt his words had brought. “Never mind,” you mumbled before just walking away, which had Dean cursing under his breath.

Two weeks later, it was your turn to go on a supply run, and god knew you needed to get out of the bunker before you went stir-crazy. There hadn’t been a single case, and it was driving you crazier than it was the brothers. Once you left, though, Sam was going to take the opportunity to confront his brother.

Dean was scrolling through a webpage, looking for a case on his laptop, sipping a glass of whiskey, and thankful you had been the one to go out. He needed a breather from you, even if you had stopped teasing him with anything you put in your mouth. At the moment, he was desperately trying to push aside the thought of you sucking on a popsicle.

Sam was only partially paying attention to what he was scrolling through, glancing often at his brother, carefully debating his words before finally leaning back in his seat. “So, what’s up with you and Y/N?”

The sudden break in the silence made Dean jump, “Nothing’s up. We’re friends and hunting partners,” he answered absentmindedly, not wanting to talk about it.

Crossing his arms, Sam continued watching him, wondering if he could get to the truth Dean was clearly hiding. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She likes you.” Dean gave Sam a dumb look, like he had no idea what he was talking about. Playing stupid was easier than arguing with him right now, at least for Dean. “No she doesn’t. She’s just naturally nice,” he countered, as it wasn’t a complete lie. You were naturally nice, to everyone.

“You really are an idiot,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “That, or you’re playing dumb.” He met his brother's gaze, determined to get him to see the truth. “She likes you. She might even have a crush on you. I know you aren’t blind. Y/N has tried everything short of stripping in front of you to get your attention. What’s keeping you from seeing how things might go between the two of you? If only Sam knew that you’d almost done that, walking from the bathroom clad in only a towel on more occasions than Dean cared to admit to. “Just drop it, Sam.” Dean attempted to stop the conversation dead in its tracks. Sam just stared at his brother for a moment, debating his next set of words, carefully. “What are you so afraid of then? That you’ll lose her? She can’t die.” Dean practically glared at him, sucking his teeth as his jaw clenched slightly. “She may not be able to die, but that doesn’t mean a monster couldn’t use her to get to me.” “So, you’re going to take away her choice in the matter. If a monster wanted to use her, they already could because she hunts with us. Or did you forget about that part?” Sam countered, an almost proud, slightly smug smirk on his lips as he crossed his arms.

Far too many things went through Dean’s brain that he quickly dismissed letting out of his mouth. What argument could he use that Sam wouldn’t counter with some other sort of logic? Yeah, you were a Touched, a supernatural creature, but at the same time, you were so human. “I just can’t, alright,” Dean stated, but there was no conviction in his tone.

Sam’s expression softened as his heart went out to his brother’s plight. “Would you stop worrying about things you can’t control? I really think the two of you could be happy together. I wish you could see that.” The compassion in his words made Dean look away from him and back at the laptop.

Dean hated the logic his brother used and even though he was staring at the current webpage, looking for a case, his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t want to admit that he not only found you physically attractive but that you had one of the kindest souls he had ever met. Then, there was everything in between.

You were a smartass, sassy, stubborn, and confident. It was those moments when he had caught you purring that he had to fight against. The sound pulled at him, wanting to feel the vibrations against his body. He and Sam had both looked up information on cats, especially when you would sit on things that typically weren’t meant for sitting.

Dean ran a hand through his hair just as Sam opened his mouth again. “I know you don’t think you’re worth her affection or that somehow you’ll bring her down into your darkness. Personally, I think she’s exactly what you need, and you’re what she needs.” And with that, Sam went back to his laptop, letting Dean stew over the things he had said.

—---------------------------

The store had been far busier than your liking, but you did manage to get everything on the list. You weren’t much of a people person, but just being out of the bunker for a few hours had been precisely what you needed. A couple of guys flirted with you in the store, so you had flirted back, but left it at that. You didn’t want to admit that you more than liked Dean, feeling utterly stupid for falling for a hunter. When you pulled into the bunker’s garage and parked, you let your head fall against the top of the steering wheel. “Stupid emotions,” you mumbled as you turned off the engine with a sigh.

After taking a deep breath, you got out of your car and began grabbing the groceries, loading your arms up with several bags. You were trying not to be lost in your thoughts, but these days, that was nearly impossible, and when you stepped through the garage door, you bumped right into Dean.

He quickly reached out and held your upper arms to keep you from falling just as your eyes met his. “Sorry,” you quickly apologized, then moved past him toward the kitchen.

Dean followed you with his eyes as his brow furrowed slightly. To him, you seemed off. “Talk to her,” Sam told him in a hushed tone, walking past him into the garage to help unload.

An annoyed groan left Dean’s lips as he followed his brother, grabbing the last of the bags, but when he grabbed the last one, his heart fluttered. You hadn’t forgotten his pie. You never forgot his pie. That realization made his head snap up and to the garage door. Sam had been right, and it was in all the little things that had nothing to do with you teasing the hell out of him.

He sighed as his head fell a little, making his way into the kitchen to join you and Sam. The two of you were moving around each other as you both put things away. Sam teasing you at the moment because you were short and couldn’t reach to put the flour in the cabinet. Dean chuckled to himself as he set the bags down on the island, then began helping to put it all away.

Your focus was on the groceries, forcing yourself not to look at Dean. When he had kept you from stumbling earlier, you swore you had stopped breathing for a moment with as close as he was. Then there was the warmth of his hands through your flannel, and before you could let your mind or emotions wander, you had to pull away.

If I was human…

The thought made you frown as you put the six-pack of beer in the fridge. Just focus on the groceries, you kept telling yourself, and it helped you do just that. So much so that you didn’t notice Dean give his brother a look or that Sam had left the kitchen only moments later. You were focusing on the cereal at the moment, moving the open boxes so you could put the new ones in the back.

“Thanks, for remembering the pie,” Dean told you, both appreciative and tenderly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, keeping your eyes on your task. Now is not the time to get lost in his eyes, you told yourself.

You felt him standing near you, but you couldn’t let yourself look over at him. “Want some help?” he asked, a little nervous that he was letting himself get this close to you.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” you replied, keeping your tone as normal as possible.

Dean frowned, This is harder than I thought. He watched you as you slipped another new box of cereal into the cabinet, standing on your tiptoes to do so. It brought a slight smirk to his lips, but he reached up, setting his hand over yours to help you push the box further onto the shelf. His touch made you jump a little, your heart sped up, and it felt like it was hard to take a deep breath. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. He hadn’t moved his hand from yours, even after the box of cereal was put away and you tried to grab another one. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still looking down at you.

Goosebumps danced their way down your arms as you dared to look up at him. There was something in his eyes that you were almost afraid to acknowledge. As your mind raced, you kept your emotions masked. “Sorry for what?” you asked, tilting your head just a bit in that curious cat way Dean always found adorable. Playing completely clueless seemed easier than hoping.

She’s gonna make me say it, he thought to himself, groaning internally. He’d never been good with words. “For the other day. I do like you. I just don’t want to…” he answered nervously, but still hadn’t taken his hand off yours even after you rested it on the countertop. You could see his internal struggle, although you didn’t completely understand why he’d be having one. The way you watched him curiously brought a small smile to his lips. He couldn’t help it since he’d said he liked you. “Don’t want to what?” you asked, more curious than you were a moment ago, especially when you saw that smile toying with his lips.

He took a shaky breath, giving himself a mental pep-talk that he could do this. Monsters were easy to deal with. Being vulnerable like this, with you, that scared the shit out of him. “...lose you,” he whispered, swallowing down the lump in his throat at the mere thought of it.

Even though you weren’t his, he couldn’t lose you, not to a monster. But if you rejected him or walked away, that would have hurt more. He didn’t want more pain, more loss, and you could see it in his eyes.

Dean watched as your expression softened and nearly jumped when he felt your palm against his chest over his heart. “You can’t lose me. I’m in here,” you whispered.

Without warning, he pulled you against him, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your hip as his lips found yours. He groaned into your lips when you kissed him back with just as much passion as he had. Then there was the way your fingers tangled in his hair, and he knew he was a goner.

Your other hand was still over his heart, but now you were holding onto his shirt as your eyes closed, getting lost in the moment. Please don’t let me be dreaming. Wanting to be that much closer to him, you stood on your tiptoes, deepening the kiss further. His lips felt like soft pillows against your own, and when his tongue teased your lips, asking for entrance, you parted your lips so your tongues could dance.

Neither of you noticed Sam leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed with the biggest smile on his face. It’s about fucking time. And with that thought, he went back to the library, back to his research, praying that the two of you would finally find some peace in each other’s arms.

He eventually pulled away, but only far enough so he could rest his forehead against yours. Your lips were everything he had imagined in his mind and so much more. His heart was pounding, his breathing ragged, his nerves buzzing, and you saw all of it when he looked into your eyes again.

A smirk slowly found your lips. It was playful, mischievous, teasing, and it had Dean’s heart fluttering as his breath hitched in his chest. There were questions behind your gaze, but there was something else, something he didn’t want to hope for.

You leaned up, “Bet you taste better than a popsicle,” you whispered teasingly, then pulled away, still smirking as you sauntered out of the kitchen.

Dean’s jaw nearly hit the floor as he watched you. He figured the two of you would take things far slower than what you had insinuated, and for a moment, all he could do was stand there, dumbfounded. A moment or two passed before he could shake his head and come back to his senses. Then he dashed out of the kitchen, finding you only halfway through the war room.

Minx. He licked his lips, a knowing smirk finding them afterward as he began to move toward you just as you looked over your shoulder. He’d know that look anywhere. That come get me look, and it was all for him. Just as he took another step toward you, you giggled and took off toward the hallway.

A deep, needy groan rumbled in his chest as he chased after you, your laughter only spurring him on. Sam just sat at the library table, trying to focus on his laptop, but upon hearing the two of you like this, he smiled, knowing that you’d both find something with each other that neither of you were ready to voice.

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casdeans-pie · 2 years ago

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Combining these and writing fic at 12am *chefs kiss*

Thanks for the added detail that made me write this @dreampencil

---Read on AO3---

-------

The first time it happened, Cas almost convinced Dean that it hadn’t.

It was a hazard of the job that hunting ghosts inevitably led to grimy, abandoned, pile of crap houses that looked like a vengeful spirit’s wet dream. Full of rotted wood, endless layers of dust, and freaking spiders. Dean had probably seen more spiders than anyone ever should. But it was fine, because he wasn’t scared of them – he didn’t think there was a hunter alive who could do what they do and go where they go if they were – spiders were just a nuisance. A pest of the ghost-hunting variety. Dean thought nothing of wiping them from his hands or clothes or pushing through thick webs that always seemed to get everywhere.

So, when he noticed a particularly leggy spider creeping over the spikes of Cas’s hair during a hunt, of course he was going to brush it away.

Nobody wants a spider in their hair. Angel or not.

It hadn’t even been that much of a touch.

The two of them had been searching through what remained of the rotted kitchen cabinets while Sam looked upstairs, when Dean noticed the spider. In retrospect, maybe he should have said something first, but Cas had been engrossed in the contents of an old wooden drawer and Dean’s hand had simply twitched up to brush away the eldritch creature nesting in Cas’s hair before he’d even registered what he was doing.

Cas jumped violently as soon as Dean’s fingers made contact.

The single bare light bulb in the room hummed loudly as it flared and flickered. An old radio (covered in layers of years of grime and dust) crackled to life, despite being long disconnected from the power, and poured out a steady stream of static.

Then everything stopped.

The light returned to normal, the radio went silent, and Dean’s hand remained hovered awkwardly in the air where it had been since he brushed the spider away.

Cas stared at him with wide eyes.

Dean pointed at Cas’s head. “There was a- spider. In your hair,” he explained. “But uh- don’t worry, I got it.” Dean flashed him a smile, as if he’d performed a great service, and wiped his hand on his jeans. He took a step over to the radio and held up the disconnected cable. “Cas. The power just now-”

“Bad wiring,” Cas rumbled, holding Dean’s gaze. “Or maybe the ghost.”

Dean gave an unconvinced hum as he dropped the cable and rubbed his fingertips together. Cas’s hair had been softer than he’d expected… Not that he’d ever thought about running his hands through it or anything. But before Dean could linger on any of the new thoughts he was having, or ask another question about the mysterious power surge, the air had gone cold, and they were both ducking from a barrage of decorative plates flying around the room.

And Dean forgot all about it.

---Read the rest on AO3---

---

The first time it happened, Cas almost convinced Dean that it hadn’t.

The second time it happened was just part of a joke, an accident.

The third time it happened was an experiment.....

The fourth time it happened was on purpose.

#I will never be over this trope #destiel #destiel ficlet #deancas #destiel drabble #pie's projects #my fanfiction #castiel's angel powers #castiel headcanon #destiel headcanon

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deanwinchestersbabygirll · 1 year ago

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Needed you Pt 2 ~ Castiel’s version

-warnings// lots of smut, angst and fluff

Needed you pt 1

Castiel x reader ( slight dean x reader)

-word count// 2202

(gif from Pinterest)

It was the next morning and you woke up to the bed empty and cold, you let out a low sigh disappointed you didn't wake up to the handsome angel, you pulled the thin blanket to cover your chest, grabbing your phone you see a notification from Dean

'Hey sweetheart, listen I'm really sorry for how much of an ass I was to you before leaving, I didn't mean any of it, I know that's no excuse, I think we should have a talk when Sammy and I come back, just us, I want to talk to you about some things.'

This made your heart race, is Dean going to kick you out of the bunker? yeah sure he apologised but maybe he's only apologising because Sam made him? You let out a shaky breath as your anxiety got the best of you you replied with a quick okay and shut your phone off

You wondered if you should pray to Castiel and see where he is, before you can even say his name he's there "you called?" He asked standing at the edge of the bed staring at your nude form that's hid behind the flimsy motel sheet

you bit your lip as your cheeks turned a red tint under the angles strong gaze "I was about too actually, what time did you leave" you asked pulling the sheet tighter to you, Castiel moved to sit next to you "six this morning there was trouble in heaven I had to see too" he said taking your small hand in his bigger one "I was worried you regretted what happened last night" you confessed

Castiel shook his head "I would never regret being with you Y/N" Cas replied making you blush as you tried to hide your growing smile "I'd never regret being with you either Cas" you told him as you leaned over to grasp his lips gently in a kiss, he deepened the kiss as he held your jaw softly in his hand

The kiss soon grew heated as the angel slid his tongue in past your swollen lips as you let out a wordless moan, you felt him gently push you to lay back down on the bed and the sheet gently fell around your sides revealing your breasts to the cool air of the motel.

Castiel gently pulled away from the kiss making you whine and chase after his lips, you rushed to take off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, he threw them to the ground revealing his toned chest, staring up at him with a sultry smile you dragged your fingers down his chest before undoing his belt buckle and zipper, you gently pulled his boxers down revealing his hard cock to you,

You gently wrapped your hand around his shaft and placed a small kiss to this tip making him let out a small groan, you slowly started to move your hand up and down his cock causing him to throw his head back and shut his eyes tight in pleasure "Y/N please" he begged making you smirk

You then took his hard cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you began bobbing your head up and down in a slow and steady pace

He wrapped big hand around your hair to encourage you to take him deeper down your throat causing you to gag slightly on his length "are you alright?" Cas asked worried, you gave him a thumbs up and got back to work with his cock, milking him for everything the angel could possibly offer

"Y/N!" He moaned loudly as he came in hot spurts hot cum down your throat, you gently pulled away from him as you swallowed

The angel kicked his pants all the way off before laying you down on the bed, kissing his way down your breasts making you moan his name as he continued his venture down your body, stopping at your hot core "please angel" you said slightly breathless

Cas smirked as he gently spread your legs wider, revealing you completely to him, you let out a low moan as you felt the cool air hot core, Cas licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, you shuddered at the pleasure and begged him for more "please Cas I need you"

The Angel complied as sucked your attention deprived clit into his mouth, he coated his fingers in your juices as he entered them both inside of you, you let out squeal and arched your back off the bed, Cas curled his fingers and thrusted them upwards hitting your G- spot as he sucked you clit "oh god Cas I'm gonna come!" You screamed, you hand running through his hair pushing him closer to you as sped up his actions, you continued to let out small moans of his name as the knot in your stomach burst and you came hard on Castiel's tongue

The angel groaned kept thrusting his fingers until you orgasm had washed over you, once your legs began to shake Cas pulled away from you and kissed your lips, you moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue when he deepened the kiss, you wrapped your shaky legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you "I need you so bad cas" you begged

The angel complied as he placed his hard cock at your entrance, pushing inside you slowly, inch by inch, you moaned against Cas's lips and he slipped his tongue in your mouth, wrestling with you own as he thrusted deep inside of you, hitting your G-spot with his tip every thrust "faster please baby" you cried out, Cas obeyed, gripping your hips tightly in his hands as he pounded inside of you "oh god! Yes Castiel!" You screamed dragging your finger nails down his back leaving deep red lines that would soon fade into the angels skin

"You feel incredible Y/N!" Cas groaned as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure and your breasts bounced at the force of every one of his thrusts "i won't last long" you struggled to say "neither will I" Cas said and continued his movements and you soon felt your orgasm come crashing down on you "Cas oh god yes!" You squealed his name on pleasure, Cas groaned and started thrusting faster, triggering his own orgasm, his came inside of you, hot spurts of cum coating your walls as he moaned your name over and over again

Cas pulled out of you after a few more calculated thrusts, he lay down beside you and pulled your tired body right against his "you know for last night being your first time having sex, your pretty fucking good at it" you told him, Cas smiled and kissed your forehead "I learned a lot from the pizza man" the angel said completely serious making you burst into laughter "oh sweetie… that's why you're so adorable" you smiled up at him.

For the next few days while you waited for the boys to get back you and Castiel wandered around the quaint town, taking in the small scenery however you could only enjoy so much of your time together when you were waiting to talk to Dean... what could he possibly want to talk about?

It was 10m and you and Cas were sat in the motel room waiting for the boys, Sam called a while ago to say they'd be back in an hour. You tapped your fingers along the styrofoam cup of your coffee as you waited your doom "why are you anxious?" The angel asked his head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed as he observed your fidgeting "I'm fine Cas, Dean just wants to talk to me about something so I'm a little worried about what" you told him and he nodded "I hope it's to apologise for how he hurt you" you shook your head swallowing a sip of your bitter coffee "he already did actually on the text… it's something else he wants to-"

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of the creaky motel door opening "hey we're back" Sam said sporting some new wounds on his face, you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding and ran to hug the giant hunter "I'm so glad you guys are okay" you mumbled into Sam's shoulder" he wrapped his arms around you tightly "yeah me too it was a rough one, really could have done with back up on it" Sam confessed

“I promise I’ll be there to help next time Sammy” you pulled back from the big hug Turning to a sheepish looking Dean who was sporting a gash across his cheek and a busted lip “…hey” he said his gaze focused on his feet, your face grew hot as your felt the anger bubble in you chest “hey? Are you serious right now! First you basically tell me I’m worthless to you, that you don’t care if I live or die oh and then you send me a text apologising, which by the way doesn’t count as a real apology, and now all you have to say is hey? Are you fucking kidding me dean!” You yelled making all three boys stare at you in shock

“no I- I have a lot more to say, I just I don’t know how to do it. Look can we go somewhere and just talk in private?” dean asked his cheeks turning redder by the second “alright fine by me, let’s go” you grumbled out and stomped past him toward the impala dean following close behind.

“So what did you want to tell me Dean?” You asked with venom laced in your voice “Y/N, I’m so sorry for what I said to you, I didn’t mean it… I just-I- son of a bitch I don’t know how to say this” dean stuttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration

you sighed, placing your hand on his to calm him down, Dean turned to look at you “just talk to me dean” you told him softly rubbing your thumb along his rough hand. He let out a deep sigh before leaning forward capturing your lips with his in a fierce kiss, you kissed him back wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, Dean slipped his tongue passed your lips, you pulled back suddenly “wait Dean, I can’t” you told him

“I’m sorry I just I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you I just thought I could show you, son of a- I’m an idiot” dean chocked out moving back against the drivers door, you leaned toward him “no dean your not an idiot, it’s just Cas and I are together now” you confessed and he nodded in understanding “dean I used to really like you, Sam used to try and get me to tell you but I was scared, and you didn’t seem interested, especially with how mean you could be to me.. I honestly thought you hated me so I started talking to Cas and we’ve gotten really close over the past couple years he became my best friend and I started to have feelings for him and it turns out he liked me too” you told Dean as tears streamed down your face

Dean smiled at you “I get it, I hope you guys are really happy together, you deserve to be happy” he said quickly before scrambling out of the car

You jumped out after him trying to talk to him as he headed towards town “Dean wait, please don’t walk away from me” you cried out but he didn’t stop.

You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down as your headed toward Sam and your boyfriend, Sam was on his feet as soon as you walked in the room “hey what happened? Where’s Dean?” He questioned when he seen the tears streaming down your face “we talked about some things and he headed towards town, I think you should check on him” Sam nodded and headed out to find his brother

“What did dean wish to speak to you about” the angel asked as he sat next to you on the bed you sighed and wiped the tears from your face “dean and I had a lot to unfold and secrets came out into the opening and he walked off upse- god this is horrible I never wanted to hurt him like that… I haven’t seen him so upset in a long time” you cried and Cas pulled you into him “It’ll be okay, I’ve got you” he said placing a kiss on the top of your head “thanks Cas that means a lot to me” you said placing a kiss on his scruffy jaw

The angel turned to gaze into your eyes with a loving stare, he placed his lips on yours in a small kiss “I’m falling in love with you Y/N Y/LN” he confessed to you making your heart swell in your chest “I’m falling in love with you too Castiel”.

___________________________________________

ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

Finally the long awaited part 2 of my Castiel imagine, hope you all like it… and incase anyone was wondering I couldn’t help myself but make a Dean version too ;) that’ll be out very soon, for my Castiel girlies please enjoy

to the guys that wanted tagged in part 2 I promise I didn’t forget about you :))

@sluttysammyy

@nescavaneck

@star-yawnznn

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somethings-are-meant-tobe · 1 day ago

Text

Beneath Bloodied Skies

Purgatory was a nightmare. A never-ending cycle of hunting or being hunted. But somehow, the worst part of it all wasn’t the monsters. It was Castiel.

---

Dean had searched everywhere. Fought through packs of Leviathans, gutted ghouls, clawed his way through endless blood-soaked terrain—and then he found him.

Cas, sitting by a river of black water, looking like he had all the time in the damn world.

Dean stalked toward him, fury bubbling over. “What the hell, man? I’ve been tearing this place apart looking for you!”

Castiel barely looked up. “I know.”

Dean stopped in his tracks, taken aback. He knew?

His jaw clenched. “Then why didn’t you—”

Cas finally met his gaze, eyes dark with something unreadable. “Because it’s safer this way.”

Dean let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, bullshit.” He advanced, grabbing Castiel’s coat and yanking him to his feet. “You think ditching me was the answer? That it’d keep me safe? Newsflash, buddy, I’m alive because I don’t fight alone.”

Cas held his ground, staring back at him, unflinching. But there was something beneath the surface, something fractured.

“You don’t understand, Dean,” Cas murmured.

Dean’s grip tightened. “Then make me understand.”

Cas hesitated. His gaze flickered to Dean’s lips for a split second—so fast Dean almost thought he imagined it. Almost.

“I don’t want you to die because of me.”

Dean exhaled sharply. “Too bad. ‘Cause I’m not letting you go.”

---

Days bled into weeks, the three of them moving as a unit, carving a path through Purgatory’s horrors. But Dean was getting real sick of Cas throwing himself into danger.

“You can’t just do that, Cas!” Dean snapped after the angel had launched himself at a nest of vamps alone. “I had a plan!”

Cas wiped blood from his blade. “They were a threat.”

Dean groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no shit. But we’re supposed to have each other’s backs, not run off playing hero!”

Cas tilted his head, frowning. “You do it all the time.”

“That’s different.”

Cas’s jaw clenched. “Why?”

Dean faltered. He didn’t have a good answer—at least, not one that wouldn’t expose the truth. That every time Cas threw himself into the line of fire, something inside Dean twisted, a fear he couldn’t name taking root in his chest.

The words burned on his tongue, but he swallowed them down.

Instead, he scoffed. “Whatever, man. Just—just don’t do it again.”

Cas held his gaze for a moment too long. Then, he nodded.

But Dean wasn’t convinced.

---

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Dean had been half-asleep, lying by the fire after a brutal hunt. Cas sat beside him, keeping watch.

Then, the angel shifted—just a slight movement, but his knee brushed against Dean’s.

Neither of them moved.

Dean felt the warmth seep through his torn jeans, the contact setting off something restless in his gut.

Cas didn’t pull away.

And Dean didn’t make him.

After that, it kept happening. Small touches, fleeting but deliberate. Fingers brushing when they handed each other weapons. A palm resting on Dean’s back when he nearly stumbled.

One night, they took shelter in a cave. It was cold—bone-deep cold—and Dean didn’t think twice before pressing closer to Cas’s side.

Cas tensed, but only for a moment. Then, hesitantly, carefully, he lifted his arm, draping it over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s breath hitched.

Neither of them spoke.

But Dean didn’t sleep that night. Not with the way his body craved the touch he pretended he didn’t need.

---

Dean didn’t remember how they got separated. One second, they were side by side, blades cutting through a pack of wraiths—then Cas was gone.

Dean lost it.

He searched for days, exhaustion eating at him, his body running on fumes. He’d been alone before, but this was different. The silence was too loud. The air too empty.

For the first time in his life, Dean admitted it to himself.

He needed Cas.

---

When he finally found him, Dean didn’t think. Didn’t stop. He just moved.

He crashed into Cas, gripping his coat like a lifeline. “You son of a bitch,” he rasped. “You left me.”

Cas’s hands hovered uncertainly at Dean’s sides. “Dean, I—”

“Shut up,” Dean choked out. His forehead pressed against Cas’s shoulder, breath shaking. “Don’t ever do that again. Ever.”

Cas exhaled softly. Then, finally, his arms wrapped around Dean, pulling him in, grounding him. “I won’t.”

Dean pulled back just enough to look at him. Their faces were close—too close.

Cas’s eyes flickered to his lips. This time, Dean didn’t imagine it.

The air was thick, electric.

And then Dean moved.

He surged forward, crushing their lips together. Cas made a soft, surprised noise before melting into it, hands gripping Dean’s jacket like he was afraid to let go.

Dean kissed him hard, pouring every sleepless night, every lingering touch, every ache into it.

When they finally broke apart, Dean rested his forehead against Cas’s.

“Guess I’m in love with you, huh?” he murmured, breathless.

Cas smiled, small but certain. “I think I’ve always known.”

Dean let out a shaky chuckle. “Yeah. You and me both, buddy.”

And in the middle of all the blood and the chaos, in the heart of the darkest place imaginable—Dean Winchester had finally found something worth holding on to.

#destiel #castiel #misha collins #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester #jensen ackles #cockles #destiel art #destiel fanfic

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sawlover353 · 2 months ago

Text

Castiel x reader

Reader can be either genders

No pronouns discussed??

A/N: this chapter is a fluff! Also you call castiel cassie sometimes!

Warnings: mentions of blood, slight undressing (male only), top half of body undressed (male) mild description of a male body (abdomen up), kissing, mild language, romantic thoughts.

—————————

Doing laundry, Its a regular occurrence for you and doing it for someone else too. You always offered to do Sam and Dean’s laundry, to which they always accepted. Doing laundry definitely was not new to you, but what was new, was helping Castiel do his because he’s now a human. Usually he could use his grace to freshen up but you offered to help him with everything that came with being human, laundry being one of them.

Luckily for both of you, with Castiel being covered in blood, the laundromat was empty.

But one thing you couldn’t help but think about? Castiel without the trench coat on. You loved it, but the thought of what was underneath it?

Cas stood in front of the washing machine, looking at you questionably for a moment before shrugging and immediately taking his trench coat off. You expected to tell him to take them off and how to use the machine, but he seems pretty confident.

You stood there, your arms crossed and smiling as you watched him, very amused. Castiel turned to you as he put his trench coat in the washing machine.

“This- what im doing is correct, isn’t it?”

He questioned, his bright blue eyes staring into your y/e/c eyes.

“Uh yeah!” You assured.

Castiel nodded slowly, still slightly unsure, but he trusted your word. His gaze slowly looked into the washing machine, and his gaze held that usual innocent but curious look to it. You had to be honest, there was something about his curiousness that made your heart skip beats. There were Sam girls, there were Dean girls, but you were always a Cas girl, no matter what. You know, how could anyone not find him adorable.

He fiddled with a whole in his his shirt as he turned his body to completely face you.

“Now what?” He asked

“You put whatever else you want to be washed in.” You explained, definitely not expecting what was to come.

Castiel looked towards his bloodied up suit for a moment before slowly nodding, taking his suit of carefully. He placed the jacket in with the trench coat with ease, but that soon vanished when it came to his shirt. He struggled to take the buttons off. Noticing him struggling you laughed a little bit. He turned to face you and huffed.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You replied, mildly trying to keep it together.

Cas looked at you for a moment, a slightly suspicious glare in his eyes, until his shirt was completely off. He stood in front of you now shirtless. Castiel was usually covered by his trench coat and suit, so you hadn’t seen him so exposed and shirtless before.

His muscles. Damn.

Your cheeks grew slightly hot, and you could feel yourself staring slightly.

Castiel stared at you like usual, his curiousity only growing as he noticed your flushed face.

“Why are you red?” He questioned, taking a small step closer to you, and that’s when you could see everything, his toned muscles and tanned skin.

“Its just hot in here” you lied.

Cas slowly nodded, accepting the excuse as usual. He took more small steps towards you, the angel- well human, didn’t overly understand the concept of “personal space”

He had his usual serious expression, but his stare was intense.

“Your face is getting redder.” He pointed out as his deep voice only caused a pit further into your stomach.

“Yeah its just hot, anways, turn the machine on.” You said, hoping to get the attention off of you.

You loved Castiel, no, loved was an understatement, you were enthralled, captivated, entranced and a million other fancy words you couldn’t even verbalise. You would do anything for him. It wasnt even just his vessel you found so attractive, his soul, his personality, his essence, everything about him, physical or not, had you head over hills. You weren’t a “poem person” but sure you had written a few about him, you swooned like a teenage girl.

You snapped back out of your thoughts as you heard the beep of the machine, meaning cas had turned it on.

“Do you remember the setting?” You asked.

Castiel stood still for a moment, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to remember something. He paused for a moment and turned back to you, his usual serious expression still present on his face.

“Cold wash, low spin cycle, on delicate.” He replied, his deep voice only causing more butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Yeah, thats right.” You replied.

Castiel nodded, seemingly proud of himself for remembering. He turned his body back to face you. He took a small step closer, sending more butterflies to your stomach, he looked down at you, his bright blue eyes staring into yours, in some type of staring contest laced with tension, only you hoped it was sexual tension.

“Cas.” You whispered.

Castiels eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden tone of your voice, he tilted his head to the side as he usually did when he was confused, you said his name in a way that almost made him stop in his tracks.

“Yes?” He replied immediately in his deep and monotonous voice, but you swore you could make out a tiny change in his tone, making his voice sound the tiniest bit sweeter.

“You didn’t press start.” I gesture to the machine.

Castiel blinked, immediately darting his head to look at the machine. He had indeed not pressed start, he was too focused, staring into your eyes. His face, the still serious stare but with that tint of softness fell slightly at his mistake.

“Oh- right.” He walked over and pressed the start button.

You let a breath out that you didn’t even know you were holding.

Cas glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression turning from one of a frown to slight concern.

“Why are you breathing so heavily?” He asked.

“Its just hot.” You lied, again.

Castiel paused again, his eyes narrowing again slightly, like he’s studying every word and movement you made.

“Hm. You already said that and yet your face is still getting slightly redder.” He said, if it weren’t for the deep and dull voice, you would have thought he was mocking you, teasing even.

“I should wait outside.” You blurted out.

Cas was quick to move grabbing your wrist as you went to walk away.

“No.” He said, his tone was still serious but you could tell there was desperation in his voice, he wanted you to stay for some reason. Once he realised he was holding your wrist tightly he softened his grip.

“Cas.” You say weakly.

Castiel huffed, trying to find the right words. He hated not being able to convey how he was feeling. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, the desperation in his voice only growing more apparent.

“I…I don’t want you to go, Y/N.” He replied, his tone softer than before, he knew his answer wasn’t enough.

You knew you had to tell the truth, express how you really felt, lets just hope castiel didn’t think u were weird for it.

“Cas…” you whispered again.

Castiel took another few steps towards you.

“Do you want the truth?” You asked

Castiel paused for a moment, taken aback by the question, he started at you for a moment before answering.

“Yes I want the truth.” He replied

Here goes….

“I love you cassie, more than a friend. You’re on my mind all the time, present in every breath I take, every thought I think. I understand as an angel you might not understand or feel the same, but you’re the reason I get up every morning, the reason why I go to sleep is so I don’t have to wait to see you next, every moment im around you, im happy, I love you, angel or human, not even just for your vessel’s appearance, for your soul. I would give my life for yours, I would do anything for you.”

You blurt out, looking down as you realise you really overshared.

Unbeknownst to you, as you were to trapped in your own thoughts and embarrassed, Castiel’s eyes widened as you spoke, his expression immediately dropping any serious look it had and was now replaced with shock, and happiness. Your words hit him like a bullet as he realised he had no ides you loved him more than a friend. He was stunned, staring at you with his moutb slightly open in shock, not knowing what to say or do.

You still had you head down in…shame? Embarrasment? Feeling fully exposed of all your feelings towards the angel in front of you.

You stuttered something under you breath, barely reaching a whisper.

Castiel was speechless, he had been an angel for some millennia, but nobody has ever confessed their love for him before. He was at a total loss for words. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to speak but knowing no words woukd compare to the ones that just left your lips.

After a minute or two, he found some words, not very good, but something.

“You..you really feel like that?” His voice broke the ear ringing silence, his tone showing shock but also, hope..and need? He needed to know if you were telling the truth.

“Yes.” You mumbled.

Castiel was silent for a second, a mixture of shock, hope, happiness and bewilderment in his expression. He took a small step closer to you.

“Look up at me, please.” He whispered.

You don’t react.

Castiel left out a small huff before grabbing your chin and softly moving your head up to look at him. Castiel stared into your eyes, his expression was back to serious but there was something else in his eyes, like he was taking every last inch of you in.

You slowly began to whisper, losing control to your own thoughts again.

“Your eyes are like an icy lake, I could stare into them until I am forced to blink”

That caught castiel off guard, he wasn’t expecting more compliments. He started to smile softly, not overly noticeable.

��Is that a good thing?” He asked, you simply nodded.

“Why do you feel this way about me?” He asked.

“You are the most inconceivable person I have ever met.”

Castiel paused for a moment, he felt himself go speechless again. He slowly moved his hand towards you before stopping, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you, you nodded and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch was hesitant and soft. He slowly moved his hands to cup both sides of your face, his touch still light, you lead up slightly.

After a moment Cas realised what you were doing and leaned down, you put your arms around hid neck and leaned up all the way, closing the gap and gently kissing him. Cas immediately gave in, closing his eyes and his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close, like he was scared you would pull away. His grip was firm, but not so firm that he would hurt you. He slowly kissed you back. You two continued softly kissing eachother for another minute or so, before the washing machine beeped, signaling the cycle was done. You and Cas broke apart, both silently cursing the washing machine for ruining your moment.

#castiel novak #supernatural #castiel x reader #castiel #spn #fluff

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according2thelore · 1 month ago

Note

Holup

Listen

Wat if Old!Sam appears in the bunker and meets LS/ES Dean and Sam???

Like imagine Old!Sam encountering either Deans for a second and thought he finally kicked the bucket and went to heaven, only for their respective Sams to appear???

The heartbreak??? The confusion??? Is he having a stroke??? The Cage!!!????

And ES/LS brothers are quietly panicking while watching this old man spiralling 😭😭😭

Old!Sam stumbles as he backs up to the nearest wall, calling for Dean (his son) and the ES/LS brothers like, 'Oh? OH! [His] Dean must be here somewhere, one of yall calm him down while we search' 😭😭😭😭

hi, anon!!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!! i am kissing your brain for this incredible idea!!! holy shit!!!!!

Old!Sam automatically assumes he's dead when he stumbles across LS!Dean in the bunker, after stumbling around confused for a second. his smile is blinding and he runs forward into dean's arms--stumbling really, hobbling--before backing up and asking how he died. because he doesn't remember dying. and he's worried, now, that Dean Jr will find him drowned in the bath or with a gun in his hand.

then ES!Dean rounds the corner and it all goes to shit.

Old!Sam hasn't had a cage nightmare in a while. time's been cruel. it took more memories of dean's smile and laugh than it did of lucifer's hands in his guts and knife-sharp laughter, but he still hasn't had a nightmare this vivid in over five years.

LS!Dean barely manages to catch him before he collapses, and ES!Dean runs over to help.

he won't stop saying, "no, no. it can't. i got out. cas got me out. i have memories. i'm living a life. no. no--"

when Old!Sam starts calling for his son, the ES/LS brothers decide that the Sams should go looking for him.

because if Old!Dean is hobbling around here, he will absolutely start shooting his younger self before asking questions. whereas if he sees a young sam, he might be more open to reason.

LS!&ES!Dean help Old!Sam into the kitchen and sit him down gently in one of the chairs. he is of course ashen and looking in between the deans like he's just seen the pearly gates and told there must have been a mix up. he doesn't seem to trust them but he literally won't let go of ES!Dean's forearm.

they eventually sit on either side of him and start gently probing. how did you get here? what's the last thing you remember? was i with you? older me, i guess?

and even though Old!Sam tries to hide it, he keeps looking away when they say his name.

it occurs to both of them at the same time, and they can see it dawn on their faces.

LS!Dean moves his chair so he's facing Old!Sam head-on.

"we don't make it, do we baby boy?" LS!Dean asks softly, gesturing at ES!Dean, and Old!Sam just chokes on a sob and leans forward into his arms, shaking so hard that ES!&LS!Dean share a look over his head. how many years has it been since dean last let that rare term of endearment slip from his tongue? how long has it been since dean held him at all?

ES!Dean leans forward a little into their space, hand on Old!Sam's back and head leant against his side.

"i'm so tired." Old!Sam says, eventually.

"it's gonna be okay, sammy." ES!Dean says. "i promise."

and because LS!Dean knows better, he instead says, "you're almost done, sammy. you're so close."

that's how ES!Sam finds them an hour later, when a search of the bunker hasn't shown a single inch of Old!Dean. the three of them, Old!Sam in a hug that looks painful, both dean's avoiding each other's gaze and holding him while he shakes with quiet sobs.

they don't find Old!Dean, but when Old!Sam explains he's looking for his son--that his son's name is dean--LS!Dean makes a noise so strangled that he has to leave the room.

this prompt ate me alive anon--thank you so much for sending it!!! <3 and thank you so much for your patience!!!!! i hope you get to see this!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

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impala-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

His Charge

A Supernatural Story

~Y/N is remanded to Castiel's care while the Winchesters go take care of a very angry deity who had taken her hostage. While they wait, she and Castiel get into an in depth conversation about the metaphysics of his being, and she gets him to show her his wings...~

2,562 Words.

Warnings: NSFW. Talk & Loving. Fluff

A/N: Been a hot minute since I've posted any Castiel. I think you'll enjoy this. It's super good... I just reread it. lol. If you enjoy it, please reblog :)

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

“What do they look like?”

Sapphire eyes looked up through thick, black lashes to see beautiful gems staring back.

Y/N smiled behind her whiskey glass and Castiel blushed. He was far from used to such adoration or attention.

“What do what look like?” he asked, countering her question with another.

She laughed softly and set the glass down on the table. The glowing map beneath illuminated the amber liquid and cast a strange array of orange prisms across the table.

“Your wings.”

Her voice was as soft as a song, but held a hint of mischief. Castiel felt something stir deep inside of his vessel as her eyes drifted down from his face to his chest and shoulders. She lingered on his right shoulder and he denied a shiver.

Castiel cleared his throat. “They are… quite large and impressive.”

Y/N bit her lip and laughed. “That’s what she said.”

His head tipped to the left, his nose bunched in confusion. “She?”

“Never mind.”

She looked away, dipping her chin to look down into the whiskey and then back up. Only her eyes moved back to him and Castiel’s face burned hot. He hid the blush, but beneath the surface, he was going wild. His body yearned for her, but he couldn’t make himself take a chance. He hadn’t exactly had the best experiences with human women, and besides, Y/N was barely a friend, almost a stranger. She was his charge. He was there to watch over her while Sam and Dean tracked down the Druid God that was after her; his job was to save her life, not get involved sexually.

If, he thought, that’s what she even wanted.

He often had trouble discerning flirtatious behavior from simple polite conversation. Dean once slapped him on the arm and told him to read their minds, shocked that Cas had such a power but never used it to get any, but that wasn’t something Castiel could bring himself to do. Not unless they asked.

Still, without even trying, he could tell that her heart rate increased slightly when he met her gaze, that her skin flushed nearly imperceptibly when he stared a bit too intensely. He knew that her nipples were hard because he could see with an Angel’s vision through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and cotton bra. He could even smell that faint wetness that dripped down into her panties.

But still, he couldn’t make himself move.

Castiel jolted when Y/N spoke again, her fingers running slowly over the rim of the crystal tumbler. Her tone was deeper, words spilled from her lips slowly, coating him in thick warmth from head to toe.

“I wish I could see them,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “I bet they’re beautiful.”

She took a deep drink and Castiel watched as her body took it in. He saw the whiskey splash onto her tongue, flood her taste buds, slither down her throat as her muscles contracted. He could smell the woody scent of it, feel the heat as it burned the back of her throat. His stomach tightened and a wave of heat washed over his manhood. His cock twitched but he took a breath and did his best to keep his vessel under control.

He swallowed hard. “Thank you, but-”

“But what,” she interrupted, licking a drop of liquid from her lip. “They’re too big to fit in this room? They’ll knock the walls down?”

Castiel laughed bashfully. “No-”

“They’re so amazing I’ll die from a peek at them?”

He looked directly into her eyes, unconsciously reaching down into the depths of her. “Most humans cannot handle the sight of them, no.”

“That’s… horrible. What, do they explode?” She laughed gently and took another drink, emptying the glass.

“No.” He sighed. “Most cannot handle the sight of the Divine purely because their minds cannot comprehend the truth of its existence. If I were to show you my true form, for instance, it might, as they say, blow your mind.”

Y/N bit her lip to hold in a drunken laugh. She inhaled deeply, drawing herself up in her seat as she took him in. “Well, I bet they’re magnificent.”

The way her tongue curled around her words, the brightness in her darkening eyes made his stomach tighten. She was definitely flirting, of that he was now sure.

He gave a subtle nod of thanks and tried to look anywhere but at the swell of her breasts. It became increasingly difficult as she leaned onto the table on her elbows, deliberately showing them off.

“So, what other magic powers do you have?” she asked slowly, her mouth a bit numb from the drink.

“I saw you shoot lightning out of your hand, so that’s one…”

Castiel smiled and turned to set his hands on the table casually. “Not lightning, no. Grace.”

“I thought that was just something you said before dinner.”

“No?”

Y/N laughed gently. “I’m teasing you, Castiel. So your Grace is like your superpowers.”

He puckered his lips in thought. “I suppose, technically, yes. If I were a superhero.”

She laughed again, this time easier, as if comfort had truly set in. She ran her eyes over his handsome face and Castiel swallowed hard.

“Oh, you’re a superhero.”

“I don’t have a cape,” he offered.

“Capes are for attention seekers. Trench coats, however…”

He looked down at his coat, suddenly a little self conscious.

Y/N licked her lips and slowly drew the bottom in snug between her front teeth. “Every badass character I’ve ever seen on t.v. wears a trench coat.”

He relaxed, smiling. “Well, then, I suppose- thank you.”

Y/N finished her drink. “I almost died today,” she said solemnly. “A few times. Like… more than once. I think I heard Gabriel blowin’ his horn for me.”

Castiel shook his head. “Gabriel was nowhere near-” She grinned and he laughed at himself.

“You’re not one for jokes, huh?”

“I enjoy them. Just takes me a moment sometimes.”

She was quiet for a bit, watching him, deciding. Then:

“So, you’re this giant ball of light, essentially, crammed into a human body.”

He shrugged but agreed. “Essentially.”

“And where’s the… uh… human that lived there first? Or is it like a snail situation?”

“His name was Jimmy Novack,” Castiel explained softly. “And he was a true believer. He offered me his vessel and we went through many trials together.”

“But he’s not here anymore?”

The Angel shook his head. “He is up in Heaven somewhere. Hopefully happy.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I could go look for him, I suppose, but-” He paused and looked off, flashes of guilt-ridden scenes raging through his head. “Best not to disturb him.”

“I getcha.” She leaned back and crossed her arms under her chest, making her breasts pop up deliciously. Castiel held his breath. “So, you’re all alone in some human body. All the same feelings, needs… urges?”

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and this time, he let it linger. “I do not suffer human needs, no,” he said, almost instantly regretting it. Y/N nodded, a bit disappointed, and looked away. He cleared his throat and softened his tone. “I am in complete control of my vessel and I can do… those things…” Her eyes shot back to his. “If I choose to.”

A half smile turned her lips and Castiel let the warmth inside of him spread through every cell.

“If you choose to,” she echoed, biting her lip seductively. “And how often do you choose to?”

His mouth flooded with saliva and his blood began racing downwards. “Not… very often.”

Boldly, Y/N stood up and set her hand on the table. She dragged her fingers over the Pacific Ocean as she rounded the table to stand before him. Castiel could smell her arousal, feel the heat radiating off of her. She looked down at him and he met her gaze, wanting to grab her hips and pull her down, but afraid to move.

“And now?” she asked, sliding her fingertips up the California coast to steal the drink he’d never touched. Eyes still locked together, Y/N knocked back his whiskey and swallowed hard. She came back up with a slight cough and let the glass slip back over Oregon. “What do you choose now?”

He felt his testicals tighten and every part of his human body wanted to sink deep inside of her. His fingers twitched on his thighs and Castiel grabbed her hips just like he’d imagined, dragging her down into his lap.

“I choose this,” he groaned, leaning in to taste her lips while she rubbed down on his erection. She opened for him, parting her lips with a sweet slowness that nearly drove him mad. His tongue dove inside and she relented, letting him move and lick, suck and nip as he pleased.

Her hands pushed through his black hair, curled around the nape of his neck. She moaned into his mouth as he pawed at her left breast, sneaking his fingers into her shirt to pluck at her nipple. She arched into him and held on tight, dragging her hand down the center of his back.

His spine lit up with sensations and Castiel moaned loudly, pulling away from her mouth as she hit the base of his wings with her exploring hands.

Surprised, she blinked down at him. “Are you OK?”

Breathless, he nodded. “Yes.”

Y/N kissed the side of his mouth and then danced along his jaw, her hands scratching through his hair, tugging at his tie, working their way beneath the layers of suit and coat. Castiel massaged her ass, rolling his hips up into her jeans at a steady pace, loving the way she responded so easily to his motions.

She sat back suddenly and looked at him with wide eyes, irises fully blown and dark. “How- how long until the others get back?”

Unsure, Castiel closed his eyes and set out his spirit to find the Impala. They were still a state away. “A few hours, at least,” he replied, sneaking a hand up beneath her shirt.

Y/N smiled and yanked the shirt away, then her bra, coming back to him with renewed fervor. She sucked at his ear, nibbled on his non-existent pulse, kissed his stunned lips as he toyed with her breasts.

“Fuck, you feel good,” she whispered, nearly whimpering as he pinched her nipples in tandem.

“As do you…”

Y/N reached down between their legs and rubbed gently at the head of his cock. He was lost beneath too many pieces of fabric and she struggled to open his belt.

“Do you have any idea how much clothing you have on?” she teased.

Not catching the tone, Castiel’s brows furrowed. “Yes…” He gasped as she ripped the zipper down and shoved a hand into his slacks. The thin cotton boxers were no match for her probing fingers and Castiel let his head fall back as she stroked him to full hardness.

When she hopped off of him, blue eyes flew open wide, but all was understood as he watched Y/N peel her jeans away. She smiled as his gaze hovered over her plain blue panties and she held her breath while shaking those away as well.

Naked and dripping, she stood before him like a Renaissance statue. Curves and bumps, bruises and scrapes, the cream of her skin, the imperfect perfection of her; it was all there, on display, and Castiel reached for her, snaking his fingers between hers as their palms met.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, guiding her back into his lap.

She smiled against his lips and sank down onto his cock, drawing a deep moan from him. “So are you.”

She rode him slowly at first, rolling her hips gently as they kissed. When her hand slid behind his back again, he shuddered so deeply and jerked his hips upwards so quickly that she shivered and picked up her pace.

“Let me see them,” she whispered, running her hand over that sensitive spot on his back again.

Castiel groaned beneath her, his face smashed in the valley of her breasts. “I-I can’t.”

She took him in as deep as his thick cock would go, and kissed his panting lips. “Then let me feel. I want to feel the real you…”

Hands tight around her body, Castiel kissed her back, licking at her lips until she swooned in his arms.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, “keep them closed.”

She did as he said, screwing her eyes closed tight while his wings unfurled. She felt the rush of wind, heard the sound as they grew to full size. He could see her struggle to keep her eyes shut, so he kissed her again, distracting her with his hot tongue.

Castiel bent his wings around them, encasing their bodies in the invisible feathers. She felt the tips caress her flesh, smelled the sea and the sky all around her. They were cool yet created a comforting warmth as they touched her, every graze sending blissful sensations through her body.

“My God,” she moaned, “Castiel… they’re… beautiful.”

He smiled and licked at her collarbone, thrusting upwards, fucking into her as she regained her barings.

One hand on his shoulder, the other wandered through the forest of feathers, gently stroking his wings as if touching the very essence of God.

Every brush of her fingers over his wings made his cock twitch and Castiel moaned without care, hiding his face in the crook of her neck as he fucked up into her dripping cunt.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” she cried, reaching back to caress the root of his wings, the source of it all.

Gritting his teeth, Castiel’s nails dug into her shoulders and hips, forcing her to work with him. He sent out a wisp of his Grace to fill her clit and Y/N screamed with orgasmic pleasure as she came hard and wet on his throbbing cock. One more jab of his hips and he came, shooting his load up into the depths of her.

It leaked down onto his slacks as she lifted up and collapsed into his arms.

“That-” Her head lolled against his shoulder and he held her close. “Amazing-”

Castiel kissed her cheek as she drifted into unconscious bliss, her body giving up after the intensity of it all. The long two weeks held captive by an insane deity, the realization of the Horrific and Divine, the orgasm he’d just thrust upon her; it had all caught up at once, and Y/N went limp against him.

He kept his wings out and around them as he carried her to his room.

It wasn’t truly his room, not really his bed as he never slept, but it was where he felt comfortable when he was relaxing. The pillows were soft and the blanket was always tucked in perfectly.

He lay Y/N down and untucked the blanket for the first time ever, gently draping it around her as she rolled onto her side.

Hand on her forehead, Castiel sent another faint wave of Grace through her, sending her into a deeper sleep.

“Rest well, Y/N…”

She smiled in her sleep, somehow whispering his name. “N’ght, Castiel.”

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