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spnhunter4life · 11 months ago

Text

Not So Bad

Summary: Bad information on a hunt leads to a tense situation that ends in confessed feelings.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

I sighed as I flipped through the pages of the dusty old book I’d picked up out of a mix of nerves and boredom. The Winchester boys and I were in New York of all places. I hated it here. The constant loud noise of the bustling city, the air that was so far from the fresh country air I’d grown used to at the bunker, and, worst of all, the tall buildings that blocked out the sky mixing with the thick crowds of people made me feel severely claustrophobic.

But there was a monster here that needed to be killed, and the Winchesters always went where they were needed. And wherever they went, I went. So here I was, sitting in the library while the brothers went off to kill the thing. It was some sort of demi god named Daemon.

I’d never been much of one for fighting. I preferred to be the designated researcher, helping out in a mental capacity instead of physical. Both brothers insisted I at least learn basic self defense and worked with me on occasion, wanting me to be able to defend myself if the worst were to happen, but they never pushed me to come face down monsters with them.

The book I was currently looking through was one of the three I’d been able to find in this library about Daemon. I’d already found the information I was looking for and reported it to the Winchesters. But now my options were to sit here and wait for the hunt to be over so the boys could come pick me up, or make my way back to the motel on my own, and I was perfectly comfortable where I was. Or at least, comfortable enough that it wasn’t worth braving the crowded streets.

I turned another page, skimming the words quickly, barely absorbing what I was reading. Somewhere in the back of my mind I made the distant realization that I was in a library and could go find a more interesting book to pass the time. I didn’t give the idea much thought, knowing that it would be difficult to lose myself in a book when my boys were in danger. I knew how long they’d been living this life and how capable they were, but that didn’t make it any less scary anytime they took off. I knew every time could be the last, and I didn’t take that for granted.

I was about to close the book and at least find something to occupy myself that wasn’t a detailed explanation of the very thing the boys were facing down, when the sentence I’d just read actually registered in my mind. With a sharp inhale, my eyes darted back to the beginning of the paragraph.

It is a common misconception that Daemon is susceptible to oak stakes dipped in lamb’s blood – a rumor no doubt started by the mischievous deity himself – which is actually quite harmless to him. What most do not know is that Daemon is not a demigod at all, but the offspring of a demon and a faerie. As such, his one and only weakness is a silver blade dipped in holy water.

The blood drained from my face. I’d given the boys the wrong information and now they were off to face an angry demigod – or faerie demon hybrid, apparently – with weapons that may as well have been toothpicks for all the use they would be.

How could I have been stupid enough to not double check the information? I should know better than that!

I didn’t have time to wonder if maybe this bit of information was the incorrect one. Something in my gut told me it was right, and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t risk letting them go to their deaths, thinking they had the upper hand. I pulled my phone out and immediately dialed Sam’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. Cursing quietly to myself, I tried Dean instead. Voicemail again.

Fear for my boys overrode everything else. They were all I had left in the world and I absolutely could not lose them. I couldn’t live without my sweet, steady Sam. He was an invaluable source of knowledge on all topics imaginable and he had a calm, comforting disposition that seemed to instantly ease everyone in his vicinity. His sense of humor may not have been as pronounced as Dean’s, but I appreciated it just the same and wondered what would happen if I never got to hear his laugh or see his smile again.

And Dean. I couldn’t even let myself think what all I would be losing if he was gone. To an outsider, our relationship looked perfectly polite and comfortable. And it was, I suppose – we always got along well and never had a bad word to say to each other – if not a little strained. Although, that may have been just on my end. He never did seem to feel the tension that I did. I couldn’t blame him for not noticing either. After all, I did everything I could to keep him from knowing just how much I cared for him. Just how much I loved him.

Without stopping to think about it, I quickly exited the library and rushed out into the crowded streets I so despised. I ran in the direction of Daemon’s lair – we had known its location since early in the investigation and had only been working on the details of how to kill him – roughly shoving through crowds of people when necessary.

I was severely winded by the time I reached the abandoned building that Daemon resided in. I was panting in short breaths that seemed to fill my lungs with fire. I didn’t have time to stop though. I spotted the Impala parked in the alley and fumbled a key out of my pocket. I threw the trunk open, grabbed a silver knife and poured a generous helping of holy water over it. I barely remembered to slam the trunk shut before rushing inside.

I slowed down once I was inside. The building was large and I had no idea where any of the current occupants might be. I was just peeking around an open door, knife held at the ready, when a huge crash followed by a yell of pain sounded off to my right. My heart stopped. That was Dean.

Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok. And Sam too. Let them both be ok, I pleaded to any god who would listen.

I crept as quickly and quietly towards the sound of distress as I could, sounds of a fight leading me there. Fear like I’d never felt before ran like ice through my veins, but kept me moving forward. I rounded a corner and felt my heart stop again before picking up a racing rhythm at what I saw. Sam was sprawled on the ground. He’s only unconscious, I told myself. The alternative was unacceptable. Across the room was Dean, pinned to a wall by Daemon, straining to break the hybrid’s grip and thrust his oak stake into its side. Daemon clearly had the upper hand and wrenched the stake away from him, throwing it behind him. I barely stopped myself from calling out Dean’s name.

“You think you can kill me? A puny man, kill a god?” Daemon spat, the rage clear in his voice.

I charged towards them, knife raised and ready. I was only a few steps away when Dean saw me over Daemon’s shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise before he could stop the involuntary reaction. I saw him immediately look away again, not wanting to give me away, but it was too late. Daemon had seen it. He whirled around to face me and knocked me aside without a thought. It was as easy as if he’d been swatting at an irritating fly. Dean yelled my name just as I collided with the wall. My breath, which I hadn’t even quite gotten back after my long sprint here, left me in a whoosh.

I watched in fascination and horror as Dean took advantage of the momentary distraction to rush at Daemon. He kicked his legs out from under him before climbing on top of him, pinning him to the ground. They struggled for a few seconds before Dean was able to snatch the oak stake from where it had been discarded on the ground.

“No, Dean! The knife!” I yelled to him. I had dropped it at some point between Daemon’s blow and hitting the wall. Dean didn’t question me, didn’t hesitate before dropping the useless weapon and searching for the knife. But it was out of his reach and it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold Daemon down much longer. I started to struggle to my feet to grab it for him, but before I was able to, a large body ran into my line of sight, blocking my view of Dean, and stooping to pick up the knife.

I tensed, terrified that there was some unknown second thing to deal with now, but soon realized it was only Sam. He picked up the knife and turned to his brother. Without speaking a word to each other, Dean rolled out of the way just as Sam plunged the knife down into the heart of the monster.

Dean was red faced and breathing hard – and who could blame him after wrestling with a being with supernatural strength – but otherwise seemed alright, so I turned my attention to Sam who was closer and who I worried could have any number of injuries after being knocked unconscious.

“Sam, are you-”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean demanded. Stunned at the hardness of his voice, I turned to look at him and realized that what I’d mistaken for exertion was actually anger. He was livid. I’d never seen him so angry, at least not with me. Why was he angry? This completely unexpected reaction left me feeling small and confused.

“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? I was just trying-”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He yelled. He took a step in my direction and a grimace crossed his face as his leg seemed to struggle slightly under his weight. He grunted, the only sound he would let escape. I remembered his yell, the noise that had guided me in this direction to begin with. He was hurt. Dean, who sat stoically with teeth gritted, never letting more than a grunt escape while Sam dug bullets out of him or sewed up horrible gashes, had cried out in pain. That had scared me more than anything else tonight, the idea of how badly he must be hurt to not be able to hide it.

“Dean,” Sam started in a warning tone. He might have been about to defend me or to tell Dean to cool his temper so we could talk calmly, but I would never know. Anger flared up in me, completely overriding the confusion and uncertainty Dean’s words had caused.

“Well you nearly were killed! So I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” I shouted back. I wasn’t actually angry, I knew, just reliving the terror of the last half hour mixed with the relief of seeing them both ok and the worry at their injuries. In short, I was overwhelmed and Dean yelling at me had frayed my already shot nerves.

“We would have been fine.” Dean deflected.

“No you wouldn’t have! When I got here Sam was on the ground, dead for all I knew, and you were hardly about to win in a battle of strength. And even if you had, your weapon was useless. You would have died!”

“You’re the one who decided you didn’t want to fight! And that’s fine, you know we’re ok with that. But you can’t just not train and then run into a fight with no idea what you’re doing!”

“Guys, maybe we should-” Sam tried again.

“No!” I yelled. I saw a look of surprised hurt in his eyes. I felt bad for snapping at him when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was too fired up to backtrack now. “If Dean hasn’t had enough of a fight tonight, then let’s fight! I may not be trained in hand to hand and weapons the way you are, but I assure you, I can yell at you all night long.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and I saw the muscle jump in his jaw.

“Sam, can you give us a minute?” He asked in a forced calm tone.

Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between the two of us before agreeing. “Alright. But you’ve got ten minutes before I’m coming back in after you to make sure you’re not strangling each other,” he warned before leaving the room.

We glared at each other for a minute, neither of us speaking. After what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a moment, Dean started talking again in that tone that was an attempt at being calm, but I could clearly hear the tenseness and anger underneath.

“You can’t just-”

“You said that already,” I interrupted immediately. His jaw ticked again, and I knew shouting at him when he was trying to deescalate the situation was not appreciated. He tried again in that same infuriating tone, a little more strained this time.

“Sam and I hardly need you jumping in to protect us. We know what we’re doing.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” He yelled back, patience worn thin.

“It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not because you couldn’t have won! I was doing some more reading after you guys left and I realized I gave you the wrong weapon.”

“Then you call us! You don’t come running in after us!”

“I did call you! Neither of you picked up! I couldn’t just sit there and wait for you to die!”

“Of course you could have! Don’t you think we’d rather take our chances with bad weapons than to have you in the line of fire?”

“What would you have done Dean?” I screamed at him. “If it were you sitting around knowing that I was going after a monster with a weapon that wouldn’t kill it? What would you have done?” I felt confident this would be the end of it. After all, there was no doubt in my mind what he would have done, and he couldn’t possibly deny it.

“That’s not the same thing,” he said. He was still angry, but he said this in a quieter voice, the kind of quiet that meant I’d truly struck a nerve.

“Why?” I asked, ready to swoop in with the metaphorical killing blow and win the argument. “Because I can’t fight, so of course I’d need you to come save me?”

“No.”

“Hypothetically saying I was as well trained as you then. Or that it was Sam. The point still stands. You would have done exactly what I did. You wouldn’t just sit back and let us die, so why would I?”

“I told you, that’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “How do you think we would feel if something happened to you? What if we couldn’t protect you and you got hurt?”

“How do you think I felt, Dean?” I stomped over to him, getting right in his face, letting him see how much I meant what I was saying. “I didn’t know if you would be alive or not when I got here.” I stopped for a breath, the intensity of the emotions I’d felt in that moment hitting me once again. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what it would feel like. I know exactly what it feels like.”

“It’s not the same,” he said again, stubbornly.

“How is it not the same? If anything, it’s worse for me. You and Sam at least have each other. If I lose you guys, I have no one. I will not lose you. Do you understand me? If that means putting my own life on the line, I’m ok with that.”

“I’m not!”

“Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it, because it’s my life, not yours!”

“You’re not understanding me! If you would just let me explain-”

But apparently I wouldn’t. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I just needed him to understand what I was saying. So I cut him off in the middle of his request that I not do so.

“No, I told you that I understand perfectly. It’s you who isn’t understanding! I’ve never been more scared in my whole life than I was when I heard you yelling in pain.” In the back of my mind, I registered that Dean’s expression had turned from anger to determination. But my brain didn’t seem to fully process this fact, not that I would have known what to do with that information even if I had. My emotions were driving me now, and there was no stopping the words pouring from my mouth.

“I thought that whatever happened, it must be really bad. And maybe I was too late to save you. And it’s my own stupid fault you needed saving in the first place. How could I-”

This time, Dean cut me off. It was only fair, after all I’d done the same to him. This was a much nicer, much more pleasant, much more unexpected way of interrupting though. He leaned down, crashing his lips against mine. As my body seemed to be running on instinct and adrenaline right now, I responded immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck, meeting his demanding kiss with enthusiasm.

I ran one of my hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between my fingers. My other hand ran down over his shoulder, to his bicep, then over to his chest, loving the strength I could feel in all those hard earned muscles. His hands were wandering too, in my hair one second, traveling over my back the next, and then on my waist.

My brain, which seemed to have shut down for the past few moments – minutes? – decided to start working again, practically screaming at me that this was Dean I was kissing. Dean, apparently experiencing the same returning brain function as me, pulled away. He took a careful step back, creating some space between us. That was probably good. I couldn’t think with him so close. Not after that. His cheeks were flushed red for a whole new reason now and his hair was sticking up in an annoyingly attractive way. I could see by the surprise in his eyes that he hadn’t been planning on the kiss being that intense.

“It’s not the same,” he repeated, his voice as calm as if we were having a normal conversation on any old day. As if we hadn’t been arguing minutes before. As if he hadn’t just given me the most mind numbing, spine tingling kiss of my life. “Because I love you. And I know that that probably wasn’t the best way to go about telling you, but I need you to understand what it would mean to me to lose you. If you lost me, you’d lose a friend. It would suck, but you would move on. But you’re more than that to me, and I don’t know how I could survive losing you.”

“Have you not paid attention to a thing I said?” I asked him, taking a step forward to eliminate the space he’d put between us. “I told you, if I lost you and Sam I would have nothing.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really true. You could make more friends easily enough.”

“But you’re not just my friends. Sam is my best friend, true, but I love him like he’s my brother. Losing him would hurt me just as bad as losing an actual brother. And you… I couldn’t move on from you any easier than you could move on from me. I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Dean winced. “Like a brother. I know.”

“Not like a brother,” I said, wrinkling my nose a little. “Do you really think I would kiss you like that, or at all for that matter, if that’s how I thought of you?”

“I would hope not,” he agreed.

“So, basically, you’ve been yelling at me this whole time about not understanding you when, in reality, I understand perfectly, just like I said from the beginning.” I couldn’t help but gloat a little at being right.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched slightly in a repressed smile.

“You know, I think you owe me for scaring me nearly to death earlier,” he said happily.

“I owe you?”

“Yes. When you came running in here I swear my heart stopped. And then I had to watch you get thrown across the room…” He winced at the memory and I could tell how upset it made him, but he quickly shook it off and kept up his cheerful tone. “I think you took at least three years off my life. Lucky for you I’ll take payment in kisses. One for every year less I’ll live thanks to you.”

Part of me wanted to argue, but the other part was too giddy to even care.

“Alright,” I agreed easily. I stretched up onto my tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. I wanted to continue the intense kiss from earlier, but there would be time for that later. This seemed like the appropriate response to his gentle, teasing tone. “There’s one.”

I kissed him again, and then once more, feeling like I could burst with joy the whole time.

“There,” I said after the third kiss. “Does that make us even?”

“For now,” he smiled. “I have a feeling I’ll be finding lots of excuses for more in the future.”

“How’s this for an excuse? I think you took at least five years off my life. I’ll be needing some compensation here as well.”

He grinned. “And I fully intend to pay up. Once we’re home though. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

I was a little disappointed to have to be done kissing him. But I knew he was right. We should get out of here. I knew he was in pain, and I still didn’t know how Sam was doing. Besides, it was only a temporary stop. Once we were home I would have as much time with him as I wanted.

Home. Just the mention of it made me long for it even more. But even though I couldn’t wait to be back, even though I’d spent the whole time here waiting for the moment we could leave, the past few minutes with Dean had made the whole thing worth it.

Maybe New York wasn’t so bad after all.

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

#not so bad #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #confessed feelings #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x original character

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adanmwere · 6 months ago

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spn au thing! I took this from my notes app

Less or more I'm unsure if I can cw this with anything? I don't think anything in it is triggering and if it is I am terribly sorry

destiel as hell and it kind it starts to read like a fanfic.

A spn au but instead of the "world ending" and them saving the day. it ends. dean accepts Micheals offer from day one. Unlike Sam who doesn't accept Lucifer's offer and never does. this creates tension and micheal gets impatient, the war does happen in fact its hell. Armageddon happens, cas is the only hope for sam and bobby. He is powerless though until..He comfirms something he is in fact god. this causes.. Massive tension because why was he doing this? He had a lot to explain but sam nor bobby wasn't gonna listen to a word he said. if he was god why couldn't he stop it? Wasn't god their father? What the fuck (hes a demi god but he is GOD. just a different one not THE THE god.) he is a human now hes useless as he could ever fucking be. he goes into a depression and still has hope that maybe dean is alive or at least his soul. hes unsure though for many reasons snd who wouldn't be? He was partially used as micheals shield. he'd be lucky if he had made it out with all of his fingers and toes. cas hunts everywhere, he cant teleport so this looking turns into a hunt for years. too many to count he experiences the horrors of humanity and realises how truly fucked this planet was. it disgusted him but he was once again powerless. He was also loosing hope because it was months and years he had been looking for dean for hope that maybe he was alive. just when he was about to give up, he finds himself in a bar a small one and notices a man.. Who seems familiar this was only added on to when the name "dean" was called. It echoed through his ears and rang in his head like a bell. there he was, alive and in the flesh; dean fucking Winchester. He had evidently aged a bit more he was before havibg almost a head of grey hairs but he wasnt that old, he was surely older then castiel had come to remember but he was wearing a pair of sunglasses. He didn't seem to remember cas and castiel was wrecked because he had come so far just to be brought back to square fucking one. he was basically a stranger to dean now... dean took off his sunglasses and he was...blind ? God castiel felt sorry for him.

dean was blind. It was evident the whiteness covering his irises, castiel couldnt help but stare and he knew he was getting weird looks they probably thought he was some weirdo. dean would drink down his beer and speak up, asking the man (castiel) if he was having fun looking at him and if he had never seen a blind man. castiel felt embarrassed he apologized, dean shrugged it off not taking offense to it. But cas...he kind of just gave up. Because what was he to do? he left the bar, he felt emptier then usual maybe it was because he lost two of his best friends. one to His ignorance and the other to just being powerless because he nearly killed himself to help the Winchesters. he shouldve been pissed, mad even. Why wasn't he? why wasn't he mad at them? for making him suffer. it had to be a deeper reason to why, right? He leaned against the wall of the alley way as a figure caught his eye and deans voice once again echoed through his ears. Like fine wine made his ears tingle at the rasp in his voice. he called out castiels name. cas was unsure if he was referring to him. someone else must've had that name too, right? Cas noticed deans slight limp and the... cane dean had, god maybe dean was older then he thought. cas looked around nervously not talking because well he was blind. not to be mean or anything... "castiel novak" 'dean' called out. that wasn't even castiels last fucking name. It was his vessels last name. Jimmy novak, poor guy...But that wasn't important, taking a closer look at "dean" he had a uhhh...fake leg?..what were those things called...God that, battle must've taken a tool on him. But how was he even breathing? he was supposed to be dead, that was the plan that was the fucking mission not to kill dean but kill Lucifer and Sam was meant to be his vessel but Adam took that role soon after they figured out that Adam was Winchester blood he was the closest thing to Sam. Micheal was an angel he obviously had to have a vessel. god forbid. castiel began to feel a migraine form, he rubbed his temple. he would never get used to being a human. he missed being who he was. being able to help, defend. do something, He could barely hold a gun properly. what use was he? "stop thinking that way, hun" dean said. the words made his throat sore cas turned almost red. maybe it was because dean was blind. hopefully dean didn't.. mean to talk to castiel like that, right? fuck. (This turning into a fanfic lol HELP.) cas shook his head and groaned out the pain he was feeling. His head was throbbing like it had a heart beat of its own. "There's something, they..wanted me to give..or back yeah. give back" dean uddered as he hastily walked over to cas. pressing his pointer finger and middle finger against castiels temble. rubbing and sliding them down with a slight touch to it a beam of white light emerged the alley way he had been standing in. it gave the night a light. it was like a beam. the same ring that dean heard when castiel first tried to communicate rang through castiels ears... his own voice

#supernatural #spn #spn au #supernatural au #castiel supernatural #destiel #deancas #cas and dean #dean and cas #cas x dean #dean x castiel #writing #i cant write aughhoo #i went a little crazy with ghis srry

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

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something i think about sometimes is about sam being demisexual... (probably because i identify with him a lot, and i am, so lol)

i know it might not make much sense, but in my head he's not as open to having sexual relations with someone he doesn't know as well, as his brother is, you know?

maybe he even hooks up with a random person at a bar, after a few beers, but before that he always has some conversation about life with that person, share some common interest and talk about that too, until something actually happens ;)

YEAHHHH DEMI SAM WINCHESTER IS MY EVERYTHING !!!! i one million percent agree like i never talk about it which i should but i totally have always thought of sam as demi!!! even if he does have one night stands and the lights during the show, he really always seemed more comfortable after he knows someone at least a tiny bit, and for an entire relationship he'd definitely want to know some one pretty well!! i'm demi too idk it just feels similar! <33

so yeah, i absolutely couldn't agree more!! i think it makes complete sense! there feels like plenty of "evidence" in the show at least to me! like dean mentioning getting him a lap dance for his birthday and sam not enjoying it too much and instead telling her to go to nursing school or some shit LMAOOO and even when he does have a one night stand there's an episode where he offers her is number, but she doesn't take it, like idk i just love him and the way he deals with that kind of thing because again i agree, it seems similar to how i feel as a demi person as well!!

so so glad you brought this up hehe <333

#. >> asks !#. >> mooties !#. >> sammy !#. >> sage !

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queen-of-deans-booty · 1 year ago

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Hidden Family

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: none

Request by anon: Hey can i request a hcs where the reader is Dean or Sam girlfriend that never meet her dad and find out that she is God(Chuck) daughter, little sister to the Angels (that always are protected over her)?

Summary: You went through life never knowing your dad or who he was until you meet Sam and Dean, and they make you see that you have more than family behind you.

Square Filled: free space (2023) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

The brothers have always been alone all their life until they got put on a case where people were dying with their throats bitten out

They questioned as many locals as they could, eventually getting to you

It’s cliche to say, but you and Sam clicked immediately. You were an older student at the local college just trying to expand your knowledge, so when two men come in asking about the mysterious deaths around town, you were immediately hooked

Sam was tall, smart, handsome, muscular, intelligent, and funny. He was everything you’d been searching for in a man since you graduated high school

After they left, curiosity got the better of you and you researched everything you could on this case. It took you to a world you never knew existed

Once you knew about it, you couldn’t go back to your normal life

Sam didn’t want a civilian in the middle of their hunt, but if you were gonna hunt, then may as well learn from the best

As they say, the rest is history

Sam is the best thing that could ever happen to you, and you will protect him with everything you’ve got even if that’s with your life

One of the reasons why you’re so protective over him and Dean is that you never had a protective figure in your life. You never knew your dad and your mom died pretty early on in life

When you were put into a foster home, you were the protector of the smaller children. Being with Sam isn’t any different

The longer you go without knowing your dad, the more you want to know him

Sam offered to find him for you, but who he found wasn’t what anyone was expecting

With the help of Sam and Dean, you find out your dad is none other than Chuck himself--God

That means you’re a demi-goddess and the angels are your siblings. Your mother must not have told you any of this because she kept this side of you a secret for as long as she lived

There is a reason why you’ve always been so protective over those younger than you and the ones you love--you have angel grace inside you that has been dormant for your whole life

You’re a natural protector

Castiel is the first angel to find out you’re his much younger sibling and you two click instantly. The more angels knew about you, the more they became protective over you

It got to the point where you couldn’t go out with Castiel asking where you were going or if he can come along

It sucks trying to plan dates with Sam because of how Castiel worries about you but you know he’s only doing this out of love

Besides, you know if you and Sam are in any danger, you can pray to any angel and they’d come down with the Heavens on their side

You went from having no family to Sam and Dean as a family to a whole army of angels behind you

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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youhaveaguineapigwhere · 1 year ago

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He Can't Get This

Chapter 1

♡Set in Supernatural S14 Ep14. I recommend rewatching the ep or the crime scene bit ;)♡

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"That baby cop, he liked you."

Dean Winchester slammed the door of the impala closed and reached to start her, his jaw tense and lips slightly drawn as he turned the key.

Castiel tilted his head towards the hunter from his passenger seat, a little lost. "I'm sorry, what?" He shifted a little, adjusting his coat as Dean put the car in reverse, voice blunt but unassuming.

They'd just figured out that the Gorgon couldn't sense Castiel and Jack with his eyeball premonitions, for lack of a better description (most likely because they weren't human) So Cas and Jack would have to lead the attack when they tracked down the gorgon again. Whatever Dean had said made no sense to the angel.

Cas' voice was that consistent gruff lull and his hair was stuck up at a little part in the back. Dean practiced restraint for the instinct to reach out and smooth it.

"Mr. Twunk over there," He retorted, throwing a half hazard gesture towards the crime scene. Cas squinted through the windshield and saw a vaguely familiar blond head of hair popping out of a patrol car. The young officer they had spoken to earlier.

"Probably fresh out of academy too." Dean added, his tone short and irritated as he intrigued Cas' full attention, who furrowed his brows and leaned up in his seat.

"Oh, come on," Dean shot Cas a look, "he totally creamed his pants when you pulled the whole 'deep commanding voice thing', he went stiff as a board, don't tell me you didn't notice." He let a soft huff out of the corner of his mouth, his pink lips upturned in a small smirk, though still betrayed by his wound-tight words as he glanced from the road to Castiel.

"I was more focused on the demi god and his victims, Dean." Castiel explained slowly.

"Yeah, sure, not the young guy you got all hot and bothered."

Cas squinted at Dean suspiciously, "Is this merely about your dislike for police officers, Dean? Or is it something else?" He questioned.

Dean forced out a laugh, "It's not anything Cas, just an observation."

"That seems... untrue."

"Yeah." Dean chided, "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Castiel's patience had run thin. "Dean..." he tested firmly.

A blush crept up behind Dean's collar and he gripped onto baby's steering wheel, adjusting his seating, "I just didn't like the way he looked at you, okay, sue me." He threw his hands up for a breif moment before returning them to the sleek black wheel.

Cas titled his head, the line of his jaw catching a fragment of the afternoon sun as they passed by storefronts with big glass windows. "How did he look at me?"

"Like he wanted you to bend him over and fuck him into next week."

"Like how you look at me."

Cas' voice was wet gravel.

Dean halted on the brakes, jolting them forward, scarlet blush deepening, "What, no! You.. you know that's not- and before you say a word about what we did that one time in lebanon that was different okay! I don't gawk at you all the time Cas."

"Different how?" Cas challenged.

The trafic light turned green and a car behind them honked impatiently, "Okay, geez," Dean muttered as they started moving. "Because... I was super horny and hadn't seen you in what, four months?" he continued, "And you're my best friend dude and you were looking particularly moody that day and yeah, maybe I'm just jealous and a little bitch." He sighed, defeated.

Cas let out a low chuckle.

"Oh shut up you smug fuck," Dean reached out and shoved a hand over Castiels face, his own now a particular shade of pink.

Cas cleared his throat and picked up a level tone as Dean's hand fell away, "You know you can always ask to..."

"Oh yeah, I know," Dean interjected, "Just check in between hunts and saving the world and having Micheal locked up in my head and raising our kid to be like 'oh Cas,' I miss the feel of my skin against yours and how you make me act like a dumb teenager and that night in the cowboy hotel was the best of my life and I can't get you off my mind every time you leave. I got Sammy breathing down my neck constantly cause he knows and just wants to rub it in my face but I won't say anything because I refuse to talk about feelings with a sasquatch or like you know ever and I-." Dean's words started out sarcastic and ended with a desperate pout and Cas gave him a kind look, reaching to rest his hand gingerly on Dean’s thigh as the hunter let out a heavy exhale.

Cas knew life was never easy, for any of them, but Dean was the most important thing to him, no matter how closed off or stubborn he could be.

"So, you got jealous when a man looked at me with sexual intentions?"

"Cas, you're making me sound like a little bitch again." Dean huffed, the peachy blush crowding against his freckles a complete contrast with his deep manly tone and set, sloping jawline.

"My apologies, Dean." Cas stated, his eyes soft, "I wanted to know what was going on, and that only works when you tell me."

"I know, I know." Dean exhaled, "You know I'm not good at this stuff Cas, but I have missed you.. All this running around.. 'drives me crazy sometimes." Dean nodded his head down and looked up at the road through his eyelashes.

Cas silently noticed how after all these years Dean still seemed to physically shrink in on himself a little, anytime he showed vulnerability. Or rather, he wondered with disdain, who exactly had taught him this trait. The only time he seemed to release himself from those instincts is when he let Castiel have him in bed. And oh, how beautiful Dean was then. Bare and trembling under his hands. Never trying to be smaller.

"I've missed you too, Dean." He comforted, knowing no words could come to match how he felt being so often pulled from the man. He looked out the passenger window, watching the landscape slide by, "You know-" he thought aloud, an idea still churning in his mind, "Rowena still needs time to prepare the tracking spell.." He lowered his voice and gave Dean's thigh a gentle squeeze.

Dean swallowed and tensed his hands around the steering wheel, seeming much more determined to get to where they were going.

#destiel fanfic #destiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #mixed pov #jealous dean winchester #jack kline #sam winchester #gorgon #rowena macleod #my fic #leo writes #chapter 1 #multiple chapters #spn #superntural #castiel #dean winchester #drabble

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profoundbondfanfic · 2 years ago

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The first day of sharing our favorite aro/ace/demi fics is here! Fics we haven't reviewed yet link back to the story on ao3, while the others link back to our reviews. Enjoy reading!

Part 1

How to Ignore Your Soulmark and Be Happy by broken_ankle [Teen, 4K, Aro!Dean, Aro&Ace!Cas]

Dean and Cas are soulmates. They know, and they know that the other knows, and they've never talked about it. That doesn't stop them from building a life together.

He’s a Little Bit Country by JessJesstheBest [Teen, 8,5K, Ace!Cas]

"Tell me what we’re doing here today, Clarence.” Castiel shifted on his feet, moodily, but answered her in a grumble. “We’re putting on a concert benefit for Planned Parenthood.” “Right! And why is that?” “Because this country is run by a monster who is trying to take away the reproductive rights of women and we need to raise money to continue to fund our program which helps women have agency in their own bodies." Or the one where Castiel, as part of planned parenthood, puts on a joint punk and country benefit concert where he meets Dean Winchester, the handsome country enthusiast who is also an asshole.

Let's Stay Together by Castielslostwings [Explicit, 12,5K, demi!Cas]

Touch-starved COVID nurses Dean and Cas try to solve that mutual problem by platonically sleeping together, but their relationship is affected in more ways than they bargained for.

Staccato by mnwood [General, 6K, Aro!Dean]

It happens gradually. There is no cliff to jump off of or wall to hit or any other analogy of suddenness that Castiel expected. Instead, there are increased touches. Longer looks. A brush of lips on knuckles, shoulders, cheeks, lips. Quiet confessions turn into assertions. It happens gradually.

Inside Jokes by JessJesstheBest [Teen, 5,9K, Ace!Cas]

“Come here,” Dean said, before he could talk himself out of it. Before he could convince himself Cas wouldn’t want to. “Quarantine with me.” Cas’s breath hitched. “What?” Or after only a couple dates, Dean and Cas decide to quarantine together. Because gays be like

When the Magnolias Bloom by Flurry_X [Explicit, 129K, Demi!Cas]

It's been ten years since the Apocalypse. Ten years without talking, without knowing one another. Castiel has a company to handle and a wedding to plan, Dean has a broken marriage and a decision to make. They have separate lives, lovers and families of their own, they aren't supposed to meet again, to mess it all up. And yet they do, when they least expect it, and maybe when they most need it. A story about second chances, about hope and resilience, and a love that feels both doomed and inevitable.

#destiel #group rec #ace week #ace!dean #ace!castiel

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samanddean76 · 8 months ago

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by SamandDean76

Psst! Want some Sabriel? Look no further!

Take Back Something Worth Remembering | Explicit | 18.5K words (Season 4 AU)

Gabriel was enjoying his leisure time with all the porn stars he could handle, in order to distract him from the crush he had developed on Sam Winchester, when a frantic prayer from an old friend interrupted everything. Now Gabriel finds himself working side by side with the amazing mortal who is trying to save his dead brother, while Gabriel tries to save the wayward angel that was sent in to rescue Dean. With the help of an artifact that he stole from heaven long ago, Gabriel casts a spell that will leave hell in ruins, the inhabitants of heaven trembling in fear, and Sam with a new appreciation for the archangel that is about to make all of his wildest dreams come true. All served up with an extra heaping portion of well-deserved revenge.

Stacking The Deck | Explicit | 13.3k words (Mob AU)

Gabriel's life was turned upside down when the shelter he and his brother Castiel were staying at was raided by thugs looking for Omegas to sell. But he was rescued by the mob boss's youngest son, Sam. Feeling a powerful connection to the young Alpha, Gabriel surrenders himself and embraces a life unlike any he's ever known.

But Gabriel can't let go of the dream of one day reuniting his fractured family and he is shocked to find that Sam is more than willing to help him reunite with his long-lost brother.

They hold their collective breaths as they bet everything they hold dear and discover there's more than one way to beat the odds.

A Leap Of Faith | Explicit | 5.8K words (Canon-Adjacent)

After having given up all hope, Gabriel finds himself miraculously rescued from Asmodeus' vile clutches. But he is far from healthy and whole, and he can barely care for himself. Gabriel knows that he needs the help of another, but he finds the words almost too painful to speak.

Sam knows some of what Gabriel endured at the hands of a monster. And he also knows that he could never permit another to linger in darkness when there is something that he could do about it. He agrees to Gabriel's reluctant request, and then proceeds to show the archangel that anything is possible, if you only have a little faith.

The Viking And The Hermit God | Mature | 15.3K words (Viking AU)

The modern-day author Sam Winchester is giving an in-depth presentation about his latest book to a group of college students. The audience could never even begin to suspect the truth behind the knowledge that he possesses. How he was personally given a bad map by Loki, the Trickster demi-god, that led to Loki's great-grandfather, Buri. But what Sam discovered was that Buri wasn't what he appeared to be. That he was the Archangel Gabriel and that he had created an entire pantheon of demi-gods in his spare time, as he whiled away the countless millennia, while he hid from his real family. The question now was, would Gabriel risk it all to save the love of his eternal life?

Letting Fate Decide | Mature | 14.6K words (A/B/O AU) | Half Sabriel & Half Destiel

Castiel is a new Omega in the big city. He meets the Alpha for him in the form of a fry-cook named Dean Winchester. But a military commander pulls Dean in for a mission and as Castiel waits he is taken by Lucifer to be added to one of his many Omega brothels. There he meets an Omega named Gabriel who helps him to survive. Little does he know that Gabriel is longing to be reunited with his one true Alpha, Sam Winchester.

Do You Take This Archangel | Explicit | 1.8K words | Established Relationship

Sam and Gabriel have finally gotten hitched. Now Sam just has to keep his new husband happy on their wedding night. Gabriel has ideas on just how Sam can accomplish such a task...

To Love, Honor, & Cherish | Explicit | 3.7K words | (A/B/O AU) | Sabriel but also Sam/Gabriel/Castiel

Alpha Sam Winchester is a top Omega Retrieval Specialist. He is handed the file on a bonded pair of runaway Omega's. But when he finally tracks down Gabriel and Castiel, the information in the file and the reality of the situation are wildly different. Now Sam has to figure out if he can rescue the two Omega's before it's too late.

His Perfectly Good Boy | Explicit | 1.4K words | Established Relationship

Gabriel loves it when Sam takes care of his wings. He also enjoys praising Sam for all of his many efforts. Sam loves it when Gabriel repays the favor, and lets him know what a good boy he has been.

One Night Angel | Explicit | 931 words

Gabriel is looking for a little action. Enter Sam Winchester. Gabriel's night is looking up!

What Gabriel wanted, um no. What Gabriel needed, no, not quite. What Gabriel fucking REQUIRED, was a good solid dicking every now and then.

How To Accidentally Create Soulmates | General | 2K words (Just Fun AU)

Gabriel was given a brand-new and very important responsibility by Chuck. To oversee the soul nurseries in heaven. Well, Gabriel delegated this boring task to Castiel.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

His Heart To Keep | Explicit | 4K words (A/B/O AU)

Sam found himself a newly transformed Omega, who was up for sale to any Alpha willing to pay the price to have him. As he watched the little Alpha negotiate his permanent sale, he had to wonder? Had his life just gotten better?

Gabriel couldn't believe what had happened to the once proud Alpha that was presented to him for sale as a freshly turned Omega. But he swore, that he would fix all the wrongs that had been committed against this amazing man.

Click Click Pose | Mature | 6.1K words (Human AU) | Cowritten with @masoena

Gabriel was trying to make a name for himself that didn't include his prolific history as a top-rated porn star. He'd been able to break into a successful television show, Dr. Sexy M.D. But his life was forever changed when he walked onto the set for his latest photoshoot and met the man of his dreams.

Sam watched the transformation from a kind, courteous, and unassuming actor into a full-fledged sex god. But he could see through the cracks to the shy man that was carefully hidden underneath the bravado. The only question was, would he be able to convince Gabriel to take a chance and be the man he was always destined to be?

And so much more is on the way!

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xdiviinity · 3 months ago

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𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ announcing the arrival of JOSHWA of house MORAQOS, the PRINCE-ADMIRAL of MYR . whispers among the court name them to be both PRACTICAL and STUBBORN in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in writing . if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of fragrent summer mornings , soft breeze coming off the coast , a silver tongue devil . the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with THE EMPEROR OF ESSOS / HOUSE MORAQOS .

# 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐸𝐺𝐼𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺 ...

BASIC.

official name: joshwa moraqos. nicknames: mor . noble title: prince admiral of myr . date of birth: september 12th. age: 36. birthplace: essos. home: myr. nationality: myrish. gender: demi man. pronouns: he / him. orientation: pansexual. languages: valyrian , braavosi , common tongue, Lorathi , Pentoshi, . accent: myrish.

PHYSICAL .

faceclaim: mahesh jadu . ethnicity: valyarian . hair: black. eyes: brown . height: 6'0. build: muscular, athletic, trim . scent: sea air, incents of lavender, saffron and frankincense . dominant hand: right. allergies: essos house of myr, sunglass. scars: a few battle scars on his torso and a long scar on his right thigh. distinguishing features: chiseled features, with eyes that smolder like embers in the dark, a jawline sharp enough to carve desire, and lips that whisper secrets even when still, carry a magnetic allure that pulls you in with a dangerous promise. clothing style: vibrant colors of oranges and red are often worm, joshwa tends to go for deeper reds, greens and browns with a pop orange colors .

PERSONALITY .

label: the silver tongue one mbti: enfj. enneagram: the achiever. element: fire. star sign: virgo. temperament: phlegmatic. character inspirations: odesyeus , geralt of rivia , alyn of hull , bronn , frank underwood , dean winchester , finnick odair , achilles . deadly sin: wrath , gluttony , lust. heavenly virtue: diligence . godly parent: odyesseus .

DRIVES.

hobbies: sailing, writing poem & sonnets . religion: lord of light. alliance: house moraqos , king of essos. personal goals: forging new alliances in the hope of growing their coffers and regaining the power and prestige to his house that was lost thanks to his father late actions . would they choose family or power? power is power one can not protect their family or what is theres without it.

FAMILIAL TIES.

parent one: grand prince daario moraqo. relationship: father. parent two: grand princess taena moraqos nee fregar. relationship: mother. spouse: tbd. relationship: tba. sibling: liege anika moraqos. relationship: sister.

# 𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸𝐼𝑁𝐺 …

golden cage and gilded mirrors joshwa maraqos was born into a world resplendent with opulence, his arrival heralded by waves of celebration that echoed through the grand halls of his highborn family. as the firstborn grand prince and princess' child, he came into existence as effortlessly as the tide meets the shore, and with him, a cascade of festivities that enveloped his house and their allies in unending splendor. he was the epitome of a silver spoon, a figure who bathed in the wealth and privilege that life so generously afforded him. in the bloom of his youth, joshwa reveled in every excess, indulging in the luxurious pleasures that only a life of affluence could provide. his days were spent in lavish overindulgence, where tales of the young prince’s voracious appetite for sweetbreads and pastries became legend. when not engrossed in feasting, he would be found at the port, enthralled by the grandeur of his father’s fleet, observing with wide-eyed wonder as the ships sailed under his father’s command. the vast expanse of the sea was his greatest joy, offering him a glimpse of a world beyond the gilded cage that encased him..

shifting tides brings new woes as the years passed and joshwa matured, the playful indulgences of his youth gradually gave way to a more somber responsibility. his quick wit and sharp tongue served him well, endearing him to the high lords of myr and their captivating offspring. with a mind as agile as it was perceptive, he mastered complex matters with astonishing ease, absorbing texts in a single read and grasping their intricacies with remarkable speed. yet, the transition from carefree youth to serious leader was not without its trials. he began to shed the vestiges of his former self, trading youthful hedonism for the gravitas befitting his role. under the tutelage of those he once considered his inferiors, joshwa’s diligence became his greatest ally. as he rose through the ranks to become the esteemed admiral of the myrish fleet, his transformation was complete. his men, loyal and steadfast, would follow him into the fray with unwavering resolve. yet, the acquisition of power is a treacherous endeavor; unseen serpents slither close, ready to seize what they can. his father's neglect in this regard had allowed these hidden foes to infiltrate, draining the coffers and diminishing the royal fortunes. now, with the family’s future precariously balanced, the weight of their destiny rests squarely on joshwa’s capable shoulders.

westeros and onwards in the realm of westeros, where alliances and fortunes intertwine with the threads of destiny, joshwa saw an opportunity to carve out a new chapter for his house. the grand gathering in the land of the iron throne presented a chance to forge alliances that could reshape their fortunes. in this land of war, wealth, and opportunity, he sought to strengthen his house’s position, hoping to secure their future with deals and partnerships that would fortify their standing. amidst the chaos and opportunity, joshwa yearned to once again embrace the open waters that called to him, a sanctuary where his spirit could soar free. his ambition was to ensure that his house would sail the seas of time unburdened by dependence on others, standing resilient on its own merits.

adventures in the westerosi court as joshwa set his sights on king’s landing, the uncertainties of the westerosi court awaits him, a realm of intrigue and shifting allegiances. his adventurous spirit, undeterred by the perils of the court, remained a beacon of hope. his silver tongue, once a tool for escaping scrapes, now served to forge essential connections and navigate the treacherous waters of political machinations. in the high-stakes game of thrones, choosing allies was as crucial as deciding on trade and strategy. the future of his house hung in delicate balance, and only time would reveal whether joshwa could secure the relationships and alliances needed to elevate their house to new heights, transcending the gilded cage of their past and embracing a future of unparalleled glory.

# 𝑆𝐸𝐸𝐾𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝐹 𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐷𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝑆𝑂𝑈𝐿𝑆. . .

all my friends are heathens these companions, drawn from the fringes of society and the underbelly of the grand courts, share a camaraderie with joshwa that is rooted in their shared experiences of excess and rebellion. they are the ones who understand the true cost of privilege and the allure of forbidden pleasures. their bond is forged in the fires of their mutual defiance against the constraints of their gilded lives. these friends are as much a part of joshwa’s world as the silken robes and lavish feasts, providing him with a unique perspective on the pleasures and perils of highborn life.

fine frenemies within the sprawling tapestry of his courtly existence, joshwa maraqos harbors a group of frenemies—individuals whose antagonistic relationship with him is marked by a thin veneer of civility. these rivals, whose enmity is often masked by forced politeness and strategic alliances, challenge joshwa in ways that test his resolve and sharpen his acumen. their interactions are a complex dance of subtle jabs and veiled insults, their rivalry a constant reminder of the precarious balance of power. despite their antagonism, there exists a grudging respect for one another’s prowess, making their relationship a compelling mix of tension and intrigue.

right hand man in the labyrinthine corridors of power and the tumultuous seas of leadership, joshwa maraqos seeks a steadfast right hand—an individual whose loyalty and competence are as unwavering as the tides. this trusted advisor is more than a mere subordinate; they are a confidant and an extension of joshwa’s own will. their bond is forged in the crucible of shared challenges and triumphs, their understanding of each other’s strengths and weaknesses forming the bedrock of their partnership. this right hand man is not only a pillar of support but also a crucial strategist, helping joshwa navigate the treacherous waters of politics and ensuring that his decisions are executed with precision and integrity. ( doesn't have to be a man i was listening to hamilton ... don't look at me !! )

gilded ties the prospect of a betrothal looms on the horizon—an opportunity to weave new gilded ties that could fortify his family’s position. this potential union, while strategically advantageous, is also imbued with the promise of personal connection and mutual benefit. the individual in question is someone whose own lineage and standing complement joshwa’s ambitions, their marriage offering a chance to cement alliances and enhance their respective legacies. the betrothal is more than a political maneuver; it is a potential partnership that could bring together two powerful houses in a union of strength and mutual respect.

#westeros.intro #✧ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐚 ﹠ intro . .

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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 2 years ago

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Breathe Free (Part One)

Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He’d seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn’t about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he’s not too late!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Reader, Hospitals, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 5447

One Shot - Two Parts

Author’s Notes: I have been sick with Covid for a month. Well… down sick for 2 ½ weeks and recovering my stamina for 2 more. Its been a real bitch. Plus my disabled mother has it now. This is following a nervous breakdown I had in June. Writing has been my passion and my mental health balm, but I’ve not been able to produce anything in months. So this… this is a fucking triumph!! I’m still working on all my other WIP, so please stick around. I’ll get there… eventually :) I’m hoping to finish part two shortly and post in a week… ish.

Thank you all for the continued support! Masterlist Breathe Free (Part Two)

You were going to kill him. Honestly. If this fucking cold didn’t finish you off, you were going to make it your life’s mission to succeed where every bloody monster, demi-god, angel, demon, and creator of all had failed. Ridding the world of Dean Winchester would be a public service at this point. The church would canonize you for this! There would be bank holidays and parades in your honor. Maybe an annual postage stamp? A drink named after you at the local bar, at the least.

Of course, you’d have to live long enough to carry out your plan for fame and fortune. As it was, your odds were 50/50. Congestion, muscle aches, dizziness, sore throat, non-existent appetite and low-grade fever. How is it that each of these symptoms alone were minor? Almost unnoticeable. You could easily carry out any task battling them one on one. Yet together they took you down hard. It was unfair and utterly ridiculous! Not to mention hugely inconvenient.

It was probably that sneezing sheriff from that last case. You had to introduce him of the concept of personal space more than once. The douchebag said it was just allergies. Contagious creep!

Still, you were home now. Back at the bunker with three bags worth of pharmacy remedies to ease your pain until the virus ran it’s course. All you had to do was make it to your room and you could drown yourself in cough syrup and peppermint oil. Unfortunately, Dean was not making it easy.

“You sound like shit, Y/N.”

“Well, I feel like shit, so that tracks.”

You coughed harshly into the crook of your elbow as you trudged down the metal stairs behind Dean. Sam followed behind you, carrying your bags and his. Gentleman that he was. Levelheaded and sensible, God must have given Dean’s portion of those admirable qualities to his brother.

“That cough is getting worse,” Dean said, tossing his duffle down on the war room table.

“That’s because you won’t shut up.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Because you keep baiting me into conversation with all of your pushy opinions. If you didn’t make me talk so much, I wouldn’t be coughing so much!” You broke off into a hacking fit that proved your point in your mind. This was entirely his fault!

“That’s ridiculous. You’ve been talking non-stop since we met you five years ago and you never coughed up a lung because of it.” Dean shook his head and looked to his brother, “Sam, help me out here.”

Sam usually occupied neutral territory during these debates, but one look at you and he sided with Dean. “Why don’t we go get you checked out, Y/N?”

“I got checked out in Billings, they said it wasn’t Covid. It’s probably just a run of the mill virus.”

“That guy was like twelve,” Dean scoffed. “I’m surprised he knew what to do with swab.”

“He was a doctor, Dean!”

“Debatable.”

“There’s no harm in a second opinion,” Sam pointed out.

You were so tired you just wanted to cry. Why were they being so hard-headed about this? Typical! Men always think they know everything. It was all so simple for them, they never had to jump through the hoops that you did when getting care. It was always the same when you went to the doctor, which is why you never went. Doctors who dismiss your symptoms and bill you for the privilege. If you were up to your usual fiery disposition, you’d launch into a lengthy explanation, but you just didn’t have it in you.

“If I could get a decent one, I’d consider it. But the fucking truth is, I won’t. Not without a fight and I just don’t think it’s worth it. I’m not dying, I’m not bleeding. I’ve got a cold, a really shitty one that I hope to God neither of you get because dealing with sick Winchesters might actually finish me off.”

Dean frowned down at you, “What do you mean? What is it with you and doctors?”

“I do not have it in me to explain to you the numerous and colossal failings of the American healthcare system, so I am going to simply say this. It’s my health and I still get a choice. So, I’m going to my room where I can die in peace and hopefully tomorrow, I will be rise like the Phoenix with clear sinuses. If not, then my ghost will haunt this bunker and you two will have to fight over my George Carlin collection.”

Dean blinked at you for a moment, “You know, we killed a phoenix a few years back.”

You rolled your eyes and started down the hall towards the bedrooms. “If either of you wake me before noon, I’m licking every doorknob in this place.”

“It’s a great story, we had to time travel!” he shouted after you.

You voice echoed back, along with a few coughs, “I’m using your pillowcase to blow my nose!”

“I don’t like this, Sammy.”

Sam picked up his own duffle, “Of course you don’t. Your mother hen instincts go into overdrive whenever any of us gets sick. Remember Fort Worth?”

“Food poisoning, God that was awful. The pair of you were doubled over the toilet for three days from a damn salad.”

“And Nashville?”

“Shark week,” Dean muttered, remembering you curled up with a heating pad while he and Sam hunted vampires. You wouldn’t even talk to them, just whimpered occasionally and buried your head under the covers.

“Right. She doesn’t get sick often, but when she does all she wants to do is sleep. The more you try to help the more it irritates her. Just leave her be, she’ll let us know if she needs anything.”

That earned a frown from the older brother, as did the sound of another sneeze down the hall. You were a damn stubborn mule when you wanted to be, but that didn’t bother Dean. It was a useful quality that served you well in the field. But you tended to double down when you were hurt or scared, making a challenge for people who loved you to help.

And Dean did love you.

He came to that conclusion long ago when you burst in on him fighting off a werewolf in your barn. Barefoot, with a sawed-off shotgun in your hands. You were fearless, clocked the beast right between the eyes.

Then: “Are you alright?”

Dean rolled the dead body off him and got to his feet. He quickly took measure of the woman standing in the opened doorway. Silk short shorts and camisole peeked out from under a worn buffalo check flannel. Blood ran down bare legs and splattered in the cloud of wild curls that framed a pretty face. Angel with a shotgun.

Her expression was one of concern, but she kept a tight hold on her weapon. Smart girl.

“I should be asking you that question.”

You glanced down at the blood stains, “It’s not mine. My neighbor he, ah…I don’t know. He went… rabid. I put him down, didn’t want to hurt him, but he came at me…”

“If you hadn’t, he would have killed you. Or turned you. It was a mercy, believe me.”

You took solace in that. With a nod, you lowered your gun and glanced over at the werewolf, dead on the ground.

“I don’t suppose there’s a monster removal service we call in a situation like this?”

“It’s your lucky day Sweetheart, cause that’s me.” Dean stuck his hand out to you, “Dean Winchester, monster remover extraordinaire.”

You grinned, pulling your lower lip between your teeth and your eyes warmed up. It was a look he knew well; he’d seen it in women countless times. You thought he was cute. You put your hand in his for a handshake and he winked. You laughed softly, confirming his theory. You thought he was adorable, or at least charming. A good start!

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N. Pretty name. If you’ve got a shovel around here, I’ll take care of this. Then we can decide what to do about your neighbor.”

You grabbed a pair of shovels along with your rubber gardening boots that you kept by the potting bench.

“I built the retaining wall in the west garden by myself last summer,” you said, pulling the boots on. “I’m handy with a shovel.”

There was a glint of respect in his gaze as he studied you. It wasn’t every day he met a beautiful woman who offered to help him dig a grave in middle of the night. In her pajamas.

He glanced at the dead body then back to you. “You sure?”

“I’ve been saving this bottle of Canadian whiskey for something special. I think digging my first grave is the occasion I’ve been waiting for.”

Dean was a grade-A smart ass and never at a loss for a clever comeback. But damn if you didn’t knock him speechless. Standing in the middle of a falling down barn with a dead werewolf only a few feet away and blood splattered all over… you were the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a confident man who loved women. When he met a woman he liked, he turned on the charm, pursued her. Simple. But you… you held challenge in your eyes, pride in the tilt of your jaw and confidence in the carriage of your body.

You were a match to be met.

“Well Y/N, lets earn that whiskey.”

Now: The following morning, you didn’t come out of your room for breakfast. When he still hadn’t seen you by noon, he decided to hell with it. Even if you bit his head off, he was damn well going to check on you. He was Dean Winchester, damn it! He’d faced the Devil himself; he could handle a cranky woman with a head cold.

He stood quietly outside your bedroom, straining to hear any sign that you were awake. A moment later you broke into a series of coughs, and he took the opportunity to knock.

“Y/N?” He cracked the door open and stuck his head inside.

Your room was dark except for the glow from your laptop and the tiny light from the vaporizer billowing out peppermint scented air. Your bed was huge and took up most of the room. A king-sized masterpiece of cloud-like fluffiness and ruffles. Princess and the Pea inspired mattress topper and ivory striped pillows stuffed with goose down. Dean bragged about his memory-foam mattress so often that you took it as a challenge when they invited you pick a room and make it your own. The bed itself was so big it wouldn’t fit through any door in the bunker, begging the question… how did you manage it?

You’d teased Dean for weeks, refusing to tell him the simple cheat. Castiel did it for you.

Then: “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I pray to his feathery ass for weeks with no answer and you just up and ask him to move your princess bed and he does it? Poof?”

“Well, yeah. I said please.”

“It’s very… white.”

“I know. We go so many gross places, skeevy motels and hunts covered in monster goop. I wanted something clean. You know?”

Now: With the abundance of pillows and blankets piled on the bed, it was hard to make out your form in the middle of it all. Dean stepped over your discarded shoes and hunting clothes. There were piles of crumpled tissues all over the floor, cough drop wrappers and half drank bottles of water.

“What time is it?” you asked from the mountain of covers.

“Just past noon,” he replied, coming closer to the bed. “Thought maybe you’d want lunch.”

You shook your head and Dean could see you a bit clearer in the light of the computer. Your face was flushed more than it was the night before and your eyes were dull. You looked utterly miserable.

He sat on the side of the bed; his hand went to your forehead. You didn’t even pull away, “Fever. You take anything for it?”

Your finger pointed to the table littered with over-the-counter drugs and bottles. You’d taken everything for it, but nothing really helped.

“You get any sleep last night?”

“No,” you said on a sneeze, then groaned. “This blows. You should leave so I don’t give you the plague.”

“Hmm.” He stood there for a minute, then disappeared out into the hallway.

You burrowed back under your covers with a shiver, for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester actually did as you asked. You must be in worse shape than you thought.

A few minutes later, he reappeared with a large mug in his hands. “Wanna sit up, Sweetheart? I’ve got something special for you.”

With a grunt, you untangled yourself from the bedding and sat up against the padded headboard. He smiled fondly, you looked adorable, even as sick as you were. Your hair was held back in twin French braids that were starting to come loose and you were using one of his missing Henley’s for a night shirt. A few sizes too big, it hung off one of your shoulders.

“I was wondering where that went.”

You were confused for a second then tugged self-consciously at the collar buttons. “It made its way into my rotation after that Wendigo hunt.”

“Looks better on you anyway,” he held out the mug to you. “Drink this nice and slow, it’ll take care of that cough so you can sleep.”

“What is it?” you asked, stirring the steaming liquid with the cinnamon stick that propped against the rim.

“That is Bobby Singer’s patented, super-secret, cure all hot toddy. Sammy used to get sick all the time when we were kids, that stuff always put him right.”

You took a sip, it indeed soothed your throat and although you couldn’t really taste it, the burn of alcohol was distinct.

“Wow, how much whiskey is in Bobby’s hot toddy?”

“Enough to send you off to dreamland.” He stood and turned to leave. He knew you didn’t want to be bothered and now that you’d accepted his help, he felt a bit more confident in leaving you. For a while.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours and see if you can stomach some soup and crackers. Your meds will work better if you eat.”

He was almost to the door when you stopped him, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you kill the phoenix?”

“It’s a… a long story.”

You gave a small shrug, feeling silly. You’d made such a fuss yesterday about being left alone and now you found you wanted him to stay.

“I’m not exactly going anywhere.”

That earned you a genuine smile from him. He toed off his shoes and launched himself into the middle of your bed with a bellyflop.

“Dean!” You laughed, covering the top of the mug so the contents wouldn’t spill.

He made a big show of climbing up over the mountain of blankets and pillows, “Jesus, Y/N! How do you sleep on this pile of marshmallow fluff?”

“Shut it. You’ve been dying to try my bed since the day I moved in.”

“Who says I haven’t? Remember that trip you took to Jody’s last month? Sammy and I had a great time painting our toes and talking about boys in here.”

“Shut up,” you said with a cough.

“He wanted to try on your underwear, but I drew the line,” he teased, pulling you in close so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Comfortable?”

You tucked into his side and let your aching head rest on his chest. “Mmm.”

“Good. So, the year was 1861 and the place was Sunrise, Wyoming.”

Hours later, long after the hot toddy had done its job, you were deep asleep when Dean woke up. He was unbelievably hot, and you were the cause. Obviously, your fever had spiked. Sweat dotted your brow and soaked through your clothes to the point he was feeling damp where you were cuddled against him. He gently eased you off, feeling your forehead with a frown.

“Y/N? Wake up, sweetheart.”

You grumbled in your sleep and burrowed deeper under the covers when he pulled them back.

“Come on, Y/N,” he urged, pulling a thermometer from his shirt pocket.

You were only halfway awake when you realized there was a thin, glass tube under your tongue. “Wha thmm hemmm?”

“103.” He brushed the hair back that had stuck to your temples. “I think I should take you to the E.R. High fevers are nothing to mess around with.”

You shook your head, coughing deeply. “The meds just wore off.”

He handed you a box of tissues, “I think you need more than cough syrup and Tylenol. Let me take you to get looked at.”

“I’ll be okay Dean; I just need to give it time.”

Behind the exhaustion and illness, he could see flicker of fear in your eyes, and he was torn. The last thing he wanted was to push you or take away your choice, but he wasn’t going to let this get out of control.

He sighed heavily, “Okay, we’ll try it your way. On two conditions. One, you need to eat something, so you keep your strength up.”

“Okay,” you agreed, trying not to cough again. “And two?”

“If this gets worse, you’ll let me take you to the doctor.” He could feel you instantly withdraw, but he wasn’t going to let you. This was too important. He crooked a finger under your chin, gently coaxing you to look at him.

“I know it scares you, you don’t have to tell me why. Trust me, I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

Your reluctance met with his resolve and after a moment, you nodded. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” Dean praised, brushing a kiss across your forehead. “Now, if you’re very good, I’ll bring you a bowl of tomato rice soup.”

“With that bacon cheddar panini you made last time?”

“Woman after my own heart,” Dean said. He climbed out of the bed, then noticed you doing the same.

“Whoa, wait a minute. Where do you think you’re going?”

“A shower, I feel disgusting,” you muttered, pawing through the bottles on the nightstand.

“No way, that fever is way too high. And you use water hot enough to burn off fingerprints.”

You tossed back a couple of Tylenol with a generous swallow of water. “If I smell as awful as I feel, then you shouldn’t be discouraging me.”

“Y/N…”

“Super quick, more of a rinse than a shower.”

“Ten minutes. Any longer and I’m coming in after you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you replied, gathering a fresh set of pajamas.

“Keep that water tepid,” he called after you.

Once you were alone in the shower room, you turned on the water and allowed yourself the coughing fit you’d been holding in. Dean was worried enough about you. As sweet as he was, there was a claustrophobic feeling bubbling within you. It came from a childhood spent as a sick kid. Parents, teachers, doctors all seemed to hover. Stealing your air and breathing down your neck.

Hidden in the clean clothes were two small bottles of essential oils. An old remedy passed down from your grandpa. You striped down and stepped under the water. It wasn’t nearly as warm as you’d like it, but it was better than nothing. You uncapped the bottles and sprinkled the contents over the floor. They mixed with the heat and made a fragrant steam of peppermint and eucalyptus. You braced your hands against the tiled wall and let your head hang down. A few minutes breathing in the steam worked to open your nasal passages and more importantly, your lungs.

Tightness had been building in your chest since last night and out of all the symptoms, that was the most troubling. Not even that heavy duty decongestant cut it, and that stuff always helped. Thankfully, Granddad’s method never let you down. You breathed as deeply as you could, until the coughing it caused made the room spin and your knees go wobbly.

You sank down onto the wall bench and turned the water off. You shivered and tried to work up a bit of strength to dry off and get dressed. Utterly exhausted, even the thought of standing was enough to tire you. Of course, you knew if you sat there long enough, Dean would come searching for you. Potentially naked or not.

Then: The shrill scream cut through the bunker, reaching Dean even through his headphones. He was on his feet and down the hall as another shout echoed from the shower room. A twist of the handle didn’t yield entry. Sam was out on a supply run, which meant you were the one trapped inside.

Dean took a step back and splintered the door off its hinges with a single kick.

Gun drawn, he burst into the steam filled room, “Y/N?!”

You were standing on top of one of the teak benches that lined the shower wall. Soaking wet with shampoo suds cascading down your very naked body. Your already wide eyes got even bigger, and you screamed again. You crossed your arms over your breasts and crouched down into a ball, it was the quickest option for modesty.

“Dean!”

He peered through the steam and the still running water, gun still drawn, “YN, what the hell?! What’s going on?!”

“Spider.”

He blinked, twice. “What?”

You pointed a watery finger towards the middle of the tiled floor, “By the drain. Huge, HUGE spider.”

Dean tucked his gun into the back waistband of his jeans, “Damn it, Y/N. I thought you were being attacked!”

“Why would I be attacked? You guys said this bunker is the safest place on Earth!”

Dean angrily threw a towel at you. “You were screaming bloody murder! What the hell else was I going to think?!”

You wrapped the towel around your body, tucking It securely under your arms. “I don’t like spiders, okay?”

“We just got back from a freaking ghoul hunt, with dead bodies and gore and guts… the whole nine. You didn’t flinch once, but a bug’s got you clutching your pearls?”

“It’s an irrational fear, professor,” you replied, switching the water off. “But since you’re here to rescue me… would you please?”

Dean rolled his eyes but inspected the drain all the same. “I don’t see a spider.”

“What?!” You looked around frantically, then grabbed Dean’s arm and pointed, “There! In the corner.”

He pulled his red handkerchief from his pocket, “Alright, I got him.”

“Wait! Don’t kill him! Just… catch and release.”

“You’re awfully picky for a damsel in distress,” Dean muttered. “Is this one of your superstitions, like that cricket in Rhode Island? Is it bad luck to kill a north-facing spider on a Tuesday?”

“Nearly every culture believes that killing a cricket brings bad luck.”

“You know what brings really bad luck? Going into a vamp nest on no sleep because a fucking cricket was cruising for a date in our bathtub!”

“That spider doesn’t deserve to die because of my fear. I just… I don’t want to kill anything else. Not now, not if I don’t have to. Do you?”

You raised your beautiful, luminous eyes and searched out his. His heart beat in double time and he was suddenly acutely aware of the tiniest details. Tendrils of your hair dripped water like diamonds on your shoulders and collarbones. Your skin glowed a healthy pink, you probably used that fluffy loofa thing you always left hanging on faucet. The scent of your favorite soap hung heavy in the air… what was it? Ginger peach? God, he loved it! You had lotion that went with it and a tiny hand sanitizer that you kept in your purse. It made his whole car smell like you when you used it, even after you were gone.

Dean gave himself a mental shake. In under five minutes you had taken him on an emotional rollercoaster from panic to irritation to confusion to completely mesmerized. How did you do that?! It was happening more and more. Every time he was around you, he discovered another piece of the puzzle. He could never predict what you were going to say, but somehow it was always just what he needed to hear. You voiced the emotions that he had never been able to put into words.

“No,” he said at last. “I don’t want to kill anything else either.”

Now: Dean was at the stove when you shuffled into the kitchen. He smiled at you over his shoulder while you sat at the table. You were in your Christmas leggings and yet another of his missing shirts. Your face wasn’t as flushed as it had been when you first woke up, a positive sign.

“Hope you’ve got your appetite back, because this batch of tomato rice soup is on point.”

“Your cooking is always on point,” you smiled wanly as he set down a bowl in front of you.

“You’re not wrong,” he replied, running his hand over your forehead. “Fever’s down. You feel better?”

“The shower helped.”

“You smell like a candy cane,” he chuckled, taking a massive bite of his sandwich.

“Peppermint oil. For congestion,” you explained.

You considered the man across the table from you as you silently ate your soup. You couldn’t properly taste it, but it was warm and soothed your raw throat. You’d known Dean Winchester for five years and there were still moments like this, moments where you felt like you were seeing him clearly for the first time. The delightful domestic behind the swagger and the grit. He took such pure joy in the mundane that it was hard not to get swept up in it. The greatest hunter in the world was also the kindest. Surely there was some sort of cosmic balance working itself out there, but you were too tired to reflect on it.

“So,” Dean said, pulling you from your thoughts. “You up for a little movie marathon in the Dean cave?”

“That would depend on what’s showing.”

“Lady’s choice. So long as it doesn’t have subtitles.”

“La Dolce Vita is a classic!”

“Die Hard is a classic,” Dean countered. “Plus, it’s a Christmas movie so it counts double.”

“Ugh, fine. You big baby.” You thought for a moment, covering a cough with the back of your hand. “How about Ghostbusters?”

Dean grinned at that, “Yeah?”

“Or Stripes or um… Caddyshack. Mom was a Bill Murray fan; we always watched him when I was sick.”

“Sounds like Mom had good taste,” Dean picked up the dishes and headed to the sink. “Why don’t you go find a comfortable spot on the couch? I’ll be right behind you.”

Laughter always was the best medicine. And Dean always was the best cuddler. He brought his gigantic triple thick comforter from his bed and tucked the two of you under it as the 80’s classic played on the flatscreen. It didn’t take long for the full stomach and the warm hunter to lull you back into a deep sleep. You were out before the credits rolled.

Your hacking cough that woke Dean hours later. It was different this time, you were coughing so much that you couldn’t seem to catch your breath. He was right behind you as you hunched over the arm of the couch. As he rubbed your back, he could feel how deeply your lungs rattled. It was a distinct, wet sounding cough that shook your whole frame. Heat from your spiked fever radiated through your shirt to his palm.

He was saying something to you, but you couldn’t make out the words, only the soothing tone of his voice. You were truly miserable. Your head ached with every cough and when you finally managed to stop hacking, you struggled to catch your breath. A glass of water floated in front of you, and you drank it greedily.

One word broke through your haze: Doctor. You didn’t really hear him say it, but the implication was there.

To his surprise, and as a testament to how awful you felt, you nodded your agreement. The relief was evident in his voice, “There’s my girl. Stay put; I’m going to warm up the car.”

As Dean left, you took stock. The fever ravaging your system left you feeling disgusting, but you were too tired do anything about it. Your head was pounding from the coughing fit and your chest was so tight it was painful to draw breath. You looked down at your pajamas; the snowflake leggings and borrowed shirt were hardly a fashion choice, but they would have to do.

There was an awful taste in your mouth had to go. You could manage a swish of mouthwash, even if you had to sit on the toilet to do it.

The minute your stocking feet touched the ground, everything changed. Your chest got painfully tight. The feeling of a crushing weight on your chest, as if Dean had driven his car over you and parked it. The room started to spin and not even holding on to the table made the world steady. You went down with a thump, landing hard on your ass. Breathing became like sucking air through a tiny straw, you simply couldn’t. Your mouth gaped open as you tried and failed to draw air. Panic swiftly set in as your fingers and toes went numb from lack of oxygen. Your vision blurred and went dark around the edges. You dropped to your side and prayed Dean would be quick.

He was gone five minutes, tops. The sight of you curled on the floor had him shouting for Sam as he quickly knelt beside you.

“Y/N! Baby, look at me, I’m right here… Sam!!”

You tired to talk but, no sound came out. Your hand was on your chest and there was a wheezing sound. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

Shit! He wasn’t sure what had caused this attack, but it didn’t matter. He had you in his arms as Sam burst through the doorway

Sam’s eyes went wide as he took in your pale features and distress, “What the hell?!”

“Hospital now, you’re driving!”

By the time the Impala was squealing out of the bunker’s garage, you were fully unconscious. Your limp body sagged against Dean’s chest while he tried to get you to respond. Sam was alternating between watching the road and checking the rearview on your deteriorating condition. His foot pressed the accelerator down, pushing the Impala to the limit.

“What the fuck happened? I thought she just had a cold.”

“Its this cough, she couldn’t shake it.” Dean kept you upright in his lap, knowing it was the easiest position for you to breathe in. He could feel you losing the battle, even your lips were turning from red and chapped to slightly blue and it scared the hell out of him.

How the hell did you get this bad so quickly? He had kept a close eye on you, kept your fever under control, kept you hydrated. It just didn’t make any sense! If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought you had… asthma.

Flashes came to Dean’s mind; puzzle pieces fell into place. The vaporizer in your room billowing out peppermint was not a new addition; you took it with you everywhere. It made even the grossest motel rooms halfway pleasant. You always kept a scarf wrapped around your neck if the weather was even a little cold, and you pulled it up over your nose when the wind got bitter. Even that time you helped them burn a body. You turned away from the pyre and pulled that scarf up… Dean thought it was the smell that got to you.

“Shit,�� he muttered, digging through your purse as Sam got closer to the city limits. He pulled out a metal tube with a plastic dispenser.

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam’s eyes caught the reflection, “Is that an inhaler?”

Turning it over, Dean read the prescription. “She’s fucking asthmatic!”

He steadied your lolling head with his hand and brought the inhaler to your mouth, “Okay, baby… this medicine is gonna help you. Breathe it in for me.”

He dispensed two puffs into your mouth and prayed the meds got down into your lungs. Was it the right thing to do? Use an inhaler on an unconscious person? Dean had no idea, but he was going to do whatever he needed to do to save you. He cradled you on his lap and prayed as Sam pulled into the Lebanon Hospital parking lot.

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen x y/n #supernatural #spn fic #Breathe Free

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