#eventual dean winchester x castiel

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Purgatorial

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, time loop!

Summary/Warnings: Something is frighteningly familiar about the day. You feel as if you've done this all before. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: Palm Springs top ten movies of all time. That's not at all what this is but I just wanted to do some non-sponsored promotion of my favorite time loop movie. Enjoy the story!

Word Count: 6.4k

Read on A03! - Chapter 2

You’ve been here before.

You’ve literally been here before.

Staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, a fluffy blanket tangled over your limbs but your bed stripped on its sheets, and Dean loudly singing from the kitchen. 

This is how you woke up yesterday. Or- This is how you woke up in your dream, or simply a while ago in a faded memory, because you remember yesterday but it’s all fogged and clouded, as if some had dragged it through mist and smoothed all its features. The familiarity is eerie, but it could just be the lost haze of whatever was making your head pound and the world spin as you push up on your feet.

You must have been drinking last night. You don’t remember drinking—you don’t remember much, past a haze of Dean voice grunting in your ear something that’s only jumbled noise in your brain—but that could just be a result of the drinking. Cas keeps impossibly strong vodkas in the kitchen, because they were the only thing that gave him a buzz and he likes to be included.

He always stops you from drinking them, when you try to climb on the counter and grab them while no one is looking.

Maybe last night you finally managed to slip past him, and you’re paying the price now. Everything just feels like Déjà vu because your brain is floundering to recover from the night of drinking what Sam had called legally poison. You’ve woken up in your bedroom countless times. Dean sings like that every other morning. This is how most days begin, so it’s probably nothing-

Something clatters and bangs down the hall, and you wince as the sound echoes through the room.

“Son of a bitch!” 

Dean’s shout is a higher pitch than you’ve ever really heard it.

But it’s still oddly familiar. 

And that’s probably nothing.

Pushing out of bed and shuffling down the hall takes more effort than it should, but you’re the room is spinning, and the bunker is filled with fluorescent lights that always seem to flare at the wrong time, and why does Dean always insist on being off key when you know the asshole can sing-

“Morning, sunshine.” Dean looks up at you from the floor, a mess of eggs and bacon on the floor across the kitchen, and you blink at him. 

You’ve seen this before. The pan upside down on the counter, Dean crouching with a rag in his hand, the trash can dragged to his side as he glares at the mess scattered across the tiles. 

“I- uh,” you swallow, everything moving too slow and your words mechanical and slow, because you’re sure you’ve said them before. “I think it’s more like noon?”

“Nah, eleven. Still morning.” Dean points over his shoulder to the sink, and a little bit of egg falls out of his rag. “Can you grab me the cleaner, sweetheart? Gotta clean this up before Sammy gets back from his run and tries to teach me how to use a mop again.”

“What do you say, Winchester?” You cross your arms, raising your brows at him, and that must be familiar because you’ve done it a million times before. And Dean’s always rolled his eyes like that, and you’ve always grinned at how adorably grumpy he can be. This is Deja vu because you live in these moments all the time.

Where Dean’s looking at you, and only you, and he’s glaring but there’s no hatred or real annoyance behind his features. He likes playing this game just as much as you do. 

He doesn’t love it, adore it, live for it every single second of every single day, but he enjoys it. 

And that itself makes these moments ones you replay a million times, because you have no other way to hold him with your hands, so you grab every grin and word by the throat and add it to the mural of Dean that covers your skull.

“Please,” he grunts your name, and there’s a light in his eyes that ignites over your ribs. “Save my ass and get the cleaner.”

“Hm,” you tilt your head at him, pretending that you’re actually thinking about it—you’re already sold, you were sold the moment Dean said can you and it was something that was possible—and hold his gaze just long enough for him to look a little worried, and then you grin. “Okay.”

You step over his arm—supporting him against the counter—to get to the sink, and it brushes against your thigh. Sparks fly over your skin and your blood fills with light for only a second, and then it’s all gone as you keep moving, and Dean stays behind you.

That’s happened before. It happens whenever Dean touches you, but it’s still familiar in a way that’s far too specific. Almost as if he’d hit a raw, open wound. A place he’d already shot and branded you before, and now the contact is twice at strong.

This whole morning feels too familiar. Dean has winked at you a million times before, and you’ve sat on the stool watching him so often it could be classified as an addiction, and the bunker door has always echoed behind Sam when he got back from a run, but this feels like more. Like a polaroid photo stuck in a faded but over saturated color, a snapshot of something you know you’ve seen before.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you.” Sam walks into the kitchen, and you’d already been looking at the door. As if you’d been expecting him. “You look like a keyed car.”

Dean’s head shoots up from beside you, where he’d been grumbling about the gross lack of food in the fridge and glaring at his hand. “Did someone key my fucking car-“

“No, it’s a metaphor-“

“Simile. Not a metaphor.” You hum, shredding the paper towel in your hands into tiny little pieces you—somehow—know won’t be cleaned later. “And he dropped his breakfast.”

Dean scowls. “Fucking frying pan burnt me, I didn’t just drop it-“

“Burnt you?!” You grab Dean’s hand before you can think, turning it over to find a swollen, blistering red mark. “You- Fucking Christ, Dean you need to ice that-“

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-“

“Nah, man.” Sam leans over your shoulder, frowning at Dean’s palm in your hand. “That looks like it’s second degree.“

You swallow, your eyes fixed the mark—long and red and thin, in the shape of the pan’s handle—and you could fucking swear you’d seen it before. He hadn’t even said which hand he’d burned, but you’d grabbed the right one, and this is so strange-

Dean clears his throat, and when you look up he’s rubbing the back of his neck, staring at where you’re still holding him. “I kinda need my hand back. If you’re gonna make me ice the damn thing-“

“I’m not making you do anything.” You mutter, releasing him with a frown. ”But you should-“

“I gonna. I’m goin’ right now.” Dean pushes out of his seat, giving the fridge a longing, rueful look as he passes it. “Sammy, you goin’ out to get food later-“

Sam shakes his head. “I need to clean up, dude, I just ran ten miles-“

“That’s too many miles.” Dean mutters, and you can’t stop looking between them with a slight gape hanging from your mouth. You’ve heard this conversation before. “Gonna pull a hamstring or something-“

“I won’t. You would. But we,” Sam gestures between himself and you, and you stare at him, feeling a little frozen as you mouth along with his next words. “Aren’t made of grease and junk. We’ll be fine.”

Dean scoffs, and you know what he’s going to say as well. “I’m not grease and junk-“

“You were eating bacon.”

“We don’t have anything else, and I don’t hate myself enough to eat your damn rabbit food-“

“Well, that’s why you’d pull a hamstring-“

Dean scowls, and you feel your hands mirror his as he presses the ice to his palm. “I’m not in the mood for your health shit, Sammy, I’m starving and we have nothing-“

“We have Lucky Charms.” You say, and it feels like a cue. Like that’s what you were supposed to say, from some invisible script, at that exact moment. “In the cabinet. And I’m not going on one of your runs, Sam. Stop trying to convince me.”

Sam lets out a long sigh, giving you a disappointed look, and Dean’s grin could power the entire bunker for a year. 

“That’s my girl.” He shoots Sam a smug look, and you swallow.

He’s said that before. It had punched you in the gut in the exact same way, and his smile had been that exact amount of blinding, and you’d felt this electricity in your blood at the same voltage, and-

“I’m gonna call Cas,” your voice is a whisper, and you feel like a tape recorder. You’ve said this before. “We’ll go to the store after I get dressed.”

Sam and Dean nod, and you know exactly what happens next. Dean goes to grab the Lucky Charms, and you’re supposed to giggle when he lets out a loud groan and the lack of “normal” milk in the fridge. You tell him that you’ll get three bottles, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. And then he grumbles about having to use Sammy’s stupid fuckin’ plant milk, and puts his hand on your lower back as he reaches to grab it, and your breath hitches.

He stares at you. You’re supposed to stare back, and get lost in his eyes for a long second—just long enough to burn them like a neon light over your vision—before excusing yourself with soft words. 

You walk past the shower, and Sam’s singing Celine Dion. Your hands tap to the beat before you even pick up on the exact song, because you’ve heard it before. You get dressed and it feels like a costume. What you’re supposed to be wearing. 

Cas is right in front of your door when you open it, and you don’t jump like you usually would. 

You’d known, somehow, that he’d be there.

“I heard we are going shopping.” He tilts his head at you, and you nod slowly, the right words creeping into your throat.

“Yeah, if we don’t, I’m worried Dean will resort to something stupid.”

He may take drastic measures to get bacon. 

“He may take drastic measures to get bacon.” Cas hums, reaching out to hold you by the shoulder. “Have you eaten today?”

You nod slowly. “I had the last apple.”

“I will make sure we land near a bathroom, then.”

You don’t get further warning before the world turns to a blur. Molding and morphing from the bunker hall into the meat isle of a grocery store, and you feel sick, and-

“It should be to your righ-“

You’re stumbling to the bathroom before Cas can finish his sentence, and you always vomit like this after he flies you somewhere, but this is different. There’s a ghosting image over your vision of this exact bile in this exact toilet bowl, and when you shuffle back to Cas, you’re not surprised he’s not where you left him.

And you find him too fast. In the snack isle, scanning over the million Oreo flavors with a frown.

He doesn’t look up as you approach him. You hadn’t expected him to.

“I didn’t mean to wander.” He hums. “I find it fascinating that there are so many varieties of one, simple cookie. Is double stuffed not enough?”

“Not for most people, no.” You point to the Mint Oreos, and they feel like a fucking prop. “These ones aren’t even that good, but that’s never stopped anyone before.”

“Hm.” Cas shrugs, grabbing the Mint Oreos, and you’re pulling out your phone before he can even ask the question. “Do we have a list of our required items?”

“Yeah, I had Sam text me everything.” 

Cas opens his mouth. You cut him off a beat before you were supposed to.

“If I asked Dean, we’d buy half the store.”

Cas nods, and that’s the last Dean will be mentioned until the checkout aisle. You know that. You still can’t tell how you know that, but you do, and all of this still feels like it’s played out before. It’s more than Deja vu. It’s a show. You will stand on your mark, right at Cas’ side, and on cue you’ll make a joke to match his dry comment. You’ll let him buy five bottles of honey, and you’ll talk him into sharing a tub of ice cream with you, and you need to get these apples and not those ones because that’s that the invisible script calls for.

You’re not supposed to speak of anything but food and the pre-set list until it’s time to pay. Then Cas will say-

“You told me the list called for pumpkin pie.”

And you need to respond-

“That’s because Sam is trying to trick Dean into eating healthier.”

“Pumpkin pie is not healthy-“

“It’s healthier than other pies.” You shrug now, and the movement feels mechanical, and Cas is frowning at you.

“Then why is this cherry pie.”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to answer. You have to hum and fidget with your own fingers, until Cas speaks again. 

“You do not wish to try and change him. To make Dean try and be something else.”

Now you have to blink at Cas. “I- I want him to be healthy, I just know he doesn’t like being tricked like that-“

“Because you care for him.”

“Because I know him-“

“And your feelings bar you from engaging in deception against him.” Cas places the pie on the belt, his voice remaining too casual for how your heart is pounding at your chest. “If it is any help, I agree. I do not believe the way for Dean to improve his health is via deception.”

You swallow. “Um-“

“I do believe he would be helped by you being forthcoming about your feelings. It would serve as motivation.”

“I- what?”

“Your romantic and sexual feeling towards Dean-“

The air becomes too thin, but you’d been expecting it. This whole conversation is too heavy in your throat and making your heartbeat like a drum—right out of your chest to spill over the floor, because these words were never supposed to be said aloud, where people could hear them—but you’d been braced for it.

And you have a phantom memory of the same conversation, but you hadn’t been braced. You’re supposed to stumble back and gape at Cas, but you’d been ready.

You’ve done this before, so you were ready.

“I, um, there’s- You haven’t told him, right?” The words are falling out of you at a frantic pace, but it’s still not as fast as they should be. “Cas, don’t tell him-“

“He is not aware.” Cas frowns into the air, watching you carefully as he continues. “But I firmly believe that it would be to both your benefits to have a conversation-“

“No- it’s-“ Long breath. Run your hand through your hair. “It’s complicated. I- please don’t tell him. He can’t know. Please.”

Cas says your name, and his tone is cautious, and your blood is going to leak out of your body. “I am… more perceptive than most. I know you anticipate rejection, but I do not think the conversation would end as you fear-“

“Cas.” You make your voice firm, and shake your head. “Please. Drop it.”

He does. He looks like he’s going to push it, but you relax before he nods and turns back to the shopping belt, because you know he’s going to drop it.

Just like you know he’s going to only make you carry two bags, and will bring you back to the bunker right next to the bathrooms again. 

And you’ll vomit, and he’ll put all the groceries away. And Dean will be in the library when you get there, and he’ll grin at you, and you’ll flush.

“I got you pie.” You whisper, because that’s how you’re supposed to say it. “Cas put it in the fridge.”

His grin widens. “You’re an angel,” he’ll say your name, and you’ve already pulled a blanket over your body to hide the squeeze of your thighs. 

“No,” you return his smile, pulling a book into your lap. “He’s putting the pie away.”

Dean snorts, and it’s a horrible, cheap-shot joke, but it works. You’d known it would work. And Dean will ask what else you got, and you’ll tell him. Sam will come in after exactly three hours, look between you and Dean—pretending to read but mostly just talking and smiling—with a dramatic sigh, and then walk out again. 

“He’s grumpy you’re not falling for his death-traps.” Dean mock whispers, and you giggle.

“I don’t think he cares that much, Dean. They’re just runs-“

“You’re wounding him. Brushing Sammy’s massive ego by calling his runs stupid-“

You hum, giving him a pointed look. “Sam’s massive ego?”

“Uh huh.” A bright joy dancing behind Dean’s eyes as he holds your gaze, and you melt a little into your chair. “Turn a man down enough and he’s gonna start falling apart.”

“I think he’ll recover.” You drawl, and Dean just shrugs.

There’s a long moment of silence here. Dean will break it.

“You still seeing that guy from the city?”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

“The suit and tie asshole, from the bar last month.” Dean frowns at his book. He’s not going to look up at you for the rest of the conversation, and your heart is going to tighten and feel like stone, right here, until at least the end of the day. “Sam said you were out with him last week.”

“Sam is a liar.” You say, and guilt will twist in your gut because Sam’s not a liar. You’re the liar. You had gone to see the Suit from the City, because you’d been cold and lonely in your too-big bed, and Dean had come home the night before with a hickey, and you hadn’t known how else to handle it beside finding an artificial warmth that you’d known wouldn’t last.

Because it wasn’t Dean’s warmth. The only heat that ever lingered was set off by Dean, but it was never enough, and it always faded to something colder than before. Something that had more longing burned and tainted over your skin, that would be harder and harder to replicated and fill with flickering, weak embers.

You don’t know why Dean cares. Why he’s asking at all. You do know that, in about ten minutes, he’ll stand up, grumble that he’s going out, and leave. The slam of the door echoing behind him, and you’ll move to sit in his chair because it’s a simple, easy way to steal a little more of his heat. 

He’ll call you in five hours. His voice will be slurred over the phone, and you won’t understand half of what he’s saying but you’ll know he’s drunk, and shouldn’t drive himself home.

You’ll send Cas to get him. 

And Dean will shove Cas away from him the moment they pop into the bunker, collapsing over you instead.

You’re supposed to stumble back. But you’d been ready for it. Just as you’re ready for him to grab your face between his hands, and say your name like it’s… Something. Anything. More than just your name. 

“You’re- Look at her, Cas-“ His words mold together in your head, and you can’t really hear them because Dean’s touching you, and you’ve never been warmer. “Son a bitch, she’s pretty- I need- gotta tell her-“

He slumps slightly, his head dropping to your shoulder, and you don’t call to Cas for help. That’s not what needs to happen here.

You get to run your hand through Dean’s hair and hear him moan in your ear, and then you get to help him to bed. He’ll keep muttering low praise that you’re going to be stuck thinking about until the day you die, and when you try and put him to bed, he’s going to drag you right down with him. 

“Dean.” You whisper in his ear, and he squeezes you around your waist. Keeping you pressed his chest, and he smells like whiskey and you- 

You don’t know what you’re supposed to say here. 

For the first time all day, this is new. Nothing is familiar, and the world feels too real. Dean is big and strong around you, and you can hear the pound of his heart and feel every flex of his muscles. The world is sharp and bright and violent in your head because suddenly it’s too much, and you don’t know what’s about to happen. 

“Dean.” You repeat, because it’s the only thing you can know for sure. Dean’s here, and he’s—for now—still awake to hear you. “I- You’re holding me really tight-“

“Gotta hold you,” he mutters, hauling you a further up his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re gonna leave.”

“I-“ You frown, trying to push up on his chest to look at him, but he’s strong. You’re stuck. It’s doing unfair things to your gut and heart, and part of you knows you’re never going to recover from this. From Dean. From him holding you like this, and you not having enough will to fight it, because you crave it more than anything. “I’d never leave, Dean-“

“Good.” He hums, and you can feel his voice. Rumbling in his chest and moving into your ribs, breath fanning right over your ear and making your whole body shiver against him. “Can’t do it… Don’t- you need to be here, baby. Need you.”

“Dean.” He’s talking nonsense. You can’t hold onto this too tight, because he’s drunk and talking nonsense. You still can’t push away. “You need sleep.”

He hums, and his words are barely a breath. “Need you. Better than sleep. Love you more than sleep.”

The first snore tears through the room, and you can’t think. You can only hear Dean, over and over and over. Love. He said love. Dean said he loves you and he’s still here and love, why would he say love and then just fucking fall asleep, why would he say love at all-

Everything fades to black, and the last thought you have before a light seems to turn off far in the distance is just an echo of Dean’s voice, saying love.

———

You’ve been here before.

You’ve literally been-

Fuck.

The ceiling. Th blanket. No sheets and no memory of how they vanished.

Dean hits a horrible, off-key high note, you sit up with a start, and this can’t be right. Or good. Or logical.

But you’ve been here before. Twice.

And it’s not a dream or show or sense of Deja vu. 

It’s real. It’s happening again. And when you take a long, deep breath and dig your nails into your arms to make sure you’re still alive, you count down from three and-

“Son of a bitch!”

You almost vault out of the bed, discarding the blanket on the floor as you sprint down the bunker hall, slamming your gut into the counter as you skid to a stop.

“Fuckin’-“ Dean shouts your name, and a second clatter echoes through the kitchen as you groan. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dean moves to your side in an instant, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep your upright, and you should’ve leaned into him. On any other day you would’ve just whined and molded into Dean’s side, grumbling about Sam’s habit of wiping the floor until they’re practically ice rinks and letting Dean laugh as he took care of you.

But today is not any other day.

Today is yesterday. And—if your horrible, gut twisting feeling is right—the day before as well.

Today you grab Dean’s hand before he can protest, and feel your blood freeze through your body.

There’s a long, thin, bubbling red mark on his palm. When you look around his body to the floor, bacon and eggs are scattered on the tiles. 

Fucking- Fuck-

“You need to ice that.” You mutter, pushing yourself out of Dean’s grip and moving to the freezer. “It’s second degree.”

Dean shakes his head, trialing behind you. “It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-“

“Ice it.” You snap, tossing him an ice pack with a firm glare. “And there’s Lucky Charms in the cabinet. Eat that while I clean.”

Dean looks between you and the ice pack, slowing pressing it to his palm as he watches you march to grab the mop. “You feeling okay? You’re- you seem a bit, I dunno, touchy-“

“I’m feel great.” Your voice is flat. Drained. You feel mechanical, as if you’re drifting through every motion, and that doesn’t feel like it will bode well for the future. “There’s no milk in the fridge.”

“You sound great.” Dean drawls, still only a few paces behind you. “And I saw milk in there before you busted in, we’re good-“

“It’s Sam’s milk.”

“No, it’s-“ You hear the fridge door open, and Dean cuts himself off with a groan. “Son a bitch-“

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you move back to the mess on the floor. “I’m going shopping with Cas later. After I clean this up and get dressed.”

He nods, and you clean, and this is a little different. Maybe you just needed to realize what was happening, and it will all be a horrible dream. 

Maybe you’ll scrape the last eggshells into the trash, and sit down next to Dean as he eats all the marshmallows in his cereal, and it’ll all be okay-

Dean gives you a wide grin, and places his good hand on your thigh. Right where he’d brushed against you before. Sparks. Sunlight in your blood. Raw and wired and beautiful right to the point of pain, just like before.

“You’re an angel, sweetheart, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you offer him a weak smile in return, and he takes a long, deep breath.

“I mean it. You’re- I mean- Son of a bitch. Never mind.”

Dean glares back to your cereal, his brows drawn and jaw clenched. Something’s off. This whole thing is off, but you still know Dean, and something’s off with him.

“Dean-“

“Dude, what’s wrong with you.” Sam walks into the kitchen. This whole thing feels like a crude, poorly crafted joke. “You look like a keyed car.”

Dean’s head shoots up from beside you. “Did someone key my fucking car-“

“No, it’s a-“

“Simile.” You whisper. You’re going to throw up. “It’s not a metaphor, Sam. It’s a simile. And Dean burnt his breakfast and his hand, but he’s icing it. You should go shower, you just ran ten miles.”

“I, uh-“ Sam blinks at you. “That was the plan, yeah. Are you feeling alright?”

You nod, and Dean makes a face in Sam’s direction.

“Course she’s alright, you didn’t force her on one of those stupid runs-“

“They’re not stupid, dude. Movement is good for the body-“

“Not if you pull a hamstring-“

“I’ve never pulled a hamstring. Neither has she. You would, but we,” Sam gestures between himself and you, and you cut him off with a choked whisper.

“Aren’t made of grease and junk. We’ll be fine.”

Dean shoots you a glare. “I am not grease and junk-“

Sam snorts. “You were eating bacon.”

“We don’t have anything else, and I don’t hate myself enough to eat your damn rabbit food-“

“Well, that’s why you’d pull a hamstring-“

“I have to go call Cas!” You half scream, shooting up out of your chair. “And I’m not doing a run, Sam. And Dean’s getting cherry pie, not pecan.”

Dean grins at you. “Awesome. Suck on that, Health Boy.”

Sam grunts, mostly just frowning at you. “Shut up, dude. Uh,” he scans over your panicked movements, saying your name is a slow, careful tone. “Are you sure you’re good-“

“Yeah! Just gotta- Cas. Pie.”

You scramble out of the kitchen, and behind you Dean chuckles, his words still somehow audible over your heartbeat.

“That’s my girl. Priorities, Sammy. Priorities.”

It’s amazing you stay on your feet. It’s amazing you get changed, and open the door, and manage to not scream at Cas for help the moment you see him.

You’d still eaten the apple. You still vomit when you reach the store, and everything falls in a disgusting, perfectly places picture of yesterday, and you find Cas staring at the Oreos.

“Double-stuffed isn’t enough.” You say, and he turns to you with a frown.

“I- That is exactly what I was wondering.” He nods over your shoulder. “What about Mint?”

“They taste like shit. I have a list, and we can get five bottles of honey.” You take a deep, shaking breath, watching Cas carefully. “Is anything- I don’t know do you sense anything that’s wrong? With the world?”

“Many things are wrong with the world,” he shrugs. “The phenomenon humans have named ‘climate change’ is about 236% worse than your scientist believe, there are an uncountable amount of living creatures in imminent peril at this very second, and the washer in the bunker laundry room is jammed with sheets-“

“No, I know,” you shake your head, fidgeting with your fingers as you frown around the aisle. “You’re just more perceptive than most, and I was wondering if you’d noticed things being- I- Just off-“

Cas frowns at you. “Is this about you and Dean?” 

“I- no-“

“Sorry.” Cas tilts his head at you, his voice dropping slightly. “I did not mean to overstep. I am simply aware of your… complex feelings for him, and believe that it would be to both your benefits to have a conversation-“

If this is a part of every loop, you’re going to shoot yourself in the head.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You snap, pulling out your phone and shoving it into Cas’ hands. “I’ll get the frozen and produce, you get the rest, and I’ll meet you at check-out.”

You’re being a bitch. Guilt twists in your gut and crawls over your skin, because Cas was just trying to help and you’re being a bitch, but your skull feels like it’s teetering on your spine and the smallest nudge will make everything topple. Something is so very wrong but no one else can see it. Cas had been the check, the only person you had on call who would’ve been able to tell you that you weren’t just going mad, but nothing was abnormally wrong.

Everything is stuck on a scratchy, slightly shifting repeat, but nothing’s wrong. 

You vomit when you return to the bunker, and Cas puts everything away. Dean is in the library, but he gets up the moment you enter this time, clapping his hands and grinning like a child about the pie he already knows is in the kitchen. He returns with a plate, drops back in his chair, and both of you pretend to read. Sam comes in after three hours, then leaves. You joke about hurting Sam’s ego, and nothing feels like you’re doing it. It’s like you’re a puppet.

Dean mentions the Suit from the City, and you still don’t understand the switch that seems to flip inside of him, and he storms out. 

You try to busy yourself. You find your sheets and make your bed, you find Cas and apologize for being, tense, but he doesn’t seem that bothered.

He brings up your feelings for Dean again.

You manage to escape the conversation when Dean calls you right on time, slurring and drunk and not safe to drive.

Cas volunteers to go get him.

You go yourself instead.

Dean shouts your name, a wide, boyish grin on his face the moment his eyes land on yours.

“This is-“ He burps, slinging his arms over your shoulders and pulling you right into his side, speaking to no one but the air and inanimate bar. “She’s the one. You’re- Shit, you’re so fuckin’-“

“Pretty.” You give the bartender an apologetic look, letting Dean keep himself upright as you pull out your wallet. “How much does he owe you?”

Dean hums in your ear, his fingers running through your hair as you settle his tab. “More than pretty, baby- I gotta- needed to tell you something-“

“I know, Dean.” You sigh, wrapping your arm around his waist and guiding him to the door. “C’mon, let’s go home-“

“Already home,” he mutters, burying his face in your shoulder. “Got you. Need you. That was- son of a bitch, is the room spinning for you too?“

“No, it’s not.”

“Then why’s is doin’ that.”

He sounds like he’s whining, and you have to bite back the smile on your lips. “It’s because you’re drunk, buddy.”

You can feel his frown on your skin, his body tenses around yours. “Not your buddy- needed to- Can’t just be your buddy-“

He shoves himself up suddenly, and you to try and steady him back against you on pure instinct.

“Dean-“

You’re cut off as his mouth slams into yours, and the whole world turns to only color and the smell and taste of whiskey, and Dean. This isn’t a reputation. This is real, and new, and amazing. His lips are chapped, but they fit so well against yours. He’s walking you back to pin you against the bar wall, and his body is so warm and sturdy, and he’s drunk out of him mind but you know he’d never let anything hurt you. That you’re safe here, being kissed stupid and weak-kneed, and he might regret this in the morning, but when he pulls back from a ragged breath, all you can see is adoration and affection in his eyes. 

“Love you.” He mutters, and it’s the most sober you’ve ever heard him. “So- Fuckin’ hell, I love you so much-“

The fade is starting. Dean’s blurring, but he can’t go yet. 

You yank him back down with a half-whine, he smirks against your lips as the kiss turns open and sloppy and needing, and there it goes. 

The light switches off, and everything turns to black.

The last thing to vanish is the feeling of Dean’s lips, pressed to yours, and the feeling of his groan down your throat. 

———

You’ve been here before.

You don’t wait for Dean’s shout this time before you’re out of bed. You march down the hall, and enter the kitchen right as Dean roars and the pan falls to the ground.

“Hey, you’re-“

“There’s cereal in the cabinet.” You snap. It’s harsher than Dean deserves, but you’re losing your fucking mind and you’ve been here before. “And that’s second degree, Dean. You need to ice it.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-“

“Shut up.” You point to the freezer. “Ice.”

Dean just stares at you. “You feeling okay? You’re- you seem a bit, I dunno, touchy-“

“Ice, Winchester, now.”

You stomp past him to get the mop, and he catches your wrist. 

“Look,” he says your name carefully, and you can see the concern painted over his every feature as he holds your gaze. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything, even if it’s really dumb?”

You swallow, your heart turns to the tight stone hours ahead of schedule.

“Yeah.” You whisper, your voice softer. Weaker. “I know.”

You run a hand through your hair, and sigh. You clean up and Dean eats his marshmallows. It’s all going to be pointless routine until Sam gets back anyway, so you drop next to Dean and eat your apple, and prepare yourself for the spark through a raw wound when Dean places his hand on your thigh. 

“You’re an angel, sweetheart, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Weak smile from you. Deep long breath from Dean.

And something is different on his face this time. More determined.

“I mean it. You’re- I mean-“ He squeezes his hand on your thigh, and looks at you like you’re something priceless. Like you’re going to vanish out of his hold if he’s not careful. 

He doesn’t know just how right he his, and the stone triples in weight.

“Are you-“

“I’m good, I just gotta do this now. Before I-“ He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Needs to be now. Just- I- Shit-“

You know where this is going. It has to be a joke. You don’t want to dread it in the way you’re starting to feel over your bones. “Dean, you don’t have to-“

“I love you.” He blurts, staring at you with a wide, almost frightened expression. “You- don’t say anything, just- I fucking love you, and this never happened, but I needed to say it. And I mean it. So- Just- Yeah. Done.”

Dean looks back to his cereal, his face red and body tensed, and you can’t breathe. You can’t speak. It’s all going too fast, and there’s the light, but you weren’t ready and you can’t go, not yet-

Everything fades to black.

———

You’ve been-

No time.

You scream at Dean to ice his burn as you sprint past the kitchen, and a clatter follows seconds later. You don’t stick around to find out if he listened. 

You fly out of the bunker doors and start running. 

Dean was right. This is fucking hell. You don’t know how Sam does it all the time, but you don’t care because he does it, and it’s a million degrees outside but Sam has to be here somewhere, how can you possibly be missing him, he’s a million fucking feet tall-

Someone shouts your name, and you turn on your heels to see Sam jogging towards you, a deep frown on his face.

“Are you-“

“I’m not- Fuck.” You double over, clutching your stomach through ragged breaths. “Just- gimme a second-“

“What’s wrong?” Sam moves to keep your steady, his brow set in worry as he scans over you. “You’re not hurt, is Dean-“

“Dean’s fine.” You wheeze, shaking your head. “Sam- I- We need to talk. Now.”

End Note: Need a reverse limitless drug to slow down my brain. Enjoy the series!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist (If you'd like to be added, please fill out this form!)

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224 @sthefferrete

@lyarr24 @deansbby @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28

@lordofthunderthr @youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco

@ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67 @rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde

@heyimoliviaa @itsdearapril @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice

@foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch @ilovedeanwinchester @4sleepykittycx

@immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101 @chi-raz @lori19

@wynnthewynnder @fultiana-kh @woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber

@salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey @and-i-wish @jsudsgf @deans-yn

@jofinka @allthetroubleiveseen @dyhsversion @pillowjj

@laurakirsten0502

[saturnneedsspace]

After Cas confesses his love, but before he pushes Dean away, he pulls something out from his trench coat and slips it into Dean's pocket. Cas pushes him down and gets taken by the Empty, followed by Billie, leaving Dean alone on the bunker floor. As he cries, he feels something push into his chest, so he reaches his hand into his flannel pocket and pulls out the mixtape. The one he had given Cas as a gift and a secret sort of love confession of his own, thinking Cas wouldn't understand it. But as he stared down at the tape over top that read 'Dean's top 13 Zeppelin traxx', he knew that Cas understood. And he feels his heart break even more. Cas knew. Cas knew how he felt, yet he never said anything until it was too late. They were both too stupid to understand and just tell each other.

As Dean held the mixtape firmly in his hands, shoulders shaking with his sobs, he noticed that something felt off about it. The texture was different. He would know. He had flipped the cassette over and over and over in his hands before giving it to Cas, trying to decide on what to say to the angel.

Dean used his sleeve to wipe the blurriness from his eyes so he could see what was wrong with it. It still took a few seconds to adjust, and when he saw the large crack down the center of the tape, he gasped and brought it closer to his face. More tears spilled down his face. Cas' last move was to give this back to him, to show him that he understood their love and reassured Dean that, though he never said it, he knew how much he had meant to him. And Dean had broken it. The last thing Cas had ever given him besides the bloody handprint forever imprinted on his coat.

But as Dean's hands held on, finergrtips rubbing over the surface again and again, desperate to feel some kind of comfort in his hopeless situation, he noticed something attached to the back of it. He sniffled, wiped his eyes again, and flipped it over. On the backside, there was a piece of paper taped there with his name written on it. He quickly ripped it off, causing the cassette to re-split in half, obvious that the piece of tape being all that held it together, and opened the note.

Hello, Dean.

I just wanted to write you this before I give back your tape and apologize for breaking it. I'm really really sorry. I know I'm not super good at apologies, but writing makes it a lot easier, so I'm writing it for you. I hope you'll forgive me. I didn't mean to break it. I know you spent a lot of time picking the songs specifically for me because you knew I'd like them, though I had trouble understanding some of the parts. I'll never understand why humans love music so much. It's so much noise and there's so much going on, but I know it's important to you, so I will learn to like it. I'm very sorry for breaking it. I don't ever take it out of my trench coat, just in case I need to listen to it during an emergency, and I fell onto it. :( Please forgive me, Dean. I'm very sorry.

As Dean read, he watched tear drops stain the paper. He laughed a little as he continued to cry, noting how the letter was the most characteristic Cas letter he could think of. And he was happy. So happy that he didn't break it himself. It was already broken.

Cas knew how much the weight of handing over a mixtape was, especially a Zeppelin one for Dean, and he acknowledged it. Dean squeezed the letter to his chest as he leaned back against the wall and continued to cry silently.

[aroselaine]

Puppy Love Pt. 2

Jack Kline x fem! OC

-originally on ao3-

Summary: Addie is called to the bunker to teach Jack what it means to be human. Hesitantly agreeing, she quickly realizes she’s in way over her head.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 (You Are Here)

“Bacon!” Dean yelled, knocking on her door. Groaning, she pulled the pillow over her head. Unfortunately, yesterday hadn’t been a dream.

“Come on, kid, rise and shine!” he called from behind the door.

“All right, all right!” Addie called back, sitting up and looking at the clock. It read 9:30, and she sighed. Maybe one day she would be able to sleep in.

After showering and quickly getting ready, she walked out of her room and made her way to the kitchen, finding Sam sitting alone with his laptop.

“Good morning,” Addie called out, getting his attention.

Sam turned around. “Hey, want some coffee?” he asked.

“Please.” She sat down as he got up from the table.

“Where’s Dean? He promised bacon,” Addie asked.

Sam scoffed, “He and Cas headed out this morning. We think there's a case in Topeka—a couple of suspicious animal deaths. Maybe a werewolf.”

Addie hummed in response. Sam finished pouring the coffee and set a cup in front of her before joining her at the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as she took a sip.

“I’m fine, just surprised, that’s all. I’ve heard of nephilim, but never one fathered by an archangel.” Addie paused in thought. “Who’s his father, Sam?”

Sam only looked at her.

Addie went through the list: Raphael – Dead, Uriel – Dead, Gabriel – Dead, Michael – Cage, Lucifer – …

“Jesus, Sam, you didn’t think to mention his father is Lucifer?” Addie exclaimed.

“It’s not like that, Addie. He’s not his father. He’s not evil. Just talk to him,” Sam pleaded. “Please.”

Addie sat back in her chair, nursing her coffee. Dean was right not to tell her over the phone because if she had known what she’d be walking into, she would have told them to get lost. However, after seeing Jack and hearing what Sam had to say, Addie knew she couldn’t just leave.

Putting her cup down, Addie spoke, “I’ll talk to him. But Sam, if he—” she paused, “if you’re wrong, I’m gone.”

Sam nodded in response, letting out a sigh of relief.

She sipped her coffee in silence while Sam clicked away on his laptop. When she was done, she put her cup in the sink and went off in the bunker to find the nephilim. No time like the present, she thought as she turned the corner to the hallway of bedrooms.

Addie contemplated knocking on each door when the one furthest on the left opened, and Jack stepped out, walking towards her.

“I heard you coming down the hall,” he spoke rhythmically. “Castiel said you would visit me.”

“Did he now?” she asked, mentally adding cursing Cas to her to-do list. Of course, he would assume she’d say yes.

“Yes.” He nodded, looking confused.

Addie stepped closer. “Can I see your room?” she asked, looking up at him, his blue eyes staring back at her.

“Yes,” he repeated, turning around and walking back to his room.

Addie followed him, looking around as they entered his room. It was fairly empty, with only a few books on his desk and a laptop on the dresser. Jack stood by his bed, watching her as she surveyed the space, seemingly waiting for her input.

Addie said nothing and sat down on the edge of his bed, prompting Jack to sit next to her, his eyes never leaving her.

“How are you doing, Jack?” she asked, now looking at him.

He tilted his head, looking confused. “I don’t understand.”

Addie sighed. “I mean, it was a lot for me to learn that monsters were real, that God and angels were real.” She paused. “That you were real. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”

“It was hard,” he admitted, looking down at his lap. “I taught myself what I could, but they don’t really like questions. They get mad at me and—” he paused, looking at Addie.

“What is it?” Addie asked, her voice soft.

“Dean thinks I’m evil,” Jack said, like he was telling a secret.

“Are you?” she asked.

“I don’t want to be,” he replied simply.

Addie sighed, patting his leg before standing up and going over to his desk, scanning the book titles: Werewolves: A Hunter’s Guide, Vampires 1913, Gray’s Anatomy, The Bible, and—

“Pride and Prejudice?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Castiel said it was a classic,” Jack responded.

Addie giggled. “Yeah, I guess he would say that.”

The two fell into silence as Addie realized she had no idea what to say to Jack. Really, what do you say to a powerful ethereal being? As if sensing her discomfort, Jack spoke up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Jack,” Addie responded, watching as he smiled when she said his name.

“How do I work that?” he asked, pointing at the dresser.

Addie followed his finger. “The laptop?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, looking pleased. “That’s what Sam called it.”

“He didn’t show you how to use it?” She frowned.

“No. I guess he thought I would figure it out. It only asks for a password, and I can’t seem to find a book on that.”

Addie sighed, adding cursing Sam Winchester to her growing to-do list. Grabbing the laptop, she went and sat next to him on the bed.

The two spent the next few hours going over the basics of a computer, and when Addie left Jack, he was halfway through the first Star Wars movie.

When she got back to her room, Addie knew her mind was made up. There was no way she could leave. The boy she had spent the afternoon talking to wasn’t evil, and she would do everything in her power to make sure he stayed that way. So if that meant watching every Star Wars movie and answering a hundred questions on pop culture every day, so be it. It certainly beat sleeping in dirty motels and hunting vampires.

[deltaz-but-they-just-call-me-taz]

The first time I listened to My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski my MaDD went "Good danceing song, destiel works with it, heres a scene where they dance and become happy."

So, Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Cas are at a party undercover(it kinda looks like the museum party w/ Bella and ghost ship and granny creepin on Sam)

and for some reason Sams like "you two stay down here, me and Bobby will go upstairs to do the thing." and Deans like "well what are we gonna to just stand here?!" And Bobby's like "course not you gotta play the part and get out there" and Dean does that 'is this fool serious' look and is like "what you want me and Cas to dance like cinderella and prince charming" dean prolly doesnt know what disney is but bobbys like "duh" and drags them out to the dance floor and puts cas's hand on deans shoulder and leaves w/ sam to do the thing and it's really awkward at first but then they get comfrotable and actually start having fun and dean spins cas at one point and cas almost trips but dean catches him and deans embarresed but cas starts giggling and it makes dean laugh and at the end of the song there just looking in eachothers eyes as they slowly stop moving and dean looks like he's about to make a move but sam and booby round the corner and when they see them they just kinda stand there cuz they have to go but they didn't wanna ruin the moment but cas sees them and then he and dean snap out of it and deans walking by ands like "you got it- great lets go" and cas silently follows him trying to hide his disapointment and sam and bobby give eachother this look😒

[q1mblrrd]

In The Eyes of God

Castiel x Dean (Destiel) 💙💚

Word count: 1,988 (low count I’m sorry)

Cas and Dean are forbidden lovers, prince x peasant. PART FIVE (I KNOW ITS LATE IM SORRY)

Part 4 :

Part six:

Warnings: none for this chapter!

Three weeks had passed since their excursion to the city, and nearly every day since that time Castiel had been busy with some kind of royal work that prevented the two from seeing each other. The only thing Dean had to work with was the searing memory of finding the chance to shove the other in a towel closet just a few days ago, but those embers seemed to burn strong in the back of his mind. It kept his mind away from the stinging pain in his hands from working at repairs on the barn roof all day. He had a bad habit of letting his thoughts wander, only to be brought sharply back to the present when the hammer missed the nail in favor of his fingertips, or when his foot slipped on the moisture gathered on the rungs of the ladder and for a moment his heart sank to his stomach. 

He really should be more careful.

This spring had been a particularly humid one, and Dean didn’t mind the humidity so much as he minded the heat. Humidity, he could handle, but the mixture of stifling heat and a sticky fog that seemed to linger everywhere over the kingdom made him more depressed than he would’ve liked to admit. The water in the air reminded him of home back on the coast. On days when there was a breeze he could almost fool himself into thinking maybe it was a salty mist hitting his cheeks. 

As much as he hated his life before this, he found himself missing it more and more each day. He missed the quiet days when he could wander along the coastline, wading ankle-deep in ocean water, catching the occasional fish. His younger brother Sam would be there too, trodding along beside him, carrying a basket far too big for his little hands, rambling about one thing or another he read in a book off Dad’s shelf. He wasn’t supposed to touch them, but Dean never told their Father and their Father was so drunk he usually never knew the difference. It had been a struggle between their Father and Mother, and the constant need for just a bit more money, but Dean always tried his hardest to make Sam’s life a little more enjoyable. He took the swings from a drunken fist when they came, shoving Sam away into a cupboard and telling him not to come out until Dean came and got him.

When Dean was thirteen their Mother fell ill and died soon after, not a week after that and their Father packed a bag and left without ever looking back, leaving Dean to care for his younger brother Sam without a penny in his pocket. Dean had carried what he could on his back, took Sam, and walked them into the nearest city to find a job. Dean worked what he could, gathering his savings, spending only what was necessary, and eventually paying for the fare to send Sam to school. 

The ship went down two days into the voyage, leaving no survivors. Pirates had attacked, and poor Sam had drowned somewhere off the eastern border of the neighboring country, Caspan. Dean had been left with nothing once again, this time true alone. Now sixteen, orphaned, and with no known relatives to take him in, Dean packed his small life up once more and hid in the next carriage heading through town. He didn’t much care where he went, as long as he was away from everything that had hurt him. 

That’s how Dean had ended up in Narran, working as a smuggler for a friend or two until he grew to be too large to get the job done without being seen. Once his body had been built into a statue of muscle and tanned skin he moved to the forest, cutting down trees, lugging them into town, and selling the firewood to businesses all around. Eventually, an opening for a farmhand opened at the castle, and Dean was interested purely by the fact that it meant meals and a roof over his head for two cents higher pay. 

Now twenty-three, stronger, and more determined than ever to leave, he found himself more tied down than ever. He couldn’t leave without Castiel, not now, not after everything they’d built together, but by god he couldn’t stand to stay anymore. Every evening when he made his way back to the small corner of the barn he called his bed he pulled out the tin of savings he kept hidden behind a loose board and counted his change. It was enough for himself, sure, but not nearly enough for two. For safe passage, with someone so valuable as Castiel, he would need to work for another year, maybe two. Even then, no amount of money would guarantee their safety.

Dean was stuck, but still, his heart was determined to make it out. He planned in his free time, inconspicuously walking along the castle walls, seeing which guards looked where finding the weak points and gaps in their shifts where he might sneak out unnoticed. He couldn’t do much surveillance within the castle walls, but whatever he could find, he noted. After these past few weeks, he had managed to hash together a plan that might work, but that might have been the smallest chance he’d ever had for anything in his life. He needed to see Castiel. 

Castiel had been so deep in papers and legal work that he could hardly focus on anything but the lengthy documents that only seemed to pile up on his desk with each passing hour. He barely found the time to eat, much less see Dean aside from their moments in passing when he and his Father walked through the garden. His Father must’ve noticed the amount of time Castiel spent outside, away from his studies, and now he’d decided to redirect the boy to the more “important matters” of his life. Learning to become a diplomat, the proper way of speaking, of walking, the correct way to hold his cup when he drank from it, all the things that Castiel had begun to despise. It was tedious, frustrating work that often left him with red welts across the back of his hands and arms for any wrong answer he gave to his tutors.

He was making plans of his own, gazing out the window and wondering what he would do with his life if he wasn’t cooped up here in his room. He wanted to go into the city again, he wanted to stay there amongst the people. 

Without a knock, his chamber door opened, startling him and making him turn away from the window to see who’d just burst in. It was his Father, standing with his Mother just behind him. 

“Yes, Father?”

Castiel spoke up almost hesitantly, standing from his position perched on the window ledge, straightening out the front of his shirt. He hadn’t done anything wrong, or so he remembered, and he doubted his Father had an assignment for him so late in the evening. It was confusing, and a bit worrying. His Father took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he took another step into the room and shut the door. Mother stepped to the small bench at the foot of Castiel’s bed, took a seat, and placed her hands politely in her lap.

”You’re going off for a bit.” The King said in a quiet but commanding tone, leaving no room for confusion or argument. “You’ve been distracted, and I can’t have your mind anywhere else. Not now. We’re on the cusp of your crowning Castiel.”

Castiel felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“What do you mean? Father I’ve kept up with all my studies, I’ve—“

”That’s enough.” His father cut him off, raising a hand to signal for the other to be quiet. “The decision has already been made. You’ll be going in a week. Pack your things.” 

With that, his Father turned to leave, but Castiel, still shocked to his core, almost jumped forward as he spoke again.

”But Father, where am I even going? I’ll study more, I’ll— I’ll pay more attention in the meetings, I swear to it. Please, I want to stay.”

His Father didn’t listen, ignoring his pleas and walking swiftly out the door almost as quickly as he’d entered. Castiel’s Mother still sat on the bench, watching him with a saddened look. She’d miss him dearly, she was sure, but her husband had decided this was best for their boy. Castiel turned to her, giving her a look of confusion and hurt.

”You’re just going to let him send me away?”

She sighed, tearing her gaze away and slowly standing.

”It’s for the best dear, besides, your Father’s right. Your mind isn’t here with us anymore. You just need some readjustments, that’s all. You’ll be back to normal and you can come home before you even know you left!”

Castiel scoffed, pulling his shoulder away when she tried to place a hand on it. He was angry, rightfully so, fleeing his room before she could say another word to him. He ran through the halls, bumping into the occasional servant carrying armfuls of supplies, mumbling quick apologies to them and shoving his tears back down. He needed to tell Dean. He needed to see Dean.

Castiel burst through the barn doors, startling Dean, who quickly perked his head up at the new introduction. “What’s happened?” Dean asked after a moment, pushing himself up and growing concerned as Castiel began to breathe shakily before a soft sob left his lips and a tear or two streaked down his cheek. 

“He’s sending me off,” Castiel choked out, putting his hands on his knees and nearly collapsing over. “My Father, he’s sending me off, he hasn’t told me where.” 

Dean stood now, carefully stepping over to Castiel and setting a hand on his shoulder, letting the other stand just enough to fall into his arms and cry into his shoulder. Dean held him fast, turning a nose into his hair, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet scent Castiel seemed to have. 

“No,” Dean said quietly, but there was a certain form of determination in his voice that made Castiel believe he wouldn't let it happen. Dean held him a bit tighter, placing his hand on the back of Castiel’s head. “We’re going to get out. You and I, together. I won’t let them take someone else away from me.”

”But…” Castiel sniffed and pulled back just slightly, meeting the other’s eye. “How? I’ve been thinking about it too, but we just couldn’t… sneak away. We’d be caught. They’d hurt you.”

”No, we won’t be caught. I’ve made a plan, I can be ready in two days.” 

Dean responded quickly, maybe overestimating just how well he thought he could execute this plan, but Castiel was going away in a week and there wasn’t any guarantee when he would be back. It had been nearly two years since they’d first met, plenty of small scares had come and gone, but now was their chance. They’d finally get to live the life they wanted. 

“Are you sure?” 

Dean hesitated. Was he sure? Truthfully, no, he wasn’t sure he was sure something would go wrong. There was a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach, but seeing tears in the corners of Castiel’s eyes tore away any semblance of giving up. He had to get out, and he had to take Castiel with him. He brought his hand to Castiel’s cheek, rubbing his thumb below his eye and wiping away the wet tears. 

“I’m sure.”

Dean sealed his promise with a soft kiss before pulling Castiel into a strong hug again. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his younger brother, but he refused to lose his lover.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean’s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago stood awkwardly, waiting for you to fully wake up.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-six?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-five?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

[lvvrmel]

CORRUPTION .ᐟ

DEAN WINCHESTER X ANGEL!READER

PAIRING: Human!Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader.

CONTENT WARNING: corruption, innocent!reader, slightly sleazy! dean, gn! reader, nsfw, smut, oral (dean receiving), mdni, 18+

SUMMARY: dean cant stop himself from corrupting your angel-like innocence.

>> word-count — 1.2k .ᐟ

.ᐟ not proofread .ᐟ

Dean had first met you through Castiel, both of you being angels who knew each other from Heaven. You had been tagging along with the Winchester brothers for an indefinite amount of time, occasionally dropping by to visit and help them out a bit.

Dean didn’t really care for you too much at first, although you eventually grew on him. Maybe a bit too much.

Your constant innocence and naivety was adorable in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to be the one to take that from you. Could you really blame him though? When you bat your eyelashes at him like that, what do you expect from him? He’s a simple guy, of course he’s gonna be attracted to a cute little thing like you.

Sam found Dean’s attraction to you fairly obvious; with his constant staring — not just your chest and backside but your wide eyes and glossy lips too, his never-ending flirting and teasing he continuously aimed towards you. Although, unlike Sam, you did not catch on to Dean’s relentless innuendos, no matter how often he said them and no matter how suggestive he made them. You were just too much of a pure and innocent angel.

Dean really looked forward to the times you’d randomly decide to drop by unannounced. But this time? When you’ve dropped by when he’s all alone? Dream come true for him. Getting you alone plays a huge part in his fantasies.

Dean and Sam had found a motel to stay at during a hunt, both of them in separate rooms that are just next door to each other, and Dean did not expect to get back from the bar and see you sat there on the centre of the bed. It was a nice surprise though.

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you randomly visiting, shutting the door behind him while he keeps his gaze on you with that smug look on his face, running his hand through his hair as he makes his way over to you, speaking in his usual gruff tone. “Hiya, Sweetheart. What’re you doing here? Decided to drop by?”

Dean watches as you nod your head and smile slightly at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a small grunt. “Missed you, yknow, darlin’. Should come visit more. I’d love to see your pretty face more often.” He smirked, reaching over to gently pat your thigh with his hand.

Dean watches as you smile a little more at him, probably appreciating that he missed you and thinks your face is pretty, which only made him think of you as even more adorable. “You’re a cute thing, sweetheart, yknow that? Caught anyones eyes yet?” He sure hopes not. Dean wants to be the first one to touch you, take that innocence from you that he loves so much.

Contentment washes over him when he sees that shake of your head in response, the smirk on his lips widening slightly. “Oh yeah? No angels fallen in love with you? You ever been with a guy before?” Which you responded with another shake of your head and a small “No.” in that soft, sweet voice of yours.

“Never? Oh, darling, that’s adorable. Not even had a quick peck on the cheek?” Dean very clearly loved how innocent you are, how you’re too precious for your own good. Each visit you make to Earth, the more captivated he finds himself.

“Want me to show you what it’s like?” Dean leans forward slightly, the two of you now very close as he watches you consider his offer for a moment, grinning slightly more at your small nod, enjoying the fact your curious to what a kiss feels like.

Dean wasted no time when he saw you agree to his offer of showing you what it’s like to kiss someone, moving closer to you on the motel bed as his hand goes to rest against your cheek, gently pulling you towards him while he leans in, starting off with a chaste, innocent kiss against your lips before deepening the kiss more, his lips pressed against yours as his thumb gently rubs against your inner thigh.

He continues to kiss you as his tongue slips past your lips, reluctantly pulling away after a while once he decides he wants a little more than just making out.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’wanna go even further than kissing?” He suggests in a low, gruff voice, moving a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your hair as you hesitantly nod your head a bit after thinking about his suggestion.

With that, Dean gently guides you onto the floor, propped up on both of your knees as he sits on the edge of his bed, his hands hastily unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, freeing his hard-on from his boxers.

Deans hand loosely pumps himself up and down a bit as a little precum leaks from his tip, eventually resting his hand on the back of your head and guiding you to his cock, quietly instructing you to open your mouth before placing his tip on your tongue, his hand on the back of your head slowly moving your head forward to help you take his whole length, those cute noises you make when his tip prods at the back of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock makes his head roll back, groaning while directing your head back and forth, gradually getting quicker the more he gets closer to cumming.

Dean pants heavily as he slowly starts to thrust his hips, his cock going deeper into your throat at a faster pace than before, letting out a low grunt every now and then as he feels himself getting closer.

When he finally lowers his head to look at you, it does nothing but speed up the nearing climax. Your head relentlessly bobbing back and forth, your eyes ever so slightly tearing up at each inch you take down your throat, he can’t help but grind his hips even quicker at the arousing sight.

Dean can’t take anymore, the view he has of you throating his dick, the sounds you make each time it reaches the very back of your throat, and the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, all just becomes too much for him, cum eventually oozing out, landing on your tongue and some of your face from Dean pulling out, his hand pumping his dick a few times while cum continues to land on your lips and chin, watching your eyes close tightly in reaction to the sudden sticky nut that’s now all over your face.

Dean breathes heavily at the sensation of finishing, watching you try to spit his seed out, probably not liking it from how new it all is to you. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before reaching over to the nightstand beside the bed, taking a few tissues from the tissue box that was sitting there, using it to wipe away the cum that had planted on your face.

“God, you’re a natural, sweetheart…” Dean pants out after finishing with wiping the stickiness off your face, leaning down and leaving a soft kiss to your forehead. He was definitely going to be doing that with you again. It was just too good not to happen again. And hopefully he might be able to eventually go further than just a blowjob with you.

[ultravi0lence14]

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

dean winchester x angel!reader

12k | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, spn level violence, eventual smut, szn nine

summary: the angel’s have fell, and castiel finds himself running into the little angel he had mentored and kept under his (literal) wing for millennia. when you ask for help, castiel sends you to the winchester brothers as he attempts to adapt himself. with angel now living in the bunker, what happens when the line between love and hate becomes blurred?

ANGEL AND DEAN’S PLAYLIST

ANGEL’S PINTEREST BOARD

when angel falls

welcome to the bunker

sweet angel

change of heart

when angel falls (in love)

promises (18+)

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @haunteres @ostaramoon @starzify @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus0queenie33 @vaiieydoii @bitchykittenconnoisseur @galacticalllcafffeine @jasvtsc @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @angel-inspiredblog @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys @chxrrybobaby-sin @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @hoyoooo @misatxox @mimiimmii

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE APART OF ANGEL AND DEAN’S TAGLIST

[sofreddie]

Line in the Sand

Summary: When Sam and Reader meet, he lays down a line, letting her know nothing would ever happen between them despite the deep connection that was felt. It doesn't take long for him to regret that decision.

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

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Fluff, Hunting, Injury to Reader, Smut (Unprotected Sex)

WC: 6,809

A/N: Hey, all! I know it's been a million years since I've been posting. Life, ya know? Anywho, here's a fic I've been gradually working on for longer than I remember. It was supposed to be a little fic and grew into this (sorry, I'm so wordy). I'm really happy with how it came out in the end. Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. : )

Sam gently laid Y/N in bed, tucking the sheets around her. She was spelled, her body immobile and looking as if she were merely asleep. Sam knew better, knew that she had been close to death's door.

Dean leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching Sam lean down to kiss her forehead. Then, he shifted his gaze away, feeling that the moment was too private to be witnessed.

Sam took one last look at Y/N before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him. It seemed silly, but it helped him deal with it if he had imagined she was only sleeping.

“She’ll be okay,” Dean reassured his brother as they walked down the hall to the kitchen, “We killed the bitch and gave her the antidote. Should just take a few hours for the spell to wear off.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Sam growled, and Dean nodded in agreement, “She could have died!”

“She didn’t.”

The brothers stared at each other in silence, Dean calm, and Sam still too riled from the hunt and nearly losing her. Sam loved Y/N deeply and with all he had, and he knew she felt the same. Even if they never said it, they knew. But they both had reasons for not pursuing anything beyond their cherished friendship. Sam couldn’t help but feel the distance between them, and even her injury was, his fault.

Yes, there would always be the threat of their enemies pulling them apart. Yes, there would always be the threat of death hanging over them. And yes, falling in love again after losing so much and so many people was a debilitating concept. But after nearly losing her, Sam wasn’t sure any of those reasons mattered anymore.

They’re lucky they had the cure after saving another victim in the case. Otherwise…Sam ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head as he thought again about nearly losing her.

“You should be there when she wakes up,” Dean offered, grabbing a couple of beers to return to his room for the night.

He knew Sam would eventually find his way to Y/N’s side. He hoped that if he had just put it out there, Sam would have skipped the pretense and brooding before inevitably finding himself at her side anyway.

Sam nodded, clutching the unopened beer bottle as he went down the Bunker hallway and to her room again. He was restless, eager for her to open her eyes and smile at him again. Until that happened, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He quietly entered her room, hoping she’d be awake, but his heart sank seeing her exactly as he left her. He closed the door quietly behind him. Walking over to the desk, he pulled out the wooden chair and turned it around to face Y/N. He set the beer aside, not thirsty anyway, and cradled his head in his hands.

–

“I can’t believe it’s you!”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes as he and Dean left the abandoned house. The new hunter they’d met, Y/N, was as green as they come, trying to take on a haunting by herself. She’s lucky they showed up when they did, or else her first hunt might have been her last.

“I’ve heard so much about you from other hunters,” Y/N rattled on, tripping over aged debris as they exited the now ghost-free domicile. “I’m such a fan-” she continued, but Sam wasn’t listening.

He spun on her in a flash, his face showing his apparent ire and dislike of her, “You nearly got yourself killed in there. What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N jumped in shock, her eyes flashing between the brothers as she tried to come up with a response, “Well, my family hunted for years, and I helped with research, but after they were gone, it was kind of my responsibility to take over, right?” she asked with a lopsided grin and shrug.

“It’s not unheard of,” Dean chimed in with a tight smile. Sam flashed him a bitchface, to which Dean raised his hands in defense and shut the hell up.

“You’re like, my heroes,” she added with a chipper demeanor.

Sam scowled harder as he saw the stars in her eyes and how she seemed to want to reach out and touch him. He could feel it, too, if he were being honest. A pull to her, a need to want to know her and keep her safe. She was beautiful and shapely, and unlike any other woman he knew. If they had met a few years before he’d become so angry and cynical, there might have been a chance. But the way his life was now and the way her happy eagerness grated on his nerves, it was best he shut that down from the start, for both their sakes.

He scoffed, taking a cocky and stern stance as he shook his head and lowered his voice, “It’s NEVER gonna happen, you hear me?”

Sam knew and could feel this odd connection between them. It seemed to pulse with a faint life all its own, and it was unnerving. He could see in her eyes the admiration and attraction she bore for him. Though it made him want, he rejected her.

Y/N hesitated only a moment, but it was long enough for her to crack, for the pain of his statement to be seen. She quickly recovered, the smile and upbeat attitude back in place in the blink of an eye, almost making Sam think he’d imagined it.

“Okay, Sam,” she grinned, waving farewell as she backed away to her car.

Sam’s heart sank as he watched her go; he was sad to see her leave and mad at himself for doing that in the first place. He chose to ignore Dean’s stern glare and unapproving stance. Dean let it go with a sigh, knowing it would come up again at some point.

–

Sam groaned, running a hand down his face at the memory of when they met. He couldn't stand himself and what he did to her, trying to push her away, even if it was for their own good. Now, however, his eyes landing on her still and quiet body in her bed, he regretted everything. She was his, and he was hers; their souls connected on a deeper level from the moment their eyes met.

He came so close to losing her and would never have been able to tell her the truth.

He sighed again, trying to stay calm while waiting for her to wake. He knew she would wake, but he was still nervous that maybe this was it, and she was lost to him. He only had himself to blame for his misery. 

Unbidden, his mind drifted back to the beginning, and he remembered how she became so engrained in their lives despite his attempts at distance.

-

"Fancy meeting you here," Y/N greeted as she walked out of the Sheriff's office, greeting the Winchesters as they arrived in the parking lot. She straightened her blazer, self-conscious and uncomfortable, but more than looking the part of the FBI for the case.

Sam scoffed, "Are you following us?"

Y/N glared back at him. "Looks like I was here first. Are you following me?"

"Cut the shit," Sam growled. "Every other case we go to, we run into you."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You're not the only hunters in the world, and you're certainly not the only ones with obligations and family ties to fulfill," she growled back. 

Dean couldn't stand the tension that seemed to grow between Y/N and his brother every time they saw each other. He liked Y/N. She was new but eager and had some skills and knowledge. With some training and guidance, she had great potential. 

"Why don't we work this one together?" Dean insisted, ignoring his brother's scowl as Y/N lit up. 

"Really?" she practically squealed in delight before giving Dean her motel and room number. 

He intended to follow her there, and they could discuss and work the case together. He was concerned about her hunting alone and hoped he could sort through whatever was going on with his brother regarding Y/N. 

-

The first hunt they worked together and the first grave injury she'd received. They had done research, but Sam had missed some key details. He was too focused on Y/N - her voice, body, giddiness, and eagerness to prove herself. And he was angry that she could have that effect on him and couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried.

So when they went to the cabin in the woods to take out two werewolves - which Y/N was extremely nervous about - Sam missed the details that would have told him there were twice as many.

Y/N groaned and shifted before settling back into silent stillness. The hem of her shirt rid up, showing a sliver of skin along her stomach. Sam could just make out the shimmering silvery scars she was left with after nearly dying on the first case they all worked together.

Sam again blamed himself. She was associated with them, somehow connected to him, and the universe cursed him to lose anyone he grew close to. It only further settled his resolve to avoid her entirely. He planned to help her heal and then part ways, never to meet again at any cost. He was convinced it was the only way to keep her safe.

However, Dean, being Dean, thwarted Sam's plans entirely when he invited Y/N to stay at the Bunker with them while she healed. Sam had argued with Dean, insisting that once she was healed, she should leave.

But Dean had convinced him otherwise. Dean wanted to train, guide, and keep an eye on her. Dean explained that she would hunt regardless, so it would be better if they taught her and helped her out instead of leaving her to hunt alone. That thought made Sam sick to his stomach.

She'd been with them ever since.

Y/N stirred in her sleep again, the spell gradually wearing off a little at a time as she metabolized the cure. Sam breathed shakily, wondering if she'd even want to see him when she came to. He tried to keep her off this hunt. She had never hunted witches before, and Sam tried explaining just how awful they could be, but she wouldn't be deterred. They had argued, but in the end, it didn't matter because she went on the hunt, and despite his best efforts, Sam couldn't protect her in time from the witch.

He should get Dean to be here when she woke. They had a much easier relationship. Dean and Y/N quickly became good friends, having so much in common and getting along better than Sam had ever seen Dean with anyone. Since she came into their lives, Dean has always been smiling and laughing, and she has improved their lives positively. Dean took her under his wing like a sister, but Sam didn't always see it that way.

-

Sam grit his teeth, emptying the contents of his crystal glass and refilling it with the amber liquid and a heavy hand. He took a healthy sip and leaned back in his chair at the map table. Dean and Y/N sat across from him, drinking, chatting, and laughing like they had been most of the night. Sam wasn't even sure they remembered he was there. 

Y/N tapped out first, dismissing herself to bed. Sam barely grunted a response as she left, Dean bidding her goodnight, his eyes glued to her as she went. Once she disappeared, Dean dropped his head with a smile and chuckled. Sam couldn't stop glaring at his brother, and he couldn't stop the scoff he huffed.

"What's your deal?" Dean scoffed back, sipping at his glass. "You've been broody all night."

"Are you and Y/N a thing?" Sam asked, his glare steady as Dean's eyes widened. "You're always together and so friendly," Sam seethed accusingly.

He wasn't expecting Dean's uproarious laughter, which confused and angered him further.

"Holy shit," Dean laughed as he caught his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "She's my friend, like a sister to me. We aren't a thing," Dean insisted with an amused grin. "Is that why you've been bitchy all night?" he continued to chuckle.

Sam glared, not amused. Dean finally let out a long breath, the laughter fading as he realized how bad Sam had gotten over Y/N.

"Sam, I know how it is between you two," Dean tried explaining. "I wouldn't knowingly take her away from you."

"She's not mine," Sam said, though the lie was blatant even to him.

"I think you're starting to regret that line in the sand," Dean shook his head, rising from the table before heading to his room. 

Sam knew his brother was right. He regretted the walls and distance he'd placed between Y/N and himself and was beginning to feel differently about the whole thing.

-

Sam rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remove the sleep from his eyes and mind. He stood from the chair only to turn it back around. He slumped and leaned back, his legs spread wide, reaching for the beer he hadn’t been interested in earlier. Taking a long swig, he relaxed in the chair, eyes focused on Y/N.

After that night, he tried to talk to Y/N, make a move, and remove the line between them. Based on how she acted when they met and how she was in general, he thought she would have jumped at the opportunity. Instead, she surprised him by rejecting his advances. Confused and hurt, Sam tried explaining that whatever reasons he had before weren't reasons anymore.

"I still have my reasons, Sam," she answered as she turned away from him.

Her rejection deeply hurt Sam, but he didn't blame her. He hadn't exactly been warm and welcoming to the idea of her or them. He figured she needed some time to come to terms with the fact that he did actually want something between them. He was also desperate to know her reasons, and then maybe he could do something about it.

Dean wouldn't tell him anything other than to try and take things slow and start small. Sam was more than frustrated with Dean's apparent lack of knowledge - he knew his brother was hiding something with how close they were - but he respected that Dean wouldn't betray her trust. So, Sam tried to start small and slow, but Y/N didn't seem interested in anything to do with him other than hunting.

Things between all three of them grew unbearably awkward.

Dean constantly felt torn between his brother and Y/N. He could never spend time with them together because the tension was so thick it choked the air. He didn't understand their connection, but he knew there was something, and he was frustrated with their denying and avoiding it. He wanted them together and happy, and the way they constantly stole glances and lingering looks when the other wasn't paying attention told him how much they wanted it, too. But he didn't know what to do that wouldn't upset or betray either of their trust in him.

But Sam did notice all the glances and looks. He knew Dean was aware but didn't care. Sam could see that Y/N looked at him often when she thought he wouldn't notice. Sometimes, she looked at him with stars in her eyes, sometimes with a heat so palpable that he felt its caress burn across his skin. Sam could tell that she was thinking about it. About what he said, about him, about them. Yet, she continued to deny them the chance.

Y/N's rejection began to affect him soul-deep in a way that concerned him enough to conduct research. After many hours and tons of books, he discovered the answer - they were soulmates. Of course, he ran to tell Dean to have someone to talk to about it. Dean insisted Sam should tell Y/N and finally face what it was between them. But Sam wasn't ready to tell her, and Dean was gravely disappointed.

Then came the hunt.

Sam groaned, slumping further into the chair and letting his head rest on the back, the now empty beer bottle resting atop his thigh. Why did he have to be such an asshole? He wasn't always so angry, suspicious, and cynical. There was a time - most of his life, actually - when he dreamed of something like this. A deep connection, a love that could survive his life. After nearly losing her, he had to tell her and attempt to convince her that they could try.

-

"Hey guys, I think I found a hunt."

Y/N announced as she practically bounced into the war room towards the brothers. She handed over her tablet with a big grin, watching as Sam and Dean crowded into each other to read the tablet screen.

"I think you're right," Dean agreed, handing the tablet back to her. 

"Looks like a witch, most likely," Sam huffed.

"A witch?" Y/N asked, her eyes widening. "Never hunted those before," she mumbled as she fidgeted with the device.

"First time for everything," Dean grinned.

"She should stay here," Sam argued, wanting to protect her. "You know how bad witches are."

"She's gotta learn sooner or later," Dean shrugged.

Y/N glared at Sam and huffed as she stomped away, presumably to pack for the hunt. Sam tugged at his hair in frustration. 

"You're not helping anything by trying to bench her, Sam," Dean argued in her defense.

"She could get hurt. She could die, Dean!" Sam roared. "I'm just trying to protect her."

"Then look out for her on the hunt, have her back, and don't make her doubt herself."

She was great on the hunt. Dean beamed with pride as she recited her knowledge of witches and the defense tactics to use against them. She quickly made suggestions, found connections, and helped make everything go smoothly. But Sam could not help but brood once more, worried about her and the bond and her not reciprocating. 

It didn't help that she and Dean were so damn close, Dean praising and encouraging her, making her laugh and smile and beam with joy. It made Sam sick, the jealousy of not having that with her burning through him. He seethed over not being allowed even to be friendly with her as Dean was, let alone what they were supposed to have together.

It distracted him and angered him, and he knew he was being a dick, but he couldn't stop, couldn't help any of it. 

On the hunt, she was nervous but sharp and ready. Cornering the witch in her home went according to plan until she managed to get the three of them separated around her. She attacked Dean first, sending him crashing to the ground. Seeing his brother fall, Sam lunged forward, ready to shoot the witch, but she flung a hand that sent him flying into the wall, his gun clattering from his hold. 

"Sam!" Y/N screamed, worried as she watched Sam and Dean crumpled to the ground. She raised her gun, ready to shoot, but hesitated a moment too long.

The witch launched a blue powder at her - the same that they had found on the victims - before a shot rang out. Dean was lying on his side on the floor, gun perched in his hands, smoke rising from the barrel. The witch fell to the floor in a heap, the bullet hole in her forehead sizzling. 

Sam and Dean rose to their feet just as Y/N fell unconscious to the floor. They both rushed to her, Dean taking her in his arms and checking her pulse and breath while Sam buzzed with worried energy.

"We have the antidote, right?" Dean spoke as he lifted Y/N into his arms and carried her to the car. Sam followed like a worried puppy. He could only nod as Dean lay Y/N in the backseat, rushing to the Bunker to administer the antidote.

-

Sam groaned as his head lolled to the side, revealing an uncomfortable kink in his neck. He hadn't meant to doze off. He discarded the empty beer bottle, which he was surprised was still in his hand. Sitting forward, he groaned again as he rolled his neck to stretch out the muscles and rub the sleep from his face. He froze, however, when his eyes landed on Y/N, sitting up against the headboard, her eyes open and on him.

"Y/N." Sam breathed, surprised to see her awake, but the joyful ache in his heart spurred him to action.

Launching from the chair, Sam hurried to sit on the side of the bed, taking Y/N in his arms in a warm hug. "You're awake," he repeated, his breath fanning her hair. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she agreed, patting his back. Sam reluctantly left the hug but held her hand in his, needing the comfort and connection.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, broken.

Before Y/N could respond, her bedroom door opened, revealing a beaming Dean Winchester.

"Well, hey there, Lady," he grinned, coming around the other side of the bed to hug her. "I'm glad to see you're up and well; you had us scared for a minute."

"I messed up, didn't I?" Y/N asked, dropping her gaze to her lap and missing the confused looks of the brothers.

"No, Y/N, you were great," Dean insisted. "Witch dead, no one else got hurt, and you're recovering. Considering how nasty those bitches are, I'd say things went pretty smoothly."

"Hey, Y/N."

She grinned as she looked at Castiel, a real-life Angel she considered a friend, even though they hadn't interacted or seen each other much.

"Can I check you over? Make sure everything's okay?"

Y/N nodded, allowing Cas to place a hand on her forehead. She felt the warmth of his grace as it searched her system, seeking out any damages that needed to be healed. When he pulled away, she felt refreshed, and aches she didn't know she had were suddenly gone.

"The spell's broken," Cas announced. "You'll still need rest, though." He added, smiling when he noticed Sam holding Y/N's hand. "I could sense the connection between you," he continued, grinning as though it were the happiest news he could deliver. "Very rare, very strong," he kept speaking, oblivious to their discomfort. Y/N gently pulled her hand from Sam's hold, leaving him feeling cold without her touch.

"Rare?" Dean asked, ignoring the looks of the others.

"Yes," Cas clarified. "It is a natural soulmate connection. It happens randomly in nature, not assigned like in Heaven. I believe humans referred to it as 'One True Love.'"

Sam had discovered their connection through research, but Cas' words pinpointed the exact kind of connection they shared. His heart raced, and his mind repeated the words 'truelove, truelove' like a mantra. He felt the truth of it deep in his bones.

Y/N was more than surprised hearing Cas's words, though she supposed it explained why she always felt like she did for Sam, despite him rejecting her and being an ass. But as she glanced between Sam and Dean, sharing twin sheepish expressions, her heart sank.

"You knew?" she asked, glancing between them and their silent nods of confirmation. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?!"

She was angry and hurt. Angry that everyone except her seemed to know what was going on. Hurt that they hadn't told her, hadn't trusted her enough to bring her in, even on something that involved her. But she was also trying to corale the crazy galloping of her heart. It always did that when it came to Sam, but with what she'd just learned, it was so much worse. Still, she couldn't let herself accept it or give in.

"I was going to," Sam began but stopped when Y/N shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she spoke defeatedly. "It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!"

"You made it perfectly clear from the start, Sam, that this would never happen. Just because we know what this is doesn't change our reasons for not doing it to begin with."

"Y/N-"

"I think I just want to be alone for now," she spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes as they shuffled out of the room, feeling like scolded children. Sam lingered in the doorway, hand on the knob, hoping that she'd ask him to stay. But when she didn't even look at him, he reluctantly left and closed the door behind him.

-

Sam huffed in his seat at the table, running his fingers through his hair and harshly tucking it behind his ears. He, Dean, and Y/N were in one of the many storerooms, cataloging the many items in the supernatural vault they called home. They had been trying, whenever they had downtime, to archive and digitize the Bunker's contents.

This time, however, they'd been at it for a week already, establishing a daily, monotonous routine as they worked diligently. Surprisingly, it was at Dean's insistence. Unsurprisingly, it was because things between the three of them had gotten entirely worse, tensions extremely high. It started when Y/N began going on less and less hunts along with the brothers. That turned into Sam getting far too distracted on hunts, and when he got injured because his mind was elsewhere, Dean said enough was enough, and they were taking a break.

Y/N, however, had been going on small, local hunts when the brothers were away. Dean found out about it when they returned early from a hunt due to Sam's injury, and she was arriving back from her own hunt. Thoroughly fed up and worried about them both, Dean practically put everyone on house arrest under his watchful eye.

This is how they ended up working on their project, following a routine set by Dean and cleverly forcing them all to interact. Sam and Y/N still managed to barely speak to each other or be as distant as possible within whatever room they were in. This only angered Dean more, frustrating him beyond belief. But he was determined to make them talk and work through it. After all, they were supposed to be each other's True Loves. Though you couldn't tell it by looking at them.

Sam appeared patient and calm, completely contrasting with the raging storm within him. Everything in him ached and begged for her, for even a sliver of positive attention that he would undoubtedly preen under. Despite everything, all he received from her was a cold shoulder. While working, everything seemed normal and fine so long as they stayed on task. As soon as Sam tried to joke or be personal, her icy walls went up, blocking him out again.

It didn't help that Dean was always there, or she was away, or they were doing something together. But she was never alone with him, and he started to think it was intentional. He just didn't know if that was her doing or Dean's. The tension between them was growing to suffocation, and Sam wasn't sure how long he could maintain his carefully crafted control.

Over time, he had become more tuned into her, able to feel and sense her, and understood her more than ever. He deduced that it must be the same for her, two halves eager to become one, which confused him even more about why or how she resisted.

"Alright," Dean announced as he stretched. "I'm gonna make lunch. You two keep working, and I'll bring everything back."

"Want some help?" Y/N quickly volunteered, and Sam dropped his head at how much she seemed to want to avoid him.

"No, I got it," Dean said with a smile before leaving the storeroom, which suddenly felt smaller.

"Y/N," Sam said the moment they were alone. She barely spared him a glance and a hum in acknowledgment as she stood beside the table, looking over the items they had piled to catalog. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you or insult you or whatever you think I might do," he said, unable to keep the hurt from his tone. "So you can relax."

She huffed and shook her head, glancing at him quickly before looking back at the items. "You already did," she mumbled, but he heard it clear as a bell.

"Y/N-" Sam whispered, his heart breaking a little more as she shook her head again, trying to fight off tears.

He could feel her pain and her fear. That's when he realized how terrified she was of letting down her walls and letting someone in. He understood entirely, but he also knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her if the lingering and longing looks were anything to go by, not to mention the thick and taut tension that grew between them.

Sam sighed, then stood, leaning his hands on the table, his head hanging down. He chewed his lip as he thought over what he wanted to say.

"When we met, I wasn't in a great place," he began, not chancing a look at her, instead just focusing on his words and thoughts.

"Everyone we care about dies. It's happened so much, to so many, and it makes it hard to get close to anyone," he admitted with a huff. He glanced up at her, seeing her had her full attention, but his pain reflected in her eyes.

"On that hunt, we had been tracking you. We didn't know who you were but knew you were an inexperienced hunter."

Y/N was more than shocked, and Sam managed to smile sheepishly.

"We decided to follow you in case things went wrong. I was almost certain something would go wrong, they usually do with new hunters."

Y/N looked ashamed, and Sam pushed on.

"When we entered that house and saw you shooting off salt rounds at the ghosts," Sam chuckled and shook his head, his dimples showing and a tinge of red on his cheeks. Y/N fought to contain the dreamy sigh that wanted to slip out. "It was like one of those movie moments where everything slows down, and the light is shining just so," he chuckled, laughing a little harder as her expression morphed into disbelief and skepticism.

"I swear," he continued, enjoying her attention and reaction, feeling the ice chip away. "When you went all fangirl," he teased, "I wanted to be like Dean. Just lean against the car, smirk, and ask what you liked about me."

Y/N flushed hard, the heat in her cheeks enough to cause a blaze. She would have absolutely died if he had done that. Then the heat died down as she sobered, remembering that was absolutely not his reaction. Sensing he was losing her, Sam pushed on.

"I thought I was doing you a favor, doing me a favor, when I drew that line," he admitted, speaking quicker in his haste to explain himself. "But I was wrong, Y/N. And I didn't mean to hurt you."

Her heart soared at his words, his tender and desperate look, and the fear and hope wafting from him. But she still had her doubts - about herself, about them - that he put there. She wanted to trust him but wasn't sure she could.

"Okay, who is hungry?" Dean announced with a grin, setting a tray on the table and handing out sandwiches and beers.

Y/N turned her attention to Dean and the food, thanking him and tucking in. Sam shook his head, not wanting to stop their conversation but a little angry with Dean for his timing. Dean looked at his brother, who was still standing, with a questioning look. Sam deflated and slumped into his chair, ignoring his sandwich in favor of the beer and taking a healthy swig.

Y/N could feel the disappointment and growing depression coming off of Sam, and Dean's questioning gaze between them wasn't helping her feel any better. She set her sandwich down and pushed away her plate with a grumble.

"Lost my appetite," she explained.

"Alright, what happened?" Dean asked, looking between the two, who were looking anywhere but at him. Or each other.

Sam looked to Y/N, waiting for her to say something. The tension and pressure mounted so high that Y/N felt she couldn't breathe. Her flight instincts kicked in, and she dashed from the room, heading down the halls, hoping to barricade herself in her room until the tensions died down.

Dean could see the heartbreak flashing on Sam's face as the object of his affection ran from the room. He wasn't sure what happened while he was gone, but he hoped the renewed tension meant they were trying to work through everything.

"Sam," Dean said to his brother, having to repeat it a few times before he received the big man's attention. "Go after her!"

Sam's brow furrowed, but when Dean repeated himself a little louder, he jumped to action. Dean was right; he shouldn't leave it. Y/N might hate him or push him away, but he felt like maybe he was getting through to her. And he couldn't just leave things the way they were. A sense of urgency filled him, quickening his steps, as he began to feel like he might lose everything if he didn't reach her in time.

Rushing through the halls, he spotted her approaching her bedroom door. "Y/N!" 

He forced himself to walk, though at a brisk speed. He could see her flinch and knew she had heard him, but she didn't stop or turn to him. 

"Y/N!" He repeated, realizing she was still trying to escape him and the talk they desperately needed to have.

His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and he tugged lightly, making her stop. She tried to shrug him off, which only upset him further. Reaching for her again, he spun her, pinning her in place with her back against the wall right next to her door.

"Sam!" she shouted, trying to push at his chest, but he wasn't moving. Instead, he crowded her further against the wall.

"We have to talk about this, Y/N. We need to deal with this."

She shook her head, on the verge of tears, afraid to look up at him. Her heart had been galloping over his words, and she was grappling with the contradiction between them and what her mind was telling her. His proximity wasn't helping; his scent was warm, and his frame was large. When she had pushed against him, she was surprised she hadn't whined at the strength in his muscles and the solidity of his body. 

It all served to make it impossible to think beyond her desires.

She still hadn't managed to remove her hands from his chest, her fingers twitching lightly against the soft flannel he wore. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her hands, his hands gently holding her upper arms, his warm breath fanning over her face, knowing he was looking down at her and waiting. Waiting for her to speak, to move, to do anything.

"Sam." She breathed, finally getting the courage to look up at him. 

She regretted it almost immediately. His beautiful hazel eyes—so close and in exquisite detail—mesmerized her. Her heart beat so hard and fast that she was sure he could hear it. 

"Please forgive me," Sam spoke, barely a whisper but enough for her to hear.

Everything about Sam was screaming at her to give in, seek out the connection, and revel in all that she had felt and dreamed about with him. She had fought so hard, trying not to give in because he made it clear where he stood. Having him so close, in her space and under her fingers, made something inside her crack and shatter, her walls crumbling down, leaving her open and vulnerable to him.

She nodded, fighting back the tears building in her eyes, "I forgive you."

As he met her eyes, the long-ignored spark brewing between them ignited. Throwing caution and restraint to the wind, Sam cupped her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her with all the passion he’d been denying. He couldn’t fight it anymore and knew she’d likely push him away and maybe slap him, but still, he couldn’t deny himself any longer.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away and instead leaned into him, moaning as she tilted her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He could feel that she had reached a limit, her desire having lasted just as long. He didn’t think, only felt, as he allowed the moment to carry him away.

Sam wrapped his arms around her, and she bent her body into him, giving in willingly. It was he who moaned this time, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into her room, blindly shutting the door behind them and dropping her down to the mattress. He continued kissing her as he hastily undressed her. His hands skimmed along her silky thighs, desperate and eager for her. Inching his hand higher, he groaned as he found her mound, exposed and wet and waiting for him.

Y/N gasped as Sam trailed his kisses down her neck to her chest, and she scrambled to unfasten his pants. She needed him buried deep inside of her. She had thought about it, dreamed about it, for far too long. Her heart was racing, but she simply couldn’t wait a second longer to feel him.

As soon as his cock was free - hard and throbbing in her small and warm hand - Sam moved her hand away and lined up with her entrance, sinking completely inside in one thrust. Y/N’s hands clung to his back, her thighs tight around his hips as he buried his face between her breasts.

He knew it had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and he was bigger than average. He should have given her more time to adjust, but he just couldn’t keep his hips still; his need was too much to bear. He pulled back and thrust in hard, penetrating deep. Y/N threw her head back, and her mouth hung open at its suddenness. Still, he couldn’t stop or slow.

Capturing her mouth again, he kept up a punishing pace, fucking her hard and thorough. Not just because he’d wanted it for so long. Not just because she had been so stubborn in denying him when he’d been clear of his desire. Not just because he needed to hear her scream from pleasure because of him.

But also to fuck the stubbornness out of her. To claim her as his, inside and out. To make her finally submit and give in to what could exist between them.

Their eyes locked as they approached that climax together, moving hard against each other, desperate for that final release. Y/N broke first, her pussy clenching hard around his shaft as she screamed out her pleasure. Sam followed quickly behind, choking on his breath as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hips finally stilled as he pressed as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing relentlessly as he released several streams of cum within her warm depths.

Sam pulled away with a gasp and rose to his feet. Y/N was briefly worried that he was going to run off in shame. Instead, he devoured her with his eyes, licking and biting at his lower lip as he removed all of his clothes.

Once bare, he climbed back over her and kissed her with teeth and tongue, stripping her down to leave her nude and writhing. Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his hips, her arms securing around his neck to keep him close.

“Sam .”

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he confessed, settling his hips between her thighs. She was surprised to find him hard again, or still, as his length nestled against her wet folds.

“You’re mine,” he insisted, sliding within her core slow and steady. “And I’m yours.” He slowly moved his hips, completely contrasting the urgency of before. “No more denying or hiding,” he continued as he slowly thrust in and out, kissing along her neck and collarbone, pressing his promises into her skin.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

@kr804573

SAM WINCHESTER:

@b3autyfuldisast3r

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater || Series Masterlist

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.   

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Get ready for an AU! Several SPN characters will make their appearances: Sam and John Winchester, Castiel as "Cas Novak," Ellen and Jo Harvelle, Jack Kline, Benny Lafitte, Gordon Walker, Meg Masters, Chuck Shurley, Nick (yes, even him), and more!

Series Tags/Warnings: (**18+ only!) There will be a lot of heart, a lot of fun, drama, heartbreak, protective Dean, and even a murder mystery. Rating for eventual smut, perilous situations, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

The Smoke Eater Playlist: YouTube || Spotify

Chapters:

Part 1 - Class and Style - Podcast Version!

Part 2 - Lieutenant Winchester

Part 3 - Got a Hold on Me

Part 4 - Rocky Road

Part 5 - Twitterpated

Part 6 - Just Casual

Part 7 - Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle

Part 8 - Likewise, Baby

Part 9 - Do Not Disturb

Part 10 - Toil and Trouble

Part 11 - Heart of the Home

Part 12 - All in the Family

Part 13 - Boiling Point

Part 14 - Message in a Bottle

Part 15 - The Good Part

Part 16 - Break Down the Gates

Part 17 - The Real Deal

Part 18 - V for Vendetta

Part 19 - Sacrifice

Epilogue - Easy as Pie

Series Complete!

Bonus One-Shots:

Something Real** Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

(Want to listen to the podcast version? Keep scrolling below!)

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

Listen to Part 1 in podfic form!

(A "podfic" is where you can listen to the story narrated.)

(Cover image and narration by @talltalesandbedtimestories)

Or listen to the official Idling in the Impala episode of Smoke Eater Part 1 on YouTube:

Or listen on Spotify.

Listen to the Idling in the Impala podfic episode of the sequel story, Something Real below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Join My Patreon 🌟

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[ryngzmn]

clingy | D.W

PAIRING: dean winchester x werewolf!reader

SUMMARY: ever since you came along, dean hasn’t had a moment of privacy. not that he minds of course.

WORD COUNT: 558.

WARNINGS: not proofread, dean calls reader furball but there are allusions to other nicknames, very short :((

A/N: this is based off a bot I’ve made before, also in my eyes reader has like little wolf ears and a tail like in fanart you might see but I didn’t describe it in case some people didn’t want that :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It had been a few months — seven, more specifically — since you had started to hunt with the Winchester brothers.

And Dean was a little wary of you, to be honest. But you were a supernatural creature, a werewolf to be exact! It wasn’t a surprise he didn’t trust you.

But eventually he warmed up to you, mainly because he started realizing how useful you were on hunts with that enhanced sense of smell and hearing you had.

You seemed to warm up to Dean quickly, very quickly.

If he could describe you in one word: clingy. That would be the word he would use.

To put it nicely, you never left him alone. If he was doing his own thing in the bathroom, you’d be waiting outside. You were constantly by his side and practically breathing down his neck.

Like right now. Dean was making some breakfast while you were just watching him, not contributing in any way whatsoever. Although, he could probably say you were there for emotional support.

After a bit, Dean briefly glanced at you, seeing that you were only a few inches away from his face.

“Can you give me some room to work here, furball?” The nickname he gave you rolled off his tongue effortlessly, along with the countless other ones he had given you before.

You listened eagerly and quickly took a few steps back, your gaze darting from Dean back over to the food.

Dean noticed this and realized you must’ve been really hungry for you to be eyeing it like that. “You hungry?”

You nodded with a small ‘mhm’ and Dean chuckled.

“Well jus’ give me a few minutes and the food’ll be ready for ya.” He smirked.

“Okay!” You replied cheerfully, turning your head away from the food to look around the bunker’s kitchen. Something Dean noticed you often did when you had nothing else to do.

He let out a small huff, pausing whatever he was doing and turning to you. “Why don’t you go set the table? Food’s almost done. Also, why not wake up Sam while you’re at it?”

Dean watched as you turned and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the table and leaving some space in the middle so Dean could place the pancakes and eggs there.

He turned back to the stove and subconsciously listened to your footsteps rushing down the hallway to Sam’s room.

And by the time he was done and stacking all the pancakes onto one plate, you were already back in the kitchen with Sam in tow.

Walking over to the table, you sat down next to the spot that Dean always sat in. On purpose, of course.

Dean brought the pancakes over to the table and set them down in the middle of the table, sitting down moments later.

While everyone ate, Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye inching closer to him. He said nothing about, knowing that you just wanted it be closer to him.

It might’ve been weird that you were only this clingy with him, you were never this clingy with Sam or Castiel. He’d never bring it up though, mainly because he didn’t mind.

In fact, he enjoyed the fact that someone always wanted to be so close to him, no matter how annoying it got.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

tags! : @ryvkkr

feedback would be appreciated but not necessary!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Burial

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, time loop!

Summary/Warnings: You have a talk with Sam, and try to figure out what the hell is going on with this time loop. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: Gotta love a montage episode. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.6k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

“And this is-“ Sam shakes his head, rubbing his forehead as he frowns into the air. “How many loops did you say you’d gone through-“

“Five.” You mutter, kicking a rock with the tip of your shoe. “This is number five.”

Sam gives you an apologetic sigh. “I mean, that’s not half bad. I did mine like, a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And you said yours doesn’t have a reset point?”

You swallow, and kick another rock. This one bounces a little further. “You’re gonna have to explain that again.”

“Most time loops have a reset point-“

You give him a flat look. “Most time loops?”

Sam winces, running a hand through his hair. “In movies.”

“So we’re going off of movies-“

“I’ve only lived through one time loop,” Sam mutters your name with a grimace. “And it had a reset point. Every time loop movie has a reset point. Unless you know anyone else-“

“No.” You sigh. Third rock. All the way into the gutter of the road. “Sorry, it’s just- Long five days.”

He nods, and there’s a moment of silence, the only sounds in the world birds and the distant rush of cars as you and Sam sit on the curb of the highway. 

You’ve been here almost an hour. Soon Dean is going to notice that you’re both missing, and that the last thing he’d seen of you was a blur and shout sprinting past him and leaving without explanation. He’ll send Cas to find you, if you’re not careful. Or worse, he’ll track you down himself.

“Reset point?” Sam prompts, and you sigh, frowning at the pavement.

“It’s- I don’t remember-“

“In a lot of time loops it’s only falling asleep.” He offers. “But sometimes it’s like- an event. Mine was Dean dying.”

You blink at him, and pray he can’t see the obvious panic eating up your throat. “I- did he always die-“

“Every fucking time.”

“Oh.”

“It’s- that was supposed to be the lesson. That I couldn’t save him.” The last word is a little choked, and you hug your knees to your chest as the silence stretches on.

You could have it worse.

This isn’t great, but you could really have it worse.

“Is Dean a part of your reset point?”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes set on the ground. Fourth rock, lost somewhere in the grass. 

“But- do you have one-“

“Someone will- I’ll be told a secret,” you mumble. “Or a lie, or something. Then it will reset.”

Sam frowns at you. “Or something?”

“It’s only loop five, Sam, I haven’t been taking notes.”

“Fair. Will, uh- If I tell you secret, will it reset?”

You shrug. You’re going to have to come up with a better lie next time.

Or you could tell Sam the truth. That every reset point is a very specific person, telling you a very specific secret.

But you’re already exhausted. And Sam will want to talk about it.

The truth is something that can be saved for loop one hundred. Dire last resorts.

Right now, you don’t really know what it means yourself, and you’d rather not have the I may be in love with Dean, and that might be having consequences conversation right now. You don’t want to think about how Dean’s I love you’s are all probably part of this horrible, twisted prank from the universe, and if you say it back, you’ll be saying it to a ghost. You’ll mean it. He won’t.

You don’t hate yourself enough to break your cardinal rule of don’t think about it, don’t entertain it, and never tell Dean just because you’re suddenly caught in a time loop.

“Probably not.“ You mutter. “It’s- I don’t know. Hard to explain.”

Sam just nods, frowning at the air as he wrings his hands, his words slow and careful. “The best gamble I have for this is a trickster, but- I don’t understand why he’d target you.”

You tilt your head at him. “I mean- Hasn’t Gabriel been dead for years-“

“I don’t think death has ever really stuck to the people we know.” Sam mutters, his voice dry. “And there might be multiple tricksters. I found mine because he was the only thing that ever changed, but- It took a while. You might be here,” He gestures around to the air. “For a… while.”

“Awesome.” You mutter. Fifth rock. Gutter again. “So just wait for someone to change?”

Sam nods. “How many people did you see, on the first day?”

“You. Dean. Cas.” You frown, counting off on your fingers. “I went to the grocery store on the first loop, but that was pretty much it. And the third loop I went to get Dean from a bar-“

Sam makes an odd face. “Why was Dean at a- Did you guys fight?”

You blink at him. “No, we didn’t- It’s Dean, why wouldn’t he be at a bar?”

“When was the last time you saw him go to bar,” Sam says your name, his expression making you think there’s something obvious that you’re being stupid for missing. “I mean- I knew he wanted to talk to you-“

“Talk to me?” Your voice is a squeak, and you think your nails are going to leave a mark on your skin. “I- Why would he-“

“It’s, uh-“ Sam swallows, giving you an apologetic look before returning his gaze to the ground. “I can’t tell you. It’s a Dean conversation.”

You’re about to push it further, ask what the fuck a Dean conversation is, but Sam moves on, and your mouth snaps shut.

“We should head back soon, or Dean might tear up the state looking for us. You might just have to ride it out, but-“ Sam runs a hand through his hair, glancing down the road as if Dean might appear, storming towards you with a shout. 

He won’t. 

But Cas might.

“If you need me,” Sam gives you a weak, toothless smile. “Tell me, uh, it’s been a long Tuesday, and I’ll understand.”

You nod wearily, and a shout of your name breaks through the air.

Dean didn’t send Cas.

“What the hell are you two doing?” He’s storming down the road, shotgun in hand as he scans over you and Sam on the curb, obviously assessing you for injuries. “Just running out of the bunker, not telling me where you’re going, then vanishing for two goddamn hours-“

“We’re fine, Dean-“

“Shut it, Sam. Something could’ve happened to you, we don’t know what’s in these woods-“

You raise your brows at him. “A crazy man with a shotgun?”

Sam snorts, and Dean looks like he’s going to strangle you. It was a low blow. You’re going to need to work on patience a little bit more, if Sam is right.

At this pace, you’ll have stabbed someone, or gotten stabbed yourself, before loop seventy-five.

“You think you’re funny,” Dean snaps your name, his grip on the gun white-knuckled. “But we’ve hunted fucking vamps and wolves out here, kid-“

“Don’t call me kid-“

“Then don’t run off in the middle of the goddamn night like one-“

“It’s noon!” You gape at him. “I- Sam is with me-“

Dean rolls his eyes, his voice only a grunt. “Should’ve taken me to your secret little meeting-“

“Our- What is going on with you-“

“You were gone for hours!” He snaps, and Sam only sighs, as if he’s been waiting for whatever this is to snap. “I- I was fucking worried-“

“Why-“

“Because I love you! And I don’t want you to get fucking hurt,” Dean shouts your name, and you think you physically deflate.

Fuck.

“You- I can’t not worry when I-“

“Yeah, you love me.” You run a hand over your face, and there’s the light. If this is a trickster, you’re going to need have a serious conversation with them—involving a lot of guns and knives—about what constitutes a joke, and how this is more of a Sisyphean-like torture, vaulting you up to heaven, only for you to know you’ll always crash right back down. “I know. See you guys tomorrow.”

Everything fades to black, but you can still see Dean staring at you, looking as if you’d shot him right through the chest.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’re going to be here a while. Staring at the ceiling, tangled in blankets but without sheets, listening to Dean sing down the hallway and counting down the seconds until-

“Son of a bitch!”

Take six.

Sam said to find the Trickster. That he’d be the only thing that changed.

But things have changed. Not the set you’ve been plunged into—a cruel, mocking twist of your life where everything seems designed to torture you, entrapping you in a vicious cycle of your favorite dream, made into a nightmare—but the script. They always come back to the same lines, but you’d found ways to pry new things out of them. 

You’re not really sure what that means.

You’re going to have to figure it out. 

You wander into the kitchen a little later than usual, and Dean has already cleaned up his breakfast mess. He’s scowling at the fridge, and before he can greet you, and you take the cereal out of the cabinet to place it on the counter.

“I’m going grocery shopping with Cas later,” you tell him, grabbing your apple and dropping onto a stool. “Ice your hand, Winchester.”

“I, uh-“ Dean glances down at his palm, then back to you with a frown. “How’d you-“

“I heard the pan fall. And you forgot the cleaner wipes.” You nod to the floor, where little bits of bacon are still scattered across the tile. “I know you’re better at cleaning than that, Dean.”

He shrugs, moving to sit at your side. “Didn’t know where they were-“

“Liar.” You block him with a hand, narrowing your eyes. “Ice.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-“

“That’s a second-degree burn, dumbass. Ice.”

He scans over you with a slight frown, but gives in all the same.

Dean ices his burn. Sam returns from his run, and Dean looks like a keyed car but that’s a simile, not a metaphor, and they fight about running as a concept. Ten miles, and Sam needs a shower. Dean would tear a hamstring.

“I’m not going to run with you, Sam.” You turn your apple core in your hand, and you already sound exhausted. “You were gone for like, seven hours. That’s too long.”

Sam shrugs. “I’d call it impressive-“

“That’s because you’re insane.” 

“See, Sammy? Some of us got priorities.” Dean grins, and squeezes your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

Sparks. Sunlight. Open wound. 

This is going to suck. 

You throw up when Cas transports you to the grocery store, and you really need to just stop fucking eating that apple. 

Cas is stuck on the Oreos. You try to direct him from the mint to the vanilla, but he seems entranced by the mint and double-stuffed for Cas reasons, and you end up with a box of both. Dean will take drastic measures for bacon. You get cherry pie instead of pumpkin, Cas gets honey, and you decide to buy two tubs of ice because you’re having a shit fucking day.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping.” Cas says at the checkout line, and you sigh, focusing your attention on the different flavors of gum on display. “But I am… more perceptive than most-“

“I know I have feelings for Dean.” You cut him off with a flat voice. “I’m not going to tell him.”

Cas frowns. “I firmly believe that it would be to both your benefits to have a conversation-“

“Drop it, Cas. I’m serious.”

He drops it. 

You get back to the bunker, throw up, and bring Dean the pie this time, passing it to him without a word before dropping in your chair.

“You’re an angel, sweetheart.” He whispers, and when you look up, he’s gaping at you the same way he did in the kitchen, two loops ago. Like you’re priceless, and he’s afraid of that. “You know that?”

“No,” you mumble, pulling a book into your lap. “He’s putting the food away.”

Dean doesn’t snort this time. He just keeps staring at you, leaning forward in his chair as if his body isn’t fully in control.

Fuck. 

“I love you,” he says it like it’s a weapon. Like he’s trying to wield the words best he can to convince you. “You gotta know that, right? You’re an angel, and I fuckin’ love you.”

You give him a soft smile, and let out a long breath. 

The light clicks off.

“Yeah. I know.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

“Son of a bitch!”

Cleaner. You manage to dodge the squeeze of your thigh when you step over Dean on the floor, but barely. Cereal and marshmallows. Burn and ice and running, similes and metaphors, and you don’t eat the apple, but when you get to the grocery store you still end up talking about Oreos, and Cas is more perceptive than most. 

Dean will take drastic measures for bacon.

You get apple pie instead of cherry. It doesn’t change anything. 

You’re an angel, sweetheart, you know that?

No, he’s putting the pie away.

Sam comes in, then leaves.

You still seeing that guy from the city?

Small, strange fight. Dean storms off, and calls you in five hours. 

You go for him this time, but you call him and make him find his own way to the car. It strains at your heart as he stumbles into the parking lot—you want him to lean over you and mumble in your ear, to call you baby and walk you back to a wall and kiss you until you’re moaning and stupid—but you’ve played out going inside before.

And none of this will matter when you’re back here in a few loops anyway. You’ll let yourself go inside them.

Dean leans in the window, a wide, sloppy grin over his face as he slurs out your name. “You’re- Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty-“

“I know, Dean.” You sigh, nodding to the passenger’s seat. “Get in the car.”

He shakes his head, a large hand reaching inside the car to hold your chin, angling it to force your gaze onto his drunken, glossed-over eyes. “No, ya’ don’t. Don’t get it. More than pretty, baby- I gotta- needed to tell you something-“

“Dean-“

He slams his lips to yours, and you almost go slack. He still tastes like whiskey, and this time you can smell the evergreen of his aftershave, and it’s all somehow better than the first time. He’s more desperate, and impossibly less controlled. Biting at your lower lip and all but shoving his tongue down your throat before starting to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, humming when you whimper and smirking against your skin.

When he pulls back, there’s the blown-out adoration and affection all over his face once more. 

And he just leaves. Stands up, stumbles his way around the car, and drops in the passenger’s seat with a wide, toothy, dazed grin.

You swallow, and start the car.

Maybe you’ll make it to the end of the night without an incident. Maybe you won’t get to come back to the bar, because you’d somehow tamed whatever had come over Dean in all the past loops, and he’d kissed you without saying the thing, so you were free-

Dean’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes. Sparks and sunlight and raw and fuck-

“I love you.” He says your name, and when you glance at him, he’s watching you with the priceless expression. “You’re- Yeah. Love you.”

You can’t say anything. The light is turning off, but your words are stuck in your throat.

You just tangle your fingers with his, squeeze his hand three times, and everything fades to black. 

——————

You’ve been here before. 

You don’t make it out of the kitchen this time. You get out of bed in time to see Dean drop the pan, and you’re grabbing the ice before he can even greet you.

It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-

You mumble the words along with him as you grab his hand, trace your fingers lighting over the thin, blistering mark, and press the ice right over his hand.

Holding it there.

Right until you look up, and he’s looking at you like you’re priceless.

This kiss is slower. More careful. His free hand moves to cup your face, and his lips are cautious on yours, like he’s afraid he’ll set off some sort of bomb.

“I love you.” He mummers against your lips, and you ignore it, just deepening the kiss as the light turns off.

You’ll hear him say it again tomorrow.

The taste of coffee and smell of evergreen stick to your mind long after everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You almost glide through it this time, because maybe playing it through right will be what this calls for. 

The kitchen. Eat the apple then throw it up. Oreos and pie and honey, shut down Cas in the checkout line and make a horrible joke when Dean calls you an angel—it hurts more this time, and you think it might build up to something that turns your whole body to stone, not just your heart—then have a stupid fight about the Suit from the City. 

When Dean calls you, send Cas. When he returns, help him to bed and ignore how he’s calling you pretty. 

You haven’t done this part since the first time.

You’d forgotten how hard it was. 

“Dean, you’re holding me really tight-“

“Gotta hold you. You’re gonna leave.”

You sigh, combing your finger through his hair. “I’d never leave you, Dean. Never.”

You don’t think you said leave you last time.

That’s probably why things move just an inch faster.

“Good. Can’t do it… Don’t- you need to be here, baby. Need you.” He hums, and you shiver, but his voice is softer than the first time.

Here it comes. 

“Love you.”

“I know.” You whisper, and the light goes off. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

The first snore tears through the air, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’ve made no progress towards leaving.

Son of a bitch!

You need to avoid him. If you’re going to find the trickster in here, you priority can’t be thinking about Dean, and when he’ll say it, and if he’ll kiss you again this time. 

The only places you see other people are at the grocery store and the bar. 

You eat the apple and throw it up—for consistency—and no one changes or gives a sign that they’re in on this.

Instead of sitting with Dean in the library, you hide in your room, hoping you’ll be able to check out the bar and still manage to avoid him.

Dean ends up at the bar anyway.

When you go to get him, you realize your mistake the second you see him. 

He doesn’t wait until you’ve paid his tab this time. He pulls you right between his legs, picks you up, and sets you on the bar as he kisses you. Going until the room is spinning, right before shouting that he loves you for the whole bar to hear.

The light goes off as you let out a heavy breath, drop your head onto his chest and cling to his shoulders as he presses a kiss to your brow and repeats the words.

Quieter. Only for you to hear.

It’s the first time he’s said it twice.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

This time you make Cas get Dean, and then go investigate the bar yourself.

Nothing’s changed, and before you can leave Dean pops in front of you—Cas at his side, giving you an apologetic look—and hauls you into his arms, shouting about your safety the same as he had on the curb with Sam.

“Dean-“

“You can’t just fucking vanish like that,” he snaps at you, his anger seeming to have sobered him up in half a heartbeat. “I- You freaked me the hell out-“

“I’m fine-“

“But what if you weren’t.”

“But I am.”

“But-“

You sigh, dropping your head onto his shoulder. You’re too tired to fight, and he’s big and warm, and you don’t really like this loop enough to drag it on. “Why do you care.” You mutter, try to draw it out of him, so you can wake up semi-rested, in your bed without sheets. “It’s not like I’m a child-“

“No, but I-“ He cuts himself off, and now he’s reluctant to say it. “It doesn’t matter.“

You’re so tired. “Pussy.”

His steps freeze, his voice dropping to almost a growl. “Excuse me?”

“Just say it, Dean, you fucking pussy.” You lean back, holding his glare with your own. This is cruel, but you just want to start over. You’d avoided him all day for nothing, and now he’s mad and you feel like stone and you just want it to be over. “Say it.”

“Say what-“

“Why the fuck do you care what I do or don’t do-“

“Because you’re my- You-“ He sets you down on the roof of a random car, running a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, what the hell are you trying to-“

“Why are you getting so fucking drunk, Dean. Why do you care if I’m fucking the suit from the city?!”

His eyes widen. “You’re-“

“Yeah, I’m fucking him. What are you going to do about it, you fucking-“

Kiss. Rough, bruising, angry kiss that’s like a shot of heroine to your bloodstream, and big, rough hands tugging at your hair as you moan down his throat.

“I love you, you fucking brat. I’m going to fuck you so good you never even think about anyone else.” Dean shoves his knee between your thighs, drawing out a high whine from your lips. “You got that?”

“Yeah. I do.” You smile against his lips, and the light goes off. “Thank you.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Blanket. No sheets. You mouth son of a bitch right as Dean shouts it, and you’ve really gotten the hang of this.

Dean needs to ice his hand, and when he says it’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine, you say it at the exact same time, dropping your voice to mimic his.

He stares at you. “How’d you-“

You shrug, and point to the fridge. “Ice. And there’s cereal in the cabinet, but no milk. I-“

You pause, glancing at the apples on the counter. You’re hungry. 

Maybe you won’t go shopping today.

“I’ll give you a list to go shopping later.” You grab the apple—the fucker is going to stay in your stomach, this time around—and sit down at the counter. “Take Cas, he can carry more things.”

Dean frowns. “I can carry things-“

“I know you can, Dean. Cas can carry more. Ice your fucking hand.”

He stares at you, making no effort to move to the freezer. “You feeling okay? You’re- you seem a bit, I dunno, touchy-“

“I’m fine-“

Dean shakes his head, dropping down next you and placing his hand on your thigh. Sparks. Sunlight. 

This is going to kill you.

“Look,” he says your name carefully, and you might end up throwing up without Cas. “You know you can, I dunno, talk to me, right? About anything, even if it’s really freakin’ dumb?”

You let out a long breath, burying your face in your hands as your heart turns back to that tight stone. “Yeah, I know. It’s Lucky Charms in the cabinet, Dean. Hand,” you poke him right over the burn, and he winces. “Then you can eat your marshmallows.”

He’s staring at you again. It’s the expression. The one that’s warning you what’s coming, and-

“Dude, what’s wrong with you.” Sam walks into the kitchen, and Dean scowls. “You look like a keyed car.”

“It’s a simile,” you tell Dean, before anything can get away from you. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been a long Tuesday.”

Sam’s eyes flash, his mouth opening and closing, and it worked. 

“You- uh, you’re sure-“

“Positive.” You mumble, and Dean coughs, saying your name slowly.

“It’s a Friday-“

You frown at him, shaking your head. “It’s Saturday-“

“No, Dean’s right.” Sam gives you an odd look. “It’s Friday.”

You blink between them, and pull out your phone.

It is Friday.

You could’ve sworn it was Saturday. This whole time, you’ve been certain it was Saturday.

Sam clears his throat. “Dean, uh- You should go get the groceries.”

Dean shakes his head. “You freakin’ do it, I’m-“

“You’re not busy.” Sam rolls his eyes, moving further into the kitchen. “And I just ran ten miles, dude. I need a shower.”

You tune out the rest of the conversation. You’ve heard it before. Hamstrings and junk food, and when Sam finally gets Dean to go find Cas for food—texting him the list instead—you remember at the last second to add a second text to Cas, telling him to get cherry pie instead of pumpkin.

“You’re- uh.” Sam scratches the back of his neck once you’re alone, watching you carefully. “Time loop, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And this is-“ Sam shakes his head, rubbing his brow as he frowns into the air. “How many-“

“Lost count.” You mutter. “Can’t find a trickster, by the way. I kept getting-“ You cut yourself off with a sigh, a hundred Dean’s saying love you echoing around in your head like the most beautifully horrible chorus in the world. “Never mind. You wanna watch a movie?”

Sam blinks at you. “A- What?”

“I know Dean has some time loop movies.” You glance out to the hall, letting out a long breath. “You told me that’s all we had to go off of-“

“I did?” Sam frowns. “When did I-“

“Time loop, Sam.”

“Oh, uh- Right.” He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry. Kind of forgot-“

“’S fine. I don’t care. Movies?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Sam doesn’t try to stand, just staring at you with a slight frown. “Do you know your- Did I tell you about reset points-“

You nod, swallowing down a lump in your throat. You’re too tired to lie, this time around. “I have one. It’s- Dean tells me a secret.”

Sam raises his brows. “A secret? Is it- Did he talk to you.”

“He talks to me all the time, Sam-“

Sam says your name, his voice flat. “You know that’s not what I meant. Did he? Talk to you, I mean-“

“Yeah.” You sigh. “He did. Does. Every time. And then,” you snap your fingers, grimacing slightly, and Sam frowns.

“Do you, uh, what have you said back?”

You’ve never said anything back.

You really don’t want to talk about it.

“Can we please just watch the movies?” You look up with a pleading expression before Sam can answer. “Please.”

Sam sighs, but nods, and follows you to the Dean Cave without another word.

Dean doesn’t have as many time loop movies as you’d thought, so you start to look online while Sam makes popcorn. Dean’s out getting groceries with Cas. He won’t be home for a few hours, and that’s all the more time before you’re in danger of him finding you and saying it. Before the reset point hits, and you have to explain everything to Sam again. 

You get through two and half movies, scratching likely useless notes on a piece of paper, avoiding Sam’s pointed looks when the answer on the screen is confront your flaws.

Telling Dean you love him won’t help. Even if it’s not a trickster, you’re still pretty certain it’s not real. This is Dean. He’s not good with his emotions, let alone being vulnerable with them, and—even if he really did feel something for you, out there in the real world—you think he’d eat a bullet before he’d just say he loves you. 

Even if Sam keeps claiming he was going to talk to you, that might just be another part of the loop that isn’t real. 

The first time you’d drifted through this day, Dean hadn’t said the thing. The only real time you’d woken up in a bed without sheets, you’d put Dean to bed and left him there without another word. 

So love isn’t the answer here. Not when it’s not even real.

And Sam isn’t being helpful, with all those fucking looks. He’s barely even paying attention the movies—he keeps trying to talk to you about the next case, vamps, but you don’t really care—watching them like they’re the most boring thing he’s ever seen whenever his eyes flick up.

And Dean is Dean.

So when he bursts into the room with a tub of ice cream—the same ice cream you’d gotten with Cas on your grocery runs—he’s immediately dropping at your side, kicking his feet up and grinning at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“You know, it’s pretty freakin’ rude to watch my movies without me, sweetheart-“

You shrug, giving him a half-apologetic smile. “You were out-“

“Coulda waited for me. I love- Uh-“ He looks back to the screen with a small frown. “What movie is this?”

You snort. “Happy Death Day.”

“I didn’t know I owned that one-“

“You don’t. I rented it.” Sam cuts in from his chair, not looking up from his laptop. “Hey, Dean, have you ever heard of the any vamps that-“

Dean turn the volume all the way up, shooting you a wink and passing the ice cream into your hands.

“Got this for you. And I’d share my pie, but it’s, uh-“

You give him a soft smile. “You ate it all, didn’t you.”

“You know me so well.” He grins at you for another, long second, and turns back to the TV.

Four more movies. Almost all of them end by either finding the person who put them there—you’d tried that, hadn’t worked—or finding the right thing to do, and doing it.

That won’t work here either. 

“Are we only gonna watch these time loop movies-“

“Yes.” 

Dean sighs, tipping his head back to rest on the couch. “Alright. Can I get some beer?”

You give him an amused look. “What are you gonna do if I say no?”

“Uh- Get it anyway?”

You raise your brows, and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, kid.”

You shrug, looking back to the TV and ignoring the stone over your heart. “I didn’t say anything, buddy.”

“Don’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Sammy, you want a beer?”

“Sure. You, uh-“ He glances up to Dean with a frown, lowing his voice as if you won’t still be able to hear it. “You gonna do the-“

“Beer.” Dean claps his hands together, pushing off the couch and ignoring Sam entirely. “Be right-“

You grab his wrist, and he seems to freeze under your touch. 

“I- uh-“

“Do I not get a beer?” You ask, and his shoulders visibly relax as a half-smirk tugs at his lips.

“Not after last night, sweetheart.”

You frown at him. “Last- Huh?”

His smirk grows. “You don’t remember it, do you?”

You release his wrist.  “I- remember-“

“You got wasted last night, sweetheart.” He scans you over, the smirk only growing. “You threw up on Sammy.”

“And the floor. And her bed.” Sam mutters from his seat, shooting you a grimacing look of apology. “Don’t feel bad, Dean just wasn’t fast enough.”

Your head is spinning, starting to cloud over with that fog from the first few loops. Like a hazy veil is covered purposefully and carefully over your eyes. “I- Dean?”

“I was fast, man,” he snaps, glaring at Sam. “you were in the way-“

“Dean.” You squeeze his hand, trying to steady yourself or check he’s real or something, and he blinks at you. “What did I do?”

“You’re a lightweight, sweetheart-“

“No- I-“ You frown at him. “No, I’m not-“

“With absinthe you are.” Sam shrugs, and you gape at him.

“Absinthe?” You half-squeak. “Who gave me-“

Dean snort. “You gave you absinthe. You stole it from Cas.”

“I- Oh.” 

That does sound like you.

“Did I- I meant like, did I do anything stupid.” You mumble, releasing Dean’s wrist and staring at your hands. “Or just vomit on Sam.”

“You were- Nothing you do is stupid.” Dean says that like it’s fact, and you’re going to maybe get drunk on nothing at all. “You just got all rambly and touchy. Nothing worse than normal.”

“Dean had to put you to bed.”

“Sam-“

“You did?” You cut Dean off with soft words, and he lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “De-“

“Yeah, I did.” He mutters. “Got you into your room, cleaned you up and changed you, but, uh- I kept my eyes off the goods-“

He gestures to your chest, Sam snorts, and you both elect to ignore him.

Nothing else is really more important than Dean right now. Looking at you. Into you. Right to your pounding heart, and still talking.

“You kinda vomited on the sheets, so I put them in the wash. Tried to offer you my bed but you, uh-“ His whole face is red. You wish Sam would fucking leave the room. “You said not like that and then passed out. So I found some non-contaminated blankets and, yeah.”

“Why?” Your voice is barely a breath, and Dean just shrugs, never breaking your gaze.

“Because I love you.”

Something bright and cool washes over you as Dean just stares at you. He’d taken care of you. Before you were trapped in here, he’d been taking care of you, and that didn’t feel like something a trickster had made him do. You know, somewhere in your gut, that it was just Dean.

Caring for you. 

The light goes off, but something clear is blooming over your ribs.

You open your mouth, ready scream it right back to him, but everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

And this time, maybe—if you do this right, and movies are as a reliable a source as Sam claims—you won’t have to be here again.

End Note: Someone show Cas that Dropout Brennan Lee Mulligan Oreo video right now.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist (If you'd like to be added, please fill out this form!)

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224 @sthefferrete

@lyarr24 @deansbby @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28

@lordofthunderthr @youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco

@ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67 @rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde

@heyimoliviaa @itsdearapril @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice

@foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch @ilovedeanwinchester @4sleepykittycx

@immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101 @chi-raz @lori19

@wynnthewynnder @fultiana-kh @woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber

@salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey @and-i-wish @jsudsgf @deans-yn

@jofinka @allthetroubleiveseen @dyhsversion @pillowjj

@laurakirsten0502

[deancaspinefest]

Fanfic Dreams

Author: seidenapfel | Artist: Witchy-Worm

Posting on Wednesday April 9

After running into Marie and the girls, Dean can’t let go of fanfictions. Digging into them, he can’t escape them. Fic after fic he falls deeper into a rabbit hole as he realises that the fics soothe the cravings of the Mark. And he will do everything to keep it that way. His longing transcends barriers, and at first, Castiel only receives vibes when his yearning resonates and the dreams commence. Endless possibilities open themselves up for him. For them. Missed moments. Alternate universes. All of them have one thing in common: Dean. Lovely, beautiful Dean Winchester, loving him back in every possible way. Yet, every morning, it feels as if nothing has happened. Everything is back to normal — or is it?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

‘You can't spell subtext without.... s-e-x.’

The memory sent shivers along Dean’s spine. He had never thought— Well, scratch that, but…

He sighed. Marie’s words kept haunting him. Worse, Dean’s mind didn’t stop throwing moments at him.

Missed moments.

Conversations. Images. Sounds. Feelings.

Six years of repressed longing and sexual tension came down on him. He had presumed he had it under control, that stuffing them in the deepest corner of his mind would eventually work out.

Massaging his aching temples, Dean took several deep breaths when the Mark on his arm flared up.

“Goddammit!” he snapped.

Pressing his hand on the throbbing brand, he groaned. He had it under control. He had to. There was no other way.

Over and over, he repeated his mantra, until, one day, he might believe it himself. Under the strain, Dean’s hand twitched for the First Blade, but he clenched his fist and closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him.

He had it under control.

Deliberately, Dean led his cravings back into another direction. He was skating on thin ice, yet it was the only way to distract himself.

Destiel.

There were fans of Chuck’s books out there believing that he and Cas—

Dean bit his bottom lip and grabbed his laptop from the empty place next to him on his mattress. Another kind of longing overcame him, but he shook his head and turned to his screen.

As he typed two words into the search bar, he held his breath, and nearly choked when he got results. Lots of them. There were so many.

He double-checked the words he had typed, but they were the correct ones: Fanfiction Destiel

How many of those fucking weirdos were out there?

With his well-trained eye for research, he browsed the entries, but they all seemed valid.

“Son of a bitch!” he hissed when he clicked on the first link. Unbelievingly, he stared at the numbers on top of the page.

1 - 20 of 7,164 Works in Castiel/Dean Winchester

“You gotta be kidding me!”

His eyes bulged as he skimmed the page. Horrified, he read on: Bottom Dean, Top Cas, Spanking...

Dean couldn’t resist and clicked the link, only to throw his laptop shut as he started to cough heavily when there was a drawing instead of words.

“Fucking hell!”

What had he just seen?

Jeez, he needed to bleach his brain. He could never unsee what he had just— Against his will, Dean’s fingers reached back for the laptop, and slowly opened it again. The image hadn’t changed, yet this time, he gave himself time to take it in.

It was—

Dean licked his lips as he suddenly felt hot all over. It still creeped him out so fucking much, but he couldn’t deny the longing bubbling up inside him.

Keep reading on Ao3 after Wednesday April 9 🌲Find more 2025 Pinefest previews here 🌲

[aroselaine]

Puppy Love Pt. 1

Jack Kline x fem! OC

-originally on ao3-

Summary: Addie is called to the bunker to teach Jack what it means to be human. Hesitantly agreeing, she quickly realizes she’s in way over her head.

Pt. 1 (You Are Here), Pt. 2

“You want me to do what?” Addie spoke into the phone, pacing around the motel room.

“Just stay at the bunker for a few days. That’s all we’re asking,” Dean’s voice sounded over the line.

“Dean, you know I'm busy,” she sighed. “I’ve been tracking these vamps for weeks, and—”

“Look, kid,” Dean interrupted. “I wouldn’t have called if this wasn’t important. I can’t tell you over the phone, but”—he paused—“we really need you to come up here.”

Addie tucked her lip between her teeth, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She knew there was no arguing with Dean. “Okay, but—”

“Sammy already called some other hunters. Don’t worry about the nest. We’ll handle it.”

“Right,” she responded, her voice clipped.

The call dropped, and Addie was left staring at the police reports and pictures plastered on the motel walls.

Addie lifted her hand to the bunker door and pounded hard. She had driven through the night and was eager to find out what was so “important” that she had to abandon a hunt. After a few seconds, the door opened, and she found herself face-to-face with Castiel.

“Addie,” he spoke in that gravelly voice of his, “please come in.”

She smiled at Cas before walking past him and looking over the balcony. Sam and Dean were surrounded by books at the map table, already looking up at her. She hurried down the steps with Cas trailing behind. Reaching Sam first, she wrapped him in a hug before turning to Dean and doing the same. Once the greetings were done, she stepped back and looked at Dean.

“Alright, why am I here? And it better not be to do some stupid movie marathon with you.”

Dean squinted. “My marathons are not—”

“Alright,” Sam interrupted, clapping his hands. “Look, this is hard to explain, but—”

“We need your help with Jack,” Castiel interjected, his voice low and serious.

“Jack?” Addie questioned, turning her attention to Cas.

“He’s a nephilim. Half human, half angel. In his case, half archangel,” Castiel explained.

“Way to put it delicately, Cas,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

Addie’s gaze drifted past them as she noticed a young man who had quietly entered the room. He was strikingly handsome, and even without being told, Addie felt she could have guessed what he was. Realizing she was distracted, Sam, Dean, and Cas turned to see who had captured her attention.

“Jack,” Castiel greeted, his tone softening. “This is Addie.” He motioned towards her.

“Hello!” Jack grinned widely, waving his hand.

“Hi,” Addie replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Castiel told me you were coming,” Jack continued eagerly. “He said you were my age. That you could tell me what a—”

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough,” Dean cut in, shooting him a pointed look.

“Jack, could you go back to your room until we get Addie settled in?” Cas asked gently.

“Yes,” Jack agreed, nodding before turning and leaving the room.

Once Jack was gone, Dean spoke up. “Look, I don’t like this, but Sam and Cas think you can help teach him.”

“Teach him what? He’s a grown man,” Addie said, confused.

“Actually, he’s only about three months old,” Castiel corrected. “Despite looking and thinking like someone in their twenties, he still has a lot to learn about Earth.”

“You can’t be serious,” Addie exclaimed, waiting for the punchline. When there was none, she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This is too much.”

Sam stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but we just need you to teach him how to be human. Show him how to use a computer, play video games, listen to music—things like that.”

“I need a beer,” Dean grumbled, walking off toward the kitchen.

Addie watched him leave before turning back to Sam. “Can I think about it? It’s been a long day, and—”

“Of course,” Sam said quickly. “Come on, let me show you to your room.”

[system-to-the-madness]

Favourite Scent - Castiel x Reader

Pairing: Castiel x fem!Reader Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 172 Warnings: none Summary: Castiel likes the smell of your shampoo Prompts: favourite scent A/N: first time I’m actually publishing something with Cas, although he’s one of the first characters I ever wrote for (along with Spencer Reid and Sam Winchester)

It was unusual for Castiel to take a room at a motel, and even more unusual for him to take a shower, yet here you were, sitting in his room, listening to the running water behind the closed bathroom door.

Did… did the angel even know how to use shampoo and soap, you wondered. The latest mission had been a bloodbath, and while you had been sitting in a diner where Sam and Dean had dropped you off due to a twisted ankle, Cas had returned looking like he had taken several mud and blood baths, while still fully clothed.

He had snapped his fingers and removed all the dirt off his body and clothes, but you still had insisted he should take a shower, and he had understood it as he should take a shower in your room.

Well, there were worse things.

And as an angel he probably didn’t mind that your shampoo which you had offered to him smelled of grapefruit and not of something manly like… mountain smoke or something.

The TV was running in the background, but you hadn’t been paying any attention to the program, your focus instead on the grey trench coat Castiel had discarded on one of the beds.

Eventually curiosity got the better of you and you got up, limping over, to the coat and lifting it up. It was heavier than it looked, you realised, the fabric smooth under your fingertips and it smelled… of nothing really. Hm, you had always assumed it would smell like Castiel by now, but maybe he didn’t have a proper scent about himself. He was a celestial being after all. But what about his vessel?

Before you could continue wondering any longer, the sound of water getting turned off in the bathroom alarmed you, and you dropped the coat back onto the bed and limped over to your chair.

A moment later, Cas opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out. He was dressed completely in his suit again, making you assume he had put it on with a snap of his fingers. Did the angel even know how to tie a tie? He looked strangely… naked without his coat on. That was when you saw his hair was still dripping wet.

“Did you not dry your hair,” you asked, with furrowed brows as Cas stepped out of the bathroom and begun crossing the room.

“I like the smell,” he said, making you furrow your brows even further.

“Of your wet hair?”

“Your shampoo,” he corrected. “I don’t want it to go away. It’s my favourite scent.”

“It won’t go away from you drying your hair,” you told him, getting up again and limping over to the angel. “Did you even wash out the shampoo?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to.”

“Because of the scent?”

Castiel nodded only.

“Want me to help you dry your hair,” you offered even though you knew he could probably just snap his fingers and his hair would be perfectly dry and styled.

“Please,” Cas answered to your surprise and sat down on the bed, patiently waiting for you to grab a towel from the bathroom. You knelt on the bed behind him and wrapped it around his head, rubbing over his dark hair.

It felt strange, feeling how alive he was underneath your hands, and it was even stranger considering it was Castiel, who always behaved so coldly and redrawn from normal life.

“So… you like grapefruit,” you asked, trying to break the growing silence by smalltalk.

“Not especially,” Castiel answered, sounding indifferent as always.

“Hm? I thought it was your favourite scent,” you inquired.

“Not grapefruit, your shampoo,” Cas corrected you.

“But it is grapefruit scented.”

“I don’t like it because it’s grapefruit, I like it because it’s what you always smell like,” he explained, making you freeze. What? “I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, not… not uncomfortable,” you disagreed, slowly continuing to rub the cheap hotel towel over Castiel’s hair. “Just… surprised.”

“Why would you be surprised,” he asked curiously. “I thought it was rather obvious that I feel attracted to you.”

“Not really, no,” you admitted, trying to think of any time the angel may have expressed attraction towards you.

That time he had beamed you wordlessly back to the motel room you had shared with Sam and Dean after you had been stranded at the side of a road? The time he had woken you up, showed you that he had bought you pie and then had disappeared? Or the countless times he had woken you up from a beginning nightmare? It would be a lie to claim these instances hadn’t raised your interest in him, but it had never occurred to you, that he might have done it out of a special feeling of care towards you.

Castiel sat quietly for a while before asking: “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me,” you asked back.

“That I care for you.”

For a moment, you thought his words through. Castiel was an angel, and even though he had lived amongst humans for a while now, he still sometimes struggled with the nuances of human communication.

“You care for Sam and Dean, too,” you eventually answered, still not entirely sure whether his understanding of ‘caring for someone’ had the same romantic meaning as yours. “So no, it doesn’t bother me.”

“It’s different,” Cas disagreed. “Yes, I look after Sam and Dean, I don’t want them to get hurt. But it’s different with you… It seems like you constantly occupy my mind and even the thought of the possibility of you getting hurt- it, it scares me.”

Slowly you let the towel you had used to rub his hair dry sink to his shoulders.

“I feel the same way about you,” you admitted, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Surprised he turned around to you. “You aren’t mad?”

“No,” you chuckled, looking down on him, his beautifully blue eyes widened and a hint of a smile tucking at his lip. “But I also don’t know what to do from here on out.”

“What do people usually do, who care for each other,” Cas asked, honest curiosity in his question.

“They… they start dating, I suppose,” you answered, absentmindedly running your hand through his hair. It was still not completely dry, but soft between your fingers.

“Then let’s do that,” Cas decided, smiling at you encouragingly.

“Do you even know what dating means,” you asked amused. Not the kind of conversation you had expected yourself to have tonight, but also not unwelcome.

Cas hummed thoughtfully, turning his head away from you and leaning back so his back was resting against your front. He was warm, even through his suit, and his hair smelled off your shampoo.

“I have a basic understanding of what dating includes,” he answered, “as for the rest,” he turned his head again, looking up to you sitting behind him, innocence but also a certain mischief displayed on his features, “I’ll just hope you’ll teach me.”

[prettybillycore]

A Girl in the Men of Letters || Thomas Shelby x Winchester!Reader

Pairing(s): Winchester!Reader x Thomas Shelby, Minor Dean Winchester x Castiel

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Supernatural 

Summary: When Dean and Cas’s daughter (Reader) is left home alone in the bunker, she discovers a door that leads to the dangerous world of 1920s Birmingham. It doesn’t take her long to meet the one and only Thomas Shelby, who is quickly captivated by her Winchester charm. Will Reader fall head over heels for Tommy too or will she recognize the dangers of the Shelby family and stay away?

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: unprotected sex (p in v), age gap relationship (reader is in their 20s and Tommy is in his 40s), fingering, swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking, alcoholism 

A/N: WOOO! My first smut??? Are we really here??? Oh my god….

Read it here under the cut or on AO3

You were never supposed to go snooping around the bunker without your dad, his boyfriend, Castiel, or your uncle, but when did you ever listen to the rules anyway? You were an adult, you shouldn’t have to follow rules set by your dad all the time. It felt silly and childish. Yet, here you were, sitting by yourself in the bunker, not doing anything.

Since Castiel had gone missing, and the angels were out to get your family, your father pretty much kept you under lock and key. You were in the library, staring at another book about angelic lore and the words were no longer making sense to you. You slammed the book shut and groaned in annoyance. Uncle Sam and your dad had been gone for five days so far. You were starting to go stir-crazy. This is what led to your exploration of the bunker alone. 

A lot of the doors in the bunker were unexplainably locked. They had been since before your family had arrived at the bunker. You and your family had no idea how to open the doors, and after some monsters crawled out of a previously locked one, your dad forbade you from opening any that didn’t open on their own. What your dad didn’t know is that you found an old key ring a few weeks ago stashed in one of the boxes in the library when you were researching vampires with Uncle Sam. Now that no one was here, you could actually see where they might lead. The last locked door that opened was an accident. A witch from the 1980s came through the door and gave your family quite the trouble. Eventually, Uncle Sam and your dad were able to catch her and dispose of her, but not before she nearly took you out with a few of her spells. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of the new locked doors, but you hoped it would be something to spice up your days.

None of the keys on the ring you found were labeled, so you just had to guess where they might fit. You hoped they fit into any doors at all. You would hate if you went to all the trouble of hiding the key ring just for the keys not to open any of the doors in the bunker.  The first door you tried was at the end of the hall where your bedrooms were. It didn’t unlock with any of the keys, so you moved on to a door near the entrance to the kitchen. No luck there, either. You were becoming slightly frustrated, but you pushed forward. Two more doors down another hall didn’t open. You were starting to think maybe your worst fear was true, that the keys didn’t open any doors in the bunker at all. That is until you tried door number five. The first key didn’t work, and neither did the second. However, when you placed the third key up to the lock, it slid perfectly. The sound of the key turning and the mechanism unlocking filled your heart with excitement. Finally, there was going to be something to do while your Uncle Sam and Dad were gone. Surely, your adventure into this door wouldn’t be more than a few hours. They wouldn’t even know you were gone in the first place. You pushed open the door with all your might and were disappointed when you were met with a small, dark coat closet. Really? A coat closet? You thought to yourself. Was this all there was to it? Just an entryway into someone’s dusty old coat closet? You thought surely there had to be more to it, so you filed through the coats hanging up. They were women’s wear and what you assumed was stylish for the time period, though very different from your regular clothing. You could hear muffled talking coming from somewhere on the other side of the closet, and you were just dying to know what was out there. You took one look back at the bunker before slipping on one of the coats and a pair of creme-colored high heels. 

On the other side of the coats was a large wooden door; the detailing looked old and pretty. The door itself looked old and heavy. You shut yourself into the closet, leaving the bunker behind, and walked forward into the new door. You opened it slowly and quietly, not knowing what was going to be waiting for you on the other side. You jumped out of your skin when you were almost immediately met with the sound of a woman’s voice. “My my, the men of letters don’t usually send women; what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice was raspy yet smooth, with a thick accent that you couldn��t quite place. She was sitting in a chair across the room from the closet. She was eying you closely. She may have sounded somewhat friendly, but she was definitely still assessing whether or not you were a threat. She was older but still had a fire in her eyes. She was smoking a cigarette and was waiting patiently for an answer. 

You dusted off the front of your coat, not that it did you much good, in an attempt to look more presentable to the woman in front of you. Of course, she thought you were from the men of letters; they must have some connection to every place the bunker leads. “There have been some issues within our organization and so some of our records have not been kept orderly. I’m here to check up on how things are going.”

She seemed to believe you. “Dreadful. I hate the man they usually send anyway. It would be much nicer if they sent you from now on. I’m guessing I’ll need to fill you in on some of our operations since your data has been lost?”

You nodded. “That would be wonderful, Ms–”

“Everyone around her calls me Aunt Pol.”

“Duley noted. That would be wonderful, Aunt Pol.”

You now noticed the second presence in the room you were in, who Aunt Pol had been talking to while you were in the coat closet. A man, leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette, much like Aunt Pol was. He caught your attention immediately. He was decently older than you, you being in your early twenties, but that didn’t really seem to matter. His eyes were a crisp blue like the sea and his hands were worn in the same ways yours were– what years of hunting will do to you. “You’re free to leave, Tommy. This is women’s business,” Aunt Pol said with a smile. 

Tommy blew the smoke out of his chest. He eyed you carefully. It was a look you recognized from your work. He was trying to get a read on you. “I’d like to hear what the lady has to say for herself, and I’d love to know how you explain our business, Aunt Pol,” Tommy replied. He took another puff of his cigarette. 

The air was heavy with smoke now. You did your best not to let the smell bother you. Aunt Pol smiled at you this time. “Why don’t you have a seat–”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk business? Tommy, you can stay if you so please,” Aunt Pol gestured vaguely to the couch across from her spot in the chair she had been perched in. 

Tommy began to walk over from his place near the exit. “I wouldn’t miss this meeting for the world,” he said.

| < ♥️ > |

After your meeting, you let yourself fall into this world. There was something charming about Tommy that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His voice was smooth, and his accent was thick. You found yourself hanging on every word that came out of his mouth. Aunt Pol was quick to notice your feelings toward Tommy, but she said nothing. She was curious how it would all play out. You were now in a pub, your system buzzing with cool liquor. You were no stranger to drinking. You had been drinking since far before the legal age of twenty-one. You were barely past twenty-one now, but that didn’t matter with Tommy, not with him, not within this pub. The legal drinking age was definitely lower, and no one even questioned your presence in the space. What you did notice people questioning was Tommy being seen with someone substantially younger than himself. You felt the creepy eyes of the older patrons of the pub tracing your curves. You grimaced and tried to drown the feeling in whiskey, something you learned from your dad, but it wasn’t really working this time. You and Tommy were standing at the countertop, receiving free drink after free drink from the barkeep. He was no fool. He also noticed the looks that you were attracting from around the bar. No one dared look at him the wrong way, but that didn’t mean they left his dates alone. Wordlessly, Tommy wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He was almost using his body to block yours from view. His fingertips ever so slightly pressed into your skin. You felt heat rise to your cheeks but said nothing. Another drink was placed in your hand as soon as you finished the one you had. 

“Tommy!” A voice cut through the crowd. “Who do you got here?” You turned your head to look at the person speaking, but Tommy’s arm kept you from fully turning around. Two men were looking between you and Tommy: a younger man with a cigarette in his mouth and a slightly older man with a thick mustache. “Does she have a name?” the younger one asked. He was the one who had originally called out to Tommy, too. 

“Boys, this is Y/n. Y/n, these two are my brothers, Arthur and John,” he explained. 

You smiled at them both. “Lovely to meet you.”

John grabbed the cigarette from between his teeth and grinned. “Where did you find a fast woman like her? Don’t see her type around the city often.”

Tommy’s eyes darted around. No one was paying much attention to the brothers’ conversation. “Would you believe the Men of Letters sent her?”

Arthur laughed. “Those bastards sent an angel like her? What changed?”

“New management,” you said with a smile. 

“I’ll drink to that,” John replied. 

Tommy gestured to a door off to the side of the bar. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

“Agreed. It’s crowded out here tonight,” Arthur started. 

“Probably all the patrons staying extra long to gawk at your girl, Tommy,” John said with a laugh. 

You felt Tommy’s fingers grip your hip a little bit tighter at John’s words. You were surprised by his interest in you. It was no surprise that you were interested in him– he was everything that a girl could dream about. Handsome, powerful, rich, and mysterious? Sign you up. However, you found his interest in you a little shocking. You didn’t know what he could possibly see in you. Still, you didn’t mind being the object of his affection for the time being. You were interested to see where it would lead you.

| < ♥️ > |

You and Tommy were the last ones in the pub. Even his brothers had long gone home. Tommy was behind the bar, pouring himself yet another glass of whiskey while you leaned on the countertop. Your whole body was fuzzy, and your heart felt like it was about to burst every time you made eye contact with Tommy. The alcohol in your system was not helping how much your little crush was affecting you. His eyes trailed up and down your form. “What? What are you staring at?” You asked.

He seemed slightly taken back by your boldness. “You’re the only thing to look at in here, love.” He took a small sip of the drink in his hand. 

“It’s late,” you started, “I should be getting back home.”

Tommy shook his head. “No can do, Dove. Aunt Pol is definitely asleep by now. Your only option is to spend the night in Birmingham.”

“But where would I stay here?”

“Well, seeing as you are drunk and we’re the only ones left in the pub, you can spend the night at my house. I’m not letting you go anywhere else alone. It’s too dangerous,” He said. His mind was already made up. 

“I guess I will accept your invitation then, Tommy. Lead the way whenever you’re ready,” you replied with a soft smile. 

| < ♥️ > |

Tommy insisted that you take his bed, and he would take the couch, no matter how much you protested. He showed you to his room; it was quaint and quiet. The only noise that could be heard was a bit of movement from the world outside. You shrugged off the coat that you had stolen from Aunt Pol’s closet all those hours ago. You could feel Tommy’s eyes watching you closely. You didn’t feel like there was much to show– you were wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts with one of your dad’s flannels draped around your shoulders. Still, Tommy’s eyes searched the little bits of your skin that had been revealed. You pretended not to notice. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay. It’s very kind of you.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out in the cold, Love.” His words were simple, but you could tell that he genuinely meant them. 

“I’m not sure what exactly I’ll wear to bed. I didn’t plan on spending the night here,” you replied. Tommy had already put on a nightshirt while you used the bathroom when you first arrived at the house. His eyes flicked between you, and the shirt draped across his chest. 

Without a word, he pulled the shirt up over his head. He held the fabric out to you, a small smile on his face. “This looks like it will fit you,” he said. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes scanned over his bare chest. His muscles were toned, and his skin was scarred and tattooed. A familiar warmth rushed to your core at the sight. Tommy’s appearance utterly took you. You didn’t know where to look as you took the shirt from his outstretched hand. Everywhere felt like too much, but your eyes settled on a tattoo on the upper part of his chest. “Oh, that? I have tattoos older than you, Love.”

You smiled at him. “I have one tattoo myself.”

“Really? Care to share?” He asked.

You, without much thought behind the action, pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the anti-possession tattoo that graced your chest. Every hunter needed one; you were no exception. That didn’t matter to Tommy, though. His eyes traced your newly exposed skin. With the hand that had the shirt in it, he reached out and traced the inner circle of the tattoo, taking a step closer to you. His breath was quiet and steady. Yours was louder and more breathy. This did not go unnoticed by Tommy. His hand moved from your tattoo to your upper arm, gently pulling you closer to him. “Tommy?” You questioned quietly.

“Hush, Love,” he replied. He brushed your hair out of your face with his hand and leaned in, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your stomach was doing flips, but you chose to ignore it. You dropped the shirts in your hands and wrapped your hands around his neck, losing your fingers in his hair. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy slowly backed you up toward the bed. When your legs hit the edge, you squeaked in surprise. He chuckled lightly at your reaction. Tommy gently moved his hand to your back and guided you down onto the bed, only briefly breaking the kiss. Once you were properly on the bed, Tommy positioned himself over you and connected his lips to yours again, even more passionately than the first time. His hands were on either side of your body, trapping you on the mattress, but you didn’t really mind. You placed your hands back in his hair, ever so slightly pulling on the ends. He nearly growled at the contact, moving his lips from yours to leave a stream of kisses on your neck. “T… Tommy…” you moaned as he started nipping at the skin on your sweet spot. 

He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips. He would do anything to hear it again and again and again. He continued his exploration of your upper body, biting not hard enough to leave marks but just enough to make you moan his name. He pulled away for a moment and sat up; you whimpered at the loss of contact. “You can’t be making pretty sounds like that, love… That’s dangerous…” He helped you sit up just enough that he could take off your bra. As soon as it was off, his eyes were exploring the newly exposed skin, hungry for more of you. “Fuck… You’re gorgeous…” The words rolled right off his tongue. He didn’t even think about it. You blushed slightly at the compliment. Suddenly feeling slightly exposed, you tried to cover your chest with your hands and arms. Tommy instantly wasn’t having that, he grabbed each of your arms and pinned them to the bed. “Don’t hide from me, Y/n… I want all of you.” His face was only a few centimeters from yours, the words hushed, almost just a breath that came out of his mouth. 

“Okay…” You replied quietly, still feeling a little unsure.

Tommy caught on to your nervousness, moving his hands to be next to yours instead of pinning them. “You’re okay, Love. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

You shook your head, “No. I want this. I want you…” Your blush grew, but you didn’t attempt to hide your face. You kept your eyes trained on Tommy’s.

He smiled softly, gently connecting his lips with yours again. One of his hands moved to your face, cupping your cheek. The kiss was passionate but gentle. You smiled into the kiss, hardly able to contain how happy you were to be experiencing this, to be experiencing Tommy. He broke the kiss and began working to unbuckle his pants. You blushed even redder at the idea of what was coming next, but you were thrilled. He threw his pants and boxers to the side, and the sight of him nearly took you out. His hands found their way to your hips, and he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, his eyes flicking up to yours. “Are you okay with this, Love?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

He made quick work of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them somewhere else in the room that didn’t matter to either of you. He chuckled a little bit at the sight of your underwear. “My… Someone’s wet…” He teased, gently rubbing your core through the thin fabric. You couldn’t hold back a moan. “All this for me?”

He quickly maneuvered his fingers underneath the fabric, finally making contact with your dripping center. “Fuck Tommy…” you moaned as he began to move his fingers.

“Oh yeah? Does that feel good, Love?” 

“You feel so good, Tommy…” You breathed. 

“You are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen… keep making those pretty little noises and saying my name, Love…”

“T… Tommy…” You mumbled. It was almost hard to hear you said it so under your breath.

“You can be louder than that, Love,” he stated. 

“I need you… inside me…” you moaned. He pulled his fingers away almost instantly, and you whimpered again at the loss of contact. “Tommy…”

Without a word, he pulled your underwear down your legs and threw them into the dark abyss of a room. He lined himself up and looked you in the eye. “You’re sure?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Tommy. Please… Please, for the love of God, fuck me…”

He chuckled lowly, almost growling. “I think God left us a long time ago, Love…” With that, he slowly pushed himself inside you. He gave you a couple of seconds to adjust before he began moving, but it felt so good it didn’t even matter once he started. Your moans quickly became louder and closer together. You couldn’t hold them back.

“Fuck fuck fuck… Tommy…” The words tumbled out of your mouth like a prayer.

He looked at you, his eyes dark. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Y/n…”

“Fuck… Tommy, I’m close…” You whispered, feeling your climax building.

“Me too,” he replied in a similar hushed tone. “Cum for me, Love.”

You moaned again at his words, feeling the knot inside your stomach build and then release into the best orgasm you think you’ve ever experienced. You were breathing hard, and Tommy wasn’t far behind you; you felt his cum enter you. After he finished, also breathing hard, he let himself drop down on top of you, laying his head on your chest. The room was quiet, and you felt at peace with Tommy lying on you. You ran your hands through his hair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You close your eyes, feeling the most relaxed that you think you’ve ever felt. There was just something about being with Tommy that made you feel safe. His breath slowed and steadied; yours did, too. You let yourself fall into a deep, peaceful sleep in Tommy’s arms. 

| < ♥️ > |

The next morning, you awoke with Tommy’s arms wrapped protectively around you. He was still asleep when you woke up. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and soft. It was the first time that you had seen him look truly peaceful. You smiled at his resting form. He slowly opened his eyes, raking them over your exposed skin before meeting your eyes. He smiled back at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve seen him actually smile. “G’mornin’.” The word falls from his mouth. His accent was thick with his morning voice. God, this was a sound and sight you could get used to. 

“Morning…” You replied, a soft look gracing your features. 

“How are you, Love?” He asked. 

“Good. I could stay like this forever.”

The idea brought that smile back to his face. You wanted to see it over and over again. “You’ll have to come back the next time the Men of Letters have business with us. I’d be happy to have you as my guest again.”

“That won’t be difficult… The Men of Letters like me a lot…” you lied through your teeth. You felt a small pang of guilt for lying to Tommy after you two had become so close, but you knew you couldn’t tell him the whole truth… there was no way he would believe you. 

“I can see why,” He mused, gently playing with the tips of your fingers.

“All the screaming stops when I’m with you…” you said quietly. 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What screaming?”

“I’ve seen a lot,” you started. “I’ve seen a lot of people die. I’ve heard a lot of screams, a lot of death rattles. Normally, when I lay in bed and close my eyes, I hear the screams of all the people I couldn’t help or I couldn’t save, but… with you, the world is quiet. I don’t hear the screams anymore…”

You assumed Tommy continued to play with the tips of your fingers in an attempt to comfort you. It was a sweet gesture that made your heart go soft. “I can’t hear the shovels when I’m with you, so I guess we’re even.”

“The shovels?” You asked.

Tommy sighed. “Troubles from my time as a soldier… I always hear shovels coming against the far wall. Usually, they break through before the sun rises, and I am jolted from my sleep, but not last night… not with you.”

“I’m glad I could bring you a little bit of peace,” you replied, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I could get used to waking up next to you…”

Yet again, Tommy flashed a smile at you. It made your heart swell. “We’ll have to do this again sometime soon.”

“I would love that,” you returned his smile. He gently placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and getting himself out of bed. The lack of warmth saddened you that this caused, but you were made curious by Tommy sticking his hand out toward you. You sat up in the bed and reached your hand out to his. He swiftly pulled you from the bed into a warm embrace, his arms draped around your midsection, his forehead leaning on yours.

“We should get you back to Aunt Pol’s house,” Tommy said in a hushed tone. “Get you home. You’ve already been here much longer than you originally planned. Someone on the other side of that door is bound to be worried about you.”

You sighed, leaning up, stopping just before your lips touched his. “Just one more kiss for the road… something to remember the night by…” you said before grabbing him by the back of his neck and smashing your lips onto his. 

| < ♥️ > |

You hung the coat you had taken back up; you felt like it was only right. You could hear Aunt Pol and Tommy talking through the door. You couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying, but you could hear Tommy’s low, raspy tone through the wood. It made it so hard to leave. You let out a soft sigh. What was the harm in staying a little longer? You were about to walk back out into Aunt Pol’s sitting room when you heard voices on the other side of the Bunker’s door. Your heart nearly stopped. Your family must have gotten back from their hunt. You quickly opened the Bunker door and fled through it, fumbling to lock it behind you with the keys. “Y/n!” Your dad called, “Y/n, we’re home!”

Once the door was shut and locked, you brushed off your pants and briefly ran your fingers through your hair, trying to make sure that you looked presentable. When you felt ready, you ran down the hallway and made your way to the main area of the Bunker, a large smile on your face. Your dad and your Uncle Sam both were smiling brightly at you as they came down the stairs. “Oh, Y/n, there you are,” Sam said, still beaming. 

“Sorry, I was all the way in my room… What’s got you two so happy?” you asked, genuinely curious about their current state.

“We have a surprise for you,” Dean replied.

“Oh?” You questioned.

“Come on in!” Dean called.

Suddenly, Cas was standing directly in front of you; his smile was also wide. “Castiel!!” You cheered, engulfing him in a hug. Since he and your dad started dating, he has become like a second father to you. You had been so worried about him since he had gone missing, and you were thrilled to have him back. He hugged you back tightly, his arms wrapped around your back, gently swinging you side to side. 

“It’s good to see you, Y/n… I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

“I’ve missed you too… so much… I know my dad has too…” You pulled back from the hug so you could look him in the eye. You couldn’t stop the huge grin on your face. “This is a huge win for us. We have to do something to celebrate having Cas back.”

“Drinks are on me tonight. Do we feel like going out, or do we just want to get something from the store and watch a movie or something?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands together. 

You laughed. You knew his go-to was to get a drink, but he hardly ever bought you a round when he had one. “I’m included? I’m honored,” you teased.

Your dad rolled his eyes. “So what are we feeling?”

“Probably safer to just get something from the store and stay in,” Sam replied. His face looks a little more gloomy than it did before. “Going out would be fun, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk right now.”

Dean sighed. “I hate that you’re right.” Dean ran his hand through his hair. “Cas and I will run and get drinks from the local convenience store, and then we can all have some and pick a movie to watch together. Sound like a plan?”

“So I’m still trapped in the bunker?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Dean let out another sigh. “We’ve been over this–”

“You were just talking about going out to a bar, and now I can’t even go to the store?” You snapped back. “I am tired of being in here. These walls get boring after a while, Dad.”

“Guys, let’s not do this,” Sam intervened, “We just got Cas back. This is a happy moment. It’s safer for you to stay in the Bunker, Y/n, but I’ll stay here with you while Dean and Cas go get the drinks, so you're not alone this time, okay?”

It was your turn to sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay here. You better bring back something good to drink.”

“I always pick the best drinks!” Dean replied.

“Untrue,” you responded, completely deadpan. 

“Cold,” your dad answered. “Come on, Cas. Let’s go.”

| < ♥️ > |

You, Cas, Sam, and Dean drank mostly beer and sat around the Bunker’s TV, watching movies into the early hours of the morning. Things felt almost normal again. You missed this; you really missed Cas. Now that he was back, things were starting to look up again for Team Free Will. You waved goodnight to everyone around 3 am and headed for your room. It was about the same size as the other bedrooms in the bunker, but you had really taken the time to make it your own. You had painted the walls your favorite color; there were thrifted decorations lining the walls and a cozy comforter covering your bed. You turned off the overhead light and turned on your bedside table lamp as you got ready for bed. You changed yourself into your pajamas and decided you wanted to run to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

On your way to the kitchen, you pass Tommy’s door. You stopped at it for a brief moment, thinking about the events of the last day, and you blushed. You missed Tommy already, but you knew it would probably be a while before you could see him again. Your family was all back in the bunker, and they were definitely going to notice if you disappeared for hours on end. What you weren’t expecting was a soft knock coming from the door. You almost thought you were mistaken, that the sound wasn’t real… but then it happened again. You sprinted down the hall, back to your room, and grabbed the keys to the door as quickly as you could without being too loud in your footsteps. You fumbled briefly with the keys as you tried to open the door but eventually managed to unlock it and quietly pulled it open. On the other side, you were surprised to see Tommy. He looked tired, slightly bruised, and bloodied, though you had no idea what from. “Sorry to bother you at home, Love,” he said, his voice deep and grainy. 

You looked both ways down the hallway. There was no signs of life. No one else in the bunker seemed to have been stirred by the knocking. You were in the clear (at least for now). You grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him all the way into the hallway, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not a bother. Never will be. What happened to you?”

The door shut quietly, leaving you both standing in the bunker. Tommy looked out of place. He didn’t fit the aesthetics of the bunker at all, but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest. He was perfect in your eyes, even if he was from a different time. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “I just needed to see you after the day I’ve had.”

Without saying anything else, you pulled him along quickly, taking him to your room. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in when the door shut behind you both. Tommy chuckled. “Based on how you’re acting, I’m assuming we’re not alone in this place.”

“Far from it,” you replied. “My parents are here, as well as my uncle.”

“Oh Christ…” Tommy muttered. “So your whole family are Men of Letters then?”

You felt another pang of guilt, similar to the one you had felt last night. You hated that you had to lie to him, but you felt like it was the safest option. “Something like that.”

“We’ll just have to be extra quiet then…” Tommy said. He closed the gap between the two of you, resting his hands on your hips. He pulled you closer by your hips, his lips hovering over yours. The only sound that could be heard was the noise of you both breathing. You put your hands on either side of his face and took the plunge, connecting your lips to his. One of his hands instantly started to slip under your pajama bottoms, causing you to moan quietly against his lips. He pulled away slightly, putting the pointer finger of his free hand up to your lips. “Quiet Dove… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us…”

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. “Y/n?” A voice called through the heavy wood. It was your dad. Your eyes went wide. 

“Fuck!” you whispered. “You have to hide.” Tommy pulled away from you, and you were so close to whimpering, but you did your best to hold it together. “Just a second!” you called through the door. You grabbed Tommy by the hand and led him over to your bathroom. “Go in and lock the door. Turn off the light.”

He didn’t argue with you, though you could tell by the look on his face that he had some thoughts about your plan. You shut the door behind him and watched the light turn off from the crack under the door. You did your best to straighten out your clothes and hair before putting a smile on your face. You walked back over to your door and opened it, greeting Dean with that smile. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

“Everything alright? I could have sworn that I heard someone else’s voice in here…” 

You gulped. “What? No… There’s no one else here. Just me getting ready for bed. I did have my TV on, though. Maybe that’s what you heard?”

Dean’s eyes searched your face. You knew he was trying to read you to see if you were lying. You held your ground. “Yeah, maybe that’s all it was. Let me know if there’s any trouble though, alright, Y/n?”

“Of course, always…” 

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Dean replied with a yawn.

“Goodnight!” You shut your door behind your dad and locked it, taking a big deep breath when you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore. Tommy let himself out of the bathroom, chuckling softly at your performance. 

“I can’t believe you would lie to him like that,” Tommy teased as he walked over to you, resting hands back on your hips. “Where were we?”

You cupped his cheek, smiling brightly at him. You hate that you had to hide something as big as a lover from your family, but there was something about Tommy that made you not care about any of that. When you were with him, you could just be you. Not a hunter, not a Winchester, just you. “I believe you were about to kiss me again, Tommy…”

You smiled before he leaned down, once again connecting your lips to his.

-- END --

tags: @anijamess @weaponizedvirtue @deanwinchesterbrainrot