#flexible sam winchester

[samanddean76]

Title: Icing On The Cake

Ship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Word Count: 979 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: None Apply

Tags: Flexible Sam Winchester, Happy Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Sam Winchester Has A Large Penis, Yoga For The Win, Kinktober 2024, Nude Photos, SPN Kinktober Prompt: Nude Photography

Summary: Dean was looking for something in Sam's room and discovered a stash of photographs that had been taken when Sam was at Stanford. (Yeah, this is going where you think it is...)

Written for @spnkinkevents October 15th Kinktober prompt of Nude Photography.

Story on AO3.

[shallowseeker]

My favorite new thing is that even when Cas was having a psychological breakdown, he still found a way to rag on Sam about his annoying personality.

[homoangel]

fucking when sam?

[sam smoothly avoiding being made fun of for doing yoga]

[sleepyangelkami]

COSTUME s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.4K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - this is my first ever time writing about sucking dick, please be nice to me, i'll cry.

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you had to dress up as an FBI agent with the winchester brothers. you felt stupid in a costume but luckily for you, sam really liked seeing you in a skirt.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, oral(s!rec), no p!v sex, size kink, praise kink, fingering, slight manipulation, reader lowk flexible, cum eating, messy sex, squirting, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"come on, y/n, we gotta go!" you heard dean's not so gentle knock against the bathroom door as you slipped on your last mary jane shoe.

you weren't usually chosen for tasks like this.

usually, it was the winchester boys that did all this kind of thing, you know, fraud? you were usually just the researcher, sitting in the motel room as back up, with a laptop perched on your lap or sitting in baby, the key inside and waiting to be their getaway car.

you weren't really hands on when it came to being a hunter.

you never really had to go out into the real world for much. but this particular demon was snatching girls, twenty something year old girls about your age and appearance. the brothers thought it would be best if another girl accompanied them when investigating the missing girls' roomates and not two six-foot men dressed in suits.

dean's head turned as the creaky bathroom door opened. "I feel stupid."

his eyebrows raised to the tips of his forehead, a look of shock passing over him as he cleared his throat with a breathy laugh. "wait 'til sammy sees you." you just gave him a confused look before grabbing the pretty pink purse that sat on the bed. "aah-ah." you look up at dean confused. "kind of ruins the whole FBI vibe, don't you think?"

you eyed the purse in your hands.

it was a little bag, hardly able to hold anything other than your phone and your lipgloss, not that you ever had to worry about holding your wallet when you had the boys around but nonetheless, a card was wedged in there too.

it was pink with darker pink flowers on it and a ribbon attached to the strap. sam had gotten it for you after a case that you worked particularly hard on.

but dean was right, it didn't fit the whole 'FBI vibe' so you sighed and placed it back on the bed, passing the man an unhappy glance.

sam was outside, sitting in the passenger seat of the infamous impala named 'baby' by dean. he'd packed and started the car, waiting for the two of you when you caught his eye.

or should he say, your outfit.

you often wore pretty little sundresses or blouses and skirts paired together with a pretty cardigan drawn over you. but this? This seemed awfully different to your usual attire.

the white blouse was a little too low for comfort and he could tell by the way you were pulling it up over your cleavage that you agreed. your black pencil skirt was high, too high with a pair of long black stockings that stopped just above your knees paired with the infamous mary janes that you wore with almost everything.

sam was staring.

"what are you wearing?" was the first thing he asked when you and dean got into the car. "what is she wearing?" he turned back to dean.

you owned the stockings and the mary janes before hand but the rest of the outfit? it'd been dean's job to pick it out (which was no wonder you looked like... that.) "dude, she has to play the part."

"yeah of an FBI agent not some sexy stripper cop." sam spoke, exasperated.

"thank you!" you beamed from the back seat before your eyes furrowed. perhaps your boyfriend hadn't been complimenting you at all.

sam passed you a glance through the mirror but was more focused on blaming his brother. how could he let you go out looking like that for everyone to see? how could he make sam watch you while his pants tightened and his bulge was on show?

you thought the interviews went smoothly. you sat down with most of the women. the college women who's roomates had gone missing. dean was too busy fraternizing with the college girls to care about the case anymore and sam... well sam had seemed a little distracted from the beginning.

he couldn't rip his eyes away from you. you sat so perfectly, pieces of hair falling into your face as you nodded and sympathised with the women, asking them questions and jotting down notes onto a little notepad you had found in the backseat of baby.

sam was staring at you, at the way he could see the outline of your boobs down your shirt or the way your plush thighs protruded from the fabric of your stockings.

he was in awe.

it was hard to focus on anything other than you, which is why he had to excuse himself to talk to the headmaster instead of being stuck in a room with you, too close.

he was your boyfriend, it wasn't as if you hadn't done things with him before. on the contrary, you did... many things with sam before. but this was borderline unprofessional, the way he let his thoughts run.

he could imagine sliding his hands beneath your skirt or listening to your little gasps when he touched your skin, barely grazing it. you were so easily led like that, so audible and obedient. he could imagine unbuttoning your shirt slowly, with you sat on his lap while whines fell from your lips, whimpers following shortly after.

he needed to stop thinking.

or better yet, he needed to fuck you until the thoughts stopped.

dean decided he was going to check out the last spot that the college girl had been taken, assuring you both that he wouldn't be back before dinner. but the wink he shot his younger brother told him that he was merely giving you both alone time because he was no stranger to the look in sam's eyes.

and this was when sam got selfish.

honestly, the motel wasn't that far from the college so you and sam opted to walk back. the air turned brisk and for a split second, sam was about to offer you his jacket, the way he always would.

he thought it was rather adorable, watching the way you nuzzled into the jacket that was far too big for your frame. he was six foot five after all, you drowned in anything he let you wear.

but he found himself feeling selfish. he selfishly liked the way your perky breasts looked in that pretty blouse and the way your plush thighs could be seen peeking out from between the skirt and the stockings. he couldn't stop looking, couldn't tear his eyes away and stop his imagination from roaming.

so he let you walk back to the hotel, keeping a slight distance behind you so he could watch your body as he pleased, the only sound between you two being the click-clop of your mary jane heels as you walked home.

when you finally got inside, you felt yourself sigh in thought.

sam had been acting awfully quiet since you'd left and you'd begun to worry that you'd done something to upset him.

perhaps the outfit was too revealing, perhaps he wasn't okay with it.

you turned, an apology already on the tip of your lips. "sam―"

before you could utter the words, sam had grabbed you. his lips pushed into your own, a kiss filled with no passion or love, you could taste nothing aside from thick hunger, half a growl from inside his throat.

you whimpered into the kiss, taken by surprise. you felt him grab at you, one hand slid up your back, the other grabbing the back of your head and a fistful of hair along with it. again, a noise escaped you while sam was mindlessly kicking off his shoes, guiding you towards the bed.

to say you were surprised was saying the least, you hadn't expected this.

when he sat you gently against the bed, he finally broke the kiss. you looked up at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips while he tugged his suit jacket off, not bothering to take off his tie completely but only loosen it so it didn't hang so close to his neck. perhaps now he could finally breathe.

your eyes followed him curiously as he bent down, eyes never leaving yours while you stayed sitting on the mattress. you felt his hands pawing at your legs, slipping your mary janes from your feet. his hands gently rubbed at your sock-covered feet, a little reminder of his gentleness, despite the roughness he was suddenly using on you.

his fingers trailed upwards, following the little sewing thread between the fabric of your stockings. when his hands reached the top, he snapped the fabric back, leaving it snap against your thighs. "you're keeping these on." he uttered, he didn't sound like he normally did. he sounded as if he were pent up, desperate for relief. and he was.

you just couldn't seem to understand why.

"sam, why are you―"

you were cut off. "you're jus' so pretty all dressed up, honey." sam was towering over you as he stood, his large hand falling on your face, practically taking up a whole cheek as he cupped it. "'n i was hard all day thinkin' about this. you do wanna make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?"

he watched as your eyes seemingly got rounder. "i wanna make you feel good, sammy." you caught your bottom lip between your top teeth and he could tell you were being honest, so honest.

willing to do anything to make him feel good, his sweet sweet girl. he would have cooed at you had he not been busy using his thumb to pull your bottom lip from beneath your top teeth. "don't do that, baby." he watched as you nodded silently. "good girl, i'll give you something to wrap those pretty lips around, don't worry."

he could see your face slowly building a flush, that kind of blush that had him reeling. he liked when he got you like this, all flustered and squirming. which you were, squirming in your seat with your thighs pushing together.

sam was well aware that if he were to reach up your skirt now, he would find a little wet circle sitting on your satin panties.

but instead, he used his hands to pull his own trousers from him. they were sitting tightly on his hips and when he finally pulled them down, you could see his bulge sticking out from his black boxers.

you gulped, hands playing together in your lap. you wanted to look back up at sam but you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from him, too engrossed by his dick to think of anything else.

"'s how i felt all day, sweetheart." his voice was a whisper now. "you were teasin' me 'n i couldn't do anything about it. do you know how mean that is?"

your eyes snapped up to his, filling with this red glassiness. "w-what?" you didn't want to be mean to sam. he was so good to you, always making you feel good, you wanted nothing more than to be good to him. "'m sorry sammy, 'm really sorry."

"awh, i know, baby." his thumb swiped against your cheek, playing around with your face as if you were dough, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "you just wanna be my good girl, yeah?"

you nodded quickly. "mmhm, wanna be your good girl, sammy, 'm sorry. 'm really sorry."

"i don't know, you were very bad today." his constant teasing as only making your panties wetter, that tone he was using on you, the one that he knew got you all flustered. "if i give you a second chance, are you gonna be good?"

"uh-huh, 'be so good, sammy, i promise. please, ill be good." you were begging now, eyes as big as saucers and lips wet.

he didn't bother pretending to think about it, he just leaned down, so far that his face was in line with yours, lips against your ear as he softly whispered the words, "then get onto your knee's 'n show me."

when sam winchester told you to do something, you did it, no questions asked.

you'd touched him like this many times before, you on your hands and knees on the mattress while he stood on the ground. he thought it was the most comfortable spot for the both of you, seeing as he was so big.

you did as you were told, moving so you were on your hands and knees against the mattress. your hands moved up to his waist, eyes snapping to his. he watched you intently as you brought your lips to his clothed cock, pressing a pretty kiss against it before using your fingers to pull down his underwear.

you did it without fail every single time.

every time he had you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, you started off with that pretty kiss to his boxers. there was something sickly sweet about it that had his eyes already rolling backwards. it was almost an innocent and naive act of love towards him, laced with lust.

you were on just your knees now, pushing his boxers down with no help from him. his dick sprung free and you could see an idle line of precum dripping down his shaft. instinctively, your hand moved up, thumb swiping the precum and smoothing it over the head of his dick. the act alone caused a grunt to leave his lips.

as pretty as you looked, all curious and ready to take your time, sam simply wasn't having it tonight.

he was too pent up from your silly outfit and his own mindless thoughts that he couldn't help it.

his hand fell to the side of your head, cupping it as he guided it forward. you knew what he was asking and you wasted no time in sticking out your tongue and licking a kitten lick up his shaft.

"fuck," fell from his lips. "good girl." mumbling as your tongue swirled over his head and your mouth wrapped around his dick. sam was a huge man and his dick was no exception to that. he was huge, too big to fit in your mouth but you pushed him in anyway, only covering a little more than half.

sam knew he was big too, he couldn't help the quirk of his lips as he looked down at you, struggling to fit his size into your mouth. his hand slowly guided your head further onto his cock, letting your lips wrap around him completely, your saliva coating him. it wasn't until you gagged that he knew this was as far as you could go.

so he pushed you a little further, anyway.

you brought your head back out then in again, bobbing it as you tongue swirled against him. you were no stranger to sucking sam off but every time you did it, you found yourself getting nervous. you wanted to be good for him and you were doing your upmost best.

his pretty thing.

"fuck, baby, you're doin' so good f'me." and sam knew exactly what effect his words would have on you. "mmph, look so pretty with your lips around my dick, sweetheart."

you couldn't help but moan on his dick.

and his lips quirked into that sickly sweet smile.

he knew how easily you got wet, how all it took was just a few words and you were a moaning, whining mess. sam thought you deserved a little more for all you were giving him than just a little praise.

and like said before, sam was huge so he reached over, his torso towering a little above your head and his arm reached out, soothing down your lower back.

this wasn't the first time sam had pulled something like this. you knew what to do, stomach sinking onto the bed as you rolled your ass into nothingness, wanting to create some kind of friction while your mouth continued to slowly melt around him, licking and sucking, eyes closed as one hand pumped the part of his dick that your mouth couldn't reach.

you felt his fingers tracing the outline of your satin underwear, pulling up your skirt so he could gain access.

you made a noise of complaint, knowing that if he touched you, you wouldn't be able to focus properly on touching him. sam only used his free hand to push your head onto his dick and make you gag again.

he liked watching you fall apart, especially with his dick stuffed in your mouth.

he loved watching the way your body had to bend for him to be able to stick his fingers into your gaping whole, watching as you desperately rolled your hips, wanting him him him. you wanted to feel him. taste him. smell him. he was all consuming, you wanted him to take over your every sense.

and he always did, without complaint.

you were wet, undeniably so, he could feel it through the satin material that he pulled back, getting access to your aching pussy. "there you go, sweetheart, tha's it." while easing two fingers into your hole.

you felt like a slut.

he had you completely and utterly full.

"'s that nice, baby? y'feel so warm." both with your mouth against his dick and your soaking wet hole. "you're so pretty for me, you know that, angel?"

he knew you couldn't respond, only whining and whimpering against his throbbing cock. "you're my good girl, aren't you?" he felt you whine, vibrations spreading through him and he also felt your pussy squeeze against his fingers. he grinned at that. "you like that, honey? like thinkin' about how you're my good girl, yeah? all mine, baby, you're all mine."

and you really were. before sam, you wouldn't look at a boy sideways let alone be like this.

you groaned into him, ass rolling against his fingers while your own free hand moved down. you continued sucking his dick while using your nimble fingers to play with your clit.

and that was enough for sam to let out a moan. "oh, baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself while―shit―sucking my cock."

your eyes rolled back, feeling of pleasure coating you while your soft lips bobbed up and down, fingers tracing him and yourself.

"'m gonna cum, sweetheart." a warning, though he knew you wouldn't move anyway. "you gonna be a good girl 'n cum on my fingers while you suck my cock, huh, baby?"

he felt you absentmindedly nod, too fucked out to think straight while feeling a familiar knot deep in your stomach.

your whines got louder and he felt himself nearing the edge. the sight of you, blissed out while sucking his cock, his fingers stuffed into your hole making you feel all full... he couldn't help but let go.

at the same time, he felt your gummy walls clenching around his fingers, wet juices sliding down his hand while spurts of squirt left your pussy every time his fingers pumped in and out of you, riding out your high.

"good girl, good girl. that's it, baby. oh fuck. yeah, my good girl. there you go." he was in awe, watching you squirt around his fingers, the wet feeling as it spurted out from your pussy, decorating the bedsheets in your juices while your pretty socks got ruined in the mess.

when he finally finished, he pulled his fingers out of you, letting you lean back as you parted your lips to show him his cum all over your tongue, spread messily in your mouth.

his hand was on your face, eyes strained on your mouth as he watched you close your lips and swallow like the good girl you were, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip.

he pushed his two fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. while your eyes rolled back, all fucked out and dumb.

"think we have some time before dean gets back, yeah?" eyes already scanning your body and letting his imagination get the better of him.

he just watched your blissed out face nod, cheeks flushed. "mmhm hmph."

he wasn't done with you just yet.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

[wendichester]

˙ 🧘🏻‍♀️ ༘ ⋆｡˚ blissful stretching,

summary. sam's new favorite hobbie is watching you work out (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 637

notes. sam gets a little worked up, intimacy implied .ᐟ

Sam shouldn’t be staring. He knows this. But knowing and doing are two entirely different things, and right now, he’s failing miserably.

You’re in the middle of the library, yoga mat stretched out, your body moving with a grace he finds impossible to look away from. It’s not like this is the first time he’s seen you workout after a hunt—he knows how you like to unwind and this sometimes helps—but today, something about it feels different. Or maybe it’s him.

The curve of your legs as you fold into a deep stretch catches his attention first. Long, toned, perfect. Your hips tilt as you shift positions, and the subtle sway makes his throat go dry. His book is open in front of him, but it’s a lost cause, forgotten an embarrassingly-too-long ago. His eyes are glued to the way your body bends and flexes, the tension in your muscles visible under the thin fabric of your leggings.

When you lean forward into a new pose, your chest pressing against your thighs, the dip of your waist and the arch of your back are too much. His hand drags over his face as if that will somehow erase the images now permanently burned into his brain. You're just so flexible.

He lets out a shaky breath and shifts in his chair, his jeans feeling tighter than they should. He tries to focus on the book in front of him, but the effort is half-hearted at best. His gaze lifts again, like he has no control over it, drawn to the sheen of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. He could just lick it off of you.

Your lips part as you exhale slowly, the sound soft but enough to send a jolt through him. He loves the little sounds you make. He catches himself biting his bottom lip, his fingers flexing like they’re itching to reach out. You move into a downward dog, your ass lifting high, and he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he leans back in his chair.

Get it together, Winchester.

But he can’t. Not when your shirt rides up just enough to reveal a strip of skin above the waistband of your leggings. Not when the curve of your spine leads his eyes lower.

You move into a plank, arms trembling slightly as you hold yourself steady. Your breaths come heavier now, each exhale accompanied by the faintest puff of air through those soft, parted lips. His hand clenches into a fist on the table, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost picture you in a different scenario, making those sounds because of him.

When you finally sit back on your heels, brushing a stray strand of hair from your flushed face, you glance his way with a small, innocent smile. It’s his undoing.

He’s out of his chair in an instant, striding toward you with a purpose that makes your smile falter into something more curious. He crouches beside you, his hand moving slowly, deliberately, to trace the curve of your waist. The touch is featherlight, but it sets every nerve in your body alight.

“Oh,” Sam murmurs, his voice low and thick. His finger follows the line of your hip, teasingly slow. “You’re all warmed up now, huh?” His lips curve into the faintest smirk. “Guess we can finally get started.”

Your breath hitches, your pulse racing under the weight of his words. His fingers continue their path, gliding along your thigh now, the intent clear despite the casual tone in his voice.

“Sam,” you whisper, unsure whether it’s a plea or a warning.

His other hand cups your chin gently, tilting your face toward his. “Relax,” he says, his voice soft yet commanding. “I’ll take it from here.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is abducted by a family of cannibalistic hillbillies while he, Dean, and reader are investigating several decades' worth of missing people.

Warnings: Cannon violence, talk of kidnapping and crime, cannibals, cursing, detailed blood talk, again all cannon violence and so forth. Dean and reader bickering like friends or idiots in love you decide 😊

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool , @onlyangel-444 , @seninjakitey , @mystic-mara , @mxltifxndom , @stilesxreid , @chaotic-luvrs , @tiggytaylor

Word Count: 10,711

The Benders

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true,” Mrs.McKay points out, positioning herself closer to her son. Even in the dark living room, the curtains closed to block the bright sun, they looked alike, with similar big brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“Mrs.McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities,” Sam acknowledges, looking quite intimidating in his Sheriff get-up, the large brown jacket adding to it all. I’m glad I don’t have to be stuffed into those jackets, they don’t look super comfortable or flexible, and having to wear a khaki button-down was restricting enough. Somehow button-downs always wind up being tight for me in the chest area, this time no different. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so….” Dean adds.

“It’s okay if it sounds crazy, we’d rather get the full story,” I finish. The young boy looks at his mother for approval before answering, “I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asks.

“It sounded like…” he hesitates for a moment, either scared or worried we won’t believe him, “a monster.” His mother rolls her eyes and purses her lips, crossing her arms across her chest she says, “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla Vs. Mothra,” Evan answers. A wide, beaming smile places itself on Dean’s face, “That’s my favorite Godzilla movie,” he excitedly tells the kid, “It’s so much better than the original, huh?” He’s so cute when he gets all excited like this.

“Totally,” Evan nods, his eyes wide in that sweet childish way. “Yeah,” Dean nods to Sam, “He likes the remake.” A small laugh escapes my lips, of course he would take any chance he could get to poke fun at his brother. “Yuck!” Evan exclaims, causing me to laugh more. Sam glares at his brother, clearing his voice he gets us back on track, “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr.Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car,” he answers, looking a little scared again. “Then what?” Sam pushes.

“It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like?” I ask carefully.

“Like this…whining growl,” he answers and I make a mental note.

Sam nods, “Thanks for your time.”

I sip my Shirly Temple, a perfect mix of cherry syrup and soda. Meanwhile, Sam sips a beer before me, and Dean plays darts just behind me. Surprisingly he didn’t really touch his beer, I figured by now he would be on his second, but no he was just a little more than halfway done with his first. I wonder if it has to do with our conversation the other day, not that I didn’t trust him when he drank. I hope he knew that. I just didn’t like drinking, and bars weren’t my favorite place but as long as I was with others then I was fine.

I push my hair behind my ears and with it push those thoughts out of my head, “Okay, so, local police haven’t ruled out foul play because there were signs of a struggle,” I inform, looking down at the research papers that Sam had circling him.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig,” Dean says, another dart swooshing past.

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam points out, rearranging the papers so that he could push his Dad's journal closer to me and subsequently Dean, “Dad marked this area.” Dean looms closer, standing right behind my chair with his hands on the back of it; his hands dangerously close to my exposed arms or more specifically, shoulders. It isn’t a big deal I remind myself, it was perfectly normal in fact. I took off my cardigan because it had gotten warm in here so naturally with the short-sleeved dress I was wearing my arms were exposed.

He leans forward slightly, peering at the book from above my head, his body heat radiating around me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker,” Sam continues.

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes at night,” Sam explains, “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too–” he turns to a different page, “this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“Alright, that’s weird. But if that’s the case how aren’t there more leads on any of these especially if there’s a pattern?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers truthfully.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, Phantom Gassers,” Sam reminds, “They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow,” Dean plans.

“Right,” Sam says as he pulls out his brown leather wallet, “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean says, holding his hands up, “Let’s have another round.”

“We should get an early start,” Sam counters, placing a twenty on the table.

“You’re very responsible,” I point out.

“Someone has to be,” he smirks, sassy as always.

“Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?” Dean remarks. I turn around in my seat to peer up at Dean, he meets my eyes looking down at me, “I’m pretty sure you could still have fun at a motel,” I say, confused. I mean motels were fun, sort of, as long as there were no bed bugs and it was like a game of ‘how poorly designed will this be!’ Dean cocks an eyebrow, a devilish smile on his face, “‘That so?” he eyes me, teasing me.

The implications of my sentence hit me…I laugh nervously, “No...I mean…cause, like, I didn’t me…I mean–” I stammer but his smile only widens. I whip my head towards Sam for help but he’s also smiling, “You’re on your own with this one,” he shrugs. I turn back, slowly, to Dean to find him still staring, “You know what I meant” I say.

“Do I?” he counters. My face feels all warm, I hear Sam’s chair move and the collecting of papers. He was leaving me! My nervous laughter continues as I try to come up with something but it’s broken letters that leave my mouth instead, I stand up abruptly, tugging down the skirt of my dress as I do so, “I’m gonna go…”

He removes his hands from my chair, and I grab my cardigan, throwing the soft material on. I meet his gaze again but this time he’s just smiling softly. “Wait for me, sweetheart, gotta take a leak,” he says, finished with his teasing. “Ok,” I answer, and he heads to the back of the bar. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself I would have commented on his gross choice of words, but I did so instead I down the rest of my sweet drink.

Hardly two minutes later Dean is back, he throws his jacket on and swings an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side as we head to the front, “So, about that motel…” he tries to continue his teasing.

“Dean!” I groan, “Stop, alright I get it was funny, whatever, it’s over now.” He laughs, swinging open the door for me. I roll my eyes, he was never going to let this down.

The chill Minnesota air cools down my warm cheeks as I exit the bar, Dean following behind, “No, no, I think you were on to something, sweetheart,” he muses and I can hear that stupid smile on his face. I turn around swiftly, facing him, “I am going to beat you up,” I threaten despite the smile on my face. His stupid, cute, smile drops all of a sudden, his eyes somewhere over my shoulder. I frown, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes focused behind me, he moves around me and I spin around immediately noticing the cause of his changed demeanor. There’s no Sam. He’s not by the car at all, and if he went back into the bar we would have seen him. I follow Dean to the Impala, my tall boots clicking against the asphalt, he picks up something from the roof holding up his Dad’s journal which Sam had in his possession when he left. That’s not good.

I pull my phone out of my cardigan pocket, immediately scrolling down to Sam’s contact. Dean opens the car door, peering inside before shutting it and shaking his head. I click call, waiting impatiently with the phone to my ear, it rings a couple of times before going to voicemail. “Frick,” I redial his number and this time it goes straight to voicemail, was it shut off? Why would he shut it off?

I shake my head at Dean, this was bad.

Dean moves away from the car asking a drunk couple by the bar, but they have no answer. I call his phone again as if this time would be different, but it isn’t.

“Sam!” Dean suddenly yells, frantically calling for his brother. “Sammy!”

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Greene?,” Deputy Kathleen asks, looking at our fake IDs. She didn’t seem so amused as she looked at us with those piercing grey eyes. “We’re working a missing persons,” Dean answers, worry still etched on his face.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police,” she acknowledges, perhaps growing suspicious.

“No, we’re here about another missing person. ‘Could be related though,” I reply. Dean adding, “It’s my cousin. We were havin’ a few drinks last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?” she asks logically.

“Sam?” he scoffs, “Two beers and he’s doin’ karaoke.”

“He wasn’t drunk. And the time frame in which he was left alone was far too short for any wanderin’ off, if by chance he was intoxicated more than my partner here witnessed,” I inform, adding on. Dean looks at me with a little surprise, as if I wasn't capable of being serious and professional which was stupid because I knew more about criminology than he did and as of right now we had to look at this in that frame of light. Kathleen nods, moving to her computer and turning it halfway so that we could see too, “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester,” Dean answers.

“Like the rifle?” she asks somewhere between skepticism and amusement. “Like the rifle,” he confirms.

She types away, pulling up his police record, and she scans the file before clicking on Dean’s file (thank god there were no pictures with it). “Samuel Winchester, so, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder.”

Memories of that hunt creep into the back of my mind. The slimy remains of its shedding, his hands on my neck, losing my abilities to iron…Dean’s awkward laugh knocks me out of my thoughts, “Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family…Handsome, though.” I try hard not to throw a look at him, even now he still has to be cocky. “Uh-huh,” she hums, not amused. She types something else in, bringing up more results on the computer, “Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway,” Dean informs.

“Uh-huh, she hums, “The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m thinking the camera picked up whatever took him…or, whoever” he corrects with a smile.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let’s do this the right way,” she goes to a filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, “Why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here,” she hands Dean a clipboard. “Officer, look, uh, he’s family. I kind of–I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you,” he reasons.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she answers.

“Sam’s my responsibility. And he’s comin’ back. I’m bringin’ him back,” he says again, this time more demanding than pleading. But she shakes her head, “I’m sorry” she repeats moving away from us.

“The first 72 hours of a missing person's case is the most important!” I call out and she stops in her tracks, “We know Sam didn’t just run off, so we can eliminate the statistic that in 48 hours he will show up,” but still she doesn’t turn. “In this case, 72 hours would be lucky, you know considering the fact this county has had no leads and has yet to find a single person related to the serial kidnapping going on,” she turns and stares at me with a frown.

“So for all of our sakes and our jobs, let’s say a safe 48,” I continue, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the second you go over that time the chances of you finding the person, let alone alive, is extraordinarily low. It is currently,” I look at the clock on the wall, “9:36 am,” I meet her eyes again, “So in less than 30 minutes we will be down 13 hours. Now I don’t think I have to do the math for you to understand how badly you are screwed,” I challenge, “Now, how long do you think you have before the feds get involved? ‘Cause I’m sure that will look just great for you.” I know I’m being harsh but I’m also being entirely serious.

She sighs, nodding, “Okay.”

Dean picks at his nailbeds as we wait on a bench across the street from the County’s Work Department. The bright sun shines down on us making his dirty blonde hair glow. I place a hand over his, he needs to break this habit, “We’ll find him,” I say softly. He shakes his head, “You said it yourself, every minute that goes by the chances of finding him–”

“But we’ll find him,” I cut him off. Maybe being positive about this wasn’t the most logical thing, we don’t know how big of a lead we have yet and if it’s nothing then we really are screwed. I know the odds are not in our favor, but to remind him of that wouldn’t help either.

“Greg, Kayla,” Kathleen says from behind, using our fake first names. We turn to her, getting up from the bench we were waiting on, “I think we’ve got something,” she hands us printouts of traffic cameras. “These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds. As part of the Amber Alert program,” she explains, “These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.” But it's just images of a dark road with no one on it but the soft light of street lamps illuminating the pavement.

“This really isn’t what we’re looking for,” Dean voices.

“Just wait, wait—next one,” she insists. He turns to the next image, tilting it to show me the image of a rusty run-down truck driving down the road, “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing. Now, look at the plates.” He turns the page again, this time the image is a close-up of the back of the truck or more specifically the not rusty or old license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It’s probably stolen,” Dean points out, confirming my thoughts.

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved,” she adds and I'm ever so glad this lead was something. Maybe we could let other officers know to be on the lookout for it.

Suddenly there’s the horrible noise of a loud grumbling and whining engine passing by, I cringe at the screeching noise, looking up to find a beat-up van stopped at a red light. “Hear that engine?” Dean asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble, trying to resist the urge to cover my ears. He looks at me, meeting my eyes, “Kind of a whining growl, isn’t it?”

My lips part. He was right. He didn’t need to say any more for me to understand exactly what he meant, it’s what Evan heard. And if we assume that the rusty truck on the cameras is involved, they might even make a similar noise considering they're just about the same on the beat-up level.

The squad car rolls down the highway, Kathleen in the driver's seat pointing to a passing traffic camera, “Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…”

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere,” Dean finishes her sentence, adding, “I didn’t see any other roads here.”

“Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads,” Kathleen points out. I sigh, “That’s not very helpful,” now we have to figure out how to narrow it down with no other information. Dean grumbles something, looking out his window while I keep my eyes trained out the windshield trying to think of our next move.

Kathleen clicks something on the little tablet on a stand, in the corner of my eye I see her look at us strangely. I drop my eyes to the tablet, picking up on enough words to know it was trouble for us, I unbuckle myself swiftly, thanking my past self for choosing to sit in the middle and that this was a squad car meaning there wasn't the gate between the back and front. I lean forward my hips hitting the end of the center console as I practically weasel myself between the passenger and driver seats, my hands flat on the front of the console. My hair curtains my face but even so I can feel both their gaze on me, just like I wanted.

I don't know how much she was able to read the document but it doesn’t matter now as I carefully lift my pointer finger, hands still flat on the console, towards the tablet letting just a little spark of energy leave my finger and interfere with its programming. I push my hair out of my face, her eyes drop to my chest which was practically pushed out and perfectly visible in this position, I laugh lightly, “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

I lean back, sitting on the edge of my seat putting my arms on the end of the console near me but close enough that it frames my boobs perfectly. Her eyes had been following my movement back through the rearview mirror, even girls were guilty of staring. Her eyes finally drag up to my face and I smile sweetly at her in the mirror, tilting my head a little for extra measure, her eyes drop down again before she blinks looking away from the mirror. She blinks again shaking her head as if it would shake the image away, “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I ran your badge numbers. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

I curse internally, so much for a distraction. “And, um,” she continues, her eyes dropping to my chest just one more time, “uh, they just got back to me,” she pulls the car over to the side of the road, “It says here both of your badges were stolen. And there’s a picture of you both,” she turns the tablet. Dean looks at her shocked before dropping his eyes to the screen, his face falls with confusion as we both stare at the same thing, “It’s blank,” he points out and I have to hold back a smile at my work. She turns the tablet towards her, confused, she hits the thing and of course it doesn’t make a difference. “Well it was a picture of a heavier African American male and a (different ethnicity than you) female,” she explains instead.

“I lost some weight,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, did he really think that was going to work?! Kathleen takes off her seatbelt, “Okay, would you both step out of the car, please?”

“Look, look, look,” Dean spews quickly halting her movement, “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate. But, first, please—let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who either of you are. Or if this Sam person is missing,” she counters.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this,” he reasons. But she scoffs, “Identity theft? You’re impersonating officers.”

“How much do you care for your people? Those who live in the county?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. “You can bring us in now, sure, but there’s still someone out there kidnapping and likely murdering people. And we are your best chance of finding them, we got you this far.” She purses her lips, shaking her head firmly.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Dean tries, “When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast—please,” his voice breaks, “He’s my family.” He was putting it all out there, he wasn’t the emotional type let alone with a new person like this, but he was more than worried

“I’m sorry. I have to take you in,” she says her gaze elsewhere. But then she frowns, sighing, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “After we find Sam Winchester.” She fastens her seatbelt and Dean looks at me confused but I just shrug, maybe it was better if we didn’t question it.

Despite Kathleen's clear distrust for us, she did suggest stopping for coffee before continuing our search. I cradle my to-go cup between my palms, the sun perfectly warm on my skin and the wind in perfect time with a cool breeze now and then. “Hey, Officer? Look, I don’t mean to press our luck,” Dean starts.

“Your luck is so pressed,” she retorts and her remark makes me laugh. She throws me a sharp glare and my smile drops, burring my face behind my cup as I take a sip.

“Right. I was wondering…why are you helping us out, anyway?” Dean asks, “Why don’t just lock us up”

Kathleen frowns, rounding the car as she answers, “My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but…” she sighs, “nothing…I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone.” The memories seem to flash in her pupils, her gray eyes hardening again. It was like seeing her in a different light, I think in the rush of this hunt we, or rather I, forgot that she was more than her badge she had her pains and losses like us. I make a mental note to apologize later for my previous harshness, I know I could’ve been kinder and that’s true with or without this newfound information.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening the driver's door, “Let’s keep at it.”

****

We drive close to the edge of the forest on the lookout for private roads, but tree after tall tree there is nothing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean suddenly says, “pull over here. Pull over.” And despite Kathleen's questioning gaze, she abides, pulling the car over and onto the soft grass beyond the shoulder.

We get out of the car, getting closer to the tree line. “You guys stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kathleen commands leading us into the forest.

“No way,” Dean scuffs.

“Seriously,” I reason, “You have no idea what you're walking into, you could use our help.” I mean did she really want to walk in alone?

“Hey,” she stops before us, preventing us from going further, “You’re civilians. And felons…I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You’re not goin’ without us,” Dean answers firmly. She stares at us as if to see how serious we are when finally she sighs, annoyed, “Alright. ‘You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean half shrugs. I nod, “Promise.”

“Shake on it,” she challenges, extending her hand. Dean and I raise our hands for a shake, but jokes on her for a promise to be serious you need to pinkie promise. She raises her other hand to extend to mine at the same time. She's firm with it when cold metal clinks against my wrist immediately followed by another clink against Dean’s. We’re cuffed to each other. I stare at our cuffed hands confused, the joke was supposed to be on her, not on us. And it certainly was on us. “Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles.

Holding on to the links between each cuff, she dragged us back to the car; no amount of dragging my feet was helping. She uncuffs me twisting both my hands behind my back, holding firmly with one hand as she puts the other cuff through the door handle pulling it back up and on my wrist; leaving Dean and I both trapped to the door handle. It was hard to be totally mad when it was quite clever. Now satisfied with her work, she walks back into the forest, “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you’re gonna need our help,” Dean calls after her.

She lifts a hand, beeping the car locked as she throws back a, “I’ll manage thank you.” I watch her leave until I can no longer see her past the tree line, I still can’t believe she tricked us. “That was an interesting show you put on before,” Dean says, leaning against the car door, apparently not too concerned about our current position. “What do you mean?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“What do I mean?” he mocks, “Oh I don’t know maybe the,” he places his free hand below his chest lifting an invisible boob, “‘I thought I saw something’” he says in a girlish voice. I give him a pointed look and with my free hand I hit his chest, he drops his hand laughing. “One, I did not sound like that! Two, I was not doing that, and three! I was tryna save us, she had pulled up incriminating evidence and I figured I could distract her enough to buy us time.”

“Well she still got us,” he points out, green eyes dropping to our cuffed wrists.

“Yeah I know, it was more of an in-the-moment thing and it worked better in my head,” I reason.

“You got the distracting part right though,” he responds, his voice slightly lower. Maybe it was the stupid bickering or the fact he had teased me last night that brought up enough confidence to ask, “Are you insinuating you were looking too?”

His eyes snap up to me his cheeks looking warm, “What?! No, no, I wouldn’t…I–no.”

I smirk though my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and my heart is rapid against my ribcage, I open my mouth to say something clever when I hear the screeching of tires, “Never mind that” I say quietly instead. With my free hand, I hold the cuffs using very little energy to unlock them. I smile triumphantly, discarding the cuffs to the grass. “You’re lucky I don't just leave you here,” I point out.

He looks taken aback as he scuffs, “You wouldn’t.”

I purse my lips, “But I could’ve, I really could’ve.” He scuffs this time with more humor as he rolls his eyes, “Right. Let’s go.” He leads the way, walking quickly into the forested area.

We pass by wagon wheels strewn across the overgrown grass, followed by a rundown barn. Dean carefully opens the creaky barn door, exposing the dark inside to the shining sun. The barn reeks of sweat, and a combination of human and animal waste. The light creeps in behind us revealing at least four cages with thick metal bars, the cage wasn’t too wide and couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Either way, it was solidifying the idea that this had to be the correct place because why would cages like these be in a rundown barn? And…there were figures inside said cages, very human figures. “Sam?” Dean calls out as we approach. Then they become more than dark figures, Sam smiles from his crouched-down position. “Are you hurt?” Dean asks even though he didn't look harmed, sweaty and dirty, yes, but not harmed.

“No,” Sam answers. Dean grins putting his hands on the bars, “Damn it's good to see you.” 

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” A now familiar voice asks. Dean and I seem to turn around at the same time, and I’m taken aback by Kathleen’s appearance. Her dark hair was down, cascading down her shoulders only making her blue eyes more entrancing, the khaki button down she wore as uniform was gone leaving her in a dirty white t-shirt, black splotches on it as well as some on her skin accompanied by a bloody bruise in the corner of her forehead. 

“Oh, she knows a trick or two,” Dean answers with a playful smile, “Speaking of which, you should do it again.”

I force a tight-lipped smile. “Right.”

I approach the door of the cage where Sam is held, the thick, heavy lock resting in my hands. The lock looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon, its surface cold and unsettling. As I clutch it, an eerie emptiness spreads through me, a hollow sensation that chills me to the core. The memory of an iron bar around my neck flashes through my mind. I drop the lock as if it burned me, stumbling back. I rub my hands down the sides of my legs, trying to erase the lingering coldness. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eases, replaced by the familiar warmth of my abilities flowing through my veins. “What’s wrong?” Dean and Sam ask in unison, Dean’s hand suddenly gripping my upper arm.

“Iron,” I manage to get out around the cotton that seemed to fill my throat, eyes focusing on the barn floor. He curses under his breath before he steps in front of me, blocking me from the other's view. He squeezes my upper arm silently asking me to look at him, I meet his eyes the familiarity of him easing the leftover panic. “‘You okay?” he asks quietly enough for only us to hear. I nod and he doesn’t push me to confirm it verbally, he gives a quick nod in response and squeezes my arm once more before his hand drags down my arm before leaving altogether. Suddenly I miss his touch even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a strange thing when your brain and heart want two different things. My mind pleads for logic, bringing an end to our casual touches to save my heart the grief. But then my heart wants nothing more to latch on to the feeling and exceed just a little more hope. He moves to the lock himself, studying it, “These are gonna be a bitch” 

“Well, there’s some kind of automatic control right there,” Sam points to a control panel on the other side of the barn. 

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Dude, they’re just people,” he answers voice dipped in disbelief. Our hunts rarely ended up being people; with something like this, they must be seriously messed up. “And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo,” Dean remarks as he walks over to the control panel.

“I bet they’re rednecks, and that’s, like, an entirely different breed of human,” I comment.

“How do you know their rednecks?” Kathleen asks as if she’s still suspicious we’re in on this.

“I wouldn’t know anyone else who would keep captured people in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in cages no less. I feel like that has psychotic redneck all over it,” I explain like it’s obvious.

“What do they want?” Dean asks as he clicks different buttons on the panel.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers, “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are certain patterns with humans too, especially criminals,” I explain, “They most likely get off on the thrill of the hunt. They let you go. Give you false hope, and get you running. But like you said it's a trap. You’re just prey to them, they might even have actual traps hidden around as extra measure though it doesn’t matter when they catch you anyway. It’s kind of a whole dehumanizing act too, cages and the hunting like you’re animals.”

All three pairs of eyes stare at me, “What? I thought that was evident,” I shrug defensively.

“...Anyways, ‘see anything else out there?” Sam asks.

Dean creeps open the other barn doors, different from where we came in from, “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden outback. ‘Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

Kathleen scurries closer to the bars of her cage, hands clutching the bars, “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” She looks desperately at Dean. “Yeah, actually, I did,” he answers and she frowns, her chest depleting with hope, “Your brother?” he asks, taking a good guess. She nods, shoulders dropped, something passing in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” he apologies, “let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” he points to the control panel, “this thing takes a key.”

“Then please say one of you, by chance, happened to see the key,” I add.

“No, I don’t know,” Sam answers. I nod, “Right. That’s fun and awesome, we get to venture into the home of serial killers.” I turn on my heels, heading back the way we came, hearing Dean’s steps right behind me. “Hey,” Sam suddenly calls out. We stop, turning around, he adds, “Be careful.” 

My lips curve up into a half-smile, “We will!” I answer enthusiastically. “Yeah,” Dean responds in the only way he knows how. I don’t think he understands that people care and worry about him, especially when he sees himself as the protector I wish there was a way to help him unlearn that and if one already exists I want to know it.

****

I pull myself up, my hands holding firm to the window sill, we were lucky to find an open window. Scooting myself into the dark room, I turn back leaning out the window to take the flashlight from Dean. He lifts himself up and in with ease, taking the flashlight back from me. He flicks it on, scanning the room with the light, revealing shelf after shelf of specimen jars. I move closer to one of the jars, a severed hand with a star tattoo by its thumb floating in the alcohol. “You know what they say, people with tattoos taste bad,” I mumble.

“Who says that?” Dean whispers in disbelief.

“Cannibals,” I whisper back, “They say it makes the flesh taste all weird. They also say the hands are the worst to eat, ‘not a lot of meat there.”

“You think these guys are cannibals too?” He asks, flashlight shining over the various jars and bottles.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrug, if they weren’t then I wonder why they would keep only some body parts but get rid of the others. He nods slowly to the possibility, flashlight gliding over a wall of Polaroid pictures each with the same two boys with long noses, beards, and hats, standing beside a dead body. “I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy,” Dean says pointing to a particular photo, one with them holding Jenkin's corpse. I wonder how late we were, maybe we could’ve saved him too.

Carefully I creep my way to the closed door, opening it slowly just a crack, I peek out viewing the hallway for anyone. I wait one, two, three beats before opening the door more, signaling to him that the coast was clear. I exit the room first, Dean close behind me, I motion towards the old wooden stairs in question and he nods taking the lead once more. He creeps up the stairs careful not to step on something that looks like it would creak, I follow behind walking on my tip-toes for extra measure. The stairs continue up one more level but we stick with the second floor. Reaching the landing we stepped into the living room, the room was grey and dark with no furniture around just a big empty room. I step deeper into the room, the wallpaper is peeling and the room smells like mildew. The only pleasant thing was a soft tune coming from a room nearby, instrumental but not quite classical, a hacking sound interrupting the melody every few seconds.

Suddenly something in the room clacks together, hitting each other repeatedly. I turn quickly to the noise, guard up. Dean moves away from the object he must have hit as he mutters, “What the–.” A windchime of bones hang from the ceiling down by the window, the bones were clean and white–clearly well taken care of, some bones slightly longer but they were mostly smaller bones. I watch as he brushes it off with a slight shiver before moving to a different part of the room picking up a miscellaneous plank of wood. He notices me staring and motions with his head to follow, he leads us to the next room close to the kitchen towards the hacking. We reach the archway and he peeks in before making a hand signal for me to stay where I am as he riskily moves to the other side of the archway.

Perhaps stupidly I take a quick peek before resuming my place flat against the wall, taking a moment to go over what I saw in the quick glimpse. An older man at a kitchen counter, his back to us, nothing reflective in front of him that's visible from this angle, cluttered room, windows bordered up, a bag of tools positioned behind him with at least a meat cleaver in it but guessing by the shape there were more objects- maybe more knives, the meat he was working on wasn’t visible but the likelihood of it being human remained pretty high.

I look over at Dean, some jar full of teeth in his hand, his face scrunched in disgust. “What are you doing?!” I mouth. He puts the thing down on a little stand that stands across from him, and he opens his mouth to respond when the floor creaks behind him, he turns quickly and I try to see behind him with wide eyes but he’s too tall to see anything from this position. I look to the floor instead, trying to look for another pair of feet. I hear him say something softly with his hands raised, but from where I am I can’t hear. Between his own feet, I see small bare ones, perhaps belonging to that of a child.

Then before another beat passes the child says something and Dean is pushed up against the wall with a groan, a choked noise escaping him as he lifts a hand to his abdomen. The girl smiles wickedly, but before her lips can part, I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. “DA–” she manages to get out before I clamp a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes against my grip, knocking me against the little table. Objects rattle behind me, but I hold firm. Dean pulls the knife out of his stomach as he slides down the wall, blood staining his shirt. I force the girl forward, her large matted hair obscuring my vision. She kicks wildly, nearly breaking my hold.

“Okay,” I breathe, “Okay, it’s alright, go to sleep.” I focus, letting my abilities surge, the familiar energy coursing through my veins. It flows down my arms into my fingertips that grip her. 

I reach into her mind, a violent sea of chaotic thoughts and emotions screaming back at me. Her fear and anger lash out like storm-driven waves. I step into it, the wind of internal screams and panic parting for me. I step in deeper, my steps gentle. I echo the words I said out loud to her, my voice soft like a lullaby once lost. The storms begin to quiet. Her physical struggles begin to slow as she subcomes to my soft insistent voice. Her thoughts slow, the waves turning to ripples until they are still. I creep out of her mind, gently lowering the unconscious child to the floor and leaning her against a nearby wall. It was the best I could without harming her and I would not harm a child.

Quick footsteps adjourn down the staircase. I reach Dean, kneeling in front of him, replacing his hands around the wound. He watches me carefully, quietly, eyebrows pinched together slightly. I know I must work quickly. With a breath, the purple glow of my powers seeped into the deep stab wound. Slowly the torn flesh and tissue knit back together, “You’re either gonna have to hurry sweetheart, or stop,” he warns. It was a deep wound and it would take longer than what we had, “But stopping would be stupid, and dangerous especially since you’ve already taken the knife out which you should never do ‘cause it only makes you bleed out more,” I answer quickly. I can practically feel the roll of his eyes without having to look. 

A floorboard creaks a foot away. I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Dean and standing up just as a hard hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly, throwing a punch, my knuckles hitting a hard face. The man stumbles just slightly, loosening his grip on me. A fistful of my hair is pulled, forcing my neck back uncomfortably as my scalp burns. A choked grunt leaves my lips as the person uses my hair to drag me away, with a snap of his wrist I’m thrown to the floor. I land on my hands and knees hard, “Bitch,” the man spits. I get up with a single laugh. He charges at me. I throw a hand out, energy shooting from my hand. He goes flying hitting the wall hard, his stupid baseball cap falling off as he slides to the floor. His long face drops, fear filling his dark irises, he scurries to sit up. “W–w-witch!” he yells with a shaky pointed finger, getting the attention of his partner. The other long-faced man stares at us, distracted, giving Dean the leverage to push the man off of him followed by a punch to the face.

I return my attention to the accusing man. I return my arm to my side, and with a small shrug and a smile I answer, “Guilty.” His face seems to pale, and with a newfound determination, he picks himself up. “Do you really wanna do that? You can stay down,” I offer him. But he snarls and suddenly I’m thrown to the side, a separate body on top of me, my upper arm scraping against the wooden floor. I grunt as the person turns me over and lands a smooth punch to my nose, I catch a glimpse of Dean straddling the guy I had been dealing with serving punch after punch. They had switched people and it worked. Warmth trickles down my nose as I lift my legs around the man and in one fair sweep turn us over. I land punch after punch until a weird metal noise echos against the walls followed by a heavy drop. Stupidly, I look over. Dean’s on the floor unconscious, the tall man who was in the kitchen standing over him with a pan. The dots connect quickly as the man below me pushes me off and stands up with a stumble. I follow his lead and stand up too, wiping the back of my hand below my nose, dragging away blood.

All three men stand together. The one I was just dealing with speaks, “You’re partners down why don’t you be a good girl and give up.” My skin curls, my spine chilling, “Why don’t I rip out your eyeballs and feed it to you’re friends over here, ‘m sure they’d enjoy it,” I reply. The man laughs, “Oh,” his dark teeth exposed, “ I like you.”

My lips curl in disgust, “The feeling is not mutual.” The man in the middle with the pan, the oldest, nudges the man who lost his hat. Silently he moves away, into another room. Now left with two men, I wait for them to make a move as charging them would be stupid and I’d likely be overpowered in seconds. The man returns with a butcher knife and a fire poker. He hands the knife to the other, all three now armed with weapons. The knife and pan weren't much of a worry, not compared to the fire poker. Fire pokers were made from iron, a material made to withstand heat, and apparently witches too. I eye the weapon hoping they could not smell the fear on me like Hannibal.

The two younger men come forward, rushing me. I duck out of the way of the butcher knife, nearly cutting my cheek in the process as I kick the man with the fire poker in the chest. He stumbles and I grab the arm of the knife holder pulling him closer before kicking him in the balls. He bellows as he falls to his knees. The fire poker soars in front of me, one of the little hooks catching on the top of my shirt. He pulls it back, the material ripping slightly and biting into my skin. I turn my attention to him, brows furrowed. He seems to regret his decision as I take a step closer to him. His grip on the fire poker is loose as he takes a step back. I follow after him, easily hitting his wrist. The poker clinking to the floor. Heavy footsteps shuffle behind me. I throw a hand up, flicking it back. Sending the knife man flying. All the while I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. I tilt my head slowly. He throws a punch. I catch it. Twisting his arm until it's behind his back, I walk him a few steps in front of me before throwing him to the ground. 

Suddenly, the eldest man is hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. I stumble back, a familiar memory flashing in my mind. I blink rapidly pushing the memory away just as I’m hit on the side of my face. The pan is suddenly hard against my stomach. I land on my butt with a choked noise. He motions and suddenly the knife man is holding down my arms and the poker man is holding down my ankles. I struggle against their hold. Energy surges in my veins, eyes wide. The fire poker has replaced the pan. He lifts it above his head. Energy is at my fingertips. The fire poker is stabbed through my thigh, through the jeans. A scream erupts from my throat. The energy disappears at once. The room tilts. Everything disappears.

Deep voices flow in and out. The room in blinks. My head spins. Heavy, so heavy.

Heavy eyelids open. Hardly awake. Glimpses of Dean across the room, tied to a chair, his eyes just a bit more aware than mine. 

“Come on. Let us hunt ‘em,” one of them says. My head lulls back, catching a glimpse of the poker sticking out of my leg. My eyes shoot open, suddenly more aware of the predicament. “Yeah, they're both fighters. Sure would be fun to hunt,” the other one adds. Pain surges to my thigh as I sit up straighter, rope binding my hands behind my back and rope to keep my ankles to my chair–matching Dean from what I could see. Their tall frames acted as a wall between us. The eldest laughs a hideous laugh. 

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me. That’s what this is about? You–you yahoos hunt people?” Dean comments, his voice gruff. I huff, “This is one of those times I hate being right.”

Suddenly, the little girl from before, now awake, walks past me knife-drawn. I trace her movements with my eyes. She comes close enough to drag the blade across my cheek in a straight line. I clench my teeth to keep from giving them gratification. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied as blood drips down my cheek, “You having fun there?” I mock. She spits at my feet, all retaliation for invading her mind. The eldest turns his attention on me, stalking closer, “You said you’s one ‘em witches?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply plainly.

“Thought we burned all of ya at the stake.” 

“Guess you missed one,” I muse instead of giving a history lesson to correct his statement. 

“Why don't you show us a trick?” He tests, eyeing me.

“How about I kill you instead.”

“You ever killed before?”

“I can make an exception for you lot,” I answer. He chuckles before turning to Dean, “What ‘bout you boy, you ever killed before?”

“Wh–” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “Well, that depends on what you mean.” 

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the eldest starts, “Just like my father, his before him. I’ve hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once,” he sighs almost dreamily, “Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there’s nothin’ like it. Holdin’ their life in your hands. Seein’ the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful, alive.”

“You’re a sick puppy,” Dean replies.

“You need therapy…” I add, “And jail time.” He ignores our commentary to continue his demented story, “We give ‘em a weapon. Give ‘em a fightin’ chance. It’s kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You’re plenty sloppy,” Dean interjects. Not so much ignoring it he asks, “So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you cops?” he asks.

“If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?” Dean teased. The eldest tenses. The man whom I had scared before walks over to him and punches Dean square in the face. “Only reason I don’t let my boys take you right here and now is that there’s somethin’ I need to know,” the father informs ever so kindly. He turns his back on Dean and stalks his way towards me. “Yeah, how ‘bout it’s not nice to marry your sister,” Dean mocks from behind him. The father doesn't flinch even as I laugh at Dean's joke. Suddenly, he grabs the fire poker sticking out of my thigh, moving it around inside as he keeps eye contact, silencing my laughter. I try not to give a reaction, clenching my teeth until it feels like I might break a tooth. But in one movement he pulls the poker from my leg, my nails digging into the chair, a rugged scream erupting from my throat. The room rattles. Blood gushes from the wound, soaking my jeans. Something on a mantel clatters to the floor. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing my face up. “There it is,” he murmurs, voice gravely, as he peers into my pupils that are no doubt purple. He lets go of my face roughly, he adjusts the fire poker in his hand and I expect him to shove it back in, instead, he moves to the old fireplace near me. I force my powers inward, containing them, I would not be a toy for someone. 

I turn my head towards the man, desperate to track his movements, my chest heaving–breath uneven. With a steady eye, he holds the poker over the fire, waiting for the tip to get hot, “Tell me…any of the cops gonna come lookin’ for you?” he asks, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the side of his grimy face. “Oh, eat me,” Dean responds gruffly, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, you actually might.” One of the goons walks over to Dean and holds his head in place as the father walks over, the hot fire poker at his side. “You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family?”

“Buddy,” I breathe, cutting him off, “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Alright, you wanna play games?” he mocks, “We’ll play some games.” He looks at the others as he announces, “Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,” a horrible smirk on his face. He turns his attention to Dean, “And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?”

“Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody’s comin’ for us, alright? It’s just us,” Dean answers, all humor gone from his voice. But his response doesn’t satisfy the father, “You don’t choose, I will,” he threatens as he places the hot poker on Dean’s chest, right near his shoulder. A deep piercing scream erupts from his throat. I try to lunge at the man despite my restraints, the other goon comes around to hold my shoulders. The father removes the poker. The screaming silents as Dean curses him out, “Ah, you son of a bitch!” He holds the poker hardly an inch from Dean’s eye, “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

“Alright, the guy, the guy! The guy!” Dean yells. The goon holding his head lets go, and the father moves the poker to his side again before pulling a necklace from beneath his shirt, a key dangling from it. He pulls it from around his neck and throws it to the man behind me. He releases my shoulders as he catches it, “Lee, go do it,” the father orders, “Don’t let him out though. Shoot him in the cage.” Lee walks to the door, the key clutched as he picks up one of the many guns by the doorway. “What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!” Dean shouts at the man. But the father ignores him, “Lee, when you’re done with the boy…shoot the bitch too.” Lee nods and leaves.

“Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runin’ out here,” the father explains. I struggle with my restraints again, I would not be useless even as my body works hard to heal the gaping hole in my thigh. But the battle against the simple ropes is fruitless, it's tied too tight and adrenaline is only bringing my energy levels so far. I don’t want to be useless, I could manage the ropes off and get up and fight.

The father spins around, eyes on me. He grabs my chin again, forcefully moving my face as he studies my eyes. “I think we’ll keep your eyes,” he remarks and it feels like a mockery of my previous threat. In a clean movement, the fire poker is shoved back in. It rips through the minute works of healing my body had managed. A scream chokes in my throat. My abilities out at once. “Lo–” a distant gunshot cuts him off. He stands away from me, his face dropping. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all!” Dean yells. The father ignores him as he calls out for his son, “Lee!” No answer comes. “Lee!” he calls for him again and again no answer comes. He turns to his other kids, “Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch ‘em now.” Jared works quickly, grabbing two riffles before handing one to his father. And just as quickly they leave. Missy moves closer to Dean, knife drawn and held dangerously close to his eye.

****

I force my eyes to remain open and focused on the ceiling as I lean my head back. We heard multiple gunshots but it was impossible to know who they hit or if they hit at all. And I was growing tired. I may have my tetanus shot but I’m bleeding out…slowly.

The floorboards creak outside the room with particularly placed footsteps. Missy looks between us before scoffing and walking out of the room. Just out of sight, there's shuffling, something clinking to the floor, a door rushed closed, and the dragging of furniture. Seconds later a familiar tall figure steps into the room, “Sam!” Dean laughed. He was battered and bruised but not terribly hurt. He eyes us, our condition, but doesn’t comment on it as he moves to Dean, easily cutting off the ropes. He rises from the chair, hand pressed to his marked shoulder, hunched over just slightly. 

Both boys cross over to me. Sam kneels, cutting away on the rope. Dean removes his hand from his shoulder, the burn mark looks worse up close and would undoubtedly leave a scar. I’d have to heal him. “Gonna have to pull that out, sweetheart,” he remarks. I frown, “That’ll make it worse.”

“You’re not better off this way,” he points out and I know he’s right…unfortunately. I give him a single nod, grounding my teeth as I await the pain. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns. He wraps his hands around the poker, eyes tracing my face as he pulls it straight out. I groan, biting down on my teeth hard enough to break one. “I am going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass,” I grumble through clenched teeth. Blood drips down the tip of the poker before he drops it to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.  I take several breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself, and with a single thought, I make a roll of gauze, alcohol pads, and a large medical bandage form in the palm of my hand. I handed the small packets to Dean, “For your forehead,” a small cut and dried blood stained the corner of his forehead no doubt from being hit with a pan. 

“You’re not gonna heal your leg?” he asks as I wrap the gauze over the hole in my thigh, blood immediately soaking the bandage. I shake my head, focused on the task and not the pain, “‘Take too long, we’ll have a healing party later.” He seems to accept the answer as he helps me out of the seat, restraints gone. Sam’s hands circle my waist as I steady myself upright, both boys aiding me in the endeavor to walk. We shuffle out of the room that could only be remembered as a part of a torture house. Something bangs on a passing door, hitting the door repeatedly. I spared the noise a glance, it was likely Missy trapped behind the door which would explain where she went and the shuffling before Sam found us.

The porch steps creak beneath our feet. Kathleen emerges from the barn, a thin layer of sweat sticking strands of her dark hair to her face. She walks over to us, meeting us in front of the cannibal house. “Where’s the girl?” she asks, eyeing our condition with careful eyes. “Locked her in a closet,” Dean answers, looking behind the cop and to the barn, “What about the dad?”

She pauses, lips parted, her expression hardening, “Shot. Trying to escape.” She doesn’t have to say anything more for us to know she’s half lying. There’s no doubt he’s dead, the blood splatter on her shirt proving that fact, but during escape was up in the air—not that it matters much to us. He’s dead. Good riddance. 

****

Sam nurses a bottle of water, slowly sipping the contents. He’d gone too long without water and food, we’re lucky Kathleen had at least a bottle in the trunk of her car. Kathleen had moved away from us to call for backup, her figure lingering a couple of feet away.

I gently place a hand over the burn mark near Dean's shoulder, his hand immediately holding my wrist, “You should really work on yourself first,” he points out. I hum in recognition, warmth igniting from my hand and seeping into his skin. He takes a deep breath like his lungs are filling up with air for the first time. “It would scar and a burn mark is harder for the body to heal than just some regular wound,” I reason, the gentle hues of sunset reflecting in his eyes. “There’s a hole in your thigh. That’s not a regular wound,” he argues. I smile, knowing he’s right, “Well I wouldn’t finish by the time we left meaning the chance of the wound reopening is high.” He sighs, “And… the car’s at the police station.”

“Exactly,” I nod, lifting my hand from its place on him. The burn mark was gone, his skin clear and smooth like nothing had happened. “So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour,” Kathleen suddenly says from behind me. I move to the side of Dean, my hands clasped behind my back as if I hadn’t been touching him. “They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re long gone by then,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Dean replies, “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to press our luck, but we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?” 

She gives him a pointed look, “Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car.” 

“Sounds great to me. Thanks,” Sam says quickly, not pushing it further. “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk earlier. I know I could’ve been way nicer,” I apologize, thinking back to my harsh words. “It’s fine, I get it, I would’ve done the same,” she replies and I hope she really does accept my apology.

 “Listen, uh…” Dean starts, “I’m sorry about your brother.” Kathleen swallows roughly, “Thank you,” her eyes tear up, “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn’t really,” she pauses, her words hanging in the air, “Anyway, you should go.” The boys nod and I wish there was more we could do for her as we walk away.

****

“Never do that again,” Dean warns, breaking the silence that had enveloped us on our walk. “Do what?” Sam asks, oblivious. “Go missin’ like that,” he elaborates. 

Sam laughs, “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” Dean deflects, poorly. “Sure, you won’t,” Sam muses. We all knew it was a lie, Dean would go looking for Sam till the end of time. “I’m not,” Dean argues. Sam chuckles, “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves his brother. “Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, kiddo,” Sam teases, using his brother's words against him. I laugh, “He’s got a point.”

Despite himself, Dean laughs too, “Both of you, shut up.”

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Intro

Chapter One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Word Count: 1375

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, assumed unrequited feelings, mild drug use, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

You woke up overthinking. Like continuing a conversation with yourself from your dreams, the thoughts steamrolled you into consciousness. The band was in the studio for at least another week and you had to make sure the anticipation continued to build. You had a call scheduled at nine with the record label, Bobby and some other folks who you knew by name but not by face or voice.

It was going to be a long day.

It had already been a long year and the comeback after the last tour’s fallout had felt like your sole duty. They were still solid, still ready to rock-n-roll, you just had to make sure the press and the fans knew it. You grabbed your phone off your bedside table and got to work without actually getting vertical. You checked your email, the usual rotation of social media and then finally your text messages.

Sam had sent you a link to the podcast he had been talking about the last time you’d been over to his and Dean’s place for movies, which was probably two weeks too late to still be relevant, but you added it to your library anyway. Charlie had gone on a rant about a failed side quest on her latest D&D campaign and then started planning a fantasy getaway for after the tour that wasn’t even completely scheduled yet. You didn’t reply, because you needed more caffeine in your system to keep up with her.

Then there were some random complaints about Ash and Kevin from Dean. Amongst all that there was his usual checking in and an obnoxious picture showcasing the absurd size of Ash’s bong. You groaned because Dean’s eyes in the picture were glassy and amused, but also so, so distracting. His little stoned smile always did things to you.

At least he was having fun while he was laying down tracks.

You looked your fill and then went on to the next notification on your phone. Dean and his band, Phantom Traveler, might be your employers, but they were still your friends and fawning all over the man that a good chunk of the Western world did wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

Not in this lifetime.

Your alarm buzzed, breaking the quiet of your bedroom and the illusion of a lack of responsibility. You groaned and threw off your covers. Now or never, you told yourself, and got up to start your day.

“And with the losses from last time, we need something more than just your word that we are going to make up the difference,” Crowley tacked on at the end of his spiel.

Bobby, who apparently was stuck on the 405, looked like he was going to cuss him out at any moment and you couldn’t blame him. The Zoom call had gone about as well as you had anticipated and it wasn’t over. You had enough experience to keep your face neutral, however Bobby had neither the fucks to give or the interest in maintaining civility.

“How about three platinum albums over the past twelve years?!”

Every corporate stooge winced at Bobby’s indignation, except Crowley who seemed to be delighted about it somehow. 

“We understand that Mr. Singer—- we just want our ducks in a row. Now if we can get Dean on board with some more one-on-one interviews and positive exposure. We think we can hit our pre-sale targets to ensure a longer touring schedule,” Zachariah Adler smarmed on.

“And what would that prove?” Bobby asked, protective of his boys as always.

“That you have your dog on a leash,” Crowley butt in.

“More like workhorse the way you folks are talking about him,” Bobby muttered, though you still heard him over the sound of traffic.

You had to say something. “If— we get Dean to agree, and you get your extended tour. We want more flexibility on the next album. It’s the final one in the contract and if you want Phantom Traveler to remain the face of Crossroads it would be mutually beneficial to give them some room to work.”

“That’s not really your stipulation to make Ms. Y/L/N,” Dick Roman pointed out.

Your face burned with the reprimand, but you held your chin high.

“Like hell it ain't. Anything Y/N says, I say too,” Bobby barked.

Crowley looked bored at that point. And you really didn’t want to butt in or add to your embarrassment. But no one was saying anything.

“Does that work for everyone then?” You looked at these corporate stooges in the digital eye and fought for the band, for Dean. Despite having very little in the idea of the how of it all.

Zachariah spoke first, because of course he did. “If Mr. Winchester were to agree and we see an improvement in image by the end of the year— I think that could definitely be arranged.”

Bobby huffed, but remained silent. 

You watched Crowley’s eyes dance between the other record company execs and the intensity of his mischievousness grew. “I’d love to see how you handle that— get back to me when you have something solid and we’ll be in touch.”

“That works for us,” you replied firmly, not giving into his apparent doubts on your abilities. You were a nepo-hire, everyone there knew it. But it didn’t mean you weren’t very good at your job.

“Alright— I’ve got a recording session to get to. If that’s everything—” Bobby trailed off and watched as the trio from the label became even more affronted.

“I’d like a solid date for follow up,” Dick tossed out, in a clear final challenge, but everyone knew the meeting was over.

“Recording is underway, but I’d say we’d be able to touch base by the middle of December,” you added, pretending to check the calendar.

“Stellar, you see to that,” Dick replied.

“Thank you, thank you all,” you added.

“Good talk.” Dick closed his window. You waited in the open meeting as Crowley and Zachariah said their goodbyes, watching Bobby as he looked at the ceiling of his car and ended the call for good.

“Alright then,” you muttered as you closed Zoom and tried to come to grips with what you had just promised. What you had asked for, completely unprompted.

You looked at your laptop and decided you needed to step away and clear your head. You grabbed your phone off your desk and your earbuds, heading to the corner of your office and your stationary bike. Because if anything screamed escaping to a mountain trail ride, it was this moment and the month ahead of you.

You set your usual course and tapped onto one of your workout playlists, letting the music wash over you as you pedaled toward the warm up hills. Dean wasn’t going to go along with this easily, everyone knew that. But he had come so far over the last year and you hoped that included an openness to what was best for the band, even if it meant swallowing some of his pride.

Despite what he said on the call, you knew you had to get Bobby on board. You just had to have something to sell him, a hook. Something he wouldn’t think of as a threat to Dean or the band as a whole. Something he wouldn’t want to poke too hard, just because he could.

Bobby was a naturally curious old codger, but one thing that was always guaranteed to make him wash his hands of a situation was anybody’s love life. He had no fucks to give about who was fucking who. Not all of Lee and Pam’s ongoing drama, not Sam’s summer-long tryst with the little brunette from the Yellow Eyes label, not even when Cas hooked up with the reporter for Rolling Stone mid-interview. 

Okay. That you could work with.

Somebody who could increase public opinion and be down to be Dean’s arm candy. And suddenly an evil idea crossed your mind, something so wrong and so right that you lost your footing and the bike safety locked on you as you said a very dejected ‘fuck’ out loud to your empty apartment.

You had your answer, now you just had to make it happen.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @suckitands33

Chapter Two: Measure

[myrskytuuli]

One of my favourite things about Helluva Boss (and this is me being 100% genuine) is how much it reminds me of a fanfic written of a much worse, early 2000s, low-key homophobic, show á la supernatural and the ilk. Like, it does really hit that very spesific nostalgia of reading slash fics instead of doing homework in 2007.

Somewhere out there is an alternate universe where Helluva Boss is a show released in 2005 by a guy who wanted to amass an audience of edgy college-bros, but is shocked and disgusted to find out that 90% of the fandom consists of embarassing teenage girls who write slash fics on FF.net about it.

In that show, Blitzø is supposed to be a tough-rough heterosexual in the model of Dean Winchester, while the entire fandom is busy writing deep-dives about why he is actually in the closet pansexual.

Moxxie fulfills the role that Sam Winchester did in Supernatural, which is the very quintessential 00s metrosexual. Blitzø keeps teasing him about how his wife clearly wears the pants in the relationship, and Moxxie constantly has to be annoyed about it: "Just because I like musicals doesn't mean I'm gay!" His heroic moment is when he gets to be a badass and rescue Millie, who swoons in his arms, and the audience is assured that just because Moxxie is a bit of dweeb, doesn't mean that he can't take care of his woman and be REAL MAN.

Blitzø is constantly flirting with Millie, while there is also a running joke about people confusing him and Moxxie for a gay couple, and instead of being normal about it, they do the spn/Sherlock routine and drag the denial on for about three minutes too long, which just makes it sound like Blitzø really wants to fuck Moxxie. It's basically an fandom-wide accepted headcanon that Blitzø wants to have a threesome with both M&Ms. The creators are disturbed, apalled, and confused as to how anyone could arrive in such a conclusion.

Stolas is the queer-coded antagonist, whose status as the big villain changes according to who happened to be writing the episode. Sometimes he's a genuine threath, seeking to get his stolen book back from Blitzø. Sometimes, for very contrived plot reasons, he needs Blitzø's help with something or another, and leverages the book to get him to do his dirty work. And sometimes he's written as basically a comic relief character, this effeminate dandy who tries so hard to be a big, bad, demon, but then immediately gets slapped around by his much more domineering wife. The fact that he can't satisfy/control his wife is always written as a joke where Stolas is the punchline. The question of: Why doesn't he just take his book back? Which the plot has danced around in more and more confusing ways, has by the fandom been solved with the simple: 'they're secretly fucking off-screen' theory.

And god help the 13-years-old who makes the mistake of mentioning Stolitz to the creators on a con-panel, because she's about to get the public humiliation of a lifetime by the writers and actors, who are not afraid to mock the "delusional tumblrinas" in front of everyone, and with open malice.

Asmodeus is always seen surrounded by busty, half-naked, women, but he did once say that he's "quite flexible" when it comes to sex, which the fandom celebrated as finally getting a confirmed, canon, queer representation on the show. Fizzarolli is his bussiness partner/employee/it's never really made entirely clear, who desperately wishes that some of Asmodeus' charm would rubb on to him out of sheer proximity, but the whole joke is that he's a desperate, unfuckable, disabled, clown, so no matter how hard he tries, women will just never want him. The fact that Asmodeus seems to genuinely enjoy his company, has made the entire fandom convinced that the aloof, horny, sex-symbol is secretly, madly, deeply in love with the clown. He just has to hide it, because of his status, the entire, delusional, fandom desperately headcanons.

Loona's relationship with Blitzø is very uncomfrotable, because while it is implied that he gave her shelter when she was younger, he also sometimes ambigiously flirts with her. The fandom refuses to engage with those scenes and instead writes Blitzø as an overprotective dad.

Half-way through the show, Millie gets fridged.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Brother's Keeper: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression

Summary: The repercussions of every bad thing you did while being soulless hit you like a freight train at full speed. There are no words that can describe how broken you feel. Sam and Dean manage to break the spell and lift the curse but what did you let out in return?

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"So, does this mean no more adventure?"

"I think we have all the adventure we can handle right here."

"What about Dark!Charlie?"

"She's quiet. I just have to keep moving forward. We all do." She looks once more at you and Dean before walking into the library to deal with the after-effect of her almost dying at both your hands. "We are going to fix this. I'm not letting what happened to me happen to you two."

"What if I like being this way?" you ask and everyone looks at you. "Have you thought of that?"

"I refuse to accept that."

"You can't fix what already happened," Dean sighs.

"Cain found a way to live with it."

"After centuries of murder," you say.

"Yeah, well, there's one thing that you two have that he didn't. You're a Winchester. I forgive you, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I don't."

"I know. That's kind of your move." She turns to you and smiles sweetly. "I forgive you, too."

You set your drink down and stand up. Everyone is on edge just from that single move, and you walk closer to her in intimidation. It seems to work since she backs away slightly but she is a brave one. Sam goes to stop her but you hold out your hand as if to say, "Don't worry, I won't hurt her."

"Let me get one thing clear. The only reason you are still alive is because of them. Had they not been there, I would have killed you. I do not feel guilty for what I did. I actually liked it. Whatever part of me found you tolerable is gone. You better hope that you don't see me without them by my side."

You're not you. You're not this person. Charlie has to remind herself of that before she allows herself to get hurt because of you. She knows you're only saying this to hurt her so she doesn't let you know that your words do affect her.

"I'm gonna get you back."

"Let the games begin," you smirk and back away from her.

Sam and Dean look at each other before lunging at you. You see their moves coming from a mile away. While Sam and Dean are fighting to subdue you, you're fighting to kill. You have nothing to lose. They have everything to lose.

Sam swings his hand to punch you but you grab it at the last second and twist it behind him. Dean comes running at you two so you kick his ass and they go crashing into each other. Dean is the first one up and runs at you. He grabs you from behind thinking he got you but you're two steps ahead of him. You let them believe he got you so when Sam comes over, you kick off his chest and swing over Dean. You land on the floor and punch Dean to the ground, almost breaking his jaw.

The problem with the Winchesters is you're too damn flexible for them. You roundhouse kick Sam in the face, and he sprays a line of blood as he goes down. They start to think you might win this so they have to pick up their game or you will kill them. Dean ignores the pain in his jaw as he grabs one of the chairs and smacks you in the back.

You crumble to the ground in a grunt of pain. He and Sam grab you on either side and refuse to let you go. You struggle as hard as you can to get away from them but it's looking like you might lose this fight. The more you struggle, the more you get angry. The more you get angry, the more your Mark flares and burns. The metaphorical pot inside your body is bubbling over, and the only thing fueling it is the Mark.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Admit it! You lost this one!" Dean grunts.

"Let go of me!"

"You lost, Y/N, just give it up!" Sam yells.

"I said. LET. GO!"

Bright red magic explodes out from all sides of you, causing Sam and Dean to go flying into the walls behind them. The entire war room is covered in a red hue, and you look down at your hands to see red magic flow out of them. The power you feel right now is so... exhilarating. Your Mark is burning so much but it's the good kind of pain. The kind of pain you crave. The kind of power you crave.

You look at the brothers with an evil smirk. They're too scared to do anything. They know you've fallen over the edge. There is no coming back from this. You lift the brothers with your magic and fling them so hard into the wall again that it cracks from the pressure. Both of them are too weak to do anything which is exactly what you want.

You reach up and peel off the device from your neck like it's a goddamn sticker.

"You don't control me anymore. I win. I'm leaving. If you want to try and stop me, well, you can't. No one can," you laugh.

You grab your bag and head to the metal stairs.

"This isn't you!" Sam yells loudly. You pause by the stairs but don't face him. "You're the Sapphire Witch! You help people!"

"Honey, the Sapphire Witch is dead."

"Yeah? Then what are you?"

You face the brothers with a smirk and bright red eyes.

"I'm the Scarlet Witch."

"Come on, Dean. What did you expect of me?" you chuckle.

"I don't know, Y/N. I don't know who you are anymore. In fact, I don't want you in my life until you're back to normal. What you did today was out of control. You are becoming what we hunt!"

You can't help but laugh at him. His bravery amuses you. You step closer to him so that your toes are touching, and you lose your smile to show him how serious you are.

"What are you going to do about it? What power do you have over me?"

Dean leans closer to you.

"I'm gonna find that cure and shove it down your throat."

"You do that and I'll still be soulless. I'll find those children of ours and skin them alive in front of you. Stop looking for the cure. I don't want it. It's you or them. Pick one."

"Okay, I'm going to ask one more time." Everyone but Claire looks at you. "Cas, where are my kids? I know you know where they are." Sam and Dean look at each other with fear but Cas won't back down so easily. Still, no one answers you. "No one wants to answer me? Fine." You grab Claire by her hair and yank her up to her feet. You pin her to your front and wrap your hand around her throat. The other arm is wrapped over her chest and gripping the opposite shoulder. All three men immediately move toward you but you flash your eyes red. "Take one more step and I'll snap her neck."

"Castiel," she whimpers but you tighten your grip on her throat.

"Where. Are. My. Kids."

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you. I have been looking for them for the past two weeks, and they have not shown up on any camera across the country. They are children. They go outside and play. Tell me how they are able to do that and not get picked up by a single camera. I know you had something to do with that."

"Please, just let her go and we'll talk," Cas begs.

"I gave you the chance to tell me and you lied. Now I'm forcing your hand. Tell me who is more important to you. Your wannabe fake daughter or my kids?"

"Don't tell her," Dean says. "I don't care what she does but don't tell her where they are."

"It's kind of hard to talk without a mouth, Dean, isn't it?" Immediately, Dean's mouth is gone and he panics as he touches his face. Sam watches with wide eyes, too scared to say anything. "Tick-tock, Castiel. I'm waiting."

"Please, don't do this."

"Please don't do this? That doesn't sound like a location to me."

"Castiel, please," Claire whimpers.

You pull her in tighter and put your mouth next to her ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you in Heaven. Or is it Hell? I'm not sure where they ended up." You look at Cas. "You have three seconds to tell me or she's dead. Three."

"Please, Y/N, don't do this. Let her go and we'll talk."

"That's not a location. Two."

Castiel looks at Sam and Dean with sad and guilty eyes. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out of it. He doesn't know what to do. Guess I'll have to make the decision for him.

"One." You immediately snap Claire's neck and she falls to the ground, dead. Castiel yells out in anger and lunges for you but you blast him and the brothers backward. "I told you what would happen. Consider this a lesson learned."

The bathroom door opens and you stand there with a smile on your face.

"Hi, Charlie." You use your magic and fling her phone into the wall, shattering it and ending the call to the Winchesters. "You've been a pain in my ass, haven't you?"

"You're not going to win this one."

"Maybe not but you're sure as hell not going to be around to see it, will you?"

She grabs a knife and holds it out to you but you don't make a move against her. You walk over to the toilet and sit down while keeping an eye on her.

"It's not here, Y/N!" Eldon says.

"Keep looking for it! It's here somewhere," you lie. "Nice knife you got there. Do you know what I want you to do with it? I want you to stab yourself in the leg." Your eyes shine red as does hers. "Now."

Charlie cries but she has no choice in the matter. She turns the knife slowly on herself as she tries to resist your mind compulsion. She stabs the knife into her right thigh and cries out in pain. She falls into the shower, taking the damn curtains down with her.

"Do it again," you say and cross your legs.

She does and she cries more from the pain. "I forgive you, Y/N. Just know I don't blame you."

"That's a nice sentiment. Really. Again."

She brings the knife down on her a third time. Snot comes out of her nose this time and she tries sniffling it back up but to no avail.

"When the Winchesters find your body, I want them to know just how hard you didn't fight me. You're pathetic, Charlie. This time, I want you to stab yourself in the gut. Really go slow so you can feel every inch of the blade."

Charlie yanks the blade out of her leg and positions it at her stomach. She drives the blade in slowly, and you smile at her screams. Blood is everywhere in the bathroom, all of it Charlie's. She isn't going to last long if you continue this so you stand up and walk over to the tub.

"Now I want you to take that blade and run it across your throat. Ear to ear, and as you're dying, I want you to know how much of a failure you are. Hell's gonna be pretty hot when you get there so make sure to bundle up nice and tight. Say hi to Mommy and Daddy for me, yeah?"

Charlie looks at you dead in the eyes as she slices her neck from ear to ear. She's dead within seconds. 

Charlie's screams are what cause you to shoot up in bed, panting and heart racing. You look around the room and recognize it to be the one you shared with Dean. Your head hurts, your entire body aches, and you're racked with guilt. There is such a heavy pressure on your chest that brings tears to your eyes. To say you're guilty is an understatement. To say you're sorry is beyond words. It hurts to breathe. You shouldn't be alive. You shouldn't be able to live after what you've done. How can I face Dean after what I've done to him? Sam? Castiel? How can they look at me and still love me? I don't even love me anymore. You pull your knees up and wrap your arms around them to hold them close to your chest.

"What have I done?" you mutter to yourself.

x

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[scoobydoodean]

You know what just really frost my cookies with the whole "Dean doesn't care as much about Cas" discourse??? That post you reblogged about how strong their relationship was in s4/s5 got me thinking about this, but like they had two seasons of such intense relationship building and camaraderie, that Dean was literally fighting Bobby and Sam (his two most important people!!!) over not trusting Cas in s6, and it was DEAN who tried to keep a relationship with Cas s6 - s8, like that man tried everything to keep their relationship going - and that's not to blame Cas, he had his own shit going on (well except for s6, I do blame him for that lol his position is understandable, but it was still his fault), but Dean tried and it still just never worked.

Maybe this is just me, but I've always kind of viewed their relationship in the later seasons as, Dean worked hard to keep them going for so long that eventually it kind of just...hit him that maybe Cas didn't want that? So he stopped trying quite as hard, he remembered the times Cas left, and he interpreted them as rejections, which is in part why the Divorce Arc happened - it was a culmination of many many MANY things, not just the "obvious". That's just my interpretation though, and obviously others have and can interpret it differently.

In summary I see it as, early seasons Dean chasing and pining after Cas, eventually feels rejected and betrayed, later seasons Cas chasing and pining after Dean

Though to be fair and admit to my biases, I was watching s6-s8 in real time on TV, and then I drifted away mid s9 and didn't go back and watch the rest of the seasons until recently, so my strongest impressions of Destiel are of those earlier seasons, so I tend to view it in a different light I think than people who started watching later (or more specifically after Nov 5th and/or for Cas - not that anything is wrong w watching for those reasons lol)

Yeah I think it is very very silly to think that Dean doesn’t care about Cas as much as Cas cares about him. Like wildly so.

I think this line of thinking comes mainly from focusing too much on one character's POV. I think Dean came off a few times in season 6 like he saw his relationship with Cas as transactional—even though that isn’t imo how he actually felt about Cas (just like we can analyze Cas as thinking of his relationship with the Winchesters as very transactional but he does care about them despite how it appears). I think Dean was just kind of hurt because Cas had ghosted him for so long and he thought they were friends and they'd built this bond? So in season 6, he was reacting to what he thought were the boundaries Cas himself set—boundaries that suggested Cas—the guy controlling the means of communication—did not want a friendship with him. Cas ditched Dean in the car at the end of Swan Song and then just invisibly watched Dean rake leaves. Dean was right there. Dean could only pray to Cas. Cas wouldn’t respond. In season 6, without giving Dean a say—while watching Dean rake leaves and considering whether to ask for his help—Cas decided (again--unilaterally) he wouldn't involve Dean, and I do think that decision was out of love, and also probably because... well—he probably thought "what can Dean actually... do?" But ultimately, he wanted a person he cared about who had been through a lot to just be able to rest—that's what he says. Not including Dean (and Sam) continued after Dean came back to hunting as well, because 1) Cas was still thinking about protecting Dean 2) He didn't think Dean could do anything to help (which I think is... probably pretty reasonable—he originally considered including Dean I think mainly for his tenacity) 3) the whole thing had ballooned and Cas was making deals he probably didn't even fully agree with himself—so he was ashamed to some extent, but also knew... he wasn't going to stop, and that Dean would ask him to stop.

Cas is... well—I'm going to say "more morally flexible"... and I don't think that's always a bad thing. This is a useful quality in the line of work TFW is in, honestly. He is more ruthless than Sam and Dean and he also knows that he is, and I think he actually likes to position himself as the ruthless one. He likes being the person who is willing to do what is necessary to get shit done and he's willing to sacrifice a part of himself to do it... because he can take it. He planned to kill Jesse behind the Winchester's backs to spare them the unpleasantness (and the same, later, with Kelly and Jack—when Sam and Dean were looking for a way to save both of them and Cas just went to go find Kelly and kill her). He broke Sam's wall and killed a very good friend—Balthazar—because his friends were standing in his way and he was focused on his ultimate purpose which was stopping another apocalypse. He mind tortured Donatello because it needed to be done. I think that Dean understands that Cas wants to position himself as the ruthless one, and I think Dean also understands that this isn't always a bad quality. I also think it's an obvious point of contention, because Dean is the least morally flexible in the group and is the most tenacious, which I think Cas, in turn, appreciates about Dean—but it is going to lead to clashes between them as best friends with one being tenacious about choosing the least morally crooked path when possible, and the other saying "Can we please just get on with it? I'll do it if you don't want to—I don't mind."

And that's... to some extent, what is happening in season 6... besides the lying and the hurt besties feelings and secrets and betrayals. The actual soul swallowing plan? It's Dean's tenacious insistence on following a more prudent path versus Cas's "Let's get the fuck on with it"... and there's fairness to both sides of that imo... which is why I'm annoyed with certain individuals trying to make this a "sides" thing. It isn't the actual plan as much as it's what he did around it that's the issue, and Dean isn't obligated to agree with him or to trust him after he lied so many goddamn times. Like. Dean's trust was not something to which Cas was entitled, point blank.

You're right—Dean didn’t think Cas would ever lie to him like that in season 6. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. And I think fans do this thing actually where they hear Cas say in season 6 that he’s always trusted Dean and he always comes when Dean calls and they just buy into that and go “Yeah! That’s so true!” and build an entire analysis on that (and then post insufferable parallels between that and 4.21 thinking they are saying something about Dean's "trust issues" when they are... making a very different parallel lmao). What Cas is saying about always trusting Dean isn’t true—and what’s more, Cas knows it isn’t. He knows suggesting Dean doesn’t trust him enough isn’t fair. When he was spying on Sam and Dean and Bobby he made specific note of “Dean trying so hard to be loyal” and defending him fiercely. (In fact—was there anyone Dean trusted more at that point in his life—despite also clearly being hurt by Cas ghosting him? Bobby, maybe. That's about it.) When Cas came back and tried to retroactively claim entitlement to Dean’s trust, he suggested an imbalance of trust because he was trying to dig into that part of Dean that is loyal to his friends. In other words, he was telling a lie for manipulation purposes, and that's just the damn truth. It isn't some crap about Dean having trust issues. It's Dean not buying some crap Cas is trying to sell—a twisted picture he is trying to paint to avoid doing something worse to get Dean out of his way.

It is insane for people to say Dean doesn't care about Cas as much as Cas cares about him though when you consider Cas hurt someone Dean loves just to keep Dean out of his way—he broke Sam's brain—Sammy's brain—and Dean still found a way to forgive that despite all of the trauma he has wrapped up in protecting Sam, and then he fought 360 degree combat through Purgatory looking for someone who abandoned him. Then while that person was beating him to death he was looking up at him calling him family and Cas again abandoned him. Any time Dean expressed affection for Cas there was a good bet Cas leaving would follow quickly. But Dean approaches Cas in a way the majority of fandom refuses to approach all of the characters—with an understanding of his motivations and hangups and intentions and what is in his heart (and Cas approaches him the same way). Despite it all, Dean knows that Cas cares about him. He doesn't understand why Cas won't include him though—or he does, and the reasons aren't okay with him and Cas will. not. stop. and that is the ever growing festering wound that leads to the divorce arc. It is absolutely 100% a "straw that broke the camel's back" situation. Dean's frustrations with Cas's unilateral decision-making are not... ever dealt with. Cas wanting to ghost Dean is not ever dealt with. Cas Malewifing sidelining Dean whenever he damn well feels like it by just refusing to answer the phone is not ever dealt with. Because each time it's discussed, it happens again. The ultimate narrative is just that Dean should be expected to accept it, and be grateful, and I don't think that's fair. I don't think that refusing to communicate is something that Dean should have to put up with from his best friend. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But more than that, I'm sad that it's something Cas isn't allowed to grow from, because that tendency—that desire for that secrecy and control of the means of communication and that desperation for martyrdom—that is coming from a place of great pain for Cas—a wound—and it's a deep one, and he deserved to get to start to close that wound up and heal.

[supernaturalfreakout]

Worlds Apart—The Longing

[History on Your Side—Chapter 8.] Sam Winchester x Reader

Chapter summary: As you and Sam navigate your separate lives, an invisible thread keeps tightening, inevitably pulling you back together. Warnings: Explicit/NSFW *Please see the masterlist for entire work summary and tags* Read on AO3 | Masterlist

YOU

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. You'd remained in Mystic Falls longer than you'd anticipated, but as arrangements for Miranda and Grayson's funeral were well underway, you decided to stay until they had been laid to rest.

Elena had remained at Bonnie's for around two weeks before ultimately moving in with her aunt Jenna. You all checked in on her regularly, Matt especially, who seemed to be a permanent edition to the household. Between therapy sessions and funeral planning, Elena appeared to be doing okay, although she was still unable to recall any details of the accident, including how she survived without a scrape.

Despite the circumstances, you were thankful for the opportunity to be with your friends and family—a rare hollow carved out in time. You were never completely at ease, however, as a constant niggle in your brain signified that you were somehow out of balance. You tried your best to ignore it, filling every waking hour to distract yourself from the clashing tides within.

During the day, you had been able to work remotely from your parent's house and the local library. You were grateful the university allowed you this flexibility and thankful for some semblance of normality amidst the chaos. Alongside balancing work, you spent your days supporting Elena, attending to your parents, and even dodging Ric's not-so-subtle vies for your attention. It was exhausting, but worth it; anything to deter the impending numbness that threatened to consume you.

In the aftermath of your dream-induced panic, you and Sam had exchanged several messages. His words were a lifeline, reflecting genuine compassion and understanding, yet the feelings they evoked scared you as much as they reassured. You yearned for deeper connection, yet feared unveiling the depth of your feelings, trapping you both in a cycle of superficial exchanges. Guilt nagged at you relentlessly, the weight of concealing your true vulnerabilities taking a toll on your conscience, manifesting in a dissonance that left you vying for an escape. There were moments you almost called him, but refrained, burying your deepest hopes and fears.

As the day of the funeral dawned, you busied yourself alongside Bonnie and Caroline, arranging flowers and organizing food for the wake. The service itself was a somber affair, unfolding in a wave of emotions as Elena, Jeremy, and Jenna struggled through their tearful tributes. You tried to keep it together but failed. The combination of your friend's heartache and your parents silent tears became too much to bear, releasing a river that cascaded down your cheeks.

Back at Jenna's for the wake, stories of Miranda and Grayson's kindness and warmth flowed, tales of cherished moments that now felt both precious and fragile. It was heartbreaking, yet oddly comforting, a testament to the strength found in vulnerability and the support of loved ones. It was in these moments that you felt a subtle shift within yourself. Life, you realized, was way too unpredictable and fleeting to hold back on what truly mattered, leaving you with a resolve to embrace the present without reservations.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you bid lingering goodbyes, and eventually stepped back into your childhood bedroom. A rush of relief and exhaustion settled over you as you readied for bed, feeling the weight that had made its home on your shoulders lift ever so slightly. You slowly changed into your PJs, washed your face and brushed your teeth, before collapsing onto your mattress.

As you stared at the ceiling fan, a surge of clarity washed over you, as if you were now seeing clearly for the first time in weeks. Restlessness gnawed at you as you lay there, urging you to move, to do something, igniting a spark of confidence that spurred you to reach for your phone.

You crunched against the headboard, tucking your knees to your chest as you unlocked the screen and navigated to your contacts. You froze for a second, doubting yourself by habit, but before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers moved of their own accord.

"Fuck it" you muttered, as you ultimately tapped call next to Sam's name.

The ringing echoed in your ears, each tone adding to the pounding of your heart as the seconds passed, blurring the lines between excitement and anxiety.

You nervously twirled a strand of hair around your finger as your thoughts raced, wondering whether he would answer or if the call would go to voicemail.

Then, just as you were about to give up hope, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

---

SAM

Blood splattered on Sam's face as he swung his blade, the head of a vampire rolling to the floor at his feet.

With a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he wiped the blood from his brow, the metallic scent hanging heavy in the air.

Dean stepped closer, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder with a grin, surveying the now still nest. "Nice one, Sammy. That’s the last of them."

Sam nodded, feeling a surge of relief mixed with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Right, let's hit the road!" Dean exclaimed. "If I put my foot down, we'll make it back before sundown."

Sam nodded, "sure thing."

As they settled into the Impala, Sam felt the weight of exhaustion settle in his bones. Despite the successful case, a profound weariness settled in, leaving his mind vulnerable to the thoughts he had been trying so hard to repress. Thoughts of you tugged at the edges of his mind, as they always did in moments of solitude. He wondered what you were doing, how you were, whether you thought of him as much as he thought of you. No, I doubt that… Maybe I should let go of this idea? It never ends well for me anyway…

Despite these intrusive thoughts, he yearned to reach out, but a persistent sense of restraint anchored his desires, burying them beneath the demands and harsh realities of the hunter's life.

As his mind continued to wander, the steady hum of the Impala's engine lulled him into a drowsy state, offering him an escape route from his restless mind.

Dean glanced over, concern evident in his tone as his voice broke through the haze. "Hey, you good?"

"Yeah, just… tired…" Sam mumbled, his words trailing off as he let exhaustion claim him.

Dean chuckled softly, glancing at Sam now asleep in the passenger seat. "Rest up, Sammy. We'll be home soon."

As the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the bunker, Dean turned off the engine and glanced at his brother, still slumbering in the passenger seat. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We're back."

With a nudge, Sam stirred, blinking sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. "Mmm, we're back already?"

"Yeah, buddy. Time flies when you're catching some Z's…" Dean chuckled, patting Sam's shoulder before grabbing the takeout he'd picked up, slamming the driver's door shut.

Sam yawned and stretched, dragging himself out of the car, the weariness still evident in his movements.

As they approached the bunker's entrance, Dean nudged Sam playfully. "Bet you a burger you'll be asleep before you finish chewing your dinner."

Sam chuckled weakly, the corners of his lips curling up. "You're on, Dean. But I'm holding you to that, even in my sleep."

As they made their way inside, the routine clunk of boots against the metal stairwell announced that they were finally home, followed by a familiar voice greeting them from below.

"Sam, Dean. You're back."

"Nice observation, Sherlock," Dean quipped.

"Hey Cas," Sam acknowledged with a nod.

After dumping his bags and, to Dean's dismay, successfully devouring his share of the takeout, Sam made a beeline for the shower.

Stepping into the embracing warmth, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the steam and familiar routine. The hot water cascaded over him like a balm, washing away the remnants of dirt and dried blood, offering a momentary respite from the chaos of their recent hunt.

Now, freshly scrubbed, the scent of sandalwood lingered, mingling with the faint aroma of steamed water that clung to his skin. His hair, still damp from the towel, carried the crisp scent of mint shampoo, it's faint residue refreshing his senses as he slid into his bed.

Soft cotton sheets welcomed him, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the shower. Exhaustion settled over him like a weighted blanket, but, before sleep could claim him, he was startled by a vibration on the nightstand.

He shot his hand out, instinctively reaching for his phone in the darkness, anticipating another update from one of their contacts.

Suddenly, he was wide awake, his eyes widening in surprise as your name lit up the display.

His mind raced, wondering what had brought on your call. Was it urgent? Had something happened?

He sat upright, propping himself against the headboard, the faint glow of the phone screen illuminating his face as he swiped to answer your call.

---

YOU & SAM

"Y/N?"

The room felt suffocating as your breaths grew shallow, your pulse pounding in your ears, drowning out everything but Sam's voice. You took an uneven breath, attempting to steady yourself, but your voice betrayed your anxiety.

"Hey Sam…"

Sam listened intently, sensing your unease. "Hey… Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine…" You rushed to reassure him, but unease settled in your stomach as you caught yourself in a lie. "Well, actually… it's been a long day, I just wanted…" You paused, considering your words. "Can we talk…?"

Sam's voice held a mixture of surprise and anticipation as he raked his fingers through his damp hair. "Yeah… yeah of course… It's… nice to hear from you. How are things?"

The conversation started tentatively, the initial discomfort evident in the pauses and careful choice of words, but as the minutes passed, the awkwardness melted away, replaced by effortless familiarity and understanding.

"The funeral was today?" Sympathy radiated from Sam's voice as he tucked his hair behind his ear. He sounded as genuine as you remembered him being.

You reply softly, touched by his concern. "Yeah… It was rough… but… Elena will be okay, she's strong".

Sam nodded. "She sounds it… She's lucky to have a friend like you."

"If you say so…" You smile, not fully believing his words.

"How have you been holding up?"

You thought for a second. "I've been…okay… I'm doing better now, anyway. It's been nice to spend time with my family and friends, you know? We've all helped each other."

Sam hummed in understanding.

"And, my work has been a bit of a distraction… This new project I'm working on… it's demanding, to say the least, and I'm still adjusting."

"Hmm, change is always hard… Especially with everything you're dealing with on top of it".

You sigh. "Yeah I guess so… Anyway, how are you? Any interesting cases lately?"

"Well…today it was a Vamp nest, pretty standard."

"Yeah, Vampires… standard, right…" You laugh, hearing Sam chuckle down the phone.

It's so nice to hear her laugh, Sam thought, smiling to himself.

"But uh… we've been seeing a lot of Castiel recently, which has been… interesting…"

"Castiel?" You were intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

"He's an Angel," Sam explained, noticing your curiosity. "He's been helping us out with something… biblical…"

"Oh, right… one of those Angels you mentioned… I bet that adds a whole new dimension to your hunts?"

Sam chuckled, "you could say that… It's always eventful with Cas. He's been hanging around the bunker lately, something to do with 'watching over Dean'. It's a bit off-putting, in all honesty."

Whoa. "So… you're basically living with an Angel?" You couldn't hide your astonishment.

"You could… meet him, you know… that offer still stands, about visiting the bunker…"

"That's umm… quite an offer… I… I've never been the most religious person… I might need some time to prepare…"

Sam exhaled through his nose. "Cas… doesn't judge. He may speak his mind, but he's… a goofy puppy".

"So… no need to go to confessional…?"

"Absolutely not!" Sam laughed, as he wondered what you could possibly need to confess.

You mirrored his amusement before pausing, taking a moment to steady your swirling nerves.

"So… I'm actually flying back to Kansas tomorrow…"

Sam's heart began to beat a little bit faster. "Oh? How are you feeling about that?"

There was a momentary silence, an unspoken pause filled with the weight of unsaid words as you considered your response.

Throughout your conversation, the depth of your connection had started to rekindle, bridging the gap that had widened in recent weeks. Sam's voice was a soothing balm to your troubled mind, and gradually, you found the courage to consider opening up to him completely. Your heart raced and your palms became sweaty as you considered how to approach this.

"Y/N?" Sam said your name softly, brow creased with anticipation as he sensed your nervousness through the line. "Are you alright?"

"Um, yeah, I…" you pause, anticipation coursing through your veins as those butterflies began flapping their wings frantically. You unconsciously clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white.

Should I tell him? Maybe it's too soon? What if I'm misreading everything? You debated your thoughts internally, but the ache in your chest compelled you to open up, to take the risk and lay your true feelings bare.

You relented, the words tumbling out with a mixture of urgency and vulnerability. "I've been thinking a lot lately… About… everything. I've been distant… I know, but… I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, Sam… about… before I left… about you… about… us…"

The distant hum of the bunker's generator seemed insignificant compared to the rush of emotions surging through Sam with every word you spoke.

"And I know it sounds crazy… and I know we hardly know each other, so stop me if I'm completely overshooting the mark but… I've missed you… Like really missed you. And I… I can't explain it… I just…"

Your thoughts spiraled, doubts and uncertainties clouding your mind. Am I saying too much? Is this the right time? What if this ruins everything? Your heart pounded with each passing second. You bit your lip, anxious about how Sam would respond.

Sam's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and elation flashing across his face as he heard your confession and the desperation in your voice. His head spun as he clocked the implications of what you were saying, realizing that he had not been making it up at all.

Sam shifted on his bed as his thoughts flooded with memories of you… the passion in your voice as you spoke about your interests… the glint in your eyes when he caught your gaze… the way your face felt in his hands, delicate and stunningly beautiful… the taste of your lips… your body against his…

He yearned to touch you, to hold you, to reassure you that he felt it too; this magnetic attraction and burning desire that had sparked the moment he laid eyes on you. He felt it in his bones.

I need to tell her… Sam's thoughts echoed with urgency, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his bedsheet.

He cut in, a stark determination lacing his voice. "It's not crazy… At least, if it is, then I am crazy too…" He exhaled frantically. "I've missed you too, Y/N… So fucking much. Every single day. I can't get you out of my fucking head." He spoke earnestly, his words coursing through you as he breathed out a laugh of relief.

There was a heavy pause as you took in his words, the urgency in his voice.

"Really?" you tremble.

"Yes, really," Sam chuckled, feeling a knot of tension unwind as he spoke his mind.

A sigh escaped your lips, your shoulders relaxing as Sam reciprocated your feelings. A weight lifted off your chest, but your stomach was alive with nervous excitement.

You pause for a breath, gathering your thoughts. "Well… I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner…"

Sam sighed. "I am too…"

You lingered, the tension between you now sparkling with a newfound hope, connection, and…desire.

Sam breathed softly down the line, his words bringing goosebumps to your skin. "I wish I could be there with you…"

You sighed, the longing unmistakable in your voice. "I wish you were too…"

"When can I see you?" Sam's voice held a hint of desperation.

"Tomorrow too soon…?" you suggested, not even joking.

Sam chuckled. "Not soon enough."

You let out a soft laugh, a blend of joy and nervous anticipation swirling within you, making it difficult to form a coherent response.

"When does your flight land? I'll be there…"

"Sam, you don't need to—"

"—Oh, I do." Sam interjected, determination lacing his words as his voice dropped to a low, longing whisper. "I need you, Y/N. So bad."

Your breath hitched, a rush of emotions overwhelming you as you shivered at his words, and the silent sentiments that laced them.

You trembled, your voice betraying the emotions you struggled to contain. "I'll… I'll send you the details…"

"I'll be there," Sam assured firmly.

"Okay," you breathed, feeling a sudden rush of submission at the authority in his voice.

A thick pause lingered, before Sam's voice cut through the undeniable tension, carrying an unmistakable tone of arousal and longing.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then…"

You chuckled lightly, sensing the heat in his words. "Yes… yes you will…"

A breathy laugh escaped Sam down the line. His voice oozed desire, his thoughts wandering to places he knew he shouldn't dwell. "Sleep tight, Y/N…"

You breathed shakily, feeling the charged energy between you through the line. "I will now…"

You sensed his smile, his voice warm as he finally bid you "goodnight."

---

YOU

With a shaky sigh, you put your phone down and nestled back into the comfort of your bed, a faint smile gracing your lips as adrenaline coursed through your blood.

Despite your weariness, you were unable to shake this newfound energy. Anticipation bubbled within you as your mind raced with thoughts of Sam, imagining what tomorrow would bring.

You turned on your side, clutching the duvet, and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for sleep to claim you. But it was not your time.

…'I missed you too Y/N'…

Sam's words played on repeat in your mind as you clutched the duvet to your chest.

…'So fucking much'…

Heat rose to the surface of your skin as you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

…'I can't get you out of my fucking head'…

Goosebumps appeared as your sweat cooled, covering your body from head to toe, aching to be warmed away.

This is useless, you thought, as you rolled, fighting against your bedsheets.

You finally settled on your back and exhaled deeply, moving your hand from its vice grip on the duvet to rest on your abdomen.

…'Not soon enough'…

You slid your hand lower, your fingers tracing below your stomach. God help me…

…'I need you, Y/N. So bad'…

He needs me…? I need him. Right now.

Your fingers slipped below the waistband of your underwear, then further… a bit further…

You held your breath as you dipped your finger into your molten core.

You found yourself completely soaked—pure liquid.

Fucking hell… I am definitely going to have to go to that confessional, you thought, as you held your breath, trailing a finger through your slick.

You let out a shaky breath, relieving your body of tension, as you slip your fingers up and down your inner folds, coating yourself in your own juices before you begin to trace circles around your sensitive clit, humming softly—your fingers smooth and dripping.

You closed your eyes, continuing to rub circles around your now swollen clit, silently wishing your fingers were Sam's.

You imagined what it would feel like, for his strong long fingers to glide against you, slippy and silken against your aching pussy, hot, wet and desperate for his touch.

You slipped a finger inside of your hot, aching walls, kicking out of your underwear and sleep shorts in a haste.

Now unrestrained by your clothing, you spread your thighs wider, shifting your hips to reach a deeper angle as you curled your finger upwards, towards that sensitive spot. Sam wouldn't have this trouble, you thought. His fingers could reach areas that I've never been able to reach… and those lips… that tongue, so soft and skilled against your mouth, your neck… You longed to know what they could you to you elsewhere.

You slipped in another finger as you picked up the pace, the sounds emerging from you completely obscene, turning you on even more than you already were.

You palmed your clit as you fucked yourself with your fingers, the spiraling coil of pleasure inside you starting to come undone.

Your other hand reached for your breast and you pinched your hard nipple between your thumb and forefinger and rolled.

You pinched harder, imagining what it would feel like to have your nipple between Sam's teeth.

You thought back to that night, on your sofa… Sam underneath you, hardening against you…

You added a third finger to your core, wishing it was Sam's cock that was stretching you out.

You thrummed your sensitive spot rhythmically, imagining what it would feel like for Sam's cock to be fucking you into pure bliss.

Your breaths grew shallow as you turned your face into your pillow to obscure your breathy moans, trying your best to keep quiet.

Your muffled moans vibrated into the pillow as you continued to stimulate your g-spot, curling your fingers, stroking yourself closer to the edge.

You longed for Sam's hand over your mouth, around your neck, telling you to be quiet whilst he did everything in his power to make sure you weren't.

Dear fucking god, I am going to hell.

The spiral in you unwound even further, causing you to squeeze your legs together, aching for more friction.

You withdrew your fingers to focus on your clit, allowing your legs to squeeze closer together.

A wave of pleasure washed towards you and you tried to catch it, squirming against the ripple pulsing through you, desperately begging for that relief you craved.

You missed it. Shit…

Another wave of pleasure rose to meet you.

It washed away. Fuck, no, please…

…'I need you Y/N'…

Sam's voice echoed in your head.

A tide surged towards you as you assaulted your throbbing clit.

You squeezed your thighs tighter, crushing your hand between your legs.

…'So bad'…

You caught it.

You clamped your legs together completely, riding that wave of pleasure all the way into your climax.

You writhed, as your orgasm wrung you out; legs trembling, chest heaving, dopamine flooding your nervous system.

You gasped, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and with one last strained exhale, you finally relaxed into the mattress, your crushed, wrinkled fingers falling to your side.

You finally catch your breath, coming down from your high, contemplating how Sam had managed to get you off, despite being a world away.

Jesus fucking Christ. If that's the orgasm you can have just from thinking of Sam, what the hell would it be like to actually fuck him? Fuck.

You lay there for a few minutes, feeling like jelly as you slowly recover from your post-orgasm high.

Once grounded, you rolled to your side, swinging your legs out of the bed and padded towards your bathroom to clean yourself up.

As you emerged from the bathroom, the faint buzz of your phone echoed in the quiet room. Your steps muffled against the carpet, carrying you towards your bed where your phone screen illuminated a simple message:

[Sam Winchester] "Don't forget to send me those details, will you? X"

A grin slowly tugged at the corners of your lips, a blush rising to your cheeks. Slipping under the covers, you opened the airline app to check your flight details and quickly tapped out a response to Sam, confirming your flight number and landing time. He replies almost immediately.

[Sam Winchester] "Thanks xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "No problem xx"

[Sam Winchester] "Why you still up?xx"

You blush.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Can't sleep xx"

[Sam Winchester] "How come?xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Thinking…of you xx"

You bit your lip as you pressed send.

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing... ... Sam is typing... ... Sam is typing... "Same here xx" Sam is typing... "You should sleep though. You'll need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow xx"

Omg. You giggled. Can he mean…? You flush. You decided to feign innocence.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Oh yeah? Why's that?xx"

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing… ... Sam is typing... "Long travel day? 😉 xx"

Fuck. You see right through him. He does.

Your mind raced, trying to think of a witty reply but came up blank.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "I could say the same for you… You'll need all your energy for all that driving you'll be doing 😇 xx"

[Sam Winchester] "Touché, Dr 😉 But seriously, get some sleep, I'll see you at the arrivals gate xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Yes Sir 😉 xx"

A mischievous smile crept onto your face as your thumb hovered over 'send'. You pressed it, a wave of lust overriding your logical brain. I may regret that, you thought, but your grin lingered.

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing… ... Sam is typing… ... "Sweet dreams, Princess 👑xx"

Your brain screamed. Right call, right call!! But fuck, you were getting no sleep tonight.

Chapter 9

[myjennieblr]

Dracula: a burlesque musical.

This is the Dracula fan-site. And the fuck body-negativity website. And the horny monster-fucker website.

(Also the esoteric, detailed info-dumping website, but that is less relevant here.)

So, because of this, I feel like you would all appreciate knowing that one of our local amateur burlesque groups just staged a hilarious burlesque adaptation of Dracula.

Highlights include:

Lucy’s harem and the number where she chooses between her suitors

the fact that Lucy and Mina were such good friends and **giggle giggle** roommates

one of Dracula’s brides being a very lithe individual who clearly had gymnastics training, one being a standard buxom beauty, and the third being an individual who I would have placed in the bear category who also had excellent flexibility and could perform a well-controlled cartwheel.

all genders having pasties… I don’t actually know if that is just standard protocol for burlesque or if that was this show’s decision, but it certainly helped with the feeling of gender-parity.

Quincy’s sherriff star pasties that got changed to US flag pasties later on and the nerf-gun “winchesters” named Sam and Dean and their beloved knife called Jolene

An amazing vampy, campy Dracula from trans-ylvania

aggressively queer and trans-positive casting and choreography

the hilarious “flight from the castle” scene done by having the actor run around the bare stage while a video was projected on the back wall of the woods moving past and the same being how they showed the river-boat chase, towing two toy boats in strings after each other up a rivulet

the Jonathan and Mina love-fest remaining integral

Van Helsing’s super-charged, bedazzled holy cross groin

the great song choices parodied and used for the dance numbers with the entertainingly filked words… I am terrible with song titles, but “The Final Countdown” being changed to “We will hunt the count down” was such an awesomely groan-worthy choice and should be held up as an example par excellence.

I had an absolutely amazing time and laughed and smiled in delight the whole time, both for enjoyment seeing how the story was adapted for this milieu, how much time and energy the performers placed into the piece, and for the knowledge that there are people out there willing to dedicate so much of their spare time and energy to putting something like this together.

[ao3wincest]

Icing On The Cake

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ia1XK0V by SamandDean76 Dean was looking for something in Sam's room and discovered a stash of photographs that had been taken when Sam was at Stanford. (Yeah, this is going where you think it is...) Words: 797, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 20 of SPN Kinktober 2024 Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Flexible Sam Winchester, Happy Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Sam Winchester Has a Large Penis, NSFW image, Yoga For The Win, Kinktober 2024, Nude Photos, SPN Kinktober Prompt: Nude Photography read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ia1XK0V

[myloversgone]

What Happens in Vegas…

Summary: Dean and Donna are in a relationship and, when they go to Las Vegas on vacation, she makes a decision that can change everything…

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings: +18 story! Do not read if you’re underage! Smut, descriptions of sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v, dirty talk, little tiny bit of angst and body insecurities. Post series finale. 

Word count: 7,100~ (I’m sorry I have no self-control)

A/N: What inspired me to write this story was Briana Buckmaster’s Instagram post about JIBCon 2023. I used her photos for the header. I hope you enjoy it! 

A/N 2: This story can be read both as a one-shot or as a sequel to On My Way To You. Your choice ;)

A/N 3: I don’t own the song lyrics or the gif I used in this story. If you’re the owner of the gif, let me know and I’ll happily include the source. 

MY MASTERLIST

Since Chuck was defeated, monsters got more rare and hunting became more of a side job for the Winchesters than their main activities. For Dean, that also meant he got to spend more time with Donna.

They’ve been together for almost three years but, for most of that time, they would be away from each other for long periods. With the defeat of their biggest enemy, Donna kept her work as a Sheriff, while Dean became a mechanic, taking jobs mostly in restoring classic cars, and going on hunts from time to time.  

With his job being the more flexible one, Dean would usually go to Donna’s place so she didn’t have to ask for days-off and vacations all the time.

One afternoon, Donna got an early shift; the last one before her long-awaited vacation. She managed to take 15 days off, and she planned to spend each and every second of them with Dean, who had arrived in Stillwater that same morning. 

They didn’t have any specific plans for her vacation but, on the way home, Donna had an idea.

“Dean, I’m home!”, she yelled from the front door as she entered the house.

“Hey, sweetheart”, he greeted, coming from the kitchen to meet her.

“Hey you”, Donna smiled, showing her dimples. She wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck while his circled her waist, squeezing her body against his and giving her a long kiss.

Donna moaned into his mouth. She would never get tired of kissing him. He was so thorough, so passionate and attentive. He would put his feelings in the smallest kiss, and she could always tell how much he cared about her with the simplest touches. 

The woman pushed her fingers through Dean’s hair. It was longer now, for the first time since she met him and, according to Sam, for the first time ever. After a lot of convincing from her part, he agreed to let it grow a little. Everytime a strand would fall on his face, Donna’s heart leaped in her chest. It was the sexiest thing ever. She didn’t know how he managed to look better with age, but she found Dean sexier now than when she met him all those years ago. 

Dean was also sporting a beard, but stopping him from shaving so often didn’t take too much convincing from her part. All it took was one wild night where he ate her out like it was his last meal, and his scruff left burns on her inner thighs. The morning after, when he saw the marks, he felt convinced enough.

“Dang it, thank goodness I’m on office duty today, ‘cause walking and running around with my pants scratching my thighs would be a pain in the ass…”, Donna mumbled in front of the mirror, checking the red marks while getting dressed for work. She shimmied into her pants and Dean came to stand behind her.

“You know you look damn sexy with these burn marks, right?”, he asked, kissing her neck, exposed by the tight bun her hair was tied into. That day, she ended up getting late for work. 

Now, back in her living room, they broke the kiss, and Dean looked at her with bedroom eyes. “How was your day, beautiful?”

She blushed, like everytime he gave her a compliment. “It went fine, but I was counting the seconds to come home to see you, ‘cause I have an idea”. Donna said, smiling and placing a feathery kiss on his lips. She went past him, in the direction of the stairs leading to the bedroom.

Dean turned around to watch her climbing the stairs, openly ogling her ass. He loved that he didn’t have to steal glances anymore.

“Oh, yeah? And what idea is that?”, he asked, tailing Donna, taking two steps at a time to get to the bedroom’s door with her.

She looked at him over her shoulder, proceeding to take off her Sheriff uniform. “How do you feel about going to Vegas?”.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Dean loved the idea. It was going to be their first road trip together, the first time he was taking Donna on a long journey in the Impala. She didn’t even try to persuade him to fly to Las Vegas, because at that point, she knew all about his fear of planes. Plus, she loved the idea of being on the road with Dean and his beloved car. 

The whole trip took two days. They stopped in a nice little hotel to get some rest, and three or four times in secluded spaces on mostly empty roads to make out whenever the sexual tension inside the car was too much for any of them to handle.

The rest of the time, they spent singing along to old rock songs on the radio, eating snacks, or chatting. Donna would usually sit right beside Dean, her head on his shoulder while he gently caressed her curly hair. She would fall asleep sometimes, feeling comfortable and safe by his side, but she did her best to stay awake, keeping him company. 

Every once in a while, Donna would get lost in watching Dean drive. The way he owned that driver’s seat, how his long, broad body filled up the space, it was fascinating to her. 

One of those times, Dean caught her looking.

“Why you staring at me, sweetheart?”, he asked, stealing a glance at her, eyes coming back to the road a second later.

“It’s just that- dang it, Winchester, am I the luckiest lady or the planet or what? Still can’t believe you chose me, ya know”, she shook her head, feeling a little emotional all of a sudden.

Dean looked at her again and reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers together and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “You chose me too, D. You could’ve kicked my butt when I flirted with ya, or I could’ve been just a one time thing for ya, but you gave me a chance when I was deep down in the hunter life. I had nothing to offer and you still believed in me”. 

Donna was again leaning her head on his shoulder, but she turned her face into his direction. “Watcha talking about? You stood by my side every time, during hunts, with my dickbags exes, you showed me I deserved someone good. You’re not just a pretty little face, Dean-o, you’re my guy”, she said, reaching up to give him a quick kiss.

He smiled against her lips, whispering “I love you, D-Train”.

She placed her head comfortably on his shoulder again. “I love you too, Dean-o. ‘Sides, Jody always told me you had it bad for me. I just needed to check if she was right”.

—-----------------------------------------------------

They arrived in Vegas before it was dark, and went straight to their room to shower and leave their luggage. The plan was to be quick so they could have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant and enjoy the casino. 

They ended up getting late because Dean decided to join Donna in the shower.

After dinner, Donna watched Dean playing poker for a while, then they went to play pool together. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, watching her moving in the tight black turtleneck and blue jeans that accentuated every curve of her gorgeous body. 

There were two guys playing in the other pool table right next to theirs and, apparently, one of them couldn’t take his eyes off of Donna too, Dean noticed. He would openly ogle her ass every time she bent over the table to play.

Donna didn’t seem to notice it. She took playing pool seriously. She wanted to win and Dean was a great player, so she focused on the game and her boyfriend. Also because he looked freaking amazing, and she couldn’t stop looking at him anyways. 

But Dean wasn’t about to let a random dude ogle Donna, not only because she was with him, but also because the guy was being a freak. So when it was his turn to play, he moved to her side of the table, walking behind her and sneaking one arm around her waist, hugging her. Donna leaned against him, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her smile showed her cute dimples, and she returned Dean’s caress, kissing the corner of his mouth. He squeezed her tighter and said “I love you”, loud enough for the guy to hear. 

Dean played and sneaked a glance to the other table. The weird dude and his friend had left. 

Later in the night, Dean went back to playing cards, but Donna wasn’t feeling like it, so she stayed with him for a while and looked around the casino, observing other guests and thinking about what she wanted to do next. In one corner of the room, there was a karaoke machine.

Dean was focused on the game, but he noticed when Donna left his side. He followed her with his eyes. Her back was turned to him while she talked to a woman, an employee of the casino and, when she turned around, she had a microphone in her hands and a playful smile on her face. 

Suddenly, he forgot all about the cards. Donna had a great voice, but she would never sing in public. Only when it was just the two of them. He’d told her she was really good, but she said he was just being nice. So the perspective of watching her sing in front of strangers made Dean feel excited, proud, and aroused, all at once. 

When the song started, he knew which one it was before Donna could even open her mouth.

I love myself

I want you to love me

When I feel down

I want you above me

I search myself

I want you to find me

I forget myself

I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else

When I think about you

I touch myself

As she sang, she ran her free hand on the sides of her body, moving with the rhythm of the music, shaking her head and her hips in an exaggerated but very sexy way, in Dean’s opinion. Cards completely forgotten on the table, he turned his chair around to have a better view of his girlfriend.

Donna put all of her powerful voice and confidence into the performance, eyes glued to Dean while she sang. She was doing that for herself, as an ego boost, just to prove that she could (with the help of a few drinks - baby steps), but it was also for him. Dean taught her that it was okay to speak her mind, to talk about sex and fantasies and how she wanted to be touched; how she wanted to feel. With that song, she couldn’t be more clear.

When the music stopped, the audience applauded and whistled. A few women went to the stage to compliment Donna, and even from a distance, Dean could see she blushed when a woman said “you should be a professional singer!”. When the ladies left, she walked back to him and he went to meet her halfway.

“So”, she started, staring at her feet and smoothing invisible wrinkles on her clothes, “what d’ya think about my performance?”, Donna asked, a dimpled smile adorning her features.

Dean was smirking, green eyes sparkling with delight. “Sweetheart, do you even need to ask? That was fucking awesome and incredibly sexy”, he answered, pulling her into a hug followed by a hot kiss.

She smiled against his lips. “Thank you. It’s true, though”, Donna stated when they broke the kiss.

“What is?”, Dean questioned, intoxicated with her taste.

“What the song says”. She watched his still confused expression. He really was inebriated. “I mean, when I think about you I do touch myself”, she whispered in his ear, standing on her tiptoes.

Dean felt her revelation going straight to his cock. If he hadn’t been already head over heels for her before, now he surely was. 

“Jesus fuck, Sheriff Hanscum, you cannot say those things and expect me to not drag you to our room and have my way with you”, he said, circling her waist with one arm and guiding her in the direction of the elevators.

“Oh, well, I’d say mission accomplished then!”, she giggled, excited for what was to come.

—-----------------------------------------------------

After the night of fun and games, singing and drinking, they were both a little tipsy and eager to be alone. Their room was on the fifth floor and Dean couldn’t take his hands off of her, not even during the short elevator trip.

When they reached their destination, Donna opened the door and pulled her boyfriend inside. She locked the door and turned around to look at Dean, who was standing at the foot of the bed, hands in his pants pockets, staring at her with the most sexy smile, strands of hair falling on his forehead.

She bit her lip, smiling back.

“I had so much fun, babe”, she said, approaching him seductively. “And you look so very handsome all in black”, she raised her head to give him a kiss, and Dean wrapped his arms around her, taking the moment to run his hands all over her curves again. 

“And you look hot as always, D”, he told her, squeezing her against his chest and lifting her chin to deepen the kiss, thoroughly licking inside her mouth, leaving Donna breathless. She threw her arms over his shoulders, sinking her fingers into the longer hair on the nape of his neck. 

Dean broke the kiss and nibbled and sucked lightly on her jaw, making her throw her head back to expose her neck to him. 

Between kisses and kitten licks, Dean would groan and nuzzle her, as Donna pressed her body further into his. 

When Dean’s hands went under her blouse, she stopped him. 

“Wait, Dean. I wanna take a picture. We both look fancy!”, she asked, excited, releasing him and searching for her phone in the tiny bag she placed on the bed when they arrived. Dean gave her a frustrated look, but she winked at him. “I gotcha, cowboy. We are not done. I just need to register this moment”, the blonde reassured.

She positioned the phone on the small vanity opposite to the bed. Dean came closer, resting his elbow on the back of the chair in front of the piece of furniture. When they were both ready, she clicked the button multiple times. 

Donna checked the photos. “Oh, my, we look too serious! Let’s try smiling, okay?”.

Four or five pictures later, Dean was done with it. “God, woman, my face hurts from smiling!”. His grumpy complaint made Donna laugh out loud, and seeing her laugh made Dean laugh too, which resulted in a cute photo of them with beautiful smiles.

“Okay, I think we have enough pics! Lemme choose one to send to Jody and the gals”, said Donna, stretching her arm to grab the phone. But Dean was faster, and he swooped her into his arms before she could reach it. 

She was laughing in surprise, and Dean threw her on the bed, laying on top of her, watching her amusement with nothing but pure admiration in his eyes.

“Damn, my girl is a bombshell”, he stated, taking in every detail of her, luscious, wavy blonde hair splayed on the pillows, rosy cheeks and dimples adorning her pretty face.

She averted his gaze, blushing with his compliment even after all those years. “Am not”, Donna dodged his comment.

“Yes, you are, baby. Beautiful, hot, sexy, all blonde and perfect and mine”, he insisted. She placed her hand on his cheek, thumb lightly caressing his full lips.

Dean leaned down and kissed her deeply, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She moaned underneath him and pulled back to take her top off, exposing her black lacy bra to his gaze. She worked on unbuttoning his shirt then, while he kissed the air out of her.

When Donna was done with Dean’s shirt, her hands traveled down to his pants, unfastening them. She could see the bulge of his erection stretching the cloth. Her mouth watered in anticipation. Her boyfriend was beautiful all over, and the excitement she felt the first time she saw him naked never really faded. It was still there, every time he got out of the shower or undressed in front of her. 

But Dean grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. By then, she was only in her lingerie. He had worked fast on removing her pants, eager to feel her skin.

Dean’s mouth went to her neck and collarbone, slowly working his way down. When he reached her breasts, he gently bit the meaty part right above the cups of her bra.

“Mmmm, D, your tits are amazing”, he said, voice muffled while still working his magic with his tongue and lips. “I could spend hours using my mouth on them and make you cum with just that”, Dean looked up at her, green eyes glistening, locks of hair falling over his forehead. He looked devilishly handsome.

Donna moved under him, opening her legs wider to fit Dean’s body in between and, hopefully, get some friction where she needed it the most. “I know you could, cowboy, but not today. You’re killing me here”, she pleaded, already breathing hard.

“Tell me what you want, baby girl”, he teased, releasing her wrists so he could use both hands to take off her bra.

“Want you in me, Dean”, she moaned, and the sight of her bare chest and her needy request made his cock twitch in his pants. 

He desperately wanted to fuck her hard and deep, make her scream and sweat under him, but he also wanted to tease her a little, enjoy her creamy skin and generous curves, get lost on her body, smell her, taste her as much as he could. Dean felt like he could spend his entire life with Donna and never get enough of her. 

“I wanna taste you, sweetheart. Can I?”, he kept going, mouth glued to her skin, releasing her left nipple and leaving it sensitive. He was kissing her navel, with his hands on her hips, arms hooked under her knees to keep her open for him.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Dean, just do it already”, she cried desperately, writhing under him.

He chuckled and kissed her lower belly, right above the panty line. “Do you know how much I love your skin, Donna? How soft you are? How the curve of your hips drives me crazy?”, his fingers were digging onto her sides, his huge, calloused hands holding her, then descending to the curve of her butt. “You’re so fucking hot, it’s unbelievable”.

“Stop teasing, dirty boy”, she asked, taking action this time. She freed her legs and got a hold of him with them, using her knees and heels to pull Dean up and reach his mouth, giving him a passionate, open mouthed kiss. She sucked on his plump lower lip, positioning her arms around his muscular shoulders. Dean still managed to sneak his hand between her legs, pressing over her mound with his palm, long, thick fingers easily finding her center.

“So wet for me, D. So beautiful”, he complimented against her lips. Donna sighed in relief and satisfaction, finally having him where she wanted. Well, she actually wanted Dean to fuck her, to fill her up in that way that only him could, but she wouldn’t deny being pleasured by his fingers, not at all. Especially because he knew exactly how to make her crazy with those massive hands of his.

“Oh, Lord, I need to feel you, Dean. Please, honey”, Donna gave him her best Minnesota drawl, knowing that her boyfriend couldn’t deny her anything when she spoke like that. 

She was right. Dean groaned and stood on his knees on the bed, ripping her panties off. Literally. The lacy fabric was turned into scrapes, making her gasp in surprise and excitement. They’ve been crazy in the bedroom before, but not rip-your-clothes-off crazy. She felt herself getting wetter, knowing that anything he wanted to do would be wonderful.

Dean wasn’t as willing to keep teasing Donna as he was before. She was driving him mad with her little noises and her begging, he was almost sending all the tease to hell and skipping right to the main attraction. She used to be so quiet and shy in bed, that having her leading him on was incredibly arousing. 

When she was completely, beautifully naked in front of him, her perfect wet cunt exposed to his sight, making his mouth water, he thought it was time for him to feel more of that amazing skin of her against his. Also, his pants were way too tight with how hard his cock was.

So he threw what was left of her panties aside and started to unbutton his pants. Donna sat on the bed and helped him with it, throwing the piece of clothing into a corner of the room when she was done. 

She kissed his naked chest and down, putting her mouth right where the line of hair started under his belly button. Dean knew what her intentions were, but he couldn’t take it now. Maybe later, definitely later, but first he needed to taste her. 

“No, no, not now. C’mere”, he pulled her up, holding her chin with one hand and taking her hand in his other one. He guided it to the front of his boxers, making her feel how painfully hard he was.

“Look how hard you make me. Lemme taste you now, lemme do it so you’ll be ready for me”, he said against her mouth, his face inches from hers, his hot breath forming goosebumps on her skin. 

“Yes, babe. Do it”, she whispered in response, squeezing and caressing his cock through the thin cloth. 

Dean gave her one more wet kiss, placing his hand on the back of her head and gently pushing her to lay back on the bed. He remained on top of her and between her legs, letting go of her lips and keeping eye contact while snaking down her body.

He started by kissing her pussy, right below the patch of hair she kept neatly trimmed. Then, Dean used his thumb and index finger to spread her lips and expose her clit, immediately putting his mouth on it. With the first contact of the tip of his tongue, Donna was moaning loudly.

“Ohhh, good Lord in Heaven”, she threw her head back, fists holding the sheets tightly.

Dean moaned, knowing very well how the vibration of his voice would increase the pleasure. He started sucking and licking on the little nub, adding a finger into her entrance right after, heart racing in anticipation when he felt how slick and wet she was. 

He licked her thoroughly, pressing his nose and chin into her, fucking her with his tongue and pushing her closer to the edge with every movement.

It didn’t take long for Donna to come, calling his name and holding onto fistfuls of his hair.

Dean stood on his knees again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while she recovered.  

He removed his boxers, giving her a full view of his perfect body and of how hard he was.

“Jesus H, Winchester. You have no business looking that good”, Donna stated between labored breaths, watching him. Dean chuckled and laid down by her side, supporting his head with one arm and circling her waist with the other to pull her body closer and kiss her.

Donna could taste herself and the whiskey they drank during dinner in Dean’s mouth. She sucked on his tongue, moaning. That man’s mouth was made for kissing, she had no doubt.

He ran his hands all over her curves, enjoying her softness and warmth. He couldn’t help but return to her breasts, giving both a good squeeze and pinching her nipples.

She gasped against his mouth, breaking the kiss. “I want you now, Dean”, Donna said, looking right into his eyes, the brown of her irises glistening.

“You have me, baby”, he answered, positioning his body on top of her and entering her slowly, just the tip first, knowing he was not small and even with how wet she was, he needed to be careful to not hurt her.

Dean asked if she was ok, to which Donna nodded, biting on her lower lip while watching the wide head of his cock stretching her pussy. 

He pushed further, halfway through his length, and she shivered, throwing her head back. 

“Ooooh, fuuuck”, Donna cursed under her breath, sinking her nails into his bicep, the feel of him inside of her too good to handle.

“It’s okay, beautiful, I’ll go slow so you can take all of me”, he grinned proudly, making her giggle.

“Gimme more, big boy”, she pleaded, shimmying her hips to pull him deeper.

He finally buried himself to the root. He could feel all of her, her walls constricting around him, increasing his pleasure almost to the unbearable.

“Wow, D, you feel so fucking good”, he said, kissing her again and pulling his cock almost all the way out, just to push it all in again, making her moan and whimper.

“You too, cowboy. You’re stretching me so good, it’s so hot”, she reached down his back, squeezing one buttcheek to take him deeper. At the same time, Dean angled his hips upwards, pressing right into her clit, and she cried in pleasure. 

Crossing her ankles behind his knees, she made herself even tighter, while Dean fucked her deep, long strokes hitting the perfect spot. 

Donna lifted her torso from the bed, arms around her boyfriend’s neck, and kissed him, pulling his plump lower lip between her teeth. She threw her head back and moaned loudly, and Dean softly nibbled her throat and snapped his hips harder against hers, fucking her into the matress. He could tell she was close and she could feel him too, deliciously pulsing inside her.

To make sure she would come first, Dean sneaked his hand between their bodies and pressed his palm over her mound, pushing her clit against his dick and keeping the upwards movements with his hips, knowing it would be enough to drive her off the edge.

“Open your eyes, Donna. Look at me when you come on my cock”, he commanded between his teeth, jaw clenched in an effort to keep going while she hit her peak.

Donna did her best to obey, even through the fog of incredible pleasure she was in. Her pussy tightened and Dean groaned louder. He buried himself impossibly deep and the angle of his hips was exactly what she needed to cum, shaking and trembling under him, digging her nails into his muscular back, her eyes open and boring into his, pupils dilated and face contorted as her body experienced the strong orgasm.

The tightness of her was enough to trigger Dean’s release, and he guided her through her orgasm while he throbbed inside her. He mouthed a throaty “fuck” when it was his turn to cum, flooding her with his warm seed.

Donna could feel Dean’s cum leaking down her pussy, her ass and the back of her thighs. He was fucking her so deep, keeping his cock buried like he wanted to plant his seed into her. She rotated her hips, adding to both their pleasures and milking him dry. Dean panted and grunted, face buried in her neck, and she knew he had an amazing ride too.

Once they were both done, Dean didn’t move, with half of his body still laying on top of Donna, his softening cock still inside of her. He gave a deep, exaggerated sigh and she chuckled, kissing his shoulder. 

“You ok, Dean-o?”, she teased, the hands that were around his neck now descending to caress his back slowly. 

“Oh, yes. I couldn’t be better. I might need a few hours to be back on my feet, though”, he muttered, face still buried on the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Donna chuckled, and decided to keep pushing his buttons. “Oh, ok. I was kinda expecting you to be ready for another round soon. I mean, I could be on top this time-”

Dean didn’t even let her finish talking and he was already holding her waist and quickly flipping them over, so she would be straddling his hips.

Donna left out a squeal and started laughing her ass off. “My lordy, Winchester, I really learned how to win you over, huh?”, she said, leaning down to give him a kiss.

“You know I’d do anything to have you on top of me”, he said after they pulled apart. 

He pushed her long hair out of the way and placed one hand on the side of her neck, guiding her into the kiss while his other hand was running up and down her thigh, the softness of her skin against his calloused palm a perfect contrast.

“Anything?”, she asked, whispering inches away from lips and grinding her center down his cock that, she could feel, was getting hard again.

“Yes, baby. Anything. Anything to watch you riding me, those beautiful tits bouncing just for me”, Dean reached behind her, holding his cock and guiding it back inside her. Donna took him with a sigh of satisfaction. “I wanna appreciate all of you, D. Every perfect inch”, he stated, thrusting up into her as she grounded down, both of them finding that perfect rhythm, that push and pull that would once more prove how they were meant to be together.

“You’re so amazing, Dean”, Donna said, sitting back on him and guiding his hands to her breasts. “You make me feel beautiful”.

“You are beautiful, sweetheart”.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Her head was on his chest, and Donna drew lazy patterns on the muscles covering his ribs. She always loved the smell of him, but especially right now, when it was a mix of the cologne she bought him as a birthday gift, sweat, and sex. The perfect combination. 

“I love you, Dean”, she bluntly said, lifting her head to look at his face. He’d been toying with her hair, curling the waves between his fingers. He stopped and looked down at her; she was smiling.

He smiled back, thinking that the life he had now was so much more than he ever thought he deserved, that he never thought was even possible. “I love you too, D-Train”. 

She kissed his chest and started to move with the intention of getting up. 

“Where ‘you going?”, asked Dean, not happy with the loss of her body on top of his.

“I’ll be right back, cowboy, just gonna get the PJs I have in my suitcase and-”

Dean interrupted her explanation by moving fast, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her back to him by her waist.

She squeaked and giggled, having been caught completely off-guard this time. “Dean Winchester, whatta hell ‘you doing?”

With her on his lap, he kissed her shoulder and neck, nuzzling and inhaling her scent before answering. “I’m stopping you from getting dressed”.

“Why?”, she questioned, raising an eyebrow and twisting on his lap so she could face him.

“‘Cause there’s no point. I’m gonna undress you again, probably sooner than later. So, if you wanna sleep now, you better sleep naked and save me the trouble later”, he winked at her, and she pushed her fingers through his hair.

“Fiiine”, she rolled her eyes in fake annoyance and leaned forward to give him a kiss before they would lay side by side, falling in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Donna woke up in the middle of the night with her bladder so full she thought it might explode. Doing her best to not disturb Dean’s sleep, she got out of bed as stealthy as possible, walking to the bathroom but stopping halfway to steal a glance at her boyfriend. 

He was sleeping on his stomach, arms tucked under the pillow. She admired the round muscles on his shoulders and biceps, and how the dim light touched the dip in the middle of his back, accentuating the plain muscles she loved so much. He looked peaceful and so, so beautiful, she could barely believe he was real.

She smiled and resumed her path.

As she was washing her hands after peeing, she got lost in her thoughts, and the resolution to make a big decision settled in her loving heart. But first, she needed to talk to someone.

"Hey, Jack", she called in a whisper, looking up, uncertain of how exactly this thing would work. It's not like she had a personal, direct connection with God before.

Somehow, she knew he was listening, so she cleared her throat and kept going, still in a whisper, deciding it was better to say it out loud than just think.

"Okay, Jackie-boy, I hope things are okay up there and that you're not too busy right now. If you are, you can listen to this message later… or, whatever. Not sure if you have a voicemail or something". She shook her head, feeling foolish but needing to get on with what she wanted to do.

"I just wanted to say that I'm doing something life-changing in a few hours, and I want to ask you to help me with that. I mean, if what I'm gonna do is too crazy, can you please stop me before I do it?", she chuckled and tears filled her eyes.

"I don't think I need to go into much detail, 'cause you probably know what I'm talking about, since you're God and all, so… yeah, if you can just do your stuff and guide me through this, that would be great". Donna took a deep breath and some tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh, and I also wanna thank ya, by the way. Whatever happens- doesn't matter how life goes for me… if- if for some reason Dean and I don't… if we don't get to stay together", she stopped herself, the mere thought of being without Dean breaking her heart into a million pieces. "I just need you to know that I'm grateful for every single second I've spent with him so far. He changed my life for the best and I-", her voice broke in a cry of happiness and fear, all at once, "I love him very much. He's the best man I've ever met". She took another deep breath, closing her eyes and wiping away the tears. 

Donna opened the bathroom door and went back to the bedroom. Dean hadn't moved, and she really didn't want to wake him up, but she couldn’t help but curl up into his side when she laid down. Without opening his eyes, Dean turned on his side, making space for her and throwing his arm around her waist. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep, at peace with her decision and hoping for the best.

‐‐—---------------

The next morning, Dean woke up to the sight of a naked Donna between his legs, lightly scratching his thighs with her fingernails. When he opened his eyes, she gave him a wet kiss on a spot dangerously close to his groin, instantly waking up his dick.

“‘Morning, handsome”, she sang, giving him another kiss, this time on his pelvis, right above the patch of hair framing his cock. 

“‘Morning to you too, Sheriff. What are you doing down there? Trying to murder me?”, he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Nah, just wanna put my mouth on ya. Ya know, repay what you did for me last night”, she replied, kissing the root of his hard cock. Even though Dean recognized he had great stamina, the way his body reacted so fast to Donna was amazing even to himself. He felt like he was 20 and horny all the time.

“You don’t have to pay me back-”

She interrupted him by holding his cock and surrounding it with her mouth. Donna moaned and sucked eagerly, placing her elbows on the bed to support her weight and lifting her hips to give him a view of her round, full ass.

“God, woman”, he hissed, enjoying the feel of her hot mouth on him. He lifted his head to take a good look at her, the main character of each and every one of his dirty dreams. 

Donna was being thorough, sucking and licking him like a lollipop, taking him as far as she could, dragging her lips around his dick and using her nails on his belly and thighs, making his breath hitch with every move.

Dean couldn’t help himself, so he reached for the messy bun on the top of her head and undid it, holding her long hair in a ponytail and fucking her mouth while guiding her up and down his length. The noises she was making and the feel of her tongue on the vein on the underside of his dick were driving him crazy. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fuck, Donna. Fuck, I’m gonna cum”, he warned after a particularly satisfying thrust, feeling that familiar pressure building up.

She sucked him further down her throat and swallowed, and he lost it, thick ropes of cum filling her mouth. Donna drank as much as she could, enjoying Dean’s taste and scent. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think of how much he helped free her from her inhibitions, showing her how good it was to have someone she could trust and feel comfortable to be herself around. 

Jody was the friend to first point out how Donna’s previous relationships hadn’t worked because the guys were assholes, and not because there was something wrong with her. But Dean was the first man to show her there were good guys out there, and how amazing it was to be treated with respect and love, to make her feel desired and sexy. 

She released his softening cock with a pop and started to get up to go clean her mouth, but Dean pulled her from the foot of the bed, grabbing her butt with both hands while he kissed her, shoving his tongue inside her mouth, finding the mess they made incredibly hot.

He licked and bit her lips gently, squeezing her buttcheeks and giving a light slap, making her gasp and hum. 

“God, baby, that was so dirty and sexy”, Dean said, hugging her waist with the intention of keeping her on top of him, but she shook her head, laying on her side of the bed and patting her chest, signaling that he should be the one covering her.

He accepted, placing one leg between hers and making himself comfortable on her breasts. Half of his body was on top of hers and they just stayed like that, in silence for a few minutes. Dean was listening to her heartbeats, while Donna was caressing his hair lazily, watching his post-sex doziness. His eyes were closed but he was awake, she could tell by his breathing. That seemed to be the right moment to put into action the plan she “discussed” with Jack during the night. She took a deep breath, gathering the necessary courage. 

“Dean?”.

“Hmm?”

“‘You awake?”

He chuckled, his deep voice resonating in her chest. “Yes, sweetheart. Ready for another one?”.

She giggled and shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, duh, of course I won’t deny another round, but that’s not what I was going to ask”.

Dean lifted his head a few inches and tilted his neck to look at her. “What, then?”

She looked down to meet his eyes, the clear green making her heart skip a few beats. Donna opened her mouth to speak and blushed deeply, unsure of where to start.

Dean looked worried. “What is it, D? Something wrong?”

“N-no! Everything is perfectly fine! Peachy”, she assured, voice higher than normal. 

“Okay, so tell me”. Dean waited, watching her face.

“Well, the thing is… I love you. You love me. I mean, you do, right?”, Donna asked, suddenly unsure, regardless of Dean having repeated many times how much he loved her. 

“I do, Donna. I love you so freaking much”, he smiled, stretching his neck further to give her a kiss.

“‘Kay, so we love each other, we’ve been together for a while now, we’re here in Vegas… Oh, shoot, Dean, what I wanna ask is if you wanna marry me!”

He stared at her in silence, his mouth opened in shock.

Five seconds later Donna was on the verge of tears, sure that he would say no and/or laugh on her face.

But Dean smiled, and the smile reached his eyes, showing the wrinkles that she found so adorable.

“Are you seriously asking me to marry you in Vegas? With Elvis as a minister and everything?”, he questioned, the playful smile still there.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, just answer my question or I think I’m gonna have a heart attack”, she pleaded, frowning a little and bracing herself for the blow.

“And you really thought I would say no to that? Me, Dean Winchester, say no to getting married in freaking Las Vegas?”

It was Donna’s turn to just stare at him, not quite following if that was a yes or a no. Her mind was blank, her insecurities taking over.

“Ask me again, Sheriff”, he said.

“What?”, she shook her head, sure she didn’t understand his request.

“I said, ask me again”, Dean repeated, reaching for her face and lovingly caressing her cheek.

“Okay”, she took a deep breath. “Dean Winchester, do you wanna marry me?”

“I do, baby. I would love nothing more than to marry you”.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Later that day, after they left the chapel as husband and wife and went to celebrate over burgers and beers, Donna sent a few pictures to Jody. Some she kept only for herself and Dean, so they could look at them every once in a while and relive the memory of what happened in Vegas.

THE END

---------------------------------------

Taglist: @sexyvixen7 ​; @candy-coated-misery0731​; @dean-winchester-lover99​; @thoughts-and-funnies​; @avanatural​; @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​; @eevvvaa​; @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes​; @djs8891​; @akshi8278​.

[findroleplay]

hi! I’m 21f looking to get back into rping regularly! I really love doing doubles and oc’s! I love brainstorming characters and ideas :) I’m looking for a rp partner to be 20+ and be semi-lit/lit. I typically write several paragraphs, but I typically don’t mind shorter responses if they’re well written in third person! Quick overview of me for anyone interested:

Literacy: Semi lit/lit (it’s been a bit, so I might be a little bit rusty at first 😭)

Fandoms: Marvel/Spiderverse & Supernatural (I’m typically flexible and am willing to research characters outside of those ones, they’re just what I’m most familiar with!)

Characters I can write for: Tony Stark, Hawkeye, Thor, Captain America, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Scott Lang, Peter B. Parker, Lyla, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel, Lucifer (Casifer), Crowley, as well as most background/side characters!

Characters I prefer to write against: Bucky Barnes, Loki, Fandral, Miguel O’Hara, Castiel

—Again, I’m absolutely willing to research characters and play them so if you’re interested in a specific character from these fandoms that I didn’t list lmk and I could probably make it work!!—

Ships: I’m most comfortable doing double ocxcc pairings with each partner having an oc :) (can be mxf, fxf or mxm!)

Triggers: incest & pedophilia are hard nos for sure, but we can discuss more in depth triggers once a plot is determined!

Plot ideas: I have a couple plot ideas for specific characters (mainly Asgardian/Spiderverse plot ideas) if you’re interested, but I’m also open to brainstorming new ideas!

Where: I’m not superr familiar with creating discord servers but I’d absolutely be down to learn and use it, but we can also use tumblr to brainstorm ideas as well!

Anyways I hope everyone has a great day and if you’re interested pls interact and I’ll reach out!! 🩷

.

[wh-4-theduck]

🦇🩸-Thirsty-🩸🦇

A Sam Winchester X Vampire Y/n Fanfic

By "Z"

WARNINGS: mentions of child abuse and SA (id like to think very mild)

Chapter 1 - The Turn

I am 171 years old, born in 1834. In the month of October, funny enough… ya know me being a vampire. October…? Seems like destiny to me. 

Back to storytelling…

I am 171 years old, born in 1834. To a Family named the Burners. My Father, head of the house, was a horrible man. He beat me often, along with my other sisters. My Mother couldn’t fight him, so she helped clean us up after each beating. As we got older it got worse, becoming more sexual and he started intoxicating us. 

One night, after my father had stopped… playing with me… I packed my bags and left. Running away and leaving my family behind. 

After I got far enough, I found a run-down cabin. I decided to take refuge in it, My fault. I didn’t know it was a home for my soon to be maker. Lets just say 1859 was the start of my new life, I was a vampire.

I was New. 

Who knew dying and being reborn was so… refreshing?

It's like staying in a musky house for ages, then going outside and breathing in the fresh air. Then add on the fact that you're totally healed from past injuries, eyes wide open. Hair is silk smooth and healthy. You are Healthy. 

I can never thank my maker enough for the new life he gave me.

I did stay a little salty though during the beginning, I was raised to think all vampires and witches were horrible and killers. My Maker though, he was the love of my life… in a best friend way- but being his kin I guess I was made to think that. 

But Thomas… My Tommy. I love him. Loved him. I love my tommy to death. 

Me and Tommy were soulmates, he was meant to turn me. Me and him were a thing once, we always fooled around. But if we needed breaks or met other people, then we always returned back to friends. Best Friends. 

He trained me in vampiric ways, working on my skills. Magic, Speed, Agility, Flexibility, Feeding, etc.  

Then the hunting began, we were experts after a while. Killing any monster that came our way. It was that way for a long time, on the way we helped train vampires in hunting and how to keep their thirst under control. Me and Thomas had learned the “vegetarian” way, feeding on animals though we did it only to keep our thirst and kill count low. 

Some- by some I mean most refused, we couldn’t blame them though. We love human blood. Though we were grateful for the ones that took on the “vegetarian” life, it helped conceal our true identities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

IK i always keep these short but I've been binging Supernatural- fell for Dean first but omg SAMMY

Im telling you this will have sammy having a mommy kink in here someday because i only have 4 chaps on this so far and its already getting sad.

Thomas (Tommy) is a character I made up, wanted to give Y/n some past life and giving her a "Maker" was one of the things i wanted

and i wanted her to feel "saved" when she got turned.

And Im in love with Vampires so she had to be a vamp immediately