#it goes on for a long while sorry dean

[quietwingsinthesky]

Soooo badly want to combine twin!au with the “chuck has been mindcontrolling luci for years and it’s only just now stopped working so he’s back in s5 character” because can you imagine how distressing that would be for everyone involved?

Like Lucifer’s in full control of himself for the first time in years, after all the shit that went down post-s5, dealing with the repercussions of actions he performed but now honestly can’t tell which ones were things he would have actually done of his own volition and which were God yanking on his strings. And ALSO during that time he had sex in order to have a kid, but instead ended up with twins who no one wants him near! Because everyone hates him! And Heaven’s gone to shit, most of the angels are dead, the only archangel left alive is Michael and he’s still caged and Luci’s got no way of getting him out if he even wants to. (Which. Presumably he does. If only because at least he knows Michael and Michael hasn’t been on the receiving end of the shit he did the past few years and yeah, might still think of him as a monster but at least that was an image Lucifer was almost in control of.)

And then of course when he finally gets to see the twins, he gets to have a horrible moment of going “oh. Oh no. Oh no they’re me and Michael. God’s replaying the story again and with my kids.” Which is! Horrifying! For someone who has only just gotten free of having his entire character rewritten for the sake of being villainized easier by his own father!

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[fatecantstopme]

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

[sammyluvr]

my hands are yours — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, injury, canon violence, demons, possession, feelings of guilt, concussion, blood mentions, pet names (honey, baby), no y/n, not proofread, 2.8K words. requested !

summary : sam patches you up, ever guilty, after meg attacks you while possessing his body.

for parts of it, meg made him watch. she kept him conscious as she killed a fellow hunter, forced him to see parts of the encounter with jo and the punches she threw at dean. she went on a chaos-inducing, bloody spree with his body and his hands and she made him watch.

as for the worst part, meg had spent a long while debating how to make it as horrible to sam as she could. does she make him watch the whole while? show him glimpses? or keep him in the dark only to find out later what his hands have done.

she decides that any option would do, so she chooses the in between. for just a moment, she grants sam the sight of you, bloodied and bruised under his body, red on his hands. then it goes dark.

✶.◟

the second sam wakes, finally in control of himself and rid of meg, he’s disoriented. he looks at dean, then bobby. and for some reason you’re not in the room with them.

“sammy?” dean calls out, nose bleeding and bruises starting to form on the side of his face. it all comes back to him and he scrambles to stand up.

“where are they?” he breathes out, panicking already. neither dean nor bobby has to ask who you’re referring to.

bobby shrugs. “they weren’t answering the phone. we didn’t have time to find them before, ya know, you and that demon fucker showed up.”

“dammit,” sam curses, searching his pockets for his phone. he calls you with shaky hands; you’re on speed dial. bobby and dean watch with concern and sam’s face crumbles when you don’t pick up. neither question when sam crosses the room on quick, unsteady feet to grab the nearest computer. he types furiously, and they figure he’s tracking your phone. sam pays them no attention, none at all when he finds your location, or grabs the keys to the impala or rushes out the door.

he doesn’t make it to the car before dean stops him, stumbling a little from all the pain when he grabs sam’s wrist. sam whirls around and almost shoves dean before remembering that he’s injured. instead, sam pulls away easily.

“they’re hurt,” he practically growls, but there’s a hint of pleading behind the aggression.

“exactly,” dean counters, “you’re too freaked to drive.” 

sam looks dean up and down with a quick flick of his eyes. “i’m fine. you’re worse off than me, just– just keep calling them. so they know it’s really me.”

according to your phone gps, you’re only twenty minutes away. halfway through the achingly silent drive, his phone rings. he picks it up in a panic when he sees your caller id on the screen.

“baby?” he breathes into the phone, chest tight and eyes already teary.

“sam,” you sigh out. he wishes your voice weren’t distorted through the phone, but he’s sure he must’ve heard you in worse shape before. you’ve got to be alright, based on the way you say his name. “dean called me.”

“yeah.. it’s me, honey.” he swallows thickly, his fingers tightening around the wheel. “fuck, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry, baby.” 

“i know,” you whisper, sounding tired. that frightens him. “but it wasn’t you. it really wasn’t you. i know that now, and i knew it then. you gotta remember it wasn’t you.”

sam has to really focus to keep his eyes on the road. he has to blink away tears so that his vision is clear enough to drive safely. luckily the dark highway is almost completely empty. he can’t manage a proper response to your reassurance, so he changes the subject.

“honey.. where are you, baby? the map doesn’t show anything near you except the road.” he’s apprehensive as he asks, afraid to hear the answer despite already knowing it. you cringe softly, knowing too that he won’t like it.

“i’m in my car,” you murmur. you’re sounding more and more tired the longer he speaks with you. “on the side of the road.” sam doesn’t know what to say to that. it sends a pang through his chest. he doesn’t know exactly what happened, but he can imagine it. he can imagine meg finding you, cutting you off on your way to bobby. calling you and telling you to pull over; you haven’t heard that he’s possessed yet. you think it’s him on the phone. you wait just a minute for him on the side of the road. she pulls over next to you and comes out. most likely, you throw yourself into his arms, worried sick. he can imagine the way you’d cup his face and check him over, asking where he’s been.

then he imagines that meg says something subtly horrible to you. your face twists in confusion. then meg gets really mean. talks like him and tells you he doesn’t really love you, and that’s when you know it’s not him. that’s when she hurts you, beats you into the grass on the side of the road. sam knows that part because, in the glimpse that meg gave him, you were lying in the green, little flecks of red decorating the grass and blending in with dirt. and your eyes weren’t open

so you must’ve woken, mind fuzzy with pain and alone and rattled after seeing sam be the one to beat you until the work went dark. and that means you crawled or stumbled however you could, back to your car. he wonders how long you lay in the grass. how badly she injured you, how much it hurts right now. 

he comes back to you. “okay,” he whispers, voice taut and pained. “i’m coming to get you. i’m… i’ll be there soon, baby. just stay awake til then, okay?”

“i know,” you mumble. “i won’t fall asleep.” a soft pause. well, soft enough for you, but stiff and unforgiving to sam. “how long?”

“just under ten minutes now, honey,” he assures you, cursing silently at the way your voice slowly starts to reveal to him your state. it’s weak and tired and tells him that you’re missing him, wanting him closer, wanting his arms around you. you’re still seeking his comfort.

he can’t bear to hang up the phone, even when neither of you really have anything left to say. or really, anything that’s left you can get yourself to say. for you, it’s because you’re running out of energy; sam’ll feel so horrible, but you’re starting to think his fists to your face a couple times has given you a mild concussion. and for sam, he can’t get the right words out. everything gets stuck in his throat. he knows you don’t want to hear apologies from him, because none of it was his fault. but he’s guilt ridden and a little panicked because you only talk when he softly calls your name through the phone just to be sure you’re awake.

when he finally spots your car, it takes everything in him not to speed up to an unreasonable pace. but he peels off to the side of the road with a screech of tires and a worse than haphazard parking job. you’re in the passenger’s seat; you didn’t even try to make it to the driver’s. the door of the impala hangs open as sam runs straight to you.

he feels sick when he opens your car door, crouching down and reaching with sorry hands for your bloodied face. you look at him with soft eyes and a tired smile that he feels he most certainly doesn’t deserve. his stomach lurches at the sight of your blood and bruises and exhausted limbs.

“hey, honey,” he murmurs the second the door is open and you can hear him. “i’m here, it’s me, baby. i’m so sorry–” his fingers tense up just centimeters from your face. it’ll hurt if he touches you there, so he drops them to cup the side of your neck and shoulder. even then, his touch is feather light, as careful as he could get. “i’m sorry.”

“please don’t be,” you whisper back, just as softly, not as sadly. you’re just glad to see him, comforted to have him back. “don’t be sorry.” you watch him, soaking him and in presence. there’s no fear, no hesitation, no worry to have him close. his knuckles are split from making you bleed, but all you’d like to do is kiss them better.

the absolute trust and unadulterated affection that you watch him with could kill him. he knows that, logically, he’s inculpable in the crime of making you bleed. but he can’t seem to convince himself of that. he’s very sorry, and he’s sorry for that too, because he knows you wish he wasn’t.

“alright,” he breathes. “let’s get you out of here. bring you back to bobby’s to patch you up.” he almost moves to scoop you up into his arms to carry you to the impala, but thinks better of it. instead, he leans in and presses a kiss to an unbruised spot on your forehead. your eyes look a little unfocused and it frightens him. “gonna park the impala, i’ll be right back.”

“okay,” you sigh. admittedly, you don’t know exactly what he means in your hazy state, but he says he’ll be right back, so it is okay.

sam only takes the time to park and lock up the impala because dean would kill him otherwise. he makes it a quick job, and slides into your car’s front seat. the keys aren’t in sight when he glances around.

“baby?” he calls softly, meeting your eyes. you’re already watching him with sweet eyes. you had let out a little gasp of pain when turning your neck to look at him. “do you have the car key?” 

you blink and stare at him for a moment. then you give a quiet hum. “mhmm.” your hand isn’t too shaky when you reach into your jacket pocket and pull your keys out. he reaches right out to gently take them from you so you don’t have to move any further.

“thank you, honey,” he murmurs. he sets the keys in the cup holder, then twists in the seat to get as close to you as he can. sam grabs the seat belt and pulls it across your chest, buckling it and carefully rearranging your arms to be a bit more comfortable. his lips brush over your tender cheekbone, and your eyes drift closed for a second. oftentimes, he kisses you on the cheek or the forehead before bed. your lips too, of course. but it’s not time to sleep yet, so you set your hand on his and give a little squeeze before letting go.

his jaw clenches a little when your hand moves away. he doesn’t want to have to do anything but look at you. look after you. he’d much rather watch you than the road. to be sure your eyes don’t droop too much, in case you come to a bump and it jolts you and causes any pain.

sam settles for driving with one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours. you play lightly, weakly with his fingers and it makes his heart ache. he thinks about the way he can feel his heart pound in his chest. it feels different after being possessed, but he doesn’t think he could explain how.

loving you is the same, though. the fact that his heart pounds and pounds for you doesn’t change one bit. you’ve always made him feel like that saying of one’s heart leaping from their chest could really come true.

he has to softly implore you not to fall asleep a few times during the drive. he’s convinced now that you’re a bit concussed, and it terrifies him. no, it horrifies him. that the force of his hands could do that to you. and yet you affectionately fiddle with his fingers like you trust him more than anything.

sam is so soft when he draws you up onto his arms, not bothering to close the car door as he carries you to bobby’s front door. he winces when your cheek meets his shoulder and all the jostling causes you to gasp a little in pain.

and at the door, he pauses for just a second, only because he hates to raise his voice above a comforting murmur around you right now. but he has to be loud enough for dean or bobby to hear him. then the door swings open before he makes a sound, and he sighs in relief. they must’ve heard your car as it pulled into the gravelly driveway. sam ignores them both as he carries you straight to the spare bed, cradling you close and hating having to let you go, even when it means you’ll be much more comfortable on the mattress.

“there we go,” he mutters, half to himself once you’re settled. he feels dean hovering in the doorway, so he turns and tosses him the keys to the impala. “the car’s at the coordinates i left up on the computer,” he says simply, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgement from dean before turning back to you.

he finds the nearest first aid kit, drags up a chair, and commits himself to being the softest he can for you. a hard life has toughened his fingertips, but they are gentle as they erase the blood from your skin and spread ointment over your cuts and bruises. his voice is tender and quiet as he bandages you and says things like i love you and sorry, for the sting of alcohol. his lips are sweet on your forehead. 

“does your head hurt?” he asks softly, already preparing a few pills for the pain. he’s been working in partial darkness to not disturb you.

“yeah,” you answer through a huff of breath, too out of it to lie. your head pounds.

“okay,” he whispers. “we’re gonna have to be real careful. you might have a concussion. so i’m gonna have you take some painkillers, then get lots of rest, alright baby?”

“yeah. feels funny,” you slur quietly, not even sounding upset or anything. just tired, maybe even pleased because you’ve got sam fussing over you in the sweetest way possible. sam’s jaw clenches, but he indulges your tone because you’d rather he not worry so much.

“funny, huh?,” he says as though he’s smiling softly at you. his eyebrows give away his frown, though. “can we sit up for a second to take these pills?” you’d really rather not, so you give him a little pout. you’re just so tired. that look on your face, a little grumpy and stubborn, shows him that you really are a little fuzzy in the head. it’s adorable, certainly, but concerning to him just the same. he slides an arm under your shoulders, leaning over you so that your head lolls lightly onto his shoulder.

sam makes sure you don’t have to exert an ounce of effort to get you up; you lean fully against his body to stay upright. if you thought about it hard enough, you’d certainly be capable of holding yourself up, but he doesn’t give you the chance to have to think about it at all. you’re comfiest like this, so you’ll stay that way. if it didn’t hurt your head, you’d peer up through your eyelashes to catch a glimpse of his pretty face while it’s so close to yours.

he brings his hand to your mouth, tapping your chin gently when you don’t react accordingly. “open a little for me, please,” he whispers. you follow his instructions, just a bit mindlessly because he makes it easy to let yourself be taken care of. he places a pill on your tongue, then grabs a water bottle and brings it to your lips. it takes you two tries to swallow the pill, but the second one he gives you goes down a bit easier. “there you go,” he murmurs, carefully lowering you back into the bed. his big hand cradles the back of your head before settling you into the pillow.

he watches your eyes drift closed before he’s even said the words, you can rest now. his hands find yours.

the hands that hurt you weren’t his. this, you know. the hands that love you and patch you right back up are his and only his. so you hold them over your stomach when he’s done with it all and, eyes still closed, mumble, “i love you. i love your hands, sam.”

the hands that hurt you weren’t his. this, he has trouble accepting. the hands that love you and patch you right back up are not only his, but yours too. so he lets you hold them over your stomach when he’s done with it all and tells you, “they’re yours, honey. ’m all yours.”

[ellieslittleburrow]

Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

[mxltifxnd0m]

boyfriend headcanons ⟡ s. winchester

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.2K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, a smidge of angst in the beginning, some suggestive content, no smut, lowercase intended

a/n: i will make a dean version and probs a pt. 2 for sammy if I come up with some more headcanons! also did not expect this to be as long as it became lol

please enjoy and reblog and comment! i love hearing your thoughts.

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ some fears before dating you

before you got into a relationship with sam, he was very hesitant about dating or liking anyone romantically (he knows that he doesn’t have the best track record with love) 

but when you came into his life, you broke down those barriers (without him realizing it), and he became more accepting of his feelings for you (even if it scared him shitless) 

you had to drill into his head that whatever happened to you would never be his fault bc you knew he’d drown in his guilt if you got hurt or worse. it took time for him to accept that something would happen to you that it wasn’t his fault 

okay, now onto the more happy stuff (sorry didn’t mean to start with the more heavy stuff, lol) 

⟡ the actual headcanons 

he’s the best partner ever!! 

sam has a big heart and holds a lot of love for you, and though he can be hesitant to say the words for fear of jinxing the relationship (he’s superstitious about it), he shows how much he loves you through his actions! 

he would have a mix of all of the love languages (obviously, everyone shows a mix of them), but his top three would definitely be quality time, acts of service, and physical touch 

⟡ physical touch 

i think that early seasons sam would be much more tactical with his touch and showing you physical affection 

would use any and every excuse in the handbook to touch you in some way. resting a hand on your shoulder, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear or forehead, etc. 

but post szn 5 and 12 sam, he would shy away from it at first, and you would totally understand and let him take the approach first, never initiating it until he feels like he can handle it 

but this goes hand in hand with PDA  in any szn, he’s not big on PDA he’s okay with hand-holding and pecks on the lips, temple, or cheeks but not overt displays of affection but behind closed doors, it's free reign for him  aside from the PDA 

he LOVES getting his hair played with  like without a shadow of a doubt, i know in my heart of hearts that sam winchester is a fiend for getting his hair played with 

is a cuddle bug  doesn’t matter if it’s sweltering hot; he loves to have you in his arms no matter what secretly loves when it gets cold, you seek him out for warmth (he’s like a space heater from how much he radiates heat) 

FOREHEAD AND NECK KISSES!! (and lots of them) LOVES kissing you  there will be times when sam wants to make out with you in the back of the Impala. either to piss off dean or because you get no privacy in the motel room, you’re sharing with his brother. 

is the best hugger ever. it’s almost criminal how his arms can wrap around you and engulf your body and instill a feeling of safety in you, like no one could hurt you while you were in sam’s arms.

⟡ acts of service

as i’ve stated above, sam doesn’t express his love through words, but he does show it through his actions 

he knows all of your fav movies, flowers, music, snacks, how you like your coffee/tea, etc 

he actively listens to you and keeps track of the things you mention (he has them written down or in a note on his phone) and just pulls this information out when he needs it

will do things if asked of him by you without question (but within reason, lmao) 

(this also translates into fun times in the bedroom, LMAO)

don't know if this counts as an act of service, but sam loves putting things on the top self on purpose (to see you struggle a bit bc he thinks your pout is so adorable), but so you can ask him to get something for you, and does so with a smile on his face 

⟡ quality time

would use any excuse to spend time with you 

doesn’t matter if he just came back from a hunt and is exhausted; he would sit down and listen to you talk about what you had just read or what movie you watched while he was on a hunt 

will actively plan dates with you on hunts if he has downtime, which would most of the time be in the car with Dean and asking him for help or input  "they'll like whatever you plan for them. now, for the love of god, please shut up!" (sam had been pestering dean most of the car ride home about where to take you on the first date and was fed up with his little brother)

having movie nights!

spending time in either his or your room reading or just basking in the presence of each other, content with sitting in silence, grounding him with your touch as you guys fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

late-night conversations in bed! more often than not, your pillow talk with sam would turn into very late-night conversations and sometimes even turning into early-morning chats.

⟡ protective

this is a given, but sam is so protective of you that it can be a problem at times

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but his mind is an overactive one and can be a little (a lot) protective of you 

I think if you were a hunter, he’d be such a worrywart because he knows what this life does to someone and kinda hates that you are one (even if this is how you guys met in the first place lol) 

but it’s the same if you’re not a hunter because he’d be paranoid that a monster would be out to get you if they knew you were even associated with him or his brother 

he’d take so many precautions: teaching you the basics of hunting (but making you promise that you won’t go out and hunt), teaching you self-defense, gifting you an anti-possession charm (or going with you if you want the tattoo), painting demon traps under your rugs, salting windows, and maybe even convincing you to move into the bunker with him 

⟡ some random ones 

wearing his clothes his chest warms and his heartbeats faster each time he sees you wear something of his he does go a little feral when he sees you wear nothing underneath his clothes unfiltered sassy sam before the two of you started to date, you would catch glimpses of sassy sam when he would banter with dean but when you started to dish out some of your quips in the conversation and being a smartass to him that's when the sassy man apocalypse hit him, and it snowballed into him out-sassing you sometimes when the two of you could get into a back-and-forth

teases you about your height  it doesn't matter if you're an inch shorter or a foot shorter than him; he can and will tease you about your height it brings him much amusement when you snap back with jokes of your own or when you blush when you don't have a snappy retort (yes, it means he has a size kink, but shhh, no one is supposed to know)

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Seven

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, idiots in love lol

A/N: Almost done part 8, if you have anywhere you'd like to see the fic go or a certain scene you want dm me :) always open to ideas i just make this shit up as i go lmaooo

----

Your apartment is a swirl of energy as Wanda and Natasha flit around you, each one fussing over the details of your look as you finish your glass of wine. Natasha is practically vibrating with excitement, rummaging through her makeup bag, while Wanda holds out another pair of earrings for you to try. They’re both doing their best to hype you up for this date with Dean, a guy Natasha knows from work.

“You look amazing,” Wanda says, stepping back to admire the final touches.

Natasha grins, tipping her glass to you with a smirk. “Dean isn’t going to know what hit him.”

You laugh, a bit giddy from the wine and the thrill of doing something for yourself. The nerves are there too, though—you haven’t been on a date in ages, and the whole situation feels slightly surreal. Just as you’re about to put your glass down, the front door opens, and loud laughter and chatter fill the entryway. You freeze, your pulse spiking.

“I thought they were supposed to be down the street at the bar?” you hiss, looking at Natasha with wide eyes.

She frowns, confusion flashing across her face. “They are supposed to be.”

Natasha strides out of the room, muttering under her breath as she goes to investigate. You hear her confront them, her voice sharp with irritation. “Why are you guys here? You’re supposed to be at the bar!”

Bucky’s voice cuts through the hallway, a little louder than usual. “This is my place too, Nat. I pay rent here, so don’t expect me to stay away.”

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t ruin this for her.”

Before you can catch more of the conversation, Natasha’s phone pings, and her whole expression shifts as she squeals, rushing back into the room. “He’s here!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “Dean just texted—he’s waiting downstairs!”

Your stomach does a flip, and you take a deep breath to calm the nerves. “Is he… is he coming up, or am I going down?”

Natasha studies you for a second, eyebrows raised. “It’s up to you. What do you want?”

You bite your lip, the idea of Dean seeing you in the apartment suddenly feeling way too intimate, especially with Bucky just down the hall. “I’ll go down,” you say, nodding firmly.

Natasha grins, quickly typing a message to Dean. “Alright, you’ve got three minutes to compose yourself, babe.”

With one last look in the mirror, you step out of the room, heart pounding as you walk down the hallway. The boys are in the living room, and as soon as Sam spots you, he lets out a low whistle, his eyes widening.

“Wow,” he says, looking you up and down with an approving grin. “You clean up real nice.”

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks as Steve and Bucky turn around. Steve’s gaze softens, and he steps forward, his eyes warm and admiring. “You look beautiful,” he says, his voice gentle. “Dean’s the luckiest guy in the world.”

He looks at you with an intensity you’ve never seen from him before, a look that’s almost… longing. You give him a grateful smile, feeling oddly touched. “Thanks, Stevie,” you say softly.

Bucky, however, is still standing a little behind Steve, his jaw slightly slack as he stares at you, seeming momentarily at a loss for words. His gaze travels from your face to the dress, his expression a mix of something you can’t quite name, something unreadable and raw. For a second, the noise and chaos around you fades, and it’s just the two of you, caught in that moment.

Sam, sensing the tension, jumps in with a grin. “Damn, girl, you look hot. Sure you don’t wanna go on a second date with me instead?”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Sorry, Sam. Dean would have to blow it pretty badly for you to get a chance.”

Natasha claps her hands, breaking up the moment as she walks over to you. “Text me if you get a chance or if you need an emergency out. And I need all the details afterward.” She gives you a quick, tight hug, whispering in your ear, “You’re going to be amazing. Just have fun.”

You nod, smiling gratefully as you give her hand a squeeze. With one last look at your friends, you make your way to the door, the nerves hitting you all over again.

As you head downstairs, the sound of laughter and chatter fades behind you, but back in the apartment, the energy shifts. Steve watches you go, a glint of something deep and wistful lingering in his gaze. Natasha catches it, her brows knitting together as she studies his face, watching the way he’s so intently focused on you, even after you’ve disappeared down the stairs.

Natasha squints, suspicion curling in her thoughts. Steve’s expression isn’t the typical friendly warmth she’s used to seeing; there’s something almost pained, raw, and it’s as if a puzzle suddenly clicks into place. Her mouth parts slightly as she realizes—Steve isn’t just fond of you; he’s in love with you. She composes herself quickly, straightening as Steve gives her a look, as if sensing her scrutiny. He shrugs, brushing off the intensity of the moment, and cracks open a beer, plopping onto the couch like nothing’s happened.

Meanwhile, Bucky is still standing, staring at the door as if you might reappear any second. His gaze is fixed, a blend of surprise and… something else. Wanda notices, shaking her head with a quiet scoff.

“You know, you had your chance, Bucky,” she says, her tone sharper than usual.

The room falls silent, everyone taken aback by her bluntness. Wanda’s usually gentle, never one to make waves, but there’s a bite to her words now, and her eyes flash with something almost like annoyance as she glances at him.

Sam, trying to break the tension, chuckles and sidles up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Damn, Wanda, I knew you had some fire in you!” He laughs, grabbing her glass. “Come on, let’s get you a refill.” He leads her toward the kitchen, topping off her wine glass as they disappear into the next room, leaving Bucky, Natasha, and Steve in the thick silence.

Natasha crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Bucky with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Really, Bucky?” she says, her voice low and pointed.

Bucky blinks, snapping out of his daze. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t stand there looking like that. Just a week ago, you were talking about how you were going to do something about it. You said you were finally going to tell her. But you didn’t. And now you’re acting shocked that she’s moving on? Seriously?”

Bucky’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He fumbles, his hands tightening into fists. “It’s not that simple, Nat…”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha says, her voice steely. “You’ve had years, Bucky. Years to figure it out, and now that she’s found someone who sees her, someone who’s willing to step up and actually do something about it, now you’re all caught up? Do you even know how unfair that is?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, his gaze drifting to the floor. “I… I didn’t think she’d actually… go for someone else.”

Natasha lets out a frustrated sigh, her tone bordering on exasperation. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that. She deserves to be happy, Bucky. She deserves someone who’s not afraid to act, someone who can show her they care instead of just assuming she’ll be there whenever he decides he’s ready.”

Bucky’s face flushes with a mix of frustration and guilt. “It wasn’t that simple. I didn’t want to lose her if things went wrong…”

Natasha’s expression softens, but only slightly. “No, Bucky, you were just scared. You were scared to take a risk and put yourself out there. But she’s spent all these years waiting, and you couldn’t even see what you had. And now that she’s going out with someone who’s willing to treat her like she deserves, you think you can just… act like she still owes you her heart?”

Bucky stares at her, words failing him, the weight of her words hitting him hard. He’s known Natasha to be blunt, but he didn’t expect her to be this brutally honest.

Natasha lets out a sigh, glancing at Steve, who’s been sitting quietly, observing, his eyes downcast. She notices the way he’s twisting his beer bottle in his hands, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something. The tension in his face is palpable, and she realizes with a pang that he’s feeling this conversation deeply, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

She softens her tone slightly, though her words are still firm. “I hate to say it, Bucky, but… you snoozed, and you lost. She deserves more than to wait around forever for someone to decide if they can handle loving her.”

Bucky’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he looks away, as if trying to avoid the weight of her words. “I thought I was protecting her. I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpens, her voice almost a whisper. “Protecting her from what? From being loved the way she deserves? Because that’s what you’re doing, Bucky. You’re keeping her from happiness because you’re afraid to make a move. But she’s not going to wait forever. She’s already stopped waiting.”

She glances toward Steve again, catching the way his shoulders slump slightly, the sad, resigned look in his eyes. Natasha’s lips press together as she puts two and two together. She’d been watching him closely all night, and now, looking at him, it’s clear as day. He’s in love with you too. The realization sends a pang through her, and she composes herself, though the sadness lingers in her eyes.

She turns back to Bucky, her voice softer but no less firm. “You can’t have it both ways, Buck. Either you want her, or you don’t. And if you don’t, then let her be happy with someone who actually sees her, someone who isn’t afraid to let her in.”

Her words hang heavily in the air. Steve shifts uncomfortably, lifting his beer to his lips as if to hide the look in his eyes. Bucky lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair.

--

As you step out of your apartment building and spot Dean right away. He’s leaning against his car, a relaxed smile spreading across his face as he straightens up when he sees you. He’s tall, broad-shouldered like Bucky, but everything else about him is different. Where Bucky is dark and a bit rough around the edges, Dean is blond, clean-cut, and sharp in a tailored navy-blue button-down and jeans.

“Hey,” he says, his smile widening as he takes you in. “Wow. You look… incredible.”

You can’t help but blush, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Thank you. And you’re not looking so bad yourself.”

He laughs, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You nod, slipping your arm through his, feeling a surprising ease settle over you. There’s no tension, no weight from the past—just the excitement of a first date and the feeling that tonight might actually be something good.

The two of you end up at a cozy bistro down the street, the kind of place with low lighting and an intimate atmosphere. It’s bustling but not too loud, with the hum of conversation and the soft clink of silverware filling the air.

As you settle into your seats and glance over the menu, Dean looks up with a playful grin. “So, full disclosure—I know next to nothing about wine. But I figured I’d go with the flow since you seem like the classy type.”

You laugh, glancing down at the wine list. “Well, we can just wing it together. I’m more of a ‘whatever tastes good’ kind of person.”

“Perfect,” he says, signalling the waiter over. “A bottle of your favourite wine, then. Surprise us.”

When the waiter leaves, Dean leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his attention completely focused on you. “So, Natasha talks about you a lot. I feel like I already know a little about you… but I’d rather hear it from you.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, she does? Should I be worried?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no. She’s your biggest fan, actually. She said you’re the one everyone goes to for advice. Like, you’re the unofficial therapist of the friend group.”

“Oh, gosh,” you say, laughing and covering your face. “She makes me sound way too put together, I’m really just good at listening.”

“Well,” he says, a twinkle in his eye, “I’m going to test that tonight. You’ll have to sit there while I unload all my existential woes.”

“Lay them on me,” you reply, grinning. “I’m ready.”

He leans back, pretending to think. “Okay, first existential crisis: why are Brussels sprouts so divisive? Seriously, no one’s just ‘meh’ about them, people either love them or hate them.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I know, right? I mean, they’re just tiny cabbages. It’s not that deep!”

“Exactly!” he says, pointing at you with an exaggerated look of triumph. “See, you get it…. and now I know I can trust you. This date is officially off to a solid start.”

You laugh, feeling genuinely at ease. When the wine arrives, the two of you clink glasses, settling into a comfortable rhythm of laughter and banter.

“So, tell me,” Dean says, after the waiter clears your plates. “If you could pick anywhere in the world to live, where would you go?”

You take a sip of wine, thinking it over. “Hmm… somewhere with a mix of city life and nature, I think. I want the excitement, but I’d need a place to escape to, you know?”

He nods, his gaze warm as he listens. “I get that. I’m a city guy myself, but every now and then, I need to get out, hit a hiking trail, or just… breathe.”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “Somewhere with balance. Not too much of one or the other.”

He grins, raising his glass again. “To balance, then.”

“To balance,” you echo, clinking glasses with him once more. There’s a spark in his eyes, an ease in his laugh, that makes you feel like you’ve known him longer than just tonight.

The conversation flows seamlessly, with no awkward silences, no scrambling to think of what to say next. You talk about favorite movies, disastrous childhood crushes, and the time you both got stuck in terrible jobs after college—he was an assistant to an eccentric artist, while you worked as a receptionist at a law firm where you barely understood the jargon. He tells stories that have you practically in tears with laughter, like the time his mom signed him up for a tap-dancing class because she was convinced it would help him become more “well-rounded.”

“Tap dancing?” you ask, eyes wide with laughter. “Please tell me there’s a video of this.”

“There’s a video,” he admits, grimacing. “But it’ll never see the light of day. That’s a first-date boundary I’m sticking to.”

You shake your head, laughing. “I respect that. But now I feel like I’ll have to wait for date number two for that one.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin mischievous. “Date number two, huh? So, you’re already planning to see me again?”

You feel a little thrill at his words, but you play it cool, taking another sip of wine. “Maybe. If you play your cards right.”

“Oh, I’m bringing out my best moves, trust me,” he says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I’ve already pulled out the Brussels sprouts bit. That’s a crowd favorite.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “It’s working…I have to admit.”

There’s a warmth in his gaze as he watches you laugh, and for once, you realize you’re completely in the moment. You’re not comparing him to anyone, not glancing at the door or waiting for a text, not thinking about Bucky or any of the unresolved feelings you’ve kept buried. Tonight, it’s just you and Dean, and everything feels light and uncomplicated.

“So,” he says after a pause, his tone shifting just slightly, “what’s something you want people to know about you, that most people don’t?”

You blink, surprised by the question. “Wow, that’s a deep one.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he teases, but his smile is gentle, his expression open and curious.

After a moment’s thought, you answer, “I think… I want people to know that I’m stronger than they might think. I don’t always show it, but I’ve been through things that have taught me a lot about who I am and what I want.”

He nods, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And for the record, I think strength isn’t always about what you show. Sometimes, it’s what you keep inside.”

The sincerity in his voice takes you off guard, and you feel your heart skip. “Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“Of course,” he says, his voice warm. “I feel lucky to be here with you tonight.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling. When you’re finally ready to leave, he insists on walking you back, saying he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. The street is quiet as he walks beside you, his hand close to yours but never crossing the line. You like that about him—his respect, his gentle confidence.

As you reach your building, he stops, looking down at you with a smile that’s both warm and hopeful.

“So, date number two?” he asks, a hint of nervousness in his smile.

You smile, feeling light and happy in a way you haven’t in a long time. “I’d really like that.”

He grins, and before he leaves, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. “Goodnight, beautiful,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

You watch him walk away, your heart racing and a smile on your face. As you head upstairs, you realize something incredible—throughout the entire night, your mind hadn’t wandered once. No stray thoughts, no memories pulling you back. Tonight, it had just been you, fully present, fully open, and for the first time in a long time, you feel ready for something new.

[titforatat]

let me remind you (with sweet tears in your eyes)

posted here on ao3.

check out pt. 1! — check out pt. 2!

warnings: nsfw

coryo pov, under-negotiated kink, light bondage, dacryphilia, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, blow jobs, nipple play, pinv sex, coryo just needs to prove that he can fuck you right, overstimulation, porn with feelings, aftercare, simp coryo!

word count: 9,328 (i’m literally so sorry)

summary:

All jealousy is rooted in control. After you visit him at the office, Coryo’s determined to remind you that only he can bring you pleasure beyond your wildest imagination.

excerpt under the cut:

“Well,” Phipps breathes. “Panem’s most beautiful victor, before my very eyes. I never expected such a pleasure.” 

Something clenches in Coryo’s jaw.

You laugh modestly, giving Phipps a neutral smile. “The pleasure’s mine, I’m sure.”

There’s an awkward pause before Phipps rushes on. “I’m Julius Phipps, the Dean of the Academy. It really is a pleasure to meet you.”

Another polite nod from you, along with your own unnecessary introduction. Everyone in the Capitol knows who you are. Coryo understands that, having been the driving force behind it while promoting you for the Games—but being faced with it in the aftermath makes him nearly nauseous with jealousy.

No, not jealousy, he tries to mollify. I have you, and he doesn’t. I’ve had you wrapped around my cock, dripping down my chin, clawing at my skin—not him, not anyone. Just me. 

“How long have you been in the Capitol?” 

Ice crackles underneath his skin. You shoot Coryo a small look and say graciously, “Not very long at all.”

“Well, I hope you’re enjoying our beautiful city,” Phipps replies. “I was gutted when Juno told me you wouldn’t be at this year’s opening ceremony. It seemed, for a while there, that almost no one knew where you were.” 

Coryo’s on his feet suddenly, chair skidding across the floor. It’s loud enough to make Phipps jump. “What is it you needed to tell me, Dean Phipps?” 

You take advantage of the interruption, gathering yourself quickly. “I’ll head back down to the car, then. Tigris and I are stopping by the fabric shop. It was nice meeting you, sir.” You shoot Coryo a plastic smile and tilt your head in goodbye. “Goodbye, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus. It shoots through him like a bullet, and the grip he has on the edge of his desk goes taunt enough to make the wood creek. 

Before you can fully escape, Phipps reaches out his hand for you. You give him your own, and with a bow, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

Coryo’s teeth grind together, and he tries to stop seeing the world in red. I’ll have your entire family name disgraced, old man.

“Have a nice afternoon,” Phipps tells you. Echoing the sentiment as politely as you can, you dash out the door.

Like a man with a death wish, Phipps watches you go. When he turns back to Coryo, he has a gleeful look on his face.

“Even prettier in person,” he marvels. “I thought so during the Games, although she looked quite wild at the end.” He gives Coryo a lascivious, conspiratorial look. “That’s a District girl’s charm, though.”

Disgraced isn’t good enough. I’ll see this bitch hanged. 

please check out this fic on ao3 using the link above! 💕

[dotthings]

Okay, strap in, I'm going deep dive on Dean and Cas during their S15 breakup and going to address some things about The Trap. (It's long, there's a lot to unpack).

Castiel: What he did wasn't bad. It was the absence of good. And I saw that in him. But we were a family, and I didn't want to lose that, so I thought I could fix it on my own. Felt like it was my responsibility. So I left. And I didn't tell you. If I could go back and just -- just talk to him right then and there, I would. But I can't, Dean. I failed you. And I failed Jack. And I failed --

(14.18, Absence)

What Cas was about to say it seems, when Dean cut him off, was that he failed Mary, along with Dean, and Jack.

Cas is fully acknowledging his culpability and his failures.

His clinging to the idea he had to fix it on his own is similar to his S6 mindsets, but with way less hubris. This isn't about his hubris, but it's a holdover of Cas's stubbornness.

It's not true there was no growth. There's no arrogance in Cas now. That doesn't mean he's over all his neurosis. That's not how this works. But it's not the same as the past.

Why is Cas expected to be over everything and never backslide from some people, while Dean gets sympathy and understanding when he does? Neither of them cleanly break from their traumas and old patterns, they do grow, they do move forward, it's not repeating the same.

It's also patently untrue that Cas never owns up to his mistakes, never apologizes, never suffers consequences. Cas has owned up to his mistakes. Even sometimes pulls penance down on himself on purpose.

He doesn't just play at being sorry.

Dean's subjective pov from years ago (from late S7), at a point where Dean was understandably and rightfully hurt, frustrated, angry, but also scared for Cas, so he lashes out, terrified because Cas was suffering from PTSD, unable to fight, and he isn't the Cas he knows. He knows something's wrong. So Dean threw a board game onto the floor. It was all completely understandable to me and I felt for Dean. But it's interesting how this gets weaponized against Cas so people can claim Cas isn't actually sorry he just plays at being sorry, as if this is exposing some deep objective Truth, just like people take Dean's words in The Rupture that Cas is always the screw up as some deep objective Truth. When Dean is speaking from hurt, anger, fear.

Cas repeatedly apologizes to Dean in early S15.

He is not huffy because Dean didn't insta-forgive him.

The moment that broke Cas, where he decided to leave, was when he perceived Dean's walls against him to be so high and so rigid, Cas lost hope that anything would get better, that he could ever be forgiven. He really thought it was all over.

Remember that Dean already said, if Mary's dead, "you're dead to me" Remember Dean just said to Cas, "why does that something always seem to be you" about things going wrong, saying Cas is always the screw up.

Cas did not leave because Dean was mad at him.

Cas endured Dean being mad at him for how many episodes, late S14 through early S15, he didn't tell Dean he had no right to be, he didn't run away from it, he endured, and he repeatedly apologized.

Why did Cas leave, why did he leave, not because he saw Dean was angry. But because he lost hope.

Cas wasn't wrong to put some space, that's right for Dean as well as Cas, at that point, but he was wrong in his perceptions, and Cas's perceptions are heavily driven by his insecurities.

The same reasons that partly drove why he latched onto Jack so hard--loneliness, a need to feel useful, a need to feel needed.

While he's away Cas realizes he was wrong to give up. He gets a tiny sign that Dean still cares, and he comes back to try to fix it instead of running away.

It's not true there is no growth.

Cas goes back, things are tense but they are able to work together for a greater good and greater emergency.

And Cas volunteers to stand at Dean's side and return with Dean to Purgatory, where the leviathans who very specifically and personally hate Cas's guts and they all want him destroyed exist.

Don't tell me!!! Cas doesn't care about Dean!!!!!!

Dean wants to split up. He's still mad at Cas, he's allowed. But Cas rightfully points out that's more dangerous than staying together.

Don't tell me there's no growth!!!

In their first trip to Purgatory, Cas ran from Dean, to try to protect Dean. Despite Dean regarding it as abandonment, before Dean knew why Cas ignored his prayers every night, he still ransacked Purgatory, torturing monsters, looking for Cas. Refused to leave Purgatory without Cas. Even though he was angry and hurt.

When he finds Cas and Cas tells him the reason he hid from Dean--trying to draw the leviathans, to keep them away from Dean to protect Dean, Dean is absolutely gobsmacked.

This time, Cas knows it's better if they stay together. That he can protect Dean better if they stay together.

They have this conversation in Purgatory:

CAS: Well, this place will bring that out in you. Guilt. It was my fault the Leviathan got out. It was my fault we were here the first time. I carry that guilt every day. DEAN: I know you're sorry, Cas. About Bel, about Mom. CAS: I was talking about Jack. I already apologized to you. You just refused to hear it.

Let's unpack what is being said here. Cas comments on how Purgatory is a place that brings out feelings of guilt. He then acknowledges his culpability for S6, the leviathans, and that it was his fault he and Dean wound up thrown there at the end of S7. Dean says he already knows Cas is sorry about the screw up concerning Cas impulsively burning up Bel, and about what happened to Mary. Cas says he was thinking of his feelings of guilt about Jack, that he already apologized to Dean for the other things. And accuses Dean of not listening to him. Which isn't really true, but as far as Cas knows it's true because he has no way of knowing Dean really heard him, because Dean was putting up walls of iron.

DEAN: Sorry I brought it up. Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. CAS: You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me.

Getting down to the real roots of it now, Dean lets out a little confession. He's hurt about Cas leaving.

After Dean said "you're dead to me," after Dean said Cas is always the problem. Dean's mad at Cas, he's also mad at Cas for leaving. Get out--no wait, where are you going why are you leaving me.

Again, Dean is understandably hurt and he is really going through it with the inner conflict. He has rights to all his feelings. Pushing Cas away and wanting/needing him to stay at the same time, I can understand how Dean would be so conflicted.

There's nothing from either of them I don't understand, or that isn't understandable or sympathetic.

And Cas points that out, that Dean was putting up such high walls, Cas didn't know what else to do except leave. Is Cas being completely fair in how he words it? No. He's not immune to subjectivity and speaking from a place of hurt and frustration and fear of being rejected and making assumptions.

But he's not mad at Dean for being angry and this isn't canon saying Dean is wrong to be angry. "You couldn't move on" "you were too angry"--This was not a reprimand on Dean being angry. This was Cas explaining why he left. Cas left (as Cas explains) because a) it seemed self evident to Cas that Dean was never going to forgive him b) it seemed self evident to Cas that Dean was so angry at Cas there was no hope to fix it and that Dean no longer wanted him there.

It seems like a really bad faith reading to me to accuse Cas here of lecturing Dean on his anger, when what is actually happening is Cas is explaining why he left, because he can see Dean is hurt that Cas left.

And why is it from some people Dean is allowed his insecurities, his anger, his fears, but Cas has to be absolutely perfect and has to speak perfectly and without any subjectiveness, projections, or misunderstandings, at all times?

Cas feels deeply, as Dean does. He has feelings. He's a fully fleshed out character, as Dean is. A complicated character, and like Dean, with his own buzzing nest of trauma and insecurities in his brain.

"I left but you didn't stop me" finally Cas really getting to the heart of the thing. The actual root thing bothering him. Not that Dean was angry. It's that Dean let him leave without saying anything to try to stop him.

While Dean is hurt and feeling abandoned because Cas left.

This isn't about anger shaming Dean at all.

Cas isn't angry at Dean for being angry.

It is as simple in fact as Cas's fear of being unwanted, and wanting Dean to ask him to stay, and Dean's fear of being abandoned, and wanting Cas not to leave.

And then there's Dean's desperate prayer to Cas, which is another highly misunderstood scene, which gets taken as Dean "groveling" begging for Cas's forgiveness when it's entirely about Dean's own need to give forgiveness to Cas. Maybe, somewhat, saying what Cas needs to hear so Cas will stay, but it is most of all about what Dean needed to say, the same as Cas's happiness was saying what he did to Dean in 15.18. Just getting to say it. And having it be heard, is enough.

Because beneath all that absolutely justifiable anger and hurt, Dean doesn't want to lose Cas, he never actually meant for Cas to leave, didn't actually deep down want Cas to leave, and he doesn't want to lose Cas forever to Purgatory.

And Dean has a lot of fears about his anger. That he's nothing but anger, that he's only good for killing monster. This is Dean, who thinks he's "poison," who thinks people he loves are better off away from him. That isn't authorial voice. That is Dean's own fears. He can't see his own love, his own big heart. He can't see his own kindness and empathy and how deeply he loves and feels and his own goodness.

But Cas can. Cas never doubted that Dean was good or that Dean is the most caring loving human ever, what Cas doubted was about Dean still caring about him.

And then he realized he was wrong. Before Purgatory II, before hearing Dean's prayer even, he already figured out he was wrong in his assumptions on how Dean felt about him, but Dean still needed to say it, and I think Cas did need to hear it even if he already knew.

How people think Dean's anger is a late seasons invention utterly baffles me. But it's not that Dean being angry is wrong, it's that how people express their anger has ripple effects. Because that's true of everyone!!!!!!! If this reads to people as "anger shaming" then they are endorsing the idea that people should just let their anger eat them alive and destroy everything, burn it all down, no matter how much harm it does for the person who is angry.

What Dean is scared of is that his anger, the way it expressed, the hard walls he put up, the words he said, going against what was actually deep in his heart, chased Cas away when he didn't mean for that to happen.

Dean could have yelled at Cas and giving him the cold shoulder in the bunker and Cas would have endured it, if Cas hadn't gotten the impression Dean absolutely no longer wanted him around.

Is Cas completely blameless? Of course not. He made his mistakes. And he could have been more perceptive about Dean and not let his own insecurities dominate how he views things but given how driven by insecurities Dean's pov on Cas is, how is it people want to turn Cas into the monster, and only comprehend Dean, when Cas is a mirror to Dean?

Some truly can't let go of the idea that Cas into an unfeeling monster who doesn't really love Dean, that Cas is selfish and manipulative and abusive and that he doesn't care about Dean.

I want to go out into the woods and scream.

[scoobydoodean]

Why do ppl get so upset about the john parallels? all the ones ive seen from you and others have great parallels and they’re not necessarily negative.

i thought they were very nicely done

sorry i’m just very confused about which john parallels ppl get upset about

<3 John's name is basically synonymous with Satan in this fandom but the dude isn't Palpatine. He's an important figure whose actions certainly loom over the narrative, but he wasn't a mustache-twirling villain. He loved his kids. He neglected his kids. He was an alcoholic. He was traumatized. He wanted to protect his kids. He went about protecting them in all the wrong ways because he was afraid. He was genuinely not afraid to cry despite common fanon portrayal. He was the kind of guy who told his son soccer was a waste of time (1.08) but quietly stored his trophy in a storage unit because he couldn't actually bear to throw his trophy away (3.03) . He was the kind of guy who disowned Sam but then couldn't stop swinging by Stanford to check on him (1.08, 1.20). He was stubborn and revenge blind and swallowed by grief. He spent his whole life prioritizing everything in the world over his oldest son's safety and blaming him for his own parenting failures but then turned around and died for Dean and apologized for everything. The fact that he was never some purely evil villain while doing the hurtful things he did is what makes him such a compelling narrative force long after his death and what makes it impossible for Sam and Dean to simply reject him in pure unapologetic hatred.

Sam is heavily mirrored with John in the early series, but because this is a story about breaking the cycle and not actually a story about continuing the cycle, season 1, for example, ends with Sam turning from his alignment with John's blind desperation for vengeance and standing beside Dean who wants to place their family's lives over the demon instead. John tries to get Sam to shoot him in the heart and Sam refuses because Dean begs him to stop. The story of Supernatural has familicide as a throughline—specifically, the idea that sons killing fathers and fathers killing sons and brothers killing brothers is "inevitable" and "inescapable". But the other throughline of Supernatural is that free will exists and nothing is as set in stone as cosmic beings would like to lead mortals to believe. Killing ones brother/child for the "greater good" is a fate angels and demons and fathers and gods repeatedly tell Dean he is doomed for, and Dean repeatedly thwarts the destiny to kill his brother/son because the story is actually about our characters breaking the cycle and isn't actually about them continuing it. Dean refusing to kill his brother/son for the "greater good" no matter how hard Chuck tries to push him to do so through force and threats and manipulations is what leads Chuck to snap. Chuck literally goes crazy at the end of 14.20 specifically because Dean refuses to fall into the familicide cycle.

In the same way, Cas showing shades of John's tendency to go radio silent and try to do everything on his own and sometimes neglecting the people he loves in the process? These are pitfalls that are perfectly surmountable given some self reflection and communication. He is not doomed to this.

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 3

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1418

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but it's finally here! You and Dean finally meet, and the world you've just settled into threatens to give in // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 2

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

From the moment you had left Ellen's bar, you had felt a unique kind of dread, the emptiness in your heart widening with each step you took away from the person you had destined to be with. 

But it is the best for both of you, that you are sure of. 

You don't hesitate to admit that you are selfish to try to save yourself from prospective heartbreak or have the possibility of going through what your mother had gone through, especially when you now knew that he was a hunter as well. 

"Morning, Y/N." Chris mutters with a quick kiss to your neck as he hugs you from behind. 

"Good morning." You smile as you turn and close the gap between your lips. You were making coffee after getting up from the bed you share with Chris, and this has become a new normal for you. 

It has been a couple of weeks since you landed in the small town of New Harmony, Indiana.

Excluding a few aches, cuts and bruises that aren't visible or have a cause, you have had no interactions with the supernatural - willingly keeping off from reading news or watching it on the TV.

You know your intuitions won’t help pick off the signs of those activities in the world, you're just going to ignore it.

Well, you did investigate Old Neil's Cabin, and having found that he hasn't hurt anyone yet, you let him be - but not before making a note on where he is buried. 

It's a simple start to the day as it has been for a while now, and for some reason, there remains a feeling that something is wrong - or better yet, something is missing.

Still, as you help around Chris’ family diner and motel, there remains the familiar signs of adrenalin rush that you know come from hunting, even when you’re doing something as mundane as getting a plate of fries to the customers.

There is random quickening of your heartbeat, and the dreams of his green eyes, when you’ve only seen them once.

So in this quaint little town, the sun dips below the horizon once more, casting a warm glow across the streets. Your break from the hunting life gave you a little bit of solace in this peaceful corner of the world. The semblance of normalcy feels like a weird sense of relief.

And today, it just seems like it will be happier than many before.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester, the ever-determined hunter, was on the road once again with Sam beside him. This time, he is a little serious - with the short time frame of his inevitable death hanging over his head. 

But he is happy today, it's his birthday today, and Sam got him a box of little things, from his favorite aftershave to a smart-looking watch.

He feels a little guilty while thanking him because he doesn't trust him enough to keep a secret from Ruby, he hasn’t told his brother about his soulmate yet. 

He doesn’t want to know what limits the demons will test with someone they can hurt him with, even without getting a hold of him.

“I’m hungry.” Sam complains while reading a newspaper. 

“I’ll pull up to the next diner I see.” Dean says. “Besides, it's been too long since I got a belly full of something cheesy.”

“You had a lunch full of cholesterol yesterday, Dean.” Sam reprimands him with a shake of his head.

Dean’s stomach rumbles just in time as a reply to Sam’s comment. “Let’s find some food in this town.”

Some time later, they come across a diner, and Dean wastes no time hauling up next to it. The bell above the door tinkles as they enter.

“Finally.” Dean mutters, glancing around the diner. It isn't overly crowded, probably just a few locals scattered across the booths. He spots an empty seat by the window and starts walking towards it, Sam following closely.

As Dean studies the menu, Sam leans across the table. “You know, man, you’ve been acting a bit weird lately. Anything you wanna talk about?”

Dean sighs, trying to avoid this conversation. “Not today.” And with efforts to do so, he averts his eyes, flitting them across the diner.

But then, his eyes lock onto a waitress, her seeming oddly recognizable. He swallows hard, torn between his instinct to approach and the fear of her reaction.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulls him from his trance. “You okay?”

He shakes his head, plastering on a faint smile to mask his nervousness. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Sam comments.

You smile at Ellie as you get her order, a usual patron of the diner. You feel unusually happy today, and while you don’t know the reason why, you don't want to jinx it and so you just go on about your day.

Then your heart starts beating rapidly again, but the palpitations aren’t what you are used to.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes. When you open them, they find green ones - to be more precise, those from your dreams.

Time stands still, and recognition flashes between you two - a connection stronger than memory, a bond forged through shared emotions. Your breath hitches, your soulmate is sitting right in front of you.

You don’t know what to do, and while your heart wants to stay, your brain decides to run away. And so, you hurry through the side door of the diner.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean announces and rushes right after you, leaving Sam with no second thought.

You’re there, standing against the wall under the streetlamp in the back alley, your hand against your chest. The night falls, and you look like an angel glowing in the yellow light.

When your eyes join, your hearts start thumping in a turbo-mode and neither of you know if it's because of the bond or due to the other's presence.

“Hi.” Dean whispers, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello,” You whisper back, not wanting to break the bubble that has formed around the two of you.

The traffic from the main road has quietened down, as has the chatter from the busy diner, and all you’re aware of is this beautiful specimen of a man, and your conniving heart which has finally won against your brain.

“How are you?” Dean wants to hit himself just as the words leave his mouth. But then again, what are you supposed to say to your soulmate when you come face to face for the first time?

“I’m good. What about you?” You ask, a smile appearing on his face that you cannot help but match him. And my god, the crinkles that frame his eyes.

“I guess I’m good too - now that I met you.” Both of you laugh, and when your heart finally allows your brain to speak, you start drowning in anxiety, leaving you speechless again.

Everything that you’ve been running from, everything you left behind and everything that you’re up against is on his feet, just a few feet in front of you. Your soulmate.

While it feels like it has been decades, it has been only minutes.

Before you can conjure up a sentence, the side doors open with a thud - and Chris appears, looking tense.

“Everything all right here, Y/N?” Chris asks, staring at Dean as if to determine if there are any signs of aggression, and then settling on you to ensure that you’re fine. “Ellie told me to check up on you.”

His posture straight and hands in a fist, almost like he’s getting ready to fight, fight for you. 

The men stand tall with chests puffed, nearly similar in height as they both try to intimidate each other.

You nod, hoping to calm him. “It’s okay, Chris, this is -” you stop there, not knowing his name.

“Dean,” the man completes. You sheepishly smile at him before turning to Chris.

“Chris, this is Dean, my… My soulmate.” Saying it leaves an unnatural taste in your mouth,

You see his features turn from hostility into those of apprehension as he replies, his eyes narrowed. “I see…”

“Please give me a few minutes, Chris, I’ll come find you.” He gives you one final look, asking indirectly if you’re sure, and you nod with reassurance before he leaves.

“So Y/N, is it?” Dean asks, and you bite your lip.

“Yup. I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

Part 4 (Coming Soon on Tumblr/ Read it on BuyMeACoffee Now!)

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I just started a BuyMeACoffee Page where you can read Chapter 4 right now! Its kind of an emotional one where you have a difficult conversation which will determine where you will go from here.

My BMAC Page also has the first chapter of a new Dean Winchester X Reader story with the following summary: Best friends Dean and Y/N navigate a world of supernatural challenges and unspoken feelings. Sam, the ever observant brother, and Cas, the ever puzzled angel of the lord, discreetly encourage their romance through late-night talks, teasing, and shared hunts. As tension builds and emotions simmer beneath the surface, their journey unfolds through this story.

READ IT HERE- SECRETS OF A HUNTER'S HEART

Find out what else I offer on my buymeacoffee page - HERE

It's okay if you can't support me monetory-wise right now, even reblogging my fics help a lot!

Tags in reblog, either comment or reblog this fic if you wanna be tagged in the next part Xx

Thank you so much for your support ♥

Yours Truly,

Vee 💕

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[milkywaygalaxygurl]

Tummy - Dean Winchester

bringing back on OLD obsession for this one:’) i’ve loved dean since i was 10 years old and first laid eyes upon him in all of his glory in supernatural. this is intended as a plus size reader, but anyone can read. sorry i disappeared for so long y’all, i can’t make any promises that i’ll be more active but i’ll try<3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: none that i can think of:)

Word Count: 440(?)

This is another self indulgent fic, surprise! Dean loves reader’s soft tummy and they have slowly learned to love it too over the years of dating Dean. (i realized after writing this that it can be read by anyone, i don’t think i used any words to indicate the gender of reader. dean is probably ooc in this but honestly most dean fics are ooc so it’s fine lmao. sorry if this is ass)

Something you had very quickly learned about Dean is the fact that he loves to be held. You’d never think it was true just from looking at him, the tough hunter who never lets his guard down. You never would have believed it yourself until the first time he simply laid in between your legs, resting his head on your plush tummy without saying a word.

It quickly became a routine after that. In the beginning it made you a little insecure that he chose your stomach of all places to use as a pillow, but Dean very quickly put an end to your insecurities. He made sure to always lift your shirt slightly and lightly kiss the exposed skin, murmuring about how perfect you are and how lucky he is to always have a pillow no matter where he goes.

After years of the routine, the insecurities were long forgotten and you learned to love those moments just as much as Dean. You’d play with his hair while he held tightly to your hips or traced your stretch marks, hushed conversations about one another’s days or moods being shared. Dean lived for those moments, lived to be held and cared for in the way he always longed for. After so many years of caring for everyone else and never really having the favor returned, it felt amazing to just be taken care of.

Dean often wondered why you were so willing to provide the treatment he so desperately needed, but he never had the balls to ask you about it. His questions were answered one night when you whispered something to him, something that nearly made him cry.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to let me care for you, my love. I know you need this and I am so glad that you chose me to be the one to provide it for you. I will always try my hardest to provide you with the love and care you deserve because I know you’d do the same for me.” Your voice was so soft, your touch even softer as you lightly ran your fingers down his back.

Dean was honestly so overwhelmed with love and gratitude for you that he found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he only nuzzled your soft tummy and laid about a million kisses to any exposed skin he could find. He would never be able to make sense of how he got so lucky to have you, how after of all the shitty things he’d done and been through he still somehow was able to be deserving of a soul as gentle and pure as your own.

[pagannatural]

1.06 Skin

-Dean tries to say no to Sam about going to California but it’s a losing battle because Sam has the puppydog eyes which are lethal.

-Jared Padalecki is very good at platonic chemistry. He had zero sexual tension with the mom from Dead in the Water, for example, even when he pulled her out of her bathtub and she was lying on top of him naked and panting. It wasn’t a romantic moment. Likewise here he hugs his friend Becky and is obviously happy to see her, but they have zero sexual chemistry. It makes the sexual tension between Sam and Dean stand out and feel significant.

I also love how unhappy Dean looks seeing Sam’s friend from his time at Stanford.

-Sam’s “you’re not my brother” when he catches the shapeshifter kills me.

-“He’s sure got issues with you” SAY MORE. It seems like Dean’s memories or whatever it is are being melded with the shapeshifter’s, because he only talks about things that he can easily relate to. I bet there’s a ton more Dean stuff that the shapeshifter just doesn’t assimilate.

-“Dean stay out of the sewers alone I mean it!” “Sorry Sam, you know me, I just can’t wait.” Sam does worry about Dean. And Dean is kind of a reckless act-first think-later type and I bet that drove little Sam crazy. Did younger Dean kind of enjoy Sam’s concern? I bet he secretly relished it.

-during their fistfight Shapeshifter Dean says “not bad little brother” and Sam says “you’re not him” with such fire. It feels possessive.

-It recalls their first scene together when Dean breaks in and Sam says “Dean?” with such eager disbelief- like, Is it really you? It makes me wonder if Sam kept hoping to see Dean while he was at Stanford, if he kept hoping he’d visit or call, or if he did a double take every time he saw a broad-shouldered guy in a leather jacket.

-“even when we were kids I always kicked your ass” between fighting and cuddling and moving so much they must have had more physical contact with each other than anyone else in their lives.

-Dean walks in to find his own likeness on top of Sam, strangling him. I can’t remember him ever looking as murderous again as he looks here

He shoots the shapeshifter and goes to the body. This is how the brothers look at each other before Dean rips the amulet Sam gave him off of the shapeshifter and puts it back on.

What even IS this? What is this moment between them?

The episode explored the isolation and intensity of the brothers’ relationship. Their desires for lives of their own exist in opposition to their lives together.

But for Dean the main issue is not his desire for a separate life, it’s the desire for Sam to be his even though Sam left him. They both fight their gravitation pull toward each other for different reasons. The shapeshifter fed Dean’s abandonment fears by taking everything that Dean loves- his appearance, his car, his amulet, his brother. His self loathing comes from his belief that everyone will leave him, that he’ll never be enough to make them stay. Sam still has a foot out the door, in the lives of his Stanford friends.

This specific moment though. When Dean kills his double, saves Sam, and takes back the amulet, it feels like he’s reclaiming Sam. Early in the episode Dean told Sam that hunters can’t really have friends. He’s saying You’re mine and you can really only either be mine or be anything else. For Sam, the world is divided between My Brother and Not My Brother. Dean has just killed the thing which is Not His Brother.

And Sam ACCEPTS. He chooses his brother. Becky tells him it must be lonely hunting monsters and he smiles and says not really, looking over at Dean. He says what can I do, it’s family. He lies, but he’s not going to stay in touch with her. He’s in for however long this takes with Dean.

At the end of the episode Dean tells Sam that he’s sorry he can’t have the college life he wanted. Sam tells Dean it’s okay, he never really fit in at college. They always come back to each other. They only really fit in with each other.

[ellieslittleburrow]

requested by : @skyhighwriter : Yeet what if Sam and Dean had a sibling who chose to leave to California with Sam for her music career. When Dean goes to get Sam he finds out she is playing a show soon. (Probably plays rock music similar to halestorm of the pretty reckless)

Warnings : Swearing, some family angst nothing big.

A/N : sorry you had to notify my dumbass for me to finally post it. i've been having this weird anxiety whenever i write something that pulls me miles back. Anyways, enough with the excuses-enjoy!

------

"Whoa, easy tiger."

Sam is pinned under his brother. Whom he just recognized-"Dean?" The oldest triumphantly sneers. 'You scared the crap out of me."

"That's 'cause you're out of practice."

A few moves, and Dean finds himself pinned beneath Sam's clutch.

"Or not-" The older brother breathes a laugh. "Get off me."

Sam gets up and pulls Dean with him. "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"

...

As the conversation went on, Dean found himself out of words, yet still not ready to speak of the main subject. Finally, he locks eyes with Sam.

'Where is...where is she?" Dean's eyes discreetly search for you but little does he know..

"she.." A nervous cough escapes Sam's throat- unfortunately for him, Dean recognizes it. "She's not here"

"Okay. " The older one nods. "Where is she then?"

Sam sighs and darts his eyes around. "Not here."

Dean rolls his eyes in response. "Okay smartass. Take me to her-come on." Before the future lawyer gets to objectify-he finds himself being nudged toward the door.

Not long after that...interaction, the car comes to a stop at a bar parking lot. And Dean's body stiffens. It's quite late. So his sister is either :

working here(bad)

Drinking her brain off(bad bad)

Working here(very bad)

All three of these send Dean into a very silent fury and Sam is quick to pick up on that. So he rests his hand on his brother's thigh.

"Don't worry Dean, it's none of what you think." The words might've sounded reassuring but Sam's voice stank of a mockery. Toned with the kind of lightness you'd use when reassuring a small child. And so Dean fully ignores it , leaving the car without a word.

As the bar doors swing behind him, he scans the room for that familiar figure he'd seen grow up. But it was nowhere to be found.

He spins around, searching for Sam. "W..Where is she?"

Sam's features soften when he notices the worry etched across Dean's face. "She'll...." Drums suddenly pierce the greenly lit space and Sam's head swings up. The hunter's eyes follow- locking onto the stage. There-There's that figure, that of his little sister.

------

Shoulders burdened by the sacrifice

O' the promises the boy and his father pledged.

But the others fought and fled. Just as the father lost his head

And the boy turned into a man, shoulders heavier as that was always the plan

And he alone he hunted, like a big dark wolf,

No vows, no voices, no one to run to.

----

Cheerfully applause fills the room as the instruments quiet down. You wipe the sweat off your cheeks as you glance around the room, your intestines tightening the more you look around. You saw someone-or you think you saw someone?

As you step off stage, you softly push through the crowd as they congratulate you until you find yourself face to face with Dean.

His face is as easy to read as a children's reading book. As emotions ripple through his face, his chest heaves. And so does yours-just when you think about it. A lump winds up at your throat and you come to a halt.

"Dean."

His name betrays you- It almost feel foreign as you haven't said it out loud in a while. Between you and poor Sam, it's usually him or he. Phrases like where is...he? And is...is he doing okay? are his only chances to exist in your world-or so you think- Always accompanied by that hesitant silence. But not this time-this tim-

Dean leaps forward and before your body gets to jerk back, you find yourself locked in his embrace. And for a moment, the silence over on your left ear sends warmth down your body-and it's almost like you're whole again, but the outside world quickly returns, causing you to push back against your brother's chest.

You're still angry at him. for what reason? not sure. Maybe because he stopped calling? Maybe because he's not supportive enough. Maybe it's simply because he gave up on you.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" You ask coldly. And Dean quickly responds with a retort, earning a disappointed head shake from you.

"I should be asking you the same question, kid, what are you doing here?"

You turn your back to the crowd and to the stage, raising your hand in defiance. "I'm where i belong, Dean. I'm where i want to be."

Your older brother scoffs and you exhale. My god is this man tired. And this conversation too, like we haven't had it a million t-

"This? You don't belong here, kid-"

"Oh i belong with you? In a fucked up world full of injustice and death, Dean? Is that where i belong?" You raise your voice, attempting to bore through the noise-and to yell at him-simply. "In nasty motels and no life?"

"You belong with us-hunting- making the world a better place- actually doing something useful-"

Your heart stings as you process his words-which he himself weighs-later than he should have-and before he continues, you tsk. "No no"

You shake your head again. "I'm not having this conversation-Not until you tell me why you're here- if it's to get me back-Dean- get out-" You violently point at the door. "Get out because it's not happenin-"

"That's not why i'm he-"

"You could've called-You could've texted, man." You cut him off. "You could've asked about how i was doing-what i was doing. But you were simply too much of a coward to reach out-"

"i had nobody-honey-i had no one left. Not you- not Sam- Not dad.You left me just as i let go of you." Dean leans in and you step back. "Do not put this on me, kid." He tilts his head menacingly and you squint your eyes at him in response. "You chose this over me. There was nothing for me to do about th-"

"So it's my fault?! Is that what-"

"THAT'S NOT-" As he's about to lose his temper, the man runs a hand through his hair. "That's not why I'm here." He lowers his voice. "Please-let's talk outside." Your brother holds his hand out, his eyes pleading but you cross your arms over your chest, looking for Sam's eyes-searching for an answer from him. He won't answer, though. He had held his head down the whole time, he wouldn't break that now.

Your cheeks puff as you blow a breath out, brushing past both of them and heading for the door.

---

Outside, you sit down on the side walk and pull out a pack of cigarettes, taking one before pointing the pack at Dean, motioning for him to make himself comfortable. Instead, he narrows his eyes at you and glares in a disdainful manner.

"Oh and you smoke too?" His voice is not so bitter but- you want to be-

"I don't recall you participating in the birth of me, Dean. You might've raised me but you sure are not my dad, so back off."

Dean purses his lips before taking a leap towards you. "That's not what i meant-dumbass." Towering over you, he pinches at the cigarette resting in between your lips. "These are not good for your vocal chords." He snatches it and tosses it to the ground and your mouth falls open. Pure disbelief!

"Oh so now you're worried for them? but earlier-" Anger resurges and you get off the cemented floor. "You said they weren't useful."

"I-" Dean starts but quickly subdues, bringing his arms down to his hips. "I didn't mean what i said, okay?"

You falter, calming down before you're even conscious of it. And something itches at you-curiosity, causing you to stare at the man-hopeful and impatient.

"I didn't mean what i said-I....I like..." He hesitates. "I like that i can very easily notice my influence on your music taste. I mean those solos and that makeup and those lyrics." Dean snorts a laugh. "That's totally me."

A tiny chuckle leaves your lips. Though the answer is not the one you wanted, it is one you expected. You glance around, away from Dean.

"I don't have..much time left before my next song, so...." You swing your foot unattentively, shifting in place. You feel Dean straighten up.

"Are you happy here?"

The question sends a shiver up your spine and for some reason, your stomach tightens again. Because yes. yes you are. But before you get to answer that. Dean speaks.

"Of course you are-what a silly question." He mumbles and you sigh, guilt suddenly creeping in.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"No..No-of course not-I just-" He chuckles, though it sounds sad. "I...I actually don't know what to say, kid."

"Maybe be happy for me?" The words are barely audible as you're too hesitant, eyes still avoidant.

"I am-I really am. I just-I just don't understand why you left-" Dean takes a step closer to you.

"Dean-i'm actually-i matter here-"

"But you also matter when you hunt, kid-"

You finally snap-gently-firmly grabbing his arms. "But you don't need to hunt to make the world a better place." You finally find the courage to meet his eyes. And the frown shaping his forehead makes your heart ache but you continue- "As silly as this may sound to you-i too am making a change in the world-You know what- a week ago I met a little girl who told me my music saved her-Dean-do you realize how amazing that sounds?" Your words come out faster and faster. "I am doing something-I didn't leave just for the music and the crowds. I left because i knew that i belonged elsewhere-I belong somewhere on a stage- with a mic a few inches away from my lips-I-"

As Dean lowers his head to the ground and nods, a sense of sinking-doom settles within you. And you find yourself taking a step back, unable to hold the whimpers in.

"So this is it, huh?"

You step back even further as tears gather at your eyes. "It..It doesn't necessarily have to be?!"

One more try.

"Why can't i have both of you?! The music and you? Why is that so hard to accept, huh?"

You walk back to the door, swallowing the lump in your throat. "You know what-If you still can't have that-leave right now-Dean and i mean it-do not come anywhere near this door." A tear slips down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. "But if there's a chance for us to be a family again, stay. This place holds many more secrets than you think. You never know what you might find here."

----

Hurrying inside and over to the stage, you blast a forced smile as applause fills the room again. You'd look at the far back b-you can't-you can't-the reality of the situation is too harsh-it would break you. But as the song begins and the instruments pound your eardrums, a familiar silhouette you've grown up seeing keeps stepping closer and closer to the stage, to you. And just as the lights flash white-

Your eyes are met with your brother's.

-----

so so so so sorry for that delay, again 👀 i am my worst enemy when it comes to writing. Alsooooo, I wrote that little stupid verse hehe I love being extra. Please let me know if yall enjoyed this and see you next tiime! 🌹🌹🌹🖤🖤🖤

[cheynovak]

Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

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