#just please leave spn alone you guys have fucked it over again and again after season six just let it REST

[fromthegraveyard]

why didn't anyone make a destiel meme about spn possibly coming back i can't believe i had to find out about this the normal way

[holylulusworld]

Feral Need

Title: Feral Need

Square filled for @spnchristmasbingo​​​: Coming home for Christmas

Square filled for @j3bingo​: Feral

Summary: Dean goes after you as you are the one not looking for him. Did you give up on your alpha?

Pairing: Alpha!(Demon)Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1,2k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of stalking, written in Dean’s PoV, true mates, feral alpha, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, hurt & comfort

SPN Christmas Bingo Masterlist

2021 J3 Bingo masterlist

My omega is close, I can feel it in my guts. Our bond is calling for me so I push my car to its limit, not caring if I total it tonight.

It’s just a car – right? 

My old version tries to claw his way into my mind, tries to take over control, and tells me to leave Y/N alone and not risk crashing the Impala.

That sentimental fool loved his car.

I smirk darkly, knowing he won’t take over control ever again. I like the new me, admire the man I see in the rear-view mirror.

“Soon, sweetheart,” I purr low in my throat, ready to reclaim my omega. I will be damned to let anyone touch and claim what’s mine. Maybe she forgot about me as I ran with the enemy for a while, but she’s still mine. “You are going to be mine again.” 

Again, the old Dean tries to fight for control. I can feel him in the back of my mind, scratching at the walls, howling for his omega. That guy is almost feral as he can’t go without her sweet cunt for long.

“Soon, we will have her back, needy bastard,” I look in the mirror again, only to find my eyes glowing. “Shit, I gotta hurry before he takes over control.”

I can’t let the alpha in me take control. “I’ll let you knot her, and then we are gone,” he grins in my mind, telling me the moment his omega is close I will be gone. He’s yearning for his omega, cries in my mind as I try to not give in to his primal needs. “Dream on, fucker. I will not mate with her…maybe we cuddle a bit.”

I can smell her a mile away. She’s close and I am going to have so much fun with her. While I sniff in all directions, hoping to catch her scent, my body feels heavier than usual.

My head hurts, my muscles strain, I sweat like I ran a marathon, and I can’t keep my nails from scratching along the walls. “Omega,” I try to lure Y/N in to get her in my clutches.

I cannot control what’s happening to me.

Somehow my body moves on its own, guiding me toward my omega. I inhale deeply, howling as her scent gets stronger. She seems to be the one luring me in like a siren, calling for a lost sailor.

I end up on the ground, walking on all fours like an animal as I slowly lose control. The alpha takes over and that fucker is not pleased as I kept him away from our omega for too long.

“Mine,” it’s not my voice growling her name nor my hand reaching for the door handle of the room we used to share. “Omega, mine…”

“Alpha,” I hear her whimper and, before I can stop my inner alpha, I kick the door open to find her on my bed. “Dean? Alpha?” she cries, as she jolts up on her nest. “My alpha came home.”

“Mine,” I do not recognize my voice any longer. “My omega didn’t even look for me. How could you not look—” I back paddle as the blanket covering Y/N slips from her grasps, revealing her sweet secret to me.

“I—I couldn’t,” she whimpers, desperately holding out her arms. “Please. Sammy said I must stay here. He wanted me to stay safe. Me and your pups.”

“My pups,” fuck I kick my shoes off. My clothes end on the ground next to my shoes before I pounce on my omega to cover her trembling form with my body. She whimpers and whines, as her hands grasp for me.

“Alpha,” she sniffs at my neck, happily lapping at the mark she left years ago. “I’ve missed you…so much, Dean. I wanted to look for you, but Sam didn’t let me out of sight.”

“I’m sorry for leaving,” I give in, let the alpha within taking control over my body, and sit back to watch him take care of our omega. 

I hate to admit it, but it feels right to be close to her and to scent her again. This time, I won’t back down nor hide my feelings.

“Alpha—” she cries.

“I’ve missed you too, omega,” she nods against me, fingers fisting my plaid harshly. Y/N doesn’t want to let go of me. “How far are you, Y/N?”

“You’ve missed so much,” my omega sniffles silently. Fuck, when I was still human I had problems expressing my feelings but now, I’m lost. I don’t know how to calm her so I start to hum a Christmas song, hoping she will stop crying, “but you came home for Christmas, right?”

“Right,” I lie, hiding my instinct drove me toward her. How can I explain her alpha fights for control, and that I’m willing to give in as she feels too damn good in my arms? “I came home for Christmas and you, sweetheart.”

She whimpers, and I feel my heart swell as she snuggles into my chest. “My alpha is back,” she sighs happily, and I don’t have it in me to argue. 

Well, my alpha wouldn’t let me either. I almost ended up losing my mind. My body still feels odd as I try to relax on my omega’s nest. Going feral ain’t funny, I can tell.

She did a great job. If not for my black eyes, I would admire her handiwork. Y/N used all my clothes, soft pillows, and warm blankets to create a safe place for my omega and pups.

“Will you stay with us now?” her question catches me off-guard. Honestly, I didn’t think about what will happen after I reunited with my omega. Now I lie on her nest, my omega in my arms, and I’m going to be a father soon.

“Good question,” my brother’s voice makes me growl, but I try to tame the angry alpha inside my mind. I know, one step too far and I will lose control forever. “Will you stay and let us help you or run for the hills.”

“It’s Christmas,” growling at my brother I make sure he knows I will not let him get close to my pregnant mate. “I will stay. Anything else is—negotiable.”

“No, it’s not,” Castiel steps inside the room. “I will not allow a demon near your pregnant omega,” the angel states, giving me a stern look. “Do you remember the promise I gave to you years ago?”

“I—” swallowing thickly I nod, but I tighten the hold on Y/N.

“You made me promise that I will never let any monster, or demon get close to your mate. I will keep that promise. So, what will it be?” I snarl at my friend as his eyes flash blue. “You can stay here with your mate and let us cure you or, you will leave.”

“No!” clawing at me my omega tries try to keep me as close as possible. “He must stay. Dean can’t leave again. Please…”

“I will stay,” I state, matter-of-factly. No one will ever part me from my omega again. 

Not my brother. Not my angelic friend. Not the king of hell. Not the demon hiding inside of me. 

I will fight them with all I’ve got to stay with her.

Tags in reblog.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging. 

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here. 

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story. 

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield​, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me. 

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this. 

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk. 

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.” 

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” 

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?” 

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?” 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” 

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.” 

“You’re on.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp. 

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks. 

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.” 

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red. 

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type. 

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path. 

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat. 

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers. 

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.” 

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?” 

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise. 

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.” 

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat. 

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily. 

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down. 

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back. 

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple. 

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.” 

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms. 

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own. 

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin. 

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve. 

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.” 

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. 

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?” 

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him. 

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.” 

She’s not fucking kidding about that part. 

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear. 

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up. 

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle. 

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.” 

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily. 

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.” 

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word. 

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles. 

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.” 

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?” 

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?” 

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now. 

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this. 

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair. 

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.” 

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?” 

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.” 

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart. 

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Gesundheit.” 

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.” 

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Really?” 

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.” 

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.   

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”  

“I’m not.” 

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.” 

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.” 

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.” 

“Tryna be a tough guy?” 

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.” 

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…” 

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.” 

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something. 

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark. 

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close. 

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest. 

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless. 

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human. 

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick. 

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks. 

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.” 

“Tell me what you want, Faith.” 

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm. 

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…” 

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”  

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains. 

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone. 

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent. 

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly. 

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it. 

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?” 

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.” 

“Faith.” 

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.” 

“What do you think I want from you?” 

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?” 

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.” 

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button. 

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue. 

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?” 

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.” 

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.” 

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?” 

“What do you want?” 

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.” 

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *  

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely. 

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. 

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter. 

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?” 

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.” 

“It does. I picked the lock.” 

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly. 

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins. 

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.” 

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable. 

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away. 

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks. 

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.” 

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.” 

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up. 

“Faith?” 

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?” 

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling. 

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line. 

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs. 

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?” 

“No, I’m busy.” 

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream. 

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in. 

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?” 

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand. 

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.” 

There’s a long, weighted pause. 

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.” 

“Faith…” 

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.” 

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?” 

“Dorchester.” 

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms. 

“Good girl.” 

“Well?” 

“Be patient.” 

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily. 

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.” 

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles. 

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt. 

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing. 

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans. 

“Harder,” she grits out. 

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs. 

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him. 

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?” 

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?” 

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake. 

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him. 

“Need you,” she pants. “More.” 

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet. 

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place. 

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain. 

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke. 

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table. 

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —” 

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries. 

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out. 

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too. 

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists. 

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.” 

“Anything you want.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge. 

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks. 

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.” 

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?” 

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.” 

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.” 

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…” 

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth. 

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer. 

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.” 

“At your service.” 

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy. 

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there. 

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time. 

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability. 

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *  

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this. 

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief. 

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy. 

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic. 

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine. 

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll. 

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp. 

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers. 

“Little bit. I like it.” 

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that. 

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead. 

This feels like a form of worship. 

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers. 

“More?” she murmurs. 

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit. 

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.” 

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes. 

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time. 

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight. 

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.” 

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.” 

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers. 

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths. 

“Gorgeous like this.” 

��Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“ 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.” 

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows. 

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too. 

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her. 

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back. 

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.  

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful. 

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?” 

“Yeah.” 

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here. 

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand. 

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?” 

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed. 

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.” 

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress. 

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.  

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops. 

“You know how to get back from here?” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising. 

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.” 

“If things were different —” 

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.” 

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ” 

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?” 

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”  

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go. 

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.” 

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong. 

.

.

.

[superbadassnatural]

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?” You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I’ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard  banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @spookytaylors​ @thisismysecrethappyplace @witch-of-letters

[fictionalabyss]

Protector : Questioned.

Pairing :   Dean x F!Reader, Alex (OC), Sam, Detective Baker (OC)

Word count : 1,463

Warnings : Time jump - little over 4 years after chapter 10. Illegal questioning of a minor.  Fear and anxiety of what's to come. Series TW : Domestic Abuse is a constant topic- be it mentioned, or actually happening.

Continuation of this series was commissioned by : @iflostreturntosteverogers​​

Part 11 of Protector.

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Alex sat at the table quietly, eyes downcast on his hands that were clasped in his lap. The offered glass of water on the table sat untouched.  He’d been silent since entering the room, not a word no matter what they said. They had been nice enough at the start, but they were getting angry. They were running out of time, he knew it, they knew it, hell, they knew he knew it.

“Look, kid, we know you know something. You aren’t stupid. You live with the guy, you work for him-”

“I work in a garage.” Alex finally spoke, though he still didn’t look up at the detective who was leaning on the table. “I work on cars for dumbasses who don’t know the ‘check engine’ light means to check your fucking engine.” He finally looked up. “That's all I know.”

“You work in their garage.”

“I work in a garage. I don’t know who owns it.” Alex shrugged, and that seemed to piss the detective off, he could tell by the way his jaw ticked.

“Yeah? And who got you that job?”

“I applied for it.” Alex dead panned. “I gave my resume to every garage in town, they just offered me better pay.” Alex shrugged. “If you know so much about me, then you know I've had a knack for cars and engineering for years. Want to know about my middle school science fair project?”

“You and Dean left the state a few weeks back-”

“Visiting schools. It’s why I work, to pay for college.”

“Why the extra muscle then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were accompanied by-” the detective flipped open the folder on the table. The first page had Dean’s mugshot and a list of information, but Alex barely got a look at it as the pages turned. “Sam Winchester, and one Ash ‘Dr Badass’ Miles.”

“An Alumni of the school showing me around.” Alex shrugged. “What's your point?”

“My point is, son, you’re in danger.” Alex laughed at that. “You think that’s funny? You live and work with the men who, we are convinced, killed your father.”

“Dean is my father.”

“Your real father.”

“My ‘real father’ beat the shit out of me and my mom and tried to kill us before disappearing. He’s a missing person that for some fucked up reason you’re still looking for.”

“Because we’re convinced that Dean had him killed.”

“Yeah? When I was 5, I was convinced that my dad was the best dad on the plant. Sometimes, people are just wrong.”  The door burst open, and Alex just smiled at the detective. “Time’s up.”

“Let’s go, Alex.”

“Ma’am-” The detective held out his hand to try and stop Alex from standing and leaving.

“You! You have some fucking nerve dragging a 17 year old boy in here.” You took a step closer, finger pointed at him. “You have no fucking right to ask him anything without a parent or a lawyer, and I know for a fact he asked for both when he walked into the station. So now, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer for harassing my son.”

“Your husband killed his father.” The detective countered. “Don’t you want justice?”

“If he’s dead, big fucking if, justice has been served. Leave my son alone. Out, Alex.”

Alex stood and gave the detective a polite smile. “Sorry, bud. You fucked up.”

“Alex!” You shot him a glare as he left the room, then turned that glare on the detective. “Stay away from my son.” you growled before turning on your heel and storming out.

Dean was standing next to the Impala when you both walked out. “You okay?” He asked, eyes on Alex.

“I’m fine, Dean. Really, I’m okay.” Alex smiled and opened the back door.

Dean cupped your face as you got close to him. “Are you okay?”

“They took him in for questioning.. For what? Why harass a teenage boy?”

“I don’t know, baby. Sammy’s buddy from Stanford is already flying in, he’s good.” You gave him a nod and he pressed his lips to your forehead, his eyes going behind you as the door opened and the detective stepped out. Dean’s jaw ticked, and you looked up at him. “Let’s go home.”

You turned and glanced back at the detective as Dean opened the passenger side door for you. You slid in, and Dean shut the door behind you. Your attention on the detective who stood watching the three of you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Where’s Abby?” Alex asked, pulling your attention back.

“At home, with Uncle Sam.” you answered as Dean pulled open the driver side door and slid in.

“When your mom called me in a panic, we both hauled ass to the house.” Dean added after his door had shut and he was starting up the engine. He didn’t talk again until he was well away from the curb. “What’d they want anyways? Why’d they grab you from school?”

Alex shrugged. “They were asking about you.”

“About me?” Dean glanced over as you looked at him with worry.

“Mhm.” Alex hummed, looking out the window. “They’re sure I know more than I let on about what you do, where you go and who you meet. They knew we went to Michigan and who with.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“Not much.” Alex shrugged. “That I don’t know shit, I work for the garage who offered to pay me the most and Michigan was a trip with my family to visit a college.” He glanced to the front seat at Dean, eyes meeting in the rear view. “The truth. Dude’s pretty convinced you're a killer, though, and that mom and I are in danger.”

Dean’s brow furrowed and he risked a glance behind him. His eyes were back on the road when he felt your hand on his lap, squeezing it. He chanced a glance your way to see the worried look on your face had deepened.

Dean pulled into the driveway, and Alex was the first out of the car. You slipped from the car next as he turned off the engine. He could see from the way you held yourself that something was bugging you. With a sigh, Dean exited the car.

“Baby,” Dean stopped you from going past him, his hands cupping your face. “What’s wrong? Alex is fine, he-”

“They’re saying you killed his father, they’re saying I should want justice for that. As if him being dead wouldn’t be justice for what happened to us.” you glanced up at Dean. “I don't want to know, I don’t care. I just- He said it in front of Alex. Who knows what else he said to him before we could get here..”

“They don’t have anything or they wouldn’t be harassing the kid. They’ve been doing this shit for years, a few too many bar fights and suddenly you’re the scum of the earth.” Dean half chuckled. “Anything they can slap us with, they will. I’m just sorry you guys are being dragged into it.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Dean.”

“You won't, baby, I promise.” He ducked his head so his lips could meet yours.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, and the kiss broke, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you pulled away from Dean.

“Go inside, baby. I’ll be in in a minute.” You nodded and headed in, slipping past Sam without a word. Dean motioned for Sam to come closer as he leaned against the Impala.

“What’d they pull the kid in for?”

“Us. More specifically me. Asked about the garage, the trip to Michigan, told the kid I killed his father.” Dean shrugged.

“Jesus Christ..” Sam was actually stunned by that last one. Sure, the families occasionally got harassed if someone got caught doing some rough shit, but never had a kid been grabbed from school and had shit thrown at them like that. “They’re getting ballsy..”

“When’s Brady getting here?”

“Uh- Tomorrow morning. His flight lands at like 7am, I think he said?”

“Thank fuck  you went to college, Sammy.” Dean pat his brother on the back. “Abby good?”

“Yeah, she was good.” Sam smiled. “Always is for me. How’s the wife?”

Dean sucked his teeth as he started towards the house, brother in tow. “Pregnant, pissed and scared, Sammy. And this time, it’s on me. Fuckin’ Baker.”

“Baker? The same asshole who tried to throw you in prison last time?”

“Shit, yeah eh?” Dean smiled. “I should send him a gift basket or a thank you card, he’s the reason I met her.” Dean stopped outside the door laughing. “Fuck, imagine that on his conscious?” Dean was still laughing as he entered his home, Sam shaking his head behind him.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Protector : @jaycc7983 @volleyballer519  @meganlpie  @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo  @londoncallingbutiwontpickup  @voltage-my2dlove​

Dean - @akshi8278​  @adoptdontshoppets​   @evyiione​ @karikatz12481​ @idksupernatural​

SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn    @fandom-princess-forevermore     @kalesrebellion   @deanwanddamons​

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin​ @rebelminxy​ @foxyjwls007​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @shaelyn102​ @supernaturalenchanted​  @kazkingdom​   @babypink224221​  @emoryhemsworth​    @ilovefanfic86​  @pie-with-hunters​   @anaelsbrunette​ @lazinessisalliknow​  @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​  @marvelmenmusicandroses @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[pilaxia]

Ready for Love

SPN FanFic

A ride home turns eventful. Sam x Reader Word Count ~ 1500 Warnings: NSFW, smut, cursing. A/N: This was written for @impala-dreamer "Make Me Feel It" challenge where we were to choose a song and write how it made us feel. I picked "Ready for Love" by Bad Company. So I'm a novice writer but I appreciate feedback. And I would like to say how awesome good smut writers are, cause writing smut is hard. The trip back from Jodie's place was not long, not compared to some drives you had been on with the Winchesters. The three of you drove all the way to Maine once for a woman in white haunting. Nevertheless, you were tired of being on the road. You turned your head towards the driver. Sam was silhouetted by a halo created by setting sun. The clouds were layered orange and pink in the bright blue of the late afternoon sky. You smiled. He was beautiful, though you could never tell him that. You pulled out your phone and snapped a picture of his profile against the colorful sky. He turned his head and saw your smile. He smiled in return. "What are you smiling about?" He asked. "Just admiring the view," you replied. He brought his right hand to the back of his neck. His smile changed to a nervous grin and he turned to face the road again. "The sunset behind you, doofus". You said before he figured out that you were talking about him. He blushed and turned to look at the sky. "Yeah it is." He said. "Pull off here at the next off ramp," You suggested. "We've been on the road for hours. There's a rest stop up here. I need a pit stop and I figured we could stop and enjoy the sunset." Sam shrugged and said "Sounds good." He backed into the parking space farthest away from the center of the rest stop. The street lamp above was broken and they sat in a small pool of shadows. Which gave you a fantastic view of the sky. Without hesitation you swung open the door and got out of the car, stretching your arms high over your head. Sam took time to admire how your lower back curved into a perfect arch as you stretched. He always loved watching you do that, always has, though he would never tell you that. You returned from the surprisingly clean public facilities to find Sam was back in the car. All the windows were open and Sam had his head leaned back against the headrest. His eyes were closed and he was taking long deliberate breaths. You got in the car and closed the door slowly. "You okay, Sam?" "Yeah, I'm good." he replied. "Just got stuff on my mind." The late afternoon was sultry and time seemed to be slowed. From the forest behind them came the singing of crickets. The sun fell, and frogs began their nightly song. It all combined into a languid sort of lullaby. Long minutes passed as the colors of the sky shifted and darkened into twilight. Neither one of you spoke, you were comfortable together. When the last of the color finally faded from the sky, you spoke. "We should probably start heading back." "Can we stay here just a little while longer?" Sam asked as he turned his head. "I'm enjoying this." He said the last looking directly into your eyes. He turned so that he was sitting closer to you with his back to the door, right arm on the back seat. He was rubbing the palm of his left hand on his jeans. You reached out with shaky fingers and took hold of his hand. "Yeah, I think I would like that," Your heart was beating like hummingbird wings and you managed to look him in the eyes. "Just you and me alone for a little while longer." The two of you were lost in each other's eyes and you just had to move or you were going to burst. Before you knew you had decided, you moved. You reached up and placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him to you. You placed a soft kiss on his lips. They were soft and warm. You moved back to look at Sam. When you pulled back, his breath was rapid and his eyes wide. I really messed up.  You thought. 

"Was that okay?" You started. "I'm sorry, I should have asked. It's just that you were looking at me and I thought-"

You were cut off as he kissed you, and you curled your fingers in his long hair. He broke the kiss and began to kiss softly along your neck.

"You can't know how long I've wanted to do that". Sam said into your ear.  He nipped your ear with his teeth and the throbbing between your legs grew almost unbearable. 

"Sammmmm." you moaned as he left small kisses along your collarbone now. "I've wanted you for so long." You managed to say breathlessly.  "Touch me, please."

Sam didn't hesitate.  He touched you everywhere. And you felt like sparks ignited wherever his hands landed.  His mouth was  on your collarbone and shoulders and neck. His hands were on your hips and breasts or caressing your face. It was intoxicating.  

He undid his own belt and zipper.  He guided your hand to the bulge standing out past the fly of his jeans. "Is this what you want?" Sam asked in a low voice. 

Palming the outline of his cock you felt his true size.  You had seen him in his underwear a couple of times; changing in motel rooms during a hunt, or after a shower at the bunker. You had imagined what he had felt like for months now. It was better than your imagination.  

"I need you to answer me." His voice sounded strained. "I need to be sure you're good with this."

Leave it to Sam to make a big deal about it. Taking a deep  breath, you spoke like you hadn't to anyone else before.  

"Sam Winchester.  I,  Y/n Y/l/n, want to fuck you until I come on your cock" You blushed slightly. "I want this." you said rubbing the flat of your palm against the head of his dick thru the thin cloth. 

He helped you rid yourself of your shorts and panties. You reached in his underwear and quickly freed his member. 

"Eager are we?" He asked with a slight smile. 

"Yeah, seems like you are too." You quipped. "Now lay back. I've been thinking about this for months." You drag his jeans and underwear down past his knees. You kissed him as your leg moved over to straddle his lap. On both knees you reached down and found his firm cock. Lining up his tip to your wet folds you shivered and then paused. 

You loved this anticipation, this tease.  You wanted to savor this  moment, but he grabbed you at the hips and pulled you down on his shaft. You grunted with the sudden sense of being full. Then you took control. Slow and deliberate movements, up and down. You wanted to draw this out as long as possible. 

He pulled on your nipples with lips and teeth, kissed your chest. It had been so long, and you had wanted Sam so badly, that you were already close when he entered you. You were at the perfect angle where his cock rubbed that sweet spot inside. Your slow pace soon became quick and frantic. 

"Sam. I'm so close." 

"Me too, baby." He moved his hands to either side of your face and held your face in his gaze.

"Look at me, Y/n. I want to see your eyes when you come." 

His words pushed you over that edge. "Come with me Sam." You pleaded as your own wave of ecstasy swept through you. Seconds later he came, letting his head fall back against the seat as his cock throbbed inside of you. You were both still and quiet, neither wanting the magic to dissipate. 

You dropped your forehead to his chest. Sam placed his hand on top of your head, smoothing down your hair. "Y/n, we need to get dressed." He said softly. "We are still in public."

**********

The ride back to the bunker was filled with playful banter. Sam held your hand and occasionally sent a smile your way.

Dean was coming out of the kitchen just as you and Sam were descending the iron stairs. He stopped short of the map table, where you and Sam had dropped your travel bags. Dean looked between the two of you a couple of times. 

"Something happened between you two," Dean said with suspicion. 

"What do you mean?" You ask. 

Neither of you could make eye contact with Dean. "I mean, you two are acting differently." Dean answered. 

Sam cocked his head to the side and asked, "Different how, Dean?"

Dean crinkled his nose. "And you smell like sex. Did you guys fuck in my car?" 

You looked at Sam and when your eyes locked, you both started to laugh.  "What's so damn funny? " Dean demanded as Sam picked up the bags and headed to the hallway with the bedrooms. 

"I told Sam that you would know something had changed." You answered. "He said it would take a couple of days. We even bet on it." 

"Oh yeah," Dean asked. "What did you win?" 

You winked and walked past Dean. "Sam, I'm coming to collect my winnings!" 

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

7 Days to Die - Part 3

Escape

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of cannibalism, blood, SPN level gore, I’m making non-con poking around a women's “area” a thing, consider it a warning, violence, nightmares, night-time cuddles (fluff).

Word Count: 2,926

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Main Masterlist

7 Days to Die Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Summary: After traveling all day, the reader gets physically exhausted and suggests to rest up in a nearby house. They are in for a fight for their lives, and need to escape.

~

They walked down the long dirt path, winding and turning, changing from dirt to gravel. Silent, yet the occasional distant gunfire.

“So,” Y/N begins.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m not in the mood to talk.” Jensen says. Shoulders slumped, as he still works through his friend’s death.

“I know, it’s just so quiet I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.” She says. “We gotta talk, lighten up the mood somehow.” She adds.

He sighs. “What do you wanna talk about?” he asks. Giving in.

“I want to learn more about the camp. Are there more jobs than the ones you and Jared talked about? Are there schools? What do you do?” she asks.

“There are schools, like we said a lot of us had to step into these roles, learning as we went.” He explains simply.

“How was the family? When you last seen them, I mean.” She asks.

“Well, kind of hard to determine when they’re sick. We’re going through a sickness of some kind at the camp. That’s why Jared and I were in that town, we were scavenging in pharmacies, and finding some hard-core meds for them.” He explains. “Danneel and the kids aren’t doing too hot. Fever, chills, worse than the flu.” He adds.

“Let’s scavenge more while we’re heading back. Maybe we’ll find something.” She says.

“I’m planning on it, but I haven’t seen much, other than the occasional military checkpoints that are now abandoned and wiped clean.” He says.

“Let’s set up camp then, look at that map of yours and see if we can’t find checkpoints.” She says.

“My map doesn’t have checkpoints on them.” Jensen states.

“No, but mine does.” She says. Pulling her map out of her backpacks side pouch.

“You’re just now mentioning this?” Jensen asked.

“Didn’t know why you’re scavenging. But I’m mentioning now.” She says.

“Well we still got a ways till the next hold out of ours. We’ll head there, map out our next move and plan on scavenging tomorrow.” He says.

“Sounds like a plan stan.” She says with a smile.

 Sun was starting to set, a light rumble of thunder heard in the distance can be heard. Even a flash lighting up the forest.

“Jay, are we almost there, my legs are shaking.” Y/N whined. He lifts the map up to see how far they were.

“Shit, we still got a few miles yet, but we’re close.” He says. Stretching his legs, a bit, he was getting tired too.

“But there’s a mansion right there, let’s just head there.” She says pointing to a large house like mansion. Similar looking to the house in Home Alone or even Achilles’s house in Assassin’s Creed III.

But her knees decided to give out at her weight. Jensen heard the thud of her hitting the ground, hurries to her side, wrapping an arm around her, helping to lift her up to her feet. Leaning against him, in his side she tries to walk.

“Alright, we’ll head to the mansion, rest up but we got to head to the hold out, never know who could be occupying these places.” Jensen says, helping her to the mansion.

 They get to the door; it was as if there was someone waiting on them. As they ascended the stairs the main entrance opened.

An old lady, definite grey hairs peppered in her old styled bun. She dressed out of time, dressed like it was colonial times.

“Oh, lovely, a lost couple.” She says, wiping her hands on her apron on her dress. A pretty blue dress with a  white apron at her waist. “You are more than welcome to stay.” She adds.

“We’re just gonna rest up for a bit.” Jensen says.

“That’s fine dearie, dinner’s in the oven, you two can freshen up in my guest bedroom.” She says. Letting them in. On cue for the storm to let out a down pour. She gazed up at the sky from the door, despite the porch being there. “And just in time too.” She adds.

“Yeah.” Jensen agrees.

“Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.” She says.

“Wait, she said couple when we walked up,” Y/N says.

“Oh, we’re not a couple, just acquaintances.” Jensen says.

“Oh don’t fuss honey, I know a couple when I see one.” She says.

“She needs her eyes checked then.” Y/N whispered. Jensen holding back a chuckle.

They head up some more stairs and she leads them into a very large room. Filled with a large bed, a small couch, and even a bathroom.

“I’ll leave you be; dinner will be ready around 7.” She says. And heads down the stairs.

“I have a bad vibe about this place.” Y/N says.

“Me too, just sit, rest up. I’ll shower real quick. If your up to it, I want you to shower too. And we’ll be out of her hair.” He says.

“I like that plan.” She says.

Jensen sets her on the bed, Y/N rubs her legs to relax the muscles a bit and help blood flow.

Sounds of footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs, an old man in a butler suit stood at the door.

“If the mister and misses are ready, the mistress would like you to join her in the sitting room.” He says. Even his voice sounded aged, he looked older than the old lady, but tall and slender.

“In a minute, he’s just now getting in the shower.” She told him.

“Very well.” The butler says before bowing his head before leaving.

This is too strange. She thought.

She continued to massage her legs to soothe the ache from them.

She heard the shower shut off, and moments later a refreshed Jensen left the bathroom.

“She must be relying on a water tank or well, because I lost the hot water through that.” He said, looking relaxed.

“At least you look better, more relaxed.” She said.

He smiled, seeing a hint of a bright pink on his cheeks.

I made him blush. She thought with a giggle.

“She wants us with her in the sitting room, she sent a butler.” Y/N says getting up on more stable legs.

“Feeling better yourself by the looks of it.” he comments.

“Yeah, just needed to sit and massage my legs a bit.” She says.

They exited the room and descended down the elegant stairs to find the butler near her in a sitting room.

“You cleaned up so well.” She says as they entered.

“Thanks.” Jensen says.

“Just needed company or something?” Y/N asked kindly.

“Yes, an old lady like myself living out here all by her lonesome, it can feel really lonely out here.” She says.

“What’s your name?” Jensen asked.

“Gretchen.” She answered.

“Gretchen, you did well with the upkeep of this house.” Jensen commented.

“Thank you.” She says. “Please, have some tea.” She offers.

Y/N and Jensen pick up the cups full of the amber colored drinks. Taking small sips.

“And might I ask what your names are?” she asked.

“I’m Jensen Ackles.” Jensen introduced.

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She introduces.

“Y/N, well, that’s a very pretty name.” she says.

Before they know it they finished their teas. But Y/N was the first to feel something.

“You okay Y/N?” Jensen asked.

“I feel, funny.” She says, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes.

Jensen slowly felt similar effects. Growing drowsy, the both of them.

“What’d you put in our tea lady?” Jensen asked.

“You’ve been traveling a long way; you need to relax.” She said mischievously.

Y/N slumped back into the couch, passed out, Jensen fell at his side, landing in Y/N’s lap. Passed out as well.

“Tommy, take them to the lab. I’m sure Herbert will want to see if we can harvest them.” She says.

The tall old butler doing as told.

 Jensen woke in a strange place, feeling woozy and funny. Shaking his head to shake the feeling away as best he could he gets up. Y/N did the same.

As they wake up more, they’re not in the same cell. An empty cell separated them.

“Y/N, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, freaked out. But yeah.” She answers.

A slight pause.

“I told you I had bad vibes from that woman.” She hissed.

“I know. Old people, they’re easy to fool us like that. Because we always think of them as vulnerable.” He says.

“Not entirely true, sample A, the crazy Gretchen lady.” Y/N said. “God, it was my stupid idea to come here.” She begins to panic.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know it was occupied.” Jensen says trying to lift her spirits.

Footsteps interrupted them, and there stood a fat old man. Bald, wore the white lab coat with black rubber gloves up to his forearms. And wore old style goggles. He looked like a mad scientist.

“Women, frail looking yet strong.” He says. Accent matching to any mad scientist. German.

“Excuse me!” Y/N says, offended.

And the scientist moves to look at Jensen.

“Nice healthy build.” He says.

Pacing between Jensen and Y/N, he decides on his next subject.

“Let’s have a look at you.” He says pointing at Y/N.

Terror filled Y/N. What was he going to do to her?

A big assistant, god awful looking. Covered in scars, burns, stitches, no eyelids or lips, hideous long claws. Big, strong, borderline overweight and muscular. He was let into her cell for him to lift over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry to the scientists lab and table.

She screams and fights him as hard as she could, but it didn’t faze him.

“No!” Jensen shouts. Yanking at his cells door. “Y/N!” he shouts.

“Jensen!” she shouts back.

I lost Jared and now I’m gonna lose her. Jensen thought. As he tries to find a way to escape, with tears threatening to escape.

He hears the first of her screams of pain. The screams thrashed her throat.

Jensen yanked his cell doors again, and noticed it giving.

He looks at the frame, it’s rusted. Rusted bolts, that should hold it in place in the threshold.

“Keep at it, I’ll break free.” Jensen says, as he continued to yank at his door. Harder. And harder.

The screams got louder. He yanked harder. Then the crack and snap of rusted metal. His door fell out of the threshold and his hands. Out of his cell he looks around him, he needs a weapon to take on that big fucking guy.

Finding a machete on the nearby tool table in a room adjacent from Y/N’s cell she was in.

“Hang in there kiddo, please be alive when I get there.” He prayed.

She was stripped down to nothing, covered in cuts, some deep and gushing blood darker than red. Laid on a vertical table.

She shook against her restraints as he worked at her in her sensitive areas. One of the areas being between her legs.

“Still fertile, that’s good.” The scientist says as he stood up. Holding up makeshift tools to do a PAP smear.

“Little pig!” was heard behind Jensen.

Instinctively, he swung his machete high, hiding the big fucking guy in the neck. Severing arteries, the big guy bled out, falling to his knees.

Jensen quickly turned his attention back to Y/N. And she was alone.

Where is he? He thought.

He hurries to her.

“Hey, talk to me sweetheart. You okay?” he asks.

“I’m still alive, if that’s what your asking.” She groaned, panting. The amount of pain she endured in that short period of time was enough.

“Okay, we don’t have time to find your clothes, we need to get you out of here.” He says.

“Okay.” She agrees.

He works at her bindings. Getting her hands free.

“Behind you!” she shouts.

Jensen takes his machete to swing high at head height again, but the scientist ducked, and with a short blade, stabs Jensen’s side.

Jensen let out a grunt from the pain.

“NO!” Y/N shouts.

“Can’t have you leave just yet, you’re the main course.” He says.

Cannibals, these people eat people! Y/N thought. As she worked to get her feet free.

“Yeah well,” Jensen begins. Taking his machete stabbing the scientist in the chest. “We aren’t hungry.” He says.

The scientist drops dead. Jensen withdrawing the blade.

“Herbert?” the old lady called out.

Jensen was growing annoyed.

“I won’t be offended if you just killed her out right, I mean she did drug us for this.” Y/N said.

“Agreed.” Jensen says.

“NO!” the old lady screamed when she saw them escaping.

The sound of a chainsaw filled them with pure fear. Nightmares come true.

“She’s got a chainsaw!” Y/N shouts.

Jensen turns, dodging her swings of the power saw. Y/N manages to get her feet fully free and she slides off the vertical table.

The lady cackled like a witch as she tried to take Jensen out.

Despite her pain, she managed to find a knife, very sizable. It was shorter than a machete but longer than your typical tactical knife. She grabs it and with the witch’s back turned Y/N slashes the back of her neck. The witch flinches at the pain, swinging the chainsaw at Y/N. Y/N ducks, missing the attack. And stabs the witch under her chin. Seeing the tip of the blade go through her head.

Withdrawing the blade the old lady drops dead.

“I hope that butler don’t put up a fight.” Jensen says panting.

“Same.” Y/N says.

 They managed to escape the lab, with no further fighting. Jensen setting aside some of his clothes for Y/N. And utilizing the old hags medical tools, Jensen was able to patch Y/N up, and she patched Jensen up as well.

“I still blame myself; I mean all of this would have been avoided if I just toughened up and walked a few more miles.” She says as she stitched up his side.

“Well don’t. I don’t blame you.” Jensen says.

They sat in silence as she finished stitching him up.

“I’m just glad the butler didn’t put up a fight.” She says.

“Right, for an old lady she really put up a fight. I was getting tired.” Jensen says.

“Well, either the sun’s rising or setting, we haven’t eaten. Running on adrenaline alone can only give you so much energy.” Y/N says.

She wraps a bandage around his torso, also holding down a gauze in place to apply some pressure to the wound. Taping it down with a light tap.

“Your set though.” She says.

“Not a bad job, better than Jared. Either too tight or too loose the man couldn’t figure it out.” He says.

“I don’t blame him; I mean he’s patching up his best friend who’s like a brother to him.” She says. “I wouldn’t want to make it worse or even have it be not enough.” She adds.

“Yeah.” Jensen says, agreeing.

“Do we hide out here, or head to your hold out?” She asked.

“This place, though it looks nice. It freaks me out, after what we’ve been through.” He says.

“I agree.” She says.

“Let’s hit it.” He says, grabbing his pack. And she grabbed hers, along with Jared’s old one that held the medical supplies they managed to loot earlier. Escaping, more like walking out, with their lives.

On their short walk, Jensen wraps an comforting arm around her shoulders, holding her close. She leaned into his side as they walked. Feeling safe. Jensen getting a fire going in the cabins fireplace, like he does at every cabin. She crashes on the couch.

“Why do you always sleep on the couch?” Jensen asks. “There is a bed in the hallway you can crash in, I bet your back will thank you.” He says.

“The last cabin I crashed at; the bed was…gross. Covered in a wet dust, smelled of mold and mildew.” She says.

“These cabins we stay in, Jared and I stayed in them in the past. We’ve cleaned up each time. And they’re cabins we always crash at on hunts. Come on, go to bed.” Jensen says, taking her hand, guiding her to a room that had two full beds.

“I mean they do look clean.” She says with a shrug.

“They are.” Jensen says. “Sleep. I’ll be in, in a minute, got to look around, make sure we don’t get jumped in the night.” He says.

“Okay.” She says with a yawn.

 It was a while that he was out putting the zombie blood painted border to keep walkers away, but he managed to make sure they’re safe. As he reenters the cabin he hears a cry.

“Jensen!” it was Y/N, she was crying out his name.

“Y/N!” Jensen shouts back.

Enters the bedroom to find her in bed, completely fine. But her face, showing signs she’s in the midst of a very bad nightmare.

“No, not him!” she shouts. She writhes, cringing at whatever horrible vision she was seeing.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He says, sitting at her side on her bed.

It’s like she can sense him there. She tosses and turns toward him, trying to cling to him.

It’s settled, I’m sleeping with her. He thought.

He takes his boots off, dressing in comfortable bottoms, still in his t-shirt he climbs in her bed. Brings her into his chest, cuddling her. Feeling her tremble under him, he holds her tight. Whispering in her ear she’s fine, he’s fine. They’re all okay.

She eventually stopped, and relaxed. As did he, letting sleep take him.

~

Keep the feedback coming, What do you think? Favorite part? Was it too scary? Or not scary enough? Comment or ask to let me know what you think so far. :)

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 10/14/2020

~

Jensen Tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​, @salt-n-burn-em-all​, @moonlight-on-her-skin

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Brother’s Best Friend

Title: Brother’s Best Friend

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4031

Square Filled: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Dean and Sam’s best friend, Y/N, has never gotten along. It isn’t until reality sets in, that she shows up at Sam and Dean’s shared apartment in the middle of the night. Sam’s not home, she’s in tears, and despite Dean’s hate towards her, he’s too soft to turn her the other way. So what happens next?

Warnings: Dean being a dick, Reader being a Sassy Bitch, Angst, Mentions of Cheating, Arguing, Vulnerable!Reader, Explicit Language, Mentions of Alcohol Use, Fluff, Comforting!Dean, Sexual Tension, Making Out, and Implied Future Smut.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: This started out as an idea, and then it quickly became this whole fic! And what are the odds, it also filled a square for my SPN Dean Bingo Card! I love when that happens! Haha. I really hope you guys like this one! Happy Reading all you gorgeous MoFos! Love ya! Xx

Sam was making a late lunch when Dean returned home, however, his little brother wasn’t alone. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N sitting at the table, laughing at something Sam had said. When she made eye contact with him, her joyous expression quickly morphed into one of distaste. The change in her features didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, making him glance back, finding Dean standing at the doorway, shrugging off his leather jacket and hooking it on the coat hanger.

“Hey, Dean!” Sam quipped, attempting to keep the vibes in the room light. Every time Dean and Y/N were in the same room, things tended to turn sour really quick.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Dean snapped.

Yup. Really quick.

Y/N was Sam’s best friend from college. They met during orientation and had been friends ever since. Throughout their college careers, Sam had told bountiful tales of his brother, all of which made Dean out to be this impressive, and in turn, intimidating character. Y/N used to get nervous whenever she’d think about one day meeting him; but before Sam had the change to properly introduce them to each other, they had already crossed paths once at a bar, which didn’t turn out so well.

Y/N was at Crossroad’s bar with her boyfriend and a few of their mutual friends, enjoying each other’s company and having a few drinks, when an attractive man (who she would find out later to be Sam’s legendary brother) caught her eye. She watched him flirt his way through girl after girl, shamelessly eating each other’s face. She was disgusted. She thought to herself that a man like that couldn’t possibly “clean.”

As the night grew older, her friends eventually called it a night and left. It wasn’t until they were all gone that she realized her boyfriend, Gordon, was no where to be found. As she scanned around the bar for him, Dean stumbled upon her table, noticing she was alone, and taking a chance.

“Hey there Sweetheart,” Dean grinned. “Can I buy you another drink?” He pointed to her empty glass.

“No thanks, but please, help yourself to all the other women in the bar that you have yet to exchange saliva with,” she smiled back, not impressed with his attempt to flirt with her. “I see a select few who seem quite parched.”

“Well, good luck getting a boyfriend with that attitude,” Dean retorted, his mood quickly plummeting.

“For your information, I already have one. And he’s not some arrogant play boy,” she hissed.

“Oh yeah? Then where is Mr. Perfect?” Dean challenged, a smug look on his face. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“He’s probably in the restroo—,” she paused when she caught sight of her boyfriend making out with some redhead. Dean followed her gaze and scoffed. It was his chuckling that brought her attention back to him.

“That your boyfriend over there with that red-headed chick? Yeah, he’s definitely a keeper,” Dean muttered, tone filled with sarcasm and venom, before walking away. Dean knew that what he said was a dick move on his part, but if she hadn’t been such a bitch to him, he most likely would have stayed to console her, but in the moment, Dean thought she deserved it for calling him a playboy when her – so called “Mr. Perfect” boyfriend – was making out with some random chick behind her back.

“Oh, c’mon Dean. Can’t you guys just make up and get along? For me?” Sam pouted at his big brother and best friend.

“Hey, I haven’t kicked her out yet, have I?” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes before placing a sandwich one each of the plates set up on the tiny dining table. “Whatever. I made lunch,” Sam pointed to the empty seat beside Y/N, gesturing his older brother to sit.

Majority of their lunch was eaten in tension-filled silence before Dean opened his mouth. “So, Y/N,” he began, causing Y/N to inwardly groan at what ever he was going to throw her way, “how is Mr. Perfect doing?” He grinned cheekily.

“Dean!” Sam chided with his mouth full.

“What? I’m just asking an honest question. She’s the one who went back to him after catching him cheating on her, so he must be packing somethin’, am I right?”

“Gordon is doing fine, thanks for asking,” she sassed back. Dean always liked to ask that question, just so he could rub it in her face, bringing back the memory of the first time they met.

“That’s great. Haven’t caught him with another girl since that night?”

“Dean…” Sam scolded again.

“You’re a dick, you know that,” she barked, slamming her sandwich back on her plate.

“I may be a dick, but at least I can say that I’m not a cheater. Sure, I like to have fun, but I always make sure the girl I’m with knows that what’s going on isn’t exclusive and that it’s a no strings attached kind of deal. And when I do have a girlfriend, I’m all there for her,” Dean confessed, “one hundred percent.”

Y/N gave Dean the stink eye before glancing over at Sam for confirmation. Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s true,” Sam agreed, “Dean’s pretty straight forward. And when he’s actually with someone, he’s faithful and loyal all the way through.”

“Whatever,” Y/N growled under her breath, but loud enough for Dean and Sam to hear.

Dean held a triumphant look on his face as he finished his sandwich. “Well, if you fellas will excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with… Clarissa,” he sang.

“Seriously? But you just got home,” Sam chastised.

“What can I say? The chicks love me.” With that said, Dean disappeared into his room to get ready.

“I can’t believe he’s your brother,” Y/N groaned, picking her food up and taking a unattractively large bite.

Two Days Later…

It was well passed midnight and Dean was sound asleep when there was a knock at the front door. The first set went unheard. It wasn’t until the second series of knuckles against wood that he peeked his eyes open, unsure if he’d heard that or just imagined it. As he was about to fall back asleep, the knocking came again, causing him to groan in annoyance. He flipped his body onto his other side, trying to get comfortable and ignore whoever was at the door, hoping that they would take the hint and leave.

The knocking started up again, this time not letting up. The constant banging eventually got him out of bed, stomping out of his room in nothing but his boxers, and to the front door. “Who the fuck?” Dean growled as he undid all three locks, the one on the knob, the deadlock, followed by the chain.

“What?” He snapped as he yanked the door open. His eyes narrowed, and brows furrowed deeper when he saw Y/N standing in front of him. “Sam’s not here,” he gritted before slamming the door on her face. As he was about to turn and leave, he heard her sob from behind the wooden barrier, causing his body to go stiff. “Fuck,” he droned, knowing that if she was crying, he couldn’t leave her out there. Seconds later, guilt swarmed his insides and he cursed under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”

Sighing deeply, Dean turned and opened the door again, this time a lot gentler. He scanned her up and down, noticing she was in her business attire. She looked a little disheveled. Her hair was falling out of the bun she had it in, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were slightly swollen with tears streaming down her face.

“Come in,” Dean instructed, voice softer and lighter than earlier.

She did as she was told without any hesitation and sat on the couch, her face buried in her hands and body trembling. As she cried alone, Dean went into his room, grabbing a few things before returning to the living room.

“Here,” he said, tossing a towel, a spare toothbrush (still in the plastic), and one of his shirts, beside her. “Get cleaned up and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Y/N looked up at him with a surprised look, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes, on it’s own accord, travelled down Dean’s body, finally noticing for the first time, that he was only clad in his boxer briefs. Dean cleared his throat at her wondering eyes and she quickly snapped her head back up at him. She nodded her head and grabbed everything he’d given her and made her way to the bathroom. Dean retreated into his room, throwing on sweatpants before going back to wait for her on the couch, now completely awake.

When she walked out, the first thing Dean noticed was the way she looked in his shirt. It was practically a dress on her, stopping mid thigh. A light blush dusted across his star-freckled cheeks. There was no denying that she looked good in his clothes, and with her long hair wet and dripping, it only made her all the more delectable, but now wasn’t the time to be having those sort of thoughts.

With the towel in her hands, she walked over to Dean, standing in front of him like a wounded animal. Dean stood up, towering over her and grabbed the towel, tossing it over her head to help her dry her hair. As he did, Y/N started to cry again, taking a step closer to Dean and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. The gesture made him stiffen, unsure of what to do, but eventually, he relaxed in her hold, using one hand to rub her back while the other cupped her head against his chest.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dean whispered, removing the towel from her now messy mop of a head and tossing it onto the coffee table. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Dean waiting for any kind of reply. When she said, or did, nothing, he maneuvered her down to the couch, sitting beside her. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked, his arm draped over her shoulder as she leaned into him.

“He… I caught… that—that bastard… he cheat—, my bed…” she managed to stammer out between ragged cries.

“Hey, c’mon. Breathe. Calm down. I can’t understand you if you don’t calm down. Breath and tell me what happened,” he encouraged, trying to get her to settle a bit.

“Gordon… he—” Her voice caught in her throat.

“He what, Y/N? What did Gordon do?” Dean’s voice was low and deep, which Y/N found soothing.

“He cheated on me,” she answered, barely a whisper. “I—I called him earlier to tell him that I was going to be working late at the firm, that I’d be home around two a.m. but I managed to get out by midnight, and when I got home… I caught him with another girl in our bed… in my bed! It’s my apartment,” you sniffed before breaking down again.

“Hey, shh,” Dean leaned back against the couch, wrapping both arms around her. When she finally calmed down, Dean pulled away slightly. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You can crash on the couch, or in Sam’s room if you want. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I think he’d prefer that option best.”

Y/N shook her head. “I—I don’t want to be a-alone,” she confessed, looking up at Dean with her sad, tear-glossed, eyes.

Dean gulped, knowing this was going to be a bad idea, but offered anyways. “Wanna crash with me in my room?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate or show any sign of discomfort in Dean’s proposal and nodded in affirmation. Dean stood up, reaching his hand out for her. Her hand fell into place, her small one fitting perfectly in his expansive palm as he pulled her alone with him. Her grip tightened instinctively, almost like a child not wanting to get lost from their parents in room full of people. Dean’s heart pounded against his chest. That was a new feeling for him. He and Y/N had never shared an exchange this… soft. They were always arguing, always at odd ends, always putting each other down.

Dean shut his bedroom door behind him, letting Y/N crawl under the covers first. He watched her curl into herself before pulling the covers off on his side and getting in. He turned his back towards her, in attempt to put some boundaries and give her some space. Also it helped control his new found urges.

He wanted to hold her, comfort her, feel her against him. But this was Y/N he was thinking about. She didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her… yeah… he didn’t like her. Besides, she was in too much of a vulnerable state for him to put any kind of move on her. It wouldn’t be right.

Finally closing his eyes, he felt Y/N move behind him and suddenly, her body was pressed against his back, her arms wrapping themselves around his stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled from her face buried in his back. “You were right. I couldn’t keep my boyfriend, and he was cheating on me. He’s always been cheating on me. You were right all along,” she confessed, her voice cracking again as she began to cry. “I must really fucking suck.”

Dean felt guilty. Sure, he and Y/N weren’t exactly friends, but he’d never wish this sort of heartbreak on his worst enemy. And yes, he’s told her she wouldn’t be able to keep a boyfriend and that Gordon was probably sleeping around because she had a constant stick up her ass, but he never meant any of those things. He was only trying to hurt her ego the same way she did his whenever she called him a, “pussy afraid of commitment,” a “playboy,” or when she would tell him that he’d “forever be alone.”

Twisting in her arms so he was facing her, Dean pulled her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her shoulders. “Stop. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, I never meant any of the things I’ve said,” Dean admitted. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this kind of pain… this kind of betrayal. That jackass didn’t deserve you.”

“No. You were right. I know you hate me. Despite you being so nice to me now, whether you just feel sorry for me or not, you’re probably eating it up. The Great Dean Winchester is always right.”

“Seriously, stop,” Dean commanded, pushing her slightly away from him, just enough so that his emerald eyes could meet hers. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, gazing into his gorgeous eyes. She blinked, letting a stray tear slide down the side of her face and seep into the sheets, as her eyes fell to Dean’s lips. His eyes did the same, finding a strong urge to kiss her, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when she was weak.

“C’mon, rest up. We’ll talk in the morning.” Dean pulled her back into his chest, allowing her to snuggle up closer. She took a deep breath, letting his scent put her at ease, before letting out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she replied, quickly falling asleep.

Dean woke up with his face buried against something soft. He moaned in approval, pressing his face deeper into it. His hands graced over something smooth, warm, and soft, clutching tighter in it’s comfort. When a high pitched moan rang through his ears, his eyes snapped open just as the memories of hours earlier slammed back to him like a freight train.

His grip loosened and he pulled his head back only to find himself staring at Y/N covered breasts, and his body tangle with Y/N’s. The blanket was hanging over the edge of the bed, one of her legs were draped over his with her arms around his neck, one hand buried in his short tresses, while the other rested on his chest. Dean definitely couldn’t ignore that the shirt he’d let her borrow had pooled around her waist, her lacy panties in perfect view.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled to himself, his morning wood twitching at the sight. He rolled over onto his back, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Disturbed by his movement’s, Y/N moaned in her sleep, cuddling back into Dean’s side, her head resting on his bare chest, as her free arm slithered their way down from his chest, over his stomach, and resting dangerously close to his now throbbing member. She was going to be the death of him.

“Dean,” she called his name. He stiffened, eyes casting over her to see if she was awake, but she wasn’t. “Dean,” she said his name again, this time her eyes fluttering open. She looked in a daze, as if she was still half asleep, and maybe she was.

“Y/N?”

She blinked the sleep away, her eyes coming back to life. “Dean…” she breathed, and before he knew it, her lips were on his. Dean thought about drawing away, but he couldn’t. The feel of her lips against his felt too good to stop. It felt right. His arms guided her on top of him, her legs on either side of his hips. With the new position, the kiss deepened. Dean let out a loud moan into her mouth as she grinded against him, his throbbing cock becoming almost painful.

Reluctantly, Dean found the will to push her away. As much as he didn’t mind being a rebound, he couldn’t do that to Y/N. He couldn’t do that to Sam. Y/N was his best friend, which practically made her off limits.

“Y/N, I can’t. I don’t want to do anything you’re gonna regret,” Dean announced. “Besides, you’re my baby brother’s best friend. I couldn’t do that to him.”

Y/N was about to give a response when they both heard the front door open and shut.

“Dean!” They heard Sam call from outside of his room. “Did Y/N come by last night?” Sam’s bedroom door opened and closed, the force slightly reverberating through the thin walls.

“Shit, shit, shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Dean cursed softly, pushing Y/N off of him, and getting out of bed, trying to hide his raging boner. Y/N did nothing but sit on the bed watching him scurry around his room as he pulled on a shirt and tucked his hard on in the waistband of his sweatpants. When he noticed Y/N just sitting there, he frowned. “What are you doing?”

A smiled spread across her lips right before she started to giggle. Dean’s shirt was inside out and backwards, the tag under his chin, and tucking his boner in his waistband did nothing to hid the fact that he was hard. Not to mention, his lips were kiss-swollen, and she had left a nice little reminded on the pulse of his neck.

“What’s so funny?” Dean queried, his demeanor shifting into something similar to hers.

“You’re a hot mess, right now. Sam’s gonna know you’ve got a girl in here.”

“Yeah, well I’m glad you’re finding his hilarious, but if you don’t think of something quick, he’s gonna find out that you’re in here!” He stated, but it did nothing to sway her thoughts.

“Dean!” Sam shouted again, this time closer to his bedroom door.

Right when Y/N opened her mouth to speak, Dean noticed that his door was left unlocked. He was about to lunge towards the door when it whipped open, and there stood Sam, eyes landing on Dean’s before shifting to Y/N. “You’re fucking kidding, right?” He deadpanned.

“Sam, it’s not what it looks like!” Dean raised his hands in surrender. “I swear. Nothing happened.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he retreated back into the living room, Dean following close behind. “Sammy, seriously. It’s not what you think.” Sam stared at Dean unconvinced. “Fine, we made out a little, but that’s it. I swear. She came over last night, you weren’t here, and when I told her she could crash in your room, she said she didn’t want to be alone, so I offered to be a… to be a… ‘friend.’ And then this morning, things just kind of got… out of hand.”

Y/N walked out, catching Sam’s hazel eyes. “He’s telling the truth,” she assured.

“Y/N, I told you to stay in my room,” Sam directed at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sam, I know, but I really didn’t want to be alone. And Dean was, surprisingly, a real gentleman through it all. If it makes you feel any better, I put the first moves on him,” Y/N revealed.

“Oh god, it really doesn’t make me feel any better,” Sam gagged. “Besides, I thought you two hated each other?”

“I did hate Dean, until he took care of me,” Y/N shrugged. “And for some strange reason, being around him actually really helped get Gordon out of my head.”

“Since we’re all being honest here, I’ve also got a confession to make…” Dean started, “… I never really hated Y/N.” Dean caught her eyes before speaking again. “I was just irritated because she was still with that douche, Gordon Walker. The guy didn’t deserve her. She deserved better, and every time she’d come over talking about some new shit he was doing, it only pissed me the fuck off. I’m sorry Y/N, but that prick doesn’t deserve you.”

“Hold up,” Sam cut in. “Are you telling us that the only reason you’ve been the biggest jerk was because you were jealous?” A smug smirk spread across Sam’s face, while Dean’s eyes widened. He’s been caught. Sam hit it directly on the nose.

“W-what?” Dean stuttered.

“What?!” Y/N gawked, unable to believe what was being said.

“Oh Dean. Big Brother…” Sam teased. “But hey. Think of it this way. Killing two birds with one stone. Dean get’s the girl, and Y/N is no longer with that asshole,” Sam shrugged. “Anyways, since everything is more than good here, I’m gonna head back to Eileen’s place. Remember, be safe! Wrap it before you tap it!” Sam chuckled, reveling in the opportunity to being able to make Dean embarrassed for once. How the tables have turned—”

The door shut behind Sam, leaving Y/N and Dean to stand in awkward silence. “Uh…” Dean attempted to kill the quiet, but failing hard.

“Is it true?” Y/N jumped in. “You were jealous this whole time?” Her eyes landed on his. Dean couldn’t lie to her. Not any more.

“Yeah,” he sighed, figuring there was no point in trying to deny it now. He was thoroughly embarrassed, and he might as well get it over with now rather than later.

“All this time you were being a dick, it was because you were jealous of Gordon…” she repeated, stepping closer Dean until she stood in front of him.

“How couldn’t I be? He didn’t deserve you. You were way too good for him.”

“And who would be better for me? Who deserves someone like me?” Y/N questioned, fishing for a particular response.

“I deserve you,” Dean declared, and before he could say another word, Y/N jumped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist and her hands tangling themselves in his short locks as her lips assaulted his. Dean didn’t hesitate to hold her close, reciprocating the gesture with just as much heat.

“Now show me what it’s like to be with man who really deserves me,” Y/N cooed as she broke the kiss with an obnoxious smack.

Dean quickly obliged, not hesitating to carrying her back to his bedroom, kicking the door behind him. “Sweetheart, I’ll make sure that no other man will ever make you feel the way I do,” he promised, dropping her on the bed like a rag-doll.

Y/N giggled, spreading her legs wide open. “I’m waiting.”

Dean grinned before jumping on top of her, Y/N squealing with laughter, her heart no long heavy with the loss of Gordon Walker. Why have him when she could have Dean Winchester?

--

A/N: I totally forgot I had this ready to be posted! lol. Sorry I’ve been holding out. Also, sorry that I haven’t been posting lately. 

Liked it? Reblog it, Share it, and Leave some Feedback! I would really appreciate it!!

Say Something Nice Here!!

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- Hunted (2.10)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (sister OC)

Summary: After Dean spills the truth about their father’s last moments, Sam runs off, taking Olive with him. Dean goes after his baby siblings, and they’re targeted by an unwelcome familiar face.

Warnings: cursing, blood, knives, guns, uhh, like mention of a dead cat? sam lowkey kidnaps olive, the usual with the rest you know

Word Count: 5147

“Dean, what did Dad tell you?” I stood up straight, staring at him with wide eyes.

“He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, Sam. To take care of you.”

Sam huffed, and I tilted my head. “What?”

“He told you that a million times, Dean.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “This time was different. He said that I had to save you.”

“Save me from what?” Sam repeated.

“He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered. And that if i couldn’t, I’d…” Dean looked away, tears in his eyes.

“That you’d what, De?” My chest tightened.

“That I’d have to kill him!”

My heart began to pound, and I stumbled backward, sitting down on the railing. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling my eyes begin to sting. It didn’t sound too far off for Dad, but the fact that Dean had kept it hidden for so long felt like a knife to the back.

“He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

“Kill me?” Sam took a step back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” Dean pushed out.

“I mean, he must’ve had some kind of reason for saying it, right?” Sam huffed.

“Oh, god.” I mumbled, wiping the tears from my eyes.

He knew something, but whatever the secret was died with him.

“Did he know the demon’s plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?” Sam stepped forward.

“Nothing. That’s it. I swear.” Dean sniffled.

“Why the hell would he say that, Dean?” I sobbed.

“I don’t know!”

“How could you not have told me this?”

“Because it was Dad! He begged me not to!”

“Who cares, Dean? Take some responsibility for yourself! You had no right to keep this from me!” Sam spat.

“You think I wanted to? Huh? I wish to god he’d never opened his mouth! Then I wouldn’t have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!”

“It doesn’t make sense. I’m Okami, why didn’t he tell you to kill me, too?”

“Olive, I don’t know.”

Sam turned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve just gotta figure out what’s going on, then. Figure out what the hell all this means.”

“We do?” Dean tilted his head. “I’ve been thinking about this. I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It would be safer. And this way we can make sure-”

“What? That I don’t turn evil? That I don’t turn into some kind of killer?” Sam growled.

“Hey, he never said that.” I stepped in.

“Well fuck, if you two aren’t careful, you will have to waste me one day.”

“I never said that!” Dean shouted.

“Jesus fucking Christ, boys!” I snapped.

They both glared at me, then at each other.

“This is getting out of hand. Both of you. Relax.”

“Look, Sam. You’re immune to some weird ass demon virus, and I don’t even know what the hell anymore. You’re pissed at me, I get it. That’s fine. I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move. Okay?”

“Forget it.” Sam scoffed, turning away once more.

“Sammy.” I called.

“Please, man. Hey, hey, please. Please.” Dean begged.

“I’m going-”

“Sam! Give us some time to think. Please.” I caught his arm.

“We’re begging you. Please.”

Sam sighed and gave us a reluctant nod.

                                                            ***

“Bug.” Sam shook me softly.

I groaned and rolled onto my side. “What?”

“Hey. Come on, we’ve gotta move.”

I sat up with a huff. “Why?”

“We’ll explain later. Come on, I packed all your stuff. Dean’s waiting in the car.”

I rubbed my eyes and stumbled out of bed. Sam picked me up and held me against his hip. I snuggled my head into the crook of his neck and let myself fall back asleep.

                                                            ***

I yawned and sat up. I rubbed my eyes and looked over. Sam was in the driver’s seat, staring at me with a soft smile.

“What the fuck?”

“Hey, bug.”

“Where the fuck are we? This isn’t Baby. Where’s Jinx?” I sat up straight and backed away from Sam. “Where’s Dean?”

“Look-”

“Sam, what the fuck is going on?”

“We’re at the Roadhouse.”

I looked over to see that we were, indeed, in the parking lot of the shoddy building. I scowled as I turned back to Sam.

“You fucking lied to me.” I struggled with the car door.

“Ollie-”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” I hissed, finally stumbling out of the unfamiliar black car.

“Olive-”

“Christo.”

Sam only stared with a bitchface. I whimpered and crossed my arms over my chest as he began to walk toward the door.

“Why?”

“Because we need to figure out what’s happening!”

“Not without Dean!” I scoffed as we trailed into the Roadhouse.

“Sam. Olive.”

“Hey, Ellen.” Sam gave her a sheepish smile. “You don’t seem that surprised to see us.”

“Well…” Ellen hummed. “Dean’s been calling. He’s worried sick, running around the country looking for you two.

Sam huffed as we dropped onto the stools. “Yeah, I figured he might.”

Ellen eyed me. “I take it this wasn’t planned on your half.”

I looked up at her with a scowl. “I was kidnapped.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I want Dean.” I hissed at Sam.

“What’s going on between your boys?”

“Dean made a mistake and now Sam is being-”

“How’s Jo?” Sam cut me off.

Ellen sighed. “I don’t really know.”

Sam and I glanced at each other, and I immediately remembered that I was upset with him. I turned back to Ellen.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after she worked that job with you kids, she decided she wanted to keep on hunting. I said ‘not under my roof’ and she said ‘fine’. I don’t know where she is now.”

“So we’re probably the last people you wanna see right now.” Sam sighed.

Ellen gave a chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, I wish I could blame you kids. It’d be easier. Truth is, it’s not your fault. None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your Daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill… I just don’t think he ever forgave himself.”

Sam shifted, uncomfortable. “What really… did happen?”

“Um, so… why did you guys come here?”

“I need help.”

“I’ll get Ash.” Ellen put the rag and cup down and disappeared into the back.

“Ollie, look-”

“Dude, you can do whatever you want, I don’t care where you go or why or when, but I’m staying here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m staying here until Dean comes to pick me up.” I turned my nose up the other way.

Sam sighed. “Fine.”

                                                            ***

I swung my legs and leaned forward as Ash came out of his back room. He flipped a piece of paper around in his hand and placed it on the bar in front of Sam.

“Done and done.”

“That was fast.” Sam snorted.

“Well, apparently, that’s my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard.”

I sighed and sunk further into my seat as Ellen shook her head. “Just tell us what you got, Ash.”

“Four folks fit the profile nationwide. Born in '83, mother died in a nursery fire, the whole shebang.”

“Four? That’s it?”

Ash nodded. “Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and uh… one last name. Scott Carey.”

I sighed. “That’s the only one we haven’t met yet.”

“You got an address?” Sam turned to Ash.

“Kind of… the Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot 486.”

I closed my eyes as I repeated it to myself in my head.

“So he’s dead?” Sam sighed.

“Killed, about a month ago.”

“Killed?” Sam repeated. “How?”

“Stabbed. Parking lot. Fuzz don't have much, no suspects.”

“Alright. Thank you, guys.” Sam got up.

Ash slapped him on the back before snaking his beer.

“Where are you going?”

“Indiana.”

“Sam?” Ellen called.

He turned.

“You’re not taking Olive?”

He looked at me. I shook my head.

“I’ll wait for Dean.”

“I’ve gotta call him. I’ve gotta let him know where you are, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “Ellen. I’m trying to find answers about who I am. My brother means well, but he can’t protect me from that. Please.”

Ellen sighed and nodded reluctantly. Sam came back my way and held his arms open. I shuffled out of my seat and accepted the hug, leaning against him.

“I’m sorry, bug.”

I shook my head. “I’ll see you when we’re all together again. Be careful.”

“Always.”

                                                            ***

The phone rang from behind the bar, and I sighed. It was the fifth call in the last half hour. None of them had been Dean. I had little hope this one would be. I hadn’t memorized Dean’s latest phone number, and Sam had taken my phone with him. Ellen shot me a sympathetic smile as she picked the phone up and held it to her ear.  “Ellen speaking.” A beat. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. Sweetie! Hang on a second.”

She looked at me and nodded me over. “It’s Dean.”

I scrambled around to the other side of the bar and held the phone to my ear. “De?”

“Baby girl! Hey, baby. Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m okay. Look, De, Sammy’s in Indiana. Lafayette. Uh, Arbor Hill Cemetery. There’s someone else like him, but the kid’s dead.”

“Okay, listen, princess, I’m coming to get you. Okay?”

“No, De! Oklahoma to Indiana is a 12 hour drive. You don’t have time.”

“I’m coming to get you. Okay? Just be ready.”

I sighed. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

                                                            ***

“Dean!” I squeaked as the Impala stopped on the side of the road.

“Beanie!” He jogged across the street and plucked me off my feet, swinging me around.

I snuggled into his grip, wrapping my arms and legs around him. He hooked me on his hip and walked us back into the Roadhouse. Jinx followed, tail wagging as she yapped.

“Dean.” Ellen smiled.

“Hi. Thanks for keeping my kid safe.” He gave me an extra squeeze.

“De, you’ve been driving for hours. Maybe we should find a place to stay the night?” I whispered.

“You guys are more than welcome to the beds out back if you’d like.”

Dean sighed. “Thanks, but I think we should keep moving.’’ He put me back on my feet and ruffled my head. “Ready to roll, kid?”

I snuggled back into his side and looked over at Ellen. “Ellen, Dean’ll take a beer if you don’t mind.”

She smiled. “Come sit.”

“But-”

“I’ll drive. You need a drink and a nap.” I grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

                                                            ***

“De, we’re here.” I put the car in park.

“Come on.” He grunted, climbing out of the car.

I followed, tossing him the keys as we looked at all the windows. A curtain fluttered in one, and I caught a glimpse of Sam.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay.” Dean mumbled to himself.

Sam moved, and a brown haired girl was standing in the room with him. I scoffed, and Dean grinned.

“Oh, he’s more than okay. Sam, you sly dog.”

Jinx let out a loud whine, and I felt an uneasy feeling grow in my chest. I looked around, confused.

“Ol?”

“Something’s wrong.” I hissed, feeling my fangs shift in my mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Sam’s in danger. We’ve gotta move.” I looked both ways before starting across the street.

“Where are you going?”

“Just trust me.” I beckoned him to follow.

Glass shattered, and both our heads snapped around to see that the window of Sam’s room was gone.

“Shit!”

“Come on!”

More shots rang out, and Dean pushed ahead of me. He held a hand up for me to stay back as we reached the rooftop. He grumbled a curse to himself before going out into the open.

“Gordon!”

I peeked out to see Gordon with a sniper rifle. Dean kicked him, pinned him, then punched him repeatedly in the face.

“You do that to my brother, I’ll kill you!”

“Dean, wait!” Gordon struggled.

I watched in horror as he managed to grab the rifle. He slammed into Dean’s face twice. I ducked back onto the fire escape, panting. Gordon would kill me if I didn’t win the fight. But I didn’t want to leave Dean in his hands alone.

I took a deep breath and pushed Jinx down the stairs. She whined and I growled at her. She turned tail and ran. Sam would grab her. I heard a gun cock, and I forced my fangs back into my mouth. I put my hands up as I slowly popped into view.

“Huh.” Gordon clicked his tongue. “Nice surprise.”

“Why do you wanna kill Sam?”

Gordon’s only response was to stalk closer and bash the butt of his gun into my knee. I crumbled to the ground.

                                                            ***

“Hello?”

“Dean! Olive!”

“Sams.” I called through gritted teeth.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah. Look, I’m in Indiana. Uh, Lafayette.”

“I know.” Dean glanced over at me.

“You do?”

“Yeah, dummy. I told him.”

“We just got here.”

“It’s a really funky town.” I grunted.

“You ditched us, Sammy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Look, right now there’s someone after me.”

“What? Who?” Dean feigned surprise.

“I don’t know, that’s what we need to find out. Where are you guys?”

“We’re staying at, uh…” Dean glared at Gordon.

Gordon pulled a gun and pressed it to my forehead. I clenched my jaw. My knee was throbbing, and I was starting to lose any feeling in the lower half of my leg. My kneecap was out of place, and there was a gash that was pumping blood.

“We’re at 5637 Monroe Street. Sams, why don’t you come to us? Since we have Jinx and all.” I added our last hint. “Oh! And can you bring my red shirt? I forgot it in the car.”

There was a pause, and I sighed. The situation was more than clear now.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there soon. Love you guys. Be safe.”

“Always.”

“Love you too.”

Sam hung up the phone, and Gordon tossed it aside with a sickening grin. “Now, was that so hard?”

I let my head fall backward and toward Dean.

“Bite me.” He spat.

Gordon ignored him, turning to rummage through his bag. He began to pull out weapons. One by one, he laid them on the table next to him.

“So, Gordy. I know me and my siblings ain’t exactly your favorite people, but don’t you think this is a little extreme?” Dean asked, trying his best to inch closer to me.

“What, you think this is revenge?” Gordon sharpened the knife he had cut Sam with four months earlier.

“Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days.” He chuckled. “Which was awesome. Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”

“Yeah.” Gordon hissed. “I was definitely planning on whooping your ass for that.”

Dean hummed.

“But that’s not what this is. This isn’t personal. I’m not a killer, Dean. I’m a hunter. And your little siblings are fair game.” He sheathed his knife.

Dean and I shared a look.

Oh, shit.

                                                            ***

“See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl. Seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the fucking thing muttered something. About a war that’s coming. I don’t think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out.” Gordon shifted the weight of his rifle. “But it was too late. Caught my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, if you got the right tools.”

I scowled. “What about the girl it was possessing?”

“Oh,” Gordon shook his head, “she didn’t make it.”

Dean huffed. “Well, you’re a son of a bitch.”

Gordon stood straight and walked right toward us. I strained against the ropes, but I was getting worse by the minute. Gordon backhanded Dean, and I flinched at the sound of skin against skin.

“That’s my momma you’re talking about… anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this war. Humans, fighting on hell’s side. You believe that? I mean, pft, they’re psychics, so they’re not exactly human. But still! What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?”

I glared as he swung the rifle around with each word.

“But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, this is… this is an entire new level of moronic. Even for you.”

“Yeah?” Gordon got in our faces. “Come on, Dean. I know. About Sam’s visions. About Olive’s abilities. I know everything.”

“Really?” Dean laughed again. “Because a demon told you?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t lying.” I spat.

“Hey, look. I’m not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure both things were true. Look, you’ve got you Roadhouse connections, I’ve got mine. It’s how I found Sammy in the first place.” Gordon crossed back to the corner and sat down again. “About a month ago, I found another one of those freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them.”

“Yeah, did he kill anyone?” Dean taunted.

“Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too.” Gordon cocked the rifle.

“Do you really think Sam’s stupid enough to walk through that front door?”

“No.” Gordon chuckled. “I don’t. Especially since I’m sure you two found ways to warn him. Huh, you really think I’m that stupid?”

Dean and I both raised our eyebrows as we looked down. Gordon got up and began to pace.

“No. Sammy’s gonna scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he’s gonna take the back. And when he does, he’ll hit the tripwire. Then…” He pulled a grenade from his bag. “Boom.”

“Sam’s not gonna fall for a fucking tripwire.”

“He’s not stupid.” I spat.

“Maybe you two are right. That’s why I’ll have a second one.”

There was a long pause. I shifted. If the gash in my knee didn’t kill me, Gordon most certainly would.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, Dean. I wish I didn’t have to do this, I really do. But for what it’s worth, it’ll be quick. And after we’re done with Sam, we can let princess here run loose so that I can gun her down.”

                                                            ***

“He’s gonna kill me, De.” I whimpered.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “No, I won’t let him.”

Gordon came back into the room and straddled a chair, a foot away from us.

“Come on, man. I know Sam, okay? Better than anyone. He’s got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the internet for porn. And Olive?” Dean scoffed. “I mean, look at her. She’s just a kid. Hell, she needs to be snuggled to sleep.”

“Maybe you’re right. But one day they’ll be monsters.”

“How?” I snapped. “I get me. But how’s someone like Sam become a monster?”

“Beats me.” Gordon shrugged. “But he will.”

“No! You don’t know that.” Dean sneered. “Neither of them will.”

“I’m surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I’d heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let’s say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But if you knew what he would become. You’d take him out. No questions. Right?”

“That’s not Sam, you asshat.” I snarled.

“Yes it is. You just can’t see it yet. It’s his destiny. Look, I’m sympathetic. He’s your brother, you love the guy. This has gotta hurt like hell for you two.” Gordon pulled out two shreds of fabric and stalked toward us. “But here’s the thing.”

He gagged Dean, then tied the second piece around my mouth. I held back a choke as my fangs immediately sunk into the fabric.

“It would wreck him, but your dad? If it really came down to it, he would’ve had the stones to do the right thing here. You’re telling me you’re not the man he is?”

                                                            ***

The lock in the back door clicked, and I looked at Dean with wide eyes. My body was drained, and I had long since kicked into what Dean referred to as ‘monster mode’. My jaw was beginning to lock and I was on the verge of passing out, but knowing Sam was safe was my priority. 

“You hear him?” Gordon asked.

There was the creak of the door, and Sam’s heavy footsteps were audible.

“Here he comes.” Gordon grinned.

Dean grunted, and I worked my jaw harder, teeth ripping at the scarf bit by bit. Sam took another step. I tore the scarf in two.

“Sam!”

I screamed too late, and there was an explosion in the back room. Dean screamed, and I roared, tears welling in my eyes. Gordon didn’t look our way.

“Hold on. Not yet. Just wait and see.” He spoke calmly.

“Sammy!” I shouted again, but the second grenade went off anyways.

Dean began to choke, tears falling down his cheeks. I let my head fall forward. Blood mixed with spit began to drop down onto my lap. I whimpered.

“Sorry, Dean.”

Gordon held his rifle up as he sauntered out of the room. Dean began to sob, and I closed my eyes. Gordon’s footsteps were heavier than Sam’s, and I could think of nothing more than ripping his spinal cord out with my teeth.

There was the cocking of a gun, and a soft step. “Drop the gun.”

Sam.

I shot up, eyes wide. I looked at Dean, but he was still crying. He couldn’t hear Sam.

“Sams!”

“You shouldn’t take your shoes off around here.” Gordon warned. “You might get tetanus.”

“Put it down now!” Sam ordered.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother and sister, they think you’re some kind of saint.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam hissed.

“See? That’s what I said.” Gordon whispered.

There was a grunt, followed by a series of punches. A wall crashed, and I knew by the thud that followed that Sam had just hit the ground. Dean struggled against his ropes, and I whimpered before tearing my own off. My wrists started to bleed right away, and I tumbled out of my seat.

Dean grunted, staring at me with wide eyes. I tried to get to my feet, but my leg gave out. Dean panted. I turned to sit and took a deep breath. I held my knee to my chest and breathed again. Dean watched, concerned. I paused before slamming my kneecap back into place. I let out a pained scream, and Dean’s face drained of color when I looked back up at him.

He squinted.

Are you okay?

I nodded as I got to my feet.

“Sam!” I called, shuffling through the rooms.

“Do it!” Gordon screamed.

Sam had him pinned, rifle against his forehead.

“Do it! Show your family the killer you really are, Sammy!”

I stumbled behind Sam and took the rifle from him. Gordon stared as a look of terror washed over his face. I wavered, and Sam grabbed my waist, holding me steady. I pulled the rifle back before slamming the butt of it into his head. He went out, cold.

“It’s Sam.” He spat.

I dropped the gun and began to fall backward. Sam caught me and pulled me into his chest.

“It’s alright.”

I looked up at him. He had cuts scattered all over his face. His cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, his lip. A bloody nose, messy hair, tired eyes. I let out a whimper and began to sob.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and cupped my cheeks. “It’s okay. Let’s go get Dean, yeah?”

We walked back to where Dean was tied up, feet dragging as we leaned against each other. Dean grunted at the sound of our footsteps. Sam clapped his shoulder as we stood behind him. I began to untie Dean’s gag as Sam knelt to untie his ropes. Dean shook his head and tore himself out of the last rope. He pulled Sam to stand and stared at him, hands on his shoulders. Sam nodded as he panted, grabbing Dean by the shoulders.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean hissed as he wheeled around and toward the door.

“Dean, no.”

“I let him live once. I’m not making the same mistake twice.” Dean growled.

“Trust me.” Sam sighed. “Gordon’s taken care of.” He leaned forward and grabbed Dean by the jacket, pulling him toward the door. “Come on.”

Sam and I stayed on his tail as we shuffled out of the cabin. We were greeted by Jinx, who had been tied to a tree nearby. She whined and started to paw at the ground. Dean untied her and took the leash off, tucking it into his pocket.

Jinx turned, and her tail stopped wagging. She let out a loud whine and started to run.

“What…”

There was a gunshot, and we turned to see Gordon with a gun in each hand. I tripped and fell, and Sam dragged me off the ground, hauling me over his shoulder.

“Come on!” Dean shouted, leading the way.

He jumped into a ditch, and Sam dumped me in. I hit the ground and rolled, groaning as I tried to untwist my knee.

“You call this taken care of?” Dean howled as Jinx and Sam ducked into the ditch with us.

“Sammy, what the hell are we doing?” I hissed as Gordon stalked closer, firing without end.

Dean pulled me into his side, making sure I was out of sight.

“Just trust me on this, alright?”

As if on cue, sirens blared, and the sounds of cops and their demands met our ears. I flinched and ducked further into Dean. Sam held Jinx as we stared at each other, eyes wide. We peeked up through the shadows to see Gordon dropping to his knees, glaring in our direction.

The boys grinned and I held back a giggle. I looked up at Sam, then Dean with a huge smile on my face. Sam leaned down.

“Anonymous tip.”

Dean shook his head with a smile. “You’re a fine, upstanding citizen, Sam.”

                                                            ***

I frowned as Sam finished bandaging my leg. I huffed, and he ruffled my hair.

“All better, okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He held his hands out for me as I slid off the hood of the car. He glanced over, and I turned to see him staring at Dean, who was on the phone and fuming as he paced around. I sighed and turned back to Sam.

He smiled. “Come on, bug. You should get to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

I yawned as he opened the passenger side door. “Fine.”

He slid in next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into his side and yawned again.

                                                            ***

“Hey, Ava, it’s Sam… Again. Um, call me when you get this. Just wanna make sure you got home okay. Alright. Bye.” Sam hung up the phone with a sigh.

“Everything alright, Sams?”

“Yeah. I hope so.” He huffed.

“Well, at least Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least.” Dean grinned.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed again. “If they pin Scott Carey’s murder on him. And if he doesn’t bust out.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Well, if he does, I’m fucking wasting him.”

Dean looked over at Sam, then back at the road, licking his lips. “Dude, you ever take off like that again…”

“What? You’ll kill me?” Sam jested.

“That is so not funny.” Dean hissed.

Sam laughed and I rolled my eyes, leaning further into his side and letting my eyes fall shut.

“Alright. So where to next, then?”

“One word. Amsterdam.”

“Dean.” Sam scoffed.

“Come on, man. I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee.”

“Oh, and they’ve got the van Gogh museum there!” I piped up.

“I’m not just gonna ditch the job.”

“Man, fuck the job.” I squeaked.

Dean blinked, taken aback. “I mean, she’s right. We don’t get paid, we don’t get thanked. The only thing we get’s bad luck.”

“Well, come on, dude. You’re a hunter. I mean, it’s what you were meant to do.”

“Ah, I wasn’t meant to do shit. I don’t believe in that destiny crap.”

Sam half smiled. “You mean you don’t believe in my destiny.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean huffed.

Sam sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ve tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California, and look what happened. We can’t run from this. And you can’t protect us.”

Dean looked back at us. “I can try.”

“Thanks for that.” Sam whispered.

My shoulders dropped and I shifted from Sam’s side to Dean’s, wrapping my arms around one of his.

“Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam spat back.

They grinned at each other, and I smiled, letting my head fall against Dean’s shoulder. There was a long pause before Sam picked up his phone again.

“You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?”

“She’s engaged, Dean.” Sam scoffed.

“So what? What’s the point of saving the world if you can’t get a little nookie once in a while, huh?” Dean teased.

Sam hung up, a scowl on his face. I frowned.

“Sams?”

“Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?”

                                                             ***

Sam picked the lock and led the way. I swept my flashlight around as we stalked down the hall.

“Hello? Is anybody home?”

“Ava?”

Sam stopped in a doorway and I ran into him. Dean stepped on the back of my heels before scrambling backward.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sam?”

“Oh my god.” He whispered.

I snuck under his arm and gasped. A man was lying on the bed, face-up and drenched in blood. Dean pushed past Sam and ran his finger along a windowsill. He huffed and held his finger up.

“Hey.”

Sam turned.

“Sulfur. Demon’s been here.”

“What’s that?” I squinted, pointing to something shiny on the floor.

Sam knelt and picked it up. He sighed.

“Ava.”

Previous Ep: Croatoan (2.09)

Next Ep: Playthings (2.11)

taglist: @i67​

[notfunnydean]

Challenge: SPN Family Quarantine Bingo Prompt: Dreamcatcher Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: Watching someone’s dreams, first kiss, fluff, cute!Dean, crying!Dean Word Count: 3.620 Summary: Dean can’t sleep. There are too many nightmares and he struggles to get through them. Castiel has an idea to help but somehow this turns out different than they both think. It turns into something better. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400031

“Good morning.” Sam says happily, when he enters the kitchen. Dean grumbles something into his mug, filled with way too hot coffee, but he doesn’t care. Today already sucks and it’s only nine am.

Sam stops on his way to the counter to look at Dean, who almost hides his face. He knows how he looks. His hair is still a mess, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers are shaking.

“You okay?” Sam wants to know before he takes an apple out of the bowl and bites loudly into it. Dean looks as annoyed as he can and then rolls his eyes too.

“Do I look okay to you?” Dean snaps and he can’t even help it. He didn’t sleep tonight, or yesterday or any night of this week. Well no, he does sleep a bit, but he wakes up screaming bloody murder because of his nightmares.

“Rough night?” Sam guesses and Dean nods. Already feeling exhausted from this short conversation. His head is pounding and he doesn’t even want to finish the bacon on his plate. Alone that should be a clear sign.

“Yeah. I… had a bad dream.” Dean offers, even though he doesn’t want to talk about his dreams to Sammy. Sure they at least inform each other that they have nightmares, but they rarely talk about them in detail.

Dean would not change that tradition today.

Or ever.

“About… Rowena?” Sam whispers, sounding sad himself now. Dean feels himself shaking his head, while his heart grows heavy. Yeah of course he misses her, she kind of grew on him, right?

“Not only.” Dean manages and Sam nods shortly. They both don’t want to talk about it. Too much guilt on both their hands. Too much blood.

“Ketch too, huh?” Sam says, while he gets himself some coffee. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, feeling worse with every minute. 

He should feel bad for Rowena and Ketch, right? Or Kevin. They were all his friends and while… and while Dean misses them and knows he will suffer in hell for their death again… the nightmares are not about them.

Anymore.

“Whatever. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dean whispers and he hopes Sam would drop the topic already. Dean could for sure just take some sleeping pills or whatever. Maybe he should drink a bit more again.

“Dean.”

Dean almost pours the coffee over his robe, when he hears that voice. Castiel is standing in the doorway, looking a bit nervous. After their talk in Purgatory, Dean has no idea how… how to look him into the eyes. 

Fuck. He had almost poured his whole heart out there. But luckily Castiel didn’t let him finish when they had met each other again. 

Saved him the heartbreak. Or at least that’s what he is telling himself. 

“Hiya Cas.” Dean whispers, not looking at the angel, while Castiel walks into the kitchen. Dean knows now that Castiel’s grace is low and he is glad that the angel is back in their bunker and not… elsewhere.

“Dean is grumpy. He has not been sleeping well.” Sam says and Dean glares at his brother. What a damn traitor. Dean growls, before he looks up at Castiel, almost batting his eyelashes and what the fuck!?

“Dean, why didn’t you tell me. I could’ve helped.” Castiel says and Dean winces quietly. That is exactly what he didn’t want. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with my silly dreams.” Dean finally gets out, but Castiel is already shaking his head. Castiel sits down as well and takes Dean’s hand into his own one. Dean’s eyes widen at that.

“I can help you.” Castiel says, sounding so horrible honest. Dean looks down at their hands. He knows exactly how he would sleep a lot better, but he can’t say that. He wouldn’t… put himself out there.

“I don’t want you to spend even more grace on me.” Dean settles on and Castiel smiles so softly at him. Dean’s heart almost jumps out of his chest because of that. 

“I won’t have to. Remember Sergei? I bought a few things from him and I should just have what you need.” Castiel says and he already gets up from the table. Dean watches a bit helplessly as Castiel leaves.

Sergei. He hates that guy. He didn’t even know they stayed in contact and it bugs him a lot.

“You know, you could just tell him.” Sam says, as if he knows anything - oh god does he know? Dean leans back to look at his brother, who smiles well too knowingly. Fuck.

“Shut up! This is all your fault.” Dean says and then he yawns so hard, that his jaw pops loudly. Dean whines pitifully.

Why does God hate him?

Well he knows why.

*

“This is weird.” Dean says, when he sits on the edge of his bed. It’s late again, Dean is still just as tired as this morning and Castiel is not really helping.

“It is not. So where do you want it?” Castiel asks and he holds this monstrum up. Dean growls and then gets up to find his drilling machine. Castiel smiles way too smugly, while Dean kicks off his shoes and then stands on his bed.

“For the record, you tell anyone about this and I will kill you.” Dean says and they both know that is not true. Still he takes the bright rosa dreamcatcher reluctantly and attaches it to his ceiling.

It looks of course horrible.

The dreamcatcher has a lot of feathers on it. A lot of them are black. Dean carefully strokes over one of them, somehow they remind him of something. Otherwise there are a lot of pearls in there and some glitter.

“I think it looks great.” Castiel says happily from where he is standing. Dean groans and then sits down on his bed, getting rid of his flannel. He would change the rest of his clothes, when Castiel is gone.

“Of course you would. And you think this works?” Dean asks, looking up to the Dreamcatcher again. It should be right over his head, while he sleeps. At least it will be dark then, so Dean doesn’t have to see it.

But he would still know it is there. Urgh.

“Yes. Sergei said it will catch your dreams and you will not be disturbed while sleeping. Even the worst nightmares will get stuck in it.” Castiel explains and Dean nods, before he wipes over his face. 

His head is already hurting.

“Okay fine, I’ll try it, but if it doesn’t help, I wanna kick Sergei’s ass.” Dean says and Castiel smiles so genuinely again. Dean loves that smile, it’s soft and only meant for him. He wishes Castiel would always look like that.

“Deal and now sleep, Dean. I wish you ‘Sweet Dreams’.” Castiel says and he walks over to the door. Dean doesn’t know what’s worse, that he is still doing his air quotes or that he waves at Dean before leaving.

Dean’s heart squeezes painfully. He’s way too much in love with him and that is exactly the problem. Dean’s nightmares?

They are full of Castiel leaving. Again. Forever. Permanent. 

Dean shudders and then gets out of his jeans. He finds a soft pair of sweatpants and dresses in them, with another dark shirt and then he finally lays down in his bed. He watches the Dreamcatcher dangle from his ceiling.

“Weird. So weird.” Dean mumbles and then turns onto his stomach. Luckily this time it doesn’t even take long for him to fall asleep.

*

“Dean!”

Castiel smiles widely when the hunter comes into the kitchen. Dean already looks so much better this morning. His hair is soft and sticks in every direction and there is the tiniest smile on his lips. 

“Hey Cas. I have to say man, that ugly thing worked.” Dean says and Castiel didn’t realize he was actually holding his breath. He is so glad it worked, Dean deserves some good sleep after everything he does for the world.

“I’m glad, Dean. I told you it would work.” Castiel says and Dean rubs over his hair, while grinning at him. Castiel’s heart stutters in his chest. Dean looks utterly adorable sometimes and Castiel’s fingers itch to touch his hair as well, but he knows he is not allowed.

While Dean starts to prepare some breakfast, Castiel can’t help but think back to Purgatory. He had heard Dean crying, telling him he would forgive him and he had wished for something more.

When they had seen each other again, Dean wanted to tell him more. But Castiel’s heart couldn’t bear another ‘You’re family Cas’ and so he stopped him.

“Here we go.” Dean says happily, he even whistles, and puts a plate in front of Castiel. The angel smiles himself, when he sees that Dean made him some sort of special breakfast burrito. He knows how much Castiel enjoys them.

Lately he’s able to taste food a lot more anyway.

“I mean it, Cas. Thank you so much.” Dean says, when he is sitting in front of Castiel, his plate even fuller than Castiel’s. The hunter grins before he starts to stuff his face and Castiel admires him for a second, before he starts with his own food.

Their feet under the table touching.

*

Castiel knocks on Dean’s door a few hours later. When the hunter doesn’t answer, Castiel opens the door and finds the room indeed empty. 

Well then he would change the Dreamcatcher on his own. Castiel looks at the feathers in his hand and then carefully takes the stool that is in the corner of the room and puts it next to the bed, so he wouldn’t ruin Dean’s bedsheets.

He takes his old feathers out of the Dreamcatcher and they glow in a dark blue, when he touches them. Castiel sighs. Seems like the dreams were really bad. He takes three new feathers and binds them into the Dreamcatcher.

Just as he steps down the stool, the old feather in his hand glows a lot more. Castiel sits down on the bed, closing his hand. His eyes glowing blue and the world around him changes. 

Castiel gasps and suddenly it’s dark around him. He feels like he just broke through the water surface or something.

“Cas please!” 

Castiel looks up at that and his eyes widen when he sees himself and Dean. They are in the bunker, Dean sitting on the war table, glass of whiskey in his hands. The other Castiel is standing with his back to Dean.

“Well, I don't think there's anything left to say.” The other version of himself says and Castiel realizes what this is. His fight with Dean. This time Castiel can see Dean’s reaction. The pain in his eyes. 

“Where are you going?” Dean asks and Castiel’s chest hurts just as much as it did, when he really experienced it back then. The other version of Castiel leaves, he walks slowly upstairs and the door sounds too loud.

Castiel’s breath hitches when he looks back to Dean.

The glass in his hands falls loudly to the ground, but Dean doesn’t seem to care about the whiskey. Instead he puts both of his hands over his eyes and to Castiel’s utter shock, he starts to cry.

Not quiet, not pretty. No he pours his heart out.

“‘m sorry, Cas! Please… don’t please don’t go. I… I just miss my mom and… not you too Cas. Please don’t le-leave me here alone.” 

Dean sobs loudly and Castiel wishes he could go over there and comfort him. Dean’s words still hurt, of course they do. But Castiel understands that Dean said them in anger and because of the loss of his mother, that he can’t move on from.

Of course it’s still wrong to let it all out on Castiel, but the angel knows Dean is sorry for it. Still it hurts him to see Dean likes this.

“Cas, come b-back please!”

And just like that Castiel opens his eyes again and he is back in Dean’s room. Dean’s pleas still loud in his ears. Castiel presses the feathers against his chest and leaves.

Dean’s biggest nightmare is Castiel leaving. And not coming back.

*

The next days continue just like that. Dean sleeps better, Castiel takes care of the dreamcatcher on his own and finds his heart breaking at each nightmare. It’s always the same. 

Castiel leaving Dean after a fight.

Castiel dying.

Castiel leaving Dean for heaven.

“I hope you sleep well.” Castiel says, when he finds himself in Dean’s room again. Dean knows at least that he has to power the dreamcatcher up each night, but he doesn’t know how.

Castiel hadn’t told him that those are his feathers, but at least had assured him that it wouldn’t eat his grace away.

“I’m sure I will.” Dean says yawning already. He sits on the edge of the bed, already wearing his clothes for the night. Castiel loves that look on him and he wishes he could just lay down beside him. Hold Dean.

“Me too and Dean…?” Castiel says, when Dean finally lays down. The blankets are new, softer and thicker as well. Dean’s green eyes are already smaller. He’s really tired and so adorable.

“Hm?” Dean makes and Castiel smiles.

“I can’t wait to see you in the morning.” Castiel whispers, not even waiting for an answer before he closes the door. It’s not the promise that he wanted to give Dean, but it’s a start. 

Castiel had done that a lot lately. He always tells Dean where he would go and when he would be back and it seems to work, because Dean seems more relaxed lately. He seems happy.

Castiel imagines how he cuddles now in his blankets and thinks of him. Maybe one day, Castiel would be allowed to see him like this. Soft and sweet sleeping in his arms.

Sure he had seen Dean sleeping before. But normally Dean moves a lot during his sleep, drowning in nightmares and tears. He watched over him before, until Dean banned him from doing so. 

He really hopes that would soon change.

*

The next morning, Dean actually goes on a morning run with Sam and he tells them happily about this new recipe he wants to try for dinner. Sam seems eager as well and tells him about the farmer market they could run to, to buy everything they need. Castiel can’t help but smile himself and Sam seems to do better as well.

Castiel uses the time to change the Dreamcatcher again. This time he stops in his movement, because his feathers aren’t glowing in a dark blue. Instead there is a soft pink around it.

Maybe that means Dean didn’t have any dream tonight. Castiel looks down at his feather, closing his hand around them. Wouldn’t hurt to check what the color means, right?

“Hiya Cas!”

Castiel looks up, when Dean enters the kitchen. He probably followed the smell and that’s why he is still not dressed. Again only in his sleeping clothes and in his robe, but Castiel has to say he really enjoys that sight.

“Good morning Dean. I made you breakfast.” Other-Castiel answers and Dean is behind him in just a second. Dean even puts his head on Castiel’s shoulder and looks into the pan. The other Castiel smiles widely. 

“I know why I fell in love with you.” Dean answers happily, before kissing Other-Castiel’s neck. Other-Castiel chuckles and turns around in Dean’s arms, putting his own arms around Dean’s neck.

“That the only reason?” Other-Castiel asks cheekily and Dean shakes his head. Pouting adorably, before leaning closer and kissing Other-Castiel. The kiss stays incredibly soft, but Castiel’s heart aches for this.

He can’t believe Dean would dream about something like this. He almost holds his hands out, when Dean breaks the kiss.

“But it’s one of the reasons.” Dean says cheekily while he grabs around Castiel and steals a piece of bacon out of the pan, before stuffing it in his mouth. Other-Castiel laughs loudly, when Dean bats his eyelashes.

“You are unbelievable.”

Just then the world around Castiel turns again and he finds himself back in Dean’s bedroom. He almost huffs, because he is annoyed that he didn’t get to see much, when he looks right into wide green eyes.

“Cas what the fuck!”

Oh no. This is the real Dean standing in front of him and he looks a bit angry. Castiel swallows and the feathers are almost falling out of his hands.

“I was just…” Castiel starts but Dean shakes his head.

“I forgot my wallet and when I come back you are in my room, staring at nothing, your eyes a bright pink and lost in something. Did you… did you watch my dreams?” Dean’s voice breaks at the end.

The betraying so clear in his eyes. Dean is hurt. Again, because of Castiel.

“Dean wait, I didn’t know at first that I could do that. It was an accident.” Castiel tries but it sounds weak in his own ears. Dean looks to the ground, his jaw ticking.

“How long?” Dean asks, his voice sharp.

“S-since the first night, but Dean I didn’t…” Castiel doesn’t finish the sentence because he has no idea what to say. Dean continues to look down, Castiel is afraid that now they will fight again.

“I… I don’t remember my dreams but I can guess what they are about. But today I had a good dream and I remembered this one. And… Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean finally looks up his green eyes full of tears.

And before Castiel can react, he already turns around and is on his way out. Castiel sputters at nothing, but luckily he is faster than the hunter.

He catches him in the war room and holds him against his chest. Dean doesn’t even struggle, so Castiel pushes him with his ass on the war table.

“Cas please - I really didn’t mean to fall…” 

While this is what Castiel always wanted to hear, he kisses Dean quiet. He can’t wait any longer for this. Dean whines quietly but opens his mouth without any further protest and Castiel kisses him like there is no tomorrow.

When he breaks the kiss, Dean’s eyes stay closed for a few seconds longer. Castiel smiles a bit, when they do flutter open.

“What?” Dean whispers and he even strokes over his lips, as if he can’t believe Castiel kissed him, so the angel presses another kiss to his forehead. He wishes he’d never have to stop kissing Dean.

“I’m in love with you too.” Castiel says and Dean looks so shocked before there starts to form a smile on his lips as well. 

“I dreamed about this.” Dean says and Castiel looks a bit sad, almost apologizing again, before Dean winks at thim.

“I know.” Castiel answers just as smug and then they stare at each other. Dean is still sitting on the war table, Castiel standing between his legs. Dean is only wearing shorts and Castiel strokes over his thighs. 

“I’m still sorry for just looking into your dreams, I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t stop because I hoped that you would love me too.” Castiel tries to explain himself. Dean nods slowly.

“It’s… okay. I understand why you did it and I’m just glad… it led to this.” Dean grins a tiny bit and when he leans closer, Castiel kisses him shortly. Dean seems pleased.

“Too bad it wasn’t a sexy dream.” Castiel mutters into Dean’s ear, who gasps quietly at that. Castiel laughs, seems like someone already had those.

“Hmm, I’m sure I can show you some time, what I dreamed about before.” Dean whispers back, he sounds so lascivious. Castiel can’t wait to hear more about those dreams. Can’t wait for Dean to show him.

“Do they involve those shorts?” Castiel wonders and Dean laughs loudly. 

“No they do not, but we could easily change that. For now though, Sam is waiting outside.” Dean says and Castiel helps him up from the table. Dean is right, that all could wait, Castiel is just happy that they finally solved this.

“Fine. I’ll make you breakfast. Extra bacon, extra cheese.” Castiel says and Dean hums happily, before kissing Castiel again.

Seems like they both can’t stop.

Dean finally jogs up the stairs but he stops at the balcony again.

“Cas? Your uh feather… it didn’t hurt you did it?” Dean asks, clear worry in his voice. Castiel shakes his head.

“No, I lose them all the time, normally you just don’t see them.” Castiel answers, smiling up at Dean, who seems a bit relieved when he hears that.

“Well if I have to keep the shorts, you should show me your feathers more often.” Dean smirks and Castiel laughs loudly. That sounds like a good deal.

“Fine. Now go and be safe. I love you.” 

Dean looks surprised at that and he turns red all over, Castiel can easily see that. The blush looks beautiful on Dean’s cheeks. He needs to see this more often.

“Love you.” Dean mumbles so sweetly before he is out of the door.

Castiel clearly hears Sam asking what took him so long and if he already ran because he is so red in the face. He doesn’t hear Dean’s embarrassed answer, but he doesn’t have to. 

Instead he indeed goes into the kitchen to make breakfast. But to be honest he can’t wait for the night. Because this time he would make sure to be the one keeping the bad dreams away.

He keeps the dreamcatcher anyway.

For sentimental reasons. 

Dean doesn’t complain.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: We’re still at the angst, because someone’s obviously still an idiot. We also might detect some jealousy. 

WC: 4214

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​ <3

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Five days later, she’s sitting in her kitchen, job application website open on her laptop while Bobby’s at work and Olivia’s at school.

The first night was hard on the girl. Olivia crawled into bed with her, spinning up tales that she missed her toys they left at Dean’s but she is sure that a part of the little girl’s heart is aching for Dean because hers is too. 

Y/N hasn’t heard from him and it took everything in her not to shoot him a message and ask him how he’s doing. She’s fairly certain that if she would choose to go down that road, she’ll get weak and that’s against the new rule that she’s set up for herself in order to protect herself and her family.

Donna sent her a text when she arrived back at her old apartment, asking how her honeymoon was going and when Y/N told her that she’s back, Donna offered to come over. They sat around the tiny kitchen table with boxed wine between them, drinking and talking. Yeah, boxed wine. Over are the days of cheap bottles. Well, she reckons she could afford it with the money from the marriage contract but she’d rather not as she has a future to think about. 

She didn’t sulk, didn’t allow herself to. She needed to be strong for Olivia and keep it all together. Her friend parted with a promise to help her find a man who she deserved. She only smiled. Couldn’t find it in her heart to say that she’s not looking for a man, that she thinks that Dean’s ruined her for all other men, that she’s most likely destined to be alone forever. At least she has Liv, and honestly, that’s all that counts. God, she’s so glad to have that little girl. She would have been broken beyond repair if it wasn't for Liv. 

While she touches up her CV at the kitchen table where she poured her heart out to Donna the evening before, her phone starts to buzz next to her. Her heart jumps. She hates the buzz of her phone because she’ll always think that it could be Dean and when it’s not him, she will always feel so deflated. Somehow, she’s okay with the situation but a little part of her still hopes that he would change his mind and come back to her. 

This time it’s no different when she looks at her phone. If anything, it’s even worse. Sam’s calling. 

She debates on not picking up but decides that she has to because he’s probably calling about the annulment. It’s really the only thing left that keeps her tied to Dean on a contractual level, and after she signs that, it’s like the marriage never existed. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N,” The man can be heard on the other end. A little breath leaves him, and she can imagine that he’s smiling. Ever the friendly Sam. She can’t lie, she misses him too. 

“You’re calling about the annulment?” She gets straight to the point. There’s really no point in stretching this out unnecessarily. 

“Um, actually no. Dean’s not really talkative and he’s not going to sign it.” 

“What do you mean he’s not going to sign it?” She doesn’t understand, has a hard time wrapping her head around it. Why did Dean still want to be married to her when she walked away from him? There’s no point in pretending anymore and she has made up her mind. The only way she’s going is forward and not back. She wants to move on. 

“Don’t worry about it. He’s only been back two days, I need time to talk him through it. We should have the annulment finalized by Monday, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” She says into the receiver, because she does. If someone can talk sense into Dean, it will probably be Sam. “How is he?” 

“Do you want to hear the truth or do you want me to lie to make you feel better?” 

“Lie.” 

“He’s doing great.” 

“That’s good.” 

Sam snorts, “Well, I knew you'd feel better if you knew that he’s doing okay without you.”

“You’re right. I don’t want him to feel bad but somehow I also want him to, you understand?”

A burst of laughter rumbles on the other end, “I know,” Sam replies, “He’s a gigantic dick, Y/N. I think he knows that and he’s beating himself up for it. He’s been back at work for two days and according to Rowena, it’s hell. He doesn’t talk to anyone and if he opens his mouth, it’s to shout at people.” 

“Wow, he’s coping well.” 

The man laughs again, “Dean’s never been good at taking rejections. He’ll get over it, eventually. Someday. Maybe. Well,” Sam pauses and exhales loudly, “Tell you the truth, I don’t think he’ll get over it. I’ve never seen him like this and it scares me, hence me calling you.” 

Y/N feels sorry for him. And there she thought that she was miserable without him. Somehow it gives her a little satisfaction to know that he’s doing just as bad, if not worse. Can anyone blame her to feel like this?

“I’m not going to go back to him just so that he’ll stop being an ass to other people.” 

“That’s not what I was going to ask you about.”

“Ah, why beat around the bush, Sam. What is it?”

Sam sighs, “Okay, as you might know, Dean hasn’t told anyone that you two broke up.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” She hopes Sam can feel through the phone how hard she’s rolling her eyes right now.

“Shush,” Sam scolds  and continues before she can say sorry for interrupting him, “He has a charity gala to attend tonight, and it would be great if you would accompany him.”

The bark of laughter that leaves her mouth is hard to hold back, “You what?” 

Sam’s not laughing, “I mean it, Y/N. He’s not doing great and he has to attend. Technically you are still his wife and you have a contract, so..”

“Oh, please, don’t come at me with a contract, Sam. Dean told me that I’m allowed to walk away. He said that he doesn’t need me to get the shares. He wasn’t the one stopping me when I walked out on him, so tell me, why should I do this? Why should I pretend when I don’t have to anymore?”

“Because you still care about him,” 

Sam’s answer is a hit to her heart. She does. She cares so fucking much but also, that means that she’s not going to give in because it’s time to put herself first. She can’t hold herself together for Olivia’s sake when there’s nobody backing her up. She won’t go through this again. 

Of course Sam’s on Dean’s side. He’s friendly to her but if Sam would have to pick sides, it would always be Dean’s. 

“I’m sorry,” She says, her voice shaking a little. No, she’s not going to cry. Not again. Not anymore.

“Okay,” Sam relents too easily, “Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“No, I can’t. Dean’s lucky to have you as a friend.” She means it. 

“I’ll come to see you as soon as Dean signs the papers, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself and Olivia, okay? And tell me if you need anything.”

“I will, Sam. Thanks.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

She hangs up before she can say goodbye. The phone drops onto the table and she’s back to burying her face into her arms as she sobs. 

*

 For the next five weeks, Y/N  tries to avoid looking at tabloids pages, instead, concentrating on Olivia and helping to ease the little girl back into her old environment. 

Of course there have been texts from Donna telling her that there’s no news from Dean, at least not with another woman. She knows that she shouldn’t care about it, because if he wants to date again, it’s his right, but somehow, she can’t help but feel the pinpricks in her heart. It’s not something bad but something good because it keeps her hopes alive for a while. After she was reluctant to answer Donna's text about Dean in the first two weeks, her friend has decided that she doesn’t want to update Y/N anymore. Which is also fine with her. The less she’s reminded of Dean, the quicker it will be to get over him.

She snorts out a laugh at that thought. Yeah, right. 

Bobby has been weird the last two weeks too. He went out to meetings, saying it has something to do with his union but she knows that he doesn’t even have a union so she really doesn’t have any explanation for the two to three times the man went AWOL when he should be home but again, it’s nothing that should worry her. Bobby is still young enough to have his own life. She guesses that it has to do with a new lady friend maybe. Maybe Bobby’s being cautious too, maybe he doesn’t want her and Olivia to know when things aren’t steady with the two. She couldn’t blame him for thinking like that.

Tonight is the first time in over a month that she feels comfortable enough to leave the security of her own home. Perhaps Donna has something to do with it, begging her to finally go out and face the world, and Y/N can’t lie that Donna’s not right. It’s time to face it like a grown-up. She can’t be buried in her four walls forever. She eventually has to go out and socialize. She’s been going out a lot for interviews but that’s about it. No company has called her back yet, though. Thankfully, she still has more than enough money to get by. 

As soon as she arrives at The Roadhouse and Donna sees her, the woman is quick to be by her side, “I have a surprise for you!” 

“Oh no,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I hate surprises.” 

“It’s not bad, I just thought, you know,” 

“Donna,” She warns her friend. Somehow, she doesn’t like where this discussion is going. 

“There’s this guy, I invited him. He’s nice, so be nice, okay? He’s not going to be the love of your life, I know that too but you should put yourself out there, just a drink, okay? It will broaden up your horizon, maybe get your ex-husband out of your mind for a little bit.” 

Jesus, Donna’s talking a mile a minute. She barely understands what the woman is raving on about.

“What?”

“There,” Donna pulls her close, points a finger to the booth where Garth is sitting with someone whose back is turned to her. 

“Oh, Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna yes!” The blonde exclaims cheerily before placing her hands on Y/N shoulders and pushing her towards the booth. “His name is Cubbie.”

“Cub-what?” 

“It’s a nickname, Y/N.”

“If that’s the nickname I don’t wanna know about his real name.”

“Cuthbert. Cuthbert Sinclair, if you wanna know. He’s a magician.”

“That’s great. Super.” Y/N groans and turns around towards the exit but Donna’s hand is firm around her shoulders, guiding her back to where Garth is already standing up to make room for her. 

“Hey, Cubbie! This is Y/N, the woman I talked to you about.” Donna’s all smiles and somehow, Y/N’s hand itches to hurt her friend.

“I’m Y/N,” She says then. The only way is forward now. 

Cubbie, still what a fucking weird name, stands up and his hands immediately go to her arms and pulls her closer to press a wet kiss on her cheek. 

Ew. Oh no, this won’t end well. 

Reluctantly she sits down, wonders how long she has to sit here until she can get up and leave without being too rude. 

She lets him buy her a drink and he orders fries to share between them while they talk. It’s not exactly bad but they just share small talk about the weather and where they’re from.

“So, you’re a magician?” She tries to sound like she’s interested, wanting to get into the deeper conversational territory.

“Yeah,” Cubbie reaches over and strokes her hair behind her ear and when he sits back up, he shows her the coin that he apparently pulled out of her, a bright smile dotes his face. She does her best to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Good god,” She exclaims and the man laughs. 

He goes on to tell her about magic, which she again, has no interest in listening to. Jesus, the man can talk. While she debates on maybe hurting herself with a toothpick to have a fucking reason to get out, Cubbie excuses himself to go to the bathroom but before he goes, he leans down next to her, “How about we’re doing a little disappearing act, huh?”

“Oh god,” She huffs out but Cubbie doesn’t get her blatant disinterest. He just smiles at her.

“Think about it, I’ll be right back.”

Good riddance, is what she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead, she smiles a faux smile.

While he’s gone, she takes out her phone, shooting Bobby a text that she’ll probably won’t be that long when he feels someone is taking a seat in the booth opposite of her. 

“Back alread—”

The word won’t come out because it’s not Cubbie who’s sitting across from her but Dean. 

He has a cap on his head, is dressed casually in a black t-shirt underneath a blue plaid shirt. There are faint black circles under his eyes. He has shaved off his beard but from the length of the stubble, she can tell that he’s in the process of growing it out again. 

“C’mon, Y/N, seriously? That guy?” He asks, sounding offended, and honestly, it’s not what she really wants the first thing out his mouth to be after not being on speaking terms for over a month.

“It’s none of your business, Dean.” She snaps at him. 

“You’re right. It isn’t.” He agrees, “What is he? An accountant?”

“He has a name and he’s a magician.”

Dean barks out a laugh and even though it’s mean, she can’t help but smirk with him. 

“His name is Cubbie.” She adds, which earns another hearty laugh from Dean.

“Cubbie the magician?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if he has a stage name,” Y/N shrugs, “He asked me if I wanna do a disappearing act with him.”

“Oh, he will disappear, alright,” Dean growls angrily. 

She can’t read him. Why is he here, why is he crashing her blind date? So she asks, “Dean, what is this? Why are you here?” 

“I’m here every week to see if you’ll be here.”

“You know that there are phones, right?” 

“Would you have answered the phone if I called?” He challenges her and she holds his gaze. He’s right, she probably wouldn’t, even if she was hoping that he’d call but she doesn’t think that she would have picked it up because she doesn’t know if her heart can take what he’s going to tell her over the phone. “Yeah, I thought so. How’s Olivia?”

“She’s good. She enjoys being back at school. She’s going on a field trip in two weeks and I think I’m going to go along to chaperone.” 

Honestly, Y/N has no idea why she’s telling him that. Why she easily falls into a conversion with him about little things. But it feels easy, it feels like meeting an old friend. Someone where she can just pick up where they left off, even if they haven’t seen each other for a long time. Dean was her friend, she can’t deny that, and she guesses the reason why she feels at ease is that her heart can’t forget it either.

“I can do that, too,” Dean suggests without even thinking twice.

“Dean, she’s none of your concern, we’re fine without you.” Her words might be too harsh but he needs a reminder that not everything revolves around him. 

“Great.” He mumbles as Cubbie comes back from the bathroom. The poor guy stands there and is a little irritated by Dean’s presence. 

“You ready to leave?” Cubbie asks, straight up ignoring Dean’s presence and she has to give him that. It takes balls. Dean’s not someone who can be ignored. He’s tall and broad and yeah, awfully good looking. 

She stands up, nodding her head. Even if she has no intention of going anywhere with Cubbie, she also knows that she can’t stay here with Dean.

When she walks away, Dean holds her back by her wrist. The touch of him is almost too much to bear and she stills, has to close her eyes as she tries to breathe evenly. 

“You’re leaving with him? Seriously?” 

Opening her eyes to look at the source of the voice, she can clearly see the irritation on Dean’s face. 

Pulling her hand from his hold, she brings it close to her chest, fearing that she’d reach out if she let her heart decide over her mind, “It’s none of your business, Dean. You had your chance but you blew it. I’m trying to move on.” 

Dean stands up too and he’s close. The warmth radiates from him. Her body betrays her a little, sways a little closer to him. Cubbie is a couple of steps ahead but he stalls and looks back, waiting for her to follow him out. She wants to, she really does, it’s just so hard to move when the magnetic pull of Dean wraps itself around her. 

“Now, say it again a little more convincingly. Make me believe it.” Dean demands with a gruff voice while he crosses his arms over his chest, his palms nearly disappearing into his armpits, as if he too, has to resist reaching out to touch her again when it’s not what she wants.

How is it possible that he still can read her like a book? It’s not fucking fair. 

She narrows her eyes, staring him down. “You’re an ass, Dean.” She hisses and pushes out of the door, past Cubbie. When she’s out, she flags down a cab and gets in. Only when the driver rounds the street of the first block does she realize that she left Cubbie at the bar. Great. Now the act with her leaving the bar with some date is even less convincing to Dean. 

God, she’s a failure. 

 *

 “You know he still cares deeply about you, right?” Donna flops down on Y/N’s worn out couch with a bottle of beer in hand and Y/N walks over to join her friend with her glass of red wine. 

The incident at the bar in which Dean had held a metaphorical pissing competition against an oblivious Cubbie was four days ago. Almost a distant memory. She hasn’t heard from the magician, but also it’s not really surprising since they didn’t even exchange their numbers and Donna has not mentioned him again. At least there’s that. 

She frowns for a moment, “Cubbie? He barely knows me.”

Her friend rolls her eyes to the back and takes a pull at the bottle, “Dean, dummy!”

“Yeah, well, he has a hell of a way of showing it.” She grumbles, burying her face into her goblet and tips it back to take a big gulp. 

Donna admitted after the incident that she watched them with amusement. Poor Cubbie was standing there lost and sulked away on his own. Apparently, Dean grinned brightly, and god, just the image of him being so joyful and cocky about her misery makes her want to smack him across the face. But for that, she would have to see him again, which she won’t. Nope. Not going there. She can’t move on when he keeps popping up.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Donna tilts her head that’s resting on the back of the old faded sofa, cocking her eyebrow as she asks.

“See what?” Y/N eyebrows match her friend’s. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” Donna huffs out, followed by a giggle. Okay, the woman should definitely not drink any more beer, also since tomorrow is Monday and she has to work. Y/N for her part, is still struggling with finding a job that would keep her head above water. She’s debating on taking two lesser paid jobs but then again, there would be no time left to spend with Liv and since she’s making Liv her priority, she keeps on searching. The blonde lays her hand on Y/N’s thigh, squeezes it, “He’s so fucking in love.”

With knitted eyebrows, she glares at her friend. Dean? In love? Has that been obvious? She shakes her head, “That’s not what he told me,” 

Her friend sits up straight and turns to her before taking a big swig of her beer and slams it onto the coffee table. Y/N gets irritated, shushes her friend with a nudge of her elbow. Liv is sleeping next door, and Donna usually knows that she has to be fucking quiet. 

“Oops,” Donna says with a shrug, and they both freeze to listen if Liv has woken up because of the noise. When they don’t hear a sound, they both breathe out in relief. Yeah, there’s no chance Donna will get another beer from her tonight. The blonde grins at her. A grin that spells mischief, “Have you ever thought that Dean Winchester, a guy who’s never been in love might not know how it feels to be in love? Have you ever thought that he might be so fucking gone on you and tries to identify his feelings but he can’t because he doesn’t fucking knows what it is?” 

God, Donna talks a mile a minute and Y/N’s brain is having trouble catching on and processing. 

Her friend pauses to wriggle her eyebrows at her but otherwise, Donna doesn’t say anything because she waits until it settles. 

Memories of the last day on the beach flashed in her mind. She recalls him asking her how she knows when you love someone and her answer was you just know. 

Could it be that he was struggling then already? He probably was but she was too deep in her own mind that she didn’t really notice.

“No,” She answers.

“No, what?” Donna asks.

“No, I have never thought that he doesn’t know how it feels to be in love. But I mean, he’s loved his mother, right? He loves Sam to a certain extent. He’s a grown ass man. He should know how he fucking feels.”

“My god, your skull is thicker than I thought.” Donna rolls her eyes dramatically. “Loving a parent is not the same as loving a partner, duh! And with Sam. There’s the bro thing, I guess? They love each other but it’s just all caveman-esque grunting and a lot of back-slapping involved. It’s how I love you,”

“You love me while you grunt and slap my back?” 

“Shut up!” Donna laughs, “Anyway, where was I...oh! Yes. Listen, Y/N, maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. I mean, yeah, of course, you have Liv to care about but don’t tell me that Liv was heartbroken when you brought her back to this place.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. When she snaps out of it, she tips her wine glass back and empties it in one go.

Her friend watches her, pauses to let the things she said sink in. God, she doesn’t know why Donna’s only talking about Dean now. It’s been what? Almost two months. Where was Donna when she needed that kinda talk at the beginning when she left Dean? Donna was always here, her mind says, you just didn’t want to burden anyone and you thought that you could manage everything on your own. 

“Fact is, Y/N. I’ve never seen him like this. He barely goes out, even if he’s invited to events. The gossip sites avoid him because he became a grump while picking up fights with photographers, and don’t even get me started on the last TV appearance where he only gave short, snappish answers, making the stupidly hot interviewer very uncomfortable. A couple of months ago, he would have charmed the woman and they probably would have fucked when the producer yelled cut.”

“How do you know they didn’t?” She asks, and she doesn’t even know why she asks because the thought of him hooking up and going back to being his old self does make her feel a little uncomfortable and admittedly, jealous.

“Honestly? Maybe because the interviewer told a tabloid that she refuses to interview Dean again because he’s a dick.” 

“Well, he is a dick, she’s right.” She says drily, and she’s standing behind her opinion, it’s just now that Donna has said all those things that it makes her really wonder if she’s been too harsh to Dean. Maybe he just needed more time to figure out what he was feeling. But again, it’s too late now, isn’t it?

Ch. 27

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

The Perfect Ship

Request: Hey, I saw that you’re requests for Spn are open. Can you write a Dean Winchester x reader fic? R is a part of the team and on a mission she discovers that Spn is a book (like a cosplay or smth) and she sees  people shipping them and her reaction is the same as when Dean found out about Destiel. Maybe they end up together after that. I hope that wasn’t too much. Thank you Requested by anon.

A/N: I’m glad someone finally requested a Dean fic. I’m so in the mood for him right now. And don’t worry, that’s not too much information, in fact it’s great. I decided to do two parts, so in this part there’s only a part of the request at the end, but still enjoy!

O/h/c= opposite of your hair color.

Word Count: 1634.

“Come on tell me you got us a case, Sammy! It’s been a week and nada. This has been the longest and most boring week of my life. If I have to sit here for another minute and watch the state the bunker is in right now, I’m gonna die!” you whined.

Sam smiled before answering “I think I might have something”.

“What is it? Spill it out!” you quickly came to his side to check the case on his laptop.

“Three people have disappeared in the last two weeks near Jackson Square” Sam informed you.

“Are you kidding me? New Orleans? Really? It’s full of witchy Voodoo crap and haunted houses. There are probably some teenage kids playing some stupid game. There’s no case there” Dean took another sip of his beer.

“Shut up! We’re going, but if you want to stay here, it’s your choice. I’m not gonna rott with you. Let’s go, Sammy! Oh, and even if there’s no case, why would you miss visiting New Orleans. I mean come on” you took your leather jacket and headed outside to the Impala. Seconds after, Sam followed and then Dean.

“Backseat now!” Dean ordered as you sat in the driver’s seat.

“What happened to ‘there’s no case?”.

“I still don’t believe there’s a case but no one takes baby away from me, especially not you. So, backseat now!”.

“No! I was here first. Besides, I always ride in the backseat, I’m not going to this time. I’ve been rotting for a whole week in the bunker. I deserve this”.

“You deserve nothing of a sort. Now be a good girl and do what you’re told”.

“Excuse me?” you exited the car and crossed your arms ready to attack Dean after hearing his response.

“You heard-”.

“Oh my god! Stop being so dramatic. Both of you! Y/n, you can take my place. I’ll take the backseat but for heaven’s sake, shut.up!”.

---

“Where’s Y/n?” Dean asked after fueling the Impala and paying at the gas station.

“I don’t know. I thought she was with you”.

After searching for you for about five minutes, Dean gave up and waited for you in the car. It was hot and sticky and you’ve been away for 15 minutes. Finally you made your way back to the car with a grin on your face.

“Alright, let’s go” you instructed as soon as you entered the car.

“Oh, she lives! I thought some monster devoured you. What a shame!”.

You gave him a fake smile before looking down at your phone.

“What the hell took you so long?” he turned to face you.

“As you said, there was a monster. I had to fight for my life. I barely survived” you mocked.

“Very funny. Next time, I won’t be waiting”.

“We’ll see about that” you smirked.

---

“Pull over!” you commanded.

“What now?”.

“I’m hungry. I need food!”.

“We were at a gas station like an hour ago. Couldn’t you get something from there?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Gas station food and restaurant food are two different things, Dean. What is wrong with you? You love food?”.

“I just want to get there before I’m old and toothless”.

“Well, I got some bad news for you buddy. You’re already old and you’ve lost a couple of teeth, so like just give it a couple of years and you’ll have no teeth”.

“Can you both stop please?” Sam finally spoke.

“I haven’t done anything. She started it” Dean shifted the blame onto you.

“Says mr. perfect” you rolled your eyes.

“Both of you just shh. I don’t want to hear a word coming out of your mouths the whole way to New Orleans”.

“Bossy much?” you muttered.

“Yeah” Dean agreed with you.

At two or three a.m, Sam was sleeping uncomfortably in the backseat and you fell asleep on Dean’s shoulder. He was about to tell you to move, but when he saw how peacefully you slept he refrained from doing so and couldn’t help but smile. Four hours later, you woke up at the sound of loud 70s music.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart” Dean smirked.

“Fuck you, Winchester!”.

“I told him not to do it” Sam said.

“You were sleeping for so long. I had to do something and we both know you’re not the type that’d wake up if someone just nicely asked you to” he teased.

“What time is it? Are you out of you damn mind? It’s six in the morning and I’ve slept for like three or four hours and you call that so long? The average amount of sleep a normal human needs is like seven or eight hours and I’m not normal so I need more, you asshole!”.

“That’s your problem”.

“We’ll see in the future when I’m standing on your deathbed” you rested your head on the window and tried to get some more sleep, but of course Dean wouldn’t let you.

“Hey, what are you doing? We’re almost there. You can’t go back to sleep now! You already look like hell what are people gonna say when they see you if you sleep a bit more?”.

“Maybe that’s why I look like hell? Lack of sleep causes that. And I always look awesome so…”.

---

“Ok the guy said that the first victim was going to this party which happens to be tonight. We should head there” Sam informed you.

“Where is it?”.

“The abattoir. Bourbon street”.

“It’s like three minutes away, so I’ll meet you guys there later. I’m gonna go do some sightseeing and culture” you were eager to see the city.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you” Sam said.

“Oh no, no, no. You’re staying with me and someone has to do research and it ain’t gonna be me” Dean refused.

“First of all, Sam can decide for himself. He’s not a child anymore. Second of all, if there’s no case, then there’s no research” you reminded.

“But what if there was? Are you really going to let innocent people die just because I said there ain’t one. I didn't know you trusted me that much. I’m really honored. I appreciate that” he mocked.

“I think I’m gonna stay with Dean. we shouldn’t leave him alone, you know. He might get scared. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to come here in the first place” this time it was Sam’s turn to tease Dean.

“Yeah. I think you’re right… one more thing, you stink. So maybe take a shower before you go out and make all the people we’re gonna question run away”.

---

“Guys, somebody help me!” you entered the motel room that Dean and Sam were staying in.

Sam gave you a weird look before assisting you with all the bags that you’ve got.

“What’s all this?” Dean asked.

“Let’s just say things you wouldn’t like”.

“Ah, speaking of things that we wouldn’t like, this is the last available room here” Dean informed you “We have a double bed and a single bed”.

“Ok. Problem solved. I’ll take the single bed and you’ll share the double bed” you suggested.

“Ha ha, that’s not gonna happen” Dean laughed nervously.

“Do you have a better solution? I hope you’re not suggesting that Sam and I share the same bed, no offense, babe. Besides, you’re brothers so what’s the problem?”.

“That’s exactly what I suggested but I forgot that he’s a giant which he reminded me of, so… and no! It’s weird even if he wasn’t a giant”.

“Oh, no! You’re not suggesting that we-”.

“Yeah, that was my exact reaction” Dean added.

“Hell no! We can’t even sit five minutes together before starting a fight and now you want us to sleep next to each other?”.

“I don’t like it anymore that you do”.

“Right! So, sharing a bed with your brother is weird but sharing a bed with me is not?”.

“Well, it’s less weird. You’re a woman”.

“So are you saying that if Sam was girl, that wouldn’t have been weird?”.

“Ew, no!”.

“Fine, but if you end up on the floor, it’s not my fault. I warned you”.

“And if you end up without a blanket it’s not my fault. I warned you”.

“Are we going to the party or are you two just gonna stay here and fight until you actually fall asleep together from the exhaustion of arguing!” Sam left and both of you followed.

---

“Idjits!”.

“Am I hearing stuff or did someone just say-” you were interrupted by Dean.

“Idjits? Not again!” Dean sighed.

“Not again what?” you asked.

“Something related to supernatural” Sam added.

“Supernatural?” you were confused.

“It’s uhm- a series of books about our lives” Dean admitted.

“Pff, yeah right. Who’d write anything about your lousy lives. Even better who’d read such crap?” you laughed and when you saw Sam and Dean’s facial expressions, you knew it’s real “oh, you’re- you’re not joking”.

“Nope”.

“I mean it can’t be that bad. What do they know about you? Two brothers that hunt demons and monsters?”.

“Everything”.

“They can’t know everything. I mean how would this author know all about you”.

“I think you’re in the new books too” Sam believed.

“As if”.

“I love him, Sammy! What should I do? Do I tell him or do I keep it to myself. I don’t want to get hurt, because you know Dean is a womanizer and I’m not 100% sure that he loves me back” a girl with o/h/c came with a guy who was dressed like Sam.

“Listen Y/n. Life is too short and if you love him, you should tell him. Trust me on this” the guy spoke in a deep tone.

“What the hell is that?!” your mouth was left wide open from shock.

To Be Continued...

Tags: @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @berruneko09 @spnwinchestersd​​@simonsbluee​​ @capsheadquaters​​

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 15x08 “Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven”

THEY JUST. SENT DEAN AND CAS. TO PICK SYMBOLIC “BINDING” FLOWERS ???

--

06:16pm

probably gonna have to stop in 1 minute for dinner but let’s see what’s happening this week in Mr. Taco/Hotdog Pines For Angel But Isn’t Sure If God Commanded It

-

06:18

OH YEAH ADAM

forgot about him

-

06:19

hmm “lucky elephant” casino/bar

1. pink elephants  = drunk baby dumbo trippin balls

2. kinda looks like a dick

-

06:23

the hell is wrong with sam’s face?? he’s looked SO tense and uncomfortable these last episodes

-

06:24

sam eating salad and eileen eating a burger

given how much food symbolises in this show......i...... kinda wanna say that it means sam sees eileen as a sibling??????? given burgers are bro dean and cas’ thing

either that or she’s one of the family, but then what does it mean about sam’s salad being the odd one out?

....i typed samily there

ha

anyway i wonder if, given how eileen/sam parallels dean/cas, it’s gonna become a thing like “hey eileen i see you as a sibling” vs. dean and cas “cas i love you like a brother” / “BUT DEAN I LOVE YOU IN THE ROMANTIC WAY”

-

06:27

does dean not know what “achilles heel” means

-

06:28

why is there porn music playing as cas knocks on a door

is dean gonna be naked on the other side

are they playing babysitter and affronted neighbour housebreaker

.....just saying okay that comedy sting was weirdly placed

-

06:30

i love that cas is like straight-up Still Here

he was like I’M LEAVING FOREVER and then dean’s like “hey i know i said you ruin everything but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

wish we could’ve had that as an actual scene though

-

06:37

dean: but cas if u wanna stay here, why don’t you stay here

RUDE

-

FUCK I HATE THE KNIFE HAND THING

-

they almost........ touch hand.........

/14 blush emojis

cas uses last of power to make dean feel okie dokie

IS HE GONNA FALL FOR DEAN AGAIN

-

06:40

welp dinnertime back laterrr

_

07:50pm

watched the end of “the prince of egypt” and my father (an atheist) was very insistent on proving it factually incorrect while I JUST WANNA WATCH THE ANIMATED MOVIE DUDE

-

hokay where were we

oh yeah cas was trying really hard not to hold dean’s hand

-

07:54

team free will enter hell and are attacked by three lady demons

for some reason i’m thinking of cerberus, the three-headed dog who guards the gates of hell

-

07:55

OMG OMGO OmG OmG ROWENA

DID SHE BECOME QUEEN OF HELL

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YES

THIS IS THE CHARACTER ARC SHE NEEDED

-

THOSE BRAIDS

-

07:57

someday i wanna do makeup as well as rowena’s makeup magically manifests. that glitter eyeliner over the black wing is mmmmmmmmmmmm

-

08:00

ahh bless

a bechdel test pass

it’s been too long

*edit* BUT DID THIS EVEN COUNT??? IF SUE IS NOT SUE

-

queen of hell suits rowena better than any dress she’s ever worn

so we’ve got rowena as queen of hell, billie as death.... need one more lady in charge of heaven to complete a power trio OH YEAH AMARA. god yes give me that......... pun intended i guess

-

08:03

rowena after looking at dean and cas for 1 second: “what am i picking up from you two? tell auntie rowena”

ROWENA IS THE BEST I LOVE HER SO MUCH

-

two grumpy grumble butts: “it’s fine”

WOW

-

YOU HEARD THE QUEEN OF FUCKING HELL YOU TWO

FIX YOUR DAMN PROBLEMS THIS INSTANT

-

SAM WHAT TERRIBLE TIMING

jeez they really don’t wanna have that conversation in front of an audience

someday they better get NOT FUCKING INTERRUPTED

knock knock

who’s there

interrupting moose

-

08:09

adam’s facial expressions look so much like dean’s

-

08:11

for some reason i was just watching dean say “i didn’t wanna jinx it” and looking at his eyelashes and then involuntarily imagined him wearing rowena’s fake lashes

it was a good look

-

dean looks so, sooo pretty in this blue shirt

maybe blue for cas’ eyes

-

08:17

cas says to micheal “your father is certainly not who you knew” but not “our father” as in chuck is no longer his father

-

“you called me assbutt and set me on fire”

yeah pretty much iconic, no?

-

oohh jeez poor michael, poor adam

sent to hell, comes back and is aggressively greeted by the same assholes who sent him there

-

dean put a black armour jacket over his vulnerable blue one to talk to adam

-

08:32

dean sees cas sitting alone and gets himself a beer without offering one for cas

ohhhh that hurts

-

/takes screenshots of cas’ side profile

what a good profile

-

dean’s back in his blue vulnerability shirt

-

OHHHHHHHHHHHHH SEND DEAN AND CAS BACK TO PURGATORY TO FETCH A FLOWER OF SYMBOLIC “BINDING” YES

FIX THE STORY WITH THEIR LOVE

*edit* ............hey. heyheyheyhey does anyone remember those promo posters from season 8 of dean poking his head out around a tree in purgatory and there was a flower there?? and as far as i know we never actually saw the flower in canon and it was Weird? foRESHADOWING or ?????? hindshadowing?

-

no michael’s not coming on your gay flower road trip, dean

no third wheel this time thank u

TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS WITHOUT BEING INTERRUPTED PLEASE

-

michael is literally just....sending dean and cas to pick flowers together

-

08:41

it’s over

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS 10/10 THAT WAS GREAT 

I LOVE THE SETUP FOR WHERE THIS IS GOING

rowena as queen of hell 15/10 best thing that ever happened on this show

adam getting his apology and peaceing out yes good

SENDING DEAN AND CAS TO PICK FLOWERS IN FUCKING PURGATORY THE LAND OF THEIR YEAR OF PINING HELL YES

i love how self-referential this whole story has become and it’s so GOOD to have all these loose ends come back to hopefully be tied up one by one

i just....... i just checked the writer for this episode and i AM AMAZED it’s a deadly duo episode??????????????????????  H O W

bechdel test pass?? holy shit (well...... i doubt this now but still)

only woman who died was lilith and she was awful

unless you count sue but i don’t think sue was real to begin with

and there was a black guy.... with lines.... who didn’t die??? astonishing

also the pacing was like... good or whatever. at least i didn’t think it was patchy like their episodes usually are. and the script wasn’t bland and boring ?? what is happening here

PLUS ROWENA POINTING OUT THAT THERE’S soMethING GoiNg On between dean and cas which draws attention to it for later resolution, despite the audience already knowing they had a tiff

colour me impressed, anyway

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

All In Good Time

Summary: Tired of seeing his best friend wallowing in whiskey after another disappointment, he finally confesses a well-kept secret.

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo2019 & @spndeanbingo. Please excuse the poorly written smut, it’s been a while since venturing down that path and I was constantly distracted but things OTHER than the smut at hand. Oh well, hope you enjoy it!

Square filled for SPN Fluff Bingo: Best Friends to Lovers

Squared filled SPN Dean Bingo: FreeSpace

Warnings: Mild angst, Smut (18+ ONLY), Language

WC: 5.3K

Tags at the end of fic. Gifs not mine, credit to owners.

“Drinking that isn’t gonna make it stop, you know,” Dean said as he sat on the stool beside you.

“Stop what?” you asked without looking in his direction.

“Whatever you’re trying to forget.”

“You think you’re so damn smart, Winchester.” You did not need Dean’s brand of pep talk at the moment.

“Because I am,” he smirked. “As my best friend you should know how smart I am, and that I’m right about ninety-five percent of the time.” He finally turned to look at you and raised his brow teasingly. “If I remember correctly, last time you were throwing them back this hard, you’d been dumped by that chucklehead, Rocco. Can’t believe you dated a guy named Rocco…” he shook his head, disappointed in your past choices and drank his beer.

“Bite me,” you growled and threw back the rest of the whiskey in the glass.

You held it up for the bartender to refill and when he came to do so, Dean placed his hand over the top of the glass and slightly shook his head with a frown.  

“Dean, don’t be a dick—”

“She’s good,” he said to the bartender, who took one look at you and agreed that Dean was right.

“What the hell?! I wasn’t done,” you snapped at him, incredulous about his decision that you’d had enough to drink. “I’m not even that drunk!”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean slid the glass out of your reach, keeping his eyes locked with yours only infuriating you more.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a big girl, Dean. We aren’t fifteen anymore and you don’t need to protect me from myself or anyone else for that matter.”

WHO did he think he was, anyway? This night sucked. You got stood up for the second time by some guy you really thought could be the one. You thought he nearly perfect, and he seemed to accept your job and lifestyle as well as understood that you were a fiercely independent woman. Clearly, you’d been wrong and, so what, if you wanted to drink away the anger and hurt you felt for being duped, again.

“Me?” Dean mused, and sipped at his beer, “Oh, I’m just the guy who has been looking out for you for your whole damn life. The guy who knocked out Trent Moore when he tried to feel you up in the back of Bobby’s car. Also, the same guy who made sure that your shit-for-brains mother didn’t get you killed when she was drunk and went after a poltergeist.”

“Great, thanks for those reminders,” you moaned and turned on your stool to face the room and lean both elbows back on the bar. “Look, if you’re not gonna let me drink, lay off the trip down memory lane, okay? Not in the mood.”

“Deal.” Dean swallowed the rest of his beer and stood from the stool. “Come on then. W can shoot pool, or go watch a movie… whatever you want,” he reached out a hand to help you up, but you swatted him away.

“No! Just go, man. Let me wallow.”

“You know what… you’re a stubborn ass bitch. Fine, wallow! I’m so fucking tired of watching you do this. Oh, and next time you need a savior, sweetheart, call Sam, cause I’m done playing your white knight!”

Dean’s face was twisted in frustration, anger, and hurt, which left you confused. In all the years you had known him, he never got this mad at you before and you didn’t understand what made this time any different.

He reached into his pocket and slapped down cash on the bar, then turned and headed straight for the exit. You felt shocked and frozen in place, watching him storm through the bar and out the front door. Dean had been your best friend for most of your life, and sure there had been arguments; many, many arguments. But never had he straight up yelled at you before and it wasn’t sitting right to leave things with him like this.

You brushed your feelings of wallowing aside and found a purpose to move off the stool. The alcohol you’d already consumed made you feel lightheaded at the sudden movement, but your concern over Dean’s departure took precedence. No matter how you felt, you could not let him leave like that.

 You found him in the parking lot. He was pacing back and forth in front of the Impala; his fists clenching and unclenching in sync with his jaw. You watched for a moment, hesitant to approach him in his current state. That’s when he looked up and saw you standing there. Unsure of what to say, you just shrugged. Your mouth fell open to speak but no words would come out.

Dean’s brow was still buried in frustration that was directed straight at you. It wasn’t like him to be this angry, not over you wanting to drink away the thoughts of another disappointment. Normally he joined in, helped you to bounce back by cracking jokes and getting drunk alongside you.

“I can’t with you right now, okay?” he grunted from under his breath. “Just go back inside.”

“Dean… I’m sorry. Whatever I said…”

He snorted a laugh and bite his lip. “You’re sorry. For what? You don’t even realize what you’re sorry for, do you?”

“No, I don’t. But clearly, I did something to piss you off. I never want to fight with you, Dean. Not really fight, anyway. So, whatever it was—”

“Fine, you wanna know? Really?” his voice rose with each word, his anger come through with each decibel.

Seeing him this way, and having it directed at you was not something you’d experienced before. Afraid that the wrong thing would make him angrier, all you could do was nod. Dean drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was centering himself; he’d never admit that’s what he was doing, but it was. There was nothing you didn’t know about him. At least, you thought you knew everything about it.

“Since we were sixteen years old, any job we worked together, I watched you meet someone, hook up, and then get dumped. Each time, you ended up hurt, scared, or in a predicament that me or Sam had to rescue you from.”

His words stung and you wanted to be annoyed with him; but the truth was, Dean was right. There was nothing you could say that would help, so you remained silent and let him finish.

“For years, Y/N, years… We’ve worked together, killed some evil sons-of-bitches together… we’ve celebrated and mourned. We’ve drunk ourselves silly, and bandaged each other up, countless times...”

Dean paused, his entire body sighing as it released the built-up fury he had been holding onto. He unclenched his fists and took a few steps closer to where you stood.

“In all that time, I made some of the best memories of my life. Between you and Sam, you guys were my home. Everything good I can think of is wrapped up in you and my brother. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I am tired of seeing you get like that over yet another piece of shit asshole who can’t see how damn lucky he was that you even looked his way.”

You felt your stomach drop out, not because of what he said, but because of how he looked at you when he said it. Your mind flashed through a dozen scenarios where he had come to your rescue; with guys, monsters, your own mother and had even saved you from yourself a time or two. If it hadn’t been for Dean, you would have been dead years ago.

“I—I don’t know what to say other than, you’re right,” you said softly, the whiskey and culpability was still stinging in your throat. “I shouldn’t have depended on you for so long. I put you in these terrible situations, and—”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and brought his hand to his face, running it over his worn features. “You’re fucking clueless…”

“What now? I’m trying to apologize and tell you that you were right! What more do you want from me, Dean? What?!” You could feel your hands starting to shake, and a bubble of your rage starting to rise and your throat now on fire from the volume of your voice. “What the FUCK do you want from me, huh?!”

People passing by were starting to stare, so you closed the small bit of distance between you, ready to unload a little more without attracting a crowd. But when you got closer, Dean started to laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, breathing hard through your nose trying to simmer the boil of frustration.

“You. You look ridiculous when you get angry.” He was smiling now, not quite laughing, but the grin he wore was genuine and reserved for moments with people he trusted.

“You’re bipolar, Winchester,” you huffed, trying to contain your temperament.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I think its more that you just drive me insane sometimes.”

“Oh sure, blame ME for your particular brand of crazy! I don’t know what to do any more here, man. I can’t do anything right with you, lately.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Dean asked with a flare of insolence.

“The last three jobs we’ve worked? You barked at me for no reason. You’re short with me when I ask you to stop while on the road, you constantly ride me for shit that I have zero control over!”

“Then why do you stay, hm? Why not go off on your own? Hunt alone?”

“I’ve tried! You just keep finding me and taking me along to the next job! Friends don’t let friends hunt alone, remember?!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “I need a drink,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shouldn't have closed out the bar tab,” you muttered.

“You know what—” he lifted his head, the look of aggravation back on his face. “I’m—this is—fuck it! God, you frustrate the shit out of me!”

In a moment’s time, Dean had your face in his hands and his mouth on yours. Your first instinct was to retreat, then slap him across the face. Quickly following that, was the sudden desire to kiss him back. There had plenty of times you discreetly watched your best friend from the corner of your eye when he didn’t realize you were looking. How could you not? Dean was a gorgeous man, but more than that, he was sexy and funny. He was basically every girl’s fantasy. From his green eyes and freckles, right down to his bowlegs and boots. He was cocky and arrogant, smart as hell, and had a smile that could only be described as the devil’s handiwork. But never, in a million years, did you imagine he would have any interest in kissing you. In more than twenty years together, he never once tried nor looked at you like he wanted too; at least from what you could remember.

Dean’s lips were soft, yet he used them roughly against you. Every time you felt yourself pull back in the slightest, he continued to draw you in. You were fully immersed now, and when his mouth parted, you found yourself kissing him back just as greedily. His hand circled around to your neck and tangled up in your hair, entwining his fingers in the wispy strands and gripping them tightly. It caused a rush throughout your body; partially because of the whiskey still flowing through your veins, and partially because it just fucking felt so good.

You moaned softly into his mouth involuntarily and you felt his lips unfurl into a slight smirk. He slowly pulled away from your lips but left his hand concealed in your hair.

“Get in the car,” he growled. “Please.” It was only to try and sound like he was being polite, but there was nothing well-mannered about the way he was holding you in his gaze. That’s when he released you completely, and there was no hesitation in your decision to get into the front seat of the Impala and leave with him.

Dean followed suit and got behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and before he put his most prized possession in gear, he reached out with his right hand and gripped your thigh. Sliding you closer to him, he kissed you again, gentle and wanting, leaving his hand to rest on your leg and kneading his fingers into your flesh as if he were a cat.

Without a word, he pulled back, put the car in gear, and speed off down the road to the motel you all had been staying at.

 The motel door flew open with a bang. Dean pulled you into the room and slammed it shut so hard that it rebounded off the frame and opened again. You took a few more steps into the room he shared with Sam, though Sam was nowhere to be seen, and watched as Dean made sure the door was not only locked, but the chain was up.

You were almost afraid to speak. Dean had this look in his eyes that challenged you to say something, anything he could use to prove whatever point it was he was trying to make. But you didn’t give in. You were too nervous and excited about what was going to happen; realizing for the first time how much you had wanted it to.

He stalked you; his green eyes, now full of lust and want, were affixed to his prey. Dean moved slowly from the door to where you stood. As he crossed the room, he removed his jacket and threw it in the corner by the window. Next, his flannel came off and was tossed in the same direction. His eyes never wavering from you.

The ripple of his muscles on his arms was prominent now that his body was tense and anxious. The closer he got, the more your heart began to pound. How could you not have seen this in him before; all these years attached at the hip never once did you realize he would be looking at you the way he was then.

“I wasn’t gonna have this conversation with you in the parking lot of some dive bar,” he said, and despite the edge to his demeanor, his voice was gentle and calm. “I wasn’t gonna tell you, how many times I wanted to kill some guy who had his hands on you in some bar. Or a random joker on a case we were working, trying to get you meet them for drinks--”

“Dean…”

He ignored you. “I wasn’t going to tell you how many times I came so close to telling you that I wanted to be that guy and…” he trailed off, now directly in front of you, the arms you had just been admiring reaching out for you.

“And, what?” you managed to ask despite the lump in your throat.

Dean leaned in and kissed you again, slipping his arms around the lower part of your waist. When you felt him lift your feet off the ground, you let him and locked your arms around his neck. He took a few steps towards the bed and put you back on your feet at the foot of it.

“All those nights I watched you eyeing up any other guy but me… I was starting to resent you for it. Tonight, I finally realized that it’s my own damn fault.”

Your arms were still up around his neck, your lips a breath apart. “What do you mean?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, instead, he took your arms off his neck, and slipped your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor and kicking it out of the way.

“I got scared to tell you, that you were the one I wanted to take home every night. I should have told you. Instead, I kept quiet, would watch you go off with someone else and then I end up going home with some mediocre stand-in that never seemed to measure up to you.”

You didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t ever given you an indication he thought of you like that. Not that you had looked at the Winchesters as brothers, but there was a closeness that you felt to them; Dean especially. Anything physical felt like it would be crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. It was scary to think of life without Dean and Sam, and if you DID cross that line, it could go wrong and eventually cost you their place in your life? That couldn’t happen.

“Now you know why I wasn’t gonna let you wallow over some guy, not again. You can go if that’s what you want. Certainly not going to make you stay here, but I really want you too, Y/N. Stay tonight. Give this a chance.”

He was pleading with you now, nearly begging with the crease of his brow and the hope in his eyes. You couldn’t leave, you didn’t want too. He had been in front of you this entire time, and the only thing you wanted to forget was how many nights had been lost that you and he could have been together.

There weren’t any words that would convey what you wanted, so you took action instead. You locked in with his gaze and began to shed your layers of clothes until you stood before him in only your bra and underwear. His tongue ran nervously over his bottom lip at the sight of you while his eyes drank you in. Dean reached out and ran his fingers from your shoulder and down across your collarbone, then let them drift down your cleavage.

You took the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head, throwing it off to the side. From there, everything happened in what felt like seconds. Dean was kicking off his boots and pulling off his jeans. He had you down on the bed, laying his weight on top of you, running his hands across your flesh, and letting his mouth explore your neck. He pulled down your bra, exposing your breast to the warm air of the motel room. Dean brought his mouth to your nipple, running his tongue over it, making your entire body shiver.

His other hand ran down the length of your body, and pawed at the hem of your panties, yanking them down and finding the hood of your sex. Just the promise of his touch, caused his name to moan from your lips.

“Say it again,” he growled lowly, moving his mouth back up to your neck.

“Dean, please…”

His fingers slipped down and moved against your clit, the sensation of which was overwhelming. He moved slowly, toying with it, and with each pass against your most sensitive place, caused your back to arch up into him, and him to smile with satisfaction.

Dean moved further down, and let his fingers easily slid up into you, and the more you reacted to his touch, the more his erection grew against your leg. You dug your nails into his back, then ran them down to the boxers he still wore. Yanking them down, he looked down at you and smiled.

“Look who’s all impatient now,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Winchester,” you moaned as he thrust his fingers up into you with a bit more force making you gasp with both surprise and pleasure.

“In a minute, honey, in a minute… waited a long time for this…”

Before you could respond, Dean kissed you, hard. His tongue taking control and swirling with yours greedily. It was all too much for your overstimulated body, and you felt yourself ready to cum. Dean knew it too, he could feel the fluttering warmth of you around his hand, and it only made him insistent to continue.

You forced your head back, arching your chest up to him and cursed as he suddenly pulled his hand from you, before your release could come to fruition. He stood from the bed and let his boxers fall to the floor, before going into his jeans pocket, retrieving his wallet and pulling out the condom he kept there.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him curiously. “Look who’s mister responsibility,” you teased.

Dean shrugged but flashed that damn smirk. “Told you, been waiting for this for a long time. No way I was going to come unprepared.”

While he was taking care of the necessities, you moved further back on the bed after slipping off your bra and underwear. Dean finally climbed on the bed next to you; your heart pounding and your sex throbbing for more of him. You moved him so he was sitting against the headboard, and you straddled his lap, positioning yourself over him.

Dean’s gaze was greedy, but the animalistic lust he had earlier was gone; now he just watched you close, as if burning the memory of this night into his memory forever. As you sank down, letting his cock slide up into you, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as his head rolled back against the headboard and his fingertips dug into your hips. It took only a second for you to start rocking against him; moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. With each pass, his mouth fell open, and his breathing intensified.

“Jesus… Fuuuuck…” he growled when you ran your nail up his chest and clasped your fingers behind his neck.

You guided his head to your chest, where he took your breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at your nipple. The faster you moved, the hungrier he became. Your head rolled back, and your overstimulated clit was pulsating with each pass you made against him. Your mind was completely lost in the moment with him; nothing before him had ever felt this good, this right… this euphoric.

His hands were beginning to grip you harder, moving you faster while his eyes opened and locked with yours. You wanted to speak, encourage him to fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted, but you didn’t have to because he saw it on your face. Your climax was rising again, and when you finally came, he did too, moaning your name and burying his head between your breasts. You could feel him throbbing inside you, matching his release with yours. Then, sighing as both of your muscles relaxed and you melted into each other.

A thin sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, as you cradled him against you. No rush to move off him, nor did he want that either. Dean lifted his head and reached his lips up to yours, as his hands slid around your waist and down over your ass.

“Worth the wait?” you asked, nearly breathless but smiling down at him.

Dean chuckled and moved his one hand up to brush a patch of sweaty hair from your brow. “And then some.”

You kissed him gently, then moved off his lap, falling to the bed beside him with a sigh of satisfaction. Dean reluctantly got up from the bed and excused himself to the bathroom. He was only gone a minute and leaped back into the bed next to you, attacking your neck with his mouth. Though you were exhausted, your body was still reeling from being with him. Forget the physical sensation, but the emotional one was all your mind could focus on now.

Dean Winchester, he had been your best friend for more than twenty years. He was the one you sought out for advice, he was your hunting partner, your drinking buddy, your partner in crime and in shenanigans. Now, was he really going to be your lover, too? Could you see yourself being with him like that? Risking a lifetime of friendship for the possibility of falling in love?

You wanted to say something, but not ruin the moment either. Instead, you just let yourself go, and tried not to think about it. Dean had the covers pulled up over you now, and rolled you onto your back while trailing light kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay with all this?” he asked, his expression turning serious.

“If you’re asking if I regret it, no, I don’t. But what is all this, exactly?”

“Whatever we want it to be. There’s no rules here, Y/N. You know, besides my brother, you’re the most important person in the world to me. And, yeah… I’ve wanted you for a long ass time. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what?”

Dean considered for a moment and tried to choose his words carefully. “Being with me. Just me. If that’s not something you want—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted and sat up on one elbow. “I’m good right here with you, Dean. Doesn’t need to be defined. I realize now all those others were just a placeholder for you, too.”

“You really mean that?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Really.”

Dean settled back into the bed and drew you into the crook of his shoulder. You laid there wrapped in his arms, just breathing him in and relishing in this sudden turn life had taken when you heard the door start to open. The chain caught it and you pulled the covers up to your neck just as Sam’s face stuck through the crack in the door.

“Dean! Come on man, let me in,” he whined.

Dean looked to you and chuckled when he saw your expression. “You good?”

You nodded slightly and sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head. You barely had time to register that you and Dean just had mind-blowing sex and were now discussing being a thing, but you had to contend with Sam, too?

“One minute,” he called out, and Sam shut the door.

Dean grabbed his boxers and jeans, slipped them back on and went to let his little brother in.

“Sorry, I was uh… entertaining,” Dean smirked and raised his eyes brows in triumph as Sam walked into the room.

“Man, seriously? Can’t you get your own room for that?”

“Sorry little brother, these things can’t be helped.”

Sam looked around and saw the mess of clothes all over the floor, then noticed your breathing lump beneath the covers.

“Dean,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your company is still here.”

“She sure is.”

“Hi Sam,” you spoke up sheepishly through the blanket over your face. “How’s it going?”

“Y/N?!” he gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he whipped his head around to look at his brother, who nodded still wearing his victorious smile. “Jesus…” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Well, damn, its about damn time. Geez. I just don’t get why you guys couldn’t have went to her room?”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and uncovering your face. “What does that mean… about time?”

Sam’s face immediately blushed when he realized you were completely naked under the sheets. He turned his head and stuttered his response. “It’s—it—it’s just that… you and Dean, this has been coming for a while and—” he smacked himself in the head for his choice of words. “Dammit. You know what I mean. You know what, I’m gonna go… I can’t be here right now.”

“Take my room, Sam. Key is in my jacket pocket. And don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. I promise I’ll still let you ride shotgun.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then quickly turned to grab your coat from the floor and retrieved the key before he made a quick exit from the room. Dean was snickering at his brother as he slammed the door behind him and could be seen nearly sprinting away down the walkway towards your room.

“So, that just happened,” you groaned and fell back to the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sammy, he’ll take it all in stride.” Dean came back and laid down on top of the covers next to you. “Like he said, it’s been coming for a while.”

“In your mind, maybe,” you said quietly and cast your eyes away from his scrutiny. “I never thought you even considered me like this. You were always eyeing up some other girls, talking about this one or that one…” you shrugged, and sat up straight against the headboard.

“I was trying to make you jealous. Guess I was too much of a coward to just be upfront about it,” he paused and swallowed hard. “You were it, though. The one I always thought that would be there in the end.”

“Is that what this is? The end?”

“End of one thing, beginning of another,” he smiled and leaned over to leave a kiss on your shoulder. “Still friends though. That’s always gotta come first because no matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

You felt an odd sense of relief in knowing that this friendship cultivated over two decades would remain and come first. “I can handle that.”

“Good. Now. Can you handle getting your clothes back on? You see, this chick I’m sleeping with distracted me from the burgers on the menu at the bar and I’m starving. She was being a sloppy drunk, I had to get her home--”

You raised your fist like you were going to punch him and he rolled away from you. But your arm hooked around his waist in time to prevent him from getting off the bed. You forced him back to where he was and quickly straddled him again. That look of lust was already back in his eyes as you grabbed his wrists and pinned them back up against the headboard.

“I may have been drunk, but I can still pin your ass down.”

“Unfair advantage when you’re naked and I’m weak-willed.”

You dove down to his neck and left a rough, biting kiss there. “Still want that burger?”

He shook his head and a mischievous gleam glistened in Dean’s eyes. In one swift motion, he had you flipped on your back while he hovered over you and used part of his weight to hold you down. He trailed his mouth down your chest and across your abdomen and positioned himself between your legs. Still sensitive from your first encounter with him, the touch of his tongue against your clit caused a whole body shiver to course through you.

“Fuuck, warn a girl, would ya?” you mewed as your hands gripped each side of his head to try and control him as he lavished your sex with his tongue.

Dean wrapped his arms under your thighs and then pinned them open further, giving him as much access to you as he could get. Your hips moved with him, your moans louder and louder with each pass of his teeth and tongue. This time when you finally came, he refused to let go, drinking you in until your body went limp with exhaustion.

You watched him through the hazy afterglow, sit up and wipe his face clean with the sheet, leaving behind only that triumphant grin.

“Now, I’m ready for that burger,” he winked. “Wanna grab a shower with me real quick? Go find some grub?”

Still, in a daze from everything, you were able to give him a smile and nod, because words just wouldn’t come. Dean helped you up off the bed but held into your hand for a moment.

“Still feel good with all this?” he asked, his features softer than normal.

“Yeah, Dean. More than good. Best I’ve felt in forever, actually.”

“Alright then. Shower, burgers, bed,” he said, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom. Though you playfully smacked at his back to put you down, you never wanted him to let you go. You never wanted to spend another night without him.

Everything tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby // @thefaithfulwriter // @sister-winchesters99

Supernatural tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovainfangirl // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @waywardgypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme 

[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets: Chapter Five

Pretty Thoughts

Summary: After interrogating a demon for weeks on end, she gives you the information you‘ve been hunting for. Enlisting help from Garth brings trouble in the form of Dean Winchester. 

A/N: again, sorry about formatting, I’m on mobile. Also, happy halloweeeeeen🎃:)

Warnings: SPN style demon torture (lol), obscenities, slight angst (argument between reader x dean), Dean in slight pain

W/C: 2.7k

Masterlist/schedule

Previous Chapter

"Just give me their names you disgusting rat," you shout through clenched teeth at the thin, black hair and black eyed demon you have strapped to a rusted chair. Dumping holy water onto the demons face you smile as it screams out in agony. With clammy hands you lean in, your face just inches away from it's blood drenched cheek. "You're going to die no mater what, so give me what I need and I'll put you out of your misery."

The demon stays silent, looking at you with it's now chestnut eyes with russet rims. It's long lashes bat once at you. "Mandy," you say gingerly while pushing yourself up to stretch out your back.

Taking a glimpse at the devils trap you've carved into the floorboards of a room you and Rufus had added onto the cabin, it wretchedly begs, "it's been weeks."

"Pretty neat, huh?" You mendaciously chuckle while toying with the dagger. "I've expanded on the normal version. Thought I'd had a trick of my own. You're dying, slowly and never to return again that's to some spells I've learned along the way."

"How cute. A hunter dabbling in magic. Does daddy know that you're no better than those you're in search of?" She puts on a false pout before breaking into laughter, "oh, wait."

Your eyebrows erect to reveal your arrogant eyes and temperate smirk. "Names. Now."

The demon stays silent, continuing to look around for a way out. Fed up with its evasiveness you grab a syringe filled with holy water and finished off with a spell to elongate the effects, to quickly inject the demon before it can scream out. After giving a second dose, you throw the empty syringe back onto the tray.

"Guess I'll see you in a few days, then." You laugh, "if you're still alive that is. See, I do need this information, but if you die before I can get it, well, that just means I have to kill more of your kind. And that's a win win for me."

You stealthily turn to walk towards the wooden block of a door that leads to the cabin. As you approach the first step, the demon lets out a thundering, frustration driven growl. Twisting around to face the demon, you smile, "yes?"

"Allanah Sandburn, Rose Coach, Taylor something and Violet Yasmin."

"Who else?" you demand while striding over and paralleling you're torso to the demons, pulling your dagger to her cheek.

"Guess you're gonna have to get another 'rat' to tell you that one," it shrieks, spitting at you. "That's all I know."

"Good one," you say, wiping the saliva from your cheek with the back of your hand and letting out a small chuckle. "I guess you're right."

Thrusting the blade into the left center of the demons chest it lets out one last ear piercing shrill, throwing its head back in torment. The body twitches and convulses and the last bit of essence vanished from the vessel in a luminous flash of vivid energy.

After showering the dagger in holy water you use your handkerchief to wipe it dry before dialing a number into your cell. "Hi, Garth." You pause and smile, "yeah, grab a piece of paper, would ya?"

You rotate around and stride over to the demon. "Can you do me a solid and have a look-see at a few names?"

—

A nauseating stench vents into the smokey air as you glare into the pit and gawk at the burning carcass. You reach into your pocket and put the singing phone to your ear, "what's the word?"

"Why are you asking Garth to track down a coven?"

"Grumpy? What are you doing with Garths cell?"

"What? I'm no- didn't you see the number before you answered?"

"Luckily for you, I didn't. Slick move leaving your card behind, I thought I had your number blocked."

"Yeah, well," Dean clears his throat. "Sam says I may have been a little too tough on you."

"Tough?" You called me a fucking monster, asshole, your thoughts scream.

"Now, I know I called you a monster and hey," he chuckles, "I've been there. Like you said, a lot of hunters have a bounty on my head."

"And?" Do you expect me to fucking care? You think as you sit on the cement steps in front of the porch.

"And I'm not expecting you to care or anything, but, uh, I thought 'what the hell, let's give her a shot'. What do you say?"

"Give me a shot?" Better make sure that's an iron bullet, you cynically joke.

"No, look, I'm not fixin' to shoot you," he says quickly and then more smoothly, "I'm saying I want a second chance."

"Yeah well you can take that and-"

"Shove it where the sun don't shine? Tried that. It can right on back."

You can hear a playful grin that he's attempting to suppress, and roll your eyes at the image. "I have gone a very long time with just myself, I think I can handle-"

"You're not doing it on your own. Covens typically meet in groups of-"

"Thirteen. I'm aware. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Says the girl who doesn't even know when she was born," he scowls.

You laugh, "aw, would you look at that, it didn't even take more than five minutes for your true colors to shine back through."

"Okay, smarty pants, I'm looking at this from a logical point of view. Thirteen against one are not great odds. You want to get yourself killed? Be my first. But if you want help, do nothing until we get back. What do you say?"

"That's assuming that I'm not already being logical about this." You pause, "tell me what Garth found out and I light agree to that."

He sighs, "the main one you're looking for Allanah. I guess she was last seen somewhere near Kansas City, but seriously... don't go poking around until me and Sam get back to the cabin. Just stay where you are. Do you hear me?"

You switch the phone to your alternate ear, standing up from the steps. "You are not in charge of me, Dean! We met purely coincidentally, you threatened me and I went off on my own remember? I didn't even want to hear from you again!" What does he care anyway?

"Whatever. I don't care. Just don't drag Garth into it."

"Oh," you scoff. "So that's a perfectly acceptable thing for Dean Winchester, but I can't?" Asshole.

"What did you just say?"

Louder this time, you repeat yourself, "I'm saying you don't own him. You can't just keep bossing people aro-"

"No, something about an ass."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I could have sworn you called me an asshole."

Immediately you end the call and hold the phone against your chest. "How in the hell could he have heard that?" You say aloud, too scared to say anything mentally.

Walking inside to grab yourself a much needed beer you try to drown out the idea of Dean Winchester heading your every thought. You're trying to keep them concealed and nothing too personal, but after a lifetime of privacy as far as thoughts go, it's not as easy as you hope. Opening the beer, your phone rings again.

"Leave me alone," you growl.

"Oh," Tim says, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were upset with me."

You put your palm to your forehead, "I'm not, Tim. I'm sorry. I was just on the phone with someone else, and... what's up?"

"Well, there's this guy missing from my town. The police don't seem to be doing much, but I really gotta know if he's okay, you know?" He sniffles, "I figured since you're part of the FBI or CSI or secret service or something you could look into it?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tim," you sigh. "It doesn't really... work that way."

"Please? It would really mean a lot to me."

"Just... just text me the location."

By the time you arrive, the neighborhood is dark. No street or porch lights are on. Most of the houses are guarded up with rusted chains on the windows and skirted with tall metal fences. You grab your pistol from the glove box and double check the clip. With the dagger still in your boot, you sneak out while checking for wandering eyes. The sidewalk that interrupts a dandelion garden leads to a golden brown door. Checking over your shoulder once more, you pick the lock and creep inside.

What you presume used to be a coffee table is wearing the couch and underneath the two is a torn up rug. Shards of splintered wood litter the floor where the dining table had collapsed. A thick coating of muddy red blood is splattered over the previously cotton white walls and wooden floor. You aren't sure whether it came from one person or more, but it is enough to leave a man dead. The only room unscathed is the office, which seems to remain orderly if it weren't for the papers scattered around.

Whoever is doing this was looking for something.

After bowing to your knees, you rummage through the cluster trying to find a clue. You check the mahogany dressers of his desk, and find nothing to suggest he had a life outside of work. You open the screen of his laptop and smile when it pulls everything up with no need to enter a password. Finding nothing but excel worksheets and business projects, you focus your attention to the matching bookshelf to see much of the sale.

Nothing seems to be helpful until you notice that one is remarkably shallow compared to the other. Quickly and quietly, you pull everything out and using the heel of your gun you give the makeshift bottom a rough tap. After a few attempts it opens just enough to reach inside. The tips of your fingers are instantly cold to the touch of a large skeleton key. 

"I believe that belongs to me, sweetheart."

Drawing your weapon you whip around and lime the barrel between the mans eyes.

"Ah, the ol' gun to the head trick," he laughs with his arks in the air. "Go ahead, love, wouldn't work on me anyway." He drops his arms as you bend to reach the dagger, keeping him in sight. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I know what you're going for, darling, and I'd strongly advice against it."

"Who are you?" Dean help! You scream in your mind, putting as much strength and emphasis onto the name as you can, hoping that he can hear you.

"Trying to cut out the foreplay I see," he snarls while walking to your side. "Very well, then. The names Crowley," he says proudly, chin held high.

Bursting through the door of the cabin, the Winchester's lug in their bags and plop them into the floor. Sam shuffled through one of the books shelves while Dean is staring out of a, foolishly open, window. He steps back and forth along the floor before throwing his arms out and halts his pacing, “we have four missing people, and never seen or heard of before weather patterns."

Sam lets out an exasperated sigh, "are we sure they're even connected?" He pulls a book from the case and settles in at the table to flip through it. He scans the room, twisting his body in both directions, "said a minute. Wasn't Blue supposed to be here?"

"I couldn't give a -" in completion of a sentence, Dean screams obscenities as he drops to the floor boards, holding his head in his hands.

"Woah, what's going on?" Sam scrambles to his side, dropping to the floor with him.

"I don't-" Dean belts out another cry of pain, "I don't know. I can hear her though."

"Who?" Sam pulls his brother up by the shirt and sits him upright. "Who do you hear?"

Dean clasps at his chest, looking up at Sam with wide eyes, "Blue. She's in trouble."

"I'm only here for one thing." He puts his lips next to your ear, and a hand in your hair. "And I'd hate to break those lovely little fingers of yours to get it, but you see, I'd do anything to get what I want." After rolling his fingers down your sleeve he removed his hand to point at the key, "and what I want is that."

"Did you kill him? What's so special about this key anyway?"

He chuckles, taking a short breath and turning his back to you. "You're such a naive, little, what? Hunger, are you? You really think I would waste my precious time on this fool?" He side eyes you while walking over to the bookshelf. "The key," he says, pouring some bourbon into a glass, "is really for me to know and for you," he paused with a grin and takes it down in one gulp, "to never find out."

"Wow," you scoff. Dean! Dean! Dean! Grumpy! Dean!

His eyes squint before trailing up and down your figure. When they meet back up with yours they are curious, and intrigued, "what's your name, love?"

"I'm not about to play share and tell with a demon," you scowl.

"King of Hell," he says through his teeth. "I could snap your neck with a snap of my fingers," he smiles and holds his hand up, "humor me."

"But I've piqued you're interest, haven't I? You could have done that from the start, but you didn't." You mirror the expression on his face as he pours himself another glass without removing his eyes from yours. "Which means you need me alive, don't you? Why?"

"Because we made a deal," a woman's voice fills the room before she can be seen. Grumpy, please! She slowly walks to Crowleys side, glancing at him once before resting an arm on his shoulder. She smiles at you, "hi, Y/N. It's been so long since I've seen you. So for the sake of meeting in, oh I don't know, twenty or so years, I'm Allanah."

She makes her way over to you, wrapping her arms sound your back and grabbing the key. She hands it to Crowley, who disappears instantly.

Allanah laughs, "the part he doesn't know is that without you, that key is nothing more than a paper weight."

Dean drops his hands to his knees and struggled to get his words out through chunky breaths, "have you seen a woman?"

"I run a bar, kid. You're gonna have to be a lot more specific than that," the man scoffs.

"I got this," Sam whispers and turns to face the bald and bearded man behind the counter. Clearing his throat, he asserts, "I'm agent Scott and uh, my partner here is Agent Paxton." Dean sits at the bar, using it as a pillow and only raises a hand in acknowledgment.

Sliding a picture onto the counter, Sam continues, "her name is Blue. Have you seen her come by in the last month or so?"

The man only shakes his head, Sam puts a palm down on the counter. "She may have had a, uh, fling with one of your employees."

The man laughs, "if you think that narrows it down, you'd be mistaken."

"I believe his name was Tim."

"That sounds about right. That Tim sure did have a way with the ladies," she shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Did?"

"Yeah, he quit comin' round about two weeks ago. No calls, nothing. Was a shame, too. It's difficult to find people who work in this damn town."

Dean... please, I'm begging you. Please.

"Shut up!" Dean yells, pounding the counter with his fist and capturing the attention of the people in the bar. When he noticed all eyes are on him, he adjusts his tie and gives a tired chuckle, "bad dream," he jokes with a half nod and light wave before dropping his upper portion back onto the counter.

Sam pulls a card from his suit and places it onto the bar, "if you hear anything." He lifts his eyebrows while tilting his head slightly and adds force to his words, "from either of them, give me a call."

Next Chapter

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[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Finally

Title: Finally

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2627

Square Filled: Mutual Pining

Summary: After what was supposed to be a one-night stand, Y/N and Dean get to know each other and eventually become friends, but as their friendship grew, so did their feelings however, neither of them knew how the other felt.

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating, Mentions of dick boyfriends, Fluff, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex (always be safe), Consumption of alcohol, and some adult language.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

A/N: When mindless writing actually turns into a whole fan fiction! And it just so happened to fit in well with SPN Dean Bingo! What a coincidence! Hope you guys enjoy the smutty goodness. Written in third person… why? I don’t know. It just kind of happened. Happy Reading!

He was a little bit vulnerable, and she was a little bit drunk, but at the end of the night, after they’d gone a few rounds between her bedsheets, what ended up not being a mistake was the fact that, after all of the sexual tension was exercised out of their system, they somehow became really good friends.

Y/N had become his rock, and Dean was the one thing keeping her above water.

The night they met at the bar, Dean caught his girlfriend, of four years, cheating on him with her boss from the advertising company she worked for. They were in his apartment and in his bed. After giving the guy a near death experience that would haunt him forever, Dean kicked Anna to the curb, literally tossing all of her belongings out onto the street like the piece of trash she has proven herself to be.

What brought Y/N to the exact same bar that fated night was her boyfriend of one year. He broke up with her, but not before giving her the worst excuse of a life time… “Sorry babe, we just don’t have a lot of sex anymore. I need someone who can cater to my needs.” She had never been so insulted, hurt, and felt so insecure in all of her lifetime, hence her overconsumption of a dearest friend – Tequila.

After some drunken and emotionally needy sex at her apartment, the two of them stayed in bed, pouring their sad story to one another, just getting things off their chest in the comfort of each other’s company. It was the one thing they needed the most. Not just the comfort of someone to listen, but a companion that they could count on to understand and not judge them. They needed someone on the same wavelength, and that was exactly what they got. They got each other.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, and they had become inseparable, but despite their drunk escapades in the beginning of their relationship, it settled in something strictly platonic. They were just friends.

“Dean! Seriously? Get your own!” Y/N grumbled, trying to push him away as he tried to reach over to take another bite of her slice of pizza.

“No, I want that one in your hand,” he whined, obviously deliberately trying to mess with her. She hated when people tried to eat her food when there were more than enough to share.

“Dean!”  She chides.

“Y/N! You love me don’t you?” He asked, pouting, flashing those deep emerald orbs that suckered her in every… single… damn… time.

Y/N froze, staring at her best friend and his stupidly annoying and irresistible green eyes. Dean had no idea how she felt about him. She loved him, there was no doubt about that, but she was in love with him. She had never loved someone so much as she did him, and it scared her. She didn’t want to ruin what they had, but she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to bare the idea that one day he might fall in love and leave her behind.

“I hate you,” she mumbled, offering her slice to him. Dean grinned in triumph, leaning in to take another bite, but instead, Y/N jammed the entire slice into his mouth, almost choking him.

As Dean coughed, managing to keep all the food in his mouth, she laughed full body, her back crashing onto the back cushion of the couch. She was loud and obnoxious, as if she couldn’t contain herself. When Dean finally was able to compose himself, he glared at her, watching how the tears ran down her cheeks from laughter. Just seeing her that way, lost in amusement, he couldn’t help but admire her. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever met… inside and out. Hearing her call his name was enough to awaken the butterflies in his stomach. What he wouldn’t do to be able to call her his and to have her call him hers. He had it bad. Really bad for her.

“You’re a dick, you know that right?” He huffed, a soft chuckling falling from his lips.

“What can I say, I learned from the best,” she replied, wiping her eyes.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off her even if he wanted to. He noticed a stray tear sitting on her cheekbone and he reached over, swiping it away with is thumb. “Missed one,” he said, the words coming out soft and winded.

“Thanks,” she smiled, pushing down the whirlwind taking place in her tummy. The things he did to her was alarming in the sense that… she had no idea how long she could control herself until she just snapped and jumped his bones… and other things.

Dean didn’t relent, the proximity they were in was enough for him to smell her sweet scent. What amazed him was that she didn’t wear perfume or body spray. She naturally smelled really good. All the times they’ve cuddled on the couch or bed, one of his favorite things was her scent. How it stuck to his shirt, how it mesmerized him. It was his favorite scent, even more than the smell of freshly baked pie, which was saying a lot.

She was staring into his eyes, deep and expressive, and she feared he’d know what she was thinking about, and when his eyes dipped down to her lips, she figured he did, but in reality, he didn’t. He was lost in his own emotions, getting caught up in his feelings and his desperation to feel her lips on his. He’s wasn’t sure when it happened, but he fell in love with her.

Their first meeting felt like so long ago, and he can barely remember what her lips tasted like, let alone what they felt like, and all he wanted to do was refresh his memory. He wanted to remember everything. He wanted to feel his rough hands on her soft skin, feel her under and over him, feel her take all of him like she’s done that first night.

“Shit,” he hissed out of nowhere, unbeknownst to the fact he’d said that out loud.

“What?” she asked, sucking her bottom lips into her mouth before trapping it between her teeth. She was just as captivated as he was, soaking up how attractive he was. It was practically illegal to look the way that he did. Even in a tattered shirt and sweatpants with his hair angling in all sorts of ways, to her he looked like a dream come true, and he was true. He was real. She could talk to him, touch him, feel all the things he does to her without even trying or knowing. The only thing she couldn’t do was wrap herself all over him.

“What?” He responded back… unaware of what she was talking about.

“What’s wrong?” she breathed, her eyes flipping upwards to avoid his invitingly pink lips.

“I’m gonna go for it,” Dean said his thoughts aloud again.

“For wh—” She didn’t even have time to finish her question before Dean crashed his lips to hers, relishing in the feel of how soft they were. He doesn’t remember it feeling this good.

His tongue forced it’s way passed her lips however, there wasn’t much resistance to begin with. She let him take whatever he wanted, thoroughly enjoying the way he enveloped her, taking control.

When air started to become an issue, she pushed him away softly, their lips parting with a soft smacking sound. The world felt like it was spinning. “Air…” she breathed, as if she needed to let him know why she had to stop. If oxygen wasn’t a necessity, she would never have stopped.

Dean didn’t bother to listen, his lips not missing a beat to move over to the sensitive skin on your throat, nipping and leaving little marks that he’d hope would remind her of him, but jokes on him… everything reminded her of him. He was all she thought about, dreamt about, talked about. Some might say she was obsessed, and maybe they were right.

She hummed in approval, enjoying the feel of him leaving his marks. “So perfect,” Dean muttered against her skin. “So damn beautiful. I want to make you mine.”

His confession caught her off guard. She thought that this was jut one of those spur of the moment things, that she was just there and things sort of just… happened, but his confession…

“Do you mean that?” She asked, pushing him away once again, his eyes locking on hers.

“Do I ever lie?” He responded back with a question of his own.

“No.”

“Then what’s your answer?”

Her voice got caught in her throat, unable to believe that the person she loved the most was really asking her to be his. It was a dream she never thought could ever be possible, yet here they were… Dean waiting for her answer.

“I’ve always been yours,” she finally confessed.

Dean started into her eyes for a hot minute, before finally taking what was now rightfully his. His lips back on hers, box of pizza forgotten, movie fading into background noise, and his body pressing hers down against the couch. He was going to make up for lost times.

He started his journey downwards, his lips running down her chin, throat, and then to her stomach as he lifted her shirt over her head. He groaned in approval to her lack of a bra, he wondered if she was uncovered under her own sweatpants.

“So perfect,” he complimented, propping himself up with his forearms, letting his gorgeous green orbs trail over her exposed chest. His lips fell over her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and teasing it until it was painfully hard. He switched over to the other, giving it the same treatment while one of his hands disappeared under her pants. “Fuck,” he mumbled against her hard nipple, not wanting to part from the bud. She wasn’t wearing any panties either.

“Please,” she begged. “Need you to touch me.”

Releasing her nipple with an obscene pop, he stared down at her, taking in how wrecked she look, and he’s only done less than the bare minimum. Her chest was rising and falling dramatically, her eyes were dark with need, and her skin flushed.

Without anymore hesitation, he glided his hand over her sex, his fingers teasing her opening before resting on her bundle of nerves, massaging it in slow circular motions. He watched her watch him, loving the way her lips parted and how her eyebrows angled, accenting the need and desperation in her eyes as they willed to remain open.

“I got you,” he assured, reconnecting their lips before pulling back, wanting to watch her over expressive face as he…

He slid two fingers inside of where she wanted him most, her slick easing the two appendages knuckles deep. The sounds she made accompanying the way her face contorted made Dean incredibly hard. His ever growing cock tenting in his sweatpants.

“God, Dean! I need more. Please. Want you to fill me up,” she begged.

Dean couldn’t resist her even if he wanted to. It had been too long since he’s heard her beg for him like that. He wasn’t used to it. He felt the need to give her everything and whatever she wanted… needed.

“I know, I’ve got you. I got you Sweetheart, just be patient. I’m just getting you ready.”

“I’m ready,” she cried, needing him to fuck her into oblivion.

After a little extra work, Dean finally deemed that she was ready. She was worked up and had been pleading him for his cock, but he took his time, wanting to make her feel good, wanting to memorize her body. And when the both of them were completely bare, he sunk into her, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while Y/N’s eyes shut tight, her back arching in utter bliss. She had been waiting for this for far too long.

Dean went slow, not needing to rush. He pulled out nearly all the way, before pushing back in until his hips were flush against hers. She was a writhing mess under him, desperately thrusting her hips to match his. Dean placed his hands on her hips, positioning himself on his haunches and hauling her thighs over his, so that her ass was off the couch. His hands slid around her waist, holding her still as he watched the way he tight little pussy devoured his thick shaft, taking him in all the way so well… hungrily.

He had to hold himself back. The sight of her mixed with the sounds of her pleasure were driving him to brink of insanity. His plan was to make love to her, to take his time to reacquaint himself with her body, he wanted this to last as long as he could, but it was starting to become damn near impossible.

“Patience, Y/N. Patience. I want to take my time with you,” Dean grunted, trying to regain any semblance of control he had left.

“B-but I need you,” she replied, completely strung out. “Need you so bad, please. Fuck me harder.”

Dean let out a guttural growl. She did things to him that he never thought was possible. It was like she could pull out the most primal parts of him. “Fuck,” he hissed, feeling her clench around him. She was doing it on purpose, wanting to tip him off the edge. Wanting him to lose all control. “Y/N...” Dean warned.

“Need it—”

Her clenching didn’t relent, and Dean had had enough. Unable to stand his slow place, he pulled out and slammed into her in one fluid motion, not bothering to pull back just yet. He just pressed inside her, the head of his cock kissing her cervix. She screamed, her body shuddering at the rough fullness she was feeling.

“Dean!”

“This is what you wanted right?” He grunted, pulling out until his tip was pressed against her pussy lips then surging forwards once again. Each thrust was powerful, his tip meeting her cervix with each plunge, and making sure his pelvis rubbed against her throbbing clit. She swore she saw stars, or maybe the pleasure was too much that she was borderline about to black out. Either way, she welcomed it with open arms... or rather, open legs.

“Please, please, please!” She chanted. “Please don’t stop! So fucking close!”

Her screams were high pitched, back arched so dramatically that it might break. Dean held her still, both hands practically wrapping themselves fully around her waist in an iron grip, her skin bulging between his finger, no doubt leaving bruises.

Neither Dean or Y/N could prepare for what came next. Y/N shouted bloody murder as the best orgasm she’s ever had ripped through her, her juices splashing between her and Dean’s hips. “Shit!” Dean howled, watching the way her body was reacting to him. A few hard thrusts later, he was falling with her, thick ropes of his seed coating her walls.

Once he was completely spent, his body went lax, falling over her still trembling figure. She didn’t mind the weight, in fact she relished in his warmth, loving the feel of his chest heaving against hers, and his hasty breath fanning against her neck. This was where they both wanted to be; wrapped up in each other’s arms, tangled in each others bodies.

“Finally,” Dean managed to speak out, the wide grin on his lips buried in the crook of her neck.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling, her own smile etched across her face. “Finally.”

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