#mary winchester x reader

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

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@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Auntie Row

Rowena & Winchester little sister!reader, team free will & Winchester!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Rowena has a soft spot for the Winchester’s little sister, and they get into lots of trouble together (I suck at synopsis, just read the fic it’s better)

Warnings: honestly nothing, time frame makes no sense with reader’s age but 🤷‍♀️

“Rowena, what do you think you’re doing?”

The witch looked up in surprise when the Winchester brothers entered.

“Sammy!” You, the brothers’ six-year-old sister, ran straight to your big brother and giggled when he lifted you into his arms.

“Oh, you’re back,” Rowena said, cringing. “That was quick.”

“Auntie Row is teaching me how to do magic, like Hermione!” You babbled excitedly.

“Rowena…” Dean growled in warning.

“Now now, she’s a growing girl!” Rowena defended herself. “Learning magic is a perfectly natural part of growing up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Sam scoffed.

“But Sammy!” You whined.

“Nu-uh,” Sam shook his head. “C’mon, it’s about time you had a nap.” He carried you out without another word to Rowena, who huffed dramatically and started to gather her belongings.

“When we said you could watch Y/N—“ Dean began, but Rowena cut him off.

“I know you didn’t mean this, but honestly Dean Winchester, how d’you expect the girl to defend herself if she can’t use magic?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Dean insisted. “We’ll protect her.”

“Oh honestly, you can’t be around her all the time! If she had magic, she could—“

“For the last time Rowena; no.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Uh, guys.” Sam returned to the room with a slight frown on his face. “Y/N said she wants Rowena to continue her story from last night. She’s refusing to sleep without it.”

“Well,” Rowena smirked. “Duty calls.”

“Hey.” Dean caught Rowena by the arm, and she glared at him. “Magic always comes with a price. I don’t want her to have to pay it.”

Rowena softened.

“I understand, Dean Winchester.”

His grip slackened, and Rowena left to go to you.

…

“I have a little something for you,” Rowena said as she stepped into your room.

“Can we finish the story?” You asked.

“Of course, sweet girl, of course. But first, I want to show you something. You remember that cursed necklace from the story? The one that protected the witch from the angry mob?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded excitedly.

“Well, I think it’s time it protected someone else.” Rowena grinned, unclasping the necklace that was hidden behind her shirt and carefully putting it on you.

“Really?” Your eyes went wide as you stared up at the witch.

“Yes. That will protect you from anyone who wants to harm you. That way you don’t have to use any magic, just like your brothers said.”

“Thank you, Auntie Row,” you breathed sincerely, reverence painting your tone as you admired the glowing red jewel.

Rowena leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“You’re very welcome, sweet thing. Now, let’s finish that story, shall we?”

…

“Kiddo, please, it’s just for a few days,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you still wouldn’t let go of his leg and continued to cry. “Mary’s gonna take good care of you, I promise.”

“I could really help you guys on this one,” Mary argued.

“She needs someone to watch her,” Dean reasoned.

“And why am I the automatic choice?” Mary countered.

“You two are not helping,” Sam said through gritted teeth as he picked you up, letting you lay your head on his shoulder. He hated Mary’s distance from you; you were John’s, but not hers. He understood her reason for not getting close to you, but you were just a little kid, and you didn’t deserve that. Sam just rubbed your back, still trying to soothe you as you continued to sniffle.

“If you boys needed help, you could’ve just asked.”

The three adults turned in surprise at the sound of Rowena’s voice.

“I mean honestly, it’s not like I haven’t babysat before.”

Dean was hesitant. “I don’t know if—“

“Sounds like a plan,” Mary said, going to grab her duffel. She tossed over her shoulder, “now I can help on the hunt!”

“Am I gonna stay with Auntie Row?” You asked Sam, your eyes wide and pleading.

“I…yeah honey, you are,” Sam sighed.

“Yay!” You grinned, wiping your tears away and squirming in Sam’s grip.

“Ok, ok,” Sam chuckled, lowering you to the ground so you could run to Rowena for a hug. “It’s probably best that you guys don’t stay in the bunker.” Sam directed his next words at the witch holding his little sister. “The bunker’s system still goes a little wonky with a witch inside, so one of your safe houses is probably a better idea.”

“That works for me.” Rowena grinned. “How would you like to go to Paris, sweet thing?” She asked you.

“This is a horrible idea,” Dean sighed. But he still grabbed his bag and headed out to Baby anyway.

…

“We’re back!” Sam called as he stepped into the bunker.

“Sammy! De!” You squealed, running to your big brothers and reaching them just as they came down the stairs. Dean scooped you into his arms and held you tight, comforted to see such a happy sight after such a grueling hunt.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, noticing your outfit.

“Auntie Row took me to shops in Paris, and we got a lot of clothes!” You babbled excitedly as Dean let Sam pull you into his arms.

“You’re spoiling her, Rowena,” Dean chuckled, no longer quite so hesitant about the witch now that he saw how happy you were.

“And she deserves every bit of it,” Rowena said.

…

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry darling, but you must sit still!”

“What’s going on in here?” Sam asked curiously as he stepped into your room to see you and Rowena sitting in front of your vanity.

“I’m trying to do her hair, but she won’t stop squirming,” Rowena explained, running a little pink brush through your hair.

“It’s all knotty!” You whined.

“Well it won’t be in a minute,” Rowena said.

Sam just smiled as he watched you, finally getting experiences that you’d never had before; motherly experiences.

The more he watched, though, the more he noticed how much you were squirming, and how much you seemed to be whining.

“Hey, you seem kinda grumpy, kid. Did you get a nap today?” He asked, coming to stand beside you and Rowena.

“Yeah,” you sniffled.

“You’re kinda pale,” he muttered under his breath, getting on one knee and reaching the back of his hand out to touch your forehead. “Jeez kid, you’re burning up.”

“She’s ill?” Rowena put the brush down and turned your chair around so you were facing her, repeating Sam’s gesture and checking your temperature. “She is quite hot.”

“Hey, let’s get you into some pjs, ok?” Sam suggested, lifting you into his arms. “You should get some sleep.”

“I already had a nap!” You insisted, squirming in Sam’s arms.

“Hey Sammy, I think I found us a case,” Dean said, stepping into your room. “Something wrong?”

“She’s got a fever,” Sam sighed. “You should go without me.”

“Oh nonsense,” Rowena spoke up. “Just leave her with me.”

“I don’t want to leave her when she’s sick,” Sam argued.

“Oh she’ll be fine,” Rowena insisted. “I’ll give her some herbs and she’ll be out like a light, she’ll sleep until you get back.”

“I don’t know…” Sam sighed.

“How about this,” Rowena said. “You put her to bed, and leave once she’s asleep. I’ll watch over her, and I’ll call you if she worsens.”

“Alright.” Sam looked at you. “Is that ok kiddo?”

You nodded sleepily, suddenly not so eager to fight another nap.

“Sammy, my tummy hurts,” you whimpered.

Sam nearly melted at this, more reluctant than ever to leave you.

“I know sweetheart, c’mon let’s get you into some pjs and then you can go to sleep, ok?”

Sam helped you get dressed while Dean packed for the hunt. It didn’t take long to have you tucked into bed, and you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sam lingered in your doorway, unsure about leaving you like this.

“She’ll be fine,” Rowena soothed the Winchester brother. “She’s asleep, and I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Alright,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag that Dean had packed him. “Just…take care of her, ok?”

“Always,” Rowena responded.

And she did. When the Winchester brothers returned, your fever had broken and you were resting on the couch with Rowena, some cartoon playing on the tv.

“Hello boys,” she greeted when she saw them.

“Hey kid.” Sam went straight to you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Are you feeling any better?”

Rowena went to speak to Dean while you answered Sam with a distracted “yeah,” continuing to watch your cartoon.

“Her fever broke,” she explained to him. “I think it’s best if she rests a bit more, though.”

“Thank you, Rowena,” Dean said sincerely. “She really seems to like you.”

Rowena smiled. “She does, doesn’t she?”

…

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked you.

You nodded, finally pulling your gaze from the cartoon.

“Yeah, I like Auntie Row!”

Sam smiled softly.

“I’m glad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[fanfictionalraven]

Sleep Without You

Title: Sleep Without You

Song Inspiration: Sleep Without You by Brett Young

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eileen, Mary, Jody, Donna, Charlie

Word Count: 2,082

Warnings: Reader gets drunk, fluff

Author’s Note: This story is not canon compliant because I prefer my characters alive and happy.

“Do not make us come in there and take her, Dean,” Jody says through your bedroom door. You throw your head back and laugh from where you’re standing over the bathroom sink. Dean rolls his eyes from where he’d been watching you get ready. He walks over to the door and pulls it open with a dramatic huff.

“I’m not holding her hostage,” he tells the small group of women he finds waiting. Jody looks past him and you stick your head out of the bathroom.

“I’m almost ready. Sorry,” you apologize. Donna looks between the two of you suspiciously.

“There was definitely some hanky-panky going on here,” she says. Dean rolls his eyes again and walks back over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. You laugh but blush despite yourself. She wasn’t wrong. The second Dean had seen you in the little red dress, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Honestly, I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes,” you tell them. Eileen laughs and nudges the two other women down the hall, sending a wink back at you before she disappears herself. You quickly slip into a strappy pair of matching red heels and can feel Dean’s eyes still on you. “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything!!” He says, defensively.

“No, but you’re thinking about it,” you laugh. Standing to your full height, you hold your arms out and turn in a slow circle. “Alright. How do I look?”

“Too damn good,” he compliments. You smile as you step over to him, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “Don’t get to see you all dolled up like this too often. Without it being for a case at least.”

“I know. This is actually so…normal,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “A bachelorette party.”

“Can’t believe they’re actually getting married,” Dean muses.

“Little Sammy’s all grown up,” you tease, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “Least this time he got my blessing.” You laugh and shake your head. “You should go before the search party comes back.” Leaning down, you give him a quick kiss.

“Don’t wait up,” you tell him. He laughs lightly and gives your hips a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t party too hard,” he says. You can’t help but laugh again.

“The party consists of the bride-to-be, myself, your mother, two officers of the law who might as well be your mother and your aunt, and a lesbian. I make no promises,” you say as you run a hand through his hair. He gives you a smile and shakes his head.

“Sammy and I will work on the bail money,” he jokes.

“Much appreciated,” you laugh and take a step back for him to stand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you tenderly. The two of you stand there for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Y/N!” Mary calls your name as she comes down the hallway.

“Whoops! They sent the big guns this time,” you say, stepping away from Dean. He laughs as he follows you to the door and leans against the frame, crossing his arms.

“Be careful. Have fun,” he says as Mary takes you by the elbow. You wink back at Dean and give him a wave as you stumble along behind his mother.

***

“Don’t wait up.”

Those had been your instructions to Dean. He had tried to follow them. He knew you all would be out late so he made a valiant effort to turn in for the night around 12:30. The scent of your shampoo on the pillow next to him was too much to bear.

At 12:35, he made his way back to the library and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Sitting back in one of the chairs, he pulls his phone out and smiles at the picture of you grinning back at him.

At 12:40, Sam wanders back into the library. He pauses when he sees his older brother. Dean looks up at him and chuckles.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asks. Sam shakes his head as he walks over and sits across from Dean who pours a second glass. “What was it for you?” Sam swirls the glass slowly and cuts his eyes up at his brother.

“She usually plays with my hair while I go to sleep,” he admits, a bit embarrassed. Dean smiles and shakes his head, taking a drink. “You?”

“Pillow smelled too damn much like her,” he says, as though it were completely obvious. Now it’s Sam’s turn to shake his head.

“What happened to us?” He laughs. Dean shrugs, glancing back at his phone screen. “I mean…I’m getting married in a couple weeks. What?”

“Nah. I always saw that for you,” Dean says, looking at his younger brother. Sam gives him a skeptical look. Dean shrugs in response. “Hoped for it at least. You deserve it.”

“Just not with Becky?” Sam asks, trying not to smile.

“Eileen is a much better choice. Hands down,” Dean laughs. Sam laughs as well.

The two brothers sit in silence for a little while, each taking sips from their respective glasses. Sam watches his brother pour himself another glass before finally speaking again.

“You deserve it too, ya know,” Sam says simply. Dean looks at him curiously. “Your relationship with Y/N. Being happy and…and loved.”

“I haven’t done a thing to deserve Y/N loving me the way she does,” he says. Sam frowns but Dean gives him a smile. “And yet she keeps on doing it anyways.”

“I understand that,” Sam agrees, raising his glass slightly. Another silent moment passes as Sam gathers the courage to ask his next question. “Have you thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Marriage,” Sam says, making some elaborate, grand gesture with his hands. Dean laughs at Sam’s awkwardness and looks into his glass again.

“I was about ready to ask Mom for her ring but, ugh…someone beat me to it,” he says, smiling at Sam now. Sam’s eyes widen quickly.

“Oh!! Dean, I’m sorry,” he rattles off quickly. Dean laughs and holds a hand up.

“It’s fine. You got to it first, fair and square,” he says, standing and walking across the library. He stops at a lockbox sitting on one of the shelves and quickly puts in a combination. Sam watches his brother, curiously, as Dean removes something from the box. “Had to hustle a hell of a lot of pool but…” He walks back to his seat and holds up a simple but beautiful diamond ring. Sam stares it for a moment before looking at his brother, wide eyed.

“How long have you had that?” He asks. Dean shrugs, examining the ring between his fingers.

“Bought it about two weeks after you asked Eileen,” Dean recounts. “I’d been thinking about it for a while. Almost asked Mom, like I said. I just wasn’t sure if Y/N would go for it. What we have now is one thing. Marriage is whole other one. Then when you asked Eileen…I could see it in her eyes.”

“That was months ago. Why haven’t you asked her yet?” Sam questions.

“Didn’t wanna feel like I was just copying you or trying to steal anyone’s thunder,” Dean explains, going back to the box. “I’ll give it a little time. Let you and Eileen have your moment. Then I’ll ask.”

“Neither of us would care. We’d be thrilled for you both,” Sam tells him. Dean smiles and shrugs, putting the ring away again. He closes the box and relocks it.

“I’ve waited this long. A few more weeks won’t hurt,” Dean says. Sam smiles a little and nods as Dean comes back to his seat. Dean stretches and looks at his phone again. “Now, the real question…is when are you two gonna make me an uncle?” Sam sputters on his drink, quickly setting the glass down. Dean roars with laughter as the door to the war room opens up.

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play…and the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate…but I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake…shake it off, shake it off…” You, Eileen, and Charlie all come in singing together, arms around each other. You all three stumble through a few very uncoordinated hip shimmies.

“Dear God. They are wasted,” Dean laughs. Mary runs around in front of your small choir and heads you off at the stairs.

“A little help?” She calls down to her sons. The two brothers get up quickly and make their way up the stairs. Sam wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and starts to help her down the stairs as she giggles. Mary assists Charlie who grips the handrail as the room starts to spin on her. You cross your arms as Dean comes over to you.

“I told you not to wait up,” you scold him. He laughs and shakes his head, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I tried, promise. Turns out I just can’t sleep without my girl,” he says, pulling you closer quickly. You let out a squeal as you stumble and fall into him. Before you have a second to process what’s happening, Dean scoops you up into his arms and starts to carry you down the stairs.

“I could have walked,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. He rolls his eyes at your protest.

“You wouldn’t have made it two steps,” he teases. “I’ll put you down if you want.”

“No!!” You exclaim, tightening your arms slightly. He laughs and nods.

“That’s what I thought.”

“These three,” Mary says, pointing between all three of you. “Are not allowed to go out drinking again.”

“Herding cats?” Sam asks. Mary scoffs a laugh.

“Cats would have been easier,” she says. Dean looks down at you and smirks.

“Did you not behave for Mom?” He asks. Your shoulders bob up and down as you smile at him coyly.

“Why? You gonna punish me?” You ask with a wink.

“Oh my God,” Mary mutters, quickly leading a still dizzy Charlie towards the hall. Dean laughs wildly as he goes to follow.

“You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow,” he says. He glances back at Sam and finds Eileen gently running her fingers through his hair. “Sleep tight, little brother.” Sam looks up at him and smiles.

“You too.”

Dean carries you down to your bedroom and tosses you on to the bed, eliciting another squeal from you. You kick off your heels as he goes through the dresser, finding one of his old t-shirts you’d claimed ages ago. He helps you change out of your dress and into the shirt with ease. You fall back onto the bed with a huff and close your eyes.

“Hold on,” Dean says, going into the bathroom. He comes back out a second later with a makeup wipe and sits next to you on the bed. You giggle as he gently and carefully wipes your makeup away. “What’s so funny?”

“Big, bad, monster-killing, Dean Winchester is taking my makeup off for me,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“You’d be pissed in the morning if you woke up with all this still on,” he says. He takes extra care around your eyes before finally finishing. “There.” He tosses the wipe into a nearby trash can.

Dean lays down on the bed next to you and you immediately roll over to face him, moving into his side. He lays an arm across your waist, pulling you even closer. Kissing your hair, he breathes in your scent and sighs. You giggle again.

“What now?” He asks.

“You love me,” you say. Dean laughs softly and nods, pushing your hair from your face.

“Yea, I do,” he agrees. You break into a wide grin as you close your eyes. “In fact, I’m gonna marry you, Y/N.” You giggle again and nod.

“I get to be the bachelorette next time,” you say. He laughs again and kisses your forehead.

“Mom’s gonna be thrilled.”

The next morning, Dean has aspirin and water ready by the bed for you when you wake up. You remember nothing from the majority of the night before, especially anything from when you all returned to the bunker. But when you catch the bouquet at Sam and Eileen’s wedding and see the look on Dean’s face, a fragment of a conversation comes back to you.

I’m gonna marry you, Y/N.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

[sammyluvr]

my boy deserves all of the smooches :(( where do you think are sam's weakspots to be kissed?

OOOO I LOVE THIS QUESTION... sorta wanna answer it when i'm not halfway asleep or completely brain empty but i also want to think about it now because it's cute :((( maybe i will revisit later with a reblog or short headcanons about it <333 all sfw for this post!!

i think simple cheek kisses really make him soft and blushy because there's something very very sweet and almost innocent about them. they can be casual but they can also be verryyyy very caring and soft and intimate. he loves when you linger there for a moment. it makes him want to curl his hands around your hips and tug you into his lap and kiss you for hours, but before he can do it, you're gone already. he especially loves it if you kiss his cheek while you're standing and he's sitting down :,)

maybe i'm projecting but the tip of his nose :(( the first time you do it, he's really not expecting it. it's not a sensation he's used to, and it makes his heart melt and beat a million times a minute at the same time, every time. it makes his brain go quite and still for a moment because he's not expecting it almost ever unless you're slow or obvious about it. he almost just doesn't know what to do with himself when you do it. likes to grab you by the hips and keep you there and just look at you after you do it and it's like oh. hi :)

uhhhh his back dimples.... yeah. uh he almost passed out when you did it in a non-nsfw context. he was just laying on his stomach with no shirt on and you came up to him... he was sleepy and not paying that much attention, he sorta assumed you'd either join him to cuddle or grab something by the bed. what he doesn't expect is your lips on his lower back??? he's so gone he just malfunctions probably. or makes out with you for ten hours idk man

kiss his fingers please :,) just please... anywhere... his hands anywhere it makes him wanna die a little bit in the good way. thinks his hands have done too much wrong to be kissed by you, but you seem to love it so much that he lets you do it and cries a little inside. kisses your hands back a lot

lowkey anywhere on his head. his forehead, his hairline, the top of his head through his pretty hair... he loves it :,)

uhhh literally his lips. just kiss his lips he'll do whatever you want him to probably <33

honorable mentions are literally anywhere on his body because he's obsessed with you and touch starved (thinking precage :D slash the times he's comfy with physical affection afterwards) and so madly in love with you <333333

real honorable mentions are his jaw, anywhere on his neck but definitely his adam's apple, his collarbones, his shoulders anywhere, his back especially his spine <333

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 7)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst, feels, Mary Winchester. Unedited of-course.

A/n: looks who’s back from the dead.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

John waited for his wife to get back home. After Dean had left, he wondered how he'd approach the topic with Mary. He knew she is way too thrilled about Dean marrying Rachel. The minute Mary entered the house he called her out in the living room. Mary who had gone to meet Sam and Jess came back in an extremely good mood. John knew this could go either way, maybe her being in a good mood be helpful for him. He loves his wife but he loves his son too, when they themselves fought for their love, how could they not support their son for the same. 

"Mary," John said her name gaining her attention, she looked up at him urging him to continue. “I need to talk to you about Dean.”

“Dean? What about him?” Mary said furrowing her brows and taking a seat in front of John.

“Look I don’t think it’s wise for us to for him to marry Rachel. He loves someone else. He’s engaged.” Mary’s eyes widened at the mention of her son being engaged without her knowledge but she tried to play it off.

“Ofcourse he is, to Rachel.” She replied with a scoff. John rubbed a hand over his forehead trying to keep his cool.

“No, he loves someone else. He is engaged to her. Why are you being like this?” John argued.

“Who is she anyway?” She asked ignoring his question.

“I didn’t ask. And even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you. You’re being extremely detrimental. I wouldn’t trust you with that information.” John said firmly. Mary was taken aback by his stern behaviour.

“I don’t care, I like Rachel and Dean is marrying her. That’s final. Whether he likes it or not.” She said with a finality in her tone.

“You out of everyone should know what it is to fight for you love.” John reminded her, after all she herself defied her parents to marry him. His words might’ve stuck a chord in her because instead of retoring back at him, her face morphed into one of understanding.

“I’ll talk to Dean.” John seemed a bit relieved at her words.

The next day Mary sauntered into Dean’s office, Y/n stood up to greet her but didn’t stop her. Dean’s told her that his parents and brother are the only ones that can walk in without an appointment, apart from her of course. Mary nodded at her in acknowledgment and went straight inside.

Dean looked up to see his mother, he wasn’t surprised knowing his father must’ve talked to her. He leaned back in his chair, looking at her.

“Mother.” He acknowledged her calmly. She didn’t sit nor did she speak for a moment. With her arms crossed against her chest she stared him down.

“You talked to your father.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah because he talks.” He sat up and stated with a scoff.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mary glared at him.

“It means that he was willing to listen and talk to me instead of making decisions about my life without telling me.” He snapped standing up.

“Don’t raise your voice at me Dean.” The air felt heavy, charged with an almost tangible discomfort. It felt as though the tension could snap at any moment, unleashing emotions that have been tightly wound.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked in a calm tone.

“Who is it that your supposedly engaged to?”

“Y/n.” Dean replied smugly without a second thought.

“Y/n? You mean the one that’s right outside?” She asked incredulously. He nodded affirmatively. “Dean I really came here to talk to you and to try to support you but her? Really? An employee?”

“Why does it matter if she’s an employee? I love her, isn’t that enough for you?”

“It isn’t. She isn’t worthy of you. I’m not letting you marry some low life when you could get married to someone like Rachel.” Dean’s anger flared at the mention of the woman he despises and the way his mother talked about the love of his life.

“That’s enough.” Dean yelled, making her flinch back a bit. “Leave.” He ordered. Mary stomped over to the door and stopped with her hand on the knob. She turned to sneer at him.

“You will marry Rachel and I will make sure of it.” And then she left. Her eyes landed on Y/n at her desk, working diligently. Instead of confronting her right there, she smirked before leaving the building.

The phone on Y/n’s desk rang, it was Dean asking her to come inside. The minute she stepped inside the room, Dean felt his throat tighten. The silence between them isn’t comfortable anymore; it’s heavy, like he didn’t know how to talk without breaking— it’s like they’re slipping further apart, like sand through the fingers.

“Come here please.” Dean’s voice was low, barely audible and almost on the verge of breaking. Y/n wanted to protest, to tell him that they shouldn’t, that he’s not hers anymore. That they don’t belong together anymore. But her legs worked faster her mouth did and she found herself walking closer to his desk. He stood from his chair and closed the distance between them. Pulling her into his arms he made her sit onto his desk. He stood between her legs, his hands on her waist, his face hidden in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Say the word, baby. Please, tell me to do it and I’ll leave everything.” His grip on her tightened as he mumbled in her neck.

“Dean, we talked about this.” She tried to say but he shook his head and shot her down before she could say any further.

“I don’t want anything other than you, holding you close feels like the only thing keeping me grounded. I can feel your warmth, the steady rise and fall of your breath against me. It’s the only thing that brings me solace, baby I’m nothing without you. Just wrapping my arms around you feels like home. Now I’m holding on like it’s the last time, as if this moment is all I have left. And I don’t want that. Like you said, this position wasn’t given to me, I earned it. I can earn it again. Somewhere else, with you by my side. I can do anything, sweetheart just say the word.” He begged and she could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. They hovered on the edge, heavy and hot, as if the weight of everything she was holding back had finally become too much. She blinked rapidly, willing them to stay put, but the ache in her chest made it harder with every breath. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke.

“Please don’t do this, Dean. It’d make me fall from grace. I’d never be able to look you in the eyes knowing I made you give up what you’ve worked so hard for,” she replied, her voice trembling as the words escaped her. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest, each beat a reminder of the sacrifice she was asking him to make. She could feel his tears now, hot and unyielding as they dripped onto her neck, soaking into her skin like the weight of everything unsaid.

It hurt, seeing him like this, torn between his love for her and the life he was meant to live. A part of her wanted to hold on, to tell him to stay, but she knew deep down that she couldn’t be the reason he walked away from his dreams.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01 @n-o-p-e-never

[marie-swriting]

I'll Never Leave You - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You thought your father, Dean Winchester, would always be by your side.

Warnings : Spoiler last episode of the show!, reader is Dean's daughter, no age mention but reader is a young adult, angst, character death, feeling of hopelessness, loss of a parent, bittersweet ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English isn't my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Song inspiration : Marjorie by Taylor Swift

Laying on your bed, a book in hand and your dog Miracle at your feet, you patiently wait for your dad and your Uncle Sam to come home from the hunt. Since the apocalypses, the wars between Angels, Archangels and God have officially stopped, you took a step back from the hunting life. You still help them with the research but you don’t go on the field as much. You can finally have a normal - as normal as it can be when your last name is Winchester - and Dean supports your decision, glad to know your future is full of possibilities. 

You’re in the middle of a chapter when you hear the bunker’s door opening. Miracle raises his head while you put your book on the bed. You trot to the entrance where you only find Sam with an emotionless look on his face however you don’t notice it. 

“Was the hunt good? Where’s dad?” you question with a smile.

“Y/N, something happened.”

“What? Did you scratch Baby?” you laugh, yet your smile disappears as soon as you see his serious face.

“No, it’s Dean.”

“What is it? Uncle Sam, what happened? Is dad hurt? Where is he?”

“Y/N, wait,” Sam holds you back as you’re about to leave the room. “You should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down, I want to know where my dad is.”

“We found a vampire nest so we went there to kill them but Dean got hurt.”

“Is he okay, though, right?”

Sam stays silent for a long second before speaking again.

“One of the vampires pushed them against a beam and there was a spike. He got severely injured.”

“What do you mean, Sam? Tell me my dad is okay!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, Dean… he died during the hunt.”

Upon hearing this sentence, the floor crumbles underneath your feet. You can’t believe it. You stay speechless while Sam keeps talking.

“You dad wanted you to know he’s always been proud of you and he loves you. He also told me-”

“No…,” you interrupt him with watery eyes. “Wh-, How-, it can’t be.” you stutter, shaking your head. “He can’t die! He is Dean Winchester. He’s survived so many things. He can’t be dead!”

“Y/N/N, I’m terribly sorry.”

“No!” you scream when Sam is about to hug you. “I… I need…”

You don’t finish your sentence, too stunned to speak. You run to your room, tears rolling down your face, Miracle hot on your heels. You let the dog in the room before locking yourself in. Completely confused, you don’t know what to stare at. Your eyes look everywhere while Sam’s words are echoing in your head: ‘He died during the hunt.’ You choke while big tears stream down your cheeks. You fall to the ground as your heart bleeds. You can’t believe you’ve just lost your dad.

One could think it wouldn’t hurt as much after Dean cheated death so many times, however the pain is still unbearable - if not worse, this time. You grew up with only your dad and your Uncle Sam as your mom died in childbirth. Your family isn’t big but your love for them knows no limit. You had to overcome a lot of loss the past years, whether it was Bobby, Charlie, Castiel or other people, though the pain you felt at their death is nothing compared to what you’re feeling right now. You’re lost, begging in the empty for your dad to come back to you. Miracle has his head on your legs, trying to comfort you. You stare at him and you hurt a bit more.

Dean never wanted a dog, no matter how many times you asked him for one. He always used to say with your way of life, you couldn’t take care of one and above all, he’d say no dog would ever get in the Impala as long as he’s alive. However, the second your life went back to normal, he rescued Miracle. You secretly suspect he’s always wanted a dog and your whim was the perfect excuse to adopt one. When he brought Miracle home, you weren’t surprised to see he was the one he got. Miracle managed to find his way to Dean’s heart since they first met, though he would never admit it… would have never admitted it. 

Dean was finally having the life he’s always wanted, far away from the repeating apocalypses and it was taken from him as quickly as it came. It isn’t fair. You dad doesn’t deserve to die this young and you still need him. You’ll always need him.

You stay with your back against the door and Miracle in your arms for several hours. Actually, you don’t know how long you stayed in this position. You’re numb, time is standing still since your discussion with Sam. Maybe only two hours passed or a whole day, you have no idea and you don’t have the strength to check it on your phone. All you want is your dad. You don’t care what time it is or if you need to eat. You just want Dean and his comfort.

You think back to all the times you lost Dean and all the times he came back. There always was a solution. There must be one for this time, too. His time hasn’t come yet. You still can bring back your dad to life, no matter the sacrifice you have to make. You dry your cheeks and stand up. Determined, you leave your room and walk to the library, Miracle following you. You take several lore books you already know and others you’ve never read but could be useful. On the table, you have at least four piles of ten books, yet you’re still motivated. You could read thousands of books, as long as you find a solution, that’s all that matters. You take one and start reading it and taking notes with information that might be helpful.

You’ve just finished a whole stack when Sam’s voice snaps you out of your reading, startling you. Sam stares at you, worried while you don’t pay much attention to him before going back to your research. Sam sits in front of you yet, he stays silent. He watches you for a few minutes before speaking.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’m gonna give Dean a Hunter’s funeral tomorrow. If you wanna join me.”

“Don’t burn his body!” you exclaim following his information.

“I have to and you know it.”

“No! If you do it, it’ll be even harder to save him.”

“What exactly are you researching, Y/N?” Sam questions, fearing your answer.

“A way to resuscitate dad.”

“Y/N, we can’t do that.” He firmly says and you look at him sternly.

“Why? That didn’t stop you and dad from doing it numerous times before, why would it be any different now?”

“Because everytime we wanted to cheat death, it caused major issues, you know that damn well.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Dad can’t be dead, not like this, not now that everything is starting to get better. I’m gonna bring him back, no matter the price.” you affirm, opening a new book.

“Even if you have to die?” Sam interrogated, surprised.

“As long as he’s alive, that’s all that matters.”

“Y/N, your dad wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your life for him. He’d want you to live it.”

“It means nothing if he isn’t there.” you say, your lip quivering. “I need him, Uncle Sam. I have to bring him back.”

“We can’t.”

“We damn well can! We can find a solution.” you argue before having an idea. “I’m even sure if we asked Jack, he’d do it. After all, the current God likes us more than the last one, we’re his family.”

“Y/N, we can’t save him, not this time.” Sam insists, making you angry.

“If you don’t want to save your big brother who sacrificed everything for you, that’s your problem, as for me, I’m gonna save him, so either you help me or you leave me alone.”

“It’s time he rests in peace, especially after everything he went through.”

“Because of everything he went through, he deserves to live without worrying about Lucifer, God or another Archangel.”

You look at Sam, sure of yourself. Sam doesn’t reply right away before weighing pros and cons and admitting to you: 

“Dean specifically asked to not be brought back to life because he knew too well the consequences so respect his wish.”

“He was dying, he didn’t know what he wanted. Now, leave me, I have lots of research to do.”

Defeated, Sam sighs before leaving the library. He sees how desperate and in denial you are. He just hopes you’ll realise very soon bringing Dean back is dangerous and useless. Though he fears you’ll realise it too late and you’ll suffer even more. Either way, he promised Dean to be there for you and that’s what he’s going to do. Whether you want it or not, Sam will stay by your side to comfort you the instant you’ll accept Dean’s death.

The following day, Sam gives Dean a Hunter’s funeral alone. He tried to convince you to come but you refused, preferring to lose yourself in your research. Sam wished he could have done the funeral later, fearing you might regret it later for missing this last goodbye to Dean, unfortunately, it had to be done as soon as possible. 

Sam worries more and more for you. You’ve completely shut yourself out. You only read books in the library and do more advanced research on the internet without sleeping or eating. He brings you food however you almost never eat and you pull all-nighter after the other, despite his disapproval. He doesn’t know what to do to help you. He knew you’d be devastated when he told you Dean’s death but he didn’t expect this reaction. 

A few weeks later, the situation hasn’t evolved, except that now you’re locked in your room and not in the library as a way to avoid Sam. You’re still mad at him for not wanting to help you save your father. You don’t understand how he can be this passive. Your father would have done everything to bring back Sam if the roles were reversed, you’re sure of it.

You finish reading the last book you took from the library when you have an idea. You think you know where to look, except you didn’t see the book when you rummage through all the shelves or you would have started with this one right away. Just in case, you go through the mess that is your room now before going to the library and checking everywhere four times. You try to remember where it might be when a memory comes into your mind. You saw it last in your dad’s bedroom a few weeks before his death. You haven’t stepped a foot there since Dean’s last hunt. You just can’t. You’d like to, though. Normally, whenever you’re feeling down, you go find your dad in his room so he can comfort you. However, if you went to his room now, you’d face a loud silence and you can’t face it.

It was a few years ago during a fall morning. Dean had woken you up early. Too early. At 4:00 P.M. to be specific. He had woken you up because he wanted to have a father-daughter day. This was how you found yourself in the Impala this early while you were still mentally sleeping and your dad was happy to spend the day with you.

Reluctantly, you end up walking slowly to Dean’s bedroom. You stay in front of the door for some time, pondering if you should go in or not. You don’t know if you’re ready to enter his room but on the other hand, you need this book, it might be the solution. You take a deep breath and open the door. The corridor light penetrates the room and you can see the bed which is made, his music collection and the book you’re looking for on the desk. You turn on the light and take big steps to his desk, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. However, you don’t do it. On the desk chair, you find one of your dad’s shirts. You get teary eyes as you take it and bring the cloth to your nose. You smell the familiar scent and you burst into tears in one second. You wish Dean would come to his room and tell you not to steal one of his tapes like you usually do. Everytime he’d admonish you, he’d pretend it bothered him when in reality, he loved knowing he passed on his love for classic rock to you. His bedroom is now all that’s left of him and you don’t want to lose this place, even the most insignificant piece of scrap such as the menu from the burger place a few miles away is now of an inestimable value. Your eyes fall on a piece of paper lying in the middle of the desk. Carefully, you read it and find it’s an application to become a firefighter on which you can see his signature with his name on the bottom of the paper. You sob when you think back of the first time your dad confessed to you he would have loved to be one if he hadn’t been a hunter. 

“You know, a father-daughter day can start at 10:00 P.M.,” you complained, yawning.

“You’re not gonna regret waking up early, trust me. We’re almost there.”

“It better be amazing or during the next roadtrip I pick the music.”

“Hell no! You know the rules.” Dean refused.

“Yeah, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, whatever. I deserve some compensation!”

“I got you some donuts.” he exclaimed, showing the pink box at your feet.

“It’s a good start.”

A few minutes later, you arrived in front of a lake. Dean told you to get out of the car and to lean on the hood with the donuts in hand. Despite the morning breeze, you started eating while watching the sunrise. The sky was a beautiful amber colour and it was reflecting on the lake, making the scene even more stunning. It was peaceful, save for the birds which were waking up.

“So, wasn’t it worth it?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

“Ok, you were right and besides, the donuts are delicious. I didn’t think of you as a fan of watching the sunrise.”

“I can be interested in nature!”

“Stop it or next thing you know, you’re only gonna eat salad like Uncle Sam.” you answered with a fake fear expression on your face to which Dean rolled his eyes.

“The fact is we’re having a great time as a father and daughter, away from all the supernatural threats.” Dean said, holding you close to him.

“True.”

“And like this, I can make it up a little bit for the father I am.”

“You don’t have to make it up. You’re a great dad.”

“No children should grow up like you did, like I did. I always promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistakes as my father and here you are in the middle of all this crap between two High School periods.” He grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Do I have to remind you I started hunting because I followed you, not because you forced me to?”

“I’m still mad at you for that. You shouldn’t have followed us when you didn’t even know what you were fighting, it could have ended badly!”

“The fact is I saved your ass from some werewolves.” you retorted with a proud smile.

“You especially got lucky. I didn’t know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt.”

“I learned from the best, nothing can happen to me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. With Sam, we always got ourselves out of those messes just on time. I don’t like knowing you’re part of the hunting life.” Dean confessed with sad eyes.

“I chose it. You always give me a way out and I never take it because I like to hunt.”

“Maybe, but I wish you had the opportunity to lead a normal life, you deserve it.”

“I might not hunt my whole life, I don’t know for sure. For now, it’s what I want to do, though. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’d do if I weren’t a hunter. Besides, you deserve a normal life, too, you know.” you affirmed, firmly.

“It’s too late for me. And I’m not made for the apple pie life but it can be different for you.”

Your heart broke in your chest upon hearing your dad saying this. You wish his life had been different, that his dad had given him the choice when he was younger. Dean might have kept everything buried inside yet, you could read him like an open book. No matter what he affirmed you, you knew your dad wished for a calmer life.

“What would you have done, if you hadn’t been a hunter?” you randomly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had the apple pie life, what would be your job?”

“I don’t know.” he replied but you didn’t believe him.

“You’re telling me you never thought about it ? You’re lying. I can totally see you in a job where you help others.”

“I would have loved to be a firefighter.” Dean confessed after marking a pause.

“You would have been a good firefighter, I’m sure of it. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll have your chance?”

“I don’t think so. I made up my mind I’ll always be a hunter and besides without hunting, I would have never met your mother and you wouldn’t be here so I’m grateful for this life.” he affirmed with a genuine smile.

“You’ll always be here, right?”

“Always.” he promised.

You kept watching the sunrise while talking about more random topics, you particularly complained about some teachers and Dean shared his High School experiences - while leaving behind some details as to not be a bad influence. 

In hindsight, you realise to what extent Dean could have lived the life he wanted. He was probably going to go less and less on hunts so he could do the job he always loved and his chance at a normal life has been ripped away from him. After everything he went through, he deserved this chance. 

The rest of the day, Dean taught you how to drive Baby, something that didn’t happen often. You were so happy to see your dad trusting you this much. You carefully listened to Dean to avoid making any mistakes. Dean, as for him, loved sharing this knowledge with you, despite having some anxiety over Baby potentially being injured at any given moment. After that day, this place by the lake quickly became your father-daughter spot.

Furthermore, you become aware you’ll never have a father-daughter day again where Dean wakes you before the sun so you could enjoy every instant. Had you known, you would have made sure to memorise every second of your last day. All of these memories are part of the past and you can’t bear the idea of it. You can’t stay another day away from your dad, you’re desperate and you must save him. You keep the shirt in your hand while you close the door then, you pray to Jack, looking up

“Please, Jack, if you can hear me, you have to help me. I’ll bother you only this one time, I promise. I won’t ask for anything else. I just need my father, you have to bring him back. Please, help me.”

You keep begging as you close your eyes as if it gave more strength to your prayers. After a few minutes, Jack’s voice saying your name resonates in the room. You open your eyes and throw yourself in his arms. You missed him so much. You quickly considered Jack as your little brother after he was born so the second he took over Chuck, you heart broke. You’re glad to see Jack replied to your call, despite his responsibilities.

“I’m happy to see you, Y/N.”

“Me too, you have no idea.”

“You prayed so we could talk about Dean. Let me tell you, he is in Heaven. He deserves it after everything he’s done.” he informs you with a genuine smile.

“He particularly deserves to live. Jack, I know I’m asking for a lot but he can’t stay in Heaven, he has a life here, he has to live it.”

“I can’t do that and you know it.”

“You’re the new God, of course you can!” you exclaim, appalled.

“After everything he’s sacrificed, he can finally rest.”

“No, he can finally live! Jack, you have to save him.” you beg, tears in your eyes.

“I can’t break the new balance we just made and also, he doesn’t want to, Y/N, he knows the price to pay and he doesn’t want you and Sam to pay it, you in particular.” Jack says, calmly.

“You’re lying! My dad would never leave me. Please, Jack, I’m begging you to help me. Whether you do it or not, I’ll find a way but with your help, I’ll cause less damage.”

“My answer stays the same. I’m sorry.” he insists, making you mad.

“Leave. I’ll do it alone. I don’t need you! Leave!”

Disappointed, Jack disappears, leaving you alone in Dean’s room. You can’t understand why no one wants to help you. You’re not asking to bring back a monster, just your father so why is everyone letting you down? Your tears who had stopped rolling down earlier find their way back on your cheeks again in a second. You’re sick of everything. You’re sick of crying. You’re sick of no one helping you. And more specifically, you’re sick of not having your father.

Mentally tired, you end up laying down on Dean’s bed and you hold the shirt close to you, hoping it’ll bring you some sense of comfort. You keep crying until you finally fall asleep for the first time in weeks.

A light breeze going over your body wakes you up. You open your eyes, not understanding where it comes from and you find yourself on the backseat of Dean’s car. You just have the time to look up when you see the car door opened and your dad telling you to get out of the car. Surprised, you need a second before jumping into his arms. Dean hugs you back and strokes your back while you pay attention to his shoulders moving at the rhythm of his breath to make sure he’s alive. After a few minutes, you break the embrace and Dean drags you so you can lean against the hood of the Impala which is parked in front of the lake. Dean puts his arm around your shoulder while you put your head against his.

“Dad, is this a dream or real? I’m confused, I haven’t found a solution yet so how can you be here? And how did I get in the Impala?”

“Jack must have found a way for us to meet again.” Dean answers, giving you hope, in spite of himself. 

“So, is it all good? You’re safe?”

“No, sweetheart. Jack and Sam were right when they said I didn’t want to be brought back to life.”

“Why, though? You finally had everything you wanted!” you anger, taking a step back from Dean.

“I can’t keep on dying and coming back to life, I had to die for good one day.”

“Yeah, when you’d be old, very old, not now!”

“I wish it could have been later, too, but it is what it is, there’s nothing we can’t do. Y/N/N, I don’t want you to spend your life trying to find a way to bring me back, it always ends badly. I promise you, I regret nothing, I’m fine and I can finally rest. You have to keep living without worrying about me.” he tells you, calmly.

“But I need you, dad.” you retort, shaking your head. “There’s so much I don’t know, there’s so many questions I should have asked you about the supernatural, what I’m supposed to do, on how to be and even more questions I haven’t thought about yet. It’s too hard without you.” you say, your voice breaking.

“You’ll be okay, I know you will. You’re a fighter, a Winchester. I’m proud of you and the woman you became, I hope you know that.”

“Uncle Sam told me, yeah.”

“Don’t push him away. He tries his best to support you while respecting what I asked him.” Dean tenderly states.

“You told me you’d never leave me. You promised you’d always be here.”

“And I meant it. I’ll always be by your side even if you don’t see me. I’ll never leave you and when the moment comes, we’ll meet again.”

“I want us to meet again now.” you cry and Dean takes you in his arms.

“I wish we could but we can’t. I’m sorry we didn’t have much time together. I love you, sweetheart, never forget it.”

“I love you, too, dad.” you say before breaking the embrace. “I’ll apologise to Uncle Sam, I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“He isn’t mad at you, I’m sure of it. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” he says, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s enjoy this moment. Donuts?”

A small smile finds its way to your face as soon as he hands you a donut. You take it and eat it, enjoying this precious moment. Mentally, you thank Jack and apologise to him before focusing back on the lake illuminated by the sunrise until you slowly fall back asleep.

The second you wake up, you’re in Dean’s room again, his shirt next to yours. A single tear streams down your face yet, this time, this tear isn’t only for the pain of losing your dad. This tear is full of sadness, yes, but also of joy as you got one last goodbye. This tear rolls down because you know Dean’s death is still affecting you notwithstanding, he’s right, he can’t be brought back to life and you have to accept it. You know that despite everything, he’s still all around you.

You look at the clock on the nightstand and discover it’s still early and the sun is still rising in the sky. You take one of your dad’s jackets in his closet and leave the bunker with Miracle who woke up when he heard you. Outside, you admire the dawn, your heart pinching in your chest a little. No matter how many sunrises you’ll have to live without Dean, you promise yourself to have at least a day during the week where you’ll wake up early and think about your dad. You want to keep him alive in your head and for this, you want to keep the traditions you had when he was still there.

The day officially started, you grab Baby’s keys and drive downtown, more specifically to the Fire Academy. You enter the building and wait for your turn at the reception. As soon as it’s your turn, the woman tells you to come closer and asks what you need.

“I’d like to apply to be a firefighter, please.”

The woman gives you some information and papers to fill and when she’s done, you thank her and go back to the Impala. Sat on the driver seat, you look at the papers with a bittersweet smile. Though you don’t see Dean, you know he’s here, right next to you, happy to see you officially quit the hunting life and realise your dreams and his.

Masterlist

[yourmomxx]

*Dean teaching y/n how to drive*

Dean: So, John and Mary are walking down the street in front of you, what do you hit?

Y/N: the breaks.

Dean: very good.

Cas *singing quietly in the back*: I took a left, swerved, then I took a right-

[thestoriesfold]

Died, went to hell for a minute and watched about 11 seasons of SPN 5 years after it ended. If the fandom isn’t dead, what do we want? Winchester!Reader? Sam or Dean x reader? Slow burn? Angst? Fluff? Smut? What do you WANT?! I made pretty picture, time to wake up and let me renew your feed with like 3 chapters before I die again.

Edit: no pun intended 🗿

[noraantilles]

The Weight of Blood

Pairing: John Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The return of John Winchester didn’t go as planned. You’ve watched Dean and Sam carry the weight of their father’s choices for too long, and it’s time for you to finally speak up about it.

Warnings: Angst, heavy family tension, emotional confrontation, mentions of childhood trauma, strong language, references to toxic parenting, hurt/comfort, John Winchester being called out.

Word count: 4.8k

Gif by @mypapawinchester

The bunker was unusually quiet when you stepped through the heavy iron door, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder. Normally, you’d hear Sam and Dean arguing over research or the faint hum of Dean’s music. Instead, the silence felt heavy, and stifling, as though something, or someone, was waiting.

You dropped your bag near the entrance, your footsteps echoing through the hallway as you made your way toward the library. Turning the corner, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Sam, Dean, and Mary sat at the table, their posture rigid and their faces tense. But it was the stranger at the table, a man with sharp eyes and an air of control, that pulled your attention. He hadn’t spoken a word, but his presence had already claimed the room.

“Y/N”, Sam said suddenly, his voice strained, though he tried to keep it casual. “You’re back.”

Dean shot you a glance, his expression softening just for a second before locking into that neutral look he wore when he was bracing for something.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice slow and careful as your eyes flicked between them and the stranger. “Didn’t realize we had… company.”

Mary’s smile was faint, as she was trying to reassure you, though it faltered at the edges.

The man turned his gaze on you, and immediately, you felt it. The weight of his scrutiny, the way he scanned you like he was sizing you up. Something cold and dismissive simmered behind his eyes, and already, your skin prickled with unease.

Sam stood up abruptly, gesturing toward the man. “Y/N, this is … John …. Winchester. Our dad.”

You froze.

John Winchester.

The name hit you like a slap. You’d heard about him, more than enough. A man so consumed by the hunt that everything else had crumbled. The scars he left behind still marked his sons in ways they couldn’t even see. And now here he was, in the flesh, looking at you like you didn’t belong here.

He stood up, his movements deliberate, as though he was testing the ground he walked on. He extended a hand to you, his expression neutral but his tone dripping with subtle condescension. “I heard you’ve been keeping my boys healthy.”, he said.

Your lips twitched into a smile, but it was tight, controlled, like a taut wire ready to snap.

The anger started low in your chest, simmering. You weren’t one of the monsters hunters were after, so it was never a big deal. You were good at what you did, and that was what mattered. You didn’t need some jerk telling you what you had to be.

Your fists curled slightly on your sides. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know the fights, the sacrifices. Ten years with Sam and Dean, you’d saved their asses more times than you could count. They accepted you, powers and all, and treated you like family. This man? He didn’t get to judge you.

The tension built as you thought about the things Sam and Dean had told you. John Winchester was a hunter through and through. Anything that could remotely be a threat landed on his list. You wanted him to show it. You wanted Sam, Dean, and Mary to see.

Your smile firmed as your jaw ticked. The words came before you could stop them, sharp and deliberate.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice low and even. “I’m not human, by the way.”

Sam’s eyes widened instantly. “Y/N”, he whispered, shaking his head, panic threading his voice. “Stop.”

Dean shot forward slightly in his seat, his voice tense. “Don’t.”

“What?” you said, not looking away from John, your tone mockingly light. “He’s family, isn’t he? I think he deserves to know.”

John’s head turned sharply toward Mary. “John,” Mary said urgently, stepping forward, her voice firm. “She’s not a monster.”

“Oh, but I am, Mary.”, you said smoothly, tilting your head and letting the sarcasm drip off your words. Small deliberate nods began to form as you were watching John. “I’m one of the worst kinds you’ll ever know,” you said, each word dripping with venom.

The shift was instant. John moved, faster than you expected. His fist connected with your face, the impact shattering your nose with a sickening crunch. You stumbled back a few steps, the world spinning as blood poured from your nose and down your chin.

“Dad!” Sam’s voice broke through the ringing in your ears, furious. “She’s been with us for almost ten years now, and the first thing you do is hit her in her own home?”

Sam turned to face his father, eyes blazing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dean stepped forward too, though more reserved, his voice clipped. “Sammy’s right. You had no right to do that.”

John didn’t even look at them. He was watching you, his gaze dark and calculating as you straightened up, swiping a sleeve over your blood-smeared face.

Dean came down the steps, a tissue in hand. “Here,” he said softly, handing it to you.

“Mind your business, Dean,” John snapped.

Dean froze, anger flashing across his face, but before he could respond, you pressed forward against Sam’s outstretched arm. His grip held firm, blocking you.

“Don’t,” he whispered urgently, his tone desperate. Sam had no interest in seeing you throw John Winchester through a wall, even though you could see the temptation flicker in his eyes.

John watched, his gaze flicking to your face as your nose snapped back into place with an audible crack. The blood stopped flowing, and within seconds, there was no swelling, only the lingering streaks of red.

His expression was unreadable as he asked, voice calm but low, “What kind of monster are you?”

You tilted your head again, meeting his gaze with a cold, predatory smile.

“The kind you can’t kill,” you replied.

Sam pushed you back toward the corridor, his voice low and urgent. “Go,” he whispered. “Just go.”

You allowed him to usher you away, but you didn’t look back—not at John, not at the table. The storm you’d unleashed was theirs to deal with now.

Sam’s hand was firm on your shoulder as he guided you through the bunker, his pace quicker than usual. He didn’t say much, just muttering the occasional “Keep walking” under his breath when you were lagging behind. The library’s tension still clung to you like smoke, and your blood boiled just thinking about him.

When you finally reached your room, Sam opened the door and nudged you inside, his patience already frayed. He shut the door behind him with a soft but final click.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice tight with frustration as he leaned back against the closed door, arms crossing over his chest.

You turned to face him, your movements sharp and restless, like a kettle about to boil over. “Yeah, maybe,” you shot back, your voice edged with irritation. Your hands were already in motion—fidgeting, fumbling with the edge of your sleeve before you gestured wide in exasperation. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout the years, then it’s that your dad is a piece of shit.”

Sam’s jaw tensed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as though trying to will away the headache you were causing. You didn’t care. Your hands moved more energetically now, slicing through the air as you paced in front of him.

“And sadly,” you continued with a humorless laugh, “he just proved me right.”

You paused then, crossing your arms over your head and letting out a deep, annoyed sigh. It wasn’t enough to calm the energy buzzing through you, so you started pacing again, your socked feet nearly silent against the concrete floor.

“I won’t let him talk to you guys like that,” you muttered, your tone resolute, as if that explained everything.

“That’s not up to you, alright?” Sam’s voice rose slightly, his frustration flaring. He stepped off the door, his tall frame blocking your pacing path. “Yes, he’s an asshole, but this is something Dean and I have to handle. Not you.”

You froze mid-step, biting down hard on your lower lip to stop the retort threatening to spill out. Your hands twitched at your sides as you turned, doing another half-spin, your energy still finding ways to escape.

Sam let out a slow, measured breath as if trying to rein himself in. “We’ll have to explain to him now, what you are. I had hoped to avoid that in the beginning.”

Your brows furrowed at that, and you tilted your head toward him, your voice sharp but genuinely confused. “Why?”

Sam sighed again, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before dropping his hand to his side. “Because he wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, his tone quieter now. “He doesn’t even know about Cas yet. This is gonna be a case of its own.”

He looked at you, his eyes tired but firm, as though he’d already decided how this would play out. “I want you to stay here, till we talk this out”, he said, the words slow and deliberate, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You opened your mouth to protest, stepping forward as if to challenge him, but Sam was faster.

“Just us four,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no nonsense. “This is a family matter. I’ll come back to you when it’s done.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, and then, as though to hammer his point home, he added, “Till then, you stay… here.”

The emphasis on the last word made you scowl, your teeth sinking into your lower lip again as you glared at him. Sam lingered for just a second longer, giving you a last-searching look before he turned, slipping out of the room and shutting the door firmly behind him.

You stood there, glaring at the door as though your frustration alone could bring him back so you could argue properly.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.

With a groan, you flopped onto the edge of your bed, elbows braced on your knees as you buried your face in your hands. You sat there like that for a moment, trying to let the tension bleed out of your shoulders, but it wasn’t happening.

Instead, you pushed yourself upright again and started spinning in slow, aimless circles, muttering to yourself all the while. “What a shit show,” you said finally, the words quiet but dripping with annoyance.

You dropped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, arms spread out to the sides as you stared at the ceiling. The adrenaline was fading, leaving you feeling drained and just a little bit trapped.

A few hours had passed, though they felt much longer. You had paced your room, lain on the bed staring at the ceiling, and even contemplated sneaking out just to get away from the buzzing frustration inside you.

Finally, there was a knock on the door.

Sam didn’t wait for a response before pushing it open, leaning against the frame with that exasperated but determined look he always got when dealing with you. “You can come out now.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, I can? How generous of you.”

Sam sighed, but his lips twitched as though fighting a smile. “Just … can you please behave?” He pushed off the doorframe and started walking down the hallway, expecting you to follow.

“Me? Behave?” you echoed, feigning offense as you trailed behind him. “When have I ever done anything but behave?”

Sam turned his head slightly, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes but grinned.

As you neared the library, Sam slowed his pace and leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Be nice,” he said pointedly.

You smiled at him, sweet, saccharine, and entirely fake. “Aren’t I always?”

He didn’t look convinced.

When you entered the library, the tension in the room hit you like a wall. John, Mary, and Dean were sitting at the table, though none of them looked particularly relaxed. Mary offered you a faint smile, Dean’s gaze flickered nervously between you and his father, and John… well, John looked as unreadable as ever.

But you didn’t miss the way Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat like he was bracing for another explosion.

You clapped your hands together, the sound breaking the silence like a crack of thunder. “Great,” you said, planting your hands on your hips as you scanned the room. Your smile was all teeth, fake, but not unfriendly. “Have we all calmed down? What did I miss?”

John stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as though trying to project calm authority. It didn’t quite work—not with Dean’s nervous glances and Mary’s thinly veiled concern.

“I have to apologize for my previous behavior,” John started, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “I wasn’t aware of what you mean to my sons, regardless of your origin or … race.”

His words hung heavy in the air, but he pressed on, his gaze fixed on you. “You kept them safe when I wasn’t around, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

He extended his hand toward you, the gesture formal, almost mechanical.

You looked down at his hand, your fake smile faltering just a fraction. You didn’t miss the way Dean stiffened, his nervousness clear as his eyes darted between you and his father. But there was something else too — hope. Just the smallest flicker of it.

You let out a soft, slow breath through your nose before looking back at John. After a moment of consideration, you reached out and shook his hand.

“I forgive you for hitting me,” you said, your voice calm but cool.

John nodded, his lips curving into a small smile that might have fooled anyone else into thinking it was genuine. But you felt it. Something bitter lurking just beneath the surface, like a bad taste he couldn’t quite hide.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” you added, your grip on his hand tightening for just a second longer than necessary.

For a moment, the room held its breath. You could feel Dean watching you intently, almost as if he expected you to start swinging. You wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to. A good one-on-one with John Winchester would’ve been satisfying on so many levels.

But you didn’t.

Not for him. Not even for yourself.

For Sam and Dean.

You released John’s hand and let it drop back to your side. Your smile returned, sharper this time, though you said nothing more. The tension in the room remained, heavy and unspoken, but you had made your point.

A few days later, things in the bunker had settled into an uneasy quiet, though the tension never quite disappeared. It clung to the edges of every room, especially when John Winchester was there.

You had just come back from the kitchen, a tray balanced carefully in your hands, carrying a few cups of coffee. As you stepped into the map room, your gaze immediately took in the scene: Mary, John, Sam, and Dean were sitting around the table, deep in what looked like forced small talk.

And then, in the middle of the room, there was a sudden flutter of wings.

“Hello,” came Castiel’s calm, gravelly voice as he appeared out of thin air, standing like a statue among the chaos.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, jerking slightly in his chair.

You didn’t miss a beat, walking past Castiel to the table. “Oh hey, Cas,” you said casually, patting his shoulder as you passed by.

“Hey,” Castiel replied, his tone clipped but warm enough.

You didn’t pause long enough to notice the way Dean’s posture stiffened, his nervous energy creeping back into his movements. Instead, you set the tray down on the table, distributing the cups of coffee. One in front of Sam, one in front of John—pausing for just a second longer as you placed his, your eyes meeting his with an observing, deliberate look.

John didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered, brow furrowing faintly, but he said nothing.

Satisfied, you turned and walked around the table, heading toward the bookshelves, feigning interest in their contents as you listened.

“I see you’re having a visitor,” Castiel remarked, his tone neutral as he started up the steps toward the table. His gaze landed on John, studying him with that quiet intensity only an angel could manage.

Sam stood quickly, his movements just a little too purposeful. “Uh, Cas—this is John Winchester. Dad, this is Castiel.” He hesitated, then added under his breath, “Angel of the Lord.”

John, to his credit, didn’t react visibly. He stood up, extending his hand toward Castiel, his movements as deliberate and controlled as always.

“Nice to meet you,” John said, his voice steady.

Castiel shook his hand, though a faint frown creased his brow as his gaze flicked to you for just a second—he could feel the tension in the room too.

And you? You couldn’t help yourself. The words slipped out, smooth and dripping with passive aggression.

“Be careful, John,” you said lightly, turning just enough to meet his gaze. “You don’t want to accidentally slip and hit him, like you did with me. He won’t be as forgiving as I am.”

Dean’s head snapped toward you instantly, his stare sharp and accusing. It was the kind of look that said shut the hell up without him having to say a word.

Castiel’s frown deepened as he looked between you and John, his confusion clear. “Why did you hit her?”

Before John could answer, you shrugged dramatically, smiling as you batted your lashes at Castiel. “Because he’s racist.”

Dean’s death glare could have melted steel, and you felt it burning into the side of your face. The last thing he needed was an angry angel provoked by some stupid comment you made. It was enough to pull you back, slightly.

“Don’t worry, Cas,” you added quickly, holding up a hand in mock reassurance. “It was just an accident. And I’m perfectly fine, as you can see.”

You flashed an over-the-top smile at Castiel, the kind that made it clear you were anything but sincere. The tension in the room spiked again, the passive aggression rolling off you like a wave.

John didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you, hard and unreadable.

Castiel, to his credit, didn’t rise to the bait. He simply tilted his head slightly, as though filing the entire exchange away for later, before turning his attention back to Sam and Dean. “I have news,” he said, his voice shifting back to its usual calm as though nothing had happened.

Relieved by the distraction, Sam and Dean leaned forward, eager to focus on something other than you and John’s little war. Cas explained the new information he’d gathered about the case they’d been working on over the past couple of months, his voice steady and methodical. You stayed quiet by the shelves, though you couldn’t resist the occasional glance toward John, who remained silent, his expression carved from stone.

Once Cas finished, the room fell into an uneasy silence.

“Well,” Cas said finally, straightening and giving Sam a nod. “I’ll continue looking into it.” Without another word, he disappeared, vanishing in the same quiet, fluttering way he’d arrived.

The silence that followed was deafening.

John didn’t say anything. Neither did Sam or Dean. For once, you decided not to push. You turned back toward the bookshelves, biting back the smug smile threatening to cross your face.

___

A week later Sam, Dean, and Mary had some things to look into, that’s why they decided to leave you and John at the bunker.

Mary stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her gaze flicking between you and John with a faint hint of amusement. “You sure I can leave you two here together without someone getting hurt?”

You paused from where you stood at the stove, flipping eggs in a pan, and shot her a quiet nod. “We’ll survive,” you replied dryly, though the edge of your voice carried a hint of humor.

Mary stepped over to John, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before turning to you, offering a small, soft smile. “Take care,” she said warmly.

Your gaze softened just a little. “You too,” you replied quietly. Then, with a smirk, you added, “And if anything goes to shit, call me.”

Mary chuckled, nodding her thanks before disappearing out of the kitchen, her footsteps fading down the hall.

With her gone, the room felt quieter. Heavier.

John leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you. His gaze was steady but curious like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn’t quite understand. You focused on the stove, refusing to let his presence throw you off.

“You want some?” you asked, your voice even, though your shoulders were tight.

“Sure,” John replied simply.

You grabbed two plates, carefully placing the bacon and fried eggs onto them—separate and deliberate—before sliding one across the counter toward him. John accepted it, his expression shifting slightly as he studied the arrangement.

“How did you know that?” he asked, curiosity slipping into his voice as he gestured toward the bacon and eggs.

A small, sharp chuckle escaped you as you turned back to grab your fork. “Well, Dean likes them separately.”

John nodded faintly, the barest hint of understanding passing over his face. He didn’t comment further, and you didn’t offer any more explanations.

With plates in hand, the two of you made your way back into the library. You sat down across from each other at the table, the scrape of chairs and clink of utensils filling the silence as you both started eating.

It was quiet for a while. Too quiet.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I am very thankful for what you’re doing for my sons, you know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “They can be happy to have you around.”

You didn’t look up immediately, but your fork paused mid-motion. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, your expression unreadable but the sharp edge in your gaze unmistakable. You studied him for a moment, then let out a soft breath through your nose.

“Don’t you think we should talk about what’s really bothering you?” John’s tone was calm, but there was a weight behind the words like he’d been holding them in for too long.

You glanced back down at your plate, cutting into your food again with unnecessary precision. “No, actually not.”

John frowned slightly. “Why not?”

“Because I promised Sam and Dean to be nice,” you replied, your voice laced with biting sarcasm. You tilted your head just slightly, a humorless smirk pulling at your lips. “And I mean, I am nice, am I not?”

John hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, I made you breakfast.”

“You made me breakfast,” John repeated thoughtfully.

The words hung in the air for a moment before you snorted, shaking your head, finally looking at him again. “If that isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

John nodded faintly, his expression softening for just a second before his next words came, unflinching and direct. “Yeah, sure. But wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to fake it and were actually… nice? I mean, I’m sure Sam and Dean would like that better. Don’t you think?”

You froze for half a beat, your grip on your fork tightening as your gaze darkened.

John shrugged faintly, unbothered by the rising storm in your expression. “You know, I’m just saying. It just seems a bit egotistical of you.”

That did it.

“Okay,” you replied curtly, the single word snapping from your lips like a whip. You set your fork and knife down with a clink against the plate, your movements sharp and deliberate. You leaned back in your chair as you stared him down.

“You wanna know why I don’t like you, John?” you asked, voice low and edged with anger. “It’s because you’re a piece of shit.”

John’s shoulders stiffened, his face hardening as your words landed, but he said nothing.

“I don’t know if you realize this,” you continued, each word sharper than the last, “but you broke your sons. Not just traumatized them—you broke them. Especially Dean. You turned him into a soldier before he even knew how to be a kid. Before he knew what a normal childhood was. Dean was still a child himself when you put a gun in his hand and told him to protect Sam. Do you have any idea how much that weighs on him? How much that STILL weighs on him?”

John’s voice came quiet, almost bitter, as his jaw tightened. “I did what I had to do. I raised him, didn’t I?”

A bitter, snarky chuckle escaped you as you shook your head. “Raised him?” you sneered. “You didn’t raise him, John. You dumped the weight of your failures onto his shoulders and called it parenting. Dean didn’t get to be a son—he became a replacement for you. A stand-in father for Sam. You forced him to sacrifice everything for your toxic obsession while you chased monsters instead of being there for them.”

You leaned forward, your gaze locked on him, eyes burning with unspoken rage. “And Sam? He ran. He ran as far away from you as he could, and I don’t blame him for it. He had to leave because he couldn’t breathe under you. He couldn’t watch Dean fall apart while you stood there pretending everything was fine.”

Your voice dropped, colder now, every word precise and deliberate. “Dean stayed. He stayed because you convinced him he had to. Because you made him believe that his worth—his entire purpose—was to keep this family from falling apart. Do you know what that does to a person? What it’s still doing to him?”

The words hung in the air like lead, settling deep and heavy. John didn’t say anything. His hands curled into fists against the table, his face unreadable, though his silence spoke volumes.

“You fucked them up, John,” you said, quieter but no less damning. “You taught them that love was conditional. That family was just a duty. You stole their childhood, their safety, and their chance of a normal life. And for what? Your vengeance? Your pride?”

You paused, letting the words settle like a slap to the face. “Dean still jumps at every barked order because you trained him to obey without question. Sam fights tooth and nail against everything you stood for because he’s still trying to unlearn you. You think they’re fine, but they’re not. They carry your mistakes with them every single day.”

You paused for a second. John’s face had paled slightly, his eyes staring somewhere distant as if he could see the damage, you described unfolding in front of him.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you this, but you asked. So, here’s your answer.”

You picked up your fork again, resuming your meal with deliberate, almost dismissive movements, as though the conversation hadn’t just cracked something wide open.

For a long moment, John sat there in silence. He didn’t move, didn’t look up, as though the weight of your words was too much to bear.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough around the edges. “I am sorry.”

The fork paused mid-air as you glanced up at him, your expression shifting—just for a second. You let out a slow breath, setting your fork back down.

“You don’t have to say that to me,” you said softly, your voice calmer now. “Tell it to them. They need to hear it from you.”

John looked at you, and for the first time, you saw something close to regret in his expression. His shoulders sagged, his pride and stubbornness seeming to melt away.

“Stand up for the mistakes you made,” you continued, your voice steady. “And for God’s sake, stop barking orders at them. They’re not your soldiers, they’re your sons. And they deserve better.”

You leaned back slightly, your gaze never wavering. “Respect them. Apologize to them. And for once in your life, let them decide who they want to be.”

John nodded slowly, as though the weight of your words had finally settled into his bones. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I’ll talk to them when they get back.”

You gave him a single, small nod and picked up your fork, the silence between you shifting—still heavy, but somehow different.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was something.

Authors note: It felt so good writing this, I can tell you. John Winchester slander is allowed in the comment section! Let me know how you liked it. ^^

[deanwinchesterscherrypie]

Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing. 

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that. 

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet. 

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home. 

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra. 

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since. 

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be. 

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean. 

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir. 

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change. 

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie. 

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen. 

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen. 

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his. 

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up. 

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why. 

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.” 

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away. 

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate. 

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence. 

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink. 

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands. 

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands. 

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement. 

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.” 

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?” 

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch. 

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place. 

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear. 

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.” 

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while. 

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass. 

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear. 

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling. 

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face. 

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip. 

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in. 

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand. 

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon. 

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more. 

Smack. You just want him to touch you. 

Smack. You’re getting desperate. 

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging. 

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts. 

Smack. Almost there. 

Smack. You’re going to come. 

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry. 

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently. 

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg. 

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you. 

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you. 

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before. 

Two. That one is going to leave a mark. 

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.” 

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.” 

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle. 

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.” 

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock. 

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs. 

“Please.” You push your hips up to him. 

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt. 

“Please touch me.” You ask. 

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light. 

“Yes, sir.” 

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you. 

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot. 

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples. 

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on. 

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed. 

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you. 

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement: 

Property of D.W. 

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”  

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift. 

[pascaloverx]

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

preview chapter two

CHAPTER ONE

You never imagined yourself knocking on Dean Winchester's door. I mean, you don't count having had dreams about him that involved you getting to know each other intimately. But going to his apartment to ask for help wasn't in your plans.

"I need you." You say softly as if telling someone a secret. Maybe your speech sounds like a whisper. Dean's obviously not hearing you properly, because he's humming Livin' On A Prayer as the song plays inside his apartment at full volume.

"What?" Dean says almost shouting as he looks me up and down. He looks confused like he doesn't hear you at all. You then decide to do something. You approach Dean almost seductively and say close to his ear that he won't regret it if he turns down the volume.

"Does your sister know you're here trying to get me into bed?" Dean asks as he turns off the music that was playing. Nothing against Bon Jovi, but seeing Dean turn off the sound for thinking he's going to sleep with you kind of lifts your spirits.

"If I were going to let you fuck me, I wouldn't ask my sister's opinion. I don't think you ask Sam's opinion when you decide to have sex." You speak while still standing, hoping that Dean will notice that he is only in his underwear and change into more decent clothes.

"You come over to my house, make me turn off my music and now I've suggested that I ask my brother if I can have sex. This conversation seems better by the minute." Dean speaks clearly enjoying this moment. You end up looking at his body from top to bottom but as soon as he notices, you turn to face the door.

"I need your help." You say while avoiding looking at Dean. He might have noticed, since he put on some pants. Not that you watched him put it on.

"With what?" Dean asks as you turn to face him. He put on his pants but is still shirtless. But now is not the time for you to notice these things. Even though his body is...

"I need to write steamy scenes in my book. But I just can't do it. It's like I can't think of anything sexy and I need to get this book published soon." The words coming out of your mouth don't seem to fully fit together. I mean, what is wrong with you that you would look to Dean Winchester for help?

"And what do I gain? Helping you will take up a lot of my free time, you know..." He seems too convinced, as if his ego could fill the air in the entire apartment.

"Free time? You mean wasted time. You've been living off your rich mother for I don't know how long. And I intend to pay you for the consultancy." You say everything with a certain pretentiousness in your tone of voice. Somehow, Dean Winchester brought out the worst in you.

"Do you think that just because I have a rich mother my life is easy?" Dean says, getting even closer to you, getting so close that you could smell his perfume invade your nostrils. In fact, Dean Winchester smells like men's perfume and sex.

"I think. Maybe it's not the easiest thing for you but it seems easy. So do it as an personal fulfillment, do it for the money, do it to show your mother that you are more than her son." You say feeling a heavy conscience as you realize that maybe you were rude to Dean, maybe even a little unfair.

"Nice attempt to manipulate me. I'm going to deny the offer and urgently ask you to leave my apartment. I'm accompanied and my visitor should be waiting for me in the room. So there's less you want to insult me ​​more or join me and my visit, I suggest you go to your apartment." Dean looks offended, maybe a little irritated. You look at him a little regretfully.

"I'm sorry if I seemed rude. But I would really like your help and I'm willing to give you whatever you want." You say, desperately trying to appeal to the side you know exists within Dean. He might not even notice, but claiming you're willing to give him whatever he wants is just a lure to make him interested. At least that's what you tell yourself. But it doesn't seem to work, he closes the door just as you're about to cross the hallway that separates his apartment from your sister's. What a disaster, now you'll have to stop being a writer and move on to a new field. You can't live forever with your sister.

"Be in my apartment later. Let's start working on your book. And I'll decide what I get for the help I'm giving you. As you said yourself, you'll give me whatever I want." Dean says as he opens the door to his apartment while you open the door to your sister's apartment. You immediately turn around and hug him. Without any explanation, your first instinct was to run into his arms. And you only realize how strange that is when you see the half-naked woman coming out of Dean's bedroom and staring at the two of you hugging at the door.

"See you later, buddy." You say, giving Dean Winchester a slightly friendly punch on the arm so that his visitor doesn't find it so bizarre for him to be hugging you at the door. He looks at you as if you've lost your mind, and then you quickly leave, entering your sister's apartment, hoping that the partnership with Dean Winchester is a good idea.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

What do you think a relationship between Mary and Sister Winchester would really be like?

In the event that Sister Winchester is clearly not Mary's daughter

John had an affair with a normal woman and although we know that he never forgot Mary, he really came to care about the Winchester sister's mother, until she died or left. How would Mary take finding out that John was with someone else? Or I think the question is whether I could come to terms with it even though Sister Winchester is a constant reminder that John was with someone else.

How would Dean and Sam tell this to Mary?

Dean and Sam try not to talk about Sister Winchester's mother in front of Mary or talk about her as if she was nobody in John's life (never in a cruel way) so as not to hurt Mary's feelings, in the same way that Sam and Dean tried not to talk in front of Mary about what a bad father John was and that bothers Sister Winchester because she's like "she's my mom, if you don't want her Mary knows about her, that's fine, but don't talk about her as if she were nobody."

And which brings me to my last question.

If somehow Sister Winchester's mother were alive, do you think Sister Winchester would spend more time with her mother than with the boys when Mary returns?

What would the relationship between Mary and Sister Winchester's mother be like?

How would Dean and Sam take it if the Winchester sister wanted to go live with her mother after Mary returns (and before she leaves) so as not to make things awkward?

I think the boys would be a little heartbroken when their sister tells them "I want to stay with mom."

(I’m gonna write this like a reader insert so that I don’t have to keep writing sister Winchester 😅)

Ok, so first I don’t really think John could get super close to another woman, he was too obsessed with Mary, but for the sake of argument let’s say he did.

I don’t think she would still be around—if you could’ve had a safe life, John/Dean wouldn’t let you live with them, they’d want you to stay with your mother. Unless of course your mother didn’t want you, and left you with John.

This is how I think it would go down—you got kidnapped with Sam, so Mary doesn’t meet you right away. Dean, ever the avoidant one, doesn’t tell Mary about his little sister, so her meeting you is quite a shock. When Dean and Mary bust in to save Sam, she sees you tied up right next to him. After an awkward yet excited greeting with Sam, Mary starts to wonder about you.

“I wonder how many other hunters they have stuck in here,” she says. “I mean, this is just a kid! What could they want from her?”

“They don’t have anyone else,” Sam says. “They wanted information on other hunters.”

“Well, then how did they get her?” Mary asks.

“She…she was in the bunker with me,” Sam says. You haven’t said anything—you know who this is, you’ve seen her in pictures, and you’re too shy and shocked to say anything.

“Mom,” Dean cuts in. “She’s our sister.”

The ride back to the bunker is super awkward. Once they get there, Dean tells you to go back to your room for a bit so he can talk to Mary.

Dean explains about your mother, but he makes it sound like she wasn’t anyone important. He’s trying to dampen the blow for Mary, but in doing so he makes your mom seem like a nobody. Little does he know that you didn’t actually go to your room.

“Hey!” You speak up for the first time since Mary showed up. “You don’t have to talk about her like that, Dean. If you don’t want Mary to know about her that’s fine, but don’t talk about her like she was nobody!”

“Hey,” Sam would interrupt, trying to sooth you. “Let’s take a look at you in the bathroom, ok? I know they hurt you, we should clean up some of those injuries.”

You’d let Sam take you away now that you’d said what you wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” you said to Sam while he fixed up your wounds. “I’m not trying to mess anything up with your mom, I’m glad you got her back, I just…Dean was talking about my mom like she didn’t matter.”

“It’s ok,” Sam said. “I know you didn’t want to ruin anything. And I know it must’ve hurt hearing Dean talk like that. Dean…he’s always been in a bit of denial about your mom. You know, dad was always so obsessed with getting revenge for mom, that Dean thinks that that means he couldn’t care about anyone else. But he did, he did care about your mom kiddo.”

Mary would stay away from you for the most part. She doesn’t like you, and deep down everyone knows it. I mean, she came from the past, so as far as she remembers, she was married to John like yesterday. So the idea that she died and he moved on and got with someone else, and right in front of her is John’s child with some other woman?—that has to hurt. (I’m playing devil’s advocate here but in reality I really don’t like Mary).

I think Mary would probably belittle your ideas, like—

“Well she’s a child. She doesn’t understand how this works.”

And Sam would very gently remind her, “Mom, she’s been hunting for a while.”

“Not nearly as long as I have.”

Because of this, you’d speak up less and less before hunts. In fact, you talk less in the bunker in general, because whenever you do Mary gives you this side eye, like she’d forgotten you were still there.

It doesn’t become too much of a problem at first, because pretty soon Mary leaves to “get some space” (one of the main reasons I hate her) and “adjust” or whatever. As soon as she’s gone, the boys notice the difference in you. Your more confident in the bunker, and you talk a lot more. You always shut up, though, whenever Mary comes to visit.

You never talk about this with the brothers, because you’d never try to hurt their relationship with Mary.

So back to your mom—let’s say she’s alive, but she left you with John. You never wanted to find her before, because she left you with John because she didn’t want to put herself or her family (she has a lot of siblings and friends that she’s super close to) in danger. John told you all about it so that you would know that it wasn’t about you—your mom wanted you, but it was too complicated with the possibility that demons knew about you. You wanted to leave her be, but with Mary around you got desperate. You finally tell the boys—

“I want to go find my mom.”

They’re heartbroken that you want to leave, but they won’t make you stay. They know why you’re leaving, after all, and they can’t do anything about it—Mary’s their mom, and you’re their little sister, and they can’t pick between you.

So you go after your mom and find her—she’s happy to see you and know you’re ok, and she lets you stay with her, but after a while you start to feel unwelcome there, too. You know you’re probably putting her in danger, but you just don’t know what to do.

Just when you’re at the end of your rope, the brothers come and find you. They ask you to come back.

“Mary isn’t around much anymore,” Dean says, and you notice he sounds bitter. “She…she was working with the British Men of Letters.”

This comes as a shock to you, but you can’t deny that it feels great to come back to the bunker with just your big brothers. Of course they kind of-ish reconcile with Mary after a while, but since she betrayed them like that they stand up for you now—after all, you’ve never betrayed them like that. So the first time Mary tries to shut you down, Dean snaps at her—

“She has more right to be at this table than you, so let her speak.”

And Mary doesn’t do it again.

When John comes back, you don’t know what to do. This day is about the Winchesters, and as much as you wanted to see your dad again, you didn’t want to wreck anything. Your hiding out in your room for a while when John notices.

“Where’d your little sister go?”

“I think she’s in her room,” Sam says, and tells John where it is.

John’s the one who goes to find you. You’re expecting Sam or Dean when you hear a knock, so when John comes in you’re surprised.

“Hey baby.” John smiles at you. “What are you doing in here?”

“I-I didn’t want to mess up your family day,” you say.

“You’re my family, too,” John says, coming over and sitting on your bed. “I…I know things are probably a little strange with Mary back, but…but I want to see you, too. You’re my baby girl, always. Ok?”

You hug John, and he laughs.

“Ok.”

[fanfictionalraven]

Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly. 

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. “Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing. 

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other.  There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks. 

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all.  “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table. 

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead. 

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something  I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

**

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment. 

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

birth plan

masterlist

summary: you’re pregnant with castiel’s baby… or is it babies?

pairing: castiel x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.5k

warnings: pregnancy, language, medical inaccuracies i think (i’ve never been pregnant so i don’t think i describe the feeling well)

timeline: this is set in no particular season/episode but there are spoilers for the later seasons (certain characters).

author’s note: i’m basing this off a dream i had - before said dream i never even thought of cas this way at all (gotta love that subconscious, huh?) anyway, i couldn’t stop thinking of this dream so here’s a cas fic :)

when you found out you were pregnant with castiel’s baby you freaked out. not the expected ‘holy fuck there’s a living thing growing inside me’ but more like ‘holy fuck i’m gonna die in a few months cause there’s a tiny angel in my uterus’.

you cried while telling castiel, you were terrified. he assured you he wouldn’t let you die, he promised you would be okay and that the two of you could raise the baby together. if you did live, you had no clue how to raise a kid, or if you even wanted to. you had been raised a hunter and you hated it. when you were six your biggest fear was tornadoes but by the time you were seven your biggest fear was being torn apart by one of the monsters you had learned to fight.

castiel was so happy about the baby, so excited. he knew you would be a fantastic mother and he couldn’t wait to have a baby with you. he knew the baby would be loved unconditionally by so many people, too; you, him, dean, sam, jack, mary, and eileen - all of whom lived in the bunker.

as the months went by the pains grew almost unbearable. you took time away from hunting and had to stay in the bunker. castiel always made sure someone would be in the bunker with you (preferably not alone with jack, who tended to ask questions that scared you - “what if the baby is like me and you have to push a full sized person out” for example). most days cas would stay right next to you but on the rare occasion he needed to be on a hunt, you’d be alone with either eileen, mary, or one of the brothers (rowena visited a couple times, but that was more for trying to find some magical tylenol for the immense pain). you didn’t mind castiel going on hunts, in fact you wished he’d go on more so you wouldn’t feel like you were holding him back.

one morning you woke up and the pain was horrible - it felt like the baby was stabbing you from the inside. castiel tried healing you, but it was no use. the two of you decided an ultrasound was necessary.

“what?” you practically screamed, your eyes wide with fear.

“there must be some kind of mistake?” castiel knotted his brows and stared at the black and white screen in shock.

“no mistake, three heartbeats,” the doctor smiled slightly, wanting to make you feel better, but it obviously did nothing.

“cas i can’t push three kids out!” you whispered. he was holding your left hand in his and standing beside you, his right arm was draped over your shoulder. “cas- castiel i can’t! i- i’m not strong enough! i won’t!” tears were streaming down your face when you turned away from the screen and to the angel.

“could you give us a minute?” cas asked the doctor, she nodded and left. “honey it’s gonna be alright.”

“three baby angels, cas! three! how- how the fuck am i supposed to push three angels out of me, cas?” you were practically sobbing at this point. “i- i’m gonna die, aren’t i?”

“no! no you won’t! i promise you, i will not let you die,” he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back lovingly. “i know this must be scary, triplets is- it’s gonna be painful.” he kissed the crown of your head.

“but three babies! i mean if i do, by some miracle, manage to give birth and survive, how are we gonna raise three kids, cas?” you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him as close to you as you could.

“well, we do have four adults and a nephilim excited to help,” he answered, causing you to laugh lightly. it’s true, you had all the support you could need.

cas drove the two of you back to the bunker and you were met with said four adults and nephilim immediately asking where you had been. the five of them were on a hunt and got back while you and cas were at the ob/gyn. you hadn’t left the bunker in months so they had assumed the worst.

you told them the news and they all reacted differently than you and cas. they were so excited, it made you realized they really wanted to help raise the kids. (infact, they had all began thinking of names and had cleaned out the room next to your’s and cas’ for the babies.)

castiel knew that your pregnancy wouldn’t last as long as a normal pregnancy so he wanted to come up with a birth plan. dean purchased new burner phones for each person that were never to be silenced or turned off and the only people who had the numbers were the seven of you. the second you went into labor, someone near you (or you, if you could) would call castiel immediately. if possible they would also notify the others.

another couple months or so went by. you were due any day now - but you had been due any day for over two weeks. you had gotten somewhat used to the pain and rowena had come up with a simple spell with some herbs that you’d mix with your tea every couple hours to help with the pain. garth had moved into the bunker temporarily - he was a trained doula after having to deliver werewolf pups. rowena moved in temporarily too, but that was more for moral support and pain management.

“cas you haven’t left the bunker in over a month! go on this hunt,” you assured him. it was a hunt close by and he was going to take jack with him.

“promise you won’t go into labor til i get back?”

“i won’t let these kiddos leave,” you smile, patting your stomach playfully. he gave you a peck on the lips before leaving with jack.

a couple hours in, you began getting long, sharp pains every few minutes. rowena was the one who recognized the pains as contractions.

“you’re going into labor, we need to get you to the birth room.” she took your your hand gently but you whipped it away.

“no, no i promised cas i’d wait for him,” you shook your head. “the babies are just gonna have to stay put for a whi- ah!” you scrunched your face in pain, holding your stomach.

“okay, we’ll get cas on the phone, we can pray for jack - they’ll be here before you know it,” she tried to reason with you and motioned you to follow her. you shook your head vigorously and didn’t move your feet, absolutely terrified of what was about to happen.

“holy shit,” your eyes widened, cloudy with tears. “my water- i think my water just broke!” you both looked down. “that’s- that’s broken water!”

“exactly hun, you’re going into labor you need to let me help you to the birth room, okay?”

“oh- okay,” you nodded and she helped you to the room. she called out that you were going into labor as she walked you over.

about a month ago the brothers and jack came home to the bunker with a hospital bed from the maternity ward. you didn’t ask how they got it, but you were grateful they did. everyone helped set up the room; towels, blankets, a mini freezer for ice chips, and just about anything you might need while in labor and giving birth.

sam and dean carefully helped you onto the bed. mary called cas and within seconds he and jack were in the room.

“cas!” you smiled, relieved to see him.

“hey, y/n, how are you?” he asked, rushing to your side and tightly holding your hand.

“i’m in pain, cas, i’m about to push three celestial beings out my vagina!” you said dryly.

“right, right, okay it’ll be okay, though,” he kissed your forehead. “you’re gonna be okay. jack’s here and he will keep you alive and well.”

“okay,” you whispered.

“time to start pushing, y/n,” garth announced.

within the hour you had pushed all three babies out. three identical baby boys; with cas’ piercing blue eyes and your winning smile. you were absolutely exhausted, but you were alive. you were holding one baby, cas was holding another, and garth was holding the third.

“so, what’re we naming the little guys?” cas asked, a huge smile on his face and his eyes not moving away from his new baby boy.

“this one’s sam,” you smiled down at the tiny being in your arms. “he’s the biggest.”

“then that makes this little guy dean, he’s a smallest,” cas laughed a little in response. dean would’ve been annoyed at the height joke but he was so honored you were naming a kid after him.

“what about this little guy?” garth asked.

“bobby,” you smiled.

no one went on any hunts for almost two weeks. they all stayed and helped with the babies. baby dean would be named dean jack y/l/n, baby sam would be named samuel charles y/l/n, and baby bobby would be named robert garth y/l/n.

[marie-swriting]

A Part Of The Family - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You go on your first hunt with your father John and your half-brother Dean, hoping you'll finally be able to prove you're a true Winchester to your father.

Warnings : half-sister!reader, Y/N is 15, John is a shitty father, angst, feeling like you don't belong in the family, killing vampires, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language so tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.1k

French version

Prompt : PL n°1, n°10 "We could have prevented this"

“What are the rules ?” John asks you with a harsh voice.

“Always be on alert and ready to attack, kill first and ask questions later.” you answer, determined.

“Good, don’t forget you have to cut their head or they’ll still be able to attack. As it’s your first time on the field, you stay close to me or Dean, right ?”

“Yes, sir.”

John hands you a machete before closing the trunk of the Impala. You feel a knot in your stomach as you realise you’re only a few minutes away from the most dangerous moment of your life. Your hands start shaking, you tighten your grip on your weapon, hoping it’ll give you more courage. Rapidly, you look up and see Dean’s eyes on you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. You give him a quick smile but the fear can still be read on your face. When you’re finally ready, you start entering the vampire nest.

You’ve been on their trails for a few days now and thanks to your personal researches, you found where they’re hiding. Now, you hope you’ll be able to kill these monsters without making a mistake, you want to show John he did a good thing by taking you out of the foster system after Sam left for University. Indeed, when the younger Winchester decided to leave the family business, John didn’t like being one hunter short so he came to get you, knowing he’ll have your custody easily because your mom died at your birth. Until he’d come to your foster family, you didn’t know your father’s identity, let alone that you had two big brothers. When you met them, an immense amount of joy had filed you, you thought you’d finally belong to a real family. John had said to your foster parents he came to have your custody because he just discovered your existence. He made a beautiful speech to them on the importance of having his daughter in his life. When he had pronounced those words, your heart had burst with love, but reality caught you up quickly when he immediately put an emotional distance between you before starting your hunter training. You knew it wouldn’t be easy but you want to prove to him he can count on you during hunts so you make sure to always give your best. However, John is demanding, you feel like you’ll never meet his expectations and because of the pressure you can make some mistakes. Fortunately, Dean knows to be patient with you, he protects you from John's reprimands.

When you’re in the old building, you’re faced with a heavy silence. It doesn’t feel like there’s any threat on the horizon while you’re getting deeper into the nest. You keep walking discreetly and glancing in every corner until you find some kind of cage with a prisoner inside. With a glance, you recognise Jake, a teenager your age who’s been helping you to find the vampires. He had started searching for them before you arrived ; his sister was one of their victims. Together, you had put your skill to good use, you with your supernatural knowledge and him with his knowledge of the city and its residents. When you see him, you lower your machete and run toward the cage.

“Jake ! My God, you’re okay ? Did they do anything to you ?” you question, examining his body quickly with your eyes.

“You know him, Y/N ?” John interrogates.

“He helped me to find the nest.” you inform before turning back to your friend. “You’re okay, Jake ?”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re getting you out of here, don’t worry.” Dean states while starting to force the lock.

“Kid, do you know where the vampires are ?” John questions with a dry tone.

“No, I just regained consciousness, actually. Thanks.” Jake says when Dean finally frees him.

Jake gets out of his small prison stumbling. You catch him when he’s losing his balance. You’re about to ask him if everything is fine when you see pointy teeth coming out of his gum. Surprised, you don’t have the reflex to lift your machete up. Dean and John are about to intervene when other vampires leave their hiding place. You finally push back Jake, scared but he comes back to you again. You try to fight him with your weapon but Jake breaks your arm, forcing you to drop it. Dean hears your cry of pain and turns his head to you. He sees Jake about to bite you in the neck when Dean runs to you and cuts Jake’s head without a second thought. You’re too stunned from what’s just happened to move.

“Everything okay ?” Dean questions, preoccupied.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

John growls angrily, making yours and Dean’s head turn to him. Dean leaves you to help John. You pick your machete up from the ground and try to at least hurt some vampires. Not able to use your dominant hand, you have even less strength to cut heads. By some miracles, probably due to adrenaline, you cut the head of one blood-drinker. In spite of yourself, you stare at the body and their head, not believing you’re the cause of it. Snapping out of it, you look up and see that most of the vampires are dead. John is handling the Alpha vampire while Dean seems to lose his fight with another monster as he’s struggling to get their fangs away from his neck. You run to him and cut the vampire’s head with all the strength you have. When Dean understands he’s not in danger anymore, he sets his gaze on you, proud to see you were able to save him. You can’t help but smile lightly as you realise that, for a first hunt, you did pretty well. With your valid hand, you help him to stand up while John finally kills the Alpha vampire. You look at John, hoping to see he’s happy or at least relieved to know you and Dean are alive and almost not hurt, beside your broken arm, but it’s an angry John who comes your way.

“What the hell was that ? We got ourselves in an ambush because of your stupidity ! How could you not understand Jake was a vampire when he was helping you ? Don’t tell me you didn’t even think about checking him before telling him everything !”

“He… I…” you stutter, making John even more mad.

“Answer !”

“He told me he was looking for the vampires, too but he didn’t know how to attack them.” you explain, feeling ashamed.

“And you didn’t think it was weird he knew that much ?”

“He said he’d been researching for two months so it seemed normal to me.” you defend yourself and John sighs to contain his anger.

“Damn it, Y/N, that’s unbelievable ! We could have prevented this if you had some common sense !”

“Dad, she’s still learning. It’s okay.” Dean intervenes with a calm voice.

“Not when she puts us in danger ! We could have died and she has a broken arm. She should have done better !”

While listening to John’s reproach, you lower down your head. On second thought, the hunt went worse than you thought. You put your loved ones in danger and you disappointed John. it’s going to be even harder for you to find your place in your little family and you hate yourself for that. John is right, you should have done better.

“We’re all alive and they are all dead. It’s a win.” your brother insists.

“I don’t care if we did well ! She should have thought like a hunter.”, John retorts before taking you by your shoulder with strength, forcing you to look at him with a wince, “You better not do that again, next time, use your head.”

“Yes, sir.”

John sighs, letting go of your shoulder. Dean has a quick peek at you to make sure you’re okay, you give him a quick nod to reassure him, but your glistening eyes don’t convince him.

“Come on,” John starts, “we have to go to the hospital for your arm, we can’t fix it. Another waste of time because of your stupidity.”

“I’m sorry.” you breathe, ready to cry in any second.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t change anything. And get those tears out of your eyes, half Winchester or not, Winchesters don’t cry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your shoulders drop when you follow John while Dean looks at you with compassion. He knows what it’s like to fight for John’s approval, it’s very rare to gain it, even for him it’s complicated while he does everything John tells him.

In the Impala, John doesn’t say a word, too angry he doesn’t even take a quick glance at you, as for Dean, he wishes he could reassure you, but he doesn’t want to get John more mad. You hold your arm to minimise the pain on the way while you think back to John’s words. Among every thing he reproached you about, his last sentence hurt you the most. Since he came to get you, you know John treats you differently than Dean, he doesn’t see you as a part of the family. Yet, it doesn’t stop you from feeling your heart burst out in pain every time he reminds you of it when he specifies your only Dean’s half-sister or when he refuses you calling him ‘dad’, that one hurts the most.

When you arrive at the hospital, there aren't a lot of people, surprisingly so you just have to wait an hour and a half to be taken in charge of. When your cast is on your arm, you go back to the motel still in silence. You bite your lips, stressed while you’re searching for something to say to rectify your mistakes but you don’t really know John, you ignore what you should say. When you walk through the door of your motel’s bedroom, John points the small kitchen table to you. Reluctant, you walk toward it without a word and sit. Dean starts following you but John orders him to get cleaned up. Knowing it’s not the time to challenge him, Dean obeys. John stays on his feet in front of you, towering you with his height. Instinctively, you look down on your fingers, fidgeting with them until John starts talking.

“I hope you realise what you did was dangerous.”

“Yes, I won’t do it again, promise.”

“You better ! You could have died and so could have your half-brother. At least, you did kill some vampires but apart from that, you ruined this whole hunt ! If you don’t want to go back to your foster family, you better be more useful next time. I don’t need a deadweight but a hunter.” he rumbles.

“I’ll do better next time.” you assure him, determined.

“We’ll see in a few months because with your bullshit, you got yourself a broken arm. You’ll be in charge of the research and when you’ll be able to train again, we’ll get back to it and this time, I’ll be more strict. You need to learn correctly, I can’t have a kid who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” John spats, emphasising on the word ‘kid’, hurting you once more. “Don’t make me regret my decision to get you. And get that sad look out of your face, I can’t waste my time with weak people either.”, he orders and you try to get a grip on yourself, “I’m going to the bar.” he finishes, walking away from you. 

Without a glance, John leaves the room. When you hear the door slam shut, you jump. Tears filling your eyes in an instant. You try to hold them back but the more you blink, the harder it is to prevent them from falling. In spite of yourself, a tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away quickly, hoping Dean didn’t see anything because he just got out of the bathroom. You take deep breaths, trying to cool down your emotions. Dean delicately puts a hand on your shoulder and kneels down in front of you. 

“Hey, kid, you’re okay ?”

Contrary to John, the word ‘kid’ in Dean’s mouth seems affectionate. You see in his eyes he’s genuine, but you refuse to show you’re weak for another second. You clear your throat before looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah, just tired of the day. John went to a bar.”

“Just you and me, then ? What do you say about going to the Burger in front of the motel ?” he proposes with a smile.

“I’m not really hungry and I wouldn’t like John to get even more mad because he won’t find us when he’ll get back.”

“He’ll be in that bar for some time, don’t worry, besides, you need to recharge your battery, you did your first hunt !” he states, hoping it’ll cheer you up.

“What a victory it was !” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You got through it with only a broken arm and it was a vampire nest, I call that a victory. C’mon.”

Dean helps you to stand up from your chair. He puts back on his jacket and takes his wallet before inviting you to leave the motel.

At the Burger place, you almost don’t eat anything. You swallow only some French fries but don’t touch your hamburger while Dean devours everything in a heartbeat. Dean doesn’t start a conversation, guessing you need some silence after everything John told you. Dean knows he wasn’t kind with you the second time he reprimanded you with the small part he was able to hear through the bathroom walls. Furthermore, Dean and you have been knowing each other only for a few months now, he ignores if in this kind of situation, you’d rather talk or stay on your own. Just to be safe, he prefers to stay close to you without being oppressive so that's what he’s currently doing. When he’s finally done with his meal, he asks for a doggy bag for yours and goes to pay. On the way back, you don’t see the Impala, which reassures you because you know you still have some time off before John’s return. Entering the room, you take your stuff and close yourself in the bathroom. When you’re ready to go to sleep, you lay on your bed, your back facing Dean who’s on his own bed watching TV. You try to sleep but John’s words keep haunting your mind. The more you think back about the hunt, the more you realise how naive you were. Mentally, you’re calling yourself names, telling yourself that because of your mistakes you lost what little esteem John had for you. Feeling your tears again, you try to breathe slowly. You can’t cry, especially with Dean next to you. He can’t see how weak you are or you'll go down in his estimation as well and it’s the last thing you want. Despite your tries to be discreet, you sniff, drawing Dean’s attention to you. At first, he doesn’t think too much about it, but when he hears your heavy breath and your sniffing several times, he gets up from his bed and comes to you. He sits down next to you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. Feeling his presence, you don’t dare to move, waiting for him to scold you.

“Wanna talk about it ?” he questions softly.

“There’s nothing to say.” you state.

“Y/N, I know how his words can affect someone.”

“He’s right, I’ve been stupid, I should have been a better hunter.”

“You’re fifteen and you’re still learning.” Dean retorts, “You were naive, it’s true, but a few months ago, you still thought vampires were some kind of legend from Transylvania, not the reality. You can’t be perfect from the start. You were bound to make mistakes on your first hunt, you can’t be mad at yourself for that. Believe me, I made worse mistakes on my first hunts”, he tries to reassure you but you’re still silent, “Y/N, could you look at me ?”

“No, I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” you refuse, ashamed.

“Why would I think that ?”

“Winchesters don’t cry. Even if I’m not a real one.” you say, repeating John's words.

Dean sighs, trying to find something to say. He hates the way John’s words already got into  your head. He wishes he could reassure you like a big brother should but he’s still facing your back, not wanting to confront him. He knows he shouldn't take it personally but knowing you think he could act like John tightens his heart.

“I know I’m not well placed to say this,” he starts, hesitating, “but you can cry. Before being hunters, we’re humans.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you like I disappointed John.” you whisper, sniffing.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me and as for John, he’ll get over it, you can trust me. When you’ll be fully trained, he’ll see how excellent of a hunter you are.” Dean affirms.

“If he didn’t send me back to my foster family by then.” you add.

“I won’t let that happen.”, your big brother states, determined, “Now that I know I have a little sister, I can assure you you’re stuck with me as long as you decide otherwise.”

“Half-sister.” you correct, John’s voice still echoing in your head.

“In other words, my sister. You’re a part of the family.” Dean insists and you feel a new tear rolling down your cheek.

“Why are you so nice to me ? You didn’t even know I existed six months ago, you have  every right to ignore me.” you question with a trembling voice.

“I just told you, we’re family, I care about you.”

Without responding, you turn around before throwing yourself in his arms. All the tears you’ve been holding back for the past few months finally roll down your cheeks. Feeling your shoulders shaking, Dean holds you closer against him. He strokes your back, inviting you to let all your emotion leave your body. His heart breaks a bit more when he realises how much you’ve been holding back to at least satisfy John a bit. He knows the pain all too well so that night, he makes sure you know he’ll always be there to support you. Your head still hiding in the crook of his neck, you stay in his arms, accepting for the first time the comfort of your big brother.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[porcelian]

warnings: mention of topics such as sa and misogyny.

this is unlike my regular posts, but i had to write at least one paragraph on it. im continuing to watch supernatural (stopped at like season 6).

the misogyny and poor handle of the sa in this show is astonishing to me. i'd like to apologise to the women in this show that have basically no personality and ambition in this show (except for jo maybe) and sorry to sam too.

i've heard it gets worse from here. it's almost like the women are only there to somehow add on the mens characters. everyone of them are a "love interest" of dean. i love him, like really, but he digs himself into a deeper and deeper whole every season.

how sams sa hasn't been mentioned even once is just crazy.

a woman has not touched the writing room, apparently.