#moc!dean x you

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

(Dean Winchester x Reader Masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A hunter believes it is his job to bare the Mark of Cain and suffer alone. It's Dean's destiny to kill his enemies and save the world no matter how vast the oceans of blood will grow. Sam, of course, refuses to let his brother do this alone and he is on the desperate search to find someone who can help his brother before he changes for the worst. When Castiel tells Sam about a rumor of a girl who is the direct descendent of Cain, he begins the hunt for her. He hopes you will be able to help him find a way to subside Dean's changes before he loses his brother forever.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: SPN spoilers pertaining to seasons nine and ten. SPN level of violence, gore, blood, torture, which may not be suitable for all audiences.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: 09.12.23

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: 11.09.23

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 5

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 6

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 7

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 8

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 9

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 10 (final)

[lostgirl677]

Nothing can stop me from loving you part.2

MoC!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Platonic!Sam Winchester x PlatonicFem!Reader

Established relationship

Masterlist

Part.1

A few weeks had passed, and I could tell Sam was as on edge as I was. He even convinced some douchebag to seal a deal with a crossroad demon to try to catch the red-eyed asshole. But all he managed to get was an arm in a sling. On my side, I contacted every hunter we knew around the country to try to gather information. But it was mostly useless. It was a race against time, and we were obviously losing. We knew that Crowley wasn’t alone in this. He had a whole crew of assholes with him. I  tried to summon Crowley and some of his lackeys, but the assholes never showed up. Even the various tracking spells with Rowena never worked. And to top it all, my dreams were plagued with weird changing images of a bar, cowboy hats and this shitty song “I’m too sexy”. Dean had finally managed to drive me crazy. I was losing my marbles at this point. 

Today wasn’t different from the others. If doing research in the hope of finding something useful could finally lead to something, it was mostly infuriating. I took the computer and a selection of books about demon invocation and went to the library. After many hours of leafing through each book, knowledge seemed to pass over my head without ever getting into it. An exasperated sigh escaped my lips as I dropped my head in my hands. “It’s useless. I won’t find anything useful in there.”, I whispered, completely desperate. I stayed in this position for a few minutes, or maybe hours. I couldn’t tell. But if the roles were reversed, Dean would turn the world upside down to find me. He would never surrender. And I loved him way too much to give up that easily. So I raised my head, wiped some stray tears, and tried to do more research. 

But reading for the hundredth time the same sentence was a signal that I couldn‘t focus anymore. Instead, my mind decided to wander away from the dusty books. And, even though it was too late to think about it, I couldn’t help but torture myself about the what-ifs. If I had stopped Dean altogether from fighting Metatron in the first place with a spell from Rowena, maybe we wouldn’t be in this crap? Perhaps, if I stayed with Dean as intended that night instead of leaving him alone, I could have stopped Crowley before he ran away with Dean. Well, maybe not stopping him, but at least delaying him a little and trying to get some sense in Dean’s mind. But I couldn’t afford to waste my time with the actions I didn’t do. It was a dangerous spiral that should never be explored. So, in order to regain the handle of the situation, I tried to focus on the things I could control. Which means thinking of the various tactics we could use to find Dean. 

After some plotting against Crowley, I decided to phone Cas for the first time since Dean’s death. I was still a bit embarrassed about my cries for help, knowing that I was bothering him with a situation he couldn’t improve. I took a deep breath as I tried to ponder whether I should call him or not. But I already clicked on the phone icon without even thinking. As the phone rang, I secretly hoped to end up on the voicemail. It rang a bit and before I could think of hanging up, I heard his deep voice. “Y/N?” I heard him say, a bit surprised. “Hey, Cas. How are you?” There was a bit of silence before I heard him clear his throat. “It is complicated to manage without my grace. But it is also difficult to repair all the damages Metatron caused but we are working things out. What about you with Dean?” 

I hesitated a bit before replying “ Well, it’s pretty hard. He could be anywhere and doing god knows what at the moment. Plus, Sam is acting recklessly now. I’m scared, Cas. I don’t know what to do. " "We’re going to find him, don’t worry. As soon as I’m done with this celestial issue, I’ll come to help you.” I could hear that he was sincere, that he truly loved Dean as much as we did.” Thank you, Cas. Also, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry that I haven't called you since his death.” I wanted to add something else but my voice shattered a bit. “I am not mad at you, Y/N. I understand. And you don’t have to be embarrassed about your distress, it is a normal human feeling in these circumstances. Just know that your cries and prayers weren’t ignored, that they broke my heart and shook me to my core. I am sorry that I was not able to do more.” His voice wavered a bit while saying this. “Take care, Y/N. Call me anytime you need.” “Thank you, Cas. Take care too.” And he hung up the phone.

After the phone call, I decided to busy myself with more research. But again, my mind always ended up circling with the worst-case scenarios, this time. Crowley had a precise reason to revive Dean, and it scared me. And since there was no way Dean could have willingly left with Crowley, there had to be some kind of mind control or something. What if Crowley used Dean to be his personal hitman? What if he used him as a bargain with one of our enemies? Hell he could even use him as a male stripper to gain money! It wasn’t even the worst option there, but everything was possible when Crowley was involved. He could have taken him out of the country, for that matter. He could even have killed him if his project were finalized. It made me close my eyes to repress undesirable tears. Slowly, I pushed the computer away. All of this mess was giving me a killer migraine. 

Timeskip 

It was late when I heard the front door of the bunker. Sam was going down the stairs, his arms full of files. I immediately rushed to help him. The bags under his eyes became darker than the day before and his hair was messy. He looked so exhausted, just like me. He glanced at me and gently smiled. “Thanks, Y/N.” I smiled too. “No problem. I won’t let you carry everything in your state. Also, I made dinner. I’ll heat it for you if you want.” A warm smile illuminated his face. “Thank you, I’m starving.” We put all the files on the library’s table and made our way to the kitchen. Once inside the room, Sam began to set the table for the both of us and once dinner was warm, we both ate while making small talk. “I’m sure that's how Dean knew you were the one. Super caring and your cooking is heavenly.” His remark warmed my heart and broke it at the same time. “Thank you. I still remember the first time he tasted my pistachio pasta sauce.” Sam laughed. “I thought that he would propose right away. I must admit that your dish was incredible.” There was a pause before he talked again. “I also remember all the pep talks I gave to him to encourage him to make a move. Strangely enough, he can be super smooth with a random girl. But with you? A complete dork. He looked like a middle schooler trying to ask his crush out.” I laughed a little. “Who would have thought, indeed?” But my smile faltered quickly and I almost dropped my fork, no longer hungry. Sam noticed but didn’t say a word. Instead, he just sent me a reassuring smile and the rest of the meal was silent.

The next day, I woke up with a start after an intense dream of a guy kidnapping Sam. That weird guy wanted to kill Dean. Those strange dreams happened almost every night, and I couldn’t understand why. Was it a sort of trauma? I couldn’t understand what it was, but it was becoming scary. As I took in my surroundings, I realized that I had slept again on the floor in the middle of a stack of books and that someone had wrapped a blanket around me. The pain in my back didn’t go unnoticed by my dazed state. I slowly stretched my limbs, trying to not knock over the piles of books. Getting up was rarely this hard. Well, except for those once in a blue moon lazy mornings with Dean…Once I stood on both my feet, I prepared myself for another day of fruitless research.

It was around 10 AM when Rowena crashed into the bunker. She seemed happy this morning, not phased by my surprised expression at all. “I found another spell”, she said as she put a heavy stack of books on the table with a loud thud. “It’s a very  ancient one that I will adapt to the modern days.” The spells had failed so many times that I was past the excited state. When she saw my lack of reaction, she added, “Well, dear. I have a wee bit of hope that this spell will work.” I raised an eyebrow and replied,  “You said that the last time. And the other times before that one. And I still don’t know where Dean is.” Wow, it came out harsher than I intended to. I knew that she was doing what she could. But I couldn’t help but feel on edge with all the useless magic crap at this point. Even if I knew she was a bit upset, she still had her sassy expression when she replied, “Being a witch is not just looking fabulous and flying on a broomstick, dearie. It’s also doing research and trying spells. That means trials and errors as well.” She was right, of course, but I was desperate for answers. “I’m sorry, Rowena. You’re right. I didn’t have to lash out at you like that.” She just patted my shoulder and threw me a little smile. Unlike the brothers, my relationship with Rowena wasn’t that strained. 

“Are you ready to perform?” she asked. Deep down, I wasn’t ready because the sole thought of failing again drove me crazy. But you can’t know until you try, right? So I just replied, “Yeah. Let’s get ready. What do you need for this one?”  She looked at a list in her hand and enumerated, “I’ll need candles, a map of the country, something of his, a picture of him and the blood of one of his relatives to do this spell. The rest is provided by your fabulous witch.” She said as she designated herself in an elegant move of hand. “But wait, how will it work? And we don’t even know if they’re still in the country or even this realm.” I finally asked. 

She consulted her paper again and told me, “Once everything is in the bowl, I’ll perform the spell. And then, I’ll dip the pendulum in the bowl and place it above the map. The pendulum will find the start of Dean’s journey, which means the location of the bunker and will drip the blood on it. The blood will get absorbed by the map and trace the entire path taken to his final destination. Then you’ll find your loverboy again, dearie.” She then patted my shoulder and added “They’re still in the country, Fergus might be vicious but he sometimes lacks imagination. How can I possibly be related to him?” I looked at her, half hopeful, half desperate and nodded my head. In return, she simply smiled at me. As she began to prepare her improvised altar, I ran as fast as I could in the bunker to find what she needed. I came back with one of his old bracelets, a map, candles and a picture of him next to Baby.

When I arrived, Rowena had set everything and was reading one of the heavy leather-bound books she brought. The moment she noticed me, she lifted her head and sent me a smile. We laid the map on the altar, lit the candles and placed the bracelet and the picture on the large bowl. ”So, everything is in place, I’ll just need...” She didn’t finish her sentence as a loud noise behind us made us jump. Sam just came back. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rowena. “Hello, Y/N and, uh, Rowena,” he said, visibly surprised. “Well. Hello Samuel. You’re right in time for once.” He seemed a little scared and asked, “Right on time for what?” So I explained, “Rowena found another spell, but to perform it, we’ll need the blood of a relative of Dean.” As he took the information in, he just nodded and asked, “Okay. Do you need just a drop or more?” She gave him an athame and told him. “You’ll have to slice the palm of your left hand and make your blood drip on the bowl. But not until I said the incantation for the third time. It is extremely important. When I use the pendulum, I’ll need you both to chant ‘Orientem Occidentem Septentrionem et Meridiem monstrant viam ab uno absente captam’, okay?” Sam looked at her, then me and nodded again.

Rowena then began the ritual. She breathed deeply before singing her incantation. “Orientem Occidentem Septentrionem et Meridiem monstrant viam ab uno absente captam” she sang in a deep voice. She was moving her hands toward each cardinal point above the bowl. A tingling sensation of electricity in the air made the atmosphere tense. So much so that I could feel the hair at the back of my head rising and goosebumps forming on my arms. I was holding my breath the whole time, anxiety filling my veins. By the way Sam looked everywhere around him, I knew he was as anxious as me. When Rowena reached the third time reciting, Sam sliced his left hand as indicated and as she kept singing. 

The lights of the bunker began to flicker, and the bowl produced the noise of something bubbling and thin steam could be seen. I swiftly approached Sam to wrap his hand in a clean cloth. She then plunged her pendulum into the blood, and it began to rotate in search of the bunker. Sam and I began to sing. After a few rotations above the Kansas area, the pendulum finally stopped and touched the map. “Keep singing!” she ordered as she closed her eyes and began to sing with us. The tension in the air increased, making it hard to breathe. Then, it happened. A faint red line was finally forming itself on the map, beginning at the location of the bunker and continuing. It was the first time I felt this hopeful in weeks.

Suddenly, the thin steam erupting from the bowl became thicker. And some lightbulbs around us exploded in a terrible noise. Sam and I both looked at each other. “Uh, Rowena, is it normal?” asked Sam, coughing a little. Rowena kept her eyes closed, “What is it, Samuel?” But before we could say anything, the smoke became thick black in an explosion sound, and the map began to burn almost instantly on the altar. Sam and I immediately tried to stop it from burning. Rowena opened her eyes, completely startled by the sudden commotion. Her eyes widened when she saw what was happening. “No, no, no! It wasn’t supposed to burn!” she screamed as she tried to help us stop the fire. But it was too late. It was almost in ashes. I barely had time to see the red line stopped dead in its tracks to God knows where. It was merely at the frontier of Kansas. To say that I was devastated was an understatement. We were so close! I could see the deception in Sam’s eyes as well.

Everything happened very fast in a  short period. So fast that I struggled to process it. It gave me the weird sensation that I was in a dream, that it couldn’t be real. Just like Dean’s death. It was pushing me over the edge. All my repressed feelings came to the surface. The sadness, guilt, grief, and anger suddenly blinded me, “Son of a bitch! What the hell had happened?! It wasn’t supposed to end like an election for the new pope!” I screamed. Rowena had a sorry look in her eyes.”I’m sorry, darling. I guess it means he doesn’t want us to find him. But I’ll keep looking for a new spell.”, she said as she tried to arrange the mess with Sam. I heard her mumbling "Sometimes Fergus makes me hate myself for participating in that orgy back then." Sam then spoke in an hopeful tone, “I heard about a series of weird murders before coming here. It could be linked to Dean.” I simply nodded my head, trying to keep my emotions at bay to not lashing out on someone. I was trembling, and my heartbeat was wild and erratic. I wanted to smash everything around me, but this mess wasn’t anyone’s fault but Crowley’s. So I breathed deeply and began to help them. 

Later in the day, I decided to seclude myself in my old room to take a nap. The dream was weird, once again. This time, there was a gorgeous blond woman. She was serving a beer to someone. The next part was Casa Erotica worthy but I couldn’t see who was with her. I woke up instantly. I was going crazy. Somehow, I truly felt like I was spying on her, like it wasn’t a regular dream. I finally fell asleep again but this time, all the dream showed me was the name “Black Spur Bar” and then a map with the name Beulah, North Dakota shining bright. This time, I almost fell off my bed. Maybe it wasn’t just a dream? I had to tell Sam.

I sprinted out of my room, hoping to find Sam in the Bunker. Luckily, I heard him speak to someone in his room. He was at his desk, looking at his computer, taking notes with his phone in hand.” Drew Neely, you say? I’ll check this…” I nearly screamed “Sam, sorry to interrupt you but I think we need to go to Beulah in North Dakota.”  With a surprised expression, Sam looked at me and said “Sorry, Cas. Y/N has something to say. I’ll put you on a loudspeaker so you can interact with us. Now, Y/N, will you explain please.”

Part.3 soon

Taglist

@hobby27 @deans-spinster-witch @muhahaha303 @kazsrm67

[paarthurnax59]

Little Sparrow

warning: swearing, violence, MOCDean, angst, breakup.

Chapter 1

    Never in your life have you seen Dean this angry. You knew that it was all directed at you. Charlie had been killed by the Steins while trying to find the Book of the Damned. It was the key to help Dean get rid of the Mark on his arm. You volunteered to go and protect the book after she received death threats from the Stein family and wanted to throw them off the scent. Charlie wasn’t having it. She told you that she would protect the book in a secluded cabin after she found it. She told you both that she would be safe and so would the book. 

Turns out you were wrong. 

  You and the boys try as hard as you could to get to Charlie on time. Dean practical rushed to the cabin that Charlie was hiding out in. You nearly threw up when you saw Charlie’s body in that tub covered in her own blood. She had been brutally murdered by the Steins.

Now, y0u all watched as Charlie’s body burn on the pyre and heard Sam say a few words about your friend making you cry. You wanted to say a few of your own, feeling somewhat at fault for what happened to Charlie.

 “Charlie, I’m sorry f-”

“Don’t!” Dean barked at you, stopping you from talking about Charlie, making both you and Sam look at him with your jaw dropped when he shouted at you.

“Dean, knock it off.” Sam chastised him for telling you to stop talking about Charlie, but Dean was not letting up.

“No, Sam! This is her fault! If she hadn’t lied to me about the book, Charlie would be here right now! (Name) has no right to be talking about her! Her body wouldn’t be burning on that pyre right now if (Name) would have just told me the truth!” Dean yelled and then turned to you, aiming all his ire on you. Noticing Dean looking at you with the most rage-filled snare. “You just had to let her take the fall. You knew what was coming after her, and you just let her take the fall. Now she’s gone and she’s not coming back!” 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I tried-”

“SHUT UP! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU DON’T GET TO TALK OUT OF THIS ONE! YOU LIED TO ME!” He shouted and made you flinch when Dean’s booming voice now terrified you. All of a sudden, Dean then picked you up by the neck, as he started to cut off your air supply. Sam, dismayed by his actions tried to get Dean off of you. 

“DEAN! STOP IT! LET HER GO! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER!!!” Sam yelled as he tried to pull Dean away from you, but Dean was not budging. Sam wasn’t strong enough to gt Dean to put you down, and he threw his own brother back to the ground making him groan in pain. 

“Sam!” You choked out while you watched poor Sam being thrown the ground trying to get up.

“Look what you made me do! Sam’s hurt trying to protect you! Just like Charlie! You’re not worth protecting! Charlie didn’t deserve to die! She was an innocent civilian If anyone deserved to be on that pyre having their flesh burn to a crisp, IT’S YOU!!!” Dean finally dropped you the ground, and you groaned in pain, chanting out apologies repeatedly. Dean spat at you and just glared at you with nothing but pure hatred. Your eyes brimming with tears looking up at your boyfriend. What has happened to him? Was this because of the Mark of Cain?

“Dean, just leave her alone!” Sam tried to get up from where Dean had thrown him and tried to steady himself while holding his arm. “It’s not her fault! Charlie knew the risks, she volunteered for this! We all loved her, including (Name)! and she wouldn’t want you to be attacking her!”

“It should have been (Name), not Charlie. She is a hunter, and she was supposed to protect people.” Dean spat back from behind him, not even taking Sam’s words into consideration and then turned to you with a very blood thirsty look on his face. “I want you gone.”

“What?!” Both you and Sam yelled with wide eyes at Dean as he turned away from you. 

“I don’t need a liar for a girlfriend, especially one that lets her friends get brutally murdered. You are a sad sorry excuse for a hunter and friend.” Dean’s words made your heart crack in two. You could believe what you were hearing. this had to be a dream. A bad one. “I don’t know why I ever wasted my time on you. You are weak, (Name). I just wish it didn’t take me losing a good friend to see that. I wish I had never met you.” He nailed your heart to the coffin as Dean slowly walked away from the site, without looking back at you. Sam, with his mouth open wide looking at his brother, was silent. He got up from the ground and rubbed his head, trying to rub the pain away. He looked at you as you cried on the ground and walked over to you.

 “Are you okay, (Name)?” Sam asked as looked at your shaking form. He never seen you looking so heart broken and distraught. 

“No, I’m not.” You answered honestly while Sam tried to reach out to you with his hand extended. Looking up at the taller brother and shook your head. “I don’t need help getting up, Sam.” You swat away his hand, making Sam jump. 

“(Name), you were nearly choked to death by Dean. Your face was so blue, you would have been gone in a couple of seconds. Let me help you.” Sam pleaded with you still leaving his hand out to you. You sighed and accepted Sam’s hand and he lifted you up with ease. “He didn’t mean it, (Name). He still loves you deep down. It’s the Mark. You know he hasn’t been himself since he’s got it.  You know the kind of person he is without it. He always cared about you. You have to-”

“Just…Stop it, Sam!” You cried loudly as Sam shut up. It made him take a step away from you when you snapped at him. You looked up at him and the feeling of guilt starts to sink in. “I’m Sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” You sobbed softly while trying to wipe away your tears. “I think it’s best if I leave right now. I am not safe around Dean and me staying here would only make it worse. All his ire is focused on me and I think I need to be away from here for a while. If Dean still wants me around after he gets that mark off.” You admitted. “I know what’s going on, Sam. The mark is getting stronger and it’s desire to kill is slowly making Dean lose control. I have seen it time and time again, the mark taking control and he ends up with someone’s blood staining his clothes. When Dean killed Claire’s foster dad, it broke my heart seeing her sobbed. I don’t wish that on anyone.”

“You know Dean wants you. You have to understand that this isn’t him, (Name).” Sam argued, his heart breaking at your story. 

“I don’t know if I am so sure anymore, Sam.” You say as you walk away and back to the bunker, as Sam looked at you with tear filled eyes.

….

   A week had gone by, and you were now staying at Jody’s until you can figure out where you were to go from here. Sam had tried one more attempt at telling you to stay, but you just wouldn’t have it. In your heart, you want to believe him. You truly wanted to. However, after the way Dean had not only blamed you for Charlie’s death, but also tried to kill you. Like your life was disposable. Like Charlie’s death matter more to him then your possible demise screamed something.  Not that Charlie deserved what she got. In fact, she deserved way better than being brutally murdered by the Steins. You will never forget the sight of her body covered in her own blood. That will haunt you for the rest of your days. 

   After a week of Dean not contacting you, you figured that he didn’t want to talk to you. You kept thinking over what he said about you being weak. It hurt to hear that Dean thought you were not capable of defending yourself and others. It hurt to no end knowing that the man you loved, Mark of Cane of not, didn’t want you around. As you were leaving the bunker, he looked at you with a smirk on his face. It showed he was glad you were leaving and possibly not coming back. Like he was happy to be rid of you. If this really was the Mark’s intention, to drive you away, then it succeeded.

Dean's hand print still lingers onto your neck, making you have to resort to using excessive amounts of makeup. You wore turtle neck sweaters so that the bruises seemed less noticable. It faded even as you try to hide it. Just barely, though. Everyday, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you see that dark red hand print made by Dean, reminding you of who made that mark.

“Hey, (Name). Dinners almost ready, you hungry?” Jody asked you still unpacking some of your stuff. 

“Yeah, I’m starving. Thanks again Jody. For letting me stay here.” You thank the kind policewoman with a small smile. 

“It’s no problem, honey. I love having you here.” She said as she left the doorway and down the stairs to finish dinner. You continued to go through your stuff when suddenly a blond-haired teenager came to invade your alone time by plopping her form on her bed.

“Claire! You are on my stuff!” You chastised her but all she did was shrug at you with not a care in the world. 

“Good to see you too, (Last name).” She said sarcastically said as she got up from your bed. “So, Jody told me that you and Dean had a falling out? Can you tell me more?” You stopped what you were doing after Claire mentioned yours and Dean’s break up. 

“It’s complicated, Claire. I rather not talk about it.” You denied her the conversation as you continued to put clothes away in the closet. She huffed as she got up from her bed, but still not have left your room. 

“He dumped you right?” She asked abruptly, which made you stop unpacking your clothes. 

“Yes, but it’s more than that, Claire. A friend of ours died and…” You leaned against the dresser. You sighed deeply while trying not to think back that day that you saw Charlie’s body lying dead in that bathtub. 

“He blamed you?” She inquired, not really liking how she was being too nosy with your personal life with the older Winchester. “(Name)…” She sighed sadly, you were about to tell her to stop talking when suddenly your phone went off. You looked to your dresser and grabbed the phone that was only used for emergency cases. You looked at the caller ID and saw it was all the way from Rome. 

“No way…” You answered in a whisper with the feeling that you knew where the phone call was from. You quickly answered and pulled the phone to your ear. “Hello, (Name) (Last Name) speaking.”

“Buongiorno, Paressa.” Said the male voice on the other line with a strong Italian accent. You looked to Claire and told her that she needed to step out of your room and she does. 

“Cardinal Jinette.” You uttered, not believing you would be hearing from him again. “It’s good to hear from you.” 

“And you, (Name). I’m glad to be able to speak with you. However, we don’t have much time for chatting as of now.”  Said the elderly man over the phone. Cardinal Jinette was the leader of the Holy Order, an old Organization formed in Europe during the medieval era. Your history with him goes back far into your early teen years. “I am afraid that we need your help. We need you to come back to Vatican City. Immediately.”  He said so abruptly making your eyes wide.

“Cardinal, Are you sure? There are others that you can call. What about…”

“He is the reason I am calling, Paressa. He is missing and we need your tracking skills to find him.”  He debated with you. He knew exactly who you were talking about, and you gasped with dread starting to seep into your thoughts. So, without a second thought or any further need of persuasion.

“Okay, I will be there as soon as I can.”

Chapter 2

Please like, comment and share! thank you so much for reading!

[zepskies]

Podcast Interview With Idling in the Impala: "Y/N and Let Y/N…"

Here we go! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me on the pod for an interview…

We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more.

That’s right, there be some hot takes coming in this convo, and I had an absolute blast with these two! (And like I said in Sunday's announcement, I’m also putting my name and my voice out there for the first time! 😆)

So if any of that sounds interesting, feel free to dive in!

(**Important Note: Just to preface, we recorded this back in June, so it was before I posted certain stories or even started developing Lost on You. It was also when Tumblr activity/engagement was going through a spring/summer slowdown lol.

Links to all the fics and podfics we mentioned are at the end of this post.)

Have a listen: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer shoutouts, and more!)

1:44 – Who’s your guy: Sam or Dean?

3:35 – Getting into Supernatural for the first time (and seeing “Deanisms” in Jensen’s early roles).

10:15 – We debate the best and worst seasons of SPN: talking Mary Winchester, the British MOL, MOC Dean vs. Demon Dean, Chuck/God villainy, “jump the shark” moments, and that ending.

30:29 – Favorite SPN characters besides Sam and Dean.

32:34 – Writing fanfiction, joining Tumblr, and writing reader inserts vs. OCs.

38:05 – To “Y/N” or not “Y/N,” and the power of 2nd person. (**Disclaimer: Despite my hot take on this, I’ve loved a lot of stories by authors who use Y/N in reader insert stories.

Also, if I’m remembering the book You and its characters incorrectly forgive me, it’s been like 5 years since I read it lol.) 

51:00 – Favorite fanfic tropes in romance, the joys and challenges of writing Soldier Boy (AKA: the Original Asshole), and attempting to humanize Ben in Break Me Down.

Shoutout to @deans-spinster-witch always for giving me the inspiration to write BMD. 💚

Why We Love The Boys – A review of Supes Ain’t Always Heroes

1:07:57 – Engaging with readers, tips on increasing engagement, optimizing your Tumblr blog, writing schedules and processes, and incorporating reader feedback into stories.

1:26:38 – Sandra graciously narrated Midnight Espresso (Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader). We chat about what sparked the idea for the ME-verse, self-representation in fanfic, feeding Dean, loving Dean, and writing about culture and ethnicity in the fandom space.

1:38:26 – Chatting about the inspirations behind Smoke Eater, a firefighter!Dean AU; law enforcement procedurals, House MD, and researching for stories.

1:44:30 – Which Jackles character is the easiest or most fun to write?

1:47:39 – The challenges of writing Sam vs. Dean.

1:53:15 – Shoutouts! To some of my favorite SPN authors. I could only remember a few people off the top of my head (stupid me), but I love all of you!!

@waynes-multiverse @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @luci-in-trenchcoats @rizlowwritessortof @waywardxwords

@deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings @spnbabe67 @thatonewriter15

@justagirlinafandomworld @kaleldobrev @artyandink @princessmisery666 @wayward-dreamer (– and many more.)

2:00:40 – How I came up with my username.

2:05:04 – Kasey’s Secret Question…

2:07:38 – Advice to fanfic writers and creatives for inspiration and/or wisdom.

2:16:35 – Sandra and Kasey’s lovely outro: self-representation in fandom, escapism, diverse voices, and more. (“Reach out a hand. Touch somebody. …Not like that.”)

📖 Fics Mentioned:

Sandra: @talltalesandbedtimestories -

Some Sunny Day Series – Dean Winchester x OFC - (I'm in the process of reading this entire series and it's been a joy to read! 💜)

Past Due – Dean Winchester x Reader

The Iceman Cometh – Dean Winchester x Reader

Cowboy Canter (Original Fiction) – Inspired by cowboyish Dean/Jensen.

Kasey: @sam-is-my-safe-word -

English Cottage-verse – Sam Winchester x Reader (I've read it and it's fantastic! 💜)

(K)not for sale – Soldier Boy x Dean Winchester

Alex (Zep/Me) -

Break Me Down – Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Midnight Espresso (& the Series Masterlist) – Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Dream With Me – Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Smoke Eater – Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Every Second Counts – Russell Shaw x F. Reader

🎙️ Stories/Podfics Sandra has narrated for me:

Podfic Playlist

And please remember to check out all the other awesome interviews, narrated podfics, and fun topics covered by Sandra and Kasey on the Idling in the Impala Podcast!

[queen-of-deans-booty]

His Anchor

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: MoC!Dean, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: how about mark of Cain dean and he is an ass to everyone but the reader. He is all fluffy and lovely dovey with the reader and one night he has had enough of her cuteness and just kisses her… maybe she tells him about a book she is reading… 

Summary: Dean is affected by the Mark in ways you and Sam don't realize, and he's trying not to let it affect others around him. However, there is only one person who can lift his spirits even when he's shrouded in darkness.

Square Filled: the first blade (2019) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

Dean sits alone at the library table with just a dim lamp to light the room and a glass of alcohol next to him. He hasn’t been doing good as of late because of the fucking Mark on his arm. It’s a constant reminder of how much he’s got to lose, and it’s taken over his life. He wants the damn thing removed but he’d be putting people in danger if he does. This Mark has already claimed so much of his life that he’s trying to hold onto whatever he has left, refusing to give into it more.

He traces the edge of the Mark with his index finger and goosebumps crawl up his arm immediately. There’s something raw in the danger that befalls the Mark including the First Blade. He’s used it plenty of times to kill those who deserve it even though it itches for more. The First Blade will never be satisfied with how many kills Dean gives it because there is a purity in how many victims it can claim.

Including himself. In the end, he’ll fall victim to his own blade. Would he die? Would the Mark allow him the sweet relief of death?

“Hey, you alright? Why is it so dark in here?”

Dean is pulled from his thoughts and looks up at his brother who has entered the room.

“What do you want?” Dean asks and turns the brightness up on the lamp.

“I might have found a lead on Metatron. He’s the only one that’s gonna have information on the Mark.”

Dean is so sick and tired of hearing how his brother found a lead only for that lead to turn up dead. He’s been led on by hope far too many times only for it to bite him in the ass later.

“Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop looking for the cure. It’s pointless if it means a lot of people are gonna be hurt in the process.”

“I know but this time is different. Listen to this. Rowena is a really old witch. She comes from the same kind of magic as the Mark, so I figure if we can get to Metatron, then--”

Dean slams his glass onto the table, shattering it to pieces. His hand bleeds but he doesn’t care about that. Sam jumps at the sudden noise and stares at his brother with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Don’t make me smack you.”

Sam’s shoulders sag in defeat.

“Fine. Whatever.”

The younger brother leaves to investigate this on his own. If Dean isn’t gonna help him then he’ll do everything himself. Dean knows he will never give up because that’s not what they do. If it were Sam who took this Mark on, then Dean would be the same way. Dean shakes his head and grabs another glass from the small cart by the table and pours himself another drink. He has bigger things to worry about than the Mark like Rowena, Cain, the Book of the Damned, and just about every fucking thing in his life.

You walk into the library with a book in your hand and Dean’s mood becomes ten times better. Everything in his life is fucked up but you. You’re the light in all this darkness and he’s so scared you’ll end up hurt because of him. You look up and smile when you see Dean but the smile is lost when you see the pieces of glass on the table.

“Hey, where’s Sam?” you ask.

“Doing nerdy things,” Dean shrugs.

“Okay, can I talk to you about this book I just finished? Like I need to tell someone.”

“Sure,” he chuckles and welcomes the distraction.

“Okay,” you rush to the table and sit next to him, “so the main character, Alana, works at this big company that everyone knows about and she feels trapped doing the same shit every single day. She wants to be doing more with her life but doesn’t know where to start or what she should be doing. That is, until the CEO of the company, Marcel started doing some shady shit. She tries to find out what he’s been up to, and it turns out that he’s making this serum that will make him rule the universe or some shit like that. She’s like hell no so she tries to foil his plans but ends up as his test subject! She tries to escape him but he ended up giving her the serum since he needed a human subject. This whole big fight happens between them but I was not expecting that turn of events!”

Dean isn’t paying attention to a goddamn word you’re saying. You’re so passionate and happy about this book you’re reading that he’s focused on your smile, the way your eyes light up, and how you can’t sit still. You give him joy like no other. How did he ever cope before he met you?

“Are you even listening to me? Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask.

Dean can’t help but grab your chair and pull you closer to him. He slides his big hands into your hair and plants his lips on your impulsively. You haven’t felt his lips in over a year since he kissed you when he was ass-backward drunk. You thought he never brought it up because he was drunk, but he didn’t want the one good thing in his life to go away if he confessed how he felt about you.

He pulls away from you and watches as your mouth opens and closes like you don’t know what to do. Your cheeks heat up in nervousness because you were not expecting that at all.

“Oh, okay,” you stutter.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m glad I found you and not Sam.”

“So, how did Alana escape Marcel?”

Just like that, you’re back to passionately talking about your book. You’re the only thing anchoring him down and keeping him sane, and he needs a bit of that right now.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 : 𝖕𝖙1

(MOC!Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(Raised in Blood Masterlist)

(The Curse Masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it had been several months since you left Sam and Dean behind in the bunker and Dean has had enough of the mark on his arm. Luckily for him, Dean has a brother who is willing to help him find a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain, but there are only so many leads and who’s to say that all methods out there are useful?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spn level violence, gore which may be graphic for some audiences, an addition of characters that are not in the show

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a sequel to the Raised in Blood series, masterlist is linked at the top. In order to understand some of the references to the reader’s past and her relationship with Dean it would be advisable to read the first story. Hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Previously…

“So, Y/N… Why don’t you stay with us for a while? Get some rest and get used to this new body of yours?” Sam asked.

“Sam…” Dean said in a solemn tone.

“Oh.. right. I’ll leave you two to uh.. I’ve gotta go umm… I’ve got a thing.” Sam said as he awkwardly left, and you gave Sam a little grin.

You looked up at Dean and he cautiously stepped closer to you.

“You aren’t staying.. are you?” Dean asked softly.

“You know that I can’t…”

“Y/N, those things I said.. None of that was all me. Being a demon changed almost everything about me. Honestly I don’t even think before I turned you and I even had a chance to really learn about each other.”

“Then how much of it really was you, Dean? Tell me? Was it the sleeping around with other girls? Was it the anger you felt when I was trying to look out for you? What was it?”

“That night in the hotel between us was real… the moments before the battle with Metatron were real when you were telling me about what the mark would do to me, those were real. When I thanked you for staying when Sam and I were split up, that was real.”

You shook your head. “It may have been real for a moment. But like you said, you and I didn’t have the time to really learn. All of this has been nothing but a scrambled mess and there was nothing solid for us.”

“If you go out there, it will be a lot more dangerous. You’re human now and there’s a lot more than just the First Blade that can kill you now.” Dean said, and you could detect the very same thing that he argued with you about - worry.

“Dean? I’ll be okay. I’ve had several centuries if not millennia of experience in combat. Plus I have this.” You said and you held out your arm. “You know it won’t let me die.”

Now

Dean felt like his arm was being engulfed in flames. For the past several months since you've been gone it had felt as if the mark on his arm had been enraged - as odd as that may even sound.

Although, he had been trying to keep his irritability intact, and trying even harder not to fall into that dark path again. He knew he couldn't afford to become a demon once again and he didn't want to become a monster that kills people without a second thought. Not after he'd been down that road once already.

Dean was sitting down at one of the several tables in the library drinking a glass of whisky neat while Sam claimed he was running off doing some errand with Castiel.

Dean wasn't exactly sure what the two of them planned on doing but whatever it was, he knew they were at least trying to help Dean finally get the mark off his arm. He couldn't take it anymore, not after what he did to those men that almost hurt Claire. It made Dean sick to even think about what they could've done. A part of him delighted in the thought of ripping them to shreds all over again but as soon as those dreadful memories started to come back, the more guilty Dean began to feel and the more desperate he became to be rid of the curse.

As he lifted the glass up to his lips he finally heard a door open, only to hear the sound of the most annoying, aggravating voice he'd ever heard.

"What makes you think I'll ever help you after you imprisoned me?! You and the angel are both crazy!"

"Metatron?" Dean grumbled under his breath but rather than going over to Sam to confront him, he just watched as his little brother took him down to the dungeon they had there in the bunker.

As Dean listened to the way that God-forsaken angel grumble and complain, Dean started to remember the last fight he had before he became a demon. He remembered the adrenaline coursing in his blood, the determination he had to gut the bastard until his insides were on the outside.

He remembered being so close to finally killing the bastard only for the blade Metatron had to go through his chest. And the very second that happened, everything began to change.

Before his mind could dwell too much on that transformation, he heard his phone buzz while it was on top of the table just for Sam's name to show up.

SW: You may wanna come in here if you want to help me find answers.

Dean had to admit, he was a little astonished that Sam even wanted Dean to help with the interrogation. Even then, Dean knew Sam wouldn't let him take things too far. All Dean could do was hope he wouldn't take things too far in the first place, but when it came to someone like Metatron, there were no promises to be made.

Dean got up from his chair, downed the last if the whiskey in the glass before he set it back down on the table and started making his way down to the dungeon.

Sure enough, Metatron was still babbling on about his bullshit on how he was guessing was a demon, wanting to know if he had finally snapped - which the answer to all of those questions were a simple 'yes' whether Dean wanted to admit it or not.

But when Dean finally made his appearance, he saw the baffled look on Metatron's face. The initial reaction was nearly worth all the Hell Dean had been through with this whole ordeal... almost.

"So... you found your way back to the land of the living... well isn't that a bitch." Metatron finally said as he looked over at Sam.

"How'd you manage to pull that off? Did you actually get your hands a little dirty for once instead of making Dean the black sheep of your little family?"

"You know what forget the mark and kill him now." Dean grumbled, not even wanting Metatron to be the one that helped him. There was no way he'd be that cooperative anyway.

"Oh man.. he must really be a mess. Who knew the mark was so toxic?" Metatron said before cutting himself off.

"Actually, maybe I did. But nobody likes a spoiler in a story." He continued and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes as Sam started to talk.

"Yeah so how do we get it off?"

"What? No more social hour? Come on, I've just been out of prison where no one would talk to me. Maybe I have more to say than you think."

"Well we're not here for socializing so we're moving on to the next part of the agenda." Sam continued on.

"That part would be us asking the questions, you give us the answers, unless you'd rather do things the hard way where I beat the answers out of you." Dean glared.

"What makes you assume I won't help you right away? Don't tell me you're truly that easy to antagonize now. Are you really that irritable with all of this? Gosh that mark is probably going to own you sooner rather than later if you keep that up." Metatron continued then he looked up at Dean and gave him a knowing, sly and nearly malicious smile.

"Imagine how agonizing it must be without its other half."

Somehow Dean knew exactly what this angelic son of a bitch was referring to and with two mighty stomps and a large hand suddenly around Metatron's throat he spoke, "You leave her name or any implication of her out of your damned mouth before I carve out your tongue."

"You do that, and you'll never know how to get that mark off your arm."

"Then spit it out already. It's not like it's that much of a pleasure keeping you down here." Sam said.

"Speak for yourself Sammy. I'd love to let him rot." Dean said and removed his hand from the angel's throat.

"Okay than..." Metatron cleared his throat to the best of his ability.

"Well.. the first thing you need is going to be an old friend of yours. And that would be the one, and the only, First Blade."

Dean heard the two final words that came out of Metatron's mouth, and it was like the mark began to pulse on his arm just at the mention of the name. Dean's hand slowly formed a fist and he could practically feel the familiar touch of the blade's handle as if he truly had a grip on it, then he looked at Metatron.

"As I said before... isn't life a bitch?"

"Son of a bitch..." Dean muttered as he walked out of the dungeon.

Sam watched Dean turn on his heel and walk out before he glared at Metatron.

"That's all you can tell us? The only thing you can come up with?" Sam asked and Metatron gave an 'innocent' little shrug.

"It's all you're getting out of me for the time being."

Sam's jaw tightened before he got up from the table he'd been sitting on and he followed Dean out of the dungeon, slamming the door behind him.

"I thought you and Castiel said you had an idea of how to get the mark off. And you brought Metatron? Didn't you tell me Y/N told you something that could help? There's no way in the darkest part of Hell that she'd suggest this bullshit." Dean said.

"If you hadn't let her go then we would've been a Hell of a lot further in looking into her lead but as of right now there have been no leads on the Book of the Damned she was talking about. Metatron is the best we've got and even then his plan is a terrible idea." Sam retorted.

Dean went quiet for a moment, brows knitting together as the mark on his arm pulsed in anger yet again and felt like it was burning all over again at the thought of letting you just leave. He wanted so badly for you to stay but he knew you had your reasons. He just hated that it felt like he hadn't tried hard enough to make you stay.

Then there was the matter of the First Blade. He knew it was more than just a 'bad idea' for him to wield that weapon again. Especially when he killed several men practically the first chance he got when he was left alone.

"Don't tell me you're actually giving the Frist Blade a legitimate thought. You know it's horrible and you can't be trusted with it!"

"I'm not saying I have to use it or that I need to be in any kind of contact with it, but what if this is the shot we need to take? Yeah, Metatron can be a lying son of a bitch, but if we can't even find a single lead on the Book of the Damned then this might just be the next best thing we can come up with." Dean tried to explain while Sam ran a large hand through his hair.

"How can we know whether or not this will actually work? We don't even know what he wants us to do with the damned thing."

"So for now we just play it safe, alright? We obtain the blade, you don't tell me where it is, we learn the spells and that's that. We don't even know if I even need to touch it."

"Wait a minute wait a minute, what if this is really the mark trying to get you to get a hold of it again? How do you know it doesn't have a stronger hold again?" Sam asked, the skepticism evident in his tone.

"It's not the mark, and no I don't trust anything about this Sam but this is the best thing we can come up with right now."

"No it isn't." Sam said and Dean turned around for a moment.

"I'm not doing that and you know it."

"Why the Hell not? Maybe she's had more luck on finding the book than we have and we can get you safely out of this mess without the blade!"

"I'm not calling Y/N - that's final."

There were terrified screams all around you, tortured voices of men, women and children all crying out in agony. There was red everywhere as you walked around your surroundings. The boots you wore were sticky with blood as a result of each step you took. The metallic smell invaded your senses and yet you didn't have much of a reaction. You'd grown accustomed to the aroma of death all your life and this was just the beginning.

"M-Mama, I'm scared. Mama, please, w-wake up!" a little boy, not much older than you said with tears in his eyes as he gripped tightly onto the collar of his mother's dress.

You walked over to the boy and he must've seen your shadow. He slowly turned around and you could see the fear in his eyes.

"Y-You.. You're just a girl."

"Don't worry... you'll get to be with your Mama soon enough." You said and you pulled a knife from the pocket of your blood-soaked dress.

When the boy tried to run, your demonic speed allowed you to speed up and appear in front of him and you slashed his throat without giving him a second to blink. You could still feel his last breath brush your cheek as he tried to gasp for air before he fell to the ground.

You turned around and looked up as a demon with fiery red hair walked up to you. Her eyes black as onyx and lips as red as crimson tugged upward into a smile, a sickeningly prideful one at that.

"Well done, Y/N. You've passed this exam. Once you return home we'll begin the next steps in your training." Abaddon said.

Your mother stepped behind you and placed her hands on your shoulders before turning you around so you could see your reflection in one of the windows that somehow remained intact after all the chaos you'd spread.

The reflection showed a little girl who's eyes were glowing red yet there was no expression on the little girl's face. Her dress was once white and it had been stained in various shades of red. In her hand, there was a knife and on her arm, there was a cursed mark that the girl had been cursed to bare since birth, the same mark her father was cursed with by God himself. The blood was spattered on her face and yet it seemed to be another ordinary day for this girl without a soul.

"To this day, no one truly knows what really happened to the people who disappeared on Roanoke Island."

You blinked once or twice as the voice brought you out of your trance and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit you. The tour was over anyway so you rushed off to the nearest bathroom and locked yourself in one of the stalls.

Once your stomach contents were emptied, you slowly rose back up and wiped your lip with a Kleenex tissue from the packet you had stored in your pocket. You were glad you were at least prepared, but you hadn't anticipated something like this happening.

You were visiting the place where your first exam took place. Apparently, it was currently known as Dare County, off the North Carolina coast.

You weren't sure why you thought visiting such a morbid place was such a good idea for you. You hadn't expected the impact of the memories to hit you the way that it had. Then again, you were still trying to grow accustomed to human emotion now that you were no longer a demon thanks to the Winchesters.

You tossed the Kleenex into the bowl and flushed before exiting the stall to clean yourself up. The sickening feeling never left you though.

Now that you were visiting this place once more, you could almost hear all of the voices and the screams again. You could even remember that little boy's expression before he died.

Being human sucked, now that you know what guilt felt like. It didn't help that you were beginning to learn the emotional aspects of what trauma could do to a person. Abaddon truly was a monster for raising a child the way she did.

You were nearly glad Dean was the one that killed her. If it had been you, the result may have been more disastrous.

Once you had washed your hands and your mouth, you took some gum you had in your pocket and placed a piece in your mouth before tossing the trash away and you made your way outside.

"Hey there, you alright?"

A voice startled you, causing you to glance over. Upon seeing an ordinary looking man, you calmed down a little. He seemed to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties but not likely.

He was tall, had short dark hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to be filled with some sort of concern. Although you thought he looked familiar... maybe he was a part of the tour you were just on.

"I'm fine, thank you." You finally answered and you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Here, let me get you some water or something from one of the vending machines. You look kinda pale, maybe some hydration will help."

Your brow arched upward. You had to admit you were still trying to get used to the kindness some humans seemed to show. Nevertheless, you decided to take this stranger up on his offer. Anything was better than the current taste in your mouth despite the spearmint gum you were chewing.

"Sure. Thank you." You followed this man to a nearby vending machine and he grabbed a dollar bill, inserted it into the machine and once he selected a water bottle he grabbed it from the dispenser and handed it over to you.

"Thank you again.. umm...."

"Ab- uh... Abe."

"Frog in your throat there, Abe?" You asked with an arched brow and he simply smiled at you, broader than the smile from before. Then you saw something in his eyes.

His gaze seemed warm but they looked as if they held so many secrets from literal eons ago. He may have looked young physically, but there was definitely something about him that was ancient, seemingly as old as time.

"Take a walk with me. It's getting too crowded here." Even though this felt more like a demand rather than an invitation, you didn't quite feel threatened by this man. So you followed him outside so the two of you could take your stroll and you drank some of the water he'd bought for you.

"So, what brings you to this part of town? I don't think I've seen you around here." Abe asked.

"Oh, um... I'm taking a bit of a road trip and I have a bit of a n interest in history and this mystery has always fascinated me." You said, trying to come up with something on the spot wasn't always easy but you hoped he'd leave it at that.

Shockingly, all he did was hum before he started to speak again.

"There have been a lot of theories about what may have occurred in Roanoke. I think one of the more hilarious theories is the involvement of extraterrestrial beings." He spoke, holding up the conversation.

"You're not one to believe in aliens?"

"I didn't say that. I believe God has a creative, even imaginative mind. I'm sure He grew curious as to what other intelligent life He could make worship Him even if they aren't in His likeness. But no, I know His other creations haven't come to meddle in the matters of Earth back then."

Okay, this conversation was beginning to take a weird turn. Abe started to speak as if he knew the All Father and it was a little unsettling. Had you come across an angel? This couldn't be a safe situation considering you had been nothing but a demon up until this point.

"Look, I know you angels aren't fond of demons, especially since the Winchesters foiled the plans of the End Times, but I've done my best to keep out of your mess for centuries." You stated, prepared to get onto the defensive. Yet all Abe did was let out a chuckle.

"You know very little despite living for a long time, Y/N." Your eyes widened for a moment. You didn't recall ever giving Abe your name in response, so how did he know who you were?

"Who are you?" You asked warily.

Abe glanced down at you r arm and you watched as his gaze seemed to soften, "Someone who should be the one carrying your curse."

Your brows narrowed with confusion but the man looked at you again and he took a gentle hold of your hand before lifting your arm up to him as if to get a better look.

"May I?" His tone was shockingly soft and you had a feeling you might've known who this was, yet you didn't want to admit it for yourself. Instead, you just nodded and he let his fingers graze over the mark your family shared.

Your arm tensed and you nearly hissed in pain as the skin burned with sensitivity, "Relax, I'm not here to harm you."

You looked at Abe again and you slowly began to relax. As you continued to observe, Abe closed his eyes and you could tell his shoulders were tensing up a little and when he opened his eyes again, you could see the white glow in his eyes, the same as any other angel.

"A child should never have had to gone through what you did. A child like you should never have been brought into this world for such malicious intensions. Your father would never had stood for this, only because he knows what a curse this is to begin with. He would never want such a thing passed on to anyone with his blood." The glow in his eyes dissipated once more.

"I'll ask again, who are you?"

Abe let out a scoff before he lifted his hand, placing his palm on your forehead, then you began to see something you hadn't anticipated.

"Abel, what are you doing?" A man with black hair and pure blue eyes asked while he walked towards another man at the altar.

Abel was bowing down, muttering a prayer, ignoring his brother's question as he continued his form of worship.

"Abel, this is Blasphemy and you know it. You know God could kill you for this! Look at what He did to Mother and Father because of their disobedience!" Cain reached down and pulled Abel up from his worship and Abel glared at Cain.

"Must you interrupt everything I do, Brother? This is an important meeting! I can get us back into Eden!"

"Ahh, this must be the brother Cain you were speaking of, Dear Abel."

Cain's eyes widened as he heard the voice. It was the same voice his mother Eve had heard hen being tempted to eat the forbidden fruit. The same voice Adam and Eve both had warned their children to ignore.

"Abel this is madness. It was because of Lucifer that we they were cast out! The very reason why we never got to see the Garden and more than likely never will!" Cain tried to reason.

"Cain, I'm far from seeing the garden. I'm far from God's grace as it is. Let me do something to help the three of you go back to where you were always meant to be."

"Abel this is wrong. Turn back from this path. This is your very soul you're talking about! Are you really accepting that you could be cast down with the other angels that fell from Grace?"

"You brother is right, Abel. You will never get into Paradise; you're practically leaving all of your family behind. You'll belong to me for all of Eternity." Lucifer interjected.

Then an idea appeared in Cain's mind. He knew Abel was the favorite of the family. Most even believed Abel was God's favorite. He deserved to go into Paradise.

"Lucifer, let me offer myself in my brother's place. He's young and knows not the mistake he's making by even meeting with you at an alter built for God." Cain began and Abel shoved Cain's shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing? You're going to ruin everything!"

"Lucifer, please. He's a boy and doesn't deserve an eternal damnation. Take me in his place and find a way to get Abel into Heaven instead." Cain bargained.

There were a few moments of eerie silence before Lucifer spoke again.

"I'll accept this bargain. However there will need to be bloodshed." Lucifer finally spoke.

"You must be the one that send your brother into Heaven yourself."

Abel's stomach sank down to his feet at the words. What had he done? Maybe Cain was right? He should have never summoned Lucifer in the first place, and now not only would Abel have to die, but his own brother would have to kill him only to go to Hell for something Abel brought into this world.

"No, I can't be the one to do this." Cain said.

"If not, then an illness will kill him during the evening anyway and Abel will go to Hell despite your plea." Lucifer threatened.

Cain and Abel exchanged glances but Abel was the first to look away, "You don't have to do this. I've brought this upon myself."

"I have to. You deserve to be in Heaven with Mother and Father once they go. You had good intentions even if executed poorly." Cain spoke solemnly before the older brother looked at the reddened flames that personified Lucifer.

"I accept." Cain finally replied.

With that, the reddened flames parted to reveal the skull of a donkey, "Take the bones and manufacture a weapon of choice. This will be used to kill your brother."

Cain swallowed harshly before he walked to the alter and took the bones. He took the jaw bone then he got to work.

He took the jaw bone fragment and a rock to sharpen it the best that he could by grinding the rock against the bone, an attempt to sharpen it, hoping it would speed the process of Abel's death so he wouldn't feel so much pain. After that, Cain took the leather belt from around his waist and wrapped around the section of bone that would serve to be the handle.

Thus.. the First Blade had been created.

With a heavy heart, Cain stood up and he looked at his brother. Abel's jaw was clenched as he tried to put on a brave face.

"I'm sorry to do this, Brother.. but it's for your own good." Cain said and Abel held up a hand to pause Cain from speaking further.

"I've already said I've brought this upon myself. Though you should not be the one going to Hell for this." Abel continued and Cain gripped the handle of the new weapon.

"What's done is done, Abel. Once Mother and Father make it to Heaven.. let them know how much I'll miss them. They won't forgive me for what I'm about to do." Cain said and Abel gave Cain a saddened smile.

"Maybe not... But I do. And you'll need to learn to forgive yourself." Abel said and he walked over to Cain. He lifted his brother's hand that was holding the weapon and pulled it up to his chest.

"I'll explain my mistake once they arrive. Now please, if I'm not going to see the sun rise tomorrow, I'd rather it be by your hand." Abel insisted and Cain looked at his younger brother.

"Please.. close your eyes. I don't think I can do this if they're open." Cain insisted.

Then, with a nod, Abel's eyes closed and Cain plunged the weapon into Abel's chest. Abel let out a hiss in pain and gripped his brother's shoulder so tightly. Then he opened his eyes again to look at Cain one last time.

"I'm sorry to have forced your hand..." He admitted then he let out his final breath, dying in Cain's arms.

Cain gulped harshly as if holding back the emotions he was feeling before he laid Abel on the ground, knowing he would need to tend to the body later.

"Now... since that's finally finished. Now it is time for your end of the deal." Lucifer said and Cain had this unsettling feeling.

"A part of Abel's deal was that he would do something for me. This task is an important one to have and yes, it will come at a cost greater than killing just one person. You're much stronger than your brother, and you seem to be more of a soldier, a might soldier that I'll train you to become and you'll be the leader of a malicious army one day." Lucifer continued, though Cain hardly had the heart to listen to everything. He no longer had the choice to refuse whatever task Lucifer asked of him.

"There is a mark I will give you. Consider it a gift. It will make you stronger than you are now. And this gift will pass on to your direct offspring. They will inherit this gift and they will be stronger and your entire bloodline will last eons."

Whatever gift Lucifer was about to give Cain, he knew better than to know this would be anything good. And he knew he would never want this curse to pass on.

But before Cain could protest or voice his concerns, the reddened fire seemed to take on a life of its own and wrapped itself around one of his arms before one of the flames branded Cain's arm. Cain let out a cry in agony as the flames burned his skin, forming the very mark that would taint him and his actions for the rest of his life.

It was a tragic day as murder entered the world, just as the sin of disobedience had entered the world.

And Cain would forever be known as the Father of Murder from that point on.

As Abel let down his palm from your hand, you opened your eyes and you looked at him with shock.

The man in front of you.. He was your uncle. He was the reason why your father had the mark on his arm. The reason why you were stuck with it because Abaddon wanted to use you to kill Cain because he had killed the Knights of Hell.

"You.. If you hadn't made that deal-" You could feel the anger residing in you and the mark was beginning to ignite in you once again. Everything in you was feeling that human temptation to fall into your murderous ways.

"In your human state you would never be able to kill me. You don't have an angel blade, the First Blade, or any other weapon specializing in celestial slaughter. Think carefully." Abel warned you.

You closed your eyes and you turned away from Abel and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had to collect your thoughts. He was right, you couldn't kill him in this state, and even then you were trying not to fall back into those ways in the first place.

You owed that much to both Sam and Dean since they were the ones that gave you the chance to be human in the first place. After letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in the first place, you turned around to face Abel once more.

"What did you do? Come all this way to look for me or something? You didn't find me by coincidence." You told him.

"I know you're searching for a way to be rid the mark. You can't get rid of it. It's impossible. Otherwise Cain might've gotten rid of it a long time ago." Abel said to you and you shook your head.

"Cain didn't try hard enough. He didn't want to get rid of the mark badly enough. A third party has received the mark from Cain himself and he doesn't deserve such a curse, and I'm going to find a way to get him out of this mess because it's not his cross to bear. It's mine and Cain's."

Abel softened once more and he rubbed his temple. You could tell there was something formulating in his mind but he was hesitant to tell you.

"If you have something to say then spit it out. Otherwise I need to get back to work." After all, your day off from researching was pretty much shot and it'd been that way since you'd vomited before this encounter.

"You're looking into the Book of the Damned, yes?" Your eyes widened at his words, how did he know about that? And what did he know about the book?

"You need to be careful when you get your hands on this book. I don't know where it is but there are spells within that book that are more dangerous than you can imagine. You and your little friend should consider a different way to get that mark off his arm." He advised and you lifted a brow.

"What could be so dangerous about a few spells?"

"Y/N... There are things in this world that should never be discovered. Some things should remain hidden. The Book of the Damned, the First Blade, even Cain himself should've remained hidden."

"The book is only a few hundred years old. I'm older than that, you're ancient compared to it. When it was created there wasn't any world crushing disasters. It's been hidden this entire time and it's important that we find it because there might not be any other way to get the mark off him." You explained.

"Witchcraft can be just as deadly as some of the seals broken during the end times which your friends managed to stop somehow. There is a reason why witchcraft is a force to be reckoned with. If you do continue looking for this book, be aware that you will not be the only one looking for it. People would kill for it. Not all humans are kind and fragile. Some are monstrous and will sacrifice everything to get what they want."

You listened carefully and you wished that something this important would be just a little bit easier to handle. But you had made up your mind on this already. Even if you could get killed with this human form, you would be able to come back. But Dean deserved better than this curse, so you would do everything you could to spare him from this specific sort of Hell.

"Thank you for the words of caution, but he is a friend. He should not have meddled in things he didn't understand and I'll face the consequences for him." You said before you turned your heel and walked away.

Abel watched as you walked away before he shook his head before muttering under his breath.

"You're more like your father than you realize, child."

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96 @nancymcl @hobby27 @muhahaha303 @k-slla @winchestergirl2

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

The Prophecy

Created with Microsoft Designer

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter 1: The girl and the werewolves Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated Chapter 3: The stand-off Chapter 4: The Order Chapter 5: So many questions, so little answers Chapter 6: A Girl Stuck in a Bunker Chapter 7: The Fates Chapter 8: Standing on Edge Chapter 9: Fairytales Chapter 10: Good Morning, Princess Chapter 11: The Mark, The Blade and The Scribe of God Chapter 12: I'm Not a Fucking Princess Chapter 13: Split Chapter 14: The Ghost and The Network Chapter 15: Just Turn It Off And On Again Chapter 16: Sweat It Out Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

_________

[konigbabe-interact]

drinking game gone wrong

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; oral sex; fingering; top!dean; MOC dean; p-in-v sex; drunk sex; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; gendered female reader; gendered female anatomy

Summary: You and Dean give into each other after months of mutual pining with the help of the Mark.

Currently only active as @konigbabe.

The heat radiating between you was undeniable, and you felt yourself getting lost in the moment as you tangled your hands in his hair. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, the taste of your desire still lingering on his tongue as it explored your mouth. His hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and igniting a fire that seemed to consume you both.

“No,” Dean bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls. The room seemed to heat up from the intensity of his anger as he threw a book at the wall, the hard edges creating a sizable dent. "There has to be a way, Cas," he added, the desperation in his tone palpable.

Sam and you exchanged a tired look; this was one of the numerous times Dean erupted in anger within a day. The Mark of Cain was taking its toll on him; it was becoming more challenging to keep his temper in check. You all knew that you had to find a cur. Soon. Before Dean's condition deteriorated even further.

“I am sorry, Dean. I understand how frustrating this must be for you. I know about a grimoire that could possibly contain a spell that could help. I'll do my best to look for it and try to find it as soon as possible, “ with that, Cas disappeared; leaving Dean completely frustrated, Sam and you both at a loss for what the next step should be.

In the end, Sam suggested they call it a night, but the look on Dean's face could have killed him if looks could kill. After a few minutes of tense and uncomfortable silence, it was blatantly apparent that the brothers were in need of some breathing room and a little bit of space between them; especially on Dean’s side.

Sam gazed at you with a hopeful expression, as if hoping for some sort of agreement, yet you offered no response. He nodded solemnly, rose with a heavy breath, and bade his farewell, vanishing from the room. You were left alone with Dean, whose head was already buried in a magical tome, oblivious to the stifling quiet that had descended between you.

Rising from your seat, you ventured to the kitchen, grasping two glasses and a bottle of aged scotch. Returning to Dean, who sat across the table, you placed a full glass before him, filling it with the amber-colored liquor.

Dean looked up from the book, his gaze on the liquor before he shoot you a look of disinterest; then he continued reading it without giving it a second thought.

“M’not interested, we have more important things to do,” he dismissed your offering, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Come on, Dean," you implored, your voice gentle with understanding.

"Just this one night and I promise we'll get back to the research tomorrow. But can't you, just for one night, take a break and enjoy yourself? I'm asking you as a friend, please," you pleaded, your gaze sincere. You could tell he was struggling with his decision, and you gave him the chance to think it through.

Finally, he sighed and took the glass in his hand.

“Just one night," he replied, his voice heavy and weary. He downed the liquor inside and you knew, despite the somberness of the situation, that you had won the battle.

"Just one night. Nothing more," he said and took the glass in his hand, ready to swallow the liquor inside. You stopped him from drinking, looking him in the eye with a knowing smirk, "Just drinking is mundane. What about a game? Spice up the night?"

He paused, considering the suggestion, then set the glass back on the table.

“All right. I'm game. What did you have in mind?” his voice had a slight edge of amusement, a sign of his willingness to go along with the suggestion and make the most of the night.

"Two truths and a lie," you suggested, Dean's eyes crinkling with mirthful delight. He smiled knowingly, his eyes sparkling with mischievousness. "This should be interesting," he said, his baritone voice taking on a more serious tone.

You watched as his expression turned thoughtful, his brow furrowing with concentration as he gathered his thoughts. He leaned forward, the light of the crackling fire reflecting in his eyes as he began to speak.

You could almost feel the anticipation radiating from him as he waited for you to start. He seemed to be studying you as if he could see into your soul. Taking a deep breath, you started, your words filling the space between you with a sense of mystery. Dean remained silent, his face betraying no hints of what he was thinking. As you made your way through the game, the atmosphere in the room slowly shifted, becoming more inviting and intimate.

It was now Dean’s turn, and the expectation weighed heavily in the air. Dean cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“My first truth is that I’m allergic to cats,” he said, “my second is that I have a fear of heights,” the sparkle that shimmered in his gaze was echoed by the bright blue of the ocean. He looked deep into your eyes, the sparkle in his own intensifying, and a feeling of anticipation in the air. Leaning forward, he rested on his elbows as he whispered softly,

“But the third truth I’m not so sure I’m ready to tell you,” he said, his voice soft and inviting.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling the warmth of his presence.

“The third truth is that I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the day we met,” his voice inviting, gaze never leaving yours, “I think it’s time I finally do.”

Your heart raced as Dean's piercing gaze met yours, and his voice, so seductive, only made the tightness in your chest grow.

“Dean, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” you breathed, but the atmosphere around you was charged with electricity. He was devouring you with his eyes and you felt the heat of his breath caress your skin; he inched closer to the table between you, his face dangerously close to yours.

You could feel the anticipation of his lips on yours. Finding yourself leaning in, longing for the kiss you both knew was coming; your brain turning into a cloud of haze. Knowing well enough once you overstep this line, there was no coming back. The liquor heating your chest; warming your heart, you felt the invisible threat pulling you towards the man opposite you.

And at that moment, all that was left was the possibility of what could be, of what you wanted more than anything.

“Dean,” you swallowed. His eyes met yours, dark and piercing, lips curving into a knowing smirk. You wanted him. You wanted to feel his body against yours, his lips on your skin, exploring every inch of you. You wanted to be taken away by his touch, lost in a world of pleasure and desire. You wanted him, and you knew he wanted you, too.

The air around you seemed to hum with electricity, and neither of you moved. The tension was palpable, and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Your heart raced and you felt dizzy with anticipation.

Finally, he stepped closer to you, a hand reaching out to brush your cheek. You shivered at the contact, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

You nodded, unable to form the words in your mouth.

“Say it,” Dean repeated himself.

All you could manage was a breathless, "Yes; yes, I want this."

He smiled, and you felt his lips press against yours. The kiss was electric, filled with raw desire.

Desire; spreading through your body like a raging storm. It consumed you; the intensity of it leaving you breathless. You felt it in your core, radiating outward to your fingertips. Every inch of you was alive, awash in passion and yearning. You wanted to be touched, to be loved, to be taken. You wanted to let go and give in to the sweet, sweet bliss of pleasure Dean was offering.

You felt yourself melting into him, lost in the moment. You knew you wouldn't be the same after this.

His hands trailed across your curves, a spark of heat igniting your soul. Your thoughts were a blur, nothing but him consuming your mind as seconds felt like an eternity. The hard, cold material of Dean's mattress pressed against your back, and you felt a primal connection, one that shook you to your core. His hands moved with purpose as they explored your body, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure through your veins. The moment felt like a dream, a dream that you never wanted to wake up from. His hands were like a whisper, a silent command to surrender to the pleasure he was giving you. You felt yourself yearning for more, the intensity of the moment making you desperate for his touch. You felt yourself becoming lost in the sensations, a blissful surrender that left you trembling and wanting more.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured against your skin before kissing your neck again. The sensation sent shivers through your body and you couldn't help but moan in delight. He slowly unclipped your bra, revealing your bare breasts to him. Dean wasted no time in taking one of your nipples in his mouth, igniting a flame within your core. Heat radiated from him as he pleasured you in the way he had always wanted to.

You grabbed a hold of his hair, pushing his face further into your body as you gasped for breath. His hands glided down your body, teasing and exploring until he finally found your sweet spot. You moaned louder, your body trembling in pleasure as his fingers worked their magic. You wanted him more than anything, and he wanted you too.

Dean’s touch was electric, sending sparks of desire through your veins as he ran his hands over your curves. Moans filled the room; he moved lower and lower, each touch more heated than the last, tongue dipping in your belly button before his lips met the lines of your pants. His breath was warm on your skin as he unhooked the button of your jeans; hands tugging at the fabric, pulling them off in one swift motion.

You gasped as he kissed your thighs, feeling the warmth of his lips move on your heated flesh. Dean’s fingers moved expertly, exploring every inch of your body with passionate purpose.

His name left your lips in a quiet but desperate whimper, feeling his fingers trace the middle of your soaked underwear, fingers circling your caching nub through your underwear.

“What do you me to do?” Dean's eyes smoldered as he looked up at you from between your quivering thighs, his arms securely tucked beneath you as your heels dug into his back; his words hang in the air, heavy with desire.

“I-, want your tongue,” you exhaled; your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt his hot breath on your wet core.

“To do what?” he pushed, voice deep and husky, eyes laced with mischief.

A shiver ran down your spine, goosebumps rising on your skin as your hands gripped the fumbled sheets.

“Taste me,” you whispered, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair as you drew his head closer to you.

“With passion,” he murmured against your center, tongue flicking out to tease you. The material of your underwear was dripping with your juices by the time Dean finally took it off. He moved with confidence, and you were lost in it, in him.

A cold breeze hit your soaked pussy before Dean’s tongue laid flat against the whole center, nose brushing against your clit as he devoured you like a man starved. Gasping for air like there was never enough oxygen, he licked and kissed you in slow, gentle circles, his tongue exploring your edges; curiosity taking over him.

Moaning softly into the room with your hand groping his hair for dear life, Dean sucked at your sensitive bud, the scrape of his finger on your inner walls sending a heatwave through you.

He kept up this slow, gentle rhythm for some time, making sure to pay attention to every single reaction of yours; adjusting his technique according to your reactions.

The room was filled with the smell of your arousal as he slipped a finger inside, gently caressing your velvet walls. His breath quickened as he felt your tightness around his finger, his cock pulsing in anticipation of what was to come. He teased and tantalized you, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy; each stroke sending you higher until you were begging for more. Dean obliged, surging inside of you in a powerful wave of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby,” his words demanded, sending you over the edge.

When you finally peaked, he didn't stop; Dean kept working you through your orgasm, lapping at your juices as you laid in blissful exhaustion.

Dean's lips moved hungrily along your body, sending waves of pleasure through you. His tongue flicked and teased your sensitive flesh, lingering in the areas that made you moan with delight. The heat radiating between you was undeniable, and you felt yourself getting lost in the moment as you tangled your hands in his hair. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, the taste of your desire still lingering on his tongue as it explored your mouth. His hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and igniting a fire that seemed to consume you both. You felt his arousal pushing against you as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch.

You pushed him onto his back, straddling his lap as you pounced on him. He moaned as you pressed your lips to his, tasting the sweet mixture of your desire again. His hands moved up and down your back, sending sparks of heat through you as he deepened the kiss; his hard arousal pressed against you. You finally pulled away, smiling as you looked into his eyes, both of you lost in the moment.

Dean’s hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly as he moved you against him, the sensations of pleasure overwhelming you. He leaned in again, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck as he whispered in your ear, “ride me.”

You shivered in response, knowing that this night was going to be filled with pleasure that you’d never felt before; you knew that no matter what happened tonight, it was going to be something you would never forget.

“Want to taste you too,” you murmured as his lips found yours again; you melted into his kiss as he explored your mouth with his tongue.

“Another time,” he said as his lips left yours, “but not tonight.”

Dean looked into your eyes, his gaze penetrating and intense; a rush of desire coursing through your veins. His hands gripping yours, he pulled them up to the neck of his shirt, inviting you to take it off and reveal the sculpted flesh of his torso, the anti-possession tattoo decorating his chest. As the fabric pooled onto the floor, you ran your hands along the contours of his body, eagerly seeking the skin to skin contact. His lips locked with yours, the urgency of his kiss sending heat through your body.

He pulled you aside, eagerly discarding the remaining items of clothing left on his body; his gaze searing into yours as his cock sprang free from its restraints, the head looking achingly engorged as the light reflected off the drop of precum. You could feel your desire for him growing with every passing moment; craving to feel him inside of you.

Something feral, almost instinctive, took over you; carnal impulses compelling you to take a seat atop him, locking his cock between your bodies; your fingers dancing over his length, savoring the slickness of his precum as his lips left a trail of hungry kisses down your neck; it felt animalistic, the two of you, consumed by each other's lust.

His fingers left a scorching, passionate imprint on your skin, like a brand that would never fade away. He made you feel alive and wanted, claiming your body and soul with his passionate touch. You could feel yourself melting under his gaze as he claimed every last inch of you, leaving you longing for more.

“Condom?” he asked, voice thick with desire. You shook your head, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

“Pill,” you whispered.

Dean chuckled, his eyes smoldering with desire as he let his fingers trace the curves of your hips.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Bracing your thighs on each side of his hips, you lifted yourself up, hand aligning his cock with your entrance. Your skin prickled with anticipation as you straddled him, the heat between your legs electrifying.

The spongy head of him opening your entrance, welcoming him in as a grunt left his kiss-bruised lips, pressed against your throat. Pausing; savoring the sensation of him for a moment, you stilled before lowering down onto him, feeling every inch of his thickness fill you up.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “your pussy was made for me.”

With your hand on his chest, you could feel Dean's heart pounding against your palm as you stayed seated on his cock, the thick length of him pressing against your womb; and he could feel it too, your heat sucking him in.

Another curse left his lips, “you need to start moving, baby.”

Your body was completely under his demand; moving in a steady rhythm, hips swaying in time with his. You could feel the heat radiating between your bodies, a crescendo of pleasure building as your movements increased in intensity.

Your hips moved in slow circles. Dean’s hands moved from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. Moans and grunts mixed together, the room’s temperature rising, the explicit sounds of your wetness shamelessly filling the quiet night.

Hands on his thighs, leaning back, Dean’s gaze shifted to the place you were connected; he watched you take him in, your slick walls spread wide to accommodate his size, his cock completely soaked by your wetness as the mix of your arousal dripped on his lap.

Leaning down, you kissed the man deeply, tongues entwining in a passionate embrace as his hands gripped your breasts, fondling and playing with the soft flesh. Arching your back, you pushed to create more friction between your bodies before Dean’s hand moved to your achingly longing nub of nerves, spreading your juices over it while he toyed with it.

His breaths grew heavier, your moans louder as you both moved together in an unstoppable, passionate dance. Your body rocked and writhed as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy, and when he finally let you reach the peak of pleasure, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pure delight. Dean's touch had been like a drug, and now you were completely addicted.

His hips continued to thrust upwards, riding you through your high as his stare stayed locked on your body; he admired you, devouring every detail of your body with his eyes. The stretch marks on your thighs, the noticeable stab wound on your stomach from the witch hunt you went on a few months ago that he wanted to kiss away, or the small bird tattoo under your right breast that made him want to trace with his tongue. He wanted to remember every part of you, to be able to recall each detail and feel the same desire he did now, if not more.

Dean slowly raised himself up and pulled you into his arms, his lips on yours before you could even take a breath. His tongue caressed your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you eagerly obliged, granting him access to explore your mouth to its fullest. His fingers sought out the curves of your body, exploring and inviting a passionate response from you.

You felt Dean's cock swell inside you as his breath became ragged; knowing he was near, you ground your hips into him, keeping him deep within your walls, reveling in the feeling of his head kissing your insides. The intensity of the sensations was almost too much to bear, but you welcomed it, wanting to feel every inch of him.

The feel of his hot, pulsing cock inside of you made your inner walls quiver with pleasure, a low moan of delight escaping your lips as Dean's thrusts became more erratic and urgent. His head burrowed into your chest, warm breath fanning between your breasts as his hands clutched your hips, pushing himself even deeper into you. His body trembled as his climax neared, his moans intensifying as the waves of pleasure took over. Finally, with a loud grunt, Dean released his hot seed deep inside of you, his trembling body almost collapsing into yours.

Both of you stayed still for a moment as you could feel the cum slowly dripping out, staining Dean’s thighs. Your breathing filled the silence, and then Dean reached out and ran his fingers along the length of your arm, sending shivers of pleasure through your body; his touch gentle.

He pulled you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as his lips brushed yours softly; it was like a silent understanding - you both knew that everything changed at this moment.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Will Find You in the Dark Masterlist

Dean and Julie's story continues through turbulent times in the Winchester's life. Can Dean and Julie survive through it all? Can their love survive?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[yourmomxx]

a pearl ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: There were many things in life that Dean Winchester learned to regret. Taking the mark of Cain in order to kill Abbadon and save the world had not been one of them. Until everything just gets way too much for him to handle, and you are the one that has to burn in the crossfire.

Warnings: canon violence, blood, angst, spoilers but not really, moc!dean, swearing so if you’re the CW look away

Word Count: 2.6k

Flashbacks are written in italics

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAUGE

━━━ ❝ Iᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I fᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ ❞ ━━━

Regret is a funny thing, somehow. At least I think so.

When you do something terrible, you can feel regret or remorse. So much, you get overwhelmed, forget to show it. So much you might start treating the people around you different.

“Sam?” Dean urged through the phone in a pressed voice. His breathing was ragged when he talked. “Sammy please, I need you to come here quick, something … something happened!”

“Dean it’s alright, calm down, where are you?” Immediately, Sam slapped his laptop closed.

Over the phone, he heard his brother stifle a sob. “I don’t … I don’t know Sammy, just please hurry, I-” His voice broke. “I think I fucked up, Sam, big time.”

“It’s alright Dean, just hang in there, I’ll come and get you.”

“Thanks.” Dean’s voice was small as he answered.

You can feel regret and decide that the outcome of the situation was worth it, and do it again.

When Sam arrived at the old warehouse and saw Dean, kneeling on the floor and covered in blood, he was worried.

You can feel regret, ask for redemption and forgiveness, but don’t get it.

As he let his gaze wander and it fell upon you, laying limb in Dean’s bloody arms, he was worried sick.

And even if you do get forgiven, who is to say that the guilt will stop haunting you?

“The doctors took her into surgery.” Sam carefully looked at his older brother, whose hands and shirt were still stained with your dried blood. “They said that she might not make it.”

“She will make it,” Dean said. The doctors were wrong, they are always wrong. They would be wrong this time, too.

Regret is buried deep in Dean Winchester. Rooted, even. He regrets many things. He was forgiven, then he was not, he pushed away the people around him in trying to not repeat his last mistakes, sometimes succeeded, sometimes he didn’t.

There were many things he felt guilty for. Too many, if you asked his brother Sam.

“What exactly happened in there, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. But that was a lie, because he did.

But he didn’t want to admit what he had done. Why he had done it. It turned his stomach around. There was a reason why Dean hadn’t looked Sam in the eye since he arrived.

He was sitting in your room again.

He was feeling regret about what happened. Again. He was doing that a lot, too, lately.

After the … incident, he mostly avoided talking to you. That had been just a few days ago.

He had even avoided seeing you since you returned to the Bunker, unless absolutely necessary.

Because just as he predicted, the doctors had turned out to be wrong: you had actually made it. After a light coma and a surgery, but you had made it.

When the nurse had told them you were free to go, Dean had been the one to bring you home. Still wrapped in the white clinical sheets and clothing that the nurses had given you, but he had brought you home.

So no, he hadn’t talked to you in days. Not seen you either, for that matter. Just cut you off like that.

And, to his genuine surprise, you had let him.

Normally, you would try everything in your power to talk to him, talk him out of his drowning thoughts, convince him that what had happened wasn’t his fault.

But not this time.

And that only substantiated his feeling that you truly hated him this time. Weren’t able to forgive him. And how could he blame you? He couldn’t even forgive himself.

But he missed you and it tore at him.

He missed the way that you would hold him when he ever so rarely let himself cry, and he missed the way your voice would whisper sweet words of reassurance in his ear in a low tone.

He missed your fingers gently scarding through his hair, and at his scalp, to soothe him.

He missed you humming the low tunes of some made-up song in the late evening, when you were laying in each other’s arms, right before falling asleep.

And he missed dancing with you. Just putting on whatever vinyl it was you could find in his room and then swaying to the sound of the music, wrapped around each other and being at peace, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He missed you so much.

On the shelf, leaned against the wall, the TV played some cheesy 80’s romance movie. It was the late night program.

Dean was tuning it out. He had stopped listening a long while ago, anyway.

No, his mind was playing a movie on its own. One that was specially designed for Dean Winchester. Written by Dean Winchester, starring Dean Winchester - and Y/N Y/L/N.

A tragic love story, with drama, hurt, betrayal, forgiveness.

In his mind, Dean could still feel the heavy weight of the blade resting in the palm of his hand. It hadn’t felt like this in the warehouse - or had it? He wasn’t sure.

Who was he lying to, it had felt light. Perfectly shaped for him, and him only. In that moment, everything had felt perfectly shaped.

It took the sound of the weapon driving through your skin and into your organs, that made him realize that nothing was perfect. Or carved out for him, that the blade wasn’t light but actually weighed too much to carry, that’s why he let it fall out of his hand and clatter to the ground, that’s why he rushed to your hurt body on the floor -

“Hey.”

Dean’s head shot up at the sound of your voice clear next to him, fast enough to probably break his neck.

He threw a quick glance at the door, then you again. “Hey,” he said back.

You stood awkwardly a few steps next to the bed, fumbling your fingers and trying to hold his gaze.

The only sound was the program still playing on the television and Dean decided that he should perhaps turn it off if he hoped for a conversation to start.

While he was fumbling for the remote, you turned your attention to the movie playing on the screen.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Sixteen Candles,” you said, and so you were the first to talk.

“I’m not.” He found the remote, and pressed the small red button to turn off the TV.

You put your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and slowly whipped back and forth on your feet.

Dean’s thoughts were short circuiting and he felt his heartbeat fasten. He tried to not look into your direction too much, and his eyes flickered back and forth between the many items in his room.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he realized that you had moved to sit down on the bed next to him. Funny, he hadn’t even felt the mattress dip.

Dean straightened his back and moved his knees closer together, to minimalize every possibility of you guys accidentally touching each other.

He hated that, so did you. But neither did anything to change it.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, indicating that you were meaning to start a conversation, but somehow, you said nothing. Just sat there, looking at him, brows furrowed in concern.

Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker around his room, unsure of what to do, and eventually land back on him again.

“We should probably talk.”

“About what?” Dean knew the words were nonsense as soon as they left his mouth. Of course he knew about what, but part of him didn’t want to realize that you were finally here for it.

“About what happened.” Your voice was strong as you said it. He admired you for it.

Tears were burning in his eyes, and God, how he hated himself for it, because he had cried enough that day.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. Your demeanor didn’t change.

“About what?” It was your turn to ask, your voice soft and silk and catching his fall. Dean almost laughed at you.

“What I did to you,” he sniffled, and shit, when did the tears start actually falling? He wiped them away aggressively. This is not at all how he figured this would go.

“Dean.” The feather light touch of your fingers on his naked skin made him turn. Goosebumps started rising where you touched him, your hand was so cold.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Now he was laughing. Bitter, biting and short, but it was a laugh. Unbelieving.

“Right. I was just the one that drove the Blade through your organs.”

You didn’t even flinch at his wording. Or the dark glare that followed after. Your eyes were so soft, and adoring, eyebrows scrunched together, and Dean knew he had never seen something as beautiful as the woman before him.

When you reached out to rest a hand on his cheek, he found himself leaning into your touch. Your fingers were still cold.

“Dean,” your voice barely above a whisper, and when had he closed his eyes?

“I know that wasn’t you. You were controlled by something so purely evil, that it was eating you up. You had no control over the things that you did. Look at me.”

Dean shifted his gaze. “I know you would never hurt me.”

And you said it with such force, and certainty, that Dean felt it practically piercing through him. His shoulders slumped, a hard breath left his mouth, and before he could register what happened, he was slumped against you, breathing in your warm scent of woods and perfume, and wrapped his arms around your torso to hold onto you for dear life.

He noticed your hands carefully scarding through his hair, and thought, that this was all he had been dreaming of for the past few days.

He loved you so much.

Minutes felt like hours, and those felt like seconds, as the two of you held each other, bathing in the other’s presence, warmth, comfort.

A pathetic whine almost left Dean’s throat as protest when you carefully pushed him off you, but he held it back.

He watched as you stood up, smooth and elegant, and walked over to a different corner of his room. Your steps were eaten by the carpeted floor.

Dean saw you take a vinyl from the shelf and carefully pull it out of the cover, laying it on the record player.

A crackling sound was the first thing to be heard, before the needle reached the engraved lines.

Then, the first tunes of Kitty Kallen’s It’s been a long long time sounded through the room.

You took a few steps closer to him, hips swaying lightly to the tune. Your arms were stretched out in an invitation, and at the sight of your joyous grin, Dean couldn’t do anything else than smile back.

He knew if it came to it, you could make entire armies fall knee to that smile.

He took your invitation to join you gladly. Your skin didn’t feel as cold against his anymore, though that could be only because his hands were warm.

The smile didn’t leave both of your lips as you dragged him closer.

And though he wasn’t inhaling, to Dean this felt like the first breath he had taken in days. Your lips were soft against his, and he felt feverish, in the best possible way one could do.

It was soft, and loving, and he adored it.

As you pulled away from him, you carefully nestled your head under his chin, resting right on top of his chest.

Absentmindedly, Dean closed his eyes, let the tunes of the song wash over him, and lazily swayed side to side with you in his arms. He was sure you could hear his heartbeat under his shirt. A heart that beat only for your love.

This was what his hands had been shaped to do, since the dawn of time. Not for the blood, or the murder, or the irrationality. No, for this right here, holding you close to him, his head on top of your hair and bodies pressed against each other as if it was the last time he would ever see you.

“Kiss me once,” you drew your head back from his chest, a mischievous glint in your eye, “Then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again.”

Dean smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You’re unreal.”

“I know.” You grinned and pressed a chaste kiss on his pink lips.

When you looked back at Dean, a soft grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked him reproachfully, but your playful undertones gave you away.

“I just love hearing you talk,” he admitted.

Then why did you kill her for it?

“Is that so?” you asked him teasingly.

I didn’t.

“Yes.”

Your smile was beaming up at him and filling him with the warmth of a million suns, and he suddenly didn’t know how he could believe that you would ever be able to hate him.

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a kiss that said more than his words possibly could, and with a comfortable sigh, you snuggled into his chest and closed your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and never wanting to let you go.

He would never let you go.

—

The sound of the slow song carried through the hallways, a faint melody like the whispering breeze of a wind.

Sam Winchester heard its soothing tune from where he was standing in the library, next to him a black haired man in a trenchcoat, an angel, Castiel.

The pair was looking at the massive wooden table that the hunter and his brother often used to keep their research. Today, that table was empty, empty of books and laptops that was.

A bundle was laid on it, wrapped in white linen and laced up with split thread. Like a macabre package.

Sam felt sick, staring at the covered, dead body of another fallen friend. A sister to him. And to Dean … to Dean a lover. A rock. A spark of good in his sea of bad.

Sam still didn’t know what exactly had happened in the warehouse that night. All he knew was that Dean had his blood on your hands, in the literal sense of the word, and that his eyes had held a vacant expression.

He remembered the moment the doctor’s informed him about your death and how he had grieved you, and how he told Dean, but how it didn’t seem to get through to him.

He remembered Dean carrying your body out of the hospital, and retiring to his room the moment they had reached the bunker, and how he hadn’t come out since.

We need to bury her, Sam, Cas had said. It can’t go on like this.

Sam’s answer had always been the same. Let’s just give him more time.

But Sam knew that Castiel was right, there was no use to dragging this out any longer, and still, he hesitated.

No, he wouldn’t hold the funeral without Dean. And Dean was nowhere ready to attend a funeral.

“We should tell him,” said Cas. His gaze was fixed on the white bundle lying on the table.

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah, we should.”

But neither of them moved an inch, not even as they heard Dean’s soft mumbles out of his room, while the slow record in the next room gently came to a harmonic end.

━━━━━━ ❝ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ❞ ━━━━━━

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What if Crowley(spn) had a kid and the Winchester’s almost kill them? What would/how Crowley do/react and what would the Winchester’s do?🤔

That’s My Goddamn Daughter!

Team Free Will x cambion!reader

When Castiel locates another cambion, potentially with the power to kill a knight of hell, he and the Winchesters go after her but then Crowley shows up claiming she’s his daughter.

Warnings:  MOC Dean, mentions of rape but really just misunderstandings, blood, concussions, I have no medical knowledge, swearing, reader gets knocked out a lot lol

WC: 2.2k

A/N: I kind of want to do a part 2 to this. What do you guys think?

Minors DNI

“I’m sorry what? Can you repeat that?” Castiel sighed, slightly exacerbated. He thought he explained the situation pretty well. Dean’s eyes were wide in both shock and disbelief and Sam just looked exhausted.

“Like I said before, there is another cambion in existence and she could be the answer to the Mark.” Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer and glowered at the angel.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before now?”

“Dean.” Sam started but the elder held up his hand to stop him. Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself for a classic Dean tirade that always seemed to come when he presented the brothers with a new lead.

“You’re hiding things from us, lying. How do we even know if this so-called cambion is the real deal? Why didn’t she show up before?” The angel’s eyes rolled, why did they have such trouble understanding?

“There was a spell concealing her from the angels’ view but for some reason, that spell is now gone. I assumed it was tied to someone in her family, possibly the parent that was a demon. But now, that demon is dead so the spell is gone.” Sam seemed to accept that answer but Dean was more skeptical.

“So what do we do if we do find this girl? Just ask her to come back with us for tea and cake? She most likely knows that daddy dearest was a demon and might want revenge and we are probably the ones that did it or we know them. So what then?” 

Sam leaned against the war room table beside his brother. “Dean’s right. Remember that kid Jesse, he had a whole town under his thumb without even thinking about it and he was just a kid. What could an adult with an obviously powerful parent do?” Dean nodded along and Cas had the distinct urge to smite them both.

“We need to take that chance. She might be our best shot at killing Cain without the First Blade.” Dean huffed, still clearly miffed at being so blatantly brushed off by the angel. 

“Alright fine but you can’t get mad at me when I say I told you so when this inevitably goes wrong.” He shrugged and Cas smirked slightly, happy to get his way.

——————

“Well that was easier than expected.” Dean sulked, sitting on the motel room bed pouting like a child. The woman had been easy to find, in fact it was too easy. She was a goddamn librarian in a small town where everyone knew her face.

No locks on her doors, no weapons in the house. She welcomed them in with open arms after Sam fed her their story of being lost and needing directions. She gave them pie and lemonade, answering every question they asked, including Dean’s flirtatious ask about a boyfriend.

Her head dipped and she avoided eye contact as she shyly replied that no, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Sam smacked Dean upside the head for that when she wasn’t looking. Cas, getting sick of the circling conversation mixed with too much human lust, had stepped forward and knocked her out with his grace.

He caught her soft body as she crumpled, ignoring the pointed looks the brothers sent him. “She would’ve come willingly.” Sam pointed out but Cas replied with a simple, “There isn’t enough time for you two to ‘convince’ her.”

Sam blushed and Dean just smirked, too proud of himself. They quickly smuggled her out to the car and started the long journey home. Now, they were taking a break for the night and Dean watched as the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of everything going on in the world.

“She really doesn’t seem demonic. She’s just-“

“Nice.” Dean finished his brother’s sentence for him, saying the word like it disgusted him. “Are you sure she’s the half-breed we want?” Again, Castiel was questioning why his destiny was intertwined with the Winchesters. Y/N shifted in her sleep, curling up on her side cutely, giving out a large sigh.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, intensely watching the men who flanked her on both sides, like guards watching over their ward. “I can sense her power, it is far greater than any other cambion. Her blood has old magic in it, she is quite possibly descended from a natural witch.”

Sam froze, his entire body going stiff with surprise. “I’m sorry, so this girl is a product of a natural witch and a demon.” Cas shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“No, the magic is too deluded for the witch to be her mother or father, it is more likely that it is her grandparent.” Sam’s eyes flicked down to the girl, somehow already feeling incredibly protective of her. She was by far the kindest person he had met in a very long time, how could she have such evil in her blood? But he was wary, both because of her power and the fear of what could happen should she succumb to that power. He knew that feeling, that rush from demon blood, how addicting it could be.

Dean could feel the heat radiating from her body as she rolled closer to him. The mark was quiet around her, soothed like a feral cat getting love for the first time in its life. But how dark could she get, what was she capable of? And who in the hell was her demonic parent?

“We should keep moving. If we found her so quick, there’s no telling who else would be coming after her.” Cas nodded and fluttered away, presumably to ensure that no demons had followed them.

Dean moved away from her as quickly as he could, a curling in his gut making him feel like he should be repulsed by her but her presence also called to him. He fished a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from  his duffle bag and settled himself in the chair in the far corner of the room. “Get some shut eye, I’ll take first watch.”

Sam pulled a ratty blanket over top of her, careful to not wake her and took a seat on the other bed. “Do you think this could work?” Silence settled over the brothers.

“It’s our only shot.” And with that, Sam settled back against the thin pillows, keen to get any rest he could to escape his swirling thoughts.

——————

A rattling woke Dean from his alcohol induced slumber. With a groan, he lifted his head from the back of the chair he had accidentally fallen asleep on. His neck screamed in pain but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm.

The mark burned and the rattling became louder. His green eyes fluttered open, only able to see vague shapes in the dark room. A shadow stood by the door, their hand on the knob, desperately trying to open it. “Please please please.” Her voice was filled with tears and a panic that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sweetheart.” The sound of his own voice made her work even faster at trying to open the door, but it was of no use. She screamed and Dean bolted forward. Moving faster than even he could comprehend, he grabbed her, wrapping a large palm over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise.

Her back hit the mattress with an exhale of air through her nose. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breathing quickening becoming erratic as his muscular body settled between her plump thighs, shoving her skirt up her legs. She tried to grab at Dean’s shoulders to shove him off but using his free hand he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

Tears rolled down her temples, wetting the sheets below them. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to trust me.” Her head shook furiously beneath his hold, on the edge of hysterics. 

“Dean?” Sam muttered sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “What’s going on?” His hair stuck up in all different directions as he lazily looked around the room. His eyes landed on the situation in front of him and everyone froze.

Suddenly, the room exploded. With no hesitation, Sam launched himself at his older brother and tackled him to the floor. “What the hell were you doing!” Dean thrashed violently.

“She was trying to run! I had to stop her.” 

Sam snarled. “Not by doing that.” Dean landed a good punch to his jaw, knocking Sam for a loop but his grip remained strong even as his head spun.

Seeing her chance, Y/N slipped from the bed as quietly as she could but her legs gave out as soon as she rocked forward onto her feet. She yelped, catching the boys’ attention and they watched her fall, almost in slow motion.

Her head slammed against the corner of the bed before slamming into the floor. Blood pooled under her forehead, her eyes went hazy before they shut. “Shit!” Sam scrambled off of his brother, fear coursing through his veins like a fire. He slid a hand under her head, cupping her face gently. “C’mon open those eyes for me.” 

But she didn’t respond. Thick fingers fit against the dip of her throat, and he struggled to find her pulse. When he finally did, it was thready and weak but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive, probably a bad concussion though.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, sitting up against the bed frame. “Why does this shit always happen to us?” As gently as he could manage with shaking hands, Sam lifted Y/N into his arms, resting her face against his strong chest. He could now feel the way her own chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Sam laid her on his unmade bed, keeping her on her side in case she got sick. The wound, a small gash on her right temple, had slowed its bleeding. It wouldn’t require stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages. “I don’t know, Dean.” He sighed and got to work fixing her up.

Meanwhile, Dean was stewing, thinking. She could have used her powers to save him off, to escape but she didn’t. She was just a normal girl getting involved in something that she didn’t want to do. “What are we doing Sammy? That girl doesn’t have any powers, she’s just a kid.” 

“Without the blade, we have no chance at getting rid of the Mark. She’s our best shot.” But there was no conviction in his tone. Sam was also doubting the integrity of this plan but he was desperate. Dean with the blade was far more dangerous than this girl could ever be, they needed her.

“How dare you touch my daughter!” The door burst violently, shattering under the force at which it was hit. Crowley stood, absolutely fuming in the entryway, eyes red with pure rage. Sam and Dean sprung into action, their guns drawn.

“What are you talking about Crowley?” Dean shifted so his body blocked the demon’s view of the girl on the bed. His shoulders were tense, the Mark telling him to protect her with everything he had. But apparently, Crowley wasn’t having any of it today.

With a wave of his hand, the boys went flying into the wall, their guns tossed away and ropes appearing from nothing to pin them down. “I told you I would find the blade and this is how you repay me! You kidnapped my daughter! Lust after her! And then you harm her!” His voice thundered through the room, shaking the foundations of the building with his fury. “You sniveling weasels! I kept her out of this life for a reason!”

The Winchesters struggled against his hold. Crowley loomed over the double bed, intensely staring at the woman. “She was never meant to know. I just wanted her to have a normal life.” 

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger as the demon leaned forward and cupped her round cheek with one hand while the other brushed against the bandage on her forehead. “Don’t touch her.” The hunter snarled. His arm burned as the mark screamed at him to rip apart anyone that even so much as looked in her direction.

A vein in Sam’s neck ticked in time with his pulse while he pulled at his bonds. He could feel the loosening of the ropes around his wrist. An angel blade rested on the chair Dean had been occupying, if he could get even one arm free, he could grab it. “You are the ones that hurt her! Not me!” Crowley snapped but didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Last warning.” But he disregarded the Winchesters and instead lifted Y/N from the bed, taking extra care not to hit her any more than she already was.

Her face easily tucked into the dark material of his suit shirt as he held her close. “Stay away from my daughter.” And with that, both him and the ropes disappeared, leaving only her sweater and the bitter smell of sulphur.

The boys collapsed to the ground. Dean wasted no time as he scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to reach the now gone pair.

“Son of a bitch!”

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[k-slla]

Oh, that whole "voices in his head" take was so interesting! And the angst! I loved it! 🩷😍

Under Control

Pairing: Moc!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean keeps reassuring you that he has everything under control in terms of the Mark. But does he really?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Smut (Insanely brief P in V), Non-Canon Elements, Talks of murder & Fluff

Authors Note: Dreams are in italics | Bold italics are the voices | I know Dean never really heard voices when he had MOC, but I thought it would be interesting to add for this fic | I’ve had this sitting in my drafts since December and I honestly have no idea why | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You were lying underneath Dean as he was peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone; every so often nipping at your skin. It wasn’t enough to leave any marks, but it was just enough for you to let out those pretty little soft sounding moans he had loved hearing so much. “Dean,” you moaned out; your nails pressing into his back. You ran them along his back, and it was his turn to let out a groan.

“Yeah Sweetheart?” He whispered, sucking on your neck a little rougher now as he wanted to leave marks now. Your hands went to the back of his head now, and you gripped his hair, slightly tugging.

He felt your lips on his earlobe, and the corners of your lips turned into a smirk. “Need your cock inside of me,” you whispered, and kissed just below his earlobe.

“Hmm,” he sat up a little, slightly straddling you; careful not to hurt you. Your hands went to his abdomen, and your fingertips started to slowly inch closer and closer to his cock that was pressed up slightly against your thigh. “Slow or rough today?”

“What do you think?” You smirked, biting your bottom lip.

He took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with your entrance, the tip barely touching you. “Rough it is,” he smirked, pressing his cock inside of you.

“Fuck…” you moaned, trailing off. You shut your eyes, and the look on your face was that of pure and absolute bliss.

Watching your face now as he pushed himself fully inside of you, he went to his side of the bed and opened up the side table drawer. “Ready Sweetheart?” He asked, pulling out The First Blade from the drawer and closing it.

“Uh huh,” you moaned, your eyes still shut.

“Gonna go on three,” he said, smirking.

“Baby don’t tease me,” you said, and you were about to open your eyes. But his hand went quickly over your eyes, covering them firmly.

“No peeking,” he grinned.

“Okay, okay. I’m ready when you are,” your voice sounding the happiest it’s been in a while.

“One…two…three…” he counted as he plunged the blade into your heart.

Dean woke up, sitting and panting, slightly covered in a thin layer of sweat. He turned to look at your side of the bed, and you were still lying on your side sound asleep.

He fell back into bed and stared up at the ceiling briefly before he turned to his side to look at your closed eyes staring back at him. He was still panting, and his heart was still racing; but it started to slow a bit as he looked at your face. You looked so peaceful, and he was so curious as to what you were dreaming about.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, and a small smile formed on your lips. It was almost like you knew he was doing this; but he knew for a fact that you were still asleep. “Love…you…too…” you mumbled, and he smiled; now knowing that you were dreaming about him. But that smile didn’t last for long, as it quickly turned into a frown. Here you were dreaming about him telling you he loved you, but in his, he was killing you.

Dean pulled his hand away, as he felt the darkness start to creep up. “Do it,” the voice said from inside of him. “Take the blade and do it,” it continued.

“No,” he whispered. Your body started to stir a little as you readjusted to lying on your stomach now; your arms underneath the pillow.

“She’s right there,” the voice said. “She wants you to do it.”

“No,” Dean whispered again. He threw the blankets; uncovering himself, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing you.

“Her blood would look so pretty staining the blade…” the voice continued. “Watching the light go out of her eyes…”

“Dean?” It was your voice now, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually you talking or the voices in his head pretending to be you in order to trick him. But he felt your hands on his shoulders, your cheek pressed up against his back. “What are you doing up?” You asked, pressing a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Did you have a nightmare?” Your voice was so calm, so soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his volume just slightly above a whisper.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, pressing another kiss on his skin.

He thought about it for a moment but didn’t want to worry you; as you already worried too much about him. “No,” he answered, and quickly got out of bed. “Gonna go shower.”

You looked over at the clock as you watched him walk toward the bedroom door. “Dean, it’s 2:38 in the morning. Come back to bed and we can watch a movie or something,” your voice slightly begging, but was still so calm.

He wanted to just crawl back into bed with you, but he needed to get away from you, slightly afraid that he would actually hurt you. “Gonna go shower,” he repeated.

“I’ll take one with you,” you offered, and without looking, he knew that there was a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Again, he wanted more than anything for you to come and shower with him, but he didn’t want to hurt you. “No,” he said. “Wanna be alone,” he continued.

Before you could comment, he walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door quickly behind him, leaving you on the bed with a slightly sad and worried look on your face.

Dean turned on the shower once he stepped inside and let the steaming hot water run down his skin. “Should have invited her in. Easy clean up,” the voice said.

The voice kept repeating, and he couldn’t stop it. The only way he knew how was to actually go and kill something. But the world had been quiet lately, which was usually a great thing, but not since he’s had the Mark and the darkness inside of him had been getting more and more dominant.

You laid back down in bed, deciding to stay on your side; your face looking at the door in case Dean decided to come back in; but you were unsure if he would given how he just was. You knew that he wanted to be alone, but you didn’t want him to be alone.

There was a lot you didn’t know when it came to the Mark and how it was affecting him. But you knew it wasn’t good. As much as you wanted to help in trying to find a cure or a way to remove it alongside Sam, you knew he was fighting a losing battle. You were pretty sure he did too, but he just didn’t want to come to terms with it just yet.

Getting out of the shower, Dean looked at himself in the mirror briefly before he started to feel the Mark slightly pulsate on his arm. “Just kill her,” the voice said. “You’ll feel so much better,” it continued. “She’ll forgive you. She loves you.”

“Won’t do it,” Dean whispered to himself.

“Why not?” The voice answered back. “You said so yourself. You need to kill something. So why not her?”

“Because I…” Dean started, but the voice simply laughed.

“See, you can’t even say the word love. Pathetic,” the voice mocked.

“Shut up,” Dean whispered to himself.

“Pathetic,” the voice repeated.

“Shut up,” Dean whispered again, more annoyed this time.

“The only thing you’re good for is killing,” the voice said.

“I said shut up!” Dean yelled, no longer a whisper as he punched the mirror in front of him; glass shattering everywhere.

About to shut your eyes, you heard what sounded like glass shattering coming from the bathroom. “What the…” you whispered to yourself. You removed the sheets from yourself, and stepped out of bed, making your way toward the bedroom door.

“Son of a bitch!” You heard Dean yell, and again, the sound of more glass shattering.

Walking out of the bedroom, you saw Sam open his bedroom door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Is Dean okay?” He asked you, his voice half asleep.

“He’s…he’s having a rough night,” you said, slightly sighing. “I think he punched the mirror again.”

“Want me to come help?” He asked.

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry. I got it. Just go back to sleep.”

“Alright,” he nodded, closing his bedroom door again.

Walking into the bathroom, Dean was on his knees trying to pick up the glass from the multiple mirrors that he punched. His knuckles were bloodied and cut up, and it looked like his knees were slightly bloodied too, probably from the broken glass on the floor.

As he was picking up a giant chunk, he looked up at you, the two of you making eye contact. “Go back to bed,” he said, his tone slightly demanding. “I got it.”

“Let me help you,” you stated, walking over to the closet and pulling out a broom and dustpan. “It’ll go faster with this and with two people,” you added.

“I don’t need your help,” he slightly mumbled, continuing to pick up the glass. His tone was less angry now, more maybe embarrassed sounding. But he had no reason to be. You weren’t upset with him, nor was Sam, the two of you were more worried about him than anything.

“Well too bad, because I want to help you,” you said. It was now your turn to have a bit of a more demanding voice. You started working around Dean, who insisted on continuing to pick up the glass with his hands as you started to sweep up some of the pieces into the dustpan with the broom. Every so often the two of you made eye contact and you would gently smile at him, hoping that it would let him know that you weren’t upset or angry.

After a few moments, Dean sighed, and the pieces of glass that he had started to pick up, he placed into the dustpan that you were using. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you reassured.

“I keep breaking the fucking mirror,” he added. “Second time this week and it’s only fucking Wednesday.”

“And that’s why I buy these mirrors from Five and Below,” you grinned. “Don’t worry, I have a whole stock pile.”

“Which you shouldn’t have to do,” he sighed.

“I rather you punch a two dollar mirror than kill an innocent person,” you said, throwing the glass away. “And see, it didn’t take that long to clean up at all.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“She’s not that innocent,” the voice said. “She said she doesn’t want you killing innocent people. She doesn’t count you know. You’ve seen it with your own two eyes.”

“She’s a good person,” he mumbled to himself.

“Say something Sweetheart?” You asked, closing the closet door once putting the broom and dustpan back.

He met your gaze, not realizing that he had answered the voice out loud with you in the room. “I said, can you help me patch myself up?” He lied.

“Of course,” you smiled. “Let’s go back to the bedroom and do it. That’s where my kit is.” You walked over to him, holding out your hand for him to take it, and he simply just looked at it.

“I don’t wanna get your hand all bloody Sweetheart,” he said.

“Dean, I’ve had your blood on me plenty of times. And other fluids,” you winked, trying to lighten the mood. “Your blood ain’t gonna kill me. Besides, we have a sink in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” he finally agreed, taking your hand.

Sitting on the floor of the bedroom now, you carefully started to clean the blood from his knuckles; and the stare that he was giving you was one of the most intense stares you had ever seen from him before. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you smirked.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Don’t be,” you reassured. “I don’t mind you staring. It’s not like you’re some creep. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Who doesn’t tell you that he loves you enough,” he mumbled.

“Dean —” you started to say, but he quickly interrupted you.

“It’s true,” he continued.

“Dean, I know you love me even if you don’t say it all the time,” you said, starting to bandage his knuckles. “Is that what your nightmare was about?”

“I killed you,” he finally admitted. “I took The First Blade and I just killed you.”

Your motions started to slow as if you were trying to process what he had just said to you. “How often do you have that one?” Your voice seemingly unfazed by his admission.

“More often than I would like.” As much as he had wanted to tell you how frequent they were, he knew that would only make you more nervous and afraid about him — two things he never wanted you to ever feel around him. But he needed you to know at least to some extent that he does have these dreams, and has them relatively often.

“Well, Crowley has the blade hidden, so you don’t have to worry about killing me with it,” you said, finishing up bandaging him.

“But we have other weapons here Sweetheart. I mean I could kill you with my —” you cut him off by kissing him, and he was slightly surprised by this action. Yes, you’ve done this plenty of other times before (he’s even done it to you a few times), but kissing him after he openly admitted that he has dreams about killing you, was something that he didn’t expect to happen.

“I know that you won’t kill me,” you said. “And if you try, I’ll kick your ass,” you grinned. “Now, let’s get back to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he said.

“Who said we were sleeping?” You smirked.

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[deangirlsstuff67]

Good Girl

MOC! Dean x Reader

Warnings: Praise, sex toys, MOC! Dean, bondage, Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, anal play, P in V, dirty talk

Summary: Dean and Sam are fighting yet again. You hear glass shatter against a wall, followed by a very angry Sam slamming his door. Feeling brave, you go in search of Dean.

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

They're at it again. Those two fight worse than a married couple these days. Makes sense given the current situation we all find ourselves living in. I just don't think angering Dean is the wisest choice, he's already on the edge most days. It would take a soft wind to blow him over.

Sadly, your new to hunting, meaning the guys don't listen to you on a good day. Couple years ago Dean and Sam saved your crazy ass when a nest of vampires came to town and killed your family. You are 22 years old and bought the boys enough whiskey at the local bar to make them agree you could come back to the bunker.

Dean tries to avoid you as much as possible. While you don't get the feeling he hates you, you do know you make him uncomfortable.

Sam has taken you under his wing as a little sister. Teachs you the basics of fighting and makes you read lore book after lore book. And in this place I think I'll be dead before I get through it all.

Even Cas has taken a liking to you. He teaches you about angels and you teach him how to be less awkward, it's sort of working.

Glass shattering brings you back to the present.

Well fuck, that can't be a good sign. Moments later heavy, angry foot steps deasend the hallway and a door slams. Sam's door, meaning Dean's still out there... pissed.

With a loud sigh you get out of bed. You're wearing one Dean's flannels and black lacy underwear. You've always had a crush on the older Winchester. Tonight you're hoping the outfit will work like armor. Dean's a ladies man after all, and your not bad looking if you say so yourself.

Slowly and quietly you make your way towards the command center in search of the ticking time bomb known as Dean. This is most definitely a bad idea but you can't stand the thought of him alone with all that rage running through his veins.

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

The scene you walk in on saddens your soul. Dean has the bottle of amber liquor sitting beside him as he stares at the wall and broken glass. So lost in his own head he doesn't hear me coming until I'm standing in front of him.

Those bright green eyes rake up and down my body, the farther they travel the darker they become. When he drags his eyes back to mine they are damn near pitch black. Lust sparkling in them.

Oh fuck.

You try to sound strong and confident, but let's face it this man melts you into a puddle at his feet.

"Dean..." your voice is higher than normal, barely above a whisper, "are you o... okay?"

His breathing is labored, coming out in deep puffs that shake his shoulders. To look at him you'd think he was on the verge of murder. But it's his eyes, they tell a very different story.

"That’s my shirt y/n." The way your name rolls of his tongue is dangerous. Sending a warmth straight to your core, making you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together.

His eyes snap down to your soaking core. Shit, he noticed. Of course he did, wouldn't be a good hunter if he didn't have reflexes of a cat.

"I didnt think you'd mind. I need to do laundry. " You go to reach for his hand but he stands abruptly. Without a word he turns to leave the room, and you.

Why Dean.

Not this time. You rush him from behind but your plan back fires. Next thing you know Dean has you pinned against the wall and his hard body. Very hard... ALL of it.

After a couple moments of silence you have to ask, "why do you always run from me?"

A smile curls those perfectly soft lips before he lightly pumps his hips into yours, making his hard cock rub deliciously against your dripping core.

Well fuck, it's not that he hates me, it's that he likes me... a lot.

Now or never y/n.

Feeling brave you look him dead in the eye and ask, "why don't you use some of that pent up anger for some good big guy?" Finishing off by grabbing his cock through his jeans, hard.

Groaning, Dean rips you off the wall and down the hall.

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

Bondage. Should have seen this coming in hindsight. The man thrives on control. Even more so now.

Here I am tied to Dean's bed via handcuffs. The beautiful specimen in his black boxers looking down at me as he pushes the small vibrator straight onto my bundle of nerves, again.

"Such a good girl for me. Think you have one more in that tight little pussy for me?" He moves a finger down to the plug he worked into my tight channel and softly taps.

My head is spinning from the previous orgasms he's pulled from my body already, the most I can do is let out a loud moan in answer.

This is a side of Dean I've never experienced before. He's enjoying making me cock drunk. Thriving on the power it supplies him. At least if the ever growing wet spot at the top of his boxers is any indication.

"Beg me sweetheart. Beg for my cock to fill you, stretch you." My eyes are closed but I know he's close. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Dean... pl.. please can I.. I have your co.. cock"

"You're sound so pretty when you beg Princess." He lifts the vibrator off my clit just before another orgasm rips through my body. I whimper at the lose making him laugh.

Before I have time to protest my lose, Dean positions himself between my shaking thighs and feeds his rock hard dick into my soaking core.

Groans echo off the walls of his room as we adjust to the feel of each other. He's huge. That big dick cocky energy isn't a lie, the man's packing.

"Y/N you feel amazing wrapped around my cock." Slowly he pulls out until nothing but the tip is left then he slams back in. Handcuffs rattling from the movement.

He takes me hard and fast. Working both of us into a frenzy of moans and whimpers. Soon I'm clamping down on his cock making it harder for him to pull out as I scream his name and flood his member and thighs.

It's all it takes to send him over the edge as he joins me. Rope after rope of warm cum fills my quivering walls. He's Cummings so hard I can feel it begin to leak out of me and down my thighs.

Dean collapses onto my worn-out body. Only moving to undo the handcuffs and bring my arms down to massage as he catches his breath. Once we are back on planet Earth, he eases his soften dick from my abused core, the mixture of us leaking out.

Memorized for a moment, he takes his fingers and gently pushes it back inside me, causing my to whimper.

Dean smiles down at me, satisfied and moves to the bathroom to clean up and bring me a wet cloth. After he's done cleaning us up, he grabs my body and man handles it to a postion of his liking as we cuddle together.

Moments pass in silence before Dean speaks, "thank you. That was exactly what I needed to calm the mark. You're amazing sweetheart."

"Anything for you Dean."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A soft giggle leaves my lips, "not in a bad way."

Dean sends me a naughty smirk and wink before taking my lips in a passionate kiss.

"Get some rest Princess, I have plans for us when we wake."

It's the last I hear before sleep takes my exhausted body into the land of slumber, dreaming of tomorrow and what awaits me.

[princessmisery666]

Meeting In The Darkness

Summary: You forgive Dean for what he did when he had black eyes but he can’t forgive himself.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, blood, implied torture, Demon!Dean, MOC!Dean, unresolved angst.

W/C: 2,882.

Pairing: past Dean Winchester x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: “Well one of us has to be wrong, and it’s not going to be me.”

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld and @pink-sparkly-witch helped with ideas and feedback, thank you, but it has changed a little since then.

Betas: @slytherkins // all mistakes are my own.

Graphics: made by me on canva, divider @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // JAckles Verse Bingo // Main

It’s dark. Too dark. Your gun is out along with your flashlight, scanning the corners of the abandoned warehouse but the darkness seems to swallow anything beyond the end of the barrel.

Something is off and your gut tells you to get out, run fast and far. But you won’t, at least not until you find Dean. He called hours ago, said he was hurt and needed help. He sent the location pin and it brought you here. But it doesn’t feel right, it's too…quiet. Like the shadows are listening to your heartbeat. 

You tried calling Dean when you arrived but it rang out until his voicemail picked up. Sam’s not answering his phone either, maybe he’s hurt too? 

One foot over the other, that’s all you can focus on, not the worry making your heart beat faster. You desperately wish you’d called for back-up. Jody, Donna, hell even Garth. Except it was Dean. Your affinity for the surly hunter often clouded your judgment. He might not have time for you to wait for back-up. If Dean is hurt, he needs you now, not when the sun rises, though you doubt the dawn would penetrate the dark depths of the damp smelling warehouse.

“Dean,” you call out in a soft whisper. “Sam?”

Dean’s location blips on your screen, you're standing right on top of it, but he must be a floor above you because there’s no sign of him, and you’ve checked below. You're afraid of what you’ll find, and looking down at the illuminated screen blinds you further in the blackness that surrounds you.

“This isn’t right,” you say and have the eerie feeling someone hears you. 

Your phone rings, startling you so much, it drops to the floor. Of course it lands face down so you can’t see it.

“Fuck!” 

You scramble around, flashlight scanning for it, and as you step forward, you manage to kick it further away. You follow as it slides across the dusty floor, and the corner hits the wall just as it stops ringing.

You're quick to pick it up and the smell hits you as you straighten up. It isn’t dust… 

Demons. 

You sigh with relief when Sam’s name flashes on the caller I.D again. “Sam.” 

He doesn’t offer a greeting, frantically asking, “Where are you?”

“I’m at the warehouse. Dean called, he said you-”

“Get out,” Sam panics, “get out now, run!”

You freeze, terrified to turn around as the sudden sense you aren’t alone makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. 

“Sam what’s going on?” You ask, slowly backing up, trying to follow the same path to ensure you don’t trip over anything.

“Dean isn’t Dean,” Sam explains, “the Mark, it changed him. He’s a…” he struggles to finish the sentence taking a deep breath, and he utters the word as you back into a solid chest, “demon.”

“Shit.” 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean’s voice whispers against the shell of your ear, and it sounds as dark as the shadows. 

He takes the phone from your hand and hangs up, throwing the device over his shoulder. He runs his fingers down your arms, shoulder to wrist. For the briefest of moments, you convince yourself it’s a gentle caress, a sweet ‘I missed you’ in Dean’s language, until he wraps his fingers around yours and the gun.

You forgot you had the weapon, despite Sam’s frantic warning, you’ve never feared Dean, and it’s not like you’d have shot him. But you know you’ll soon regret that thought.

“Give it up,” he instructs, with little room for argument, almost crushing your fingers beneath his. 

You surrender it, cautiously taking a half step forward and turning at the same time when you feel Dean lean back to hand off the gun to someone you can’t see. He’s unnaturally fast, and before you can take a breath, he has you pinned against the wall, arms above your head. The flashlight falls, making the shadows dance, and as if on cue, the room's light illuminates, blinding you.

You squeeze your eyes shut against the assault and debate whether to keep them closed, afraid of what else is lurking in the room.

Dean demands, “Look at me,” and you know you’d be a fool to disobey.

Finally, when you find the courage to follow his command, you look up at him. Black drowns his pretty eyes, and his smile is fiendish.

“Please don’t say here’s Johnny,” you quip though you feel yourself start to tremble.

Dean laughs, but it doesn’t hold an ounce of amusement. “Johnny ain’t got nothing on me.”

You look over his shoulder, an army of demons line the walls looking at you with a fatal hunger. 

“Is this…” You can’t say it, recognizing that this is the place Crowley kept the alphas. The room where you saved Meg from Alistair’s clutches. You don’t know what you're asking for exactly; to be let go, to make it quick or something else, but the word falls from you in a shaky breath. “Please.” 

“Oh, don’t start begging yet,” Dean tuts, “you’ll spoil all the fun.”

“Fun?”

“See Sammy doesn’t believe that I’m no longer his big brother,” he explains, sounding irritated and bored.

“Dean, you don’t…” 

His hand wraps around your throat, lithe fingers reaching from ear to ear, and he cuts off your air to stop you from talking. “I’m tired of telling him to leave me alone, so I thought it’s time to really show him what I am. Maybe when I’m done here, he’ll let me go.”

Dean POV

I watch you thrash and squirm in your sleep. I know better than to wake you. Luckily, my reflexes saved me from any real damage but I have the scar to remind me of the knife you keep tucked under your pillow. 

“Dean, you don’t…” you whimper into the dream world.

Only, I know it's not a dream. It's a memory, playing out in full high definition. Unfortunately, I remember what happens next too.

I’ve tried running from the man - thing - I was, but I guess I’m too slow. It catches up to me in waves, winds me so much I clutch my chest, digging my fingers into my skin, hoping I’m somehow strong enough to break the flesh and rip my own heart out. Because that’s what it feels like while I watch you struggle. Every thrash or whimper is a blow to my chest, and I can’t catch my breath. 

I’ve waited at the bottom of a hundred bottles, drowning while I waited for you to come back. Waging a war against myself, punishing myself the only way I know how, abusing my body and falling into bed with any woman willing to sleep with the down and out drunk. 

I denied myself access to you. And you never called me. When finally I thought I had gotten away with it and felt a spark of relief that I wouldn’t ever have to face you again, like magic, you appeared.

That agony swallowed me whole, and I still feel like some big bad is chomping on my insides. It’s no less than I deserve, and heaven knows I’m never getting over you or what I did.  

I remember the pact you made, a vow etched in your blood as I slowly and painfully drew it from your body. “When all this is over,” your lip trembled, but the conviction was in your eyes. So much so, even the demon in me was intrigued with the absolute belief written on your bloodied features. “When Sam has fixed you…” you swallowed thickly, found a last ounce of strength and told me - him - “I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to, and I’ll wait for years if I have to, but I’ll see you again, and I’ll forgive you, Dean.” 

I thought when your blood dried, you’d take it back, but apparently you haven’t. Because here you are, back at the bunker, sleeping in your old room. Is this what your forgiveness looks like? Pretending like nothing happened, even though you still have the scars, physical and mental, to show that it did. 

Your jerking movements stop and I hope that the nightmare has passed when you roll to lay on your back. I wait a few minutes, watching your body relax, your eyes remain closed, and your frown smooth as your breathing evens out. 

“Dean.” 

It sounds intentional but you still look like you're asleep. You sigh heavily, hand coming up to rub your eyes open, and then you’re looking at me. A mixture of tiredness and weariness in your expression. 

“Did I wake you?”

I can’t help but huff a laugh. You woke me. Seriously? I’m literally the thing in your nightmares, but you’re worried about waking me. It’s infuriating and typical. 

“No, I haven’t been to bed yet.” I haven’t been sleeping much lately, but with you here, I knew it was useless to even try. 

You roll on to your back, stare up at the ceiling and ask, “Where’re you gonna run to?” 

You’re not completely wrong. I thought about jumping in Baby and hauling ass in any direction. I wish I had. I didn’t because I owe you at least an opportunity to tell me how much you hate me, remind me that I fucked us up, all because I couldn’t lose Sammy. Worst part is, I think you know I’d do it again.

Silence deafens me for a long time, and I can’t be sure if you’ve fallen asleep or not, until you deliver a blow I never expected. 

“I still love you.”

I really did do some permanent damage because that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you’ve never said it before today. It’s always been on the tip of your tongue. I could see it in the moments you wanted to say it, especially the moments it wouldn’t have changed anything because then you’d have been saying it for you, to make yourself feel better, knowing I was going to hell or purgatory or wherever I was headed knowing how you felt. But now you're saying it for me because it’s what I need to hear, despite that I doubt the truth of it.

You shuffle to sit up, stare at me through the darkness, repeating, “I still love you, Dean.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You lean over to switch on the lamp, a slight jesting smirk when you look back at me. “Well, one of us has to be wrong, and it’s not going to be me.”

You say it so unbelievably casual as if you're commenting on the weather, and I know you’re trying to lighten the mood, but I just don’t have it in me to make jokes.

“There’s a first time for everything,” I counter, “and this is that time. You don’t love me, you love the idea of me, and I wish I was the guy you think I am, but I’m not and I won’t ever be.” 

You sigh, and though you're too far away from me, I swear I feel it. As if a ghost just showed up, the temperature drops a few degrees, and a cold shiver runs through me when you mutter, “I know,” looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap.

Son of a bitch. Why does that sting like a rock salt shot to my chest? 

“But you're not the villain you think you are, either,” you say, softly, as if you're talking to yourself, and you may as well be because I’ll listen, but I won’t hear it.

“Villain, monster, all means the same.”

“You know what your problem is?” There’s no softness to your tone now. You're getting angry, and that makes more sense to me. You should be angry, furious, murderous even, but you won’t claim it like you should.

Regardless of your right to be furious with me, I bite back, “I have a few, but why don’t you tell me?”

“You don’t think you're worthy of love, that anyone who cares for you has been fooled into doing so, but what you don’t see is that you prove yourself worthy over and over again. The sacrifices you make, you put everyone - damn, the world - above yourself, and that makes you worthy.”

There’s that conviction again, the same undeniable faith you had when I had you tied down and bleeding out. You believe everything you just said, but it's the second time you’ve been wrong today.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “All the sacrifices I make are for selfish reasons, to save Sam, so I don’t have to live without my brother. That’s not commendable. And all the other times it was probably to fix a mistake I made trying to save Sam. I’m not worthy. I’m a screw up.”

You shrug, “Difference of opinion, I guess.” 

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I shake my head, looking up at the ceiling as if I’ll be able to see the sanity you’ve so clearly let go of floating around up there. As my eyes drift back down, they land on your duffle sitting on the chair. It’s packed up tight still, the clothes you were wearing when you arrived neatly folded on top, boots on the floor beneath it. 

You’re saying all this, claiming you love me but it looks as though you're ready to leave at the drop of a hat. “Not planning on staying?”

“Hadn’t decided yet, needed to know if I was too much of a reminder or if you could get past it all.” 

“Get past it?” I shout. “It’s not some minor accident, YN. I didn’t accidentally step on your foot. I ran a blade through your skin, repeatedly. I took pleasure in hearing you scream. I was proud of how your blood dripped onto the floor!” 

My rage makes you jump out of the bed. You, quite literally, won’t take this sitting down. You cross the room and get in my face. “I got past it, so why can’t you?” 

I laugh, there’s no humor in it, but it's either that or smash my fist into the door. “You're past it, huh? So I wasn’t just stalking your sleep, walking around with black eyes and a knife soaked in your blood?”

You avert your gaze and take a half step back. I’ve won, I see the fight drain out of you in the way your shoulders slump. I don’t feel good about it. 

“You came here to forgive me.” You meet my gaze and it’s right there, I can see it reflected back in your tearful expression.  “But I don’t need it,” I say, as the first tear slips free, “and I really don’t want it.”

“We can’t go back.” 

You’re not asking a question, you're speaking the realization aloud. But to be sure you understand, I add, “And there’s no going forward.”

Your gaze flicks to your unpacked bag. You inhale slowly and hold it for a long pause. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted,” you exhale, “So when I leave, I’m not coming back.”

That’s not true. You are wanted, more than you’ll ever know and more than I could ever express, but it doesn’t matter. Wanting you is not enough to keep what I did in the shadows.

It’s a dick thing to do, but the hurt I’m causing you now, the pain that is free flowing from your eyes, is nothing compared to what will happen if you stick around. “Finally,” I sigh, “something we agree on.” 

You hand flexes at your side, balls into a fist while you decide whether to strike me or not. I brace myself, expecting the blow. I deserve it. It’s what I need, a flare of anger, a singular moment to show me that I haven’t slaughtered the fight left in you.  

Your hand relaxes, and the resolve, with such a finality I’ll never forget, settles in your eyes. 

You’ve given up on me.

It’s for the best and there’s nothing left to say, so I turn and walk away.

It doesn’t take you long to get dressed, and I can’t bear to watch you leave, but I wait around the corner, out of sight, listening to your movements. 

When you leave your room, I follow your departure through the halls, trying not to inhale your scent too deeply, knowing the memories it will ignite will burn my resolve.

Your truck door slams, but the engine doesn’t start, and I hold my breath. Are you fighting with yourself to leave or stay? 

I don’t know which would make me feel worse. 

The engine starts, and I drift closer to the garage door. I push it open a crack, enough to see you resting your head on your hands that grip the wheel so tight, I can feel the sting on my own palms. Your shoulders heave with your tears that the old cranky engine drowns out. 

I do nothing but stare. The irony isn’t lost on me, I did the same thing that day in the warehouse; waiting, watching. The only difference is, as you drive away I’m the one left bleeding out and tortured.

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Master Lists: Dean Winchester // JAckles Verse Bingo // Main

[kaleldobrev]

Prologue — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Age Gap (15 years) & Self-Loathing Dean

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Thoughts are in italics | Switches between reader & Dean's POV but it's still written in the second person | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

Dean sat on the edge of his bed looking at his surroundings that he hadn’t seen in so long. Although it’s only been a few months, it felt like an eternity to him. Everything was still in the exact same place he had left it; and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved about that or not.

Being in his bedroom back in the Bunker came with a wide variety of emotions. He was happy to be back in a place that he had called home for the past several years, a place where he was finally able to have his own room again since he was four years old. But yet, there was another part of him that wanted to take his keys and drive off somewhere. He loved Sam, he loved Cas but, it was hard to face them again after everything he had done, and after everything he had put them through. Not only during the months he was gone, but during the short amount of time they were trying to cure him of a disease he strangely enjoyed.

“You weren’t you,” Sam had told him repeatedly as if he was a broken record. But Dean didn’t believe his words for a second. He enjoyed being a demon more than he liked to admit. Being able to kill whoever he wanted whenever he wanted without consequence fueled him. Being able to fuel the Mark was easy, being a demon was easy. Being a demon weirdly came natural to him.

Sitting at your desk, you endlessly scrolled through news story after news story, trying to find any excuse to leave your apartment, as it was a place that was currently not giving you the usual sense of peace it tended to provide you. Your apartment was usually your safe space, a place that you could relax and unwind in after a tough hunt. But ever since your boyfriend moved in, it had become a place that you no longer felt safe and calm in.

You and your boyfriend hadn't been together for that long — roughly a year — but during a majority of your relationship, it has been argument after argument, and the arguments were always about the same couple of things. He was either disrespecting you or upset that you didn't bring him along on one of your hunting trips.

He hadn't been a hunter for long — barely two years — and you met him within his first year. You had met him while on a werewolf case, as the two of you found the same lead and decided to work together since he really had no experience with werewolves. For some reason, the two of you clicked, and had been together ever since.

Whenever you and him tended to get into an argument, you wondered why you were still with him, knowing that you could do better. He didn't treat you right, and often undermined you in front of other hunters, sometimes taking credit for your own hunts. You tried to rationalize it, often saying that he was the best you were ever going to do because there was no way you could be with someone that wasn't a hunter, as you felt being with someone that wasn't one would put them in more harm, and you couldn't risk it. But the words of your mother started echoing in your head now, "It's better to be alone than to be with someone who disrespects you." You knew she was right; she was always right.

As you were about to give up, a news story finally jumped out at you, and it screamed poltergeist — your specialty.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, wanting more than anything to fall asleep; but the events of the last few months kept replaying in his head. "You weren't you," Sam's words repeated again and again.

No matter how many times Sam's words repeated, Dean still refused to believe it, as when he was a demon, he felt more like himself than he had been in such a long time; and that scared him.

The things that he did as a demon he would have done regardless; but the only reason he did the things that he did was because he knew there were no consequences, his conscience wasn't trying to stop him. Sam or Cas weren't there to stop him especially.

The Mark started itching again, getting hot with need. I need to kill something, he thought.

Getting off the phone with you, Sam sighed, looking at his slinged arm. There was no way he was going to be able to help you with this case, but it was far too late to call you back now; not after he already agreed to help you. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, as you were a big help to him while Dean was gone.

Sam was impressed by you to say the least, as despite your age, you were a damn good hunter with a decent amount of experience under your belt. He hadn't known you for very long — meeting you within the last couple of months — but you had quickly become someone he had grown to deeply trust; and he was incredibly thankful for that, and thankful for you.

Placing his phone back into his pocket, he grabbed his duffel bag and started packing some of the essentials. The case you asked him to join you on was one that was pretty straightforward, so he assumed it wouldn't take more than a couple of days. That's when his mind started to wander, wondering why you had asked for his help in the first place, as poltergeists were one of your specialties and it was the type of case that you could do in your sleep, but yet, you asked him for help.

Closing up your laptop, you grabbed it bringing it over to your bed, before going underneath it and grabbing your duffel. You started packing all of the essentials for a case that would only take you a couple of days. The case was an easy one, one that you could easily do in your sleep, but yet, you called Sam Winchester to help you. There was a small twinge of regret after you got off the phone with him, and you debated back and forth as you packed to call him back up again and tell him, 'Never mind, I got this Sammy.' But deep down, you wanted the company; you wanted to be with someone that treated you like an equal unlike your boyfriend.

"Going on a case?" Your boyfriend asked from behind you.

You turned to look at him for a moment, and he was leaning against the doorway, staring at you as you packed. "Yes," you said, plainly. Even if you weren't going on a case, you felt like you didn't need to explain anything to him.

"Where's the case? I can join you," he offered. But his offer wasn't a genuine one, as the only reason he offered to go with you was to try and make up the argument to you in some way. But you weren't in the mood for any of his gestures.

"Tulsa," you said. "I already called another hunter to help me."

"What hunter?" He asked, making his way to the bed so he could sit down on the edge like he usually did whenever you were attempting to pack for a case.

You looked at him again, annoyed that he kept interrupting your packing. He didn't need to know what hunter was going with you, and he didn't know where the case was going to be. But yet, you felt like you needed to tell him in order to get him off your back. "Sam Winchester," you said simply, and you saw his eyes grow wide.

"Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with Sam Winchester?" You asked, curious as to what he had to say about him, as you knew he had never met him. But there were times when you and him would be spending time with fellow hunters, and he would claim that he knew Sam; a bold statement that, whenever said, you tried to hold back a laugh.

“Nothing it’s just…the Winchester’s tend to get a lot of their partners killed,” he said. Your brows furrowed, not only because you were confused on where he heard that, but you’ve hunted with Sam a few times already, and your boyfriend never brought that up to you before.

“I’ve hunted with Sam a few times now, and I’m still alive,” you said, zippering up your duffel. “He’s a great hunting partner, very careful.”

“For now, you’re alive and for now he’s being careful. What happens when he bails on you to save himself?” Your boyfriend asked, his tone excitable now.

“I don’t know because I know for a fact that won’t happen,” your tone was serious and stern, defensive. Despite not knowing Sam for a long time, you trusted him more on hunts than your own boyfriend. “I trust Sam.”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 1

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