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roxyspearing · 5 years ago

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Do it like Dean

Sup lovely people? I got something for you :)

This is my entry for @idreamofplaid and her super cool in the bunker challenge. This is also a fill for both @spngenrebingoand @spndeanbingo

Summary: It’s just your boyfriend Jensen giving you a tour of the Supernatural set. What shenanigans could possibly happen?

Word count: 1,509

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Dean x Reader (you’ll see), brief Jared

Warnings: smutty smut smut y’all! Children, turn away now! Sex, oral (female receiving), mild bondage, mild sensory deprivation, mild swearing

Squares filled: free space (spngenrebingo) and sex (spndeanbingo)

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“And....cut!” Comes the call from in front of you, and everyone jumps up on to the set. Props are replaced, camera angles are double checked, make-up retouched. And amongst all the hustle and bustle, you quietly stand and wait for one man in particular to realise you're there. Just as he's headed to his mark, he tilts his head just slightly enough in your direction, and you smile just as widely as he does as he hurries over to you.

“Hey, handsome? Know where a girl can get a bite to eat around here? Plane food is horrendous.”

“Here.” Digging into his pocket, Jensen pulls out a set of keys. “Third trailer on the left. Make yourself at home.”

“Shall do. Am I able to give you a kiss, or will that wreck all your pretty make-up?”

“Jay!” Jared shouts, and the moments passed.

“Try to keep the gag reel shenanigans to a minimum.” You laugh, and with a wave to your second favourite Texan, you grab your bag and head towards the trailers.

You're just finishing up making two BLT's with extra bacon when you hear voices from outside. Grabbing the mayo, you put a healthy dollop on one, before grabbing a knife out of the trailer’s small but well-equipped kitchen and cutting both in half, as a pair of strong arms encircle your waist.

“Perfect timing.”

“Hmmm, I'll say. A beautiful woman in my sweatshirt, making me a sandwich. All I need now is a beer.”

“You’re one smooth talker, Ackles.”

“How were the vineyards of France?” Jensen asks you, grabbing both plates from the counter heading to the couch.

“They’re no brewery in Austin, that’s for sure.” You laugh, remembering the day you were assigned to cover the brewery’s opening for the paper you were freelancing for at the time. The place was gorgeous, as was the owner, who’d after giving you a dazzling interview for your article, so dazzling that the paper had offered you a permanent job, had asked for your phone number. You hadn’t hesitated for a second to give it to him.

“So, what assignments have you got lined up next?”

“Actually, nothing. For a month.”

“Seriously?!” Jensen mumbles through a bite of sandwich.

“Yep. I’ve called in a couple of favors so that I still get some holiday time at the end of the year, but the next four weeks are all mine.”

“That’s great timing. We’re on hiatus for two and a half weeks once we finish shooting this episode.”

“What’s this one about? Any juicy spoilers you can give me?” Having barely watched any of Jensen’s TV show when you got together, you had taken advantage of an unfortunate stomach bug to try it out. And that was all that had been needed for you to binge fourteen seasons worth of episodes in a seven week period. You always tried to get Jensen to spill the beans about episodes, but it never worked.

“Yes.. There is a scene, in which I, am....in.”

“Oh my God.” You squeal, throwing a cushion towards his face. “You freaking dork.”

“Yep. Your freaking dork.” Jensen laughs. “Though, I suppose I could give you a tour. Access all areas.”

“Ooo yes! Let’s go!”

“Now?” Jensen exclaims incredulously.

“Yes! Come on !”

Jensen had managed to get the keys to the sets, though you were sure he’d not really had to struggle doing so. You’d been nearly everywhere, Jensen telling you little stories or tricks of the trade for each new setting, and you’d even gotten to sit behind the wheel of Baby. Hand-in-hand, the two of you walked down a hallway before turning a corner to arrive in what you easily recognised as Dean’s bedroom.

“And this...this is where the magic happens.”

“Oh my God!” You laugh, sitting on the end of the bed. “Is that the kind of lines Dean Winchester uses now? No wonder he hasn’t gotten laid in a while.”

“Dean Winchester does just fine with the ladies.”

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Well, my apologies, Dean. How’s about you show me just how fine you do?”

Jensen smiled wide at you, but as he realised that you weren’t kidding...holy fuck. His eyes darkened as he took a step towards you, giving you a flirty eyebrow raise of his own.”

“Hiya sweetheart.”

”Hey Dean. Been a while.”

“Yeah. You get lost or something? Because this is my room.”

“Actually” you whisper, standing up and resting your hands on Dean’s chest, “I’m exactly where I need to be.” Your eyes meet his green ones, and that’s all is needed to set the spark between you both alight. One big hand comes to the back of your neck, his lips rough and demanding against yours. His other grasps your hip, pulling you closer into that muscular body of his, and you can already feel how hard he is through layers of denim and cotton.

“Strip. Now” Dean’s voice comes out deep and broken as the two of you break apart, and you find yourself shaking as you move to follow his instructions. You’ve got your t-shirt over your head, unable to see anything, when Dean’s lips latch onto the point on your neck that always makes you weak behind the knees.

“Do you trust me?” Dean murmurs against your skin, and you gasp out a yes. You gasp again as Dean’s hands move to your t-shirt, freeing your arms but keeping it rolled over your eyes, and then he’s guiding you to lay down on the bed. You let out a whimper as his hands slide up your ribcage, just glancing over the swell, and then one hand slips under you and you feel the give of the clasp. Dean shimmys your bra off and then you feel the bed shift as he stands up, and you’re just about to move the fabric covering your eyes when you feel the bed dip once more, a heavy weight above you as Dean straddles your chest, and then he’s taking your wrists and tying them to the headboard”

“Oh God” You moan, Dean’s chuckles meeting your ears.

“Give me time, it’ll be my name your moaning.”

“Shit.”

You feel Dean shuffle backwords, til he’s between your spread legs. his fingers brush down your stomach, then he’s undoing your jeans, pulling both them and your panties off in one fell swoop. You can feel his breath on your pussy as he gets comfortable on the bed, and you can’t help but jump as he swipes one thick finger over your damp folds.

“Hmmm....seems someone likes being at my mercy. You’re so wet Y/N, you’re dripping over my bed. Dirty girl. Guess I’m going to have to clean you up.” And then his mouth is on you, tongue zeroing in on your clit like some sort of heat seeking missile.

“Dean!!” You yell, arching your back, before one forearm pins your hips back on the bed. You try to close your legs, but his wide shoulders keep them spread open to his gaze and his touch. You groan as you feel a finger dip into your pussy, before it’s pulled back and replaced by two. Your pussy clenches, desperate to come around his fingers as he continues to lick and suck at your clit. You’re right on the edge, sweating and writhing, when Dean pulls away, and with one quick movement flips you over, lifting your hips up and then he’s sliding into you, one long, hard movement that doesn’t stop until he’s buried in your tight wet heat, and it’s the feeling of his thick cock that makes you come around him. As you gasp for air, and wondering when exactly Dean took his clothes off, the man in question slowly pulls back, until he’s almost about to fall out, before slowly sliding back in, back and forth so slowly that you can feel every ridge, every pulse of his dick inside you.

“Dean.....” You sob, trying to get some purchase on the sheet beneath you, a sharp cry leaving you as he thrusts into you hard. You’ve no choice but to hold on and take it, his cock moving hard and fast, hitting that spot every time, until....

“DEAN!!!!” You can’t help but yell as you come for the second time, so hard and for so long that your vision goes white. As you come back down, you realise your hands have been untied, the blindfold thrown to the floor, soft murmurs in your ear.

“Y/N? Hun, talk to me.” Jensen’s Texan drawl slowly drifts over you, as soft as his hands as they caress your wrists. “Y/N?”

“Jensen....”

“There she is. Here, have a sip of this.” The water is cool against your parched throat, and Jensen has to keep moving it away to stop you gulping it down. “You OK? I know we’ve never done some of that before, but-”

“Jensen. If that’s how Dean Winchester does with the ladies, then we are gonna have to do that a lot more.”

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Forevers and evers:

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @jayankles @grace-for-sale @atc74 @mrsbatesmotel53 @gryffindorofcabin21 @dolphinpink310 @goldenolaf25 @kdfrqqg @ellen-reincarnated1967 @fictionalabyss @heyitscam99 @just-another-busyfangirl @amanda-teaches @tn-grayson @girl-next-door-writes @feelmyroarrrr @blacktithe7 @masksandtruths @maui137 @holyfuckloueh @tina8009 @polina-93 @emoryhemsworth @whimsicalrobots @x-waywardaf-x @be-amaziing @horsegirly99 @bitterstar88 @hunterswearingplaid @deangirl7695 @thisismysecrethappyplace @calaofnoldor @randomparanoid @flamencodiva @beththedemonhunter @hawaiianohana31

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @cuffski @ruprecht0420 @kathaswings @deanscarlett @hobby27 @deanssweetheart23 @yourvoiceislikearose @wingedcatninja @pisces-cutie @mogaruke @lastactiontricia

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spngenrebingo #spndeanbingo #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #dean x reader #jensen x reader #smutty smut smut #supernatural fanfiction #roxy writes fanfiction #roxy writes supernatural #new writing

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blushingjared · 5 years ago

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Accidents Don’t Happen Accidentally

We Get What We Deserve Ch. 5: Accidents Don’t Happen Accidentally (Alpha! Sam x Omega! Reader x Alpha! Dean)

Square(s) Filled: Fuck or Die @spnabobingo , Double Penetration @spnkinkbingo and for @idreamofplaid ‘s “In the Bunker” Challenge with the Hidden Room Ship(s): Sam x Reader, Dean Reader (No Wincest) Characters: Omega! Fem! Reader, Alpha! Sam, Alpha! Dean Rating: Explicit Word Counts: 2.3K Warnings: Poly Relationship and Sex, Oral (Female Recieving), Anal Sex

We Get What We Deserve

Summary: When Dean and Sam are away, poor Y/N tries to find something to occupy her time. What could go wrong when a hidden room shows up?

A/N: OOOOO boi, smut is hard for Lia :( . So I hope you enjoy this regardless. I won’t be uploading for a hot minute cause Im working on a Bang Challenge. I will be doing the Hiatus Creations tho. Look out for that.

Beta’d by the lovely @sweetness47

You didn't waltz into the hidden room that had opened up without a plan. Being of sound mind, you made sure to send a text Dean and Sam, with all the information pertaining to where you were. Before jumping the gun and waltzing inside of the mysterious room, you needed to have a good, solid Plan B. The loud SLAM of the door closing behind you and locking you inside, echoed off the walls, and you prayed that the message you sent got through.

“Shit.” The curse slipped from your lips as you looked around the room for a brief moment. You ran a hand over the back of your neck. That wasn’t good.

As you looked at where the door should have been, you find no door handle. The room was designed to keep things in. It seemed as though you were stuck. Nice going, Y/N.

You reflected on the course of events that lead to you being locked inside of the room in the first place.

With the Winchester’s gone, you were left to you own devices in the bunker. Both Alpha’s had begun to sense the fact that their partner in hunting was about to go through her heat pretty soon. Neither brother wanted to be around you during that.

Try as you might, you couldn't convince the boys that it was you that should leave. The gentleman in them wouldn't hear of it.. They insisted you have the bunker during your heat, saying it was the safest place for you. Sure it was.

So, after being alone for the week, you were bored out of your mind with nothing to do until your heat finally came in. You tried cleaning, but gave up, getting distracted watching Netflix, then half way through that, you grew bored once more.

Doing too much of anything for long stretches of time had become irritating. So, you’d decided to go on walks through the bunker. It was at this point that you’d felt something begin to beckon to you, drawing you in.

A mixture of lemon and leather hit your nose all at once, bringing you to your knees momentarily. Slowly, you gained the ability to walk, and the further you walked, the closer you got to the scent. Then the hallway began to warm up, and the feeling brought goosebumps to your skin. The restlessness you’d been feeling the past three days was gone for the moment.

Finally, you came across a hidden room within the bunker. You’d been inside most of the rooms within your new home, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing this one. For the most part, the room was exactly the same as all the others, except this door blended in with the walls. In fact, you had almost missed it. You felt like Sam and Dean had no knowledge of the hidden room inside their bunker.

When you placed your palm against it, a feeling of ease washed of you once more. You craved to be on the other side of the door. Now, you were. You had gotten your wish.

Attempting to pull on the door did nothing as you had suspected. So, now that you were stuck inside the room, with nowhere else to go, you surrendered. You decided to give a look around the room.

It was cosy. Wood paneling made up the walls and soft carpet rested beneath your bare feet. A layer of dust covered the furniture items within the room. It was clear to you, that this room hadn’t been in use since the old Men of Letters days.

Most of the furniture was standard. A bed, dresser, mirror and an attaching bathroom made the room feel cosier than most of the bunkers bedrooms. It felt purposefully decorated that way. A small booklet sat on the side table and you began to move towards it.

Alphas and Omegas within the Men of Letters: A Guide to Mating. You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you flip through the booklet. The “guidelines” are as archaic as this rooms. Every rule seems to have no regard for the Omega in the mating rituals for those within the Men of Letters society.

The room’s sole purpose was described as followed. “To make sure all Alphas within the Men of Letters Society are satisfied. An omegas senses are to be dulled by the release of the scent most desirable to them. In addition to that, once the door is opened, it is to remained closed until knotting has occurred."

You’d been tricked into a sex dungeon. You felt disgusted at allowing yourself to be led to that damn room.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Sam and Dean to barrel into the room, only for the door to shut behind them as well.

“Was that the door?” Dean asked, lowering his gun to his side. Sam turned around and looked at where the door was supposed to be, as you had done an hour earlier.

“Shit.” The two brothers said in unison.

The room had turned sweltering, like the thermostat had been turned up to a hundred degrees. You’d already torn off most of the clothing you’d been wearing, Tossed into one of the corners lay everything but your panties and tank top. It only made matters worse now that Sam and Dean were in with you, especially after you explained that none of you would be leaving until the doors opened.

Sam had attempted to look for supplies, only to come up with a roll of old looking condoms and dried up lube. Which meant no food or water, and no safety either.

Dean had used up both his and Sams bullets in an attempt to open up the door. Nothing worked. Sam had surrendered most of his clothes to the heat within two hours. It took Dean another two to follow after his baby brother. You clear your throat, catching the attention of both brothers.

It dawned on the three of you that no one would be leaving any time soon.

Dean’s eyes lingered on you for a brief moment before his head turned away, ashamed of the lust he felt. Sam seemed to feel otherwise as he looked right at you, even smirking as you begin to crawl closer towards him. “I want you. Both of you. I don’t care. This room might kill us if we don’t fuck. I’ve wanted it for so long anyways.”

Sam lets his eyes flicker down to your mouth, and a glint of lust sparkles in his eyes before he presses his lips to yours. His hand moves up to grip your hair and yank you closer to his body, pulling you onto his lap.

A small moan of pleasure leaves your mouth as the two of you grind against each other. Alpha and Omega, fighting one another for pleasure. It’s only when Dean slides his hand along your back, do you cry out for them.

“Alphas.” You beg. “Touch me.”

Sam gripped your thigh, his thumb digging a bruise into your skin as he looked down at you. Dean’s palm had made its way to your throat, squeezing around it. “We’re gonna do more than just touch you sweetheart.”

The heat of the room caused all three of you to shed what remained of your clothes.. You felt both brother’s cocks grinding and rubbing against you, and you shiver as you imagine them inside you, fucking you senseless.

One of Dean’s calloused palms moves to cover your soft flesh. He kneads it gently as Sam moves his hands to your core. The youngest Winchester slides his fingers through your soaked folds, tracing a line down your legs.

Being moved now onto Dean’s lap, you feel his bare chest against your back. Sam's head begins to dip down, making a trail of kisses along your tummy and thighs. Each kiss was urging your thighs apart, giving him access to your pussy.

“Gonna have to get you nice and open baby girl.” His stubble covered jaw scraped along the smooth skin of your thighs, causing you to tremble in anticipation. Dean's hands continued to move over your breasts.

With a quick kiss to your clit, Sam sinks two digits deep inside you. You start to cry out, but strong hands turn your head, and Dean's mouth crushes against yours. Whispered promises and filthy words flow from Sam’s mouth as he sees you grinding, convulsing underneath his touch.

“That’s it princess. You look so pretty like this.” Dean pulled his lips from yours, leaving his palm against your throat. “Baby girl. We got you.” The eldest brother whispers. Never once did their hands leave your body, the need to touch you overwhelming them in every possible way.

Soon enough, you were coming in Sam’s hand, spiraling out of control as he continued to fuck his fingers inside of you. He disregarded the fact that you had already come, but you didn't care. You arched your back, begging for more.

“Please!” You sob softly. Dean tried his best to soothe you, but he made no move to stop his brother, and a silent understanding passed between them. With a few more strokes, Sam dragged you back over that cliff of pleasure. Tears streamed down your cheeks as he pulled his hand away.

Both men looked at you, thighs shaking, cum sliding down your bare thighs. Neither brother spoke as they took you in. You knew your heat was coming in early. The way your body was growing warm and your cunt was aching for a knot to be inside you.

Then the moment came, both brothers were gonna fuck you. This was almost too good to be true. Sam reached down and brushed his thumb lovingly over your cheek as he spread your thighs for him. Then Sam’s cock slid into your front, your voice unable to express the fact you wanted Dean inside you too.

The message, though unspoken, seemed to be clear enough, as he collects a bit of slick from where Sam was moving inside you. He begins to push a single finger into your ass, with too little lube, finding it hard to move around inside you. The burn and ache of it all added another level of pleasure to the situation.

Sam lifted your small body up high, only to slam you back down with each thrust. Soft mewls of pleasure flowed out of you with each movement, a gentle cry coming out as you ached for both men now. Dean mad slow movements and worked his way up to three fingers. Your slick was the only lube around, so stretching and pain was inevitable.

Sam held back, knowing that he needed to wait to make you cum. His forehead pressed back against yours as Dean gave his baby brother the signal he was ready to go in. Only then did the younger Winchester’s pace pick up speed. His grip on your hip tightened uncomfortably, but his other hand was free to mash his thumb against your clit. You chased after an orgasm that was surely going to break you.

Sam and Dean continue to press loving and gentle kisses along any place that they could reach. Dean’s hand slid along your back and both men easily thrust inside you. Now that both men where inside you, it was hard to think, you’d never be able to go back from this. Both of them continued to move inside of you, claiming your body like the Alphas they were. Each leaving temporary marks that would have to do until they could properly claim you.

Thrust after thrust, moan after moan, each second of overwhelming pleasure only brought tears to your eyes and your body grew limp. Then you felt Sam lift you up and bring you down himself. Dean's warm palms continued to roam over your chest, grabbing at whatever he could blindly reach at.

You finally came with a loud cry, sobbing as you felt Sam and Dean follow soon after you. Dean slipped out, but you barely noticed, because Sam was fully knotted inside of you. He looked up at his brother as Dean pushed the door open.

“Thank God” Sam whispered as he lifted you up. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” He smiled weakly as he awkwardly, but carefully carried you out. Although, you barely registered the words as you felt yourself drift off to sleep.

Dean’s eyes lingered on the cup of coffee sitting in front of him, the spoon lazily clanking against the edges of the drink. A gentle sigh burst passed his lips as last nights dream lingered on his mind, despite his best efforts to push it aside. He had no intention on thinking about a wet dream that included his brother; it was too close for comfort.

Not 5 minutes later, Sam made his way into the kitchen, a hand moving through the mess that was the kid’s hair. It surprised the eldest Winchester to see Sam still in his sleep clothes. Dean double checked his watch, and saw the time was, in fact, noon. He couldn’t remember the last time Sam had slept in so late when he wasn’t sick or exhausted from an apocalypse like situation.

“Mornin’ Sammy.” Dean smiled and greeted his brother. Sam’s response was a meager grunt as he waved his hand in Dean’s direction. The younger Winchester reached for a cup and the pot of coffee. He too was having flashbacks to the previous night's dream, and trying very hard not to linger on the fact that he enjoyed watching Y/N with the both of them.

With little left to say, both men sat in silence, drinking their coffee, and letting their thoughts drift to you, and you alone.

#spnkinkbingo #spnabobingo #plaidsbunkerchallenge #dean x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader smut #sam x reader smut #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x reader smut #Sam Winchester x reader smut #supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #lia's 2019 kink bingo series #We get what we deserve ch. 5

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dontshootmespence · 6 years ago

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Saving Grace

Summary: With Sam and Dean preoccupied and away on a case, Cas decides to distract you in a whole new way.

Pairing: Cas x Sister Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 1,396

Warnings:��Oral sex (female receiving), nipple play, teasing grace, sexy times.

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my “grace kink” square for @spnkinkbingo and my submission for @idreamofplaid‘s In the Bunker Challenge. I picked Castiel and “In the Library.” I hope you enjoy!

Comfort was being in the presence of your angel and stacks of books. No matter the trials you faced or the monsters you slew, it was here you found your saving grace. You slid a few books from the shelves and down onto the table, eyeing the three sets of initials carved into the sturdy wood.

With Michael still out there and your brothers unable to sit still, you did what you could, scanning the lore yet again for answers that could aid in your fight against the omniscient archangel. Sam and Dean took on case after case. Dean couldn’t sit still, his mind racing with all of the things Michael made him do. Of course it wasn’t his fault. He did what he did to save his family. But Dean wore his guilt like a knight yielded a shield and there was no getting through it until he laid it down before you.

Sam tried to get through to him. And he kept trying. But you knew he wouldn’t open up until he’d processed things himself and so you stayed behind with Cas, diving into book after book until your eyes glazed over from boredom.

Leaning back, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes against the scent of old books, allowing it to wash over you and calm your spiraling mind.

“Eni.”

Your eyes popped open at the sound of his voice, a smile spreading across your face at the nickname, short for Enigma. Years back, he’d called you by the name out of the blue – you were all things rolled into one – and since then the name stuck. “Found something?”

“No, you just look preoccupied.”

“I am,” you replied. “Can’t help it. I just can’t shut my mind off, you know?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, you slammed the book closed and returned to the shelves for another when you felt a familiar warmth spread over you – although used in a whole new way. Cas used his grace to heal you countless times, but now it snaked its way over your skin like silk, its cool heat forming goosebumps that rolled across your body. You met his gaze with a knowing smile before returning to the table with a book in hand.

It was only when you sat down that realized the book in question was about vampires and therefore of absolutely no use to you, but as his grace climbed slowly up your calves and crawled up your thighs you swallowed back a shaky breath. Fingers slipped across the pages and out of the corner of your eye you saw Cas smirk, his fingers twisting mindlessly across the wood in time with the dancing of his grace.

The chill gave way to a steady fire. He didn’t even need to touch you to make you crumble and you wanted him now – wanted him to make you forget all the bullshit. “Cas-“

“Relax,” he breathed, his eyes never leaving the page of his own book. “Trust me.”

You did. With every single fiber of your being, but those same fibers buzzed with resounding need. You wanted to feel him. His hands on your skin. His lips against the shell of your ear. His heated skin against yours as he filled you.

Squeezing your thighs together, you gave yourself over to the feelings he created. As his grace slipped its way toward your pussy a soft moan escaped your lips. You could feel him smiling and heard him stand up, following the soft thud of shoes. “Cas, please.”

His voice traveled from behind you into your ear, calming you momentarily. “Patience, Eni.”

With a quick snap, the warming swirl of his grace licked at your clit like a fire licked at tinder, spinning faster and faster, pressure more insistent until all you could hear was the sound of your heaving breaths and the pleas that caught in your throat, unable to be given voice.

“Fuck, I…”

Slowly, you reached your hand up to grasp your breast but the same invisible force that slipped between your folds forced it back down.

“Please, Cas. I need you.”

Bending down, he grazed his lips against the side of your cheek, his breath hitched and assurances sitting on the tip of his tongue. He finally cupped your breast, the first bit of touch, real physical touch, which made you want more. As his hand peeled back the thin cotton of your t-shirt, he swirled his grace in figure eights around your folds causing you to buck beneath the imperceptible force. “First, you’ll come this way. Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You smirked against the bubbling moan in your throat and slipped your hand over his, guiding him where you wanted him to go – though he didn’t need to be told. “Come for me, Eni,” he whispered, kissing your forehead while he gently twirled and pinched your nipple.

A groan escaped your lips before you even realized where it came from. “Oh fuck!” Your eyes shot open, meeting the cerulean depths of Cas’ gaze as you shook beneath his ministrations.

He stepped out from behind you and leaned against the table. “You look stunning when you come, you know that?”

“Only for you, Cas.”

Standing up, you clasped his face in your hands and pressed your lips against his, searching his mouth for the solace you sought and finding it as he spun you around and backed you against the table. You peeled your jeans and panties down your legs and kicked them away, spreading them wide so Cas could step between them. Palm down, he pressed you back into the table and licked a stripe up your pussy before positioning himself at your entrance. The teasing was almost unbearable. Your nerves were still on fire from the assault of his grace and the touch of his calloused hands.

“Fuck me, Cas. Please.”

When he pushed home, you cried out and wrapped your legs tight around his waist, using your heels to dig into his lower back and coax him closer. Your pussy contracted around him, pulling him closer and closer. But it wasn’t close enough.

Cas pulled you up nearly flush against him and slipped his tongue between your lips, his pelvis grinding into you and upward. The motion assaulted your clit, pressuring increasing at an alarming pace until you were panting in his arms and begging for release once more. “Please, Cas.”

“Eni-“

A groan cut off his cry for you, his own climax close enough to taste, the tang almost sweet on your own tongue. Reaching down, he swiped his fingers across your clit, rubbing back and forth as quickly as he possibly could all the while continuing his thrusts at a brutal place.

Every muscle in your body began to tremble as he buried his head in the crook of your neck and cried out, a last shot of grace wrapping around your body and extending the high. He moaned at the taste of your sweat-slick skin and trembled as he finally met your eyes. “Feel better?” He asked, his cheeky little smile telling you he knew the answer. Steady breaths finally took root again and you slumped against his shoulder with a sleepy smile.

A creak of the floorboards alerted you both to the presence of someone else in the bunker. With a snap of his fingers, you were clothed once again ready for whoever walked into your midst.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Dean and Sam walked back in and noticed the tightness in Cas’ pants and the blush on your face. “Oh really?” Dean exclaimed. “Come on! On the table?”

You both shrugged. You’d bet money they’d both have done the same thing if the opportunity presented itself. “What can I tell you,” you laughed.

Dean and Sam shivered in horror. “I’m going to go scrub my brain,” Sam said. “My little sister.”

“You knew I was sleeping with Cas.”

“Yea, but I didn’t want to see the afterglow.”

“Too bad,” you laughed. “You leave the bunker and I can’t vouch for what happens in here.”

Dean looked grossed out, which always made you laugh. He’s one to talk. “I’m never coming in here again,” he replied, walking past you and toward his room.

Smiling, Cas spoke. “We make no such promises.”

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spnkinkbingo #spnkinkbingo2019 #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #castiel fanfiction #cas x reader #cas x you #cas x y/n #cas fanfiction #dontshootmespence #saving grace

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 6 years ago

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The Cave Mistake

Jensen x Reader (platonic); Dean x Reader; Sam Winchester, Castiel, Anael

A/N: This is for @idreamofplaid‘s Bunker Challenge and for @spndeanbingo. This idea came from the above-mentioned angel, Robin, and I just sort of ran with it. As she originally put it, think a Reversed French Mistake. This is my first time at anything like this, so please, take it with a grain of salt (or you know, buckets of salt). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Reader goes to look for Dean when he stands her up for their date, only to find someone that looked familiar in his place.

Bunker Room: Dean’s Cave

SPN Dean Bingo Square filled: Supernatural

Warnings: Language, bit of angst, bit of floof

WC: 6K

“Dean?! Dean, I know you’re here you son of a bitch!” you screamed, angry and hurt that he stood you up. It wasn’t like him, and even though you had a bit of a disagreement the day before, you didn’t think it was enough for him to blow you off.

Three hours you waited for him at that damn bar. Earlier that day, he promised you a night off of hunting and a good time. Something you both needed, together. As far as you knew, there was no hunt, Dean always calls you to tell you when they were leaving for a job; always.

The bunker was quiet. No Dean. No Sam. Not that that was unusual, but it was creepy quiet. The entire place was ensconced in the red glow of the emergency lights, and there was the slightest hint of something witchy in the air.

Withdrawing your gun from the inside pocket of your leather jacket, you held it out in front of you as you carefully checked each room, only to find them all empty. As you made your way back around to the library, a sound from far down the hall caught your attention. It sounded like it was coming from…

“Dean’s cave. Dammit. I swear… If you are passed out drunk in there--” you muttered as you angrily stalked down the long corridor. “I will whoop your ass, Winchester…”

Once you were outside the door, it was quiet again; so much so that you almost turned and left, but then you heard it again. It sounded like a moan…

Closing your eyes and praying that you weren’t about to catch Dean shitfaced on the floor, you slowly opened the door to Dean’s man cave, and found it empty of the eldest Winchester. In fact, there was no one in there at all, at least that you could see.

Slowly you walked around the room, gun up, finger near the trigger. It wasn’t a big space; easily checked with a quick glance around—or so you thought. Just as you were about to lower your gun and leave, you heard the moan again. Over in the small space between the foosball table and the wall, you saw them… A pair of shoes were sticking out from the legs that disappeared into the shadows.

You set the sight of the gun on the body laying there, ready to shoot it if it charged. You got closer, and gingerly nudged the legs to see if they would move. The owner of the body groaned, deep and raspy, and started to move. That’s when you noticed that whoever it was, they were wearing weird looking shoes and khaki shorts.

Keeping your target on the calf of the intruder, you waited until they were almost sitting up. When their head breached the top of the foosball table, and you thought you saw a familiar face, you lowered your gun. You cocked your head to the side and stared in a curious fashion and he continued to stand up.

“Dean?” you asked, staring at the man who was the identical twin to your boyfriend, but somehow looked nothing like him. “What… Who? Who the Hell are you?!”

“What?” he rasped and brought his hand to the side of his head. The man grabbed onto the side of the foosball table and used it to support himself to stand up. At his full height, his back was still facing you and being unable to see his face in the ambient light of the room, you lifted your gun again.

“Who are you?”

He finally turned around, just as the lights came back on. The stranger wore Dean’s face alright, right down to the green eyes and freckles across his nose.

“What?” he asked again. “Where the fuck am I?”

You clicked the hammer back and put your finger closer to the trigger.

“I am not gonna ask you again, asshole. Who are you and why do you have my boyfriend’s face?”

“Your… my face?” he shook his head, but the confusion didn’t falter. “Just give me a minute… where…” he looked around and realization dawned on his face. “I’m on set. Why am I on set…” he paused again. “HOW am I on set. I’m not even IN Vancouver right now…” his voice trailed off over the last few words as he stepped out from behind the foosball table. That was when he finally noticed the gun that was currently keeping him in its crosshairs.

“Jesus lady! What the fuck!” he yelled and went to grab it from your hand.

In one swift movement, you stepped out of the way, got behind him, grabbed one of his arms twisted it up to his back and pressed the gun to the back of his head.

“Oww! What the Hell is your problem?!”

“My problem?! Buddy, YOU’RE the one with the problem. I will ask you ONE more time… then, I’ll put a bullet in you. WHO are you and HOW did you get into the bunker?”

“Jensen… my name is Jensen, okay? And I work here. This is the set to a show! My show! But I don’t… I don’t know how I got here. I was in Nashville playing golf. We were about to head to the hotel to change for a panel and then, everything went black.”

His voice was strong, not wavering in the least, but you could still tell he was scared. It could have been due to the gun you kept pressed to his neck, but you certainly weren’t going to take any chances.

“Panel?” you asked, confused by the whole situation. Why did this guy look just like Dean? Well… the clothes were definitely off, and this Jensen guy had a nearly full beard, otherwise, he was Dean’s doppelganger.

Slowly, you lowered the gun and began to ease the tension on the arm you had up around his back. He shook you free and stepped away exasperated.

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?!” He seemed panicked and bordering on manic. Before you could tell him to stop, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He was muttering to himself as he opened his contacts and scrolled til he found who he was looking for. But when he hit call, you could hear the tone beeping through his receiver and the operator come on to tell him it wasn’t a valid call.

“Come on,” he groaned and tried again. Then another contact, and another, until he reached the conclusion that there was no one to call. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily, brought the phone to his forehead and rested it there.

The whole thing would have been funny if it wasn’t sorta sad. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you look just like my boyfriend, Dean--”

“Winchester,” he said finishing your sentence. “Yeah, I know him… I AM him.”

“What? No, you’re not. Dean wouldn’t wear clothes like that, especially not khakis and a Polo shirt… and are those kleets? He certainly never grew a beard,” you challenged.

“Yeah, I know, they’d never let me,” he muttered. “And these?” he pointed to his feet. “Golf shoes… I was somewhere on the back nine last I remember. Besides the point, I play Dean Winchester, on a show, called Supernatural. My name… its Jensen Ross Ackles. I was born on March 1, 1978. Dean was born--”

“January 24th, I know. I have celebrated his birthday with him every year for the last few years.”

“Years? What? No… no! The longest Dean ever had someone was Lisa, and he was only with her a year.”

You watched in horror as this stranger with your boyfriend’s face recanted Dean’s history to you; every minute detail, every little scrap of his life… this guy knew all about it. Well, except for you. Apparently, you were the wild card.

“And when did Dean get another girlfriend?!” he finally finished, raising his hands in the air then slapping down against the outer part of his thigh. “Fuck me I need a drink.”

Jensen continued to pace, and as he whipped out his cell phone again.

“Are you willing it to give you a different outcome?” you asked, not without sarcasm.

“I--no. I just… here, I’ll show you.” He navigated to the internet and typed his name into the search bar. Nothing. No results. “That can’t be.” He tried again, and nothing.

“Look, whoever you are, you are not in Vancouver. You are in Lebanon, Kansas. This is Men of Letters bunker, currently inhabited by The Winchesters. This is--”

“No!” he exclaimed with a note of fear. “This is a television show set, in Vancouver, Canada, and you’re a PA who Misha probably set up to prank me,” he said, his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but as the thought left his lips, he seemed to relax.

“Misha? Who the fuck is Misha?”

Jensen sighed and looked at you with an air of annoyance. “You probably know him as Castiel.”

You nodded slowly, and finally decided it was safe enough to stow your gun back in its rightful place. “I do know Cas, but… he’s not been to Earth in a few years now. He returned to Heaven after…”

“After, what?” Jensen asked in mocking fashion.

“You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to explain myself. YOU are the stranger here. Not me.”

“Yeah, okay lady. Tell Misha I said he got a great actress, okay? He wins. Prank war, over.”

“Ok, I’ve had enough. Come on, pretty boy, let’s go,” you said and motioned towards the door.

“Go where?”

“Out into the bunker. Show me where the ‘set’ is supposed to be, hm? Or the cameras… where are they?”

“Fine. I will,” he replied, an arrogant smirk on his face.

His resemblance to Dean was scary, they were identical in their mannerisms and tone of voice. But this guy was different, it only took a few minutes to see that. He was lighter and much less… haunted.

Jensen went to leave the room, put his hand on the door and paused. You couldn’t see his face, but the way his shoulders slumped you assumed he came to some kind of reckoning. He picked his head up and turned to face you.

“Problem?” you asked, hands firmly planted on your hips.

“Slight one. I just realized that if this were the set, that wouldn’t be there,” he said and motioned towards the wall behind the mini bar. But yet…”

“There’s a wall.”

“Precisely.”

“So, quite a conundrum we find ourselves in here… what was it again?”

“Jensen,” he grumbled, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.

“Now what? Think maybe the truth might finally work for ya?”

“Lady, I am telling you--”

“Call me lady again, and I certainly will not respond like one,” you warned, reaching for the gun in your jacket pocket.

Jensen put his hands up in relent and walked around the room towards the mini-bar. When he went behind it and found the small fridge full of cold beer, he pulled one out and popped the top. Chugging half the beer, he turned and looked at the wall curiously. You watched as he pounded on it at the seems, and tried to both push and pull on it.

“What the HELL are you doing?” you asked, unable to stay quiet.

“It’s a fake wall, right? I mean, this isn’t real. None of this is real.”

“I’ll tell you what, let’s go take that walk after all, hm? Maybe if you see that the bunker is solid and that there’s no camera crew, you can stop acting like a lunatic and help me figure out what the fuck is going on.”

Jensen considered it for a moment and agreed. “I honestly don’t have anything else so, why not.”

“Well, as you keep saying, you have played this part for years. So, get in his head and think. What happened?”

He paused a moment and you could tell he was trying, but he was coming up blank.

“Fine. let’s just take a look through the bunker. Maybe if you walk around, you’ll get an idea of how you got here.”

You lead him through the various rooms, and in each one he looked around as if he was lost in some kind of fog, mumbling to himself as he went. He went down each corridor, through the kitchen, all the bedrooms, war room, library, even the firing range, and storage. Eventually, you lead him up through the main door and up to the garage.

It was in the garage, that your concern over Dean’s whereabouts grew. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his car, and the Impala was currently parked in its usual spot.

Jensen heard you inhale sharply, and looked you over. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you replied curtly.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah, well, you may have his face but you don’t look like Dean. So, where the fuck is he and why are you here?

That's where the wheels started to come off for Dean’s look-a-like. He started to laugh, almost manically and then rub his hands over his face. A thought had occurred to you, a sick one, but one you had to follow regardless.

“I’m just gonna put this out there if this is some elaborate prank--”

“But!! That’s just what I said!!” Jensen exclaimed, his face twisted into a mix of exasperation and panic.

“You said Misha was pranking you. I am saying if you ARE Dean, and this is a way to fuck with me....”

Jensen exhaled and shook his head for a beat before it snapped up and held your gaze.

“Dean has one tattoo, right? The anti-possession tattoo on his chest…”

You shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

Jensen pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a bare spot where the ink should have been. “See, nothing. Also…” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal an elaborate tattoo of a bird. “He doesn’t have this.”

You stepped closer to inspect it, and when you reached out to touch his skin, he flinched. “I just want to be sure it’s real.”

“Oh, it’s real. I got it for my daughter. I am telling you, my name is Jensen. I am not from here… this is… this…” he started laughing again and just turned to wander down the path back to the bunker, but kept turning around to see if you were following him.

By the time you were back in the safety of the bunker, Jensen went right to the cave and to the beer he left sitting on the mini bar top.

“You were saying?” you said, falling into one of the recliners.

“I just… Wait. We did this…” Jensen mumbled and paced the room, eventually coming to sit in the recliner beside yours. “This was an episode, this was… fuck… season five. No, six. Shit!” He growled in frustration and continued mumbling to himself. “Do something as long as this and it all blurs together.”

“What?”

He looked at you and shook his head. “Nothing. It's just that, on our show, we had an episode like this. It was angels. Angels threw Dean and Sam into another reality. Where they were us. It was so dumb, but also pretty meta,” he snorted a laugh but when you didn’t return his humor, his face fell. “Whatever. My point is, is if this is REALLY happening, its gotta be angels.”

“Angels. Angels are gone, man. I guess your show didn’t cover that?”

“Well, sort of. They’re almost all gone,” he replied.

“I’m calling Sam. He’s gotta be able to help. Or at least know where Dean is.”

“Yes! Call Jar--Sam. Good call,” he smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows along his legs and nervously rubbed his hands together.

You pulled the cell from your pocket and found Sam on speed dial. His phone didn’t ring, just beeped like the old house phones used to when they were busy.

“Damn. I’ll try Dean, again.”

Same problem.

“Shit.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“Clearly,” you replied and held up the darkened screen of the phone. “I wonder…” you went back to your contacts and dialed Rowena.

No answer.

“Fuck!”

Frustrated, you got up from the recliner and went back to the mini bar grabbing two bottles. As you walked back to the chair, you handed one to Jensen even though he didn’t ask.

“I’m not Dean, remember. I certainly can’t drink like he does.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up buttercup. Down the hatch. You’re gonna need it.”

Jensen laughed. “I gotta ask you… shit… I don’t even know your name.”

You eyed him suspiciously. There had been some weird shit that went down around Sam and Dean over the years, but this was a new kind of cuckoo.

“Y/N,” you said and went back to trying to figure out what to do next.

“It's very odd to meet you, Y/N. Mind I ask you something?”

“Why not.”

“How did you meet Dean?”

“Oh, I’m not on your show?” you couldn’t help reply with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Jensen simply shook his head in response. “Too bad.”

“So? How did you and Dean end up together?”

“What do you care?”

“Because I AM him. I am. I have played that character for damn near fifteen years, and now that it's all coming to an end…” he trailed off, his expression growing distant and sad.

“Jensen?”

“Uh? Sorry. I drifted. I’m just curious. Regardless of whatever the hell this all is, Dean is clearly living a life that I’m not apart of and I want to know how he met a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” you didn’t know if you should be offended or not.

“Spunky. Fierce. Not gonna lie… a little scary.”

You shrugged demurely and smiled. “Aw, ain’t you a charmer.”

“Let’s not forget sarcastic.”

“It’s the language of my people.”

“Yes, Dean’s too. So, tell me. How?”

“We met on a job. I was the job. He was the hunter. Simple as that.”

“What kind of job?”

“Jesus, Jensen. Does it matter?”

“It does to me, okay?”

“It was a haunting, and they showed up out of nowhere. I had no idea what it was but I was scared, and it was coming after me every night. They guys showed up, claiming to be paranormal researchers, and asked if they could check the place out. I said yes because I wanted whatever it was to get out.”

“Did they do it?”

You nodded quietly. You didn’t want to talk about the case. It was personal and hard to discuss with anyone that wasn’t Dean; even a man who wore the same face.

“Dean stuck around afterward. Made sure I was ok. Then, I don’t know one thing led to another, and now here we are a few years later and…” you shrugged.

“You’re still together.”

“Yup.”

Jensen’s expression changed and despite the craziness of the situation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked almost peaceful.

“Holy shit!” he said and jumped up out of the chair. “I remember!” He placed the beer down on the floor next to the recliner and went over to where he woke up by the foosball table. There, on the wall was what he had thought of. “Look, see!”

You got up and walked around to see what he was pointing at. On the bottom of the wall was a small sigil, painted in a dark red substance you were pretty sure was blood.

Jensen touched it, then wrinkled his nose and quickly wiped his hand on his far-too-clean khakis. “Oh God, I hope that's just painted on… in paint.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him out of the way to get a better look. It had been a long time since you had seen anything Enochian, but it was a symbol you knew well. “Fucking angels,” you groaned as you studied it closely. “Dammit.”

“See, I told you!” Jensen smiled, proud of himself, but still trying to get the red mark off his fingers.

“Good for you, you get a gold star,” you replied half-assed, ignoring the glaring look Jensen gave you.

Wracking your brain you moved away from the sigil and began to pace the cave, running your fingers along the bars of the foosball table. Chewing your bottom lip, you tried to figure out what to do next. Angels had left Earth years before, right after Chuck had come back and saved humanity from a very ugly ending. Calling on them now may prove difficult, but it was the only choice you had.

Sitting in the recliner again, you closed your eyes and let your fingers intertwine with each other, clasping them together tightly. “Dear Castiel, I know its been a long time, but, if there is any way you can hear me if you can hear any part of this prayer… I need your help. Dean and Sam, they’re gone. I need--”

“I know,” you heard from the doorway right after a rush of wind lifted your hair from your face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know where they are and I am working on getting them back.”

“Castiel,” you breathed as you slowly stood up. “You’re here.”

“I am. I’m sorry I’ve been, MIA, as Dean would say. Heaven is once again falling into chaos--” he stopped as he noticed Jensen standing near the table. “Who…” Castiel paused and in a flash was standing behind Jensen, making him jump. Cas inconspicuously sniffed the air around Jensen’s head, frowning before flying back to where he had been. “Despite looking very much like him, this is not Dean.”

“No, Cas. It’s not. That’s what I am saying. Dean was gone and in his place…” you motioned towards Jensen, “This.”

“Hey,” Jensen whined.

“So, you said you know. What do you know? Where are they? What happened?”

“It's another angel, she’s…” Castiel trailed off and gestured vaguely. “She’s causing trouble. She wants me to help her, claims she has a vision of how God wanted humanity to be. Claims he left her with it the last time he walked the Earth.”

“After Jack?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

“Oh, yeah, the Jack story. Huh,” Jensen smiled. “That was a crazy one man, I liked how--” he stopped talking when he realized both you and Castiel were staring at him strangely. “Just saying it was a cool way to wrap... up… that... I’m just gonna finish my beer now.”

“Good idea,” you said to him and turned back to Castiel. “Alright, so which angel?”

“Anael.”

“Oh! I remember her!” Jensen butted in again. “On the show, my wife played Anael. Pretty cool, right?”

“What is he talking about? What show?” Cas muttered, leaning in close so maybe Jensen wouldn’t hear.

“Long story for another day. Can you get to her? Find out why she did this?”

“She wants me to help invoke her vision of the new heaven. I told her no. She claims I owe her one and told me she would torture my ‘favorite humans’ if I refused her,” Cas sighed and dropped his arms to his side after using dramatic air quotes.

“Meaning Dean and Sam.”

“Yes.”

“Well, she followed through. So, go find the angel bitch now, get my boys back, Cas.”

“I’ll do my best, Y/N.” With that, he was gone.

“Wow,” Jensen whispered loudly. “To see it really happen. Amazing.”

“Yeah, its Aces.”

You went back to where you left your beer and finished the bottle in one long pull. Making your way back to the mini bar, you grabbed another.

“So,” Jensen said, trying to hard to be casual, and strolled over to where you were standing. “Can I ask you something else?”

“What?”

“It's personal.”

You looked at him, exasperated and tired. “What, Jensen?”

“Do you, uh… I mean, are you in love with Dean?”

The question made you snort a laugh and sigh. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because it's personal.”

“Yeah, but see, in my world, Dean is mine. He’s me, in some form. And in my world, the show is ending. I have to say goodbye to him soon. This whole thing, which I'm still not convinced isn’t some kind of bad fever dream, or I don’t know… feels more like a bad acid trip, but either way, it's happening. It happened right before we finished up the show. For good.”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly worried what may happen after that. “If you end the show… what happens here? Do we keep going?”

“God I hope so,” he sighed. For the first time since the entire debacle started, you felt an odd connection with him. Maybe it was that the expression he wore, it looked the most like Dean's, even with the beard and country club look. “When we film that last episode, just knowing that Dean Winchester is still out there, somewhere, living his best life with his brother, his car and his best girl at his side…” Jensen trailed off and shrugged. “That would make it just a little bit easier to close that chapter of my life and move on.”

His words hung in the air and seemed to suck the breath from your lips. The weight of all that was going on finally hit you hard enough to have to hold onto the bar for support. Jensen wanted to know if you loved Dean. It wasn’t something you and he had ever said, but you always felt it from him.

“It's okay,” he continued. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Yes,” you replied suddenly and before you could stop yourself. “I do love him. I think I have from the minute I met him.”

Jensen’s face softened, and he tried to hide his grin, but you saw it anyway.

“And you guys… you’re happy?” he asked.

“I mean, yeah? He drives me crazy constantly, drinks too much, drives too fast, is reckless on hunts, always uses all the hot water and is very bossy. But, yeah. I’m happy. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Before Jensen could speak, the sound of fluttering wings filled your ears. You turned around quickly, ready to pounce in case it wasn’t Castiel. That’s when you saw her, her upper arm held firmly in Castiel’s grip.

“Anael, I presume,” you said, trying to keep yourself calm.

She didn’t reply but just stared daggers into you.

“Yes, Y/N. This is Anael,” Castiel answered for her.

You casually turned back to Jensen and saw the look on his face. He was both scared and captivated, unable to take his eyes off the angel in front of him.

“That’s your wife?” you whispered.

“Well, that’s what she looks like,” he said and swallowed thickly. “But that ain’t her.”

His eyes grew wide as Anael tried to bring herself up at full power, but Cast was able to reel her back in before she could blind both you and Jensen.

“Enough, Anael!”

“Fine,” she sighed. “What do you want?”

“I want my boys back!” you yelled, but she wasn't scared, she just laughed.

“Ok. As soon as Castiel agrees to help me. It's pretty simple.” She was cocky, just like you remembered the angels being. It made you want to find the closest angel blade and use it to wipe the smirk off of her face.

“Fine. He’ll help you. Now go get them and put this one back where he belongs,” you motioned towards Jensen who stepped behind the safety of the mini bar and continued to watch it all play out.

“Y/N,” Castiel commanded. “I will not help her. What she wants to do--”

“I don’t CARE!” your voice roared through the cave, bouncing off the concrete walls and piercing through the angel’s ears. Turning your sight onto Anael, you walked closer to her, and without asking or warning, you slipped your hand into Castiel’s coat and retrieved the angel blade that you knew lived there. Before he could grab it back, you had it at her throat, pressing it taut against her host’s skin.

“Go ahead, then see how easy it is for you to get your precious boys home. Then you’ll just be stuck with that one over there. The one who only pretends to be Dean Winchester.”

“You know what, red? Here’s what you’re gonna do. Knock off the bullshit, go retrieve Sam and Dean wherever the hell you stashed them. Then, return Jensen back to his rightful place. Only then, will you get what you want.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” she said, still very calm and collected. “Simple trade. I get Castiel’s word he backs me in Heaven, and you get the Winchesters back. He ”

“And, me?” Jensen asked, raising his hand halfway up. “What happens to me.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Anael said and winked at him. “I’ll be sure you get home safely. Just as soon as Castiel gives me what I want.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Anael,” Castiel replied stoically.

“Don't you? Remember when that little Nephilim problem was out of control? I helped you find a way to talk to God. And God returned, didn’t he? He came in time to stop that Nephilim from destroying the world. Sure, it got us put in a Heavenly time out for the last couple of years. But, I helped you. Now, it's your turn.”

“If I remember, I gave you jewelry--”

“Listen here, you bitch…” you growled, pushing the blade down on her harder ignoring their pointless banter. “I don’t give a shit about what Castiel owes you. You will go and retrieve Sam and Dean or I will make sure you suffer.”

“Do you really think calling me names is the way to get what you want?” she laughed despite the gash of light that was starting to form on her throat.

“Look me in the eye and see if I give a shit. Now. Bring them back, or I slit your throat. Then, I’ll make it my mission to hunt down every angel in heaven, even if that means booking myself a one-way ticket up there just to torture all of you feathered dickheads. Or, you could just return them, send Jensen home and I will see what I can do about getting Castiel to assist your mission.”

You immediately gave Castiel a warning look to just stay quiet. The tension in the room was thick with animosity, as you and Anael held each other’s gaze; one waiting for the other to break. It took more than a minute, but Anael must have weight her options, and you saw her expression falter.

“Fine. Release me, Castiel. You can take the blade away, honey. I’ll go retrieve your boys. This was fun for a while but honestly, it's just sort of pathetic now.”

You reluctantly took the blade from her throat and stepped back. You gave Castiel a slight nod and he let go of Anael’s arm. She smoothed out her clothes and primped her hair before looking from face to face.

“Give me a moment, I’ll be back with the boys. You,” she said and pointed at Jensen, “Let’s go.”

Before you could say another word, Anael and Jensen were both gone. A second went by, the bunker lights flickered off and on rapidly, finally sending the emergency lights back on. The red glow in the cave gave it an ominous atmosphere causing a moment of panic to settle in. It lasted only a minute, and the lights corrected themselves just as there were two loud thumps that came from the hallway.

You and Castiel just looked at each other, then turned your heads in unison towards the door to the cave. You could hear movement coming from the other side. Unsure of what it could be, you handed Castiel back his blade and withdrew your gun from your jacket one more time. The handle started to turn, both you and the angel ready to fight if need be.

As soon as it pushed open all the way, light from the hallway trickled in and you could see Dean and Sam’s silhouettes against it. Overcome with relief, you laid your weapon down on the foosball table and jumped into Dean's arms.

“Holy Hell… baby, it's good to see you,” he breathed, burying his face into your neck. His arms were hooked around your waist and he had no plans of letting go.

“Sam, Dean… are you alright?” Castiel asked, and began to look Sam over.

“We’re fine, Cas. It's good to see you,” Sam huffed, and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, giving him a familiar squeeze. “Been a while, huh?”

“I’m sorry it was under these circumstances. Anael--”

“There’s time for that later, Cas,” you said and looked back up at Dean. “Where were you?”

“I don’t even know… it was… weird. I mean, even for us, weird.”

“Weird how?”

Sam rubbed his arm and looked like he’d just been through it. “It was awful. We were in this place… another damn TV Show. We thought it was the trickster at first.”

“Was it Supernatural?” you asked, and they both looked at you curiously.

“No, not this time… How did you…?”

“Another long story,” you said with a sigh of relief.

“It was this place called Stars Hollow. Apparently, I was Dean,” Sam snorted, “and this one… they kept calling him Jess…”

“We had to smile at people constantly. One day there I feel I’ve been bad touched all over,” Dean groaned. “Seriously, I need a shower.” He looked up at Castiel really seeing him for the first time. “Cas… it's good to see you.”

Dean embraced his old friend quickly, then immediately returned to you and pulled you into him again, holding you tight like you were his anchor holding him bound to where he belonged.

“Good to see all of you. I guess, all things considered, maybe I should start coming around more often. With Anael in the wind…” he shrugged.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Dean said quietly. “You’re family, Cas,” Dean said and squeezed you tighter against him. “You’re our family. Right guys?”

You and Sam both agreed and the angel blushed. “Thank you. After everything ended… I just needed time.”

“Understandable. But now, you’re back. So stick around a while, alright? I owe my girl here a night out, and then we can get into all those long stories you two seem to have.”

“That can wait, Dean.”

He gazed down at you, his eyes soften and his smile warm. “It can’t. I didn’t know if I’d see you again, and that killed me. Right now answers sound great, but being alone with you sounds better.”

You knew when to argue and when not too. Now was not the time. “Ok.”

Dean kissed the top of your head and turned to his brother. “Sammy, you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah man, you and Y/N go out, unwind. We’ll all compare notes tomorrow. That shower sounds like a good idea.”

Giving both Sam and Cas a hug, you and Dean walked out of the cave and down the corridor of the bunker. You couldn’t help but stare at him, and then remember Jensen. They really were physically identical, and yet it amazed you at how different they were.

Dean felt your eyes on him and scowled. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said then proceeded to slowly look him up and down. “Have you ever thought about playing golf? I’d be you look really freaking cute in those shorts.”

“What? No! You hit your head or something?”

“No, concussion-free. Just got to thinking…”

“Well stop it. Unless you’re thinking about how you can make that up to me later. Golf… she says.” Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling you close and ushering you down the hall and out of the bunker for your long-awaited night out.

Tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby // @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @wayward-gypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spndeanbingo #spn fan fiction #jensen x reader #dean x reader #dean's cave #spn fanfics

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idreamofplaid · 6 years ago

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In the Bunker Challenge

I absolutely adore the bunker! I want to live there ❤️

It’s the inspiration for this writing challenge to celebrate my new URL and just how wonderful it’s been to start this new blog after the purge.

Guidelines

-submissions due June 18th

-500 word minimum. Please use the keep reading feature.

-send me an Ask with room choice and character you will be writing

-you can write any ship or pairing you want including RPF (reverse French Mistake anyone?)

-smut, fluff, angst, or any combination of these

-Tag #plaidsbunkerchallenge

-Following me would be nice

Rooms are Below

Two people per room. Your room choice should feature prominently in your fic. Some are rooms we’ve seen. Some are rooms we haven’t seen but we know they’re there. Some are rooms that it would be awesome if they were there. Feel free to redecorate or create your own room that isn’t on this list.

-War Room

-Library @gabby227 Dean @dontshootmespence Dean or Cas or Sam

-Archives @peridottea91 Sam @idabbleincrazy Sam and Gabriel/w OFC

-Firing Range @crashdevlin Dean @endless-wingspan Destiel

-Dungeon @wingedcatninja Dean @sammit-janet Sam

-Dean’s Bedroom @evansrogerskitten Dean @roxyspearing Jensen

-Sam’s Bedroom @mariekoukie6661 Sam

-Kitchen @myinconnelly1 Sam and Dean @aihoshiduo Sam and Dean

-Dean Cave @coffee-obsessed-writer Jensen @dean-winchesters-bacon Sam and Dean

-Infirmary @thedreamsmith Sam @supernatural-took-me-over Sam

-Garage @alleiradayne Dean

-Gym @fandomsrourlives Sam @thoughtslikeaminefield Sam and Dean

-Music Room @a-mess-of-many-fandoms Sam @princessofthefandomrealm Sam

-Bathroom @maddiepants Dean @sweetness47 Sam

-Closet @takikojou Sam @waywardbaby Dean

-Playroom @ladywinchester1967 Dean @heycasbutt Sam

-Nursery @tumbler-tidbits Dean @anotherwaywardsister Dean

-Secret Passage/Hidden Room @blushingjared Sam and Dean @girl-next-door-writes Sam or Crowley

-Studio @abbessolute Dean

-Dining Room

-Original Room @wendibird Sam

-Any other wonderful room you can create!

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #writing challenge

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mariekoukie6661 · 5 years ago

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A Better World

This is written for @idreamofplaid In The Bunker Challenge I chose Sam’s room, as my “prompt”.

Beta by @thinkwritexpress-official and @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams.

Warning: Angst, Blood, mention of hypnosis through dream. MCD( major character death)

Character: Sam W x Reader, Michael

Summary: They both dream of a better world...

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

Sam’s room was always the perfect temperature when you needed to escape the real world. Sometimes when hunting was too much and you couldn’t bear all the responsibility that went with it, you stayed in bed, reading a book or simply staring at the ceiling, sleeping the day away when you knew the boys didn’t need you.

To be quite honest, you knew you weren’t a hunter. No matter how many times Sam tried to train you or explain how to fight, you never learned anything except how to fall on your ass.

You spent most of your time in Sam’s room since your relationship started, and even before then. There were too many people in the bunker and you weren’t at ease with strangers. Ever since Michael had disappeared in Dean’s body, Sam… he wasn’t eating properly, wasn’t showering except for when his mom forced him to do so, and he wasn’t sleeping in his room - the room the two of you shared.

Sam was avoiding you. He was barely talking to you, and whenever you were alone in a room together, he found an excuse to leave the room. You could understand that he was worried about Dean and finding Michael; you could understand that he was under a lot of stress with all the new hunters, but those things weren’t an excuse to just shut you out. Sam didn’t seem to realise that he was your whole world. You were good with research but the actual, physical work of hunting was a different thing entirely, and it wasn’t for lack of trying.

The bedroom was a mess when you went to bed, but at that point you were just tired of everything. You just wanted to sleep and dream of a better life; instead, your dreams were filled with nightmares, everyone you knew and loved dying over and over again.

Suddenly it all stopped, or it paused, and Dean appeared. Well, who you thought was Dean, until you saw his glowing blue eyes. Michael talked to you about how he heard you pray about a better world and a better relationship with Sam. After trying to convince you to hurt Sam for a while, he simply left you alone to your dreams.You weren’t suspicious of anything; Michael was a bit unpredictable, so you didn’t know what to make of that conversation, but come morning it wouldn’t matter because you couldn’t remember anything.

---------

Sam was asleep on the library table once more. He was dreaming of a life with you, a life where he would no longer have to pretend to not love you when the only thing he wanted to do was protect you and get you far away from the life of a hunter. You deserved so much more than what he was able to give you, and for some reason you loved him as much as he was loving you. He was dreaming of peace, of a world with no monsters, of a better world. He didn’t see Michael hiding in the corner of his dream, he didn’t see anything until it was too late - the last thing he remembered was glowing blue eyes. He didn’t remember going to the armory, didn’t remember taking a knife and going into his bedroom where she was sleeping.

Sam certainly didn’t remember plunging the knife in your chest or the gasp that followed. He didn’t remember how he had stabbed his girlfriend over ten times without blinking. The first thing he remembered was the feeling of something hot and wet on his hands, the feeling of something liquid, and the smell that accompanied it. He looked down at his hands and saw the knife he was holding, the blood that was coating both his hands and the knife. Quickly dropping the weapon, he looked slightly up to see your lifeless, bloody body on the bed.

He just couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no way that it could be real. He was dreaming, there was no other option. He couldn’t believe that he let his guard down for a moment and that you paid the price for it. He couldn’t believe that he was foolish enough to love someone in this life… he should have known better…

Now… now you were dead, and it was his fault. He didn’t even feel the tears on his cheeks, didn’t realise that he was crying until he had your lifeless body in his arms.

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

Tag: @anonymousredfangirl, @voyonscriss, @katstablook, @caplanreads

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #Sam Winchester #Michael!Dean #Angst #Death #My Stories #supernatural fanfiction

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sweetness47 · 5 years ago

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What Showers are for...

this is for @samwinchesterbingo for the Plot? what plot? square, and for @idreamofplaid for her #plaidsbunkerchallenge (bathroom), and for @spnkinkbingo for the Shower Sex square

Pairing Sam x reader

final word count: 998

rating: EXPLICIT!!!! LOTS OF SMUT AND SUCH!!! IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ THEN DO NOT READ THIS!!!

Summary: What truly happens when Sam’s curiosity and his insane attraction to you finally cross?

I was getting ready for bed. Didn’t think much of it, we’d just got home from a hunt, and I was covered in mud and all sorts of nasty additions. I felt like I had just crawled through a sewer. The shower was my first destination after walking through that door, a very long shower. I was determined to scrub my skin raw, ensuring every inch of filth was gone. Then I was probably going to burn my clothes. (Like I said, nasty stuff.)

I grabbed some fresh towels, and headed for the large shower by my room. It was a small version of a locker room shower, but I enjoyed the space, it wasn’t so cramped and stuffy. It was a fair way off from the boys’ rooms, just the way I liked it. They minded their own business, and I minded mine.

What I didn’t count on was Sam ignoring that rule.

I was already in the water when he quietly came in to the shower area. He had removed his shoes and socks, his bare feet not making a sound on the cold pavement. He quickly shed his clothing, then came up behind me, grabbing my hips and grinding his erection into me. Before I could scream, he put his hand to my lips and whispered, “It’s Sam.”

I whirled around in shock, only to have his lips crush mine, his tongue diving past my lips, teasing my own tongue into submission. I moaned, my arms wrapping around his neck. His response was to growl, reaching between us to my pussy, caressing my lips with his finger, and teasing my clit. I bucked under his expert touch, and he slid two fingers inside my wet center, and I cried out, coming instantly. He wasn’t even close to done, kneeling down to taste my juices, his tongue flicking out and lapping up the sweet nectar.

He hoisted my legs up to his shoulders, giving him more access to my soaked cunt. His mouth greedily began sucking my sensitive bud, while his fingers once again began thrusting in and out of me, it was a high like I’ve never experienced. He removed his fingers so he could use his tongue in their place, humming as he licked and sucked at my folds. Another climax slammed through me, I was sure I’d died and gone to heaven.

Yet he still wasn’t done.

“Why Sam? Why now?” I managed to ask breathlessly.

His eyes were dark, lustful, and his voice was equally so. “YN, you are constantly haunting my dreams. You’re all I think about. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Then he set me back down and stood, looking me in the eye. “Unless you want me to stop.”

I managed to shake my head and squeak out a “No.” That was the last of the talking.

His body pressed mine against the wall, and his hands lifted me up, then lowered me onto his hard shaft. I groaned as he slowly made his way in, stretching me, gloriously I might add, and my reactions caused him to moan. God he felt so good!

“So fucking tight, YN.” he whispered as he nipped my ear. His tongue trailed hot down my neck and shoulders as he finally bottomed out, then we both waited, panting, our bodies overwhelmed with the intensity of the union.

Then Sam began to move. And I realized one thing.

The moment before? When I had mentioned heaven? That wasn’t it.

This was.

I gasped as he began to thrust his cock into me, impaling me over and over, hands grabbing my hips as he set a fast pace. His body screamed for release, and he intended on getting it. Another ripple of pleasure shocks had my entire being singing the Hallelujah chorus as he managed to angle just right, his tip hitting that oh-so-sweet spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I leaned against the wet ceramic tile, giving Sam the opportunity to explore my other sensitive buds, the mounds of milky white flesh that begged to be squeezed and nibbled. And he did.

He reached with one hand to caress one breast, while his mouth captured the nipple of the other. His teeth tortured the areola, getting it hard, then his tongue circled around the hardened peak. My fingers dug into his hair, determined to keep him there. I wanted this feeling to last forever. His fingers twisted and played with the other one, his thumb flicking it lightly as his tongue had done wit the other. Again I found my body building to another climax. Damn, this man knew how to push my buttons, and I wasn’t complaining.

Then he dropped the boob obsession, and continued to pound into my cunt. Harder and harder, faster it seemed, having a need there to find his release. And he did. He cried out my name as he came, his seed shooting into my womb, filling it. We both took a minute to find our bearings, then he gently lifted me off his semi-soft cock and back to my own two feet. He grabbed my body wash, and began to lather it, then he washed my entire body from the neck down, every inch, every crack, every muscle. We didn’t leave that shower for a very, VERY, long time.

I became his obsession, his woman. Only his. He never looked at another, and I didn’t either. There was only him and I. What more did we need?

@legion1993

#samwinchesterbingo #plaidsbunkerchallenge #spnkinkbingo

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wendibird · 5 years ago

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Room of Revitalization

Author’s Note: So, this is my submission for @idreamofplaid ‘s Bunker Challenge. (Sorry it’s a day late!) And honestly, I have no excuse because this idea actually came to me several months before she declared her challenge. And I STILL procrastinated like a bad procrastinator who procrastinates. BUT it’s finished now, and I’m actually pretty happy with it. :)

This takes place between Episodes 14X8 “Byzantium” and 14X9 “The Spear”. I’ve tried to stay mostly canon-compliant while possibly taking a few liberties with explaining a few things or going into greater detail in some areas that the show didn’t have time for.

I signed up for: Original Room, and Sam-focused (Has a lot of his POV but also POV from other characters at times.)

Title: The Room of Revitalization

Summary: Sam has been working himself into the ground lately, trying to subsist on two hours of sleep a night or less while also being an emotional support for the people around him, and it’s taking its toll. But long ago, someone amongst the Men of Letters recognized the potential for burn-out among their fellows and worked a fail-safe into the Bunker that would activate when one of their own was pushing themselves too far. Trouble is, no one read the right manual that covers its existence, so when Sam seems to disappear into thin air, “worried” doesn’t quite cover how it makes everyone feel.

Pairings: None (Gen-fic)

Warnings: Minor language, talk of past posessions and other traumas experienced by the brothers but nothing explicit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, some fluff

Word Count: 6,414

Also found on AO3

Sam tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the extra-firm mattress that had been in the room when he and Dean and moved into the Bunker all those years ago. Dean kept bugging him to get a new one but he continued finding reasons to put it off. They weren't hurting for funds AS much as they used to be, thanks to a few artifacts he’d auctioned off online as well as Charlie, (THEIR Charlie) showing Sam a few tips in "Creative Fundraising" as she'd called it. But even so, he didn't NEED a new mattress. It's not like the springs were poking out of this one or anything like that. It just wasn't as comfortable as Memory Foam. Which was okay. He didn't need that much extra comfort. He didn't spend that long sleeping anyway.

With a sigh he turned over again and peered at the red numbers on his alarm clock. 2:30 am. He'd be getting up in a few more hours to check on any messages that might have come in during the night from the teams out on hunts. Plus, he still had some more research to do. One group was running into some problems with some murders that weren't fitting any of the standard lore. And he was still researching ways to take out an archangel. Dean was getting more and more antsy about that. Not that he blamed him. It wasn't easy knowing that the thing that had ridden you around for a while was still out there, still causing trouble, still hurting people, and you couldn't stop it. They still didn't know WHY Micheal had just let Dean go like that. Dean didn't want to talk about that either, and again, Sam couldn't particularly blame his brother. But it still niggled at the back of his mind. Micheal never seemed to do anything without a reason.

His arm started to get sore so he shifted over onto his stomach, tucking both arms under the pillow as he tried to get his thoughts to settle. But they continued to flit around in his head like a herd of humming birds. Or would it be a flock? Did humming birds flock? That would be pretty loud. They were louder than most people realized. He remembered one time they'd been in Colorado on a case. Boulder, wasn't it? They were interviewing a witness, sitting out on her back patio, and the little jeweled things had been zipping all around them, from one feeder or brightly colored flower to another. The buzzing of their wings had almost made him think of large insects. Dean had almost swatted one, purely on instinct as it buzzed just a little too close to his head, and the nice old lady had actually hit him with a fly-swatter, scolding him for trying to hurt her babies...

...Why the hell was he thinking about hummingbirds?

Rolling back over, he looked at the clock again. 2:40.

Thing was, he was actually tired. He felt like he should be able to sleep for days he was so bone-deep weary. Not that he could. People needed him to be there, doing what he did; keeping things running. Cas and Jack were off on a small case, just a little over the border in Nebraska. Dean was about ready to jump at any sliver of a chance that came up of dealing with Michael, whether or not they could confirm it was actually a “good” chance. Ketch was still trying to track down another of those golden eggs. (Apparently, the one they'd used on Lucifer back in the day, and then handed over to Cas for safe keeping had burnt itself out on the Archangel. Now it was a pretty paper weight sitting on Storage Shelf 32-C.) Jody and the girls had just had Thanksgiving with Donna over, had invited them all too, but... there was just too much going on. Always too much going on.

At least Jack was okay though. Well, mostly okay. His soul was keeping him alive now. That was another thought that lurked at the back of Sam's mind, like a dark-colored cat hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce when you weren't looking. One of their babysitters when they were kids had had a cat like that. It’d hated Dean for some reason. Was always trying to attack his legs when he’d least expected it. Sam had managed to coax it into letting him pet it a few times. He kind of wished he could get Jack a pet. Something he could feel responsible for, that would also return his affection unconditionally. Goodness knows, the kid needed someone or something that could be there for him.

A tightness formed in Sam's chest at the thought. He WANTED to be there for Jack. He wanted to tell him that he understood, maybe better than Jack thought. He remembered being able to help people with his powers, and then not. Of feeling that helplessness when faced with a demon wearing some innocent person when once he'd been able to pull that sulfurous black smoke right out of the person without killing them. But that was all tangled up in so many other things. Things about demon blood, and the Apocalypse, and his role in it, and Lucifer and Michael, (their Michael) and... and other things. Things he wasn't ready to talk about. And Jack didn't need all of that. He still blamed himself for so many things that weren't his fault. He didn't need to hear about all the horrible things his biological father and uncle had tried to do to the world. And Sam definitely didn't want to get into what it had taken to stop them. It wouldn't help Jack to know that about Lucifer now.

And in the same vein, he wanted to explain to Jack why it was SO important to use this new magic of his sparingly. He wanted to tell him why it was imperative that he not risk his soul. Because he knew... he had two sets of memories still, of that time when his soul had been in one place, and his body and mind in another. He honestly tried not to think about either. One left him reeling in agony, even to this day, and the other left him feeling cold and hallow. But how could he possibly explain to Jack about why he'd been running around soulless for about a year and a half without explaining everything else? He wasn't even sure if he would be able to if he tried. The mind had so many layers, and those memories, both halves, he'd tried to bury as deeply as he could because his brother had been right about hell. There was no "getting over" it. It would be there, forever. It wasn't meant for mortals to comprehend, and it couldn't be fixed with some therapy and talking it out. (Or screaming it out.)

And anything else he tried to tell Jack felt like it came up short. It wasn't enough. Wasn't what he needed. Same with Dean, really. He could probably understand how his brother felt better than anyone else. But the words, or at least the right ones, always seemed to get stuck in his throat. Plus... well, some comparisons he could draw might only make Dean feel worse. He didn’t have the words to help either of them, even as he saw them both struggling, so he’d put all his efforts into helping in any practical ways that he could; making sure Jack ate right so his body would have the strength it needed, researching solutions to the Michael problem, keeping the AU Hunters organized so Dean wouldn’t have to worry as much about all the other monster problems out there, even shouldering as much of the parenting responsibilities as he could so Cas could also be there for Dean. His brother didn’t exactly have a wide support system, so he wanted to be sure he and his best friend had chances to talk. If his brother ever actually felt like talking.

2:55. Exasperated, Sam gave up and got out of bed, deciding to give the bathroom a visit. Then maybe he'd find some boring lore to read.

~o~O~o~

After washing his hands a few minutes later, he started wandering in the general direction of the library. He paused for a moment as a yawn nearly dislocated his jaw, then noticed light coming from under and around a door that was just barely cracked open. He glanced at the room number but something about it... he shook his head abruptly, trying to clear it. It was like when he'd been up WAY too long, and he'd read the same passage in a book over and over again and none of the information would sink in. He hadn't thought anyone else was up...

"Um, hello?" He knocked tentatively on the door, but there was no answer. Opening it cautiously, he peered inside and raised his eyebrows a little. It was a room with the same concrete and brick walls and tile floor as most of the ones there, but where most had a utilitarian, or stuffy feel, this was... cozy. Set into the far wall was a fireplace of green marble that had white and black veins running through it, and a fire was already flickering inside behind a brass screen. Next to it was a coordinating brass bin that held extra wood and on the other side were some fireplace tools. In front of it on the floor was a braided rug in autumn colors upon which sat a comfortable looking armchair, complete with footstool and a small table next to it. The lamps scattered throughout the room gave off just enough light to make it feel inviting without being too bright. His eyes were next drawn to a bookshelf just to the right of the door against the wall. He barely noticed the door closing behind him as he moved to inspect it more closely, finding quite a few titles that he'd often intended to read just for the fun of it but for one reason or another had never gotten around to.

Well, he'd been looking for some way to get his mind to settle... Smiling, he pulled one from the shelf. Its cover was a faded red, almost the color of creamy tomato soup, and on the front in friendly, inviting letters was printed "The Marvelous Land of Oz". Stepping over to the armchair, he settled down into it with a contented sigh. It was comfortable. Really comfortable, considering he usually found it difficult to find chairs that actually fit his long legs and torso just right. A soft, plaid blanket that he hadn't noticed before was slung over the back and he pulled it forward, draping it over his legs before propping them up on the footstool. The lamp on the little table next to him gave off just the right amount of light; enough so he could read easily without straining his eyes, but not so bright as to be glaring. Comfortable now, he opened the book and began reading, the delightful prose helping his thoughts to calm their constant whirling.

~o~O~o~

Sam was just about to start into Chapter 10, "The Journey to the Tin Woodman" when he realized he was a bit thirsty. Dreading the long trip to the kitchen when he was already so comfortable, he almost considered ignoring his thirst for now when his attention was caught by a small but serviceable looking wet-bar against the far wall, made of the deep, rich mahogany that much of the furniture in the Bunker seemed to have been fashioned from. Strange... he hadn't noticed it earlier. But, he thought to himself, he hadn't really looked THAT hard at that particular wall either. Standing up and stretching, he then padded over to it, finding everything in good (and clean,) condition. He considered some of the alcohol that was available but wound up going with just some ice water (yeah, that was fresh ice in the bucket,) for now.

As he sipped the water he took a moment to really look around the room. It had a few wall-hangings, giving the place some color without being jarring to the eyes. Most were replicas (he figured) of old tapestries. There were also a few oil paintings of pastoral settings. In one of the closer corners was an old-time gramophone, the brass edging on the black, lacquered bell gleaming warmly in the firelight. Curious, he set his glass down and walked over to it, examining it carefully. It seemed like it might be in working order. Opening the wood-inlaid cabinet it was sitting on, he found an array of discs for it. Flipping through them idly at first, he paused when he came to one titled “Assorted works by Bach”. A soft smile pulled at his lips and he nodded a little to himself as he straightened back up again. Bach had always appealed to him; something about the precision and purity of the music helped him relax in ways that few other things could. After a few moments he got it working and soon the strains of two violins could be heard coming from the antique music player. He set the volume down low, not wanting to awaken Dean, then took his water back to his chair.

As he sat back down again a feeling of peace seemed to settle over him. A cork coaster was sitting on the small table next to the lamp, (had it been there before?) ready for his glass, and as he leaned into the supportive padding of the backrest, he felt it give way just a bit, and the entire back began to lean back with just a little intentional pressure applied.

If he thought about it... this room kind of made him think of the "Dean Cave". In the way that the "Dean Cave" was the ideal place for his brother to sit back and really relax, this place was ideal for him. Had Dean put this together for him? He was pretty sure they'd found every room to be found in the Bunker, and he would have remembered one like this. And honestly, Dean HAD put his own rec-room together entirely without Sam noticing. With a shrug, he decided he'd ask him about it in the morning. For now, he wanted to get back to his book. Pulling the blanket back over his legs again, he picked it up and delved into the next chapter.

~o~O~o~

Ten minutes later he was blinking as he tried to keep his eyes open, the lower sounds of a cello now reaching him from the far corner.

Twenty minutes later he was snoring softly, the book resting open across his chest. Gradually, the lights in the room seemed to dim, even the fire itself burning down low to just some softly glowing coals which kept the room comfortable but not too hot. The seat reclined back further and Sam sighed, unconsciously pulling the blanket up closer in his sleep.

~o~O~o~

“Where the hell is he?!” Dean yelled. Again.

If Castiel weren’t just as worried as Dean, he might have found himself annoyed at his friend’s constant repetition of the same question which obviously still didn’t have an answer. But, the angel WAS worried. “I don’t know Dean. We’ve searched every room in the Bunker. We even found a few previously undiscovered ones.” “And none of the cars are missing.” Jack added in, holding up a clipboard with a sign-out sheet, listing all the vehicles the Bunker crew had. Included were the antique ones left over from the previous Men of Letters as well as the random stolen or otherwise obtained ones used for the various other Hunters who came and went. Sam had put it together some while ago when most of the AU Hunters were still using the Bunker as their base of operations. It had made things much less confusing when trying to figure out what was available for supply runs and what was being prepped for going out on hunts. Jack had thought of checking it to see if anything was missing that shouldn’t be. “All the ones not here were signed-out a while ago by people out on long-distance hunts. So, he didn’t leave by one of our cars.”

“It’s been THREE days!” Dean yelled, his voice a bit rough. He’d been doing a lot of yelling for the past two. “His phone’s still here. His clothes are still here. His laptop’s still here. Looks like his bed was slept in. But no Sammy.”

Cas and Jack both nodded. They’d heard the litany of things-not-missing since Dean had called them about two and a half days ago. They had just been wrapping up the hunt they were on anyway, so they’d made their best speed possible back to the Bunker. (Cas didn’t usually like to go over the speed limit by THAT much, but they had mainly been traveling country backroads that were mostly deserted. And Sam was missing. Neither he nor Jack had debated the urgency of the situation.) When they’d arrived Dean had already searched the place high and low, but they’d all done another, even more thorough search; not just looking for Sam himself, but for any clues as to his mysterious disappearance. Little to nothing had been discovered though. There were no signs of blood or other injury, and as Dean had just said, none of the usual personal items were missing that Sam would normally take with him if he were leaving of his own accord. (And with his cell phone there in his room on his nightstand, they couldn’t try tracking him with that.) He hadn’t left by car, or at least, not by any of their cars. None of the warding had been tampered with, nothing looked odd or disturbed outside the bunker, and Castiel hadn’t sensed any odd energies or residues that weren’t normally there. It was like the younger Winchester brother had simply vanished.

He was trying to remain calm for both Dean and Jack’s sakes, but the truth was, all of them were very worried.

“Alright,” came the thick, brogue-accented voice of the most powerful witch any of them knew personally. (And fortunately for them, she had been feeling heavily inclined towards helping them in the past several years, especially, the angel had noticed, if it had anything to do with Sam.) “I think I’ve gotten all the things I’ll need. Now, if ye’ll all just clear one o’ these tables, I’ll get this set up.”

Usually ready for a snappy comeback, Dean instead set right to work clearing-off the table in the middle; the one that had his and Sam’s initials carved into it. Cas and Jack moved to help him with it.

Rowena set down the large bronze bowl she’d been carrying and began removing items from it: several different candles, a mortar and pestle, a silk cloth in which some various herbs were wrapped, a box of matches, and a few other bottles with different liquids or other substances. Her hand brushed briefly over Sam’s initials as she considered them. “Did he by chance carve these by his own hand? Or did ye each carve each other’s?”

Dean looked up briefly, apparently taken off-guard by the question, but noticing that she seemed to be asking in seriousness, he shrugged and shook his head. “Naw, we each carved our own.”

She nodded firmly and began pouring ingredients into the bowl. “Wonderful. I can use that as a focus.” Noting everyone’s perplexed expressions, she rolled her eyes a bit. “Think of it like a lightnin’ rod. Since he carved it, it’ll help draw the energies I’ll be usin’ t’ scry for him. Now, Dean, did ye get a hair or fingernail or somethin’ like that of his like I asked ye to?”

Dean paused in his pacing, nodding as he fished a small envelope out of his pocket. “Yeah, found a few hairs on his pillow.”

Rowena accepted them while Cas and Jack stood a bit to the side, watching curiously. Setting them carefully aside for the moment, she went to work grinding the herbs.

“Thar we go, I think we’re about ready.” Straightening up, she looked over her work again and nodded before waving an elegantly manicured hand at Jack. “Jackie-boy, would ye be good enough to turn off the lights in here?”

Nodding, seemingly glad to have something to do, Jack moved to turn off the overhead lights then each of the various table lamps. Meanwhile, Rowena began lighting the candles which were arrayed in a particular formation around the bowl with one alone, the white one, sitting directly on Sam’s initials. She lit it last, and once they were all that was illuminating the library she began chanting while methodically adding the last several ingredients. Last of all she dropped in the longish, brown hairs and the white candle flared brightly. Cas noticed that everyone, including himself, seemed to lean in closer, uncertain as to whether it was working or not. Rowena’s gaze remained fixed on the white candle, her brows slowly furrowing. “I don’t like that look…” Dean grumbled under his breath.

The red-head seemed to ignore him for several minutes as the candle flame alternately flared high then down low, almost winking out altogether. Eventually, it grew steady and even and Rowena blew out an exasperated sigh. “Well… that could’a been more helpful…”

“What? What’d you find out?” the anxiety that had gripped Dean since his brother’s disappearance plain as day in his voice.

“Well…” she paused for a moment, seeming to be gathering her thoughts more than any attempt at drama. “I found out that he’s alive, first and foremost.” The relief Castiel felt was clearly shared with the other two, if their expressions were anything to go by. “But,” she added, holding up her hand to forestall comments, “I canna tell where he is. At all. Well, he’s somewhere on Earth, I can say THAT at least. And that he doesn’a seem in bad health. But wherever he is, it’s blockin’ any attempts at findin’ him.”

Dean sunk into one of the chairs, a defeated look on his face.

Jack looked over at Cas, raising an eyebrow questioningly. The angel shook his head though. “I already tried contacting Naomi. Apparently, I’ve “used-up my favors” in Heaven at the moment. And besides, the Enochian sigils I carved into his ribs a while back would prevent him from being found by angelic means.”

Jack nodded, though his brows scrunched up in puzzlement. “Why would you have-” “Jack.” Dean’s voice, though not raised like it had seemed to be a lot lately, still held a note of command. “So not the time for that conversation.”

Jack sighed but nodded, his shoulders drooping as a feeling of despondence seemed to settle over him as well.

Rowena, who’d begun blowing out candles and packing up the supplies after turning on the nearest lamp now paused to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’a forget, wherever he is, he’s alive and he’s well. We know that much at least. Now, all we can do is wait an hope he returns.

Jack nodded slowly, though he felt a burning in his eyes that had nothing to do with the wisps of smoke rising from the extinguished candles. “But… what if he doesn’t?”

Rowena tried to smile encouragingly, but even she couldn’t keep the sadness from her eyes. She didn’t have an answer for him, so she just gave him another squeeze before going back to clearing-up.

~o~O~o~

Sam yawned and stretched, slowly waking up. As he did so, the lamps in the room gradually brightened and the fire flickered back to life, crackling merrily by the time he’d opened his eyes. Though he was completely comfortable, he also felt fully rested and sat up, the armchair reassuming its original configuration. At some point in the night he must have put the book on the small table because there it sat with a bookmark in it, next to the glass of still cold water. Feeling a bit thirsty, he drank down the rest of it before standing up and stretching, hearing several of his vertebrae popping.

“Might have to come in here more often…” he mumbled to himself, giving the room a last fond look before opening the door and walking back into the hallway. Everything still seemed pretty quiet, so he had no idea what time it was. (He made a mental note to see about putting a clock of some kind in there, next chance he got.)

After using the bathroom he followed the smells of frying bacon and eggs towards the kitchen. Stepping down into the room, he waved casually at those gathered, mumbling out a “Mornin’ everyone.” on his way to the coffee pot, pausing when he belatedly realized that not only had Cas and Jack apparently gotten back in the night, but Rowena was there too.

He didn’t really have time to ponder that before he was attacked by three grown men (well, two grown men and one angel,) trying to hug him all at once, and everyone was yelling, and asking him questions, and he couldn’t understand any of them cause they were all talking at once, and he was feeling very confused.

“Enough!” Rowena’s commanding voice cut through everyone else’s causing them to fall silent, though no one seemed inclined to let go of Sam anytime soon. “Samuel, dear,” she inquired sweetly, “Would ye be so good as to tell us where ye’ve been fer the past FOUR days?”

Sam’s eyes widened as he looked between those hugging him and the witch. “Four…. Days?” he responded weakly. (Cas seemed to have forgotten his own strength and breathing was steadily becoming more difficult.) The red-head rolled her eyes. “Och, will ye all let him breathe for a minute before ye suffocate the poor lad? Come on…” She tapped at various shoulders until, reluctantly, they let go of Sam who was starting to be able to breathe easier again.

Shaking his head at the shocking news, Sam moved over to the table they’d all just recently been sitting at. (Well, Cas, Jack and Rowena had been sitting at. Dean had been over by the stove cooking something.) “Dean,” he waved over towards the stove. “Think your bacon’s burning.”

Shaking his own head, his brother grumbled as he stalked back over to it. “Vanishes for days and then what does he do? Lectures me about my cooking.” There was no venom in it though. In fact, relief seemed to practically pour off of him even while doing something as simple as turning off the stove and dumping the extra-extra-crispy bacon onto a plate, which he brought over with him to the table.

While Dean was doing that, Sam did his best to collect himself as he tried to reconcile what they’d said with what he remembered. “I was here the whole time.” Reaching out, he idly took one of the pieces and began crunching on it. “In that new lounge room. Though I could swear I was just there from last night… well, early this morning really, til’ now.”

Four confused faces regarded him and he held his arms out in exasperation. “You know, that room I’m guessing you set up for me? Has a fireplace, a comfy armchair, some books, is actually decorated nice…” The faces only grew more confused and he realized now how unlikely it would have been for Dean of all people to have decorated a room like that with tasteful wall-hangings and oil paintings. “You didn’t put it together.”

It wasn’t really a question but Dean shook his head anyway.

Jack, who seemed not only confused but also getting close to irritated also shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. We searched the whole Bunker. Several times. We looked in every room and broom closet and corner in this place.”

“Samuel,” Rowena interjected, “Why don’t ye just show us where you were?”

Nodding, Sam lead the way back down the hallway, making a few turns until he at last came to a stop outside… a mop closet? Shaking his head, he opened and closed it a couple times, but it didn’t seem inclined to change back to the cozy room he’d spent the night, (or, the last 4 days) in. “I swear, this is where it was.” He was starting to understand how Lucy from the Narnia books had felt that first time she’d stepped back through the wardrobe. Only, the time dilation seemed to run opposite in this case.

“Hold on.” Cas said, and stepped closer, opening the door again. On the inside of it was tacked an envelope of some thick, old-fashioned-looking paper. Taking it down, he turned so everyone could see it. On the outside, in neat handwriting was written:

Room of Revitalization Report for Samuel Winchester Men of Letters Legacy

Cas turned it over and broke the red wax seal on the back with the Aquarian Star stamped into it. Opening it, he took out a sheet of paper, also written in the same handwriting. At the top was the current date then the following message:

Four days prior, the Room of Revitalization was activated due to the physical and emotional distress of one Samuel Winchester. (MOL Legacy, descendant of Henry Winchester) As per protocol 158-B the RoR provided comfort based on Samuel’s subconscious needs, releasing him once his chronic fatigue had lessened to acceptable levels.

In order to avoid future reoccurrences of this problem, the following steps are recommended:

Samuel should make all reasonable attempts to sleep for a minimum of 7 hours each night, though 8 would be ideal.

His work-load should be lightened. High levels of mental stress were detected in addition to the physical fatigue.

Several unresolved emotional issues were also detected in relation to close-working colleagues or family members, and should be discussed with them to help improve overall morale.

Several hours each day should be set aside for leisure activities.

It is suggested he be sure to ingest 3 nutritionally-balanced meals per day as well as keep himself hydrated.

Attention to personal hygiene is not only good for the body, but for his and others’ morale as well.

Had matters continued unchecked, Samuel would likely have experienced a mental and/or emotional break, as well as causing physical damage from aforementioned fatigue. We hope he will take these recommendations to heart so further intervention can be avoided.

This concludes this report, and the Men of Letters hope Samuel found his stay in the Room of Revitalization enjoyable and restful.

The signature at the bottom was next to impossible to make out.

After everyone had read it, they looked back and forth between Sam and the “report”, and for his part, Sam felt his face heating with embarrassment.

After a few awkward moments, Dean cleared his throat. “So… Looks like this place has an automatic ship’s councilor and holodeck.” He winked at Sam. “Was there a hot-chick in a skin-tight grey pantsuit in there too?”

Huffing a laugh, Sam swatted at his brother, honestly grateful for the tension-release. “Yeah, you wish. Maybe your version would feature Councilor Troi.” He started walking back to the kitchen and the others followed.

~o~O~o~

Later on that day after Dean had personally seen to it that Sam ate a full breakfast and then shooed him off to the shower, they all said goodbye to Rowena then settled down in the library.

Despite Sam’s insistence that he “really was fine now” Dean, with both Cas and Jack fully backing him up, were adamant that at least some of Sam’s workload should get redistributed. By now he should know which people could be relied on to do what so he didn’t have to micromanage everything. Jack was actually very helpful with that, having several ideas as he’d been observing the AU Hunters for some while now. And after a phone conference with Maggie, she agreed to help with organizing the various hunting parties and everyone (including Dean) insisted that they would help out with research.

After that, seeming to sense that the brothers needed to talk alone, Cas offered to go with Jack on a food run and they headed out, though not without both again expressing how glad they were that Sam was back and okay.

Once the steel clang of the door heralded their departure an awkward silence fell between the two. Sam idly scraped at some wax that had dribbled onto the table, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “Look,” they both wound up saying at the same time. After a brief chuckle, Dean gestured for Sam to go ahead. Nodding a little, the younger brother again fixed his eyes on the tabletop and the wax. “I’m sorry. Really. I know how worried you must have been.”

Dean was about to open his mouth, ask if he really did but then paused, considering, and…. Yeah. Sam would know how he’d felt. All the times Dean had died, or vanished, or been angel-napped? And then it hit him just WHAT Sam was apologizing for. “Sam. No.”

His brother looked up at that, his brows furrowed, clearly about to say something but Dean held up his hand, silently asking him to let him talk. “Look, I’m not happy that I spent four friggin’ days not knowing where the hell you were, but I’m glad it happened. Man, I know you’ve been pushing yourself. And I shoulda seen it sooner, I should have noticed how bad it was getting. And I’m glad that that “Room of Requirements” or whatever-”

“Room of Revitalization,” Sam corrected, but Dean waved it off and continued on.

“I’m glad IT at least noticed, and did something before it was too late. And… well, I want you to know, if you… you know. Need to talk…”

Sam half smiled but shook his head. “Dean… really. It’s okay. It’s just… lots of stuff is going on. I want to help Jack more, but I don’t know how. I can tell Mom’s still having problems but I don’t know how to help her either. I’m worried about whatever it is Michael is planning. I’m worried Jack’s going to run into problems eventually with his soul.”

Dean didn’t miss the expression that flashed across his brother’s face for just a moment there, that almost haunted look. He’d never really asked him what all he remembered from being soulless, but it was at times like these when he figured it was more than probably either of them would like. He was also aware of the one thing Sam wasn’t saying, the one person in his list of people he was worried about that he hadn’t mentioned. And he could pretty-well guess why.

Ever since Dean had come back, his possession, what he’d actually experienced and even more so how he felt about it, had been the proverbial elephant in the room with them. He knew Sam wanted him to talk about it, and he had to an extent… but he was also painfully aware of certain aspects of the whole situation that neither of them had come close to addressing; aspects of it that he tried to avoid even thinking about. Because even more so than the horror of what he’d experienced at Michael’s hands, what really got to him, and what lay curled somewhere deep in his gut was the knowledge now of just WHAT it was that he’d done to his brother all those years ago. But he knew Sam would never press him about it, and he just… he couldn’t talk about it. He still couldn’t talk about it.

So, taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, I get all that. Some of it you can’t really help with though, as much as you want to. Some people… well, they have to figure out their own shit, you know?” He met his brother’s eyes, hoping he’d hear what he wasn’t saying. “Sometimes, even if you know what someone else is going through, they still have to go through it on their own. They have to find their own ways to deal with it. But trust me… They know you care.”

Sam met his gaze and slowly nodded, letting what was unspoken remain that way.

Dean managed a half smile though. “But hey, maybe with Jack you two should go do something together. Hang out. Remind him that you aren’t just the “Rules Dad”, but the one who seems to really get him.”

Sam nodded, returning the half smile, though it seemed genuine. “Yeah… I think that sounds like a good idea.”

“Also,” Dean leveled a stern look at his little brother, “under absolutely NO circumstances are you to get anything less than 7 hours of sleep a night.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, 6 is standard for hunters. And I can make due on 5 without problems.”

“Nuh-uh.” Dean was already shaking his head. “I’ll have Cas knock you out if I have to, but you’re getting your sleep. We’re not risking this happening again.” “Well, what about you then?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“What about me?” Dean tried to look innocent but he had a feeling it wasn’t really working.

“Come on Dean, you barely get 4 hours if you’re lucky.”

“Hey, I’m not the one the Room of Recharging or whatever-”

“Revitaliztion.”

“Right, I’m not the one it cherry-picked for some enforced R&R…”

Their debate continued on in typical sibling fashion, but it was clear that most of the tension in the situation, at least for now, had been released. The spellwork that had been laid into the very walls of the Bunker long ago reverted back to its dormant phase as the crisis threatening one of its inhabitants was averted for the time being. But it would activate again if the need ever arose. Because Men of Letters tended to be a stubborn lot, and working themselves into the ground seemed to be a universal trait among them, which was why the room had been conceived in the first place. The Bunker watched over its own.

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spn fanfic #sam winchester #emotional hurt/comfort #gen #angst #minor language #past possession mentioned #past trauma mentioned #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #rowena mcleod #room of revitalization

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tumbler-tidbits · 5 years ago

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Bunker Bunch Ch.9- Nursery, Names, and Naps. OH MY!

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen and their kids OMC Shaggy & Crash

Word Count: 1375

Warnings: None, just floof and silliness

Summary: The Winchester’s make room for babies, and discuss possible names.

A/N:This is for @idreamofplaid Bunker Challenge, my prompt was Nursery!

Finding out we were expecting twins was quite a shock to say the least. But now it’s time to get down to business and start preparations before I’m so big I can’t move. First thing on the agenda? The Nursery.

It’s no secret that there is an abundance of rooms in the bunker, so that’s not the issue. We just need to tweak it a bit and make it feel more homey and less… you know, like an underground bunker.

I was fine with any of the rooms, but Dean insisted that it be the one between ours and Cas’, which put Sam and Eileen directly across the hall from the room, thus surrounding our soon to be kids by armed adults. Can’t say I had a problem with it though.

Dean & I decided to keep it simple with just some paint, and carpeting and then reuse some of the bunker furniture in the room. Then we settled on redoing 2 walls with siding, and the other 2 with paint to hide the tired old brick. An all the walls would be a soft grey. That was the plan, but the execution of said plan is not going so smoothly.

Sam and Dean put the siding up and the room already looks cozier, but now it’s time to paint. Of course, Dean’s already grumpy and constantly cursing under his breath at every damn thing, something about hammers and little brothers who can’t aim.

Then there’s Sam and Eileen. They are trying to help but the boys are fighting with them. Crash fussed over being made to take a nap, despite the fact that he was asleep in 5 minutes. And now, I can’t help but smile at the scene unraveling before me.

Sam and Shaggy, my oldest nephew, are in a serious debate over naps and the current status of one 4 year old tiny Winchester. Shaggy wants to help paint, but it’s past his Naptime and he’s getting fussy with every little thing.

God forbid Sam suggest it was time for him to go lay down for a nap with his brother, Shaggy immediately protested and now we’re gridlocked. Looks like he inherited that old Winchester stubbornness, great there’s something fun for me to look forward to.

Honestly I think having so many people in this small room is getting to our heads, so I make a suggestion,

“Ok guys, we’re all tired and getting cranky. Why don’t we finish painting this one wall, Shaggy can help, then he lays down and the grown ups take a beer break. Sound good?”

“I don’t wanna lay down m’not tired” Shaggy whines while rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

I squat down in front of him and look him in the eyes, but he avoids my gaze,

“JD, eyes up front buddy” I say, it’s a Winchester thing that I somehow picked up on. A sign of respect and proof your listening. Anyway, once he’s looking at me I continue,

“Sorry buddy that’s the deal. You can help paint this one wall and then take a nap. Or you can just go take a nap now, and we’ll paint without you”

I can feel all eyes on us, waiting for the inevitable tantrum to start. So I add to the loot,

“Tell ya what, you can even have your own paint roller all by yourself”

His eyes go wide as if I’ve just offered him a million dollars and he nods his head vehemently

“Yeah Ok!”

I smile and ruffle his hair as I stand then walk over to retrieve his prize. Sam speaks up then,

“What do you say dude?” He prompts

“Thank you Auntie Y/N”

2 hours later and all the walls are finally painted, 2 tiny Winchester’s are fresh from a nap and playing at the park with Sam, Eileen’s gone out to get some lunch and Dean and I are slumped on the floor of the nursery, covered in paint, sipping piping hot cups of coffee.

Everyone’s exhausted and we still have to lay out the rug, bring in the furniture, and put the cribs together. But right now, we just enjoy a quick break,

“So I’ve been thinking” I say catching Dean’s attention,

“Hmm?” He murmurs in response.

“We need to start talking about names”

“Yeah, what’re you thinking?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. We need at least 2 boy names and 2 girl names since we don't know what we’re having”

“Well” he sighs, “of course I’d like to honor my dad. Doesn’t have to be a first name, but at least a middle name”

“Ok, I can work with that. For a girl what about Charlie? I know she was like a sister to you and my grandmothers name was Charlotte. She’s the one who took me in when my parents were killed, y'know until she passed”

Dean gripped my hand, “That’s cute, I never thought of that. I also like Mary for obvious reasons”

“ Of course.I also think Caleb is cute for a boy and I Joanna for a girl”

“Those are okay. I don’t know, this whole naming a person thing is a lot harder than I thought” he shrugged.

“Ooh I know, for a boy we could do Dean” I say lightly jabbing him with my elbow.

“Oh God n…” he starts and then Sam walks in.

“What’re you guys doing? Slacking off”

“No, just taking a break, we were talking name ideas” I reply

“I know” Dean grins, “what about Samantha? I have to give homage to my baby sister”

“Very funny Dean” Sam says

“What? Your a girl Sam, why else would you have those luscious locks?”

“Yeah whatever Jerk”

“Bitch”

“Okay you two” I intervene “ let’s eat lunch and then you two can build some cribs” I say as I walk out of the room, leaving two whiny hunters behind.

Day two. After lunch yesterday we pretty much halted all construction. We were all too tired to finish everything in one day so here we were. This time we were smart and waited until the boys both went down for a nap before starting back up. That avoided several tantrums.

Sam and Dean had the carpeted rug rolled out and in place in no time, so I polished one of the old Men Of Letters dressers while Dean began the task of putting the cribs together.

Dean managed to get the first crib together, with much help from Sam, and was working on the second. By now the boys were up and “helping” Sam and Eileen move one of the old armchairs and ottomans from storage.

I couldn’t help but laugh when they came through the door with Crash hitching a ride in the chair! Once that was in place, Sam moved the dresser where I wanted, then he and Eileen bid us farewell while they took the boys grocery shopping.

Everything was pretty much done now, except that one pesky crib. I could hear Dean muttering curses while I fixed the bedding in the first crib. When I heard a crash and a shout of “SONOVABITCH” I decided to end his suffering.

I walked over and sat down beside him “what’s the trouble babe?” I asked rubbing his back,

“Nothing”

“Nothing? It sure sounds like something.”

“Stupid crib” he mumbled.

“Why don’t you have Sammy help you when he gets back?”

“No”

“Dean”

“I’ve rebuild the Impala a dozen times! I can build a damn crib!” He snapped frustratingly.

“Someone’s grumpy”

“M’not grumpy”

“Now you sound like the boys,” I laughed, “do you need a nap too?”

He leaned his head on my shoulder and mumbled yes. I carded my fingers through his spiky hair. We sat contentedly for a few minutes then Dean sat up and looked at me.

“You know, you could take a nap with me” he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

“Is that so?” I replied with a grin. Dean stood then, scooped me up and flung me over his shoulder and he headed towards our room as I shrieked laughter.

The nursery wasn’t done, but there’s always tomorrow.

END

Taglist: @idreamofplaid @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @pisces-cutie @covered-byroses @currentlyfangirling99 @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @xxhalfbloodprincessxx @supernaturalsammy01 @sammyimpala-67 @ladywinchester1967 @sweetiepie-dean @fangirl-forevers-world @thoughtslikeaminefield @bobasheebaby @evansrogerskitten @missjenniferb @sculptorofbeginnings @kbl1313 @spnskinnyballs @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @justcallmeasmodeus @ain-t-bovvered @purpleskiesandcherrypies @curly-haired-disaster @getnaildbyme @akshi8278 @rebelminxy @a-mess-of-many-fandoms

#the bunker bunch #tumbler-tidbits #supernatural #plaidsbunkerchallenge

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takikojou · 5 years ago

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The awesome @idreamofplaid started a challenge to explore Sam & Dean’s bunker a little. Here’s my part, a short, fluffly story about the closet. (I know, closet kinda screams for smut, but somehow, I liked it like this a little more. ♥)

The ordinary closet

The war room, the library, the dungeon. It happens time and again that people and monsters sneak into their home, creating a bloody mess, ending up dead on the floor. Dean grabbed the latest body and drags it outside to dispose it somewhere.

Sam walks down to the closet, located behind a simple wooden door in the kitchen. Everything about the bunker is extraordinary, the high-security architecture, the unknown source of electricity, the sheer endless amount of lore. It's all very impressive, except for the closet. It's as simple as any other closets Sam has seen and Sam has seen many closets, but hardly ever for a good reason. They were either a place to hide from whatever supernatural threat or he got locked in.

Like most other closets, this one is just big enough for one person to walk in, decorated with wooden shelves for detergents and metal hooks for brooms.

Detergents from the 50ies mixed with cleaning material from today, a variety of old brooms and new mops. Since several bloody incidents happened in the bunker, Sam and Dean had to stock up on mops as well. By now, they also have a big variety of cleanser: something for blood, something for mud and oil, some carpet cleaner that works surprisingly well on goo. Sam grabs the cleanest mop, some floor detergent as well as a bucket and closes the door again.

Sam carries the bucket filled with water and the mop to the war room, to the latest puddle of blood and starts mopping. The blood hasn't dried yet, therefore it's an easy task. He can't remember if he ever cleaned something else than blood from the floor. Blood, goo, left-over body parts, Sam knows very well by now how to get stains off furniture and fabrics, what detergent works best on different fluids.

After wiping away the last red drops, Sam takes all the stuff back into the kitchen. He's about to clean the bucket, when Dean comes back, quickly checking on his brother before going to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Sam stores all items back into the closet, but stops and looks at the pinkish coloured end of the four mops. They already threw a few away, not worth the work of cleaning them from blood and bits of skin. Maybe one day, he'll mop this place without any blood on it. One day, when he won't be exhausted from hunting or busy doing research, he will just clean this place for cleaning sake. Like a real home.

He doesn't realise that Dean is looking at him for a moment, standing in the kitchen entrance, wondering where his brother's mind went to.

”This must be one hell of a entertaining closet.” he jokes, finally taking the stairs down to the kitchen. Sam chuckles, grabbing the door's handle. ”This is probably the closest thing to normal that we've got.” Sam comments while Dean approaches, stopping by Sam's side. ”It's tiny, but man, these places can tell stories...”Dean grins, remembering a few girls he took to several school closets for a few minutes of fun. Sam just smiles, but looking down to the ground with melancholic eyes. He wasn't that kind of boy.

Dean looks at Sam, who's mind is about to wander off again.

”Sam? Go in there and turn to me for a moment, I need to show you something.” Sam's surprised by Dean's request, but he does as he asked. ”If you close the door, I'll...” But before Sam can finish his sentence Dean steps up to him, putting both hands on Sam's head and pressing their lips together.

At first, Sam's tense, unable to understand what's going on, but then slowly relaxes, closing his eyes. Sam slightly parts his lips and feels Dean's tongue entering his mouth, going full French kiss. Opening their mouths a little more, they create a beautiful, intimate moment playing with each others tongue, until Dean tenderly bite into Sam's lower lip before pulling away. Sam opens his eyes just to see the softest look on his brother's face. The warm, caring expression, despite everything they've been through, it's still there.

Dean smiles: ”Not so normal now, right?” Sam laughs, agreeing with him. After all, he now has his very own good memory of a closet. Taking a few steps back into the kitchen, Dean suggests preparing dinner. ”Yeah, that sounds good.” Sam answers, getting out of the closet, closing its door with a smile still playing around his lips.

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #bunker #shortstory

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clarinette07 · 5 years ago

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Dining Room Discussion

Entry for @idreamofplaid ‘s Bunker Challenge & also For my SPNDeanBingo - Falling in Love Square

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, unrequited love (or so they think), Fluffy Dean, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a happy ending

Also available on Wattpad and A03

Special thanks to @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog for being such a great friend and Beta! You are amazing!

"I'm going out! Do y'all need anything while I'm out?" Y/N hollered out from the garage doorway. Dean's ears perked up just a bit and immediately hollered back, "PIE!"

"Top of my list, Winchester," she says with a smirk. "See y'all in a bit!" With that, she left to town to get his pie, but most of all, some much-needed space away from the brothers. Especially a certain green-eyed hunter who seemed to taunt her day and night unknowingly. Dean Winchester was a man like no other - it was no wonder women seemed to fall all over him left and right, but the same could be said about little Sammy's good looks as well. No, it was the hunter's bravery, the brother's love, his fierce loyalty and strength in the face of danger that had captivated Y/N's heart. Therein lies her problem and reason for the need for space.

It was one thing to grow close as friends and hunting buddies, to bunker housemates, but when she felt her heart becoming more constricted whenever he found a leggy distraction for the evening or how it would flutter at the smallest gesture or compliment he would throw her way while undercover for a case, she knew things were changing from friendly to wanting something more. It wasn't that she thought he was a horrible person, on the contrary, she truly thought he was an amazing man. The problem was she knew Dean would never reciprocate the feelings that were brewing within her. So that is where these little "out of the blue" excursions came from. She needed to distance herself from him for just a little while when she could since doing so while on a case was impossible.

She really didn't have anywhere to go or really anything to buy, so often times she would just go to the local bakery, pick up Dean's pie and a hot cider than just sit and journal at the local park. It gave her some time to think and center herself, even though she must admit, most of the time was filtering through all the negative thoughts she had of herself. For the most part, Y/N thought highly of her abilities and skills when it came to hunting, and as far as looks go, she thought she was pretty enough, but nowhere near the level of beauty she saw in the female companions the boys would often gravitate toward.

Usually, it would be about a 45 minute to an hour that she would take to herself then she could go back to face the boys in close proximity again. Today was no different, however, it was the fourth Friday in a row that Y/N had taken off before Dean could even think of inviting her out with them for drinks at the bar. Really, she should have known he would realize sooner rather than later that something was up. He always was so much more than a pretty face or the brawn of the operation.

Dean's POV

As I heard the bunker door close, I couldn't help but wonder why Y/N seemed to be avoiding us. This was at least a month now of her running off for this or that, but I couldn't really complain because she always brought me my pie (unlike my so-called brother who always seems to forget it).

"Hey, Sammy! Do you know where Y/N keeps going? I know we don't need any supplies, so what could she be getting?" I couldn't help but wonder what was going on because over the last month and a half I've noticed Y/N start to slowly distance herself from us - Me in particular - and I can't help but wonder what it is I did to make her feel so uncomfortable around me that she always feels the need to run off?

"I'm not sure, Dean, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure Y/N would tell us if something was going on. Sometimes she just needs her space."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right... I'll see you later. I'm going to my room until she gets back with my pie."

I went to my room, but my thoughts would not stop going over any and almost every scenario I could think about of what she could be doing and why. The one thing that still did not sit well was how we seem to have grown apart and though I would never tell Sammy this, I miss the closeness Y/N and I used to have. Now she seems to go to Sammy for help more than me. She barely even looks me in the eye anymore... Maybe I did something?

While I'm rambling on in my head about this or that reason, I hear the bunker door close and I know she's home! I can run and ask her if everything is alright and I hope she doesn't just say everything's fine because I know something's up! As I get closer to the kitchen, I hear Sammy in hushed tones saying "Y/N, you can't avoid him forever, you gotta tell him how you feel..." I couldn't listen anymore. I hurried back the way I came, back to my room before anyone knew I was there. I couldn't believe it was ME she was avoiding after all! I don't know what I did, but I know I will make this right! Starting by making her most favorite fancy meal then I'll get her to talk to me. I have to know what I did - I want my Y/N back.

Next day

Y/N's POV

I knew Samuel Winchester was too smart for his own good. He saw right through my scheme to avoid more heartache, but honestly, I did not feel like I had an alternative option. I couldn't risk Dean taking the knowledge that I was growing deeper feelings for him and things will never be the same. I just put those feelings aside for now. I would try and face him tomorrow, but for now, I wanted to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to only Sam in the kitchen with a note next to him that Dean left saying he was making dinner for us tonight and to make sure to be ready by 7 pm to eat. Dinner isn't usually at a specific time, so this was a little odd, but who knows! Maybe it's to make sure he is able to still hit the bars afterwards? At least I could fake being too tired or too full to go with him. His food IS always delicious, so that would not be too much of a stretch.

It didn't matter, I decided to stay in my room and catch up on laundry and cleaning until dinner time came. About 6:30 pm, I decided to head to the kitchen to see if Dean wanted help with anything and saw that the dining room was set for two with candles and everything! Oh no! Did he plan a last minute date with some bimbo??? Did he seriously forget about promising to make us all dinner? I thought to myself. My thoughts were cut short by the sound of Dean cursing in the kitchen and a tray falling with a crash to the floor with a loud clatter. I ran as fast as I could to see what happened only to see Dean standing at the sink running cold water on his hand and a tray of my favorite food in disarray half on the tray and half scattered on the floor. In my confused state, all I can say is, "What the hell???"

Dean's POV

"What the Hell???" I hear Y/N from behind me. In my flustered panic, I accidentally grabbed the tray with Y/N's favorite food and forgot I just took it out of a 400-degree oven! Smart Dean! Real smooth! NOW her dinner is ruined and I screwed up the surprise!

"Y/N! You weren't supposed to be here for another 30 minutes!" Please let me be able to salvage this night, please Chuck, Please.

Y/N's POV

"What???" Yeah, real eloquent there, Y/N! Good job! "Wait? That fancy dinner spread is for me???" Am I dreaming? Did I get caught by a Djinn???

"Yeah! Didn't you get my note?" Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I got the note, but when I saw the table set for two, I thought you forgot."

Dean looks wide eyes and a little surprised at the statement. "I would never forget a night with you. Look! I even tried to make your favorite food! At least half of it is eatable" he says with a shoulder shrug and a cheeky grin.

Y/N could barely contain the emotions bubbling up inside her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, but she knew she had to keep her emotions in check. Dean was just being nice - ridiculously sweet and cute and just nice. Nothing more.

"Please don't cry, Sweetheart," Dean said as he came closer and engulfed Y/N in his warm embrace. Not helping, Y/N thought to herself, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away either. "What is all this for, Dean?" She finally asked. Did I miss a special occasion or something? She thought to herself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean looked away shyly and said, "I know you're upset with me, but I couldn't bear another night of you away and running off for hours at a time. I know it sounds strange and you only see me as a friend, but I had to try and make it right whatever it was because There ain't no me if there ain't no you. So, can we sit and try and talk out whatever has come between us? Please?"

I was stunned! THE Dean Winchester is pleading with ME?!? I really must have hit my head hard! Before I knew what was happening, Dean grabbed my hand and gently led me to the beautifully decorated dining room. Like I mentioned before, in passing I saw the two place settings, but what I missed was that the table cloth was my favorite color, the plates were the GOOD China, not just cheap take out containers or bags of wrapped burgers. He even got my favorite fruity drink that I always tried to hide I liked! Now I KNOW this has to be a Djinn! I reach for the dinner knife and stick my hand out to keep Dean back, but he is too quick and too strong and with a gasping leap he gets the knife away from me.

"What the Hell, Y/N??? What are you doing?" He asked with fear and disbelief in his eyes.

"There is no way my Real Dean would do this for me. You're a Djinn Dean! There is no way this is real!" Y/N is so close to a breakdown, she can barely keep it together. Her eyes are filling with tears but her voice is trying to sound strong and confident. With those words though, Dean breaks and allows his head to fall and shakes it in sad disbelief. The woman he loves doesn't believe he loves her enough to do this for her. How much did he mess up their friendship? He thought they were closer than this, but maybe there is hope after all if this is what she thinks is a dream version of a happy life for her?

"Y/N, Sweetheart, this isn't a Djinn world and you are not dreaming after being knocked out. This is REAL! Sit with me and eat some of those nasty (favorite food) and you'll see!'

With some trepidation, Y/N gave it a shot and sat at the dinner table in the rarely used dining room set for two in the Bunker and listened to Dean walk her through the escapade that was dinner. She had to admit, with so many blunders, there was no way this could be a Djinn world and never in a million years could she imagine a night like this with Dean. which brings her back to his explanation as to why he did this in the first place. All at once, his words come rushing to her mind.

"Dean, Why did you think I was upset with you?" She softly asks as she reaches out to grasp his hand to get his attention. Stunned, Dean is taken off guard by her question. With a quick clearing of his throat, he begins to answer her question.

"Well, you have stopped going with me to bars after out hunts and you just seem to never want to be around me anymore. Then I heard you talking with Sam and when he said "you can't avoid him forever", I knew then that I did something, but I have no clue what. That's why I wanted to make you a peace offering to hope to make up for whatever I did."

Panic! That was all that was happening in Y/N's mind at the words "I heard you talking with Sam." But, he must not have heard it all if he thinks that I am avoiding him just because I'm upset? Y/N thinks to herself. "Was that all you heard? You didn't hear anything else?" She asks just above a whisper out of fear of the answer. Please, Please, PLEASE let that be all that he heard.....

With a puzzled look and a nod of confirmation, Y/N released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Good, that's good, um, well, I guess it's only fair since you opened up to me, I should be open and honest with you, too." With one last big sigh of breath, Y/N closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that this would not blow up in her face. "Dean, promise me, no matter what, you won't kick me out?" She looks at him expectantly, waiting for his response and with his quick response of "Of course!" while reaching out to hold her hand in his, he gives a slight squeeze as an encouragement to continue.

"#1, I could never be upset at you, at least not for long," she says with a small chuckle, "That couldn't be farther from the truth. Hurt maybe, but not upset or mad."She said with a faraway look in her eyes.

Hurt? Why would she be hurt? Dean thought as she continued her confession around the dining room table.

Letting out a deep breath, she continued "And really, you haven't done anything wrong! You're a man, you have needs, we ALL do! So, who am I to get jealous of a one night stand? You're much too important to me for me to let those emotions get the better of me and our friendship. This night has been so wonderful, even with the Djinn scare," she says with a light-hearted chuckle, "but it just reminds me of something I can never have as a hunter. It's why I go off on my own in the first place. So I don't get lost in the 'What If's' of the possible Apple Pie life I couldn't have a taste of."

Dean's POV While Y/N was rambling on and on, something she tends to do when she's nervous, I couldn't help how my hope rose as she continued. Maybe I DO have a chance to get my girl!

"You can't hunt with someone who has their head in the clouds. You need someone focused and on their A game. I can't do that if I'm constantly dealing with the battle going on in my mind, too."

Knowing now that she's not mad, just hurt and jealous of me going out to try and get her off my mind too, I took a leap of faith and hoped it wouldn't blow up in my face. I lunged forward from my chair, grasped both of her hands in mine and her breath caught in her throat as our eyes locked for the first time since she started rambling. Taking a steadying breath, I spoke the words I had been afraid to share with her or anyone about my feelings for her.

"Sweetheart, you gotta take a breath for me and listen when I tell you, I'm so sorry I ever made you jealous and hurt you by going off with other girls. You are the LAST person on Earth I would want to hurt. I wasn't blowing smoke when I said 'there ain't no me if there ain't no you'. I don't know what I would do without you in my life, Kid. I - I care so much about you it kills me when you're not around. Y/N, you know I'm not the best with words and feelings, but I think I've crossed a line somewhere in our friendship and I fell in love with my best friend. I hope this doesn't make you pull farther away from me, I don't think I could take that."

Y/N's POV

Sparks erupted from the moment Dean's hands touched mine. I was lost in those beautiful green eyes and then he told me to breathe and it was like the world stopped. As I listened to all he had to say with bated breath, I felt my heart skip a beat when I heard the words I've longed to hear from him. He loves me!!! The Great Dean Winchester LOVES little ole me! I couldn't believe it, my wildest hopes and dreams actually came true! But wait? Why is he just staring at me? CRAP!!! I zoned out! ANSWER HIM, DUMMY!!!!

"Dean, I couldn't bear that either. I couldn't imagine life without you close because I love you, too." Said just above a whisper, too choked up to speak louder. Y/N's eyes welled with happy tears as Dean's face broke out into a genuine smile she hadn't seen for a long time. And from that moment on, they vowed to never again be without one another. <3

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spndeanbingo #spnfanficpond

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princessmisery666 · 5 years ago

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Day 25/366 Becca’s Reblog Challenge

@peridottea91 💜💜💜 awkward and shy Sam and Whiskey and Flirting. This is cute and sweet and just *swoon*

Old Books and Whiskey

Summary: Sam makes for a good distraction while researching in the archives

Pairing: Sam x unnamed female/reader; Dean mentioned

Words: 1218

Warnings: implied smut, mutual pinning

Author’s note: My submission for @idreamofplaid‘s In the Bunker Challenge. My room was the Archives (w/ Sam).

Beta’d by: n/a

The Men of Letters’ Bunker was undoubtedly a wonder. When she first was dragged there several months ago, the outside of the building was a bit daunting. Even with the reassurances of the Winchester brothers, she was wary of entering what looked like an abandoned power plant. But that’s where all suspicions ended. As soon as she descended the stairs to the War Room, and crossed into the impressive private library, she was hooked. This was where she belonged.

The smell of old books and whiskey was her favorite smell.

She would spend days at a time combing through whatever tomes the bunker offered her. However, when she discovered the Men of Letters archives (which was also the dungeon), she couldn’t contain her inquisitive spirit. Before long, she had become ingrained in a routine where mornings were spent in the library with a cup of tea, and afternoons in the archives with a glass of whiskey.

This was where Sam found her one particular afternoon, busy combing through the records and files of Men of Letters’ past. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him- she was tucked up in a chair she had Sam drag in from the library (“Its more comfortable!”), her hair piled in what was an attempt at a bun but pieces were falling down, and her large-rimmed glasses were slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. She always looked so beautiful like this, focused and in her natural habitat with her nose stuck in a book. Maybe that was why Sam found himself falling harder and harder for her day by day.

Sam strolled to where she sat at the table, refilling her glass before filling his own and taking a seat across from her. Suddenly the archives felt oddly cozy. She looked up at him, gave him a soft, sweet smile, before returning to her note-taking.

“Find anything good?” Sam asked, watching her with interest.

Keep reading

#becca's reblog challenge #plaidsbunkerchallenge #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #Sam Winchester #sam x reader #sam x unnamed female #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x unnamed female #MoL Bunker #MoL archives

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idreamofplaid · 5 years ago

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In the Bunker Challenge Update

Today is the day! It’s June 18th. Thanks to all of you who have submitted fics. If you submitted yours recently, I’m catching up on my notifications. I’ve enjoyed reading them so much.

If you haven’t submitted yours and still want to, message me. I’ll be posting the Masterlist on Saturday so you still have time!

Challenge Participants: @gabby227 @peridottea91 @idabbleincrazy @crashdevlin @endless-wingspan @sammit-janet @wingedcatninja @evansrogerskitten @roxyspearing @mariekoukie6661 @myinconnelly1 @aihoshiduo @coffee-obsessed-writer @dean-winchesters-bacon @thedreamsmith @supernatural-took-me-over @alleiradayne @thoughtslikeaminefield @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @princessofthefandomrealm @maddiepants @sweetness47 @takikojou @ladywinchester1967 @heycasbutt @tumbler-tidbits @anotherwaywardsister @blushingjared @girl-next-door-writes @abbessolute @wendibird @dontshootmespence @waywardbaby

#plaidsbunkerchallenge

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alleiradayne · 6 years ago

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Poison

Summary: Dean and Elizabeth are working on a truck in the garage of the Bunker. Square Filled: Spanking Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Smut. Fluids. Rough sex. Some dirty talk. I’d bring a change of underwear. Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Elizabeth Andersson Word Count: 2,582 A/N: For @spnkinkbingo. Dean and Liz really like banging in the garage. Beta’d by @atc74 Song: Poison by Alice Cooper (yes I know it’s cheesy, no I don’t care).

“Alright, try it again.”

Dean pressed the clutch to the floor and torqued the ignition. Starter and alternator turned over with repeated revolutions, but the engine struggled to fire. A grimace contorted his face as he throttled the accelerator to no avail. The old pickup truck shuddered to stillness as he snatched the key out of the ignition, and he popped the clutch with a careless release of his foot. “Dammit! Fuck this thing, why won’t it start?!” His shout echoed through the garage of the Bunker, followed by his yelp of pain as the side of his fist connected with the hardwood steering wheel.

“I uh… I think I know what the problem is,” Elizabeth said as she leaned against the fender cover. “There’s… yeah, this is…”

She disappeared under the hood and Dean missed the rest of her thought. Not because he couldn’t hear her from beneath the hood, but because he’d stopped paying attention. Even in coveralls and smothered in grease, Elizabeth cut a figure that weakened his knees. No. Fuck that. Especially in coveralls and smothered in grease, Elizabeth stopped Dean’s heart cold.

He stared through the open window of the old C10 pickup truck at the curve of Elizabeth’s ass rounding over the fender. He couldn’t help himself. Over the last year, with Elizabeth and Natalie living in the Bunker and hunting together, she’d grown on him. Sure, he had been attracted to her damn near since the day they’d met—how could anyone blame him? Elizabeth had practically fainted right into his arms—but that felt like a lifetime ago. Everything had changed since then. Especially Dean.

Sort of. At least, the way he thought about his minimal sex life had changed. And with that thought, his daydream clouded, leaping from one lewd fantasy to the next; he tasted her on his tongue, his face buried between her cheeks as he spread her lips and devoured her. Elizabeth spread her legs as he angled the tip of his cock to her cunt and slipped inside. The slap of their bodies echoed in his mind as Dean thrust into her, and she cried out his name as she begged for more, more, yes, fuck me, Dean, yes, Dean, Dean—

“Dean?”

Elizabeth stared at him through the window with her angular brow and lips thinned to a narrow line. “You okay?”

Dean shifted in his seat, adjusting the hard length of his cock to ease the ache between his thighs. Though he tried to cover his discomfort, Elizabeth noticed, and her frown snapped to a crooked grin in a heartbeat. When Dean found the words to speak, he said, “Uh yeah, I’m fine. What's… what were you saying?”

She held aloft the distributor cap, a scorched ring of black marring the metal. “Distributor cap is toast. I think we have a few but I don’t know if they’re any good or if they’ll fit…”

She headed for the workbench and Dean took the opportunity to breathe through several deep inhalations, calming his racing heart. Though the rapid beats slowed, his erection persisted, and Dean cursed as Elizabeth returned with parts and tools.

“One of these ought to work,” she started, but when she spotted Dean still sitting in the truck, she paused. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Dean smiled despite his embarrassment. “You,” he started, “working on the truck. It's… something else.”

With a roll of her eyes, Elizabeth returned to the engine. He should do something about it. She wouldn’t mind. Hell, Elizabeth was the kind of woman that, when propositioned the perfect way, would fuck him wherever he wanted. She seemed particularly fond of his man cave—oh, he had shared it with her, and Sam would never let him live that down. The occasional backseat session in both Baby and Val frequented her list. But her favorite had to be the garage.

Dean slipped from the truck while Elizabeth worked, intent on surprising her. Careful steps rounded the door as he reached, fingers splayed as they flattened against her ass. As he had expected, she maintained her focus on the truck, determined to fix it. With a new distributor cap connected, Elizabeth rose from the fender and shot him a look over her shoulder. “Turn it over again.”

She teased him without remorse, and Dean enjoyed every second of it. When he sat back on the bench behind the wheel, he wondered where she might take him. As he pushed on the clutch and turned the ignition, he wondered what she might do to him. And when the engine fired with a roar of cylinders and exhaust, Dean leaped from the truck, dumbfounded.

“Son of a bitch, you were right,” he muttered.

“What?!”

Elizabeth motioned for him to repeat himself, but before Dean spoke, he shut off the engine. “I said, you were right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” she started, “I’m a goddamn mechanic.”

Her confident grin and easy laugh teased at his senses. “Nicely done,” he added as his hand connected with her ass without a single thought.

Good job. Good hustle. Nice play. Way to go. The congratulatory ass-slap. Why did we do it? Of all the things men did to congratulate each other, why do we slap each other’s asses? He had meant it in precisely that way. She’d done a great job and he thought she should know.

Except he had not anticipated the pristinely desperate moan that rent from her lips the moment his hand met her ass. He had not anticipated much of anything really. And it seemed as though she had not either, face red and a hand over her mouth. With the damage done, Dean doubled down. And Elizabeth owned it.

The second slap echoed through the garage and on its heels rang a high cry of ecstasy the likes of which Dean had rarely heard from her. Not that he ever failed to pleasure her to the fullest. But that cry seemed to be a whole new level of arousal for her.

“You just gonna stand there with your hand on my ass?”

His eyes snapped to hers as she glared at him over her shoulder and leaned over the fender of the truck, back arched and all but presenting herself to him.

Dean had died. And he was in heaven.

His hips pinned her to the truck as he reached beneath her arms for the buttons of her coveralls. Impatient, he tore the fabric, metal buttons popping apart, and he wrenched it over her shoulders. Beneath that layer he found a plain tank top over a plain bra, and Dean wasted no time in discarding both. The coverall clung to her hips, and for a moment, Dean stepped back to admire his handiwork.

She belonged in art. Not just a magazine—although, Dean thoroughly enjoyed the thought of that—but in some real, honest to god, Italian fucking Renaissance art. The haphazard cascade of fabric over her hips hinted at more, at what she had in store for him. The coquettish curl of her lips with her beckoning gaze sucked the air from his lungs and spun the room in a dizzying rush of arousal. She was the stuff of wet dreams and midday boners and popped cherries all in one.

And Dean had her all to himself.

With a gentle tug, her coveralls fell to her ankles along with her underwear. And though Dean wanted nothing more than to dive right in to feast on her flesh, he waited. Several silent seconds ticked by, and after twenty of them, she looked over her shoulder, lips poised to speak. But the flat of Dean’s hand met her ass again, and with no less enthusiasm than the first time, Elizabeth cried out her pleasure.

“Spanking, huh?” he asked when she quieted.

Elizabeth mewled through a breath as she replied. “Hell yeah. Something about the way you do it, though… holy shit. It's—”

Another loud slap echoed through the garage with Elizabeth’s cry. Her entire body writhed, hips rolled and back arched as she melted before him. A bright red hand print swelled, distinct against her pale skin, and Dean soothed the supple flesh of her ass with his tender touch. “It’s what? Too much?”

Elizabeth shook her head, vehemently disagreeing. “Fuck no, it’s… barely enough. I want more.”

More. Christ, if he gave her any more, he might actually hurt her. “You want me to spank you,” Dean started, “as hard as I can?”

A flare of excited fear flashed in her hazel eyes. “I think so,” she said. “If it’s too much, I’ll say so.”

Damn that woman. Damn her and her sopping cunt and perfect ass and lusty gaze. As impatient as he was to fuck her silly, Dean gathered his willpower and stepped beside her. “This is really going to hurt.”

“Oh, I know,” she assured him with a shift of her hips.

Dean ogled the jiggle of her ass as she kicked one foot from her coveralls and spread her legs. “Do your worst, Winchester,” she said with another coy smirk over her shoulder.

Steady, he had to hold himself impossibly steady for what he was about to do. So, with one hand at the small of her back, Dean wound up, reaching high over his shoulder. His hips and shoulders torqued as he swung his arm, twisted into the turn, and his hand collided with the meat of her ass so hard, Elizabeth screamed. Not in pain, but in absolute exultation, the height of her arousal, just shy of orgasming, achieved. The thump of Dean’s heart railed against his ribs at the sight of her quivering body, all weak knees and heaving shoulders, so supine and ready. He had to have her then. Nothing could hold him back any longer.

In a flurry of limbs and fabric, Dean stripped from his coverall, tore his shirt overhead, and shoved his pants and underwear to his knees. His cock fell free of the fabric to land heavy between Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she startled with a moan so wicked, Dean wished for a bed. Instead, he steadied himself against her, a hand grasping her hip and the other the base of his cock as he angled it to her lips dripping with arousal. He teased her flesh with his, the swollen head not quite inside her as he dragged it through her cum. A test. He needed a test, to know what she had in store for him before he went all in.

His left hand connected with her cheek, and though he heard her high mewling whine, Dean’s broken cry drowned her voice. The pulse of response in her cunt flexed around the tip of his cock, and beholden to hear wiles, Dean thrust his hips, slamming his pelvis into her. With his cock buried in her pussy, they moaned together a long, low sound deep in their throats.

Elizabeth moved first as she rolled her hips with short, smooth strokes of his cock. Mesmerized, Dean stared at her ass as she picked up speed, her supple flesh bouncing against his pelvis. He had definitely died, and this was definitely heaven. His woman took from him exactly what she wanted and demanded what she needed. And if she needed to be spanked, Dean could give that to her in spades.

He lost count after the first. As she bottomed out against him, he’d struck hard and fast, and together they cried out in ecstasy, growls and whimpers between them both. He followed her demands, her orders for more, and not only with his hands. The longer they fucked, the more vulgar Elizabeth vocalized her needs. Between fuck me harder and spank me, Dean, he had to sweeten the pot with his own lascivious thoughts.

“You like being spanked, sweetheart?” he breathed, voice punctuated by his thrusts. “Have you been a bad girl?”

She breathed her reply through her moan. “Oh, so bad, Dean.” Her hips thrust in time with his. “I think about you and Cas. A lot.” She paused with a moaning breath, then added, “It turns me on.”

“Oh?” he asked. “Sounds like quite the fantasy,” he groaned with a rush of arousal. “Might have to try it someday.”

“Really?” she sighed. “You’d do that—”

Dean’s hand landed on her ass once more with a sharp smack and Elizabeth’s moan reached the heavens, her back arched and chin raised. Poised so, Dean reached for her throat and leaned into her as he wrenched her back, flush to his chest. With his lip on her ear he whispered, “I’d do anything for you. Even this.”

The flat of his palm railed against her ass again, and Elizabeth startled with a wailing cry. “Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna come!”

He thrust harder as she met him half way, and with another ringing slap of her ass, Elizabeth convulsed, her entire body shuddering silently in his grasp. And then praise rained from her lips in a string of obscenities and benedictions, the wet heat of her cunt throbbing around him as she came. Opaque white gushed from her with his relentless thrusts, coating his cock and spread to her thighs. Elizabeth begged him to stop, to slow down at least, but he held her fast as he pounded into her. With her orgasm, the urge to come inside her sent a rush of blood straight to his cock. Relentless, he thrust into her overstimulated cunt, racing to his release.

Except Dean had forgotten her reach.

When the flat of her hand landed on his ass, the rush of Dean’s climax barreled into him with such force, he screamed. A pathetic thing, really, that sudden, short shriek of adulation preceded the hard, prolonged flex of his cock as he came with his hips planted against her ass. Involuntary thrusts of his hips drained him of his load and sapped him of all his strength. He collapsed against her, hand falling from her throat and replaced by his lips. For several moments, Dean resolved to simply breathe her in, and Elizabeth supported them both as she leaned against the truck. Bless her beautiful ass for that.

“That was fun.”

Her horse alto dragged him up from the depths of his mind, floundering in a vast ocean of serenity. When Dean rose from her, the bright red welt covering her right cheek caught his eye and he traced the edge with a delicate fingertip. “Does it hurt?”

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because it looks… it just looks like it should hurt,” Dean explained.

Elizabeth laughed at that as she hitched her hip into him. “Take a picture, lover boy, it’ll last longer.”

Over her shoulder he found her tired gaze, hair plastered to her forehead and beads of sweat running down her back. “Are you serious?”

She grinned a wicked thing as she stood—Dean shuddered with another pathetic whimper as she withdrew from him—and pressed herself flush to his chest. With her lips against his she said, “Or we can do it again later. In my room. You can take a picture then.”

He matched her smile with one of his own and a subtle kiss pressed to her lips. When he parted from her, he leaned down to the floor and dug his phone from his jean pocket. That wondrous flash of excitement ignited in her eyes once more as Dean spoke.

“Turn around.”

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27

Dean’s Dames:

@supernatural-jackles

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