#spn castiel smut

[goldenispunk]

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating Dean Winchester....

[take-it-on-the-run]

Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean’s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago stood awkwardly, waiting for you to fully wake up.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-six?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-five?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

[wolvietxt]

can you do overprotective with dean winchester?

from this prompt list 🩷: https://www.tumblr.com/wolvietxt/764960124626403328/overprotective-sunshine-is-about-to-do-something?source=share

DEAN’S voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding, stopping you mid-step on the wooden ledge. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?”  

you froze, looking over your shoulder to see him stalking toward you, his expression hard enough to rival stone. his green eyes burned with something between frustration and fear, and it pinned you in place like a physical force.  

“we don’t have time to waste,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “i’ll go first and make sure it’s stable.”  

dean’s jaw clenched, and his boots ground into the gravel as he closed the distance between you. “no. you’re not stepping foot on that thing.”  

“dean - ”  

“don’t dean me,” he snapped, cutting you off. “you’re not doing it.”  

“someone has to,” you argued, gesturing toward the rickety bridge swaying precariously over the canyon. “we can’t just stand here debating.”  

“then i’ll do it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “no way in hell am i letting you go out there first.”  

“why does it always have to be you?” you shot back, your irritation bubbling to the surface. “i’m not some damsel you have to protect, dean. i can handle myself.”  

“it’s not about that,” he said, his voice dropping low, rough with an emotion he rarely let slip. “it’s about me not being able to handle it if something happened to you. so stop being stubborn and let me do this.”  

his words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. he didn’t look away, didn’t try to soften the intensity of his gaze. it was like he needed you to understand, to take him seriously.  

you sighed, stepping back slightly. “fine. but if you fall, i’m not carrying your ass back up.”  

the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, turning toward the bridge.  

he tested the first plank with his boot, his movements deliberate and cautious. the wood groaned under his weight, but it held, and he took another step. you watched, your hands clenched into fists at your sides as he made his way across.  

“dean,” you called, unable to keep the worry out of your voice.  

he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression softening for just a second. “i’m fine. just hang tight.”  

it felt like an eternity before he reached the other side and turned to face you.  

“all right,” he called. “your turn. take it slow.”  

you stepped onto the bridge, your heart hammering in your chest as the wood creaked beneath your feet. you kept your eyes on dean, his steady gaze a lifeline as you moved forward.  

when you finally reached him, his hand shot out, grabbing yours to help you over the last step.  

“see? no big deal,” you said, though your legs felt like jelly.  

“reckless,” he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.  

“overprotective,” you shot back, your lips twitching into a smile.  

“damn right,” he said, his eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every detail.  

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, dean leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. it was soft at first, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. but when you didn’t, he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your skin.  

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “you drive me crazy, you know that?”  

you grinned, your fingers curling into the front of his jacket. “yeah, but you love it.”  

he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t push your luck, sunshine.”  

you giggled, the sound light and unburdened as the tension between you melted away. for once, you let yourself lean into the safety of his presence, knowing he’d always be there to catch you.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing, @jackles010378

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[figthoughts]

dean and angel!reader headcanons *°࿐

⭑ when you first met the winchester brothers, dean decided straight away that he didn’t like you. he initially saw you as nothing, but a “self-righteous little feathered nuisance” who didn’t have a clue how the world worked. but as the months passed, he slowly grew fond of you, enjoying your endearing little quirks and the way you were so intrigued by the world around you; he realised you were so much more than just a celestial being. he also loved the way you and castiel would interact like siblings. cas actually played a huge part in helping you bond with both brothers.

⭑ of course his favourite petname for you is angel, but his other favourites include: little bird, dove, birdie & feathers. they started off as a way to mock you initially, but they stuck, and now they’re only said with love. he always enjoys calling you sweet thing, pretty girl, sweetheart, lovebird etc. anything that makes your pretty little face light up.

⭑ dean adores how fascinated you are by the world and by humanity in particular. the way you ask odd little questions and quirk your head as you absorb information. he loves watching things click in your brain and the soft gasp you always expel as you put two ‘n two together in your head.

⭑ his heart continues almost burst every time you make jokes and reference things he’s taught you about— like movies, pop culture moments, music. he finds it so heartwarming because he sees himself reflected in you. he loves that you like what he likes, and that you’ve grown to adapt his sense of humour.

⭑ dean loves how overwhelmed and moved you get by music, especially by sappy poetic songs that he hates. he puts up with your music taste because he loves how your eyes sparkle when you dance and sing along.

⭑ dean just thinks you’re the sweetest little thing. he constantly second guesses himself and wonders why you’re choosing to be with him. he thinks someone as beautiful and as pure as you deserves someone better than him.

⭑ dean noticed early on how you took a liking to certain things like colours, scents, textures. he goes out of his way to pick you little flowers that are your favourite colour or buy you candles with your favourite scent. he also took notice of things you didn’t like, and consequently keeps you from dealing with them— like sticky textures or the feeling of crumbs in his bed (he’s working on that, he swears.)

⭑ dean had to teach you about sleeping when he kept waking up to you sitting on the end of his bed, watching over him as he slept. what he doesn’t know is that most of the time you pretend to sleep. you’d never let him know, but you pretend simply because you enjoy being in his arms overnight. it’s the only time you get to see dean completely unguarded; his features relaxed and his face almost boyish.

⭑ sam watched dean fall in love with you without realising. after months, he had to finally tell dean to make a move. it almost blew dean’s mind when you reciprocated your feelings. he wasn’t used to the warm ‘n fuzzy feelings in his chest, but with you they became natural. a constant. and he wouldn’t have it any other way now.

⭑ dean considers you the light of his life. he’s always making jokes about you being heaven-sent for him. he’s completely enamoured and in love with his little birdie.

⭑ dean had to learn to be patient with how sensitive you can be. as an angel, you always assumed that people were more good than evil, so being on the receiving end of harsh words and treatment used to upset you greatly. dean labelled you a crybaby at the beginning, hating how you’d look so sad and pathetic with your tear-filled eyes. he never understood why your tears made his chest ache, but now he does, and he’s vowed to never make you cry again…. unless it’s out of pleasure that is.

⭑ sex was a tricky subject for you and dean initially. he was cautious and wanted to take things slow— he knew that mentally you were a virgin, so he wanted to be good to you. the first time you went all the way, he immediately knew that there was nobody else for him. the way you looked at him with such trusting soft wide eyes and the way you moaned out his name made his knees weak. he loves seeing your face all blissed out, your neck all marked up and your skin glistening from sweat. your soft little sighs of pleasure make him go truly crazy though.

⭑ you’re very sensitive to the feelings of people around you. dean’s emotions were no different. you saw how closed off he was when it came to his feelings and dealing with things. with gentle prodding and patient kindness, you’ve managed to get him to open up a little— granted it is still a work in progress, but he’s doing better. he trusts you.

⭑ you insist on doing weekly bodily scans for dean— and sam too. you just wanna make sure your boys are healthy. heaven knows how much damage dean’s poor liver takes. a little zip and it’s all better. dean says once a week is “a bit over the top”, but you disagree; you aren’t taking any chances when it comes to your love and his brother. you want them happy, healthy and safe.

⭑ dean loves when you just start rambling and info-dumping about whatever you’ve decided to learn about that day, even if it’s a subject he’s completely uninterested in; if you’re interested, then so is he. he has to stifle a laugh if you get a fact wrong or say something entirely untrue with full confidence. he always just nods along and when you’re done, it’s always “very good, my little lovebird.”

⭑ dean knows you don’t really understand the concept or reasoning of marriage— you’re an angel, why would you? but you’ve come to the conclusion that it’s worth it if it makes dean happy… and you’re not entirely opposed to becoming mrs. winchester or being bound to him officially.

A/N: are these too specific?? idk but dare i say angel!reader is neurodivergent coded??? i think yes!! anyways i’m lowkey sick as hell rn and this is poorly written ofc but enjoyyy <3

feedback and reblogs are welcome !!! <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4nicholas @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @atenea585 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @artyandink @emeraldcrs @freyabear @a1ecmcdowell @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @cosmicanakin @artemys-ackles @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added!

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 2

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI),smut, unrequited love, angst, reader gets hurt, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 5896

A/N: English is not my first language.

Dean hung out on the second floor with his new girlfriend while you and Sam watched TV. There were no audible voices. Well, you couldn't hear anything that far away, at least. You couldn't stop your mind from concentrating on them, even if you didn't want to. Your head hurt from the mix of the TV's sounds and the rain. Actually, the pain was in your soul.

You waited for regret to surface so you could condemn and despise yourself for opening yourself to Dean, your friend. But despite your best efforts, you were unable to sense remorse. You knew that you would do it again if you had a chance, taking back all that happened. How could you refuse him? You wished to memorize every moment of that night by being able to see every expression on his face. It was ridiculous that something so basic could no longer be made possible. The moments you spent with him are now only vague memories in your mind. All you could recall was the touch—his touch. It was still lingering on your skin. That would be enough.

It was clear to you from the way he laughed with her moments ago that the moment you had spent with him days before meant nothing. It was simply another hookup for Dean. Though you didn't think you'd reveal the truth from your side, you wondered what Sam would say about it. Sam was a good man, but you really weren't supposed to reveal to him that you slept with his brother since it would be too embarrassing. Additionally, you had given your virginity to his brother, whom you referred to as a "friend." There was no way you could tell him this.

You couldn't even recall the name of the show that was on TV. From time to time, Sam cracked up at the jokes. At least one person was feeling good. You looked at him attentively and observed that he had his attention on the show while he ate his popcorn.

He turned to face you, seeing your serious expression as he observed how you were reacting to the joke. In your arms, you held a pillow.

He said, “What's that look?”

“Seems like someone is enjoying, huh?”

“Why not? We all deserve a little relaxation after working so hard as hunters, don't you think?” He remarked, grinning, and turned down the TV. The instant the room was silent, you realized how much the noise had hurt your head. 

“Like your brother?” Compared to what you had anticipated, you sounded more serious. 

“Dean being Dean, you know.” Sam sighed and made a quick statement. Yes, you were aware of it. 

“How is your arm, by the way?” you said with a troubled look on your face. You've been feeling terrible for Sam because he kept you protected throughout the hunt and then ended up hurting himself. He was always considerate and cautious of you and Dean. It was in his nature. 

Sam smiled reassuringly and said, “It's fine. You know, things go wrong, and as long as you save the day, it's alright to get a little bit hurt.”

Stating, “I didn't want to get distracted that easily. I'm not sure what's wrong with me these days, but I promise I'll get better.” The claim that you were acting in this way without knowing why wasn't true. You were certainly aware of the exact cause of your growing distraction. 

If only Sam could read your mind and understand. Otherwise, there was no way for you to tell him straight what happened between you and Dean that night. You had any, yet deep down you needed to talk to someone. But you were very, really embarrassed. It's not like you were teens; you and Dean are grown ups. Reasonable ones, obviously. On the other hand, exposing your situation to him would be the same as declaring your love for him and would reveal your feelings for him.

“Really, Y/N, it's all right. What is done is done.” Sam looked at you, totally shutting off the TV. “Ignore what Dean said. You know how protective he is all the time. If you were the one who was harmed by me, he would say the same things. Though he may have come off as tougher, his intentions were good.”

"I'm afraid that's not true, Sammy. I mean, I know his intentions were good, of course, but I guess I touched his nerves this time for real.”

You attempted a smile, but it did not reach your lips before you realized Sam was trying to soothe you.

Sam replied awkwardly, “He cares way too much about the people he really cares about.” At these meaningless remarks, you both halted for a little period of time. “Well, it wasn't the best way to put it, but you get the idea. You might understand if you were raised by an older brother. He's not a bad person; there are just moments when I don't understand him.” 

“Of course not,” you cut him off right away. “You don't even have to say it. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying anything negative about him. I would never.”

“I know, I know...” Sam spoke quickly. “Still, I'm simply advising you not to think too much about what he said previously, all right? We've been hunting for more than a year; it's not that he doesn't like you. Remember that a year ago, it was he who offered the invitation for you to join that team?”

You ultimately nodded as Sam attempted to convince you that Dean didn't mean to hurt you. 

“Yes,” you murmured to yourself. “Considering how often you two sustain injuries, a nurse would be beneficial. I wonder if Dean was looking for a nurse for himself and his little brother, or if he was looking for someone with hunting abilities.”

“Let's say you're just talented enough to take a part in that very humble team,” Sam laughed. “And you're being a nurse is just another plus.” 

You sighed and then gave him a genuine smile, saying, “Fine, if you say so.” You had finally been somewhat diverted from your thoughts about Dean and his girlfriend by a brief conversation with Sam. 

Curious, you said, “How about you and Ruby, by the way? It seems that you two have become a very good couple, haven't you?”

“We're looking for something…to work out. But it's okay for now,” Sam remarked hesitantly. You found it amusing that he was so forthright about everything else than relationships. 

“You seem to be very much in love.” Not knowing how to present the matter to Dean without taking any suspicion, you offered an innocent glance to Sam. Sam was smart in every other way. Sometimes he observed and gazed at people as though he could see right through them. 

“She's like no one I've ever met,” Sam said timidly. “I think it will take some more time to work it out, but it's fine so far.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“How about you?”

You hesitantly replied, “What?” as he sent you one of his suspicious stares. 

“I've been thinking about lately and come to know... that it has been a year and I didn't even see you with anyone. That seems a little odd, don't you think?” Sam arched an eyebrow. “Are you not seeing anyone, or are you keeping it as a secret or something?”

You shifted on the seat and hugged the pillow against your arms a bit extra to help you unwind. In the end, he knew nothing about Dean or you. There was no reason to be anxious. It was only chitchat. 

“No, of course not!” You stopped him off before he started asking his questions. “It isn't... I'm not interested in anyone right now.”

“Really?” With a look of suspicion, Sam inquired. “We met other men throughout the cases, and they seemed to be interested in you. How can you tell whether you're interested in one of them if you don't give it a shot?”

“Sam, I don't like hookups. Something like that is not what I want.” However, you've turned into Dean's one hookup. The thought briefly ripped through your soul, given how little you've been talking recently, as if there were an unambiguous wall between you that you could not break down no matter how hard you tried.

“That's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to get the point that you should give people a chance to win you over. How in the world would you know if you liked someone or not without that?”

“I don't want to,” you interrupted, concentrating solely on Dean. It would be simpler to get Sam to understand you if you could tell him how you feel about Dean. 

Sam groaned and said, “Fine. It was just an advice.” 

“I know, thanks,” you responded, putting on a timid grin. “Will you continue to watch TV for a while? It's growing late.”

Sam said, “I think I will,” as he looked at his watch. “Are you leaving?” 

You said quietly, “Yeah,” as you peered out the window to see the weather. It was pouring. You would have hated sunny days even more if you had gotten intimate with Dean on a sunny day. Rainy weather used to be something you enjoyed, but now it just hurt.

“I think it's better if you stay though,” Sam said, taking a deep breath and using one of his fingers to show you the pouring rain. “You're not the best driver.”

With a harsh tone, you said, suddenly tossing the pillow over his face. “Did you just insult me?”

“That's not insulting,” Sam shot it back at you. “I'm just saying that you're no Hamilton.”

You said, “You have no idea,” and you couldn't help but smile as you recalled the day Dean forbade you from driving on rainy days after you nearly had an accident. Dean continued to get anxious when it started to rain while you were driving because of that day. His Baby was more important than anything. 

“Will you be watching TV or?” Taking back the remote control, Sam asked. 

“No, thanks; enjoy yourself.” Setting the pillow down next to the coach and stretching your arms, you yawned. 

You couldn't help but notice the agonizing heavy feeling in your chest as it began to flare up again like tiny needles as you made your way upstairs. Even though you didn't want to hear anything, you were listening for any sounds coming from Dean's room. As you passed, your movements almost seemed to slow down, but you quickly realized what was going on, and you entered the dark room where you would be spending the night, as if your brain didn't want to hear anything.

You had been repeatedly asked to leave the same house by Dean and Sam and start to live with them, but for whatever reason you were unaware of, you had refused. If they repeated the offer, you would most likely take it immediately. God, even if you just lived in the same house, you would probably fall even more in love with Dean. During hunts, it was even sufficient to see him for a few hours. Your heart ached to think about his face, his grin, and every joke he ever told.

Has the night some weeks ago caused you to ruin what you had? You didn't feel any regret, but as you noticed that Dean was becoming more aloof, regret started to consume you.

You'd just gotten out of the shower when your hands found one of Dean's t-shirts. You desired to wear it like you had some weeks prior. Back then, it wasn't a big deal; instead of complaining, he would just make jokes about how little and amusing you looked in them. But things were different today, and you knew it wouldn't be proper to wear it while he had a girlfriend.

If he truly had affections for someone, you didn't want to spoil things for him.

They laughed a little too loudly as you lay down on the bed and pressed his t-shirt against your chest as if it would bring him further closer. Dean's laughter mixed with Jo's. You tried, devastated, to focus on the soothing sounds of the falling rain and on the absurd or hazardous situations that had transpired during the hunts. It was useless. 

That was the moment you became aware of how really alone you were. Perhaps Sam was correct about telling you to pursue a romantic connection. However, how could it be possible when you were already deeply in love with someone? Anytime Dean was around, your heart felt like it was going to explode. You had no idea how to handle things like that. 

You set his shirt down and let it fall to the ground, acting as if doing so could shield you from the overwhelming feelings that Dean had given you. God, how could you possibly let go of your feelings for him when you couldn't even let go of a single piece of fabric with ease? 

You were so miserable and pathetic that you were unable to stop crying this time. You dreamed of something you could never have as the tears flowed down your cheeks and onto the bed. You will always cherish the beautiful memory the night gave you, but at what cost?

You were sobbing, but you weren't sure if it was from the noises Dean and Jo were making or from the dreams that could only have come true in your head. 

Your impulse to pick up Dean's t-shirt from the floor gradually vanished as your tears dropped to the bed and the pain consumed your entire being. Until today, you had no idea how much you actually loved him. 

“What happened?” With a big smile on her face, Jo placed her fingers around Dean's face and inquired in between laughter. She teased this thick neck with a quick, playful kiss. On his lap, she became still. 

Dean's fingers raised her skirt and were ready to push her underwear aside. Jo continued moving on Dean's lap, making herself wetter by rubbing herself over Dean's boxer, her hands lingering on his wide and bare chest with desire. 

“Nothing,” a rough-voiced Dean said. From the room where you were staying, he thought he heard something. He had heard you took the upstairs before he'd gone to the bathroom. You most likely made the decision to stay since it was pouring rain outside. You definitely didn't know how to drive in such conditions. He shuddered, remembering when you nearly crushed his baby and sent it to his sweet vehicle burial. 

Jo touched Dean's naked chest and paused her palm at his abs, saying, “You seem to be like thinking something else.”

“I wasn't,” Dean lied. It was not significant at all, so there was no need to provide details.

“I was just thinking though,” Jo said, attempting to find the right words to say. 

“About?”

“I think we'd be a great team, you know.” With a sly smile, Jo continued to stroke Dean's abs with the tips of her fingers. “As you are aware, Sam, you, and I would make an excellent team since we are now somewhat of a family, since I am also a hunter. Do you not think?”

Dean moved slightly on the bed, thinking of you, irritated at Jo's disregard for you, as if the details weren't even important. You were a member of the team. He was the one who initially made the offer to you in fact. Besides, they weren't even paired up. He said nothing about it so as not to hurt her feelings or make her feel humiliated if she brought it up. 

“How about Y/N?” In an attempt to lighten the mood and soften the air, Dean attempted to smile at her, but his smile did not reach his lips.

“She's a nurse,” Jo said, as if it were an insult. Dean felt uncomfortable and uneasy because Jo was attempting to push out the details of what she truly wanted to say about you. Despite her best efforts to seem polite, she came out as cunning and bitter. That was something Dean did not appreciate. 

“So?” Dean arched an eyebrow in questioning. “She is the only one still alive due to the terrible things that went wrong; her family was full of hunters just like ours. She doesn't even need to, yet she still has passion. That's very encouraging, in my opinion. I mean, continuing to work in the family business while also doing her professional job responsibilities. That requires guts.”

“Are you defending her?”

“I am,” Dean said in a firm and harsh manner. Jo was still on top of him, trying to get him to say nasty things about you, and he didn't enjoy her attempts at distracting him with handiwork. Dean felt unease and a strong sense of aggressiveness.

He never explicitly expressed his admiration for you for persevering through everything and for having the guts to face your fears. Jo recognized how much he genuinely admired you in his heart when he explained how excellent you were at what you did. Even though you occasionally were easily sidetracked, you were a professional.

Jo sighed, but she didn't give a damn about Dean's opinion of you. In the end, you posed no threat. For nothing at all. 

“I don't think your dad raised you and Sam for doing some charity to the orphan hunters and helping them to find a belonging,” Jo said. Although she made an effort not to seem cruel, it was the reality for her. “I am aware of the danger she took for Sam when you all were hunting last time. It is a weakness to be easily sidetracked in this.”

Dean's eyes grew enraged as Jo carried on speaking in a sinuous manner. She was aware of his dislike of others discussing the persons they cared about in this way. Particularly about the people he respected and gave enough thought to. 

Dean whispered, “Jo,” but it seemed more like he was threatening her. “Stop this fucking nonsense now. I'm serious.” 

“Do you have a soft spot for her or something?” Jo inquired once again. She also bit her lips invitingly while gently raising her skirt to reveal her pussy to Dean's gaze in an attempt to divert his focus elsewhere.

Her eyes were full of promise. In particular, Dean found it amusing when ladies looked at him with such passion. 

Dean immediately felt a sense of relaxation as his hands moved to her hips. He sighed and refused to answer. “Are we just going to talk?” he asked. She began removing her clothes rapidly while he licked his lips and observed. 

“Hopefully not,” Jo laughed in response. She was relieved that she and Dean had stopped talking about you. “Let our bodies talk in their very own, divine language.”

Dean switched the positions before she could say anything more. Now that he was on top of Jo, he was urgently kissing her while his mind was racing with ideas he wanted to put down for the night. 

Dean roughly spread Jo's legs wider and pulled her underwear aside, freeing himself from his boxer. With a single forceful shove that caused them both to moan loudly, he gave his firm cock a few strokes and pushed himself in Jo beforehand. That was an excellent way to get some real comfort now. 

Jo hadn't kept it low at all, so Dean put his hands on her mouth to silence her, causing her to sigh into his hands without intending to wake anyone. He picked up his speed and began to push into her rough and fast enough to satisfy both of them, knowing that she enjoyed being fucked raw and fast and that Dean also wanted to find his release. 

While he continued to fuck her, Dean warned her to "keep it low," suppressing his own groans.

She was, however, loudly groaning in Dean's hands, locking her legs around his hips, matching his speed as she raised her hips, as if she wanted everyone to know that she was getting fucked by Dean. Dean warned her to turn down the volume once more, but it didn't help.

In an attempt to find his release, Dean thrust into her more quickly, giving the impression that he was being forced to come—as if this were a mission or one of his hunts. He was striving to find his pleasure when he felt nervousness take over his body. He wasn't accustomed to feeling this way, especially around women.

His other hand tightened on Jo's tits, and he ran his fingers through her ass to help himself. His movements were forceful and impatient. All he wanted was for her to be somewhat silent so that he could focus more easily. It wasn't like Dean liked to be all crazy harsh on ladies or anything; he just needed to experience the closeness of a true, sincere touch, which was difficult to find at the moment.

He was on the verge of getting there, but he was unable to seize the ideal moment of pleasure and find relief.

Though it wasn't appropriate to think about it right now, Dean's thoughts began to form around the moment he and you had shared weeks earlier as he continued to stroke his hardness into Jo's warm pussy while muttering under his breath. It was as though his body had a mind of its own and knew when it was best for him to get what he was looking for.

His thoughts were hopelessly consumed by the sensation of your tightness and those moments of adorable small sounds that you attempted to hide from him. Dean attempted to concentrate on the woman who he was actually fucking into, not feeling proud of how he thought about you while he fucked Jo into the covers. Thinking about how he fucked you wasn't fair to no one at all. But his own body, which was attempting to steal what it desired by using Jo's body, was not under his control.

Him fucking Jo was becoming a battle between Dean's body and mind. Pleasure and reason; soul and mind.

Jo began to quiver instead of groan loudly, and as Dean withdrew his fingers from her lips, she cried out, “Will you come inside?” 

Dean instantly said, “No,” realizing that he hadn't been wearing a condom throughout his frantic sex with her. “Stay still.”

With a hint of rage, Dean sank his fingers into Jo's flesh and his head into her sweating neck, fiercely shutting his eyes. He was going insane as he struggled with his own thoughts, which were attempting to recall every little detail about your body and how you responded and tightened around his member. He didn't want to go back in time mentally and get pleasure thinking about the night with you while he was inside someone else. It wasn't fair for any. 

It was just an impulse decision made in the heat of the moment. Still, Dean's mind continued seeing the body underneath him to be yours, making him picture every single detail of how he took you and how you immediately clenched around him the moment he entered you. He was taken aback by how tight you were; you were like anyone he had ever fucked. 

As the fantasies overtook his thoughts, Dean became aware of his surroundings as Jo began to speak dirty to him, telling him how much she enjoyed it when he gave her such an aggressive fuck. Dean wasn't aware of himself till now that he started to fuck into her pussy quicker and harder.

Dean's body tensed as his eyes opened. He was pushing his cock in and out of Jo without intending to get off as he thought about you. He was a little caught by what had transpired in a split second. 

Jo gasped and said, “Why did you stop?” To regain his attention, she raised her hips higher. 

“Nothing,” Dean said, losing his temper and collapsing to his side as he felt his cock gradually soften. 

Jo was bewildered, but she became enraged when Dean abruptly quit fucking her and left her feeling unsatisfied. 

She sighed and said, “You want me to get on top?” although she sounded more like she was frustrated. 

“No.”

“What the hell is your problem?” she said, nailing Dean's chest. “Come on-”

“I said, 'no.' Alright?” In an attempt to disassociate himself from Jo, Dean stated. Even though he knew it was just about him, he tried to keep his cool down despite feeling like rage was taking him.

When she realized Dean wasn't in the mood and was most likely experiencing some sort of dysfunctional erection, she simply remarked, “Anyways,” without caring about it at all. “I promised to go out with some friends tonight, you know,” she said, putting on her clothes again.

“Alright. It's pouring outside though.”

“Yeah, and?”

With a sigh, Dean said, “Nevermind,” understanding that you were the only on who found driving in such weather difficult.

Dean quickly showered right after Jo departed the house, then jerked off just after he entered the bathroom. Even if things started to seem strange with Jo, his body still wanted some release to ease the tension. He was horny and furious at the same time. Though he was a man of action and he wasn't the biggest fan of taking himself in hand in the shower like a teenager, it worked this time. It felt good enough.

Dean gasped in frustration, picturing your gentle touches and the way he felt within you while he fucked Jo and how he thought about you while. The easiest way for him to regain control of his body was to stop. That was all—him and you were simply pals who took pleasure from each other for one night. You were lovely, so it wasn't that he wouldn't want to fuck you again, but it would just be weird. That was not Dean's type of thing. 

With one arm folded behind his head, Dean lay on the bed and tried not to think too much. Perhaps he was simply too exhausted.

Even though you were exhausted, your body woke up in the middle of the night due to a headache and a dry throat. You walked silently downstairs to the kitchen so as not to wake Sam, Dean, or his girlfriend. 

You cursed yourself for being so emotional and sensitive, crying your eyes out till you went to sleep. Perhaps you were about to have your monthly period very soon. You were forced to put on your headphones by Dean and his companion in order to block out the noises they created all night.

What a waste, you thought. Believing that once you committed yourself to Dean, things would improve between you two. The situation became worse because of it. There was now such a strong and lengthy barrier between you that, despite your best attempts to remain composed, you were unable to climb it at all without being exhausted. If you were more courageous than this, you would have let everything pass by, turned your back to the team, and concentrated on your actual work. 

After turning on the light and rubbing your swollen eyes, you sipped your water and sat down next to the window. You couldn't even get enough sleep, and you had to work all day. You required a long vacation. 

As soon as you placed the glass down on the kitchen sink, you turned around and saw Dean staring back at you. He was half nude, wearing just sweatpants; his broad chest was all naked. You jumped and gasped in fear because you didn't hear him approaching. 

Dean seemed a little confused for a moment when he saw your ruined hair and swollen eyes, but he said nothing. 

He stated, “You're so jumpy,” in a low voice as if another person may hear them. 

You paused in front of Dean and said, "I didn't hear you coming," but all you did was stand there and remain still, your heart racing. 

Ignoring him and returning to your room was difficult. Though your soul ached and yearned for more time with him, your mind knew that nothing would happen between you.

“Why are you still awake?”

You suddenly snapped, “Why are you questioning me?” but then you added, “I was thirsty.”

He said, “It makes us two,” and grabbed a glass of water for himself.

Can't help but notice how you looked, he remarked, “Your eyes appear somewhat swollen.” He couldn't help making a comment this time, a sense of concern overwhelming him.

Trying to sound convincing enough, you said in a hushed voice, “I just woke up. Couldn’t sleep properly.”

“You're going to work tomorrow, aren't you?” Dean inquired as if attempting to strike up a conversation after such a lengthy period. You haven't been speaking properly recently for the obvious reason. 

You answered, “Um, yeah,” and lightly stroked your hand to see whether it hurt. It no longer did. Thank goodness you weren't seriously injured. You've also taken plenty of time off from work. It would be best if you started working right away to take your mind off of Dean and all that was going on. There was a lot to take in. 

“But can you work though? Is your hand okay, by the way?”

“Yes, I suppose there's nothing to worry about. It's stopped hurting. Actually, I missed my job. It's been too long since I took a break.”

You took a deep breath and went to head back to your room, saying a quiet, "Good night," but Dean stopped you by grasping your arm after he finished his drink. “Wait,” he quietly whispered. 

He released his hold on you and gently caressed your skin in an attempt to apologize for being a little too harsh on you. You turned to face him, perplexed. “Yes?” you said as you awaited his next words. 

He seemed unable to find the right words to say, so he said, “Whatever happened during the hunting... It wasn't just your fault.” The moment he brought that case back, your heart pounded. 

You took a deep breath to keep yourself from being upset as you thought back to what he had said to you, his hurtful remarks, and how annoyed Dean was as a result of your distraction. 

You managed to stutter, “It's okay,” and try to smile sympathetically at him. “You are right in every way. I should have exercised more caution. After all, he's your brother.”

“No, I'm not right about everything.” Dean took a deep breath and held your still-healing hand. “I was responsible as much as you were. After all, I am the team's oldest member.” He attempted to lighten the situation with a smile, but for some reason neither of you felt like it. 

Dead had told you, just to your face, that Sam was extremely important to him, as if you had someone in your life to worry about. He hated himself for not being more compassionate after realizing he was simply being harsh.

“It was just... in the heat of the moment,” Dean made an effort to explain his behavior. But the way your eyes met, it seemed like he meant something very different.

“I know."

“I only wanted you to be more cautious; I didn't want to hurt you.” He looked into your reddened eyes and added, “Not just for me or Sam, but especially for your own good,” with such genuineness that it seemed he could see what a wreck you were on the inside. How messy you were.

“You did not hurt me at all. I will proceed with greater caution, as I had said previously.” You let his hands lightly brush across yours. Your heart had melted at such a simple, one-time gesture. Though you knew you couldn't, your body was aching to get closer to him. 

He finally released your hand after a little while. However, if he hadn't taken it in the first place, it would have hurt less. 

You hoped with all of your heart that this moment in the kitchen with Dean had gone differently. You wanted to be closer, cuddling, laughing, or doing anything else that would be tender and intimate. But you two were farther apart than before. Your eyes would have said everything about how much you wanted him if they could communicate.

“I honestly didn't intend any of the things I said to you before or later. I want you to understand this.”

“I do, Dean.”

Dean said, “I know things are a little awkward between us, but I don't want it to be like this,” before you could say anything more. “I hope that you continue to feel at ease with me. I suppose we haven't discussed it appropriately so far about this.”

Your cheeks suddenly flushed scarlet at the mention of your circumstance, and fear shot through your veins “It's really okay,” you nodded to him and replied in a hurry. “Everything's alright.” 

You felt burdened with the thought that he could be concerned that you might tell Jo. Should that be his worry, you might reassure and soothe him. In a whisper, you said, “I wouldn't...tell Jo.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, then scowled instead. His expression showed signs of uncertainty. Given how often they had been hooking up only, he wasn't really sure if he and Jo were a thing at all. 

He felt a little guilty as well as responsible for initiating the kiss that night since he was aware it was him. 

“You know, I don't want you to feel awkward. Don't let anything go to waste or let this ruin what we have.”

Your heart raced with hopelessness again as Dean blatantly said that he wanted nothing to change and that you should move on from the past. At this point, you couldn't tell if he was genuinely unaware of your emotions. It was better if he hadn't even opened his mouth in the first place and stayed silent. 

Since you believed you were trying your best to keep things calm between you and him and maintain whatever relationship you had with him, you wanted to ask him if there was anything you could have done to make him feel that way about you or did you make him feel uncomfortable around you. It wasn't like you were still holding out hope. You were not anticipating this any longer.

Despite his repeated promises not to hurt you, he continued to do so without even realizing it.

You nodded to him quickly and answered, “Of course, I don't want this either,” with a heavy heart. “I would not want to ruin.”

You gave him a little smile and a mumble of "good night," then turned back toward your room. You would have found the strength to cry a little bit more if your eyes weren't sore from crying so much hours before. But at that moment, all you wanted to do was sleep, without really considering anything.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Please, let me know what you think about this one. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ^^

Taglist: @procrastination20 @faiirynyaa @deangirl96 @steelthespooder @t1asstuff @slut-for-evans-stan @esposamultifandom @rebecca-hvnstn @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @filmologetica @n-o-p-e-never

@midnightpearlaurora @mango-munchies @zaratahir @sammyxorae @opheliadynah @spxideyver

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

Sam Winchester, Hero

-warnings// angst, fluff, SMUT, MENTION OF SA!!

-lil summery// kind of my spin on the pilot episode, based when Sam’s in college, best friends to lovers trope

Sam x reader

Part 2

word count// 3330

(Gif from Pinterest)

Your eyes burned as you continued to read the same line over and over, exhaustion threatening to take over your body any minute "hey you okay?" You looked towards the soft voice to see your best friend Sam, you nodded "yeah I'm just trying to finish this chapter I can't hand in another late assignment" you said stretching your limbs trying to wake yourself up 

Sam chuckled "it's after midnight, you’re gonna end up face down on your desk if you don't get to bed soon" you rolled your tired eyes playfully "I’ll be fine I'll just be another half hour then I'm done, you head on home, I'll be right behind you" Sam shook his head "not a chance this place isn't safe at night I'll wait for you" he said going to sit next to you "Sam sweetie, I'll be fine, our apartment is a ten minute walk at most, plus you know I can handle myself, I've kicked your ass plenty of times" you joked making him smile 

"Alright but I want you to knock on my door when your back home so I know your home safe, I'm giving you forty five minutes and if ur not home by then I'll be back here to haul your  ass home" he said firmly, he was always the worrier, that's what you loved about him the most

"I promise, scouts honour" you promised him with the scouts symbol he chuckled as he moved toward the door "see you at home Y/N" he called as the doors closed leaving you alone in the library, You rubbed your tired red eyes and got back to work, your blinking getting slower until all you could see was darkness and a warm fuzzy feeling take over your body.

Almost an hour later you awoke with a start "oh son of a bitch!" You exclaimed quietly looking at your watch, in a panic you shoved your stuff in your bag quickly before running out the big mahogany doors and taking off in a speed walk down the dark campus towards you and Sam's apartment, hoping he hadn't left yet

You were moments away from sanctuary before you heard the sound of loud foot steps behind you, your heart plummeting to your stomach as you picked up your own pace, you were less than a minute away, the footsteps got closer and your heart was beating a hundred beats per minute

The person behind you grabbed your arm roughly turning you around to face a tall brute of a man, glaring at you his lips twisted in a dirty smile "where you heading beautiful?" He asked his grip on your arm tightening making you wince "none of your business now get your damn hand off me you jackass!" You exclaimed trying to pull your arm away 

"Watch yourself now... the nicer you are to me the better I'll make you feel" the man said licking his greasy lips, your stomach turned and you regretted not leaving with Sam earlier. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight him off "if you touch me I swear I'll-" you started to say before a loud laugh cut you off "you'll what baby? Look at me then look at you, who's got the upper hand here?" he mocked before a third voice interrupted him 

"I do!" The voice said and a fist was slamming against your attackers face knocking the brute out, screaming you turned to see your saviour as the tears streamed down you face, you saw Sam looking back at you concern written all over his face "c'mon let's go" he said quickly taking your bag from you and pulling you tightly to his side making your worries instantly vanish as you cuddled into him 

Sam unlocked the door with his free hand, never letting go of you, he locked the door instantly as soon as you stepped inside "are you okay? I knew I shouldn't have fucking left" Sam told you his voice cracking slightly as his hands cradled your face in them as his green eyes scanned for any visible injuries.

"I'm okay Sammy" you assured him but he shook his head, his shaggy hair bouncing as he did "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner, I shouldn't have left you by yourself it's not safe i-" "SAM!" You yelled cutting his rambling off, his eyes snapping down to meet yours "I'm okay, I promise, you got me before he could do anything" you promised him, brushing a stray strand of shaggy brown hair behind his ear

He closed his eyes tightly and sighed loudly, his shoulders remaining as tense as ever, he wrapped his strong arms tightly around you, holding you tightly to him

You rest your head against his hard chest, listening to his heart beating like crazy as he breathed in your scent "are you okay sweetie?" You questioned looking up at him

Sam nodded slowly "I'm doing everything I can right now to stop myself from killing that perverted bastard" Sam confessed, his voice low and serious, you chuckled quietly "Sammy your the sweetest guy I've ever met, you don't have killer instincts in you" 

Sam swallowed thickly... little did you know who he really was, how many monsters he'd killed since he learned to walk "...yeah your probably right, come on let's get some sleep" Sam said changing the subject quickly

You stepped away from the his warm comforting embrace nodding your head, a quiet quiver threatening to leave your lips  "night Sammy" you leaned up to kiss his cheek before retreating to your bedroom.

You shivered as you walked into your dark bedroom, you pulled on an oversized shirt kicked off your jeans before getting into you bed, your whole body shook as you lay, the events of the night finally setting in your head

You let the hot tears fall slowly down your face as you fell asleep. 

You awoke a while later, you heart beating like crazy, your face stung as tears, new and fresh stuck to your cheeks, you tried catching your breath before making your way quickly to your bedroom door and down the hall to your best friends room

You knocked lightly on the door but there was no response other than the small snores on the other side, you questioned if you should just suck it up and go back to your own room but you knew you couldn't, not alone 

Taking a deep shaky breath you opened the door tip toeing towards the sleeping giant, "Sammy?" You whispered in a strained voice, "...Y/N... w-what's going on? Everything okay?" Sam quickly shot up suddenly as though he was wide awake. You tried to control your breathing before replying "y-yeah I uh, I-" you struggled to get out before you broke completely, your whole body shaking as more tears streamed down your swollen face

Sam was instantly pulling you down to sit next to him on his bed, pulling your shaking body tightly into his warm embrace, his muscular arms wrapping around you waist as you lay your head in the crook of his neck, "hey it's okay just breath" he said gently trolling your hair from your face "what happened?" He asked quietly stroking your wet hair behind your ear 

You took a deep shaky breath leaning into his touch "I- I just had a bad dream and I didn't want to be alone, can I stay with you, please?" You begged Sam, your heart racing like crazy, Sam's cheeks flushed a deep red as he nodded his head almost immediately "of course you can, you know you can always come to me no matter what" You smiled squeezing his hand tightly as a silent thank you.

Sam stayed in that position for another while longer, just holding you tightly to him as you slowly regained your breathing and the tears stopped rolling, "you ready to lay down?" Sam asked rubbing his hand up and down your cold arms nodding you move to his side, slowly lowering your self to rest against the cold unused pillow in Sam's bed, Sam turned to face you in the bed,

His hand once again reaching out for your own "I promise your safe here, I would never in a million years let anyone or anything hurt you" Sam assured you making your heart swell, "I know sweetie,  your like my very own superhero" you told him making his lips pull into his familiar grin "night gorgeous" Sam said giving your small hand another light squeeze "night Sammy" you whispered back.

You lay there another few minutes just staring into the dark room, this was different than how you felt earlier in your own bed, you felt safe... you just couldn't trust your mind enough to sleep

You turned to your side to face Sam, his eyes already on you "I can't sleep" you whispered lowly to him your faces inches apart as Sam moved closer his arm moving to wrap around your waist as his green eyes stared into yours "it'll be okay, I'm right here next to you" Sam promised making you smile up at him 

Your hand cupped the side of Sam's face gently as you moved closer, just testing the waters, letting him have time to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn't.

Sam closed the small gap between your lips quickly capturing you lips with his, you let out a small gasp as your hand flew to grip the back of his neck lightly, his own gripping your waist pulling you as close as possible to him, you let out a quiet moan as Sam moved you to lay on your back, his body rolling to hover above you 

You wrapped you legs tightly around Sam's hips pulling him down so that his covered cock was pressing against your clothed clit, "oh god Sammy" you breathed out pulling his hair slightly 

Sam moved his kisses down your neck causing your eyes to roll "Sam please" you begged tightening your legs around his hips, sam obeyed as he pulled back slightly to pull his grey shirt and off revealing his muscular chest, you ran your hand down from his toned chest down to his pyjama pants, you swallowed the thick lump of nerves in your throat "Y/N, we don't have to do this" Sam told you sensing your nerves 

You shook your head and smiled up at him "I want to do this, with you" you told him as you gently pulled him back down for a kiss, he smirked into the kiss, his hands moving to the hem of your oversized shirt you'd stolen from Sam many moons ago, he pulled the shirt off your body, revealing your bare breasts to him, he instantly grasped them in his warm hands

You let out a small moan of his name, arching your back from the bed "please touch me" you begged, sam chuckled and kissed his was down your chest taking each breast in his hot mouth before continuing his way down your stomach, he dragged your panties down off your legs, gasping at the cold air hitting your core you move to clench your thighs together

Sam's hands caught your thighs quickly, spreading them wider exposing you completely to him "you look so beautiful like this" Sam said his eyes a darker green, bordering a light brown, Sam blew cold air against your soaking pussy before diving in, you screamed in pleasure your hand rushing to gripe Sam's longer hair, "oh god Sammy! Please don't stop that feels so fucking good" you cried out as Sam sucked hour clit into his mouth and inserting his two long fingers inside your dripping hole "you taste fucking delicious Y/N I could stay between these legs all damn day if you let me" Sam said against your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice and combination of his thrusting fingers causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head "I'm so close Sammy please!" You screamed in pleasure slamming your head back against the pillow behind you as Sam sped up his movements, all that could be heard in the room was heavy breaths and the sounds of Sam's mouth and fingers working you toward your orgasm

You cried out in ecstasy, Sam's long fingers curled inside of you hitting your g-spot repeatedly his lips wrapping around your clit stimulating you completely, you screamed Sam's name as the coil snapped, your orgasm came crashing towards you causing your body to shake slightly, sam carried you through it, not stopping until you gently pushed him away from you, you legs around his shoulders shaking "that was the hottest fucking thing in the world, I've never had a guy do that to me before" you breathed out, still trying to catch your breath

Sam chuckled giving you lips a small kiss "well you have only dated jackasses who clearly have no idea how to please their girls, if I had it my way I'd have you tied to the bed with me down there all damn night" Sam confessed making your heart pound, you looked at him threw half lidded eyes a smirk playing on your lips "I'm not opposed to getting tied up sometime" you said making sam groan loudly as you pulled him into another deep kiss, your hand snuck it's way into his pants and wrapped around his hard cock, you started to move your hand in an up and down motion before Sam quickly grabbed your wrist stopping you

Your eyes snapped to his in a panic and your heart raced in panic, "What's wrong?" You questioned quickly and Sam smiled "nothing it's just… I'd rather be inside you gorgeous" Sam told you and he kicked the rest of his pants off leaving his big hard cock on full display making your mouth water "do you have a condom?" You struggled to ask as your mouth was suddenly dry

Sam nodded, hovering over your bare body to reach into his nightstand, he quickly pulled out a familiar foil package, he ripped it open quickly with his teeth and rolled it onto his erect member "are you sure your okay with this?" Sam, ever the gentleman asked you, his hands ran up and down your waist in a comforting way making you smile  "of course I am Sammy" you confessed wrapping your legs tightly around his hips and pulling him down to you so he was chest to chest to you

Sam leaned down to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, not rushed or hard like the other kisses, you felt him place his covered tip at your entrance, your pussy clenching in desperation to feel him inside you,

Your moan caught in your throat as Sam pushed his way inside you, filling you up, inch by inch

Sam sucked in a harsh breath, his lips moving to attach to your neck "god Y/N your so fucking tight, can already feel you squeezing me" he groaned out hotly against your neck, you giggled softly as your hands ran up Sam's muscled back, he began to move his hips slowly to rest the waters, there was a slight pain but nothing could take away from the pleasure of having Sam so close to you like this "faster Sammy please" you told him arching against him to allow him to push inside you deeper, Sam obeyed and grabbed your thighs, he pushed them up so you knees were against your chest, your calves hanging over his broad shoulders

Sam pulled his hips almost all the way back before slamming back inside you making you scream in pleasure

He continued to slam his cock deep inside you at a fast pace, hitting your G-spot with every thrust his pelvic bone pressing against you swollen clit adding just the right amount of pleasure "yes!" You screamed dragging your nails down Sam's back as white hot pleasure clouded your vision, you knew your orgasm was fast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened "cum with me baby" you moaned out, Sam quickened his movements feeling his own orgasm crash against him, he moved his hand down to rub your clit quickly causing the band in your stomach to snap, you screamed Sam's name as your juices came flowing out of you, down Sam's thighs as Sam groaned feeling the condom fill with his hot seed 

Sam continued to thrust a few more times slowly to calm you both downs, whimpering when he pulled out you gave him a gentle kiss on his now swollen lips "that was amazing" you said once you pulled away causing Sam to chuckle, he threw the used condom in his trash can "yeah that was the best sex I've ever had" Sam confessed making your heart race and your cheeks turn pink when you giggled “yeah me too”

Sam pushed a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes staring into your own with intensity “I really like you Y/N, your my best friend.. I mean I know we just crossed the line of just friends but I want you, I mean, I want this, not just sex.. I mean I want you.. all of you” Sam confessed before kissing you quickly to solidify his words 

Your heart pounded against your chest as you listened to Sam’s confession, “I want that to Sammy” you said placing your hands on either side of his face, leaning in to peck his kiss swollen lips a couple of times until the smiles on both your lips made it impossible to keep going “so how about tomorrow after your last class we head down the Chinese place for dinner and we can rent a movie to take back home?” Sam asked you nervously “I’d love that” you told him before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed again, this time in the safe protective arms of your boyfriend.

A couple of hours later you awoke to voices in the kitchen, panic rose in your chest before you turned to wake Sam, surprised when all that was in his spot was cold sheets, you furrowed you brows before getting up, you quickly pulled on your over side shirt and panties before stalking towards the kitchen where your boyfriend and another man were talking  “sam?” You called for him making his head snap towards you “Y/N hey what you doing out of bed?” Sam questioned placing his hand on your arm 

You opened your mouth to answer before the other man moved towards you a big flirty smile graced his lips “wow you are so far out of my brothers league” the man said making sam roll his eyes “oh your Dean! Sam’s told me a lot about you” you said making him chuckle “all good I hope” he said before turning his attention back to your boyfriend before staring at you again “listen sweetheart, I gotta talk to your boyfriend here about some family business would you mind giving us a minute?” He asked trying to be as nice as possible “of course I’ll just-” you were cut off by Sam’s big arm wrapping tightly around yours waist pulling you tightly to his side “no, anything you can say to me, you can say in front of Y/N” Sam told him his chest puffed out in anger 

Dean clapped his hands together in frustration “fine, dad hasn’t been home in a couple days” Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically once again “yeah, he’ll come stumbling back on in soon enough, just like he always does!” Sam said annoyed, his muscled arm around your waist tightening as Dean sighed lowly 

 “alright, dads on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days”. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

For my Sam girlies!

[losers-clvb]

famine // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x best friend!female!reader

summary: you and the winchester boys went to go look into a case on a couple mysteriously eating themselves to death. after discovering this is brought on by one of the four horsemen, famine, coming into town, dean and sam create a plan. the only problem: you've been whimpering at the sound of sam's voice since that morning.

content: basically just porn with small amount of plot, slightly dom!sam (not insanely so, just a few words), praise, reader begs sam to fuck her, fingering, unprotected piv penetration, sex pollen adjacent storyline, dubcon (due to said "sex pollen"), dean and castiel walk in on the pair after they're finished, no use of y/n

word count: 3k

note: this is based on season 5, episode 14 "my bloody valentine". i wrote this all in a day, so unedited, but i watched that episode and the idea just came to me. this was my first time writing smut so be kind if it isn't the best. second part of "mayor's banquet" coming out soon, which also has smut, if you are into that. enjoy!

masterlist

----

It started slowly. At first it was discomfort, one that left you wiggling in your jeans. You felt hot and no amount of air conditioning was helping. You moved in your seat as Dean drove through the small time. The three of you had arrived that morning, opting to eat at the local diner before investigating what was going on. A couple had eaten each other to death the night before which threw up alarm bells for the hunters. You were Sam’s best friend, a relationship that had begun in college. It wasn’t until you had an encounter with a werewolf four months after Sam left that you decided to join the boys on their hunts.

“You gotta take a piss or something?” Dean asked after he had noticed you were moving around in the backseat. You blushed when you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Leave her alone, Dean.” Sam smacked his brother playfully. You were grateful for this, as you always were for Sam. Coincidentally after he spoke, the need to move increased. You squeezed your eyes shut and breathed deeply.

You were contemplating asking Dean to pull over when the car stopped. You opened your eyes to find the motel you three would be staying in that night. Dean was already opening the door to the room, but Sam stood in front of your open door with his hand held out, ever the gentleman. You grasped his hand in yours and an actual whimper hummed in your throat. It was like your senses were heightened and Sam was the key to making it all better. Sam looked at you with his head cocked to the side.

“You alright?” He asked as you climbed out of the car. Oh God, his mouth, the way his lips moved when he talked, you wanted them on you, every part of you.

“Yeah.” You whispered, clenching your other hand in a fist. You shouldn’t be thinking of your best friend in that way. At least, not when he was leading you into your shared motel room with his brother. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, late at night, with your hand between your legs. You had walked in on Sam with Jessica once, back in the first few months of college. And God did that image give you something to think about. You mostly thought about how easily Sam could pin you on the bed, kiss and suck his way down your body until he reached your core, right where you needed him most. The idea of him devouring you like a starved animal, hands wrapped around your thighs, tongue-

“God, Cass, I thought you didn’t need to eat!” Dean exclaimed as the angel took another bite of his burger. Somehow you had missed entering the room and Castiel appearing inside. You let go of Sam’s hand and beelined to the bathroom. You shut the door and locked it, but not before hearing Dean gloat about how his earlier question had been correct.

You looked in the mirror and analyzed your blown pupils. You scoffed at yourself, splashing cold water onto your face. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? You had more self control than this. It didn’t make sense. You were fine this morning, yet now you were ready to grind yourself down on the edge of the bathtub.

You must have been in there a while because there was a knock on the door and you heard your name.

“I-I’m okay.” You stuttered out while holding back moans. It was Sam, who never wanted you to be uncomfortable. You bit down on your lip as you slipped a hand in your pants. After a few minutes of dissatisfying touching, you knew you had to stop and go back out into the room. When you opened the door there were three pairs of eyes on you, one playful, one uninterested, and one worried. You cleared your throat and shuffled to the table before taking a seat. Silence, aside from Castiel’s chewing, filled the room. You pulled out your laptop from the bags that had been brought in and began researching. What, you didn’t know, but it beat trying to avoid Sam’s gaze.

----

It was official: you were horny for Sam Winchester. It was bad, worse than it had been that afternoon. You all had figured out that one of the four horsemen, Famine, was in town, and he was looking for something to satisfy his hunger. It explained everything. Cass’ insatiable hunger and your insatiable need. Even Sam was going thirsty for some demon blood.

Now, you stood, or more squirmed, in the motel room as the boys created a plan. They were starting to suspect something was wrong with you, they just couldn’t figure it out. Dean was a bit more clued into the fact that you seemed to whimper every time you looked in Sam’s direction. Sam, completely clueless to this, had been trying to get you alone in hopes you would tell him what was wrong.

“We find Famine, take his little ring, and everyone will be back to normal.” Dean said, slapping his hands on his lap. You hugged yourself, chewing absentmindedly at your thumbnail in an attempt to stop the desire from coming out of you.

“Dean-” Sam’s voice made you melt and a small moan escaped your lips. The brothers looked at you before turning back to the conversation.

“-I can’t go. The demons-”

“I get it.” Dean interrupted Sam. He knew he couldn’t expect Sam to risk something like this. He had it handled. He had Castiel to help. He would’ve had you also, but he could tell you were ready to pounce on Sam. Your resolve was breaking. There wasn’t much more you could do. You decided - you were going to ask Sam to help you get over this.

“Sam,” You breathed out as you walked to him. Your legs were wobbly. You watched Sam shoot up from his seat, but before you could get to him Dean was grabbing both of your wrists. You whined, trying to pull away. You needed Sam, needed his body, his c-

“No.” Dean spoke sternly, pulling you to the door. He had to get you another room and lock you in. It was for your own good.

“Wait, let her g-” Sam tried to walk to you but Castiel, even in his hungry state, stepped in front of him. You yanked against Dean but he was stronger than you.

“Not right now, man.” Dean spoke as he dragged you out.

“What’s wrong with her?!” Sam was desperate. He needed to know why he couldn’t be around you.

“I think you know.” Castiel said before turning his attention back to his food. Sam shook his head and tried to think. Realization came across his face as he put it all together.

----

An hour had passed since Dean left you. He had locked you in the bathroom of a room as far from the original room that they had available. You had somehow gotten worse. You were bucking from the ground, trying to find something to alleviate the pain. It was horrible. You knew Sam was close. You could feel it. You needed him. The door was locked from the outside, but you were pulling on the handle, trying to get it open.

“Please,” You whined out. You banged on the door, trying to break it down. You whimpered a few times when you felt the fabric of your jeans rub against you. You had grown stronger since joining the boys. You could do this. You needed Sam.

The sound of wood cracking encouraged your efforts. You slammed your body up against the door and hit it with your fists until you felt it give way. You fell to the ground surrounded by the scattered pieces of wood from the door. Your recovery was quick and was sped up by the overwhelming need bubbling in you. You stumbled to the door of the room, which was, stupidly on Dean’s part, simply locked with the deadbolt. You ran out into the night like a caged animal escaping. You searched around trying to find the room where you knew Sam was.

There. Room 12. You ran for it, panting as your core grew wetter. You reached the room, shuffling around for the key that Dean had forgotten to take from you. You fumbled to unlock the door. You could already smell Sam, hear his own struggle to get his fix. You searched the room trying to find him.

“Sammy…” You whined out and clutched your stomach. You couldn’t find him, even though you knew he was here. You heard your name muffled through the door to the bathroom. Of course! Dean had hidden him in the same place he had put you. You practically ran to the door, yanking it open. There he was, handcuffed to the sink and looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes. You whimpered and fell to your knees next to him.

“Sammy, it hurts.” You said, gripping onto his shirt. Sam scrunched his eyebrows in worry and understanding. With his free hand he rubbed your side in an attempt to soothe you.

“I know, honey.” He breathed out as you leaned on him.

“Please, Sammy, help me. Please.” You whimpered and breathed in his scent.

“I don’t know if you-” He began.

“No, I do, I do, I do.” You chanted as his hand gripped onto your side. You could see him roll his head to the side. He could tell you were in pain. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to help. He did, more than anything in the world. He had wanted you since you joined him and Dean on the road. The time was never right, his confidence never high enough. And now he had a chance. The only problem was he didn’t know if you actually wanted it or if it was the old man controlling your desire. When Sam was silent to your begging, you moved in closer.

“Sammy, please… it hurts so bad… I want you… all of you…” You moaned out. Red hot need flashed across your vision. It was getting harder for Sam to not touch you in the way you both wanted. The final crush of his hesitancy was the whimper that came out of you when he took his hand off of you.

“Let me see you, baby.” His tone was delicate even when his words were dirty. You were quick to pull your clothes off. You didn’t care where they went and threw them in every direction. You were left naked and kneeling next to him. His eyes raked down your body before stopping on your acing core. You watched him, whining. He traced a finger across your burning skin. He stopped just before reaching your wetness.

“Please…” You breathed. He flicked his gaze to your eyes momentarily before moving his hand. He started slow, rubbing your clit mindfully. You fell backwards in pleasure but made sure you were still close enough for Sam to touch you. Sam’s pace never slowed or quickened, which made you buck your hips up. He pulled his hand away, leaving you cold and whiny.

“Ah ah,” Sam locked eyes with you, “let me do it.” He placed his hand back where it was to continue his rubbing. Your chest heaved as you willed yourself to stay still. God, you needed this. Your hand moved to your breasts. You toyed with your nipples. This made Sam pull at the cuff around his other wrist. He wanted to touch you, touch all of you. Damn Dean for restraining him like this.

“Just like that, baby, rub them just like that.” He slipped a finger in you. You moaned and clenched around it. He swore under his breath as he moved his hand. You felt like heaven and he hadn’t even had you around his cock yet.

“Yes, Sammy, yes.” You encouraged him. Looking at him from your spot on the floor, you could tell he was getting hard. You wanted to help him, helping him helped you. You moved to get up when Sam pulled his hand back again.

“I said, no moving.” He growled and moved his hips to hide the growing erection. You collapsed on the floor, desperate for him again.

“Wanna make you feel good, Sammy.” You mumbled as you felt not just one, but two fingers slip in. Sam sighed in pleasure, loving how you felt on his hand.

“You are, baby. You can have it, have it all. Just wanna make you come first.” His gentle tone only made you louder. You ran your hands down your body, sparks of pleasure erupting wherever you touched. You were close, so so close. You squeezed your eyes shut as Sam sped up the pace.

“So close, Sam, so so so…” You trailed off, the words falling off your tongue as he curled his fingers. He smiled devilishly, and if you didn’t know any better, or if you were in the headspace to even think, you would’ve thought he was possessed. No, this was completely and wholly Sam Winchester.

“That’s good, baby, come on. Come all undone for me.” He cooed. His words were what sent you over the edge, waves crashing down as you moaned through a bitten lip. The moment of reprieve from the pain was short lived as the need seemed to multiply. You figured this must be what torture was. You turned to your hands and knees before crawling to Sam. He groaned as he watched you look up at him, asking for permission to undress him. He nodded and your hands flew to his zipper. You unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his body with his boxers.

His cock sprang free, looking achingly hard. You sucked in a breath, the sight making your clit throb. You moved a hand to touch him, but was stopped by his hand on your wrist. Your eyes shot to his.

“I want you around me.” His words were almost a beg, like he was just as needy for this as you were. You whimpered in reply, a new wave of pleasure washing over you. You climbed on top of him so you were chest to chest. He looked in your eyes before crashing his lips into yours. It was sloppy and full of desire. His hand gripped your hip, kneading the skin there. You groaned in response. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you tried to hold him as close to you as possible. His hand snaked down to position himself with your hole. He broke the kiss to speak.

“Ready, baby?” He asked. You answered by sinking down onto him with a sigh. You kissed him again, grinding your hips. He helped you move, lifting you with one arm only to guide you back down. His lips left yours, moving down your face then to your neck. He nipped at your skin sharply before kissing it better.

SamSamSamSamSamSam. The only thing in your mind was Sam. His name was racing through your brain in a never ending loop. He left little marks on you everywhere, causing you you speed up your movements. Your fingers tangled in his hair. You needed him closer, needed him deeper.

“God, you feel so good, baby. Just like I dreamed about.” Sam grunted out against your skin. Your walls were warm and tight around him. He could feel you tighten around him when he spoke, which only motivated him to keep going. His words made you moan. You loved this, and though the instant need for it had been brought on against your will, you had been dreaming about this moment for a while.

The room was filled with breathy moans and the sounds of sex. You pulled Sam's head back by his hair, gentle enough, before kissing him again. It was sloppy and wet, full of lust. You could feel yourself growing closer to orgasm again. It was insane how this felt. Most guys hadn't ever gotten you off once, much less twice in the same night. You whimpered into his mouth and felt a smile curve up his face. He was glad he could bring such pleasure to you.

The final breaking point for you was when you felt his hand holding you grip onto the soft fat of your bottom. You let out a few breathy whines as you felt Sam come a second later. You didn't care that the two of you had forgotten to use a condom in your sex driven states. None of that mattered. All that mattered was the euphoric high of multiple orgasms was washing over you as you stayed on Sam. Neither of you were moving anymore. He was still inside you when you let your arms fall to his chest. Your head lolled to its side onto his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you.

“You okay, baby?” He said in between pants. You simply nodded. The overwhelming need to go for another round wasn't coming and you were so glad for it. Finally, you were at peace. Dean and Castiel must have gotten Famine’s ring somehow. You didn't think of what this meant until you heard the door to the motel room open.

“Sam-” Dean began, but was cut off by the sight of the two of you on the bathroom floor, Sam still cuffed to the sink. Castiel appeared behind Dean.

“She wasn't there.” He stated in a monotone after seemingly being sent to check up on you.

“Yeah, I got that.” Dean mumbled. Sam looked up at him sheepishly. You were starting to doze off. The energy it had taken all day to not be able to get off was taking a toll on you. Dean cleared his throat before grabbing a blanket off the bed. He draped it over you in an attempt to keep some of your modesty in tact.

“Can you, ya know?” Sam questioned while rattling the handcuffs attached to him. Dean pulled a key from his pocket and quickly freed his younger brother.

“We'll talk about this later.” Dean said before swiftly getting out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

[redroses07]

𖤐𝔇𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔚𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𖤐

[ninii-winchester]

Baby

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 630 words

Warnings: none.

A/n : this was better in my head but anyways.

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

The bunker door closed with a loud thud, Dean appeared in the war room with a bag in his hands. Y/n was throwing paper balls at Castiel in the library, while Sam was catching up on lore. The older Winchester’s boots thumped against the floor as he walked in the library.

“Whatcha doing fellas?” He asked leaning against a table.

“I’m being tortured.” Castiel said rolling his eyes, pointing towards Y/n.

“No you’re being a bitch, that doesn’t even hurt you.” Y/n retorted with a smirk.

“But it does happen to annoy me immensely.” The angel replied with sass.

Dean just shook his head with a small grin, knowing his girlfriend and best friend love play fighting. Sam had opted to tune out the pair of ‘kids’ until his brother arrived. His gaze dropped to the bag in Dean’s hands.

“What’s in there?” He questioned his older brother.

“Oh just a little something for my baby.” Dean shrugged with a smile.

“I wanna see.” Y/n said taking the bag from his hands and he willingly let her. She pulled out the item from inside the bag, the others watching with keen interest. Her face turned to one of confusion when she pulled it out. “Dean, this is a dress?” Her statement came out more like a question.

“Yeah and?” Dean asked equally confused.

“Now you might as well take her out for a candlelight dinner.” Cas commented with a straight face, which made Sam snort.

“I can do that. No big deal.” Dean replied with delight.

“Dean are you sure you’re okay?” Y/n questioned, her face showing concern. “This is absurd.”

“What’s is?”

“You really don’t think there’s anything wrong with buying a dress for a car?” She asked.

“No-” he said nonchalantly. “wait what?” His eyes widened. “You think I am some sort of freak who buys dresses for my car?”

“Might as well be.” Cas replied.

“You did say that’s something for baby.” Sam chimed in.

“I meant Y/n.” Dean replied his cheeks and ears turning red in embarrassment. Sam and Cas burst out laughing at his blushing face. It was a rare occasion when Dean Winchester got embarrassed. “Even you thought…” he trailed off looking at Y/n.

“It’s because you’ve never called me baby before.!” Y/n defended, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. Sure Dean has given her several nicknames over the years they’ve been together but he’s never called her ‘Baby’. It’s been reserved for the Impala.

“I’m outta here.” Dean said his face all flustered. He glared at his brother and best friend who were getting a kick out of the situation, walking down to the hallway.

“Dean c’mon.” Y/n said rushing behind him. “Don’t be a baby.” She teased and he turned to glare at her which made her purse her lips. “Alright I’m sorry. I won’t tease you again.” She said walking up to him and snaking her arms around his shoulders.

“You sure?” He asked tilting his head.

“Yeah promise. I love you too much.” She pecked his nose. “even if you’re a bit obsessed with your car.” She couldn’t help but add with a grin. Dean groaned dropping his head on her shoulder. She glanced at him with a mischievous grin. “So, do you love your car more than me?”

He looked at her, a playful glint in his eye. “Well, it’s hard to compete with a classic,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I guess I’ll have to settle for being the second love of your life.”

He pulled her into a warm embrace. “Don’t worry, you’re first in everything that matters.” She smiled knowing she was the one who can make his heart race.

Tags:

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

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

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

@suckitands33 @starkleila

[unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men]

Castiel taking to Y/N: "Did you get your baking done last night?"

Y/N looking confused: "I didn't bake anything last night Cas, why would you say that"

Castiel: "I heard you and Dean talking about cream pies and how Dean said he wanted to give you one"

Dean choking on his coffee, Y/N staring open mouthed

Sam laughing: "So Y/N did you give him what he wanted?"

Dean smirking: "Oh she did many times"

Castiel: "I believe we are not talking about baking"

Y/N: "I hate you all"

[take-it-on-the-run]

And I Love Her

Sam Winchester x Reader

The reader and Dean are being tortured by Gordon Walker because of her relationship with Sam, and all they can do is hope he'll get there in time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Torture, graphic depictions of being cut into, descriptions of gore and severe bodily harm, Sam Winchester is out of character depending on who you ask

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! Can I request a Dean and/or Sam Winchester (sepperate) x fem! Reader set in season two, with an established relationship, where it's like when Gordon kidnaps Dean, but instead of just Dean he also kidnaps reader. (I can imagine if it's a Dean x reader Gordon uses reader to get Dean to not try anything, and if it's a Sam x reader Sam just going even more ballistic than he originally does in the show). Thank you!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Beatles title. My first Sam fic! Honestly, it was really hard writing this one for some reason, and after five revisions I'm still not completely in love with it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and heed the warnings! Do not read if this will make you uncomfortable!

Sam Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Gordon stared blankly at the wall in front of him while you tugged at the ropes on your wrists. A bandana was tied tightly around your mouth that tasted like dirt and your own blood. Dean was tied up to the left of you in a similar state, and both of you were staring down Gordon like it would kill him.

Traps lined every entrance from the doors to every small crack in the wall. Sam was powerful, but you doubted he could break through solid brick. Grenades, tripwire, even a shotgun trap that looked like something straight out of a movie; Gordon wanted Sam dead at all costs.

You knew your boyfriend would come to you and Dean’s rescue, but damn was this cutting it close. Gordon had already tried his best with Dean, but when it was your turn, he took his sweet-ass time.

He punched you, kicked you, even spit on you. Now, you tried your best to not scream as he dragged a knife against the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You failed.

Biting down on the bandana, a muffled scream ripped through your lungs. You tried focusing on Dean, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes which were spilling over with more tears than you thought were in your body.

You could feel your blood dripping down your back and your chest, slithering its way to the floor as Gordon wiped his blade with the rag in his back pocket. He wrenched your head to the side, forcing the fresh wound close and for more tears to streak down your face.

He repeated his process on you a few times.

Your arms.

Your hands.

Your legs.

Every time somehow hurt more than the last, the hunter pulling open your skin and snapping it back together like a rubber band. Your vision was spotty, but you held steadfast to the thought that your boyfriend would be here any minute to save the day like he always did.

Gordon took a step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face and arms. He looked down at you with a glare that you’ve held plenty of times for the less-than-human creatures in the world. You guessed that, in his eyes, you, Sam, and Dean, were held in a similar regard.

Snaps.

Taunts.

Cracks.

Screams.

All because you fell in love with someone born under a bad sign.

You didn’t regret meeting Sam. Kissing him, falling for him, even the idea of just having him in your life was enough for your mind to justify the situation you were in. It wasn’t his fault you were having your life drained out of you minute by minute, and you hoped he would be smart enough to know that.

“Sam’s going to be here any minute, you know. Gotta convince himself he’s the hero of this story, and I’m the big,” Gordon turned to you, knife in hand, “bad, evil dragon. But I’m not the one with demon blood, am I, Y/N?” He placed the edge of the blade against the bottom of your chin. You could feel the cold steel heavy against your skin, and any sudden move would surely spill even more of your blood.

Dean glared at Gordon, his face shades of purple and blue, which mirrored the pain you felt along your entire body. Gordon dug the knife into the bottom of your chin, piercing your skin ever so slightly, but not enough to fatally wound you. Your mind was trying hard to hold onto the cracks of reality that remained in your vision; the smell of the dingy house you were in, the feeling of the carpet making contact with your boots, anything that wouldn’t send your consciousness reeling over was enough of an anchor for you to hang onto.

Gordon walked away from the two of you, returning to his position of peering out one of the boarded-up windows in wait for Sam. You glanced at Dean, which granted you a glance back from him. His eyes were dry, but they held enough behind them to let you know what he was thinking. Sam was going to burst into this booby-trapped hellhole, and Dean could do nothing but blame himself.

It’s all your fault, really, a thought that smashed through what you knew was the truth said.

This isn’t any of our faults, you told it back, wanting to tell Dean the same. Sam wasn’t to blame for the two of you being taken, and neither of you was at fault for being used as bait; it all landed in the hands of the rogue hunter who deemed himself holier-than-thou.

Though you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you were starting to resemble a bloody pulp more than a human being. Dean could barely look your way for longer than a second, and deep cuts that surged whether you moved or not continued to scrape away at your consciousness.

Gordon disappeared, and as you tried to turn your head to follow him, you felt a burning pain across your chest. Highlighted by a spurt of blood splattering over your thighs, you wanted to vomit. The top of your head started to feel like it was being lifted off from the rest of your skull, and the black spots in your vision connected at the edges of your eyes.

You grunted, head going slack and opening wounds on the back of your neck. Either spit, blood, or bile dripped out of your mouth, but at that moment you didn’t care- the black at the corners of your eyes bled together, and all you could do was limply hope Sam would find you.

You blinked, slowly, noticing light creeping in from the boarded-up windows. The second thing you noticed was the searing pain in your body, coupled with grunting and what you could guess was a well-landed punch.

“Y/N!” Someone called out to you, but you could barely lift your head to meet their voice. The bandana in your mouth was pulled away and hands cupped your face, warming your skin that was ice cold after losing so much blood.

The hands left your face and moved to the ropes at your wrists, cutting them off quickly and placing your arms in your lap. You forced your eyes up high enough to see it was your hero, Sam, standing before you with tears starting to fill his eyes. If your face would’ve let your smile, you would’ve, but every movement flashed the memory of Gordon cutting into you.

Gordon.

“Where’s-” You managed to sputter out through a sore jaw and a severely dry mouth.

“Dead,” Sam answered coldly. For the first time, you noticed his knuckles were a hue of bright purple, complimented with blood splattering up his arm. Sam moved your arms around his neck and picked you up as gently as he could.

“Dean’s already in the car patching himself up. I’m going to try and lay you down in the back seat so we can get to the closest hospital. I left Gordon in the room by the first door, so keep your head to my chest if you don’t want to see him, okay?” He asked softly. The tears that were in his eyes had faded slightly, but you could see the emotions he’d no doubt try to hide later on. Regret, blame, guilt - the more he looked at you, the more you could sense that your battered state was tearing away at his consciousness. You wanted to reach out, hold his face, and tell him you’d be okay, you’d survived worse, that it wasn’t his fault, but your thoughts were halted by Sam stepping past Gordon’s body.

If you could call it a body, that is.

His nose was sunken into his face enough that his eyes were slightly popping out of their sockets. His mouth had more gums than teeth, which were scattered around the room. He was lying against a dresser, and his limbs were spread out in the wrong directions. You thought you saw a bone, but before you could look closer, Sam turned and shut the door behind you.

Sam laid you across the back seats of the Impala, trying his best to be gentle with the abhorrent number of cuts across your body. You couldn’t guess how the hospital wasn’t going to ask questions, but you hoped the brothers would figure that out. Your head laid in Sam’s lap, and he looked out the window as Dean buried Gordon.

“Sam,” you slowly moved one of your arms to his face, bringing his attention to you, “thank you. You saved us both. You had to do what you had to do.”

Sam smiled but still didn’t say a word as he dipped down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You wanted to be able to tell him everything your racing mind was coming up with but were beaten by the overwhelming need to not move. Dean climbed into the front seat, beating the gas pedal to the floor and hitting the highway as Sam ran his fingers comfortingly through your hair.

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ what really matters !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : shy!reader, crazy overthinking, friends to lovers, insecurities, implied anxiety, crying, hurt / comfort, jealousy, kiss, dean flirts w other people to show off, happy ending, size diff wc : 6.5k a/n : currently working on a part 2! 

it was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. sam had found a lead on a restless spirit haunting a small-town diner, and dean, ever eager for some pie and action, had jumped at the opportunity. you’d tagged along, like always, quietly sitting in the back seat of the impala, offering occasional input between the brothers’ banter.  

the plan was clear: investigate during the day, torch the bones at night. simple enough. yet somehow, being in close proximity to dean for an extended period always felt anything but simple.  

“you’ve been awfully quiet back there,” dean said, turning slightly in the driver’s seat to glance at you. his green eyes lingered a moment too long, forcing him to correct the car’s steering. “everything good?”  

you nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “yeah, just… thinking.”  

“uh-oh,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “are you thinking weird again? i told you, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that with us. leave the worrying to sammy.”  

sam huffed from the passenger seat. “thanks for that, dean.”  

you offered a small smile, unsure how to respond. dean’s words felt warm, like a blanket, but your mind couldn’t stop picking them apart. was he teasing, or did he mean it? did he think you worried too much? was it annoying?  

you shook the thoughts away as the car rolled to a stop in front of the diner.  

inside, the place was charming in that worn-down, small-town way. red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and a waitress who seemed to know everyone’s name. dean leaned against the counter, his usual swagger on full display.  

“so, martha,” he said, flashing the waitress a smile that could’ve melted butter, “anything weird going on around here lately? cold spots, flickering lights, mysterious whispers…?”  

you hovered awkwardly near sam, feeling out of place. martha’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to dean, completely ignoring you and sam.  

“oh, weird stuff always happens around here,” she said with a giggle. “but nothing too scary. why, you boys hunting ghosts or something?”  

dean chuckled. “or something.”  

you shifted on your feet, pretending to study the menu even though you weren’t planning on ordering anything. dean’s charm was undeniable, and you’d seen him use it a million times to get information, but it always left you with a strange, hollow feeling.  

not that it mattered. it wasn’t like he meant anything by it.  

“you alright?” sam asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts.  

“yeah,” you lied. “just tired.”  

sam didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.  

the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of questions and notes. martha had mentioned a former cook who’d died on the job and hinted at some unusual occurrences in the kitchen, which gave you all a solid lead.  

“we’ll dig up his records, find the grave, and salt-and-burn tonight,” sam said as you walked back to the car.  

“easy peasy,” dean added, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he held the door open for you. “see, this is why you keep us around. all the hard work, none of the worrying.”  

your heart jumped at the casual contact, but you forced yourself to focus. it didn’t mean anything. he was just being dean.  

the graveyard was damp and cold by the time you arrived. armed with shovels, salt, and gasoline, you worked as quickly as possible, trying not to draw attention.  

“you’re sure this is the right spot?” you asked, glancing at the headstone.  

“positive,” sam said. “records match up.”  

“don’t worry,” dean said with a wink, “we’ve got this.”  

you weren’t sure how he managed to be so confident all the time. it was like he didn’t feel fear, or at least he never showed it. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what might go wrong. as the brothers dug, you stayed on lookout, flashlight in hand. the woods were eerily quiet, every rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge.  

“hey,” dean called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good over there, sweetheart?”  

you nodded, gripping the flashlight tighter. “yeah, just keeping watch.”  

“you’re cute when you’re focused, you know that?” he said, grinning as he tossed another shovelful of dirt aside.  

your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to scan the trees. cute? he probably didn’t mean it. he said stuff like that all the time.  

still, the word echoed in your mind, making it hard to think straight.  

the ghost showed up right on cue, just as dean and sam hit the coffin. it was a tall, shadowy figure with glowing eyes, and boy did it move fast. too fast.  

“stay back!” dean shouted, stepping in front of you as the spirit lunged.  

sam was already throwing salt and iron, keeping it at bay while dean lit the match and dropped it into the open grave. flames roared to life, and the ghost let out an ear-splitting scream before vanishing.  

you stood frozen, heart pounding as the grave smoldered.  

“you okay?” dean asked, turning to you. his hands landed on your shoulders, steady and warm.  

you nodded, your voice stuck in your throat.  

“you sure?” he pressed, his green eyes scanning your face.  

“yeah, i’m fine,” you managed to whisper, hoping the fear in your eyes wasn’t too obvious.

he didn’t look convinced but let it go, giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.  

the ride back to the motel was quiet, exhaustion settling over the group.  

“not bad for a day’s work,” dean said, trying to lighten the mood.  

you offered a small smile, but your mind was still racing. every little thing he said, every glance, every touch — it all felt so significant, and yet it probably meant nothing to him.  

“you’re thinking too much again,” dean teased, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “what’d i tell you about that?”  

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, hoping he’d drop it.  

but dean being dean, he didn’t.  

“come on,” he said, turning in his seat to face you. “spill it. what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

you froze, unsure how to respond. sam shot you a sympathetic look but didn’t intervene.  

“seriously,” dean pressed, his voice softer now. “are you good?”  

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, ‘m just tired.”  

he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the road.  

back at the motel, you retreated to your room as quickly as possible, needing space to breathe.  

dean had always been a little too much — too loud, too charming, too... everything. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, even if you knew it was hopeless. you sighed, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.  

somewhere in the room next door, dean was probably cracking jokes with sam, completely unaware of the chaos he caused in your mind.  

it was fine. it had to be fine.  

because as much as you wanted to believe he saw you as more than a friend, you couldn’t risk getting your hopes up.  

the day started like any other, with sam at the laptop, you poring over your notes, and dean bustling around with an air of restless energy.  

“coffee?” dean asked, holding up a cup for you.  

you nodded, offering a small smile. “thanks.”  

he plopped down beside you at the motel table, his knee bumping yours. “so, what’s the game plan today, professor?”  

“um…” you hesitated, flipping through the notebook in front of you. “so, i think we should — ”  

“let me guess,” dean interrupted with a grin. “the safest, most boring route possible, right?”  

you blinked, taking a second to process what he’d just said, hurt surely beginning to form in your features.

“it’s not boring,” you mumbled.  

“sure thing… but hey, relax!” he said, patting your shoulder. “you’re good at what you do, even if you’re a little… well, a lot predictable.”  

your stomach twisted. predictable? was that how he saw you?  

“thanks, dean,” you muttered, staring down at your notes to hide the burn in your cheeks. sam noticed though. sam always noticed.

sam shot dean a look from across the room. “hey, maybe ease up a little, man.”  

“what?” dean said, shrugging him off, a deep chuckle reverberating from his chest. “i’m just messing with her.”  

the lighthearted tone didn’t soften the sting. you knew dean teased everyone, but his words stuck like a burr under your skin, refusing to let go.  

soon after, the three of you piled into the impala, the rumble of the engine filling the silence as dean cranked up the radio. you stared out the window, letting the music blur into background noise while your mind replayed the conversation from earlier.  

predictable. you thought, the word echoing in your head.  

you weren’t mad at dean — how could you be? he didn’t mean anything by it. but the overthinking wouldn’t let up, weaving a web of doubt and insecurity that clung to you like static.  

“you okay?” sam asked from the front seat, glancing back at you.  

you forced a smile. “yeah. just tired.”  

sam didn’t press, but his concerned expression lingered.  

the diner was bustling with mid-morning activity when you arrived, the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. you slid into the booth, hoping the noise would drown out your thoughts.  

“what can i get ya?” the waitress asked, her voice cheerful as she slid the menus across the table.

“just a coffee, please,” you said quickly, barely looking up as your fingers fumbled over the paper.

“and a stack of pancakes,” dean added, leaning forward and giving her a grin that was just a little too easy. “extra syrup. gotta start the day off right, y’know?”

the waitress’s eyes lit up, and she laughed, her attention lingering on dean as she jotted down the order. there was something almost playful in the way she looked at him, an expression that made your chest tighten.

“you sure know how to charm, don’t ya?” she teased, her voice warm and full of flirtation.

“what can i say?” dean replied, that easy smirk tugging at his lips. “comes pretty easily when i’m speaking to women like you.”

you forced your eyes back to the menu, though you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the way the waitress’s fingers lingered on the pen, her attention still fixed on dean. the two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, and you were just... here. watching. waiting.

“what about you, sweetheart?” the waitress turned to you, her smile softening just slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“uh, just coffee, please,” you mumbled again, feeling heat crawl up your neck. your voice felt small in the noise of the diner, a whisper lost among the clatter of plates and low hum of conversation.

“gotcha,” she said, giving you a brief, almost dismissive nod before turning and making her way to the kitchen. you could still feel her attention on you, like an echo, but this time, it was empty, no warmth behind it.

dean shifted beside you, leaning back and letting out a low chuckle. “she’s got quite the smile, huh?” his eyes were teasing, his grin crooked as he looked over at you and sam. the joke was light, but there was an edge to it that made you feel off balance.

you forced a laugh, but it came out hollow, cracking under the weight of the moment. “yeah, sure,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed on the coffee cup in front of you, the porcelain cool and solid beneath your fingertips.

“you okay?” sam’s voice broke through the silence once again. dean’s teasing slipping away as his eyes studied you too. there was a flicker of concern in them, but before you could let yourself get lost in it, he added, “didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart. it’s just... that kind of smile, you know?”

the question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the waitress or you. but the sharp sting of jealousy you felt at the thought made your throat tighten. you forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. “i’m fine. just... not hungry, that’s all.”

“you sure?” he pressed, his expression softening as he reached for his coffee. the playful energy had faded, and now there was something else, a vulnerability that felt rare for him.

“yeah,” you said, voice quiet. “just... never mind.”

he leaned back, eyes still on you, but this time, there was a shadow in them, a shift that made your heart twist. he looked away, watching the waitress as she came back with a smile that was just for him. his eyes softened, and he laughed as she spoke to him, teasing and warm.

it was almost too much, the way he could be so effortlessly charming. your chest ached with the realization that the way he looked at her was the same way he looked at you sometimes, though it felt different when it was just the two of you, alone in the dim light of the bunker. 

by the time the food arrived, your appetite had disappeared. dean was still chatting with the waitress every time she came by, his voice low and easy in a way that made your chest ache.  

you stared at your coffee cup, your fingers tightening around it as your thoughts spiraled. was this what dean wanted? someone confident, flirty, and self-assured? someone like her?  

the sting of earlier comments layered on top, building a weight that felt impossible to carry.  

“you sure you’re okay?” sam asked again softly, his voice cutting through the haze.  

“fine,” you said quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.  

sam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.  

dean, oblivious, kept talking. “man, this coffee’s strong enough to put hair on your chest. might wanna ease up, professor,” he teased, nudging you lightly.  

that was it. the dam broke.  

you barely registered standing up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.  

“excuse me,” you muttered, your voice shaking.  

you hurried out of the diner, your chest tight and your vision blurred.  

sam found you a few minutes later, sitting on a bench just outside. he didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you and offered a quiet, grounding presence.  

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, his tone careful.  

you shook your head, unable to form the words.  

“okay,” he said gently. “you don’t have to talk. just breathe.”  

his arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close. the dam fully burst then, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head in your hands.  

sam held you, his voice low and steady. “you’re alright. just let it out.”  

his hand alternating between rubbing soothing circles on your back and tapping you lightly to the beat of your heart, the steady motions helping to calm the blur.

“‘m sorry, sam,” you choked out between sobs.  

“don’t apologize,” sam said firmly. “you don’t even owe anyone an explanation. especially not dean.”  

you flinched at the mention of his name, fresh waves of doubt and embarrassment washing over you.  

sam seemed to sense it, his tone softening even more. “he doesn’t mean half the crap he says, you know. he’s just… dean.”  

you managed a shaky nod, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully ease.  

“hey,” sam said, tipping your chin up to look at him. “you’re okay.”

he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, the gesture warm and comforting in a way that made you tear up all over again. sam had always had a way of calming you down, knowing what was wrong and when. you were very similar in lots of ways.

inside, dean sat in the booth, fidgeting with his coffee cup.  

“where’d they go?” the waitress asked, dropping off the check.  

“outside,” dean muttered, his gaze fixed on the window.  

he watched as sam wrapped you in a hug, his jaw tightening.  

“everything okay with your girl?” the waitress asked, her tone light.  

“she’s not my girl,” dean said quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended.  

the waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, the hint of a smile ghosting over her features.

dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. he hadn’t meant to upset you — he never did — but the sight of you crying, with sam comforting you, made something twist in his chest. he threw some cash on the table and stood, his mind racing with a mix of guilt and something else he couldn’t quite name. jealousy, maybe?  

he pushed the thought aside, heading toward the door.  

“dean?” sam’s voice cut through the noise of the diner.  

dean turned, finding his brother standing outside the far doorway, his arm still draped protectively around you.  

“give her a minute,” sam said, his expression firm.  

dean nodded, swallowing hard as he watched you lean into sam’s side.  

he retreated back and stood in the doorway of the diner, his boots scuffing against the floor as he watched you outside with sam. his jaw ticked, the familiar burn of guilt twisting in his chest.  

you’d looked so hurt when you bolted. he hadn’t meant to upset you — hell, he rarely thought before he spoke, but he hated that his careless words had made you cry.  

and then there was sam, playing the role of the comforter, his arm draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

dean hated how that made him feel. jealousy wasn’t a look he liked wearing, but damn if it wasn’t fitting him like a glove right now. he shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the worn linoleum. when sam finally walked you back in, dean forced himself to meet your eyes.  

you glanced at him briefly, your cheeks blotchy and red, before dropping your gaze to the floor. the pang in his chest deepened.  

sam gave him a pointed look, one that said, don’t screw this up, before gently nudging you toward the booth.  

you slid in first, keeping as much distance between you and dean as possible.  

“hey,” dean started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “you okay?”  

“i’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.  

the waitress returned, her cheerfulness only adding to the tension at the table.  

“ready for the check?” she asked, glancing between the three of you.  

“yeah, we’re done,” dean said gruffly, tossing some cash onto the table without counting it. “keep the change.”  

the waitress hesitated, her gaze lingering on dean for a second too long before she turned and walked away.  

sam cleared his throat. “we should probably hit the road.”  

“yeah,” dean muttered, sliding out of the booth.  

the ride back to the motel was quieter than it had ever been. the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper as sam reviewed the hunt notes. dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, but you didn’t notice. you were too busy staring out the window, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.  

“so,” sam said awkwardly, breaking the silence, “any ideas on how we’re gonna track this thing down?”  

dean grunted. “same as always. follow the trail, kill the thing.” 

sam shot him a look but didn’t press further.  

you stayed quiet, your thoughts miles away.  

back at the motel, you retreated to your room almost immediately, mumbling something about needing to check your notes. dean and sam both watched you go, the motel door clicking shut behind you.  

dean’s jaw tightened as the guilt settled deeper in his chest. he wasn’t used to feeling like this — so unsure, so aware of every single way he’d messed up. he rubbed a hand over his face, frustration building as he stared at the floor. he could feel sam's eyes on him, the tension thick in the air. he didn’t know how to fix it, and that made everything worse.

“dean, what the fuck? that shit you pulled at the diner… it doesn’t impress her you know. flirting with other people. christ.” sam said, his voice getting louder with every word, visibly stressing out. evidently, he’d been holding that in for a while now, waiting to get dean alone.

“i know i fucked up. okay, sam, i know.” dean snapped back.

“you’re gonna talk to her, right? you better.” sam asked, leaning against the kitchenette counter.  

“yeah,” dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just… give me a minute.”  

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the thin motel walls didn’t leave much to the imagination.  

hearing dean pacing and muttering under his breath made your stomach twist. you couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking about you. the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder than ever.  

he’s probably frustrated with me. i overreacted. i always overreact.

you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands.  

dean knocked on your door a little later, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood.  

“hey,” he called, his voice hesitant. “you busy?”  

you hesitated, then opened the door a crack. “no.”  

he stood there, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.  

“can we talk?” he asked.  

you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.  

he glanced around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “listen,” he started, “about earlier…”  

you shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes.  

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i was just… being a bit of an idiot, like usual.”  

you looked up at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly.  

“yeah, i did,” he admitted, his green eyes locking onto yours. “i was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.”  

the honesty in his voice made your chest ache.  

“it’s okay,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it.  

“it’s not,” dean insisted. “you’re… you’re important to me. and the last thing i want is to make you feel like crap.”  

your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket.  

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

he took a step closer, his gaze searching yours. “are we okay?”  

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

“good,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing.  

he seemed to hesitate a little before taking another step closer, looking down at you as he seemed to study your expression. he smiled once again, a big cheesy dean smile and then after he seemed to contemplate what to do he turned on his heel after planting a soft kiss on your head. as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just imagined the way his eyes lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.  

inside his own room, dean collapsed onto the bed with a groan. he stared at the ceiling, replaying everything over in his head.  

he’d apologized, sure, but it didn’t feel like enough. not when you’d looked so… defeated. for one of the first times in his life he felt awkward, he hoped you hadn’t thought too much of the kiss, however short lived. his chest tightened at the memory of your tear-streaked face in the diner. it was like a punch to the gut every time he thought about it.  

“damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.  

he hated this. hated feeling like he was losing his grip on something that mattered so much to him. because you did matter — to him, more than you probably knew. and that was the problem. he wasn’t sure how to show you without screwing it up further.  

the tension you thought was resolved seemed to linger between you and dean the next day, hanging over the group like a storm cloud. sam did his best to fill the silence, but it was clear neither of you were really in the mood to talk.  

“i’ll check out the library,” sam said finally, grabbing his bag. “you two stay here, see if you can dig up anything online.”  

dean nodded, not meeting your eyes as sam left. the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone.  

“you want the laptop?” dean asked, his voice gruff.  

you nodded, taking it from him without a word.  

he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “look, i don’t know how many more times i can say i’m sorry, but — ”  

“you don’t have to keep apologizing,” you interrupted, your voice softer than you intended. a stark contrast to his.

he blinked, caught off guard. “i just… i hate that i made you feel like that.”  

you glanced at him, your heart aching at the genuine regret in his eyes.  

“it’s okay, dean. you’ve already said sorry, i thought that was it,” you said, even though part of you wasn’t sure it really was.  

he nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked away.  

that night, dean stood outside your door again, debating whether or not to knock. he hated this distance between you two, hated feeling like he was walking on eggshells. but most of all, he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.  

finally, he knocked, his heart pounding in his chest.  

“come in,” you called softly.  

he opened the door, hesitating in the doorway.  

“hey,” he said, his voice quiet. “you doing okay?”  

you nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise.  

he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  

“look,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m not great at this kind of thing, but… i care about you. more than i probably should.”  

your breath caught, his words hitting you like a freight train.  

“dean, i…”  

he held up a hand, cutting you off. “just… let me say this, okay? i care about you, and i hate seeing you upset. especially if it’s because of me.”  

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you fought back tears.  

“you’re not just a friend to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.  

your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. what could he mean by that? what you’d always wished he felt for you?

“dean,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “you mean a lot to me too.”  

he looked at you, his green eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.  

“so… are we good?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.  

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension.  

“yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time.  

he smiled back, the tension in his shoulders finally easing fully. and for the first time in days, things between you felt like they might actually be okay.  

you weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow you and dean ended up crammed together in the tiny motel room armchair, your knees brushing his and his warmth radiating off him like a furnace.  

sam had taken off to follow a lead, leaving you and dean to man the research front. but the computer battery had died, the coffee had gone cold, and now you were both lazily flipping through books neither of you were really reading.  

dean tilted his head, watching you as you squinted at the small print. “you always make that face when you read?”  

“what face?” you asked, looking up at him.  

“that cute little scrunched-up thing,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.  

your stomach flipped, and you ducked your head, suddenly very interested in the book in your lap. “i don’t scrunch my face.”  

“yeah, you do,” he said, leaning closer. “like this.”  

he exaggerated a dramatic squint, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into something ridiculous.  

you couldn’t help it — you giggled, the sound soft and bubbling out of you before you could stop it.  

dean grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “there it is,” he said, his voice warm.  

for a moment, everything felt easy, natural, like the awkwardness and tension of the past few days had melted away. but then your eyes caught the faint smear of grease on his hand, and your mind drifted.  

you thought back to the first time you’d realized you had a crush on dean winchester.  

it had been a quiet night in the bunker, just the two of you tinkering with the impala. he’d handed you a wrench, his hand brushing yours, and you’d felt it — a spark, like a live wire connecting the two of you.  

he’d smiled at you then, soft and genuine, and it had made your heart race.  

you’d brushed it off at first, chalking it up to admiration or something equally benign. but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized it was something else entirely.  

you’d fallen for him — hard.  

and it wasn’t just his looks, though you’d be lying if you said those green eyes and that cocky grin didn’t make your knees weak. it was everything about him: the way he protected the people he cared about, the way he laughed, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and still managed to crack a joke.  

but he’d never see you that way. how could he? you were just… you.  

and then there was the size difference. it wasn’t something you normally thought about, but around dean, it was impossible to ignore. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly self-conscious.  

you, on the other hand, felt small in comparison — too small, too quiet, too unsure of yourself to ever catch his attention.  

“hey,” dean said, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good?”  

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile.  

“you sure? you spaced out there for a second.”  

“just tired,” you lied.  

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.  

dean wasn’t immune to overthinking either, though he’d never admit it out loud. he’d had a thing for you for what felt like forever, but he’d always convinced himself it was a bad idea.  

you were shy, sweet, and way too good for someone like him. besides, he didn’t want to scare you off — not when having you around was one of the few things that made the job bearable.  

so he kept his feelings to himself, content to just be your friend, even if it killed him a little every time you smiled at him like he hung the moon.  

but there were moments — moments like now, with you sitting so close, your leg brushing his and your eyes darting to his every so often — that made it damn near impossible to keep his cool.  

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you don’t have to keep everything to yourself.”  

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”  

“i mean… you can talk to me,” he said, his gaze steady. “about anything.”  

your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice.  

“i know,” you said softly.  

he smiled at that, a small, lopsided grin that made your chest feel warm.  

“good,” he said, leaning forward slightly.  

the proximity made your breath hitch, your eyes locking onto his for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. but then the moment passed, and he leaned back again, running a hand through his hair.  

later that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts wandered again.  

you thought about all the little things dean did — how he always walked on the side closest to traffic, how he made sure you ate on hunts, how he was quick to tease but just as quick to defend you if anyone else tried.  

he cared about you. you knew that much.  

but as a friend, or something more?  

the uncertainty gnawed at you, and you rolled onto your side, pulling the blanket tighter around you.  

dean wasn’t faring much better. he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his mind racing.  

he thought about all the times he’d come close to saying something, only to chicken out at the last second.  

he thought about the way you’d looked at him earlier, like you were trying to figure him out. he thought about how often he fucked up infront of you, trying to distract himself from his silly crush only to regret it afterwards. and he thought about the way you made him feel — like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought he was.  

“screw it,” he muttered under his breath, standing up and heading for your door.  

a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, startling you. you sat up in bed, heart thudding.  

“it’s me,” dean’s voice came softly from the other side, muffled but familiar.  

“come in,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.  

the door creaked open, and dean stepped inside, his movements careful. he closed the door behind him quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night.  

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way, his gaze briefly flicking to yours before darting away.  

“yeah, me neither,” you murmured, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket draped over your lap.  

he hesitated for a moment, standing awkwardly near the door before crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of your bed. the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.  

finally, dean broke the silence. “so i’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice quiet but deliberate. “about us.”  

your stomach flipped, your pulse quickening as his words hung in the air. “us?” you echoed, barely audible.  

he nodded, his jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. “you mean a lot to me,” he said finally, his voice rough around the edges. “more than i’ve ever really let on. i regret that.”

your breath caught, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his tone.  

“dean…” you began, but he held up a hand, his eyes meeting yours fully now.  

“let me say this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ve spent so much time trying to keep things simple, to keep things from getting messy. but with you…” he trailed off, his expression softening as he searched your face. “it’s never been simple. and i wouldn’t want it to be.”  

his words hit you like a punch to the gut — raw, honest, and so undeniably him.  

“i don’t know if i’m any good at this,” he admitted, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver up your spine. “but i want to try. if you’ll let me.”  

your heart raced, a thousand emotions swirling inside you. “dean, you don’t have to…”  

“i want to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “i care about you. more than i probably should. and i don’t want to keep pretending like that’s not true.”  

your hand was fully engulfed in his now. you swallowed hard, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. he looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.  

dean’s gaze flickered, his lips parting slightly before he closed them again, his hesitation palpable. his other hand hovered near yours, fingers brushing faintly, the touch so light it was almost imagined. the space between you seemed to shrink on its own, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. his eyes lingered, tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.  

his fingers shifted closer, finally grazing yours with deliberate care. the air grew warmer, each heartbeat louder than the last, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting.

“can i…?” he started, his voice trailing off as he leaned slightly closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes.  

you nodded, unable to find your voice, your chest tight with anticipation.  

his hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in. his lips met yours softly, testing, like he was afraid to push too far. but when you didn’t pull away, he pressed a little closer, his warmth grounding you.

the moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to tilt. his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your fingers clutched at his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath your grip as a quiet whimper escaped you.  

dean groaned in response, the sound low and rough, reverberating against your lips. it sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing hotter. his other hand found your waist, firm but gentle, anchoring you to him. his thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting something that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded and his breathing slightly uneven.  

“i’ve wanted to do that for so damn long,” he confessed, his voice low and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.  

“me too,” you whispered, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.  

he chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “guess we’re both a little stubborn, huh?”  

you smiled, a weight lifting off your chest as his words settled into your heart. “maybe just a little.”  

dean’s fingers traced the edge of your jaw, his touch lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “you’re fuckin’ awesome, you know that?” he said softly, his voice almost reverent. 

you giggled quietly, the sound light and easy. “if i’m fuckin’ awesome, what are you?” you said, mimicking his much deeper voice,

he smirked, his expression softening as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “just lucky,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that made your chest ache in the best way. 

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

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[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being���kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating this emotionally unstable man and being his comfort. or Dating Dean winchester

[samwinchesterswifu]

Million Dollar Baby (Castiel x Reader) Smut

Song Inspo: "Million Dollar Baby" by Tommy Richman

Warnings: grace!kink

MINORS DNI

A/N: I wanted to write more into it, but felt like i havent been able to write full blow p in v type smut, so i am sorrry for the cocktease. But let me know if you want the full version <3

Word Count: 1140

Summary: On a hunt with the boys and the angel she's infatuated with, what could possibly happen?

She shifts awkwardly on her heels while adjusting the length of the tight red dress she was wearing. Dean chose her and Cas as the primary subjects to try to lure in a Witch that was causing havoc with some love spell. The two of them where supposed to go to a club that the Witch frequented under suggestion of Crowley. She couldn’t imagine Castiel all dressed up. Having an infatuation of the angel was hard enough to keep a secret, just picturing him in a proper suit had her mind buzzing. But that thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the bathroom door of the crappy motel they were in for the week.

“Hurry up Y/N!” Dean yelled.

“Alright!” She yelled back in response.

Heat was already rising to her cheeks due to the nerves. She turns to the door and grabs the door knob. Taking a deep breath, she opens up the door to find Castiel entering the motel room with Sam on his trail and shit eating grin plastered to his face.

Both of them stopped in their tracks at the sight of each other. A low whistle is heard from Dean.

“Damn Y/N I didn’t know you cleaned up like that.” She could feel Dean undress her with his eyes and she shoots him a glare before turning her attention back to Castiel.

Sam leaned up against the door of the motel, with arms crossed he seemed pleased by her reaction. When Sam had offered to help Castiel get “cleaned up” this wasn’t what she had imagined.

Castiel had black pleated dress pants on, accompanied by a midnight blue knitted polo short-sleeved shirt with some buttons undone. The shortened sleeves seemed to show off some muscle she didn’t even know he had. He was also wearing a simple chain necklace, and presumably a watch. All pulled together with a leather jacket.

The two of them eyed each other up and down before a cough came from Deans direction.

“Well, we should get going, we need to get there before dark to set up surveillance.” Dean says, grabbing the keys to the Impala and ushering the two to the car.

They each sit in the backseat while the boys sat up front. As they journeyed towards the venue, she would steal glances of the angel in the reared view mirror. Not realizing he was doing the same thing.

Finally, after what seemed forever in an awkward silenced car, they arrive at the scene.

“Okay, remember the plan, you two on the dance floor, we’ll try to catch the Witch before anything happens, got it?” Dean asks.

She nods in agreeance and anxiously exits the car. Going around to Castiel’s side of the Impala and forcefully grabs his hand and leads him into the place. Once inside, she makes a beeline towards the bar. Ordering a shot for both her and Castiel.

“Y/N you know I don’t get drunk,” the angel besides her comments.

“I know but if we want this to look believable then I need you to drink something for the time being.” She sighs, taking her shot and asking for another round for the two of them.

This was also mainly an excuse to try to help calm her nerves. It wasn’t the fear of the Witch planting some dangerous love spell on them, it was that she was already so hot and bothered by him and the way that he cleaned up.

After a 3rd round of shots, she felt a small buzz and felt ready to hit the dance floor while Castiel presumably looked unbothered. Grabbing his hand again, she leads him towards the center of the dance floor. As a few different songs came on, she tried to dance around Castiel. Not really knowing what to do, but more so moving along with the beat.

That was until a newer song came on. Castiel had twirled her out, and brought her back in at the beginning of the song. Placing her back flushed against his chest and the two of them moved comorbidly to the beat. Castiel’s head dipped to her shoulder and his breath was hot on her neck. Closing her eyes, she squirmed against him trying to create some form of friction. Both of Castiel’s hands where placed on her hips helping control her movement. But a third form of heat began to climb down her chest and a squeezing sensation was felt on her breasts. Her eyes shot open, looking down to find nothing there. She looks up to Castiel to see his eyes shining blue. This man was using his grace on her. She could feel the grace began to move down her body. Making her breath hitch, how ballsy could this man be?

Castiel appeared to have a new founded confidence because he seemed more cocky then ever. He didn’t need sex pollen, or a sex spell, the man was drunk off her alone. Getting loss in the moment, her breath hitched as the grace came over her core. As the anticipation built, Castiel stopped. He grabbed onto her hand, and twirled her back out. But as he was pulling in, he made sure that they were facing each other. His eyes still shimmered a bright blue tone different than his normal.

“Castiel?” She whispers his name in confusion.

“Motel, now.” Castiel responded through gritted teeth.  

Nodding in response, they were gone in a moment. Poofing back into the motel room instantly, she realized that Cas had teleported them there. Her phone began to ring off the hook assumingly it was Dean or Sam calling to see what happened. But she didn’t have a care in the world. She was ready to worship the man in front of her. Cas grabs tightly on her hips looking at her eyes and down to her lips.

“Do you have any idea how much you drove me crazy in there? I’ve never felt this way towards a human,” he says walking her back up against the bed. The back of her knees flushed against the bed frame.

Cas’s head drop to her neck and attaches his lips to the skin. Kissing up and down nibbling softly along the way. Breathy moans of pleasure leaves her lips as her head dips back. The warm feeling of grace making its return on her body made her feel even more drunk than she could be on a Saturday night. Cas takes a moment away from attacking her neck to look her dead in the eyes.

“I need permission love, I need you, so please, let me show you what a man can’t do that I can do, all for you,” he whispers sultrily.

“Please Castiel,” she breathes out.

Castiel eyes deepen as a smile forms across his face.

“Anything for you love.”