#spn fluff bingo

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Naive

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Summary: It’s your first acting role. So, of course you make mistakes. Of course, you’re stressed and freeze when it’s time to do the sexy scene. It’s not your fault if biting your fingers and playing with your hair are your methods of stress relief. No matter what you do, the director always seem upset with you. You have no idea why until he asks you to meet on set way after shooting for a… private lesson.

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7131

Warning: Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, sexual tension, unprofessional relationship, naive!reader, dom!Jensen, director!Jensen, semi public sex

Squares: Jensen Ackles for @anyfandomkinkbingo / Shyness/innocence for @j3bingo / New Job for @anyfandomfluffbingo / Grinding for @spnkinkevents

A/n: Hello hello! So this fic is born from the pic below (the one on the left) and a conversation I had with @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior! Thank you for sharing ideas with me and for being the beta to this fic!! Header made by me with pics from instagram and from the EW!

Don’t forget to leave a feedback! It’s what makes writer want to keep writing!

“Cut!”

In the room, a common sigh of frustration echoed. The little red light disappeared on the cameras as the people behind them stopped recording. Everyone on set, including the actors and the staff, stopped working and stared at the reason why they were interrupted again.

Not totally understanding what was happening and why everyone was looking at you, with rather annoyed expressions, you turned your attention to the director that just called for the cut. 

“Why are we stopping?” Playing nervously with a lock of hair, you left your mark and walked towards the blinding lights of the spots that were pointed at you. Most of the crew, including him, were sitting behind them. You just wanted to see his expression, just wanted to make sure the cut wasn’t because of you, just wanted to be sure-

“Don’t move from your mark. How many times do I have to say this?” The director hissed between his teeth. 

Freezing completely, you finally understood why the scene had been cut and that it had indeed been your fault. You walked back to your spot, quiet apologies falling from your lips and your head bent, feeling tears burn your eyes. It was your fault, again. 

“Alright. Y/n. We talked about this. We even changed the dialogue so it’s easier for you. So why are you still messing it up?” Your director asked, frustration evident.

“I-” You started, but luckily, you didn’t have to defend your case. Your co-star, Jacob, stepped forward, abandoning his mark as well. The director didn’t scold him for that though. 

“I don’t understand why we stopped again, the scene was going nicely,” he said, and you looked at him with teary eyes.

“First of all, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” The director responded.

You could just make out some movement in front of you, but you couldn’t really see anything because of the blinding spotlights. But in the end, you didn’t have to strain to see him, because your director walked up to where you were standing. The lights were now behind him, throwing him into silhouette. You blinked a couple of times, and squinted slightly to try and see him clearly. It wasn’t easy, but you finally managed…and immediately regretted it.

Not only was he scary, but he…somehow that scariness was also remarkably hot. You didn’t want to make him angry, but when he was…wow! Which made things so much more complicated and messed up.

“It’s her first role,” your co-star continued in your defense. But one glance from the director and his mouth was shut. “Sorry mister Ackles.” He demurred, and then, your would-be savior was back on his mark, leaving you alone in front of the director, Jensen Ackles.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, now biting your finger. It was all you could do - apologize for messing up all the time.

“Being sorry is not enough,” he walked even closer to where you were, and since you didn’t want to move from your mark, and make him angrier, he was quickly crowded into your personal space. His scent filled your senses and you felt yourself go weak, especially in the knees. You chewed on your finger harder. 

“You have talent, Y/n, but you are not focused,” he tapped your forehead which made you wince and blink. When you opened your eyes again, it was to plunge them into his gaze, and you regretted looking him in the eyes. In the darkness, his eyes looked almost black, even though you knew they were really the most gorgeous shade of green. 

“Don’t make me regret hiring you.”

It wasn’t really a threat, it was more of an effort to push you in the right direction. After all the scenes you’d already filmed, Jensen couldn’t fire you. It would cost too much to replace you at this point. You knew that, but still, hearing the words from him, the man you looked up to, the man you thought was so talented, so beautiful and so intimidating…well, it hurt. 

Feeling your eyes fill with tears again, you bent your head and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Now, we’ll do it once more. I want to feel desire between you and Jacob. You are his mistress, you missed him and you don’t have a lot of time with him before his wife gets back. It has to be passionate, rushed, you don’t have time to waste talking about the situation. I want to feel how much you need him.” 

You nodded again, trying hard to focus back to the scene, but then your gaze caught something. Still looking down, you had a good view on Jensen’s lower body. And next to his clenched fists, you were sure there was a bump forming in his jeans, a rather noticeable bulge stretching out the denim in his crotch.

You immediately looked away, afraid he would realize that you saw it, but then you were left staring at his hands again. You could see the veins that were protruding up his arms to his elbows where he had rolled up his sleeves, and they were hypnotizing. 

“Let’s roll.”

There was a very good reason why you were having so much trouble with the scene. And a big part of that reason was the director was making you incredibly horny, so that all you kept thinking about was him watching you make out with your co-star. 

You fumbled the scene again.

“Cut!”

Long sighs and even grunts echoed this time.

“That’s it. We’re taking a break.” Jensen’s voice was so rough, it sent shivers down your spine. This time, you knew it was your fault. You’d managed to kiss Jacob like you were meant to, with a burning passion. But then, when it was time to undress yourself…you froze.

You knew it was ridiculous, you weren’t really going to be naked. There were special items you were wearing for the sex scene. Nothing would be on display, your breasts were covered and you were keeping your underwear on. But the simple act of removing your shirt while he was watching was just too much; you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” you rushed to say, but Jensen was already gone.

You sighed deeply, wishing you could explain to him. There was also a very good reason why you were so shy and uncomfortable with intimate scenes. 

You’d dated someone before. Once. One boyfriend in your whole life. You weren’t a virgin, but your only experience of sex had been disastrous and awful. Your boyfriend had managed to make you feel so bad during your time together, so ugly and repulsive that you’d never again shown desire or interest for another man out of fear of feeling that pain again. 

And, it seemed, even if it was all fake for a movie, it was still very hard to get past. But you couldn’t tell your director all of that; it was too hard to say it out loud. 

When he chose to direct the movie, Jensen wanted to make sure he had the perfect lead actress for it. The auditions took way more time than they’d planned; he had looked and looked, calling back the women he thought weren’t too bad and might work, but none of them were right, and soon there was no one left to audition. 

That was when he saw you.

You weren’t even auditioning for the role; you weren’t even an actress! You were working behind the cameras, in the sound department, to be precise. Your job was to make sure the mics and mic packs were working. You had to get to the studio ahead of the others and set up the rooms before the auditions. You tested the speakers and the mics, to be sure everything was working properly, before connecting everything into your console so you could properly record the screen tests. 

One day Jensen was early and he got a glimpse of you working, and out of nowhere, walked over to you and gave you a script. 

“Try it.” He said simply, with a soft smile.

You thought it was a joke, so you played along and read the script. You knew who Jensen Ackles was, of course, you were quite the fan. So part of you also wanted to impress him, and well…the motivation to impress must have worked, because the next thing you knew, you were cast in the leading role.

Your first role. You were completely new to the acting industry. And your new job was way more stressful than you could have imagined when you accepted it excitedly.

When you met him, Jensen was a nice guy. Patient. Encouraging. But as the spicier scenes arrived, something changed. They stressed you out, you felt like he was watching your every move, and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry, hide, run away from him or literally just grab hold of him and start making out with him. 

Of course he was disappointed. He spent so much time, money and energy on you, and now you were messing everything up.

And you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say sorry.

After the break, Jensen came back and sat back in his director’s chair. He was wearing a baseball hat now, and it shaded his eyes, making his features look even more dominant. Another shiver ran over your whole body as you pictured him in the love scene instead of Jacob. There was nothing wrong with Jacob, he was cute. But you wondered…if you pictured Jensen with you in the scene when the cameras were rolling, would that make things easier, smoother? 

It was worth a try. 

You were back on your mark before he even had the time to call the scene. You were more than ready to show him it had been a good idea to hire you. You glanced in his direction, waiting for him to say action.

“We’re skipping this scene, it doesn’t work at all.” Jensen said brusquely.

You felt a sharp pain in your gut and immediately started chewing on your bottom lip. Of course. Because of you, he now had to change the whole scene. 

“Let’s go to act 2, scene 4.”

Filming went okay for the rest of the day. You messed up a couple of other takes and had to redo it, but luckily, your fellow cast members were kind and patient. Still, you couldn’t get Jensen’s sharp voice, telling you to stop messing up the scenes, out of your head. Even now that you were in your trailer, long after shooting was over, you could still hear it echo. 

Filming had lasted until the sun was down, and then you did a few night shoot scenes, and work was over.

Laying down on the bed in your trailer, you chewed absently on your lollipop as you read the script over and over again. By now, you knew it all by heart. All you had to do was to feel it, show it, like it was real. Closing your eyes, you imagined your co-star in front of you. You reached out a hand, like he was really with you, and slowly stroked his cheek. 

“She can’t know you’re here.”

Your thumb caresses lower on his face until it reaches his lips. There, you look, stare, want more, so you slip your thumb through his parted lips.

“She won’t if we’re quick,” you whisper, your face getting closer. It’s warm, his breath on your face, and a small smile stretches your lips. 

You can see Jacob’s brown eyes and curly hair in front of you. You blink, your thumb leaves his mouth to be replaced by your lips. There, the kiss starts slowly, like you want to explore his mouth, get familiar with its shape, tastes and feel.

But quickly, his hands get lost on your body, he grabs your waist, pulls you closer to him. Your lips part, you breathe in the same air as him, and your tongue pokes in. You know you’re not supposed to kiss with tongue, it’s an unspoken rule in the movie industry. But the kiss needs to be passionate, and Jacob doesn’t seem to mind as he kisses back the same. Then, everything speeds up. You get pinned to the wall forcefully, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth as he steps back. You blink.

Jacob’s brown eyes are now a dark green, almost black. His curly hair is no more, it’s now straight, short, but long enough to be tossed to the side and pulled if necessary. And instead of a hairless chin, there’s a delicious copper color scruff on the lower part of his face.

“Jensen…” You can’t help but moan, all air exiting your lungs.

That was when your phone decided to ring, bringing you back to reality. Startled, you sat up quickly and looked around. Another ding reminded you where you were and what was happening, so you rushed to the table to grab your phone. 

The screen lit up with unread texts and your heart sank with anxiety. They were all from Jensen.

We need to talk

Meet me on set now

Stress and fear were beating strong in your head when you arrived on the dark, empty set. Out of breath from having run there, you bent down, trying to get oxygen into your lungs. You’d been so worried about what your director wanted, you’d left without thinking about the kind of things most humans would have. Like taking your phone with you, instead of setting it back down on the table and bolting.

“Took you some time,” a rough, angry voice said in the distance. Since the set was closed for the night, there weren't many lights on. It took you some time to figure out where he was, and when you finally reached him, you froze in front of him, your mind going blank.

Jensen was sitting on the metallic stairs that were part of the structure to adjust the spotlights on the ceiling. His right arm was leaning on the railing, his fist tensed and resting near his chin. His other arm was draped over his knee. He was still wearing the same clothes, the baseball hat slightly askew on his head, but this time it wasn't hiding his eyes.

There was a dark fire burning in them.

“I’m so sorry,” you hastened to say, still out of breath. You hadn't noticed you still had the lollipop in your mouth until you spoke. When you realized, you hurried to take it out and hide it behind your back.

“Sorry. You’re sorry a lot,” Jensen said, still not moving from his position. A painful lump formed in your throat at how intimidating he was and how hard it was to look him in the eyes. You opened your mouth to apologize again, but he was faster. Now on his feet, Jensen sprang quickly towards you.

By reflex, you lowered your head immediately. But that seemed to annoy him, as you could hear him clicking his tongue disapprovingly above you. It made you want to be even smaller.

“You have no idea,” he scoffed, and you fought the need to lift your head and look at him to get answers. “No idea what you’re doing.” Like a predator, he started circling your frame. Whenever he looked, it burned and left goosebumps on your skin.

“I…don’t understand.” You swallowed hard and bit your lip anxiously.

“This.” His voice stopped in front of you. The tone he used for that single word managed to make you stop breathing and the lollipop fell from your hand. “How you bite your lips when you’re shy or anxious. How you play with your hair, your eyes wide and clueless. How you always have a finger in your mouth.” 

As he was speaking, you felt something on your chin that forced you to lift your head. You followed the movement without any resistance and ended up meeting his eyes. God, your legs got so wobbly, you nearly collapsed at his feet. 

“How you never look me in the eyes and always keep your head bent submissively." 

Jensen let go of your chin, but you didn’t move. As though in a trance, you kept staring, your lips parted and your eyes teary. But it was not because you were sad or afraid. You were simply, and completely, lost in him. 

“You’re so innocent, it’s insane. You ran here immediately, when I asked you to, didn't even bother putting on pants.” Each of his words were slow, like he wanted you to understand them perfectly.

His last sentence brought you back to earth and you broke eye contact to look down and see what you were wearing. Shame burned like a slap in your face when you realized he was right.

You were still dressed for sleep. You were still wearing your version of pajamas - just an oversized shirt and panties.

Crap. Fuck.

You were about to apologize, your head still bowed, when you realized you were looking at something you'd seen before.

It was dark in the studio. But there was no mistaking it. The bump you'd seen earlier, pushing out the front of his jeans, was back. 

It took some time for his words to make their way into your brain. After all, like he said, you were acting innocent, naive, a bit slow, even.

But not stupid. 

You'd finally done the math in your mind, and figured things out. When you lifted your head again, it was to meet his eyes. 

And this time, you didn’t look away.

“I’m turning you on,” you said on an exhale, the truth of the situation sending waves of heat down your body. No words left his mouth, but you didn’t need to hear his answer. The way his face darkened, his eyes roaming your body, was his way of telling you that you were right, and that he felt no shame because of it. 

“I didn’t think you had the guts to say it out loud.” Jensen said as he took a step closer to you. By reflex, you stepped back, your eyes still not leaving his.

“I don’t…do it on purpose, I’m sorry,” you offered, stepping back again as he moved closer to you. 

All you wanted in that moment was to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You wanted to live out everything you'd imagined all those nights when you couldn’t sleep because you were thinking too much about him. But still, something inside you was holding back.

“Exactly,” he answered, lowering his head. You could barely see his eyes under the hat. He kept walking towards you and you kept walking backwards until you ended up moving beyond the lights to a spot that was so dark by contrast, that all you could see was an abstract, scary shade advancing towards you. 

“You don’t even do it on purpose.” He continued. His voice sounded closer than he looked, so you stepped back quicker.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and finally, you were in another pool of light. 

But he wasn’t.

Glancing all around you, you strained your eyes, trying to see through the dark areas of the stage, but it was impossible with the strong light shining down on you. All you could see was your feet, and the area just to your left, where the set was still decorated for the bedroom scene you hadn't been able to get through.

Having been too focused on figuring out where Jensen was coming from in the darkness around you, you hadn’t immediately noticed where he was leading you.

“You need to pay more attention, Y/n. And realise how much of a fucking tease you are.”

His voice echoed all around you, so of course, you stepped back towards the light, the whole situation making you feel equally scared and incredibly horny. 

“I’m sorry!” You repeated, biting your lips, your hand near your mouth like somehow, biting every part of your body could help you. 

That was when your back hit a wall. Or, at least, you thought it was a wall at first. Had to be. But then, you could feel it move behind you, rising and falling. The warmth of it hit next, and finally, the soft breath lifting your hair with each exhale. 

“Stop. Being. Sorry.”

Your whole body froze as you felt how tense his body was behind you. The tension was so strong, it was overpowering the room, and it was controlling you. Without thinking, you melted into his body, and your whole demeanor changed. “Why don’t you make me, Mister Ackles?”

A growl answered your challenge. “I knew it.”

And just like that, you were done resisting.

Hands landed on your hips, fingers digging into the skin barely covered by your shirt. He spun you around in his arms so you were facing him. You placed both hands on his chest, and barely lifting your head, you looked up teasingly through your lashes. “Are you done talking now?”

“I knew you were a fucking tease.” 

And with that, a smile stretched across Jensen's lips. But you couldn’t admire it for very long, because within a second of that smile, his mouth was on yours for a breathtaking kiss. You felt the air leave your lungs as you kissed him back immediately. 

His hands gripped your hips impossibly tight, before he let go to slip them under your shirt, his fingers immediately caressing your skin, discovering the new territory. He touched you everywhere, exploring your body as though he couldn't get enough. 

After a few moments of admiring you with his touch, his hands dropped back to your ass, and he squeezed it. Still kissing you, Jensen couldn’t use words, but you felt how he exhaled against your mouth, the way his chest rose and fell heavily, his hands almost shaking on your body. 

He was holding back.

Breaking the kiss, Jensen placed his forehead on yours and let a sigh escape his lips.

“We… We shouldn’t do that…”

“Do what,” you panted. You couldn't decide if you wanted to stare at his mouth or stay caught in his gaze, “we’re already doing it.”

“We can’t…fuck, we can't be caught,” he insisted. His mouth was saying one thing, but his body was saying the complete opposite as he pressed himself even closer to you, his hands tightening their grip on your ass cheeks.

“We won’t get caught if we stay quiet.” Brushing your teeth against his lower lip, you stepped forward forcing him to step back until his legs met the bed. The same bed you had to do your sex scene on. What an irony. 

“So, if you could stop talking and fuck me already, it would be done faster.”

Hearing those words from your lips seemed to turn a switch in Jensen. If he hadn't been completely sure at first about what you were doing, now all hesitations and worries were gone. You didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes grew darker, you could see pure hunger lurking in his pupils as he looked you up and down. And without delay, Jensen let his hands slip under your shirt, pulling it over your head and leaving you standing in front of him in only your panties.

No words left his mouth as he continued to admire you, and you felt a boost of confidence rising in you. It had been so long since someone looked at you that way, with so much need and desire. Indeed, you weren't sure if anyone ever truly had. 

It felt good, freeing, to feel sexy and desired by a man such as him. You felt like you had all the power in the world. If you wanted, you were sure you could make him kneel in front of you, and that was an exciting thought.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jensen growled, his eyes not getting enough of you. His hands were already in your underwear, trying to get rid of that last piece of clothing separating him from the full view of you.

“I know.” You said in response to his compliment.

It was out of your mouth before you could think twice about it. Never before had you felt so confident in yourself. It felt so good. 

You nodded towards him. “Now. I believe I’m the only one naked.”

“Honey, you’re not naked yet,” He said with a smirk before his hands tore apart your underwear. You gasped, surprised at his strength, and your shyness returned for only a brief moment. 

“God. If only you knew how bad I’ve been wanting this." he groaned.

One blink. Two blinks. You were back, focused, confident. You were hot, he desired you, just like you desired him. “Then, show me.” One finger pointed towards him, you pressed on his chest to push him softly. Jensen let himself fall back on the bed and looked up at you.

“Undress,” you commanded.

With eagerness, Jensen removed the baseball hat, throwing it somewhere into the dark surrounding you. Your eyes didn’t leave him once as he pulled his clothes off piece by piece tossing them to pile up on the floor around you, until there were none left. And just as he'd admired you earlier, you stared at him, slowly absorbing all of him.

To say he was beautiful was a weak description. Sexy wasn’t even a strong enough word to describe how he looked. He was all muscles, especially his upper torso; his shoulders and arms were thick and round with muscle. A bit lower, his stomach was soft, but you could see the shades of a six pack moving beneath. And below that, resting up between thick thighs, his cock was begging for attention.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but stare a little too long. He was big, and just imagining him inside of you had you closing your thighs together and clenching around nothing.

“Come here.” He said, his voice soft, but deep.

Jensen clearly couldn’t wait for you to do as he asked, because he grabbed your wrist to make you move forward. You placed a knee on either side of his hips and sat down on his thighs, soaking them in the process. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me?” His face was hidden against your throat and you shivered, goosebumps spreading on your body as his beard created a delicious burn on your skin. He nibbled your flesh, kissed it and marked it with his teeth. 

All you could do as he touched you everywhere with his mouth and hands was to whimper. It was so hot, your head was spinning, you felt him everywhere, like you were slowly becoming one with him. “Fuck, please,” you quickly begged. 

“Please what?” His lips curled up against your skin, his hands on your ass cheeks inviting you to grind against his thighs. You moaned again, your head thrown back to give him more access to your throat. “Tell me, what do you want?”

“Fuck,” you croaked out, your hips moving on your own now. Grinding felt good, but it wasn’t enough. It could barely scratch that itch, all you were doing was wetting his thighs more and more, and that was very humiliating. You were soaked. It didn’t help that you were straddling both his thighs, so nothing was pressed hard enough against your core. As you expressed your frustration with a whine, your body showed the same frustration by slowing down.

“What’s up baby,” Jensen whispered against your ear, his warm breath sending more shivers down your neck. “Can’t get off?” 

You answered him by stopping completely, your breathing fast and irregular. “You have to tell me. Tell me what you want?” He chuckled and suddenly, you were a few centimeters higher, something strong pressing against your core. 

A whimper of surprise left your lips as you understood; Jensen had lifted one of his legs, his foot resting on the bed frame. It allowed you to feel it now, feel the pressure, feel him between your legs. To thank him, you kissed his neck and immediately resumed your movements.

Your teeth sank into his flesh just in time to silence your voice. In this position, grinding his leg felt divine. It pressed at just the right spot, and since you'd already soaked his thigh, you could move easily. Your hips rolled without you even thinking about it, you chased it, the high, the peak, the pleasure, but it could only build up more and more and more… without getting that little explosion you were looking for.

And quickly, you were whining again.

“Don’t forget what I said,” Jensen’s voice sounded against your ear again, so rough you nearly froze. 

In your current state of your mind, with a climax that didn’t wanna come no matter how much you chased it, it was hard for you to pay attention and listen to what he was saying. It was hard to even think. But finally, you remembered that Jensen had ordered you to tell him what you wanted.

“Wanna feel you inside me, please Jensen, please, fuck me,” you begged, your voice almost pathetic, you needed it so badly. You kept begging, kissing his neck, trying everything to get what you wanted.

“I love it when you beg me.”

You couldn’t stop moving now, your hips went back and forth on his thigh relentlessly. You lost track of time. It felt like you were on his thighs, begging to be fucked, for hours now. So close but yet, so far from your release.

As you were focused on moving your hips and chasing your climax, everything moved at the same time. You were back on both his thighs, and as you ground forward again, you moved further up on his body, which had you…grinding against his cock.

The sensation was completely different. It was smaller, but his cock slid perfectly between the lips of your pussy and pressed on your clit just the right way. Jensen was half laying down to allow you this position, he was resting on his elbows, his dark eyes admiring the view and your pathetic attempts to cum. Now that you were on his cock, you felt a surge of heat pool between your legs. With this new sensation, you became even more desperate to get him inside you. He was so close.

As though reading your thoughts, Jensen only allowed you to rub against his cock a couple of times before his fingers tightened into the flesh of your hips, manipulating your body like you were just a doll, so he could place you where you wanted to be the most. 

One of his hands then left your hips, but you barely noticed it as you continued grinding down against his cock. Suddenly you felt something big pressed at your entrance. But you were so wet, it slipped inside you with almost no resistance. A loud moan left your mouth, surprise and pleasure mingling as you were impaled on his cock, letting gravity bury him to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh fuck!” You bit your lips, feeling so full it almost hurt. “You’re so big!” Pressing a hand to your lower stomach, you felt the shape of his cock under your fingers.

“I’m not all the way in yet.” Jensen said, his voice tight.

Your eyes widened, you had no time to prepare yourself before Jensen shifted slightly and pressed down on your hips, forcing his cock even deeper inside you. He pressed until you were flesh to flesh with him, until he was completely sheathed inside of you. Your vision got blurry immediately; it was too much and not enough at the same time. Your breathing cut off at the same time a long moan was about to leave your mouth.

When you got back your sight, you looked down at the man under you and finally noticed why you couldn’t breathe. A big, warm hand was placed on your mouth, skillfully muffling the sound of your moans.

“As much as I would love to hear you scream," a smirk stretched his lips and Jensen narrowed his eyes. “I can’t let anyone catch us. And you’re awfully loud for a shy, innocent lil girl, huh?”

You wanted to talk back so bad, but even if you didn’t have the hand on your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to form a coherent sentence. Because the moment he said that, Jensen moved his hips up and your eyes rolled back in your head. God, it felt so good, even your thoughts were being fucked stupid. 

“Hmmm…” You moaned under his hand.

“Hmmm…” Jensen repeated. “You can bite me if you need. But do not make a sound. Understood?”

Removing his hand, Jensen waited for your answer. Your head was still floating on a cloud, so it took some time for you to understand his order. Mouth half open, you nodded, agreeing to whatever he wanted. As long as he fucked you. That was all you wanted, all you needed.

“Good girl.”

And that was exactly what you did. When Jensen lifted your hips to allow him some room to fuck up into you, you immediately hid your face against his neck and bit down on the soft spot between his shoulder and his throat. At first, his thrusts were slow as though he was testing you. You suspected it was either to make sure you would stay silent, or because he wanted to be sure you were not in pain. After all, he was so thick and big, he stretched you so much that you did feel like you might rip in two.

But when Jensen understood there was no need to worry, that you could stay quiet and that you could take all of him, he let go.

Picking up his speed to a devastating pace he fucked up into you, his hands still on your hips inviting you to slam down each time he was deep inside of you. And each time that happened, he hit your cervix with a beautiful pain that made you bite him harder, your nails digging into his back, anything to hold back your voice.

But you were losing the battle.

After a few minutes in that position, Jensen quickly pulled you off his cock. A pathetic whimper echoed in the room and you never understood it was you, making all those little noises.

“Hold on," Jensen said soothingly, "you’ll be more comfortable like this."

It was hard to fully understand what was happening, your mind was so fogged up with pleasure and all the sensations happening at the same time. But one moment, you were sitting on top of him, and the next you were laying on your stomach, a pillow beneath your cheek and your hips slightly raised.

You didn’t know what the purpose of the pillow was until he thrusted back inside of you, bottoming out immediately. In the new position, he had no trouble moving, and didn’t wait for you to bite into the pillow, grabbing on to it with all your might, before he began moving. 

Already, his cock was going in and out of your channel, so hard, so fast, your whole body was shifting and trembling with pleasure. And without realizing it, you were slamming back against him to feel him hit as deep as possible, just to feel that sharp, pleasure-filled pain you enjoyed so much before. 

You didn’t think it could be any better, but then…

Jensen’s voice was deep, rough. He wasn’t talking. He was breathing fast and didn’t hold back his pleasure, you could hear it. Groaning, moaning, swearing.

But for him, your pleasure was more important. He wanted to hear you, even if it was muffled against the pillow. One of his hands slid under your body and between your thighs until he found what he was looking for. And the moment he pressed on it, the moment he started rubbing your clit, the pleasure exploded. 

It was too much.

With his arm wrapped around your thigh, and his fingers pressing against your clit, Jensen couldn’t go as fast as he had been, but he kept thrusting slow and deep. His fingers played with your clit, brushed it and made quick circles around it until he found the right movement and rhythm that would make you come apart. When he found it, you could hear him chuckle. Even over your own moans and with a shrill sound pounding in your ears, you could still hear him. And what you heard was Jensen, in his deep, rough voice, ordering you to cum.

It was way too much for you.

Your orgasm had been building since you started, so when it finally popped, it was without warning. Your mind went blank, your eyes rolled back, and your body shook under him. It was so intense, you were sure there were a few seconds where you simply ceased to exist.

Nothing existed.

You finally came back to yourself just in time to feel Jensen pull out of you quickly, and then hot drops of something ran down your ass. Your hearing took some time to come back fully, and there was still the echo of something shrill when you turned your head back to look over your shoulder.

Jensen was on his knees between your legs, his hand on his half hard cock. There was cum dripping down his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind as his eyes were closed and his head bent back a little. His climax was probably as strong as yours.

It took some time to catch your breath. And then, the realization of what happened hit you like a ton of bricks. Panic seized you, you tried to get on your feet quickly but tripped and fell back on the bed.

“Hey, hey,” Jensen was immediately beside you, helping you lay back down on the bed. “Don’t get up too fast. That was fucking intense, you might still be light headed.” 

You shook your head. “I… I have to leave…” You tried to get up again, but Jensen stopped you. Not able to meet his eyes, you looked to the right, staring at nothing but the endless darkness of the set.

Jensen sighed and rubbed your arm softly. His hand was warm and it felt good against your skin. You didn’t feel it right now, but you knew you would be sore tomorrow. 

“Please, don’t leave.” 

Surprised to hear that, especially after what you just did, you turned your head and looked at him with big teary eyes. 

“I know what we did was not professional.” He said softly.

You nodded and sniffed, feeling yourself get all flustered the more you looked at him. But not because he was intimidating, his voice was gentle.

It was the softest he'd been since you'd started working with him.

You shook your head. “You’re my boss…we can’t…” 

“I know.” He agreed simply.

Feeling slightly better, you sat down but stayed on the bed. Since it was still hard to look at him, you stared at your hands and played with your fingers. 

“But Y/n…” 

You looked up at him again, feeling so many things at the same time. You were scared of what would happen now. Scared because all you wanted was to do it again. Scared, but also hopeful and good. You felt so good. The afterglow of the amazing sex was still there and very hard to ignore. 

“I meant it when I hired you. You are beautiful.” Jensen said with a soft smile.

A shy, answering smile appeared on your face at the compliment, but your eyes stayed sad. 

“That’s why, when I saw you," he continued, "I…I knew I'd finally found the lead for the movie. You were exactly how I pictured her. And when I made you audition, the joy I felt seeing that you could act? Well, was perfect."

"But…” Pausing, Jensen sighed again. He seemed at war with himself as he tried to explain. You took his hand in yours to encourage him to continue. 

“I started falling for you in a way I knew I shouldn’t.” He shrugged and looked away, his fingers playing with yours now. “And then came the sex scene and I was just. You were doing amazing, but I was so jealous. And pissed. Because I couldn’t help but feel aroused watching you make out. So out of both of us, it's really me that's not being professional. Your scenes were fine, I just…wanted to see you do them again and again. And I kept picturing me-”

“Jensen." You interrupted.

Your head was spinning with everything that was happening. What he just said - it was a confession. You had no idea how a man like him could fall for you, but you knew one thing. 

You were falling for him too.

“I don’t know what to do,” his hand left yours to be placed against his face in defeat. “I want you. But also, the movie…we can’t do that.”

“I…” You started, your heart beating nervously with what you were about to say. It could be a very bad idea, but for now, it seemed like the best. 

" We're almost done filming, and after the movie is complete, you won’t be my boss anymore, so…”

Jensen looked at you with interest in his eyes. “So…it wouldn't be…”

"...wrong." You finished for him. “And in the meantime, we could just call this…” You pointed to yourself and then to him, “...personal training?” 

You grinned playfully. “After all, you just helped me find my inner mistress. I think next time we shoot the scene will be a good one.”

Relief seemed to wash over Jensen’s face at your proposition. “You don’t need me to practice, you have lots of talent, Y/n. A lot.”

Heat invaded your face again at his wonderful compliments. You were not used to that “Not that good. So yeah, I’m gonna need that training. Unless you don’t want to?”

The moment you said that, his eyes grew two shades darker. “Oh, I do want to. Come on, let’s go to my trailer, we’ll be more comfortable…ah…rehearsing more of your scenes.”

“Alright. Let me just find my shirt, since you destroyed my panties.” Thinking about how he ripped the fabric apart made you clench your thighs, your face getting warmer.

“I don’t think you can wait that long,” Jensen said as he helped you get up on your feet. He grabbed the bed sheet to wrap it around you. “And neither can I.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Jensen Ackles tag list: @sexyvixen7 @nitnat6245 @sacriceria @akshi8278 @thoughts-and-funnies @stixnstripesworld @nancymcl @jensendreamland  @fiftyshadesgrl @happyt0exist @deans-spinster-witch​

[whoawardwinchester]

Master List

Updated 7.9.24

A Winchester Chronicle

SEASON 4 (The one I'm starting with for this Supernatural/Fictional life Fanfic):

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Chapter 2: "Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester."

Chapter 3: "In the beginning" smut

Chapter 4: "Metamorphosis"

Chapter 5: "Monster Movie" smut

Chapter 6: "Yellow Fever" smut

Chapter 7: "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester" smut

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine… Stealing Candles For Dean’s Birthday Pie

Pairing: Dean x Sister!reader (platonic)

Square: Impala @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 895

Warnings: theft, implied arrest, a little angst, Dean being adorkable, fluff!

A/N: Happy Birthday, Dean! This is just random fluff. Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo. Enjoy!

_____

"I don't wanna talk about it, Dean." You mumbled as you joined him in the Impala. 

You could feel your big brother's eyes boring into you and you huffed out a breath as you buckled up your seat belt. Getting picked up from the police station for shoplifting and having to call Dean to bail you out was the complete opposite of what you were planning for tonight. 

It was supposed to be a surprise and a nice one. 

Dean started the engine so the heat blasted in your face and you could hear the lego pieces, that the three of you shoved through the vents when you were younger, rattling in the wind that warmed your cheeks. There was snow falling heavily on the windshield and the thick silence was cut by the wipers sliding over the glass every few seconds. While you just sat there, in the parking lot, until Dean was calm enough to speak. 

"Dammit, Y/N," he growled and hit the steering wheel with an open palm, "What the hell were you thinking?!" 

You shrugged and sniffled from the brief walk to the car in the cold. The snowflakes in your hair melted and wet the strands so some straggly hairs stuck to your cheeks. 

It was Dean’s birthday and Sam was counting on you to get the candles for the pie he was attempting to make in the motel microwave.

You hung your head and gripped the excess jean material on your thighs, the jeans didn’t fit well, they were Dean’s hand-me-downs. You often got his clothes before Sam since girls matured and grew faster than boys. Then your jeans went to Sam when you grew out of them so you couldn’t cut them to length and instead rolled up each leg so that a heavy cuff sat on top of each boot. Snow always got into the top of the cuff this time of year and soaked through the layers, especially when the heat in the car started to melt it. The tips of your fingers grew numb with the longer and tighter you held the fabric between them. 

If only your father let you run a credit card scam of your own, except he said there was no point because Dean had one and anything you needed you could ask him for. And you were underage so you'd need a fake ID too and the only one of those you had were school IDs. Nobody would believe you were over eighteen anyways. You just turned thirteen, only a year older than little Sammy, and you looked it. 

"It's your birthday," you muttered and side-eyed your brother. "I couldn't afford the stupid candles." 

His expression softened, "You could've asked me. That’s what I’m here for.” 

You shrugged, "Would've ruined the surprise." 

"Y/N, do you really think I had no idea what you and Sam have been planning for the past week? Subtly is not your strong suit, kiddo.” He chuckled. 

"I'm sorry." You shrugged and kicked your boots together, trying to knock off the snow that hadn’t melted into your pant cuffs yet. 

"It's okay,” Dean said and reached over to tousle up your hair. 

You whined and shoved away his arm. Dean laughed at the frown you wore as you fixed your hair. 

“Are you gonna tell dad?” You asked, nervously gripping your jeans again and chewing on your bottom lip. 

You’d seen the amount of trouble Dean had gotten into with John growing up and you didn’t want any of it. You didn’t have the strength Dean had when it came to standing up to him. Except Dean never talked back, he just took all of his soldier up crap and kept going. You didn’t know how he did it. 

He was different when your father was gone, he was lighter and way more fun. He’d joke around and let you get away with almost anything so long as you flashed him a smile. All Dean ever wanted was for you and Sammy to be happy and when you were, so was he.

“Hmmm,” he pretended to think about it as he made you sweat, “Nah, it can be our little secret.” You matched his smirk. “But the next time you kick off your boots in my car, you get last dibs on the shower for a week.” 

“Ew, gross!” You scrunched up your face and pouted. Your brothers always made a mess of the motel bathroom with wet towels thrown everywhere, toothpaste and hair in the sink, not to mention the misadventures of aiming at the toilet. How hard was it really?! Not to mention the amount of times you’d fallen in because they couldn’t grasp the concept of putting the seat back down. “But-“ 

Dean cut you off talking to the Impala and patting the dash, “Sh-sh… It’s okay, Baby, she didn’t mean it.” 

“Are you done, dork?” You tried to hide your amusement and raised your eyebrows at him. 

He snorted and nodded as he shifted the car into drive, “Mhm.” 

“Happy Birthday, Dean.” You said, unbuckling your seat belt and sliding across the bench seat to give him a hug when he stopped at the light. “…You know, I love you. Right?” 

“I know,” Dean sighed into your hair and hugged you back even as the light turned green. “Love you, too, kiddo.” 

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[winchesterfanatic1967]

Supernatural Dean Winchester Mix Bingo

I would just like to say this isn’t my square and I would like to give credit to whoever made it! Send in your requests for which box you would like and I will update everyone on which ones are taken. Starting Monday 3/20 I will post one request a day! Again if you would like to be a part of my taglist please let me know ❤️

[holylulusworld]

Any fandom fluff bingo masterlist

Preview for the upcoming fics to fill the squares.

Square 1: ??? (Dean Winchester? x fem!Reader): Dislocated joint

Square 2: How deep is your love? (Dean Winchester x Reader): First date

Square 3: ??? (Bucky Barnes x Physiotherapist!Reader): Chronic pain

Square 4: ??? (Mafia!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Mafia!Bucky Barnes): "We have chickens."

Square 5: Cookies (Dean Winchester x fem!Reader): Free space

Square 6: ??? (??? x fem!Reader): Playground

Square 7: ??? (Alpha??? x Omega(fem)!Reader): Claiming marks

Square 8: ??? (??? x fem!Reader): The Olive Theory

Square 9: Dishonored (Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader): "I never loved you."

Find all other Bingos and Special Events here: Special Events  

[jacklesversebingo]

Photo Sources (X, X)

We in the JAcklesverse are somewhat obsessed with Jensen and the characters he portrays, and we are not sorry about it.

If you, too, are obsessed with Mr. Ackles, treat yourself by visiting the @jacklesversebingo blog.

The very talented creatives who joined the bingo have created over one hundred fan works! Do you enjoy angst, fluff, smut, crack, or a combination of everything? It's all located in one place for your convenience.

Show these fantastic authors and creators some love by commenting and reblogging their work. Be sure to check out their blogs, too, for additional masterpieces.

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone \ @alternativeprincess94 \ @deadlydivergentgirl \ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior \ @deanbrainrotwritings

@deaneverafterstories \ @deanwanddamons \ @enigmalynne \ @foxyjwls007 \ @holylulusworld

@impala-dreamer \ @impalaimagining \ @jensengirl83 \ @julesthequirky \ @justagirlinafandomworld

@k-slla \ @kazsrm67 \ @kickingitwithkirk \ @melbelle45 \ @minefield-of-a-ninja

@nescaveckwriter \ @pink-sparkly-witch \ @princessmisery666-library \ @sam-is-my-safe-word \ @smellingofpoetry

@somthing-blue \ @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes \ @spnexploration \ @talltalesandbedtimestories \ @torn-and-frayed

@wayward-dreamer \ @winchester-girl67 \ @winchester19-67

[queen-of-deans-booty]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.”

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

x

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

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Baby It's Cold Outside

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

A freak snow storm traps you and Sam in your motel room for the night so there’s only one thing for it, an evening of peace and quiet

Warnings: little bit spicy but not really full on smut, established relationship, around season 3, partial nudity, fluff, ok actually this is kind of smutty so SMUT

WC: 1.5k

Square Filled: Blizzard @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

“Well, it looks like we’re not going anywhere tonight.” Sam shut the flimsy motel curtains, blocking your view of the frankly violent blizzard occurring right outside. 

“That’s just great.” You moaned, flopping back onto the cheap bed, dropping your already packed duffle bag off the side. The shaggy haired man just chuckled and kicked off his boots, taking a seat beside you.

“It can’t be that bad being stuck here with me.” His pink lips turned up in an adorable smile, his dimples becoming prominent. A large hand cupped your full cheek and rolled over so he could rest his weight on his other hand, his lean body fitting between your soft thighs.

Your face flamed as you looked up at him, watching as the hazel in his eyes disappeared behind a haze of lust. “I could think of better things to do.” Your arms wound around his neck, pulling his face towards you.

“Oh? And what would that include?” The tip of his round nose brushed against yours, his breath fanning over your lips. From this close, you could see the small imperfections on his face that only served to make the young hunter even more beautiful. You could feel him growing hard against your thigh, the heat of him dangerously close to your core.

Silence settled over you like a comforting blanket. The orange glow of the streetlamp outside your room provided a comforting glow against the grey wash of the snow. Sam’s hair fell in front of his face and with a smooth motion, you brushed it back, your thumb gently caressing his clean shaven cheek. “I think that I should get undressed…” You started, your touch slowly moving downwards, lightly brushing each button of his flannel, feeling the strong chest hidden beneath only a couple layers of fabric.

“Keep going.” He was nosing at your neck now, lips tracing the trail of dark bruises he had left on your skin a few days before. You barely suppressed a gasp as he nibbled on a particularly sensitive mark right behind your ear.

“And then, once I’m completely naked, you should get naked too.” You could feel the way his lips turned up in a devilish smirk against your skin. He rested more of his weight on top of you, pinning your wide hips to the mattress, his other hand cupping one of your thighs.

“What then?” His voice dropped an octave, and you knew he was waiting for you to give your consent, to tell him to let loose and ravage you properly.

Your fingers slipped up into his shirt and caressed his abs, preening as they tightened beneath your palm. “Once you’re completely bare, perfect skin and cock on display for me, I want you to…” Your lips connected with his ear in a delicate peck before your tongue darted out and licked at the lobe. Sam shuttered above you, his thin hips bucking into yours. “Get in the shower cause you stink like ghoul.” And with a mighty shove, you pushed him off of you and he rolled to the floor.

There was a grunt, not of pain but more of annoyance, and then a head of messy brown hair popped up on the other side of the mattress. “That was mean.” He pouted but you just rolled your eyes.

“And you stink, go shower.” He huffed, clearly peeved about you working him up only to tell him to take a shower, yet he complied anyway. With a groan, the tall man stood up from the carpeted floor and began a very very slow walk to the bathroom.

His plaid came off first, quickly followed by his dark undershirt, letting you get a good look at his tanned, muscular back. Heat pooled in your already ruined panties and you knew that if he didn’t smell so awful from the hunt earlier that day, you would have happily joined him in the cramped shower. You heard the clink of his belt buckle.

You watched, hypnotised, as the leather was slowly pulled through the loops of his jeans, the denim sagging even more with every loop the belt moved through, exposing the top of his Saxx boxers. You bit down on your bottom lip as his jeans slipped down his powerful legs, his boxers quickly falling to the ground. 

As he walked away, you could see flashes of his cock bouncing in time with his strides. “Damn you Winchester.” You muttered to yourself, firmly turning away from your boyfriend to focus on the small sliver of window that wasn’t covered by the white curtains. You slipped from the bed and looked out onto the world.

Sam was right, snow was coming down from dark clouds quickly and with a surprising amount of force. Your truck which was parked just outside was already covered in a layer of white at least a couple inches thick. The wind screamed just outside, making the glass of the window wobble in its frame. 

Yet you smiled. Maybe this could be good for you both, it had been a very long time, if ever, that you had any much needed time to yourselves. With the desperate search for a way to break Dean’s deal and dealing with the fallout of John’s death, you needed a vacation.

With a quick text to Bobby and Dean, assuring them that you were fine, just trapped for the evening, you shut off both yours and Sam’s phones. Quickly, you stripped off your dirty clothes and pulled on a shirt from his bag before pulling all of the sheets and blankets from the bed and piled them on the couch.

By the time you heard the shower shut off, you had created a blanket fort just large enough for you both, complete with the motel radio and a flashlight that you covered with a piece of fabric, dousing the small area in a dim glow. 

“Princess?” Sam’s confused tone made you smile as you poked your head up and out of the blankets. He had pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, his hair, though mostly dry, still had some droplets of water clinging to the ends. Your eyes followed a particularly large drop as it fell from one of the long strands and rolled down the front of his body until it reached the neatly timed patch of hair that peaked out over his underwear.

“I’m right here, handsome.” You answered, desperately trying to keep your voice level. You wanted at least an hour of just nice cuddling before your boyfriend wrecked you. His kaleidoscope eyes softened as they landed on you and like a dog following their master, he strode across the room, keen to wrap you up in his arms.

There was a brief struggle as he fit his long limbs into the fragile structure but soon, his back was propped up against the couch cushions, his legs stretched out in front of him as you lay on his lap, ear firmly pressed against his chest, listening to the strong beating of his heart. 

Large hands skimmed your back beneath your shirt, holding you as close as he could. Your own hands held his ribs, feeling the way he inhaled and exhaled, holding tight like he was your lifeline. “This was a great idea.” He murmured into your hair.

Sighing, you glanced up at him. “I’m glad you think so, it’s even better now that you don’t smell like you crawled through the sewer.” There was a slight hitch in his breath and you could tell he wanted to retort something sassy but instead he just smiled against the top of your head.

“You know what would make this even better?” There was a teasing tone to his voice that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“What’s that?” You expected him to respond in a similar manner to your own teasing from earlier but Sam always had a trick up his sleeve.

“If you were sitting on my cock, keeping me nice and warm while we watch the snow fall.” A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it. And he laughed heartily, shaking your body with the force. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” He said between chuckles.

“Yeah you could.” It was your turn to pout now.

“You’re right but it was pretty funny.” You glared at him, face set with determination. Suddenly, your cold hands were in his boxers, gripping his considerable length. Sam hissed at both the coldness of your skin and the feel of you finally touching him where he needed you.

“I guess I should prove you wrong though. Just cuddling is so much better than cock warming.” You rocked forward onto your knees which were planted by his hips, and guided him back to your entrance.

“Go on princess, prove me wrong.” He growled, indulging your challenge. You huffed and sat down, back arching almost painfully as you struggled to take him fully. “Fuck.” Sam groaned. His jaw was locked, the muscles working over as he let you do what you wanted to him.

“S-see, just -shit- cuddling is better.” Your plump body trembled on top of him as he threw his head back, exposing his long neck to your hungry lips.

“I can see your point now.”

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Castiel

Angel!Castiel x Hunter!gn!Reader, “Surprise Me”, Ch. 2, rated T (currently)

Dean

Vampire!Dean x Girlfriend!Female!Reader, Modern AU, rated E for blood drinking and smut

RPF

Actor!Jensen x Actor!Female!Reader, Spn AU (Canon Divergent), Strangers to Friends to Lovers, rated E for smut

Dark Angel

Alec McDowell x Bartrender!gn!Reader, “Crush” series, meet ugly, roommates, rated M or E for implied or eventual smut

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Hunter!Psychic!Sam x Bar Owner!Psychic!Female!Reader, Bar AU, Strangers to Lovers, Canon Divergent, rated M or Em for implied or eventual smut

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Destiel x Reader, “Two Men and a Virgin”, Neighbors AU,

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Soldier Boy ficlet, rated M for discussion of being a camboy

Request (Prize from @spnfanficpond)

Dean/Ketch/Gadreel and Emma fic, Modern AU, rated M for hot naked body description🤤, Daddy/Fluff fic

[imagineteamfreewill]

Crowned

Title: Crowned

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Whipping, brief language, slight angst, mostly fluff

Square Filled: Secret Relationship

Summary: Y/N is a castle kitchen maid in Lawrence, where Prince Samuel is scheduled to ascend to the throne on Christmas Eve. The extra work takes a heavy toll on her, but there’s something—or someone—else making it an even more eventful season for her.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​). As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and supporting me in so many ways. I hope everyone has a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season with their loved ones! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

The village always bustled with activity as you neared the winter solstice, but this year even more so. The prince’s coronation was scheduled for Christmas Eve, which meant in addition to the usual preparations, everyone was getting ready for what was promised to be the grandest event the castle had ever had. Even you were mildly excited for what was to come, and normally you hated your job in the kitchens. 

“Y/N! Where did you put those eggs, girl?”

You sighed as you kneaded the dough on the table in front of you. The head baker had given you the task of making the braided loaves for the castle’s coronation feast. They were one of the traditional dishes that the prince had requested, so they had to be perfect. You’d been mixing, kneading, braiding, and baking from sunup to sundown most days, and when you weren’t working by the ovens, you were out gathering more supplies. She’d sent you to get eggs from Farmer Mills that morning and for milk from Farmer Singer the morning prior. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you worked, it never seemed to be enough. It felt like she’d been harping on you and critiquing your baking every second of every day. You were deciding between throwing something at her or crying. Maybe both.

“They’re with the butter, ma’am,” you called back, holding in the retort you wanted to tack onto the end. Her shrill voice was like a knife and you’d been on the verge of a blinding headache for three hours now. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need to beg her to send you home to rest. She probably wouldn’t agree.

“Are you daft? Come here!”

You winced, pausing mid-knead. That wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, you wiped your hands on the apron tied over your shift and made your way around the other long table. The head baker was in the back room, and as you passed by the other kitchen girls, they all gave you pitying looks of various degrees. You were the newest in the castle, having just started a few months ago after seeking refuge from a neighboring kingdom, which meant you got the brunt of all her anger and stress. Unfortunately for you, her anger and stress were at an all-time high given the upcoming feasts.

“Ma’am?” you asked, standing in the doorway to the makeshift storeroom.

“Come here,” she ordered, and you obediently stepped closer. “Where are the eggs?”

Turning towards where you’d set down the basket, you said, “They are—” You stopped mid-sentence. The basket had disappeared, as had the eggs. “They were there, Ma’am, I promise you. I put them next to the butter as soon as I got back.”

“Well, they’re not there now, wench, so what will you do now?”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling in your eyes. You’d be punished for this. “I’ll go to Farmer Mills’ straightway and fetch more, ma’am.”

“That’ll be comin’ out of your pay. Give me your hand.”

The head baker reached for her whip and struck it across your knuckles as soon as you’d extended your arm. Knowing better than to cry out, you bit down on your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut right as the whip lashed across the back of your hand again. Your skin felt warm where the blood welled up.

Three more lashes and you were free. You darted out of the storeroom and grabbed your cloak from the peg on the wall, wrapping it around your shoulders as quickly as you could. One of the other kitchen girls, Anna, was waiting for you by the door. She wrapped a clean cloth around your hand without a word, then slipped a few coins into the pocket of your apron. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shook her head and gently nudged you out of the kitchen and into the bitter cold.

You took the shortest route from the castle to the farm on the edge of the castle village. Jody’s family had farmed the land for decades. The land had been in her husband’s family since he was a young boy, and you’d become friends with her shortly after they’d married. She was kind and she always made sure you had the best. You hoped now that your friendship would help you procure the eggs you needed during the busiest time of year.

The streets were fairly empty for noontime, but you stuck to the edges of the paths, leaving room for the tradesmen and their wives, the knights, and the ladies that milled about, looking for someone upon which to bestow their Christmas generosity. Boughs of holly decorated the windows and their sills, and the red berries stuck amongst them added festive cheer to the otherwise dreary winter. Candles were already burning in the windows in an attempt to ward off the gray-tinged darkness that threatened each precious minute of daylight until the solstice. The coming winter promised to be a harsh one, but the hope of the evergreens loosened the tight knot of fear in your chest. Christmas was coming, and with it there would be rest and time for celebrations of your own. You’d never attended a servant’s dinner, and Sam would be a king. You knew that to be intimately true, more so than most, especially in the depths of the kitchens.

“My lady?”

A hand on your arm made you turn, and you almost stumbled when you met familiar eyes.

“Samuel,” you murmured, immediately smiling wide. Your cheeks felt warm even despite the cold and you glanced around, hoping no one would notice you talking to him.

He was dressed plainly, in a gray wool cloak drawn up over his head and tied securely around his shoulders, a long brown tunic that you were certain you’d seen before in the squire’s closet, and a pair of leather boots. Sam looked every part a common man, and your heart swelled with giddiness.

“What are you doing here? Someone could see you!” you whispered, though you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled him under the eaves of a cobbler’s shop, out of the snow and away from prying eyes. The cobbler was deaf, and after you acknowledged him with a polite wave, he went back to his work.

“I was tending to my horse when I saw you leave. I have something for you,” Sam replied. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. A thrill went through you when his hands brushed yours as he placed a parchment-wrapped bundle into your hands. He didn’t seem to notice your bandage, nor did he see the blood that had soaked through it.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Open it.”

Hesitant, you began to carefully unwrap the brown parchment. It fell to the ground and was instantly soaked with snow, but you could only gasp and marvel at the fabric in your hands. The dress shimmered in the winter sun, sparkling as the weak light hit it. You’d never seen something so beautiful, and you’d certainly never owned anything like it. The fabric felt lighter than air and as you ran your fingers over it, you held your breath, just in case you might blow it away. Certainly, none of the other kitchen maids or servant girls owned something like this. Not even the finest lady in all of Lawrence owned a dress as beautiful. You weren’t even sure if the royals in your home country had even seen something so fine.

“Samuel,” you finally murmured, and you regarded him with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can, my love.”

His words warmed you from the inside out and you ducked your head, hiding the bashful smile he always pulled from you. “I have no place to wear a dress like this, and Ma’am will surely find out…”

“Come to my coronation.”

Your head snapped up and the smile fell at the seriousness of his request. “What?”

“Come to my coronation,” he repeated. Sam reached out and brushed hair behind your ear. His touch was warm, a welcome relief from the winter chill, but you were too shocked to register it.

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s not proper for a kitchen maid to attend a royal event of any kind. It’s forbidden. If I did, Ma’am would—”

“It’s my coronation. Nothing is forbidden if I say it isn’t, and I want you there.”

You looked away and stared at the feet of the horses as several knights rode by. Their hooves kicked up dirty slush and pebbles, spewing them over your shoes and Sam’s boots. Sam looked the opposite way, subtly using the hood of his cloak to shield his face from the men. After they’d gone, you didn’t turn towards him again, but you could feel Sam staring at you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheerful calls of men and women loitering in the street. “And once I am king, we can be together. There will be no law to stop us.”

“But there is a law now, and I’m bound to keep it, as are you,” you replied. You pushed the dress into his grasp and stepped just out of his reach, drawing your own cloak closer around you. The wind ruffled your shift and apron and Sam’s hair fluttered in front of his face as he stared down at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

“Of course I do, my King.” You bowed your head slightly, silently willing away the lump in your throat.

“Y/N—”

You stepped back again, almost tripping over a pile of firewood. Sidestepping, you lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I must go.”

His flickered to your bandaged hand when you reached up to adjust your hood once more, and your breath caught in your throat when he blocked your path and tenderly grasped your wrist with one hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. You kept your eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie in them, but he hooked a finger underneath your chin and gently guided you to look upward.

“It’s not nothing to me. You’re hurt.”

Your lower lip trembled as you held his gaze, until finally he dropped his hand and you could avert your eyes again. “I cut myself while I was helping cut vegetables. It was a clumsy mistake.”

Sam stood for a moment before he said, “You work in the bakery. Do not think so little of me that I do not know your trade. Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“Is that an order?”

Even without looking, you felt him tense beside you.

“It’s a request,” he quietly answered. “Tell me the truth, my love.”

His words cut deep into your heart, expertly carving out the softest parts of you and extracting them from the walls you’d built. Sam knew how to get past your every defense in just a moment’s time, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at the muddy, snow-mottled ground.

“The eggs I fetched for Ma’am this morning went missing. She believed it to be my fault, and I was punished.”

“Punished?” Sam repeated, and you slowly nodded. “Show me, I beg of you,” he added.

You knew that he was no stranger to blood or injury, but the shame you felt while unwrapping your hand was like salt in your wounds. Sam would never understand what your life was like, not now in the kitchens and certainly not before you’d escaped your homeland to come to Lawrence. Accepting punishments you didn’t deserve came easily to you, and the scar that would form across the back of your hand would only be one of many that littered your skin.

Sam took your hand in his once the bandage was removed. He held it gingerly, cradled between his own gentle palms, as he inspected the lashes. They were precise and though the blood had crusted over and dirtied your skin, you knew that underneath the mess, the four lashes stood like tallies across your knuckles and hand. Four identical scars would form, a constant reminder to you and others of your supposed blunder. You’d be forever marked by your inabilities.

“You should see a doctor” Sam finally said, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’ll heal fine enough on my own,” you argued. Before he could say anything more, you wrapped the bandage back around your hand and tucked it underneath your cloak, out of sight. “I truly must go now. If I don’t return with the eggs…”

“Let me walk with you,” he insisted.

You shook your head, but Sam stepped closer, crowding your personal space. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll leave you before we near the castle upon your return. I just wish to be with you before…”

His next words went unspoken, but you heard them loud and clear.

Before I’m crowned King.

Before everything changes.

Before I’m forced to marry for the good of the kingdom.

Before you fade away from my memory.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at the ground and nodded. “Very well.”

Sam held out his arm. It took you a few seconds to stir up the nerve to take it, and then he was leading you toward the outskirts of the village before you could think twice. He walked in silence beside you, carefully veering you around large puddles and holes in the ground. He positioned himself between you and the busy village paths and took the brunt of the slush and mud splashing when horses rode by and when children pushed carts full of root vegetables, evergreen boughs, and firewood toward their families’ stalls. The two of you remained quiet even as you walked, and you thought it strange that Sam didn’t ask for directions to Jody’s farm, nor did he even ask the farm to which you were heading. He simply steered you along in silence.

When you finally arrived at the Mills’ farm, you removed your arm from his and gathered your skirts in one hand so you could navigate their crowded land with more ease. Chickens roamed freely in their appointed yard, as did the goats in theirs, but you knew that their son and one of the village boys wouldn’t be far off. They took good care of the animals. A loss of any could surely devastate them all.

Smoke blew from the chimney as you neared their small hut. As soon as you were within a few feet, the door swung open and Jody met your gaze, her own eyes filled with concern. You never visited midday.

“Y/N?” she asked. Once you were near enough, she ushered you inside to the waiting warmth. You immediately took your normal seat at her table, but you glanced back over your shoulder when she wasn’t there to join you. Instead, Jody stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body tense with indecision.

“He’s a friend,” you told her, but she only continued to stare.

Jody suddenly dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed until she could only stare at the floor. “Your Highness,” she frantically murmured. “I apologize, I did not recognize you from afar.”

From where he stood just outside the door, Sam met your eyes through the open doorway. His hood had fallen, revealing his face, and snowflakes clung to his hair. His skin was pink with cold as he gave you a sad smile, then knelt slightly to help Jody rise.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft. “I am only here to accompany Y/N.”

Silently, Jody looked between you and Sam, and you felt warmth rush to your face, though not from the heat of the fire burning in her hearth.

“Of course, please come in, Your Highness.” Jody stepped out of Sam’s way and gestured for him to sit across from you at the table. She shut the door tightly behind him, then bustled around her small home. You watched for a moment as she retrieved a second wooden cup and began to pour tea. It had been ready to drink already, and guilt as heavy as lead sank to the bottom of your stomach. Jody and her family had little as it was, and now they’d waste their precious tea on you.

Sam took the empty chair and his legs immediately crowded yours under the table. He murmured an apology, then looked around the room. Two beds had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table and chairs. A roll of blankets was tucked atop one of the hay-stuffed mattresses, and several sets of clothing hung on hooks above the second.

“I apologize for the state of my home, Your Highness,” Jody said as she carried over two cups, then placed one in front of each of you. “We make do with what we have.”

He shook his head. “You may call me Samuel. I’m nobody important here.”

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced at you, but you focused on preparing your cup of tea with the small bowl of sugar she’d somehow produced. You knew with every minute that passed you’d get in deeper trouble with the head baker. Still, you couldn’t sabotage Jody’s time with Sam with your own troubles. It was very likely she’d never see him again, just as it was likely you’d never spend this much time with him again after today.

“But Your Highness, you are always—”

“Please,” Sam insisted. “I’m only accompanying Y/N today. I needed to get away from the coronation preparations, and she agreed to show me around the village.”

Of course, you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d barely agreed to anything, and the reminder of the upcoming coronation made tears well up in your eyes.

You inhaled deeply, straightening up in your seat and willing them away. You had to focus on the task at hand. Both Sam and Jody looked over at you as you downed your tea and winced as it scalded your tongue and throat.

“I need more eggs, Jody,” you told her. “The ones I bought from you this morning have disappeared. If I do not return with more…”

You trailed off, but Jody knew what you meant. She’d managed to get you talking one day and you’d spilled the horror stories of the head baker and the punishments you and the other kitchen girls had received. She’d also heard all about the horrors of your previous home. You’d shown her the scars that came with those stories, too. The only thing she didn’t know about you was how closely you held Sam to your heart, but that was a secret you could never betray.

Sam didn’t say anything as Jody quietly excused herself to search their chicken yard for more eggs. You obeyed, sitting completely still with your empty cup cradled between your hands. The bandage kept rubbing against the healing lashes every time you moved. You tried to shift it away from them as subtly as possible, but Sam was watching you like a hawk.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Sighing, you turned your head to look at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. “Samuel…”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable, Y/N. Why will you not let me help you?”

You looked down at the cup in your hands, fidgeting with the cracked handle. It clacked against the wooden table as you carefully placed it at the edge of the table. The cups were the finest in Jody’s collection, and your stomach twisted at the thought that she might think differently of you now that she’d seen you with Sam. Would she tell the other women in the village? Or her husband? What if her son had seen you, or the other shepherd boy? If someone found out that you’d been consorting with the prince unchaperoned, you’d be done for.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t get accustomed to your help. Soon enough you will be the king and I…”

“You will be my queen,” Sam fervently replied.

Shaking your head, you rose from your seat. The door swung open before Sam could speak up or join you. 

“I believe this will be enough,” Jody said. The basket in her hand was only half full of eggs, but your chest swelled with relief and gratitude nonetheless.

“It will have to make do,” you told her as you dug the coins from the pocket of your apron. “Will this be enough?”

Sam stood and you glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable, but then he nodded slightly, and you quickly looked back at Jody. It only took you a moment to realize that he’d been negotiating on your behalf.

You gripped his arm, digging your nails in until he looked over at you. He kept his expression neutral even as he turned his back on Jody to shield you from her curious eyes.

“You can’t,” you hissed at him. “They’ll ask why you’re paying her money. They’ll find out about us.”

His head shake was small, but not unnoticeable. “Dean won’t tell.”

If Dean knew, then there was no doubt in your mind that Sam had told others about your trysts, and your stomach twisted at the thought. You stepped away, staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and took the basket from Jody, who still stood by the door.

“Thank you, Jody. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you stepped back out into the cold midday air and started making your way back toward the castle. If anyone had stopped to ask you, you would’ve told them the tears in your eyes were from the cold.

The head baker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you hadn’t even made it to the actual feast yet. She’d ordered you and the rest of the kitchen girls to be working three hours earlier than normal, long before the sun even rose on Christmas Eve, and the upstairs servants had told you that the guests were talking about a feast that stretched long into the night. According to Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, most of the visiting royals planned to celebrate until the priests came for the midnight blessing. After that, there would be Christmas feasts tomorrow morning, afternoon, and evening, allowing everyone to celebrate. The leftovers would be taken to the villagers, and then there was the servant’s dinner to prepare for. You were exhausted. Between the extra work in the kitchens and the mental and emotional strain of avoiding Sam at any and all costs, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, let alone sleep or eat.

“Y/N, are you well?”

You glanced over and forced a small smile in Anna’s direction, though you never truly met her eyes. Your brain and hands were focused on the lump of dough sat on the table in front of you. Ever since leaving him at the Mills’ farm, you’d thought of little else besides how Sam could approach you next. He’d always teased you about getting bold and visiting you in the kitchens while you were working, but the very thought of that struck fear into your bones. If the head baker, or anyone, really, discovered your relationship with him, you’d be hung.

“You look pale, and tired. Maybe you should rest.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a little bit more life into your tired body. “I’m fine, Anna. Truly.”

When you looked up at her, she was turned toward you but her gaze was focused on the doorway leading to the castle courtyard. All day long, pages and servants from the neighboring kingdoms had been arriving to serve their own dignitaries, so when you turned to see what she was looking at, you’d expected an exhausted young boy or girl, looking lost and very, very hungry. What you hadn’t expected was Sam.

Sam, dressed in navy velvet, a gold circlet atop his head, and a gold chain resting on his chest. Sam, with shining black boots and his sword tucked neatly against his hip. Sam, with his hair shining in the light from the candles and his eyes focused solely on you.

“Y/N,” he began, and you swallowed thickly, your fingers digging into the dough in front of you. Your legs trembled and you had to lean against the table for support. He stepped through the doorway, ducking down to avoid knocking his head, and slowly approached the table where you and Anna worked.

“I cannot do this without you by my side. It would be wrong for the woman I love to be absent from this part of my life. I beseech thee, with every part of myself, to join me.”

He held out his hand as he stopped a few feet from the table. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and you licked your lips, trying to come up with a suitable response. When notching came, all you could do was gape at him and shake your head.

“Sam, I— I cannot be with you.”

“Yes, you can,” he gently argued. “You will not be punished. You are committing no wrong.”

You closed your mouth and quickly shook your head, glancing over at Anna as you continued to grip the table through the bread dough. It would no doubt have to be thrown out after your mistreatment. No good loaves could come of it now, just as no good would come to you after Sam departed. You were utterly and truly ruined.

“And what’s this? Why aren’t you— Your Highness!”

Whirling around, you stared in shock as the head baker collapsed into a low curtsy. It only took a second before Anna had collected herself enough to do the same. Only you and Sam remained standing, but he was still focused solely on you.

“I cannot,” you croaked, shaking your head. You tried again, more urgently this time. “You need to go, Your Highness. Please.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes flickered down to the scars on your hand. The head baker would surely whip you again for this. When you noticed Sam looking down as well, you hurried to tug the sleeve of your dress down to cover them, but it was too late. His eyes caught the movement and his eyes darkened slightly at the scars, then even further when he saw the whip coiled on its wall hook behind you. Ma’am had left it there as a reminder of what would happen if you or the other workers slacked on your tasks for the coronation or the Christmas feasts.

Sam dropped his hand back down to his side and his other came to rest on the hilt of his sword. He walked around the table, approaching the head backer, who still lay prone on the dirty kitchen floor.

“Are you the mistress here?” he asked. His voice had changed and you shuddered at the formality of it. With you, Sam spoke softly, gently, and with all the earnestness he could muster. Now, his words dripped with displeasure.

Silently, Anna rose and helped you over to sit on a nearby barrel of brined fish. It hadn’t quite made it to the storehouses before everyone grew busy. The smell of the fish was overpowering and it had been all day, but you barely made it to the barrel before you stumbled over your own feet. Sitting in the stink would have to do.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am whimpered.

You closed your eyes, holding your breath even as your lungs burned. You couldn’t bear to watch Sam fulfill the part of his job you knew he hated. Yes, people far and wide respected him for his level head and for being a fair and just ruler in his father’s stead, but he was also Lawrence’s judge, jury, and, when absolutely necessary, executioner.

“Then I command you to treat your workers with the grace they deserve in my kingdom. This will be your one and only warning.” Sam paused. “My father would not be so kind. You are lucky that I will hold this discovery close. I will be watching you well.”

Ma’am whimpered again, her words unintelligible as Sam backed away and scanned the room for you. Once he found you sitting beside Anna, who’d stood tensely by your side throughout the whole exchange, his face softened.

“What must I do to convince you?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, ignoring when Anna’s grip on your arm tightened at the sound of Sam’s voice directed toward you. 

“Samuel… I’m but a servant. What we had needs to end now that you are becoming king. You must marry for the good of the kingdom, even if it is not what you desire.”

“You sound like my father,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

His footsteps were soft as he crossed the room, stepping over the baker. His sword bumped against the leg of the table when he stopped a few feet away from you and Anna.

“May he rest in peace. He was a wise king, and you will be too,” you added.

“I will be even better with you by my side, Y/N. I love you, and I always will. You cannot ask me to try and give my heart to another, not when it will always be with you.”

Tears made your vision blurry until you finally looked up at him. His expression was pained as he waited for you to reply. When Anna gripped your arm even tighter, unable to stand the silence any longer, you shook your head.

“And what of your people? They will speak ill of me. Will you be able to handle that?”

“No one will—”

“They will,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile. You sniffled and patted Anna’s hand to signal her that she could let go. When she did, you carefully stood from the barrel, but you didn’t move away from it. “They will, my love, and you cannot punish them for it. They will be jealous and confused and angry that you chose someone so unworthy of your love, but fighting against their venom will only make it worse.”

Sam fell silent as he searched your face. Finally, he answered, “Are you accepting me, then? Will you stand beside me today, and every day after?”

After a moment, you nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yes, Samuel.”

Beside you, Anna laughed in pure relief, and you glanced over at her. She tried to muffle it, but you began to laugh as well. Sam surged forward and took your hand in his, making you look back at him. He dipped low to press a kiss to the back of your uninjured hand.

“I believe there is even a dress waiting for you, my lady,” he said.

You laughed a little more then, and when Sam took your hand to lead you out of the kitchens and up into the castle, you didn’t resist. Instead, you turned to wave at Anna. When she called after you in hopes that you’d come visit her in the days to come, you nodded fervently. You’d never forget the friend she’d been to you since arriving in Lawrence, and you’d repay her kindness tenfold.

Sam led you up to the main hall of the castle, where his older brother stood waiting in similar clothes. His robes were a deep red and the circlet on his head was also gold. The sash across his chest bore the Winchester crest, and the polished hilt of his sword gleamed bright in the winter sun streaming through the windows.

“You work in the kitchens?” he asked once you and Sam had fully emerged from the staircase. 

Tentatively, you nodded and glanced over at Sam, who’d positioned himself between you and the hall, shielding you from prying eyes. A tall evergreen decorated with candles and red berries stood proudly behind Dean.

“Yes, sire,” you replied, dipping into a slight curtsy. While you were certain that he’d disregard your show of respect given Sam’s affection for you, Dean was still captain of the King’s guard and that title alone was enough to make you tremble. He held more power than most people knew.

Dean scoffed and reached out to take your other hand. He bowed and kissed over the scars. His touch was gentle and you felt your face grow warm. Being kissed by one Winchester brother was enough to make your heart race, but two? You were practically floating, and Sam chuckled knowingly when he caught your somewhat dazed expression.

“Come, my love. Dean will be the one to escort you down the aisle for the ceremony,” Sam murmured.

You blinked and looked up at him, at a loss for words. Being left to your own devices in the upper parts of the castle was a terrifying prospect, especially since Sam was the one who’d escorted you up. If you were caught without him… You’d heard horror stories of servants who’d assumed too much of themselves. You shuddered.

“You will be perfectly safe,” he reassured you. He squeezed your hand and nodded encouragingly, but your stomach still churned with nerves. 

When you glanced over at Dean, he nodded as well. “You have my word that I will not leave you, Y/N. I am sworn to my brother’s protection, and therefore I am sworn to yours,” he said.

Slowly, you forced yourself to exhale and nod in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will see you soon, Y/N,” Sam said. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek this time. The flour that clung to your skin didn’t seem to bother him, and underneath the white dust your cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived to pull you from the depths of the kitchens. Sam always seemed to be able to turn you into a lovesick young girl, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sam backed away. You watched in silence as he turned, then strode down the hallway with such purpose that the path in front of him cleared immediately. Most of the crowds you had seen entering the castle for hours were nowhere in sight, but no one in the hall stopped to bow as he passed, as they had for King John. You wondered if he’d requested such behavior or if things would change once he was crowned. Since you’d begun meeting in secret months ago, Sam had never struck you as the kind of person who demanded a person’s respect. He always earned it in his own subtle way, just as he had earned your affections. He’d snuck past all your defenses in less time than it took you to escape from your home country.

Once he’d disappeared from view, Dean lifted his arm for you to hold. You gratefully accepted and let him guide you in the direction of the masses.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you entered the main part of the grand hallway.

“To the coronation,” Dean replied. He steered you around a group of knights who had gathered along the edge of the hall.

You stumbled and gripped his arm even tighter as ice cold panic flooded your veins. “The coronation? Now? I thought it not for a few hours!”

With his other hand, Dean steadied you. He slowed his pace for a few steps, then stopped when you planted your feet in the plus golden rug, refusing to move.

“Yes,” he answered, “the coronation. Where did you think we were going?”

“I— I did not know, but I am not— I cannot go to the coronation!” you hissed at him. You glanced down at your shift and the thin leather shoes you’d been wearing for years now.

“That’s horse shit. Of course you can go. Sam’s requested your presence, Y/N. You won’t be turned—”

“Maybe not,” you argued, “but I won’t truly belong.” You pulled your arm from his. “I’m dirty. I smell like yeast and fish. I don’t know the proper way to act or the proper things to say. I can’t dance. I don’t belong here, Dean, and one man’s love cannot change that.”

He watches you for a moment before his expression softens. “I believe that is why he cares for you, Y/N.”

You stared at him, confused. In your head, there’d been lists of reasons for Sam to turn you away. There’d been an even longer set of ways that the people of Lawrence could dismiss you from the coronation, each one more humiliating than the last. How could he love your faults?

Dean gently guided you to take his arm again, then began walking toward the cathedral at the far end of the castle. “You are not of royal blood, and you were once a stranger to Lawrence, but you’re intelligent. You’re quick, and you make him happy. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t spoken of you, and he’s mentioned no less than a thousand times how beautiful you are.”

“Truly?” you asked, and he chuckled. When you glanced over, Dean stared straight ahead, but he smiled.

“Truly.”

You stopped before a set of doors that stretched high above your head, ending in a point only inches from the lofted ceiling. The wood shined in the candlelight and you shivered as guards on either side pulled them open for you and Dean. A gust of wind blew through the cathedral, making the candle flames on the golden stands all around you dance and flicker. Rows of dignitaries inside turned at the sound of the giant doors creaking open and every bit of giddiness from Dean’s commentary drained out of your body.

“You swear that this is what Sam wants? That this isn’t a trick?” you asked, looking up at him.

Dean regarded you with a soft smile. “I swear, Y/N. I gave my word that I would protect you, did I not?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “This is true, but—”

“Then you are safe with me. I’m the captain, and they will obey me”

You took a deep breath, then nodded again. “Very well. I’m ready.”

He dipped his head and forced his expression into a neutral one before stepping forward. You kept your eyes focused on the grand altar at the front of the cathedral as Dean led you down the center aisle. The ladies and lords on either side of you gasped and whispered as you passed. It took every fiber of your being not to turn and run the other direction, and by the time you’d reached the steps that led to the altar, you were trembling.

“You are safe,” Dean whispered. He leaned in close to you so that only you could hear. “They cannot harm you, nor will I let them try.” When you shakily exhaled and nodded in understanding, he continued, “Sam will arrive soon. After he is crowned king, you will take his arm instead of mine.”

Confused, you looked up at him just as the fanfare began. “What then?” you asked.

The twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. “And then you will join us at the feast. Sam can have new clothes brought for you, if you would like, and you will celebrate with us. I believe he had a gown made for you especially. Did he not?”

Before you could answer, Dean straightened and lifted his fist to place it over his heart, just like the other knights did as Sam entered, but his other arm stayed in place to hold you steady. You clutched it tightly as the music continued and Sam processed down the center aisle of the cathedral. Long strands of evergreen garland marked his way. You marveled at his steadiness amid the grand procession. Children selected from the village and from royal families assisted with his robes and men in heavily decorated robes of their own carried tall, pure white candles and shining gold artifacts ahead of him.

Sam looked every bit the king you knew him to be. In the time since he’d left you in the care of his brother, Sam had donned a red sash embellished with the Winchester crest. A long navy robe trailed behind him, trimmed with white and composed of the richest velvet and fur you’d ever seen. His expression was grave and steady, though you knew his nerves hid deep down inside of him. Sam had told you how scared he was to be king. He didn’t want to let down his people or harm them in any way, but you had faith in him. All of Lawrence did, too. If they didn’t, his father wouldn’t have allowed him to be crowned king until it was absolutely necessary. Instead, John had made way for his son to take the throne at a much younger age than he had. In his last breaths, John had ordered for there to be no royal advisors or interim leaders in between his death and Sam’s ascension. It was only to be Sam leading the people, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

The ceremony passed quicker than you’d expected, and soon Dean was leading you across the dais to where Sam stood, newly crowned. He looked out over the visiting lords and ladies with the same serious expression as before, but when he turned to look at you, the sun shone through the stained glass in the massive basilica. You couldn’t help but smile back as he took your hand in his, bowed, and kissed the back of it. The gasps from the gathered crowd were but background noise as Sam lifted his head just enough to catch your eyes from below.

“My King,” you greeted. Your cheeks ached from the intensity of your own smile, but you couldn’t stop. The sun shone down upon you, casting colored shapes across Sam’s face and the robes that swirled around his feet like dark ocean waves.

“My heart,” he answered.

Thank you for reading! <3

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[whoawardwinchester]

A Winchester Chronicle (c3)

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Summary: Chapter 3 delves deeper into the filming of "Supernatural" as Y/N grapples with developing Raven's character amid personal and professional challenges. Tensions escalate when Jensen confronts Y/N about her health scare, leading to a heartfelt confession and a pivotal decision. Meanwhile, Jared's romantic developments spark joy amidst the drama, setting the stage for unexpected changes in relationships and dynamics among the cast and crew. The chapter ends with Jensen's revelation and a lingering sense of anticipation for what lies ahead.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Content Warning: (subject to change per chapter as this series is written) Body insecurities, Smut, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, teasing, erotica reading. Readers are advised to proceed with caution due to these themes and scenes.

Rating: 18+ for the whole series.

This is a work of fiction. There is no hate for anyone in real life.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series, just let me know! Also be sure to tell me how I'm doing or request anything related to Jensen/Dean!

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Based off of the episode "In the Beginning"

The sun rises on another intense day of filming, the air buzzing with anticipation as the crew prepares to dive into a pivotal episode of "Supernatural." You arrive on set, your mind still swirling with the events of the previous day. The tension with Jensen and the lingering effects of your medical incident weigh heavily on you, but you push it aside, determined to focus on your work and your character, Raven.

As the director gathers the cast and crew, he pulls you aside privately. "Y/N, are you still okay to keep shooting today?" he asks, his concern evident.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's do this."

Unbeknownst to you, Jensen is trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, his curiosity piqued. He leans subtly against a wall, straining to hear your reply. Just as he catches a snippet, Misha sneaks up behind him and whispers, "Boo!"

Jensen jumps, knocking over the coffee bar in the process. Cups and stirrers clatter to the floor, causing a commotion.

"Sorry!" Jensen mutters, embarrassed but grinning as the crew chuckles and helps clean up the mess.

The first scene to film is Sam sneaking out of the motel room. You stand off to the side, watching Jared transform into Sam. The tension is palpable as he slips out the door, heading to meet Ruby once again.

You exchange a brief, tense glance with Jensen as he prepares for his next scene. You can see the concern in his eyes, but you quickly look away, focusing on your script.

Filming Dean's Time Travel Next is the scene where Castiel appears beside Dean's bed, ready to transport him back to 1973. Misha, in full angelic attire, exudes a calm yet commanding presence as Castiel.

"Action!" the director calls.

Misha places a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "You need to stop it," he intones, his voice resonating with celestial authority.

The scene shifts to Lawrence, Kansas, in 1973. You watch as Jensen expertly navigates the emotional terrain of meeting his parents' younger selves and his maternal grandparents. There's a depth to his performance that draws you in, making you momentarily forget the tension between you.

As Dean discovers the truth about Mary's desperate deal with Azazel, your character, Raven, is introduced in a pivotal moment. Raven is a mysterious figure who has been watching over the Winchester family line, aware of the supernatural deals and their consequences.

"Raven, what are you doing here?" Dean demands, his voice a mix of anger and confusion.

"I'm here to help you understand, Dean," you reply, your voice steady and enigmatic. You then stride across the room, your hips swaying with confidence. Jensen's eyes follow your movements, his concentration slipping as he gets distracted.

"Uh, you need to know there's more forces at work here than you can see," he blurts out, inadvertently mixing his line with yours. The set erupts in laughter at the unexpected blooper.

"Cut!" the director calls, chuckling. "Let's take it from the top."

Jensen shakes his head, embarrassed but smiling. "Sorry about that, Y/N. I… I…" He debates telling you how Raven's walk caught him off guard but settles on trying to ask how you are. "I wanted to see how you are doing?"

You give him a shrug. "Never better, Winchester. Thanks for the concern."

You were mad. Now, he wanted to ask you now? There had been plenty of time to ask you. Hell, he could have called you, texted you, pulled you aside in between takes, and he chose now in the middle of a scene to ask you how you are?! You were fuming. You finish the scene with no more mistakes and take a moment for yourself.

During a break, Misha approaches you, noticing the tension. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You seem a bit off today."

You glance at him, your expression a mix of frustration and sarcasm. "Oh, I'm just peachy, Misha. Why wouldn't I be?"

Misha raises an eyebrow, sensing your irritation but doesn't respond. Instead, he walks away, heading straight for Jensen.

"Misha, what's going on?" Jensen asks as Misha approaches.

"What's up with Y/N?" Misha inquires, his tone serious.

Jensen sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's Dee. She wouldn't let me help Y/N after her medical incident. We argued, and now Y/N is avoiding me."

The set pulses with tension as the crew prepares for the episode's climactic scenes. You immerse yourself in Raven's character, channeling your frustrations into your performance. The scene where Raven confronts Dean and reveals crucial information about Azazel is intense, and you pour all your energy into it.

Jensen matches your intensity, and for a moment, the tension between you fuels a powerful dynamic on screen. But as soon as the director yells "Cut," the walls come back up, and you're left with your unresolved feelings.

After the day's shoot, you decide to offer to take everyone out to dinner. "Hey, how about we all grab some food together? My treat," you suggest, hoping to lighten the mood.

Jared smiles but shakes his head. "I appreciate it, Y/N, but I have plans with Gen tonight. We're going on a date."

Everyone is excited for him, and Jared gushes about how wonderful Gen is. Jensen makes a joke, "So, am I invited to dinner, too?"

You ignore him, focusing on the rest of the group. "Alright, everyone else, let's meet at the diner."

As the group heads out, Jensen approaches you. "Y/N, wait."

You snap, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. "You hurt my feelings and I feel like I can't trust you."

Jensen looks taken aback. "I just want to know what happened to you. Why did you pass out?"

"I can't tell you. You don't deserve to have that personal information, Jen." The way his nickname falls from your lips makes him catch his breath. He hadn't heard you call him that before, and it stirs something in him.

Jensen shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide his growing erection. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I really am. I just want to make things right."

You shake your head, the hurt still fresh. "It's not that simple, Jensen. Not anymore."

He watches you walk away, feeling a mix of regret and longing. He hesitates, then reaches out for your arm, gently but firmly pulling you back to face him. His voice goes to a low grumble as he whispers at you. "I cannot stay away from you, Y/N. I can't even begin to tell you how badly I wanted to stay by your side when you were unconscious. To hold you… to… I even called Jared to help you." You didn't take Jensen to be an emotional person, but tears were welling up in his eyes. You could feel the remorse.

You step forward and embrace him in a hug. "Jen… I didn't realize that you called Jared to come help me. I appreciate you so much." You hug him tightly, feeling his erection poking you in your lower stomach. You look down briefly at it, then back up at him.

"Jensen," you whisper, your voice softening. You look at him with concern. Disdain for Dee rising in your chest. You didn't want to hurt either of them, but you realized you're attracted to Jensen more than just a friendly face in your archive of make-shift family. You suddenly noticed his breath on your cheek, warm, with a lingering scent of a mint he just ate. His lips luscious and inviting. He was leaning closer to you, his green eyes fixated on your mouth, too. "We can't!" You say firmly, creating distance between the two of you.

"I know," he murmurs, shifting to conceal his still growing erection. "I know…" He repeated, lower.

You clear your throat and turn to walk away, but turn back again. "You're welcome to come eat, if you'd still like to." He contemplated your invitation. "Thanks. I'm just going to head home though. See you tomorrow."

Later, as you sit in the dim light of your trailer unwinding with a cup of chamomile tea, your phone buzzes with a message. It's from Jared: "Hope you're feeling better. We're all here for you. See you tomorrow." You smile faintly, touched by his kindness, and you text back, "Thank you. I am feeling much better, thanks to you and Misha. I hope your date went well! TTYL." But your thoughts quickly turn back to the unresolved tension with Jensen.

Suddenly, there's a knock on your trailer door. You open it to find Jensen standing there, looking tense and determined with sweat glistening off his body.

"Y/N, can we talk?" he asks, his voice strained trying to catch his breath.

You step aside, letting him in. He paces for a moment before turning to face you. "I just broke up with Dee," he says, his voice heavy with emotion.

Your heart skips a beat. "Wait. Jen, I never wanted this to happen. I had my family. I…" You just about spilled all of your grief in a pile of word vomit at him. To this man, whom you really do barely know, because he just broke up with his girlfriend? You felt crazy. "Jensen, please tell me this is a joke. That you just wanted to prank me." You settled on.

He shakes his head, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "It's not fair to her, or to you, to keep pretending everything's okay. I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N. I need to figure out what that means."

The weight of the situation hangs in the air as you both process what it means. "Did you say you HAD a family?" Jensen asks realizing what you had said. "N…No. I mean, yeah, but…" You stuttered. "Are you married?" He asked closing the small space between you, looking at you with worry and lust. You felt your panties dampen as he inched closer and closer. "I… was. Yes." You said holding up a hand to his chest to keep him away. His heart beating irregularly under your small appendage. You could smell his sweat mixed with cologne and it set your senses tingling. He was still breathing heavy, as you looked him up and down trying to figure out if he was still trying to catch his breath from running here or because of you. "Explain." He demanded in a Dean Winchester voice that made you shrink a little under his gaze. "Jensen… I can't do this. I can't be more than your friend. I was married, yes. My…" You looked down in a moment of guilt as you remembered your sweet husband. "My husband passed early last year and I'm just not…" Don't you dare tell him you aren't ready. Y/N, get your head straight. "You need to get back together with Dee…" You quickly tried to finish your explanation. He cut in, his voice low and fierce. "DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME." He grabbed your hand and removed it from his chest and pinned it above your head on the door frame. You moaned involuntarily as you both made a thunk on the trailer.

His voice was softer now. "You WERE married, and I'm so sorry for your loss. You have nothing to be guilty of, though. This…" he grabbed your other hand and pinned it, too. You didn't even fight it. "Is a normal feeling." He hovered his face above yours as you looked up at him deeply in his eyes. "Jensen" you said softly. "Say it again, princess." You melted. Your juices were flowing, and the butterflies were in full force now. He noticed. "You like that, don't you?" He whispered as he brushed your neck softly with his nose. "Princess." A moan escaped your mouth as you turned to face him buried in your neck now. "Jensen…" "I bet you smell just as sweet… down… here." he teased as he released one of your hands to caress your body, slowly moving toward your dampness. He grabbed you firmly. "Damn, you're ready, aren't you?" He smirked feeling the fluids through your lounge pants. He didn't give you time to answer. He flipped you around to face the door and he ran his hands over your curves. "You are perfect. You know that?" He exclaimed through gritted teeth. One hand rested on your ass before he gave it a swift smack. "MMMMM." you moaned. "Fuck…" he whispered throwing his head back. He pressed his dick to your ass through his jeans. You could feel the length of him throbbing through the fabric. You turned to face him, and you sank to your knees. He gathered up your long hair into a fist and pulled it slightly. "If you do this, you're mine. You know that, right? If you do this… YOU. ARE. MINE. Y/N." His eyes were dark with need now. Glaring into your face. "Yes, Jen." You barely got out as you hastily undid his belt, buttons, and slid his pants down. You were not hesitating now. You grasped his penis in both hands and circled the tip with your tongue. "Deeper." He urged you with his hand still tangled in your hair, firmly pushing your mouth closer to him. You take him as far in as you can slowly. You gag. "You've got it, princess." You moan and gag at the same time. "Take it all" he gently demands as he continues to guide his dick down your throat. You touch your lips to the base of his cock and slide him out and in, finally past your reflex. He moans as he throws his head back again, "yes Y/N, Fuuuuck." He looks back down at you. Your face is red, hair's a mess, spit slipping out of the sides of your mouth. He slowly pulls your hair back to slide himself out of your mouth. "Come here." He stands you up and spins until your back to facing your bed. He picks you up and grabs your voluptuous ass as you wrap your legs around his sturdy torso. You grab his face with both hands as he walks you back to your bed. You kiss him and not in a soft 'checking for chemistry' kiss. Your tongue explores every crevice of his mouth and his does the same to yours. He doesn't ease up on the kisses as he lays you down on your back, crawling on top of you in the process. He supports himself with one arm as he starts to take off your pants. His hand eases down your curvy belly and slips your panties and pants down your legs with ease. He walks his fingers up your legs barely touching your skin, giving you goosebumps. He almost gets close to your fupa, again, and you react.

"Jen. STOP." You gasp as you sit up and hurry to cover your lower body before he takes a good look at it. "I'm not ready." You say sheepishly tucking some hair behind your ear avoiding his gaze. You're about to cry.

"What is it? Did I do something?" He asked, his tone soft and caring now. Nothing like his lusty one a few seconds ago. You look at him as he takes your chin in his hand and turns your face toward him. "You deserve someone small like Dee, Jensen. You… trust me… You don't want all of this." you motion toward the parts of your body you're most insecure about. "What?" He sits straight up, looking at you shocked. "Jensen, I just mean…" you aren't sure how to get words out as the heat of the moment was still whirling in your mind. "Don't. Look at me. Y/N, look, at me." He coaxed as he scooted closer to you. "I don't want anyone else, but you, right here." He started saying as he wrapped his arms around you. You look at him. He seemed so sincere and loving. His rugged face inches from yours, as he lowered his tone more. "Y/N, I don't know what your insecurities are, but I want to be the one who makes them feel loved. YOU deserve this." He kisses your shoulder. "And this." He moves to your collarbone. "And this." He moves to your breasts, nipping at your hardened nipples through your shirt. You flinch a little, locking eyes with him. He faces you again. "I'll stop, right now, if you can give me one good reason that you don't deserve all of this," he stands next to the bed, fully naked now, wiggling his hips. "…that doesn't consist of a single bad thing said about your body." You giggle at the sight of him, but also sigh. A few tears fall from your eyes, and you wipe them away. You face him as he sits back down next to you, resting a hand on your thigh. "Jensen, what if we're moving too fast?" you said, disregarding his last statement altogether. "Hey, missy, don't change the subject." He smirked. "No, seriously though, do you feel like we are? I'll go home, now with no hard feelings about it, if so." He stated, half preparing to pull his clothes back on.

"I…it didn't feel like it." You said softly, tucking hair back behind your ear again. "I love it when you do that, and you look at me. It's so sexy." He said taking in the moment. "And if you don't feel like we are moving too fast, then let me show you the love you deserve." He said softly as he guided to lay back on the bed, slowly removing the covers from your body. You watched him, half intrigued and completely turned on by his tenderness. He scooted down your body to position his head just above your tummy while looking at you. "This," He kissed you softly. "Is beautiful." He noticed your c-section scar. He gently traced it with a finger. "This is beautiful." He kissed it, too. He gently moved his hands down to your thighs, placing his hand on the inner parts and separated them. "These, are gorgeous." He swooned as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs. You wiggled at his gentle advances, feeling tingles shoot through your body. He crawled back up to face level and hovered for a moment. "All of you is beautiful beyond measure. Especially what's in here" and he kissed your forehead. "Be kinder to it."

You couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed his face and pulled him closer, kissing him sloppily. You didn't care, let it be messy, let it feel wrong, but also let it feel so so right. Jensen pulled you out of your shirt in between kisses and then watched as your breasts were exposed. You covered them out of habit, and he looked at you and moved your hand away to replace them with his. He suckled your nipple, rolling it under his tongue. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter again. You grabbed his hair and pulled slightly, making him moan in pleasure. He came back up to your lips and kissed you again, sliding his body in between your legs. You could feel his penis outside of your opening, pulsating. You thrusted your hips to move against him. "I need you now, Jen." you moaned in his ear. "Say it again, baby." He returned.

"Jensen, I WANT you now." You changed. He wasted no time, as soon as you said it, he placed his tip at your slit and slid all the way in. You gasped. "Oh!" clutching at his hair in both hands, holding his head to yours. You looked at him, pleasure placed on both of your faces. "Shit. You're so tight!" he moaned as he grappled with thrusting into your cunt. You moaned over and over again, moving in rythm with each other. His grunts matching yours as you both climb with sensation. He moves your legs so your hips change angle slightly and you hit the high. "Jensen. Jensen. JENSEN!" You screamed, clawing at his chest now, writhing in your climax as he pumped into you faster and faster. He held your thighs firmly as he watched you come. "Fuck!" he exclaimed and he jerked shallowly into you as he filled your womb with his seed. He folded over you, shaking.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him as he slowly pulled out of you, both of your juices dripping from your pussy. He collapses next to you and pulls you to his chest. You both slow your breathing, as the euphoria of the night eased your muscles.

Your eyes became heavy, and you heard "Goodnight, beautiful", with Jensen's hands stroking your hair as you fell asleep to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat.

[winchester-girl67]

My Father's Daughter

Summary: Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks.

Requested by @rachelcarroll1819​ : “Can you do ome where the readers is the daughter of luicfer that john and bobby found as a baby bobby ends up raising her as his owns then when angels show up her powers finally show up also and sje in a relationship with either dean or sam ( whichever works for me)”

Pairing: Dean x Nephilim!reader

Square: Tattoo @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,805

Warnings: some SPN spoilers for season 12-15 (mainly surrounding Jack, and nephilim), not canon, language, adoption and related topics, implied relationship with Dean before the reader’s 18th birthday (reader and Dean are both 18), implied minor allergic reaction, injured!Dean, injuried!reader, blood, a little violence (involving guns/angel blades), angst, a little pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: This is before Castiel joins the Winchester’s side, I also took some liberties with the nephilim lore. Jack is such a fun character to write for, I had to include him in this request… Enjoy :) Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks?” You gasped at your reflection in the mirror. “Balls, that can’t be a good sign.”

You held open the collar of your flannel and traced your fingers over the unblemished flesh below your collarbone. It was easy to ignore when it happened the first time. A pencil standing on its point for three seconds longer than it should’ve was easy to play off as an illusion soaked in extreme boredom at the time. Strange occurrences were common especially around the Winchesters or anyone involved with the Winchesters, but this was- wasn’t possible. It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday and Dean brought you to get your first tattoo, an anti-possession symbol. You had it inked into the left side of your chest over your breast, just like him, but now it was gone as if it had... healed.

You decided not to tell anyone and buttoned your shirt a little higher than usual. You would just go back to the tattoo parlour today before you met up with Dean. You kept the little anomalies like this to yourself more often than not lately, after finding out you were adopted and who your biological father really was. Lucifer. Talk about daddy issues. You didn’t want anyone finding out that you had inherited anything from him. Eighteen years without a single sign of angelic anything and now you couldn’t deny there was something filtering through you, trying to get out. It felt like power.

“Meeting Dean this early, pumpkin?” Your father, Bobby, asked as you bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him but it was for the best, “Do your old man a favour and grab something to eat before you head out.”

“Alright, dad.” You said, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“You make sure that boy gets you home in time for dinner,” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I mean it this time, Y/N. I will get my shotgun out if you’re a minute past six, got it?”

You were his little girl, but he wouldn’t actually shoot Dean, right?

You laughed and nodded, playing it off as a joke. He could only be about eighty-percent serious, at most. You didn’t have a curfew but tonight was an exception. There were family and friends and family-friends, coming over to celebrate your birthday, since yesterday was a weekday and Bobby had steaks marinating in the fridge.

“We’ll be home on time, promise. Bye, daddy.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned his cap around so the visor was in the back.

“Always with the damn hat,” he grumbled as he fixed it back to the front.

You giggled as you twirled out of the room and bit into your apple. You took a couple of bites before holding it between your lips as you laced up your boots and slipped on your jacket.

Outside, you chucked the core into the tall grass opposite the house and climbed onto your motorcycle. You started it up and pulled your hair into a quick braid for the wind, otherwise it would tangle to an extent that could never be brushed out, and took your helmet off the handlebars. You secured the strap under your chin and revved the engine as you kicked it into gear, fish-tailing around before speeding off down the laneway.

Leaves were changing colour and it was cooler outside now. For a moment you wished you had remembered your gloves but you would power through, the tattoo parlour wasn’t too far away anyway. You chose a different parlour across town than the one Dean had brought you to, just in case the artist that tattooed you the day before was on shift today too. Too many questions would be asked and you didn't have the answers.

It was easier this time around, since you knew what to expect and how much it would sting, but you hated that Dean wasn’t there to hold your hand. The woman wiped away the excess ink when she was done the final flame and held up a mirror for you to see. You grinned at the permanent ink, marring your flesh the same way it did Sam and Dean and Bobby and every other hunter you knew.

To anyone else, they’d probably think it was odd but to you it meant protection and family. It was pretty, even with the red raw edges that would eventually flatten out as your skin healed. You loved the way new tattoos raised the skin and appeared to jump out at you. You felt like a badass sporting your fresh ink and bit your lip at your excited smile.

The artist snapped a pic for her portfolio and the shop’s website and you noticed a boy about your age smiling at you from behind the gap in the privacy curtains. He was sitting in the waiting area with his hands on his knees and just staring. At. You.

“Hello.” He said when you passed him on your way out.

His blonde hair was combed to the side, unlike Dean’s whose was always spiked up like an angry hedgehog. You gave him a nod of your head and nothing more. Glancing back at the parlour as you climbed onto your motorcycle, partially just to make sure he didn’t follow you out. He didn’t give off any creeper vibes but he was… odd.

“Ow,” you hissed suddenly as your chest burned. You pulled aside your flannel to see the tattoo glowing white hot before it fizzled out. Your body healing itself again and your tattoo disappearing. You looked up at the tattoo parlour sullenly, there would be no point in trying again. “Shit-balls.”

Just when you thought puberty was over. What the hell was going on with your body now? All you could think was that your bio-dad’s genes were finally kicking in.

It would be easy enough to hide it from Bobby, not so much Dean. Things were getting heated between you two lately and it was inevitable that he’d see you in a bra again. The thing was, the only people who knew about your bio-dad were John, who had passed away a couple years ago and Bobby, who promised never to tell another living soul; especially the boys. Sam would probably understand but he was four years younger than you and he couldn’t keep a secret from his older brother. Dean on the other hand, thought of things in black and white and anything tainted with the blood of a monster must be a monster in and of itself. And Lucifer was a monster, you heard the stories.

You wanted to be like Bobby, not your bio-dad and you wanted Dean to keep loving you. Which you weren’t entirely sure was possible if you told him that you were a nephilim. Until recently you had been questioning it yourself but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness surrounding you anymore or the dreams you’d been having of a man with glowing red eyes, a raspy voice calling out to you. You always woke up in a cold sweat and now you were thinking they might be more than just dreams. Maybe if you’d said something Bobby could help you make them stop.

You started up your motorcycle and pulled on your helmet, glancing back at the parlour one last time and watching as the blonde boy walked down the steps. He still had a smile on his face when his blue eyes met yours and he raised his hand to wave. Then he started walking towards you and you didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on, although you didn’t get that vibe from him. He had more of an innocence about him. You still weren't in the mood.

You must’ve drove past the laneway to your house six times before you decided you couldn’t face your father or everyone else who had congregated there for your birthday dinner. Bobby had bragged about you finally getting your anti-possession tattoo and becoming a real hunter and what if someone asked to see it? How could you explain that?

You went to the one quiet place where you could always think. The graveyard on the west side of town. You didn’t know anyone there but you felt it was nice if someone visited them from time to time. You were always respectful and you liked to sit on the bench at the back between the overgrown trees. The spot was hidden from the road and you could hear the resident owl from time to time.

It was late now and well past six, when dinner was supposed to be ready. Bobby would likely be fuming or worried as hell, probably both. On the brightside, Dean would be with him and everyone else so Bobby would have no reason to blame him or shoot him. Except it was possible he still might try.

You checked your phone to find too many messages from both Bobby and Dean, all asking where you were and when you were getting back. One more recent one asking if you were in trouble. You typed off an ‘I’m fine’ when you heard the leaves crunch under the weight of a sneaker.

You whipped your head around to find the blonde boy from the tattoo parlour peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. He smiled brightly as he slowly approached you, waving again and if you were about to make a run for it, you no longer felt the need.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. This is my first time..." he paused, seemingly struggling to find the word, "-talking." He grinned again.

“O-okay.”

Did he just break some sort of oath-of-silence or something?

You were still skeptical even if you weren’t scared. He wasn’t all that big, kinda skinny, you could take him in a fight if you had to.

“Are you following me?” You asked, he smiled and nodded like he didn’t understand how creepy it was to admit to following someone. “Why, -the fuck?” You almost laughed, it was so awkward, but you settled for a single puff of air. “How’d you find me?”

"I've been looking for you, I’ve been wanting to meet you, you're not easy to find, I can only sense you some of the time -This place is nice." He glanced around, it was hardly the word you would use to describe a graveyard but what-the-hay there were stranger things at foot, “You seem troubled. Can I help?"

"Um, no? I'm just a bit confused. You ‘sensed’ me?" You asked, squinting your eyes up at him.

"You put off an energy when you're stressed and I could tell you needed me. It smells like... sour strawberries -Are strawberries good?" He asked and tilted his head. Dude was weird, but probably harmless.

“Um, yeah, when they have chocolate on them, otherwise they make my tongue feel funny.” You shrugged, Dean had bought you chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s day, almost made it worth the itchy throat. “Why do you think I need you? I don't need you, I don't even know you.”

“We have more in common than you think.” He alluded and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face as he stood there.

“I’m getting impatient, Jack, and you won’t like me when I’m impatient.” You quipped and he tilted his head in confusion. Dean was rubbing off on you, after all those hours watching ‘classic’ movies with him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you feel so familiar?” That was the feeling you were picking up from him, a closeness; you finally figured it out.

“I’m your brother.”

Your face blanched, “The only person I’d consider a brother is Sammy -even if it is a little awkward since I am dating his actual brother- but we’re not related, we just grew up together, sort of... our dad’s knew each other and we hung out… quite a bit actually but that’s not the point. I don’t have blood relatives, up here, anyway.”

“But we have one in common, down there." Jack pointed as he laughed and sat down beside you.

You scooched over to the end of the bench, "So... Your father...?"

"Is Lucifer, yes, and so is yours." He said.

Did he always smile? He seemed too cheery to be a descendant of the Devil himself. At least you had the decency to be unbearably irritable once a month.

"Prove it," you smirked back snidely. Yup, too much time around Dean.

"Okay," he pulled a long silver blade from his jacket, one you knew as an angel blade and levitated it in the air. He moved his fingers and the blade mimicked his motions. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You nodded and remembered the pencil; could you do something like that someday? Maybe you had to focus more or less, he didn't seem to put much effort into it.

"Do you want to try?" He asked, grabbing the blade from mid air and handing it over to you. "It's easy, just focus on what you want it to do and make it happen."

You focused on the blade in your hands and squinted your eyes, picturing it spinning in a circle like a top. You almost burst a blood vessel in your eye before you huffed and gave up, "It's no use! I can't do it."

"You're just trying too hard. We can work on it," he smiled again and you handed him back the blade.

Jack wasn't a threat, somehow you just knew, but how long was he planning on staying? And if he stayed you'd have to explain yourself and him to Bobby, that wasn't something you were looking forward to.

"Do you have any tattoos?" You asked.

"No, should I?" He asked, his smile fell and he looked worried for a moment as if you wouldn't like him if he didn't.

"I tried to get one, twice now, but it keeps healing." You pulled open your flannel a little to touch the skin where the tattoo should've been. "Kinda sucks, you know? I've been injured on hunts before and I have scars, so it doesn't make any sense to me. Why now?"

"Maybe..." he thought and tucked the blade back into his jacket, "Your powers are only developing now because you grew up slowly. You had a normal adolescence."

"I'd hardly call my childhood normal," you rolled your eyes. You were raised as a hunter and Bobby took you out for target practice every Sunday and when John and the boys were in town, you would have to participate in sparring and weapons training, all before you could read. And when you could read, lore was added to your studies along with your typical -normal school work. "How come you have your powers already then? You're about my age."

"I had to grow up faster than you, there are things -people here that want to hurt me and I needed them to protect myself." He explained, “That’s probably why yours are just showing up, your body feels it too.”

“Feels what?”

“Our father, his return.”

“Bio-dad, Lucifer?” You huffed, “Uh-yeah, I don’t think so. My surrogate dad sealed him in a cage eighteen years ago with the late-great John Winchester, you might’ve heard of him? Trust me, dude, we’re safe.”

“You can’t feel him? Maybe I can help you along,” Jack reached out to touch your forehead with two fingers and before you could push his hand away your body was flooded with images, feelings, light, dark, energy -it was too much and you pulled away, trying to catch your breath and blink away the numbing headache.

You gulped and met his blue eyes, “How are you only a day old?!”

Not only had he transferred everything he felt to you but also every memory he ever had, tracing back to even when they were just feelings in the womb of his mother. You didn’t remember any of the same stuff from your own life. How could you be the same but totally different? You were stressed beyond belief, your mind racing a mile a minute and that’s when you noticed the pulsing light coming from your palms.

“Um, Jack,” you said, inspecting your palms and turning them to face him as the light got brighter and pulsed more frequently with every heavy heartbeat. “What’s happening to me?”

“I helped you find your powers, they were -uh… hidden. I just pulled them to the surface so now you can access them.” He smiled and you gaped as a single pulse of light left your palms, hitting Jack like a force field and knocking him off the bench. He landed a good ten metres away but shook it off and stood back up, “-Ouch.”

Voices filled your mind as if multiple people were whispering in your ears all at once and they kept getting louder and louder until all you heard was a blaring hiss as if a radio was in the midst of tuning. You fell off the bench, clutching your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would help.

You screamed over the noise though you couldn’t hear yourself, “Jack! Jack!”

You felt his hands rest over yours and a moment later the noise faded away. You sighed and blinked open your eyes. Your ears felt as if they were bleeding and you touched them to check.

“What the balls was that?” You asked, catching your breath.

“Angel radio, I forgot to warn you it can be overwhelming but you’ll get the hang of it. It gets easier to tune out with practice.” Jack said, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“All I really heard was buzzing, will I be able to understand them? When I get the hang of it.” You could hardly believe this was your life now, hearing angelic voices in your head and pulsing shockwaves from your palms.

“Yes,” he nodded, “The pain will always be there though.”

“What were they saying?” You asked, noticing the dirt on your jeans and brushing off your knees.

“It was a distress signal about Lucifer.” Jack explained, brushing some crumpled bits of dried leaves from your shoulder.

You heard someone approach, heavy on their heels, “Get away from her!” Dean yelled with his gun drawn, eyeing Jack like he was ready to kill.

But you didn’t want him to hurt Jack, your little brother, “Dean, No!” You spun around and held up a hand. You didn’t mean to release another shockwave and it sent Dean flying into the tree behind him. He hit it back first and slumped to the ground, unconscious. “DEAN!”

You ran to him and cradled him in your arms, pulling his head to your chest. Tears welled in your eyes and dripped onto his cheeks as you curled over him and rocked back and forth. You didn’t know if it was your new powers but you could tell he wasn’t okay. He hit his head hard and you didn’t even know if he’d wake back up.

“Stay right there, boy.” You heard your father’s voice warn Jack as he approached you.

“Daddy?” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, he’s gonna be okay.” Bobby crouched next to you and inspected Dean’s head. His hand was covered in blood when he touched the back of it. He frowned and scrubbed the other palm over his scruff, “Oh, balls! Hang on, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Jack risked a step forward even with Bobby’s gun still trained on him. “I can help him. I’ve done it before.”

He had, hadn’t he? A single memory of Jack healing his birth mom while still in her womb came to mind. He wasn’t lying. You nodded and put your hand on Bobby’s gun to lower it. You weren’t even sure at this point if a bullet could even hurt him... or you anymore. Now that you feel more angelic than human.

Jack knelt next to Dean and laid a hand on his head. His fingers glowed a warm gold, the same colour as his irises and you felt Dean’s body react; his heart stabilizing with stronger beats and his breathing evening out until he began to stir. You watched intently as his green eyes fluttered open and you wiped away your tears, then dried his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he locked eyes with you.

He stared up at you, registering all that just happened and then a shot rang through your ears. Dean sat up and pushed away from you, his gun smoking in his hand and you looked down at your chest. Where he shot you.

“Idjit! What did you do?!” Bobby yelled at Dean and tried to inspect your wound. It actually didn’t hurt all that much and when you opened your shirt, the same golden glow you’d seen moments ago healed the wound until it was as if it was never there.

“That’s not Y/N! What are you, you bitch?! What did you do with her?!” Dean shouted, raising his gun again. "I swear if you hurt her-"

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna see your next birthday.” Bobby warned and Dean glanced between you both, noting that he was the one out of the loop. He lowered the gun but kept it ready on his thigh and felt the back of his head curiously. “I was wonderin’ when those nephilim powers of yours would kick in, the only question I got is... Who in the holy balls is this guy?” Bobby asked, nudging his head towards Jack.

You always loved how he could incorporate balls into any sentence whether it fit or not and you guessed you did it too; you were your father’s daughter after all.

“He’s -um, my brother. Half-brother.” You said and glanced back at Jack who smiled and held a hand up as if to shake your father’s. Bobby didn’t reciprocate though and you added, “On my bio-dad’s side, obviously.”

It was well known that a human mother couldn't survive the birth of a nephilim child. Your note was more to tip off Bobby to shut up in front of Dean about it. Not that Bobby took the hint since he probably felt the cat was out of the bag anyways.

“So, good-old Lucy got sprung from the cage, eh? I figured that would happen eventually -was hoping for more time though.” Bobby grunted and fixed his cap like he did when he was unnerved and not wanting to show it.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a fucking clue what in the hell is going on? Y/N?!” Dean huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I -um,” you didn’t know how to explain. “I -um, I’m adopted. Surprise.”

“You’re Lucifer’s daughter?” Dean asked, catching on quickly.

The light in his eyes dimmed at the idea and you knew you needed to correct him and fast.

"No! No, I am Bobby’s daughter and I suppose... a by-product of Lucifer’s sperm donation.”

Dean nodded, then cringed. "That’s kind of gross.”

“I’m still me, Dean, the girl you’re in love with but won’t ever admit it to.” You said, hoping for him to see you the same way he did before. “I’m the same girl.”

“No, you’re not. Your eyes are different.” He stared hard like he was trying to see past something.

You looked to Bobby as if he had the answers, “Your eyes are glowing, pumpkin.”

You imagined your reflection with the eyes you’d seen Jack wear when his powers filtered through him. Then you felt it, the difference, you weren’t in control of them yet, they manifested with the waves in your emotions. It was extremely hard to control.

“Jack, how do I make it stop?” You asked and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Take a deep breath and let it go.” Jack said.

You didn’t think it could really be that fucking easy, but gave it a try. When you opened your eyes again you could feel the light dimming and then extinguish. You were exhausted.

“I wanna go home.” You looked to your father and he nodded. Jack’s smile seemed to turn upside down and you added, “Can Jack come too?”

“Might as well, party’s cleared out anyhow.” Bobby stood up and eyed Jack, sizing him up. You could tell your father didn’t trust him yet, but you knew Jack was good, you could feel it.

“Sorry I missed the party.” You stood up and hugged Bobby.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” He patted your back and ruffled up your hair when you broke the hug. You frowned and tried to tuck the loose strands of hair back into your braid. “We should get outta here before-”

You heard what could only be described as a rush of feathers before a bald man in a suit appeared before you, "Hello, Robert.”

“It’s Bobby, jackass.”

There was another louder rush and two others appeared next to him. One of them oddly wore a trench-coat over his suit. You knew instantly that these men were angels. You could see their halos shine brightly above their heads. A side effect of finally getting your nephilim powers you assumed. In all your time hunting you hadn't come across any angels, you never wanted to either based off of the stories Bobby and other hunters told you.

"Zachariah," Bobby said, nodding at the bald angel before him, then the other in the tight suit, "Uriel... long time, no see."

You knew from your studies that Uriel was an archangel, by far more powerful than the others, even if he seemed to let Zachariah take charge at the moment.

“I thought we had an understanding." Zachariah continued, "If the nephilim child showed any signs of getting her powers you were supposed to contact me, right away."  

“Like you wouldn’t have known, don’t you have some sort of angelic radar? As soon as the kid showed any signs of grace you'd feel it. That’s why you’re here isn’t it.” Bobby snapped back at the man, or angel wearing some poor sap as a meat-suit like a demon would.

“Precisely, which is why we wanted to avoid an event large enough to attract our attention. She hurt the boy, didn't she? That could've been avoided. She is an abomination and she will offset the order of the universe, given the time; there’s only one way to deal with this sort of thing... Castiel.”

The angel wearing the trench-coat stepped forward with a stoic face as if he was about to carry out some unspoken order. Like a good little soldier of heaven. An angel blade dropped into his hand from his shirtsleeve and he advanced towards you. You stumbled back and Jack grabbed your hand and puffed out his chest. Castiel stopped in his tracks just as both your eyes began to glow.

“That can’t be.” Castiel said as he backed off. He glanced back at Zachariah and then disappeared with a flutter of his wings. At least he knew when he was outranked.

The others however, Zachariah and Uriel, did not retreat and advanced upon you. Each with their own angel blade in hand. You and Jack channeled your powers together and raised your hands. You released a joint shockwave that blew them apart to mere atoms which floated away in the wind like snowflakes on a cold winter day. Your power alone was great, but together it was unmatched.

There would be no issues destroying or caging Lucifer when the time came for it. But you would have to find him first. Or maybe he would find you now that your powers had emerged. Apparently it sent up a pretty big blip on the angelic radar or whatever Bobby called it and Lucifer was probably still connected to that, right? Or at least had some sort of version of it.

"Holy hell,” Bobby cursed, “Come on, Y/N, we best be getting home before someone or something else comes looking for them or who did that to 'em."

You let your father lead the way to his truck and towed Jack along with you. Meanwhile Dean trailed behind keeping a watchful eye on your new found brother. All the while not saying much.

He didn't say anything actually, not even when you remembered your motorcycle. He just took the keys from you so you could drive back with your family. Or maybe he just didn't want to be squished into the cab of that old Ford with a being more powerful than an archangel -that was born yesterday- and your father. Bobby was super protective of you, and Dean and his relationship was strained because of that. It was a miracle they drove here together without someone getting shot now that you thought of it.

And Dean's silent treatment continued for days longer than any fight you'd had with him since you had gotten together. You didn't even know if you were still together anymore. So to say you were surprised to see him show up when Bobby and Jack went out on a day trip for some bonding, was an understatement.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Dean said, standing in the front doorway and glancing behind you, his eyes searching the space. "Bobby out?" He asked, you nodded, "How 'bout your -uh... b-brother?"

"You mean Jack?" You asked, he'd probably just forgotten his name. Dean gave you a soft smile and nodded twice, "Yeah, s'just me home. Why, you come to snuff out the monsters? One abomination at a time?"

Dean pushed his brows together and frowned down at you. "Listen, girly-"

"Girly?!-"

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, slipping your name off his tongue with his hands held up as if to pose no threat. "I know Bobby said you needed time and you didn't wanna talk to me, but I just gotta get this off my chest and then I'm gone, okay? Can you just listen? Please."

That wasn't true. Bobby lied. But you motioned for him to continue anyways.

"I was pissed at you. For not telling me, not trusting me. You were there for me when my father-" Dean choked up and cleared his throat. His eyes watered as he searched for the right words to say, "I just -I didn't understand why you didn't want me there for you, so I blamed you. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and it's no wonder you couldn't trust me, hell, why would you? All I've ever done is maim and kill-"

You'd heard enough, "Dean, I trust you! Nothing's ever going to change that and I didn't tell my dad to tell you shit. You just looked so hurt, I didn't know how to reach out and thought maybe you didn't want me to." You chewed on your lip before you decided to swallow your embarrassment and rolled your eyes at yourself, "Fuck it, I love you." It was the first time either of you said that out loud, "And I know at one point you felt the same about me and I guess, I'm just hoping that's still the case?"

Dean gave a delicate nod and shrug of his shoulders, "You'll always belong with me, Y/N." He confessed and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you. You let him and he pressed his forehead to yours. "And I care about you, too."

It hurt a little that he didn't say it back, but that was close enough for you. Dean wasn't touchy-feely in the case of emotions and you didn't need to make him say it. You felt it in the way he clutched you to him and you sunk into his embrace.

Dean pressed a hard kiss to your temple and another open lipped kiss to your cheek. You felt the heat of his breath on your lips before his mouth molded to yours and your tongues touched. His movements were slow and passionate and when his fingertips touched that ticklish spot on your neck you giggled into the kiss.

He felt like coming home; safety and warmth in his arms. Even if you didn't need protecting anymore, it was nice. It was the first time in days you let yourself relax and it seemed like you weren't the only one.

Dean pulled away to let you catch your breath and you slowly blinked open your eyes to meet his. He let out a breathy chuckle and his forehead fell to yours again, his eyes admiring yours with an amused grin on his face.

"Your eyes are glowing," he breathed and sucked on his bottom lip. "You are so damn beautiful.” And he brushed the hair from your face. “You’re everything to me.” You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek and his hand sink from your lower back to grip your butt cheek. "You’re my everything.”

Your cheeks instantly hurt from smiling so bright at his words.

His other hand met on your backside and you squealed when he squeezed hard enough to bruise, but only for a second. Dean chuckled, slapped your butt and kissed you again. And you got lost in it.

Until the backdoor slammed shut, “Boy, get your damn hands off my daughter!" Bobby commanded as he set the cooler he was carrying on top of the counter.

Jack followed in behind him and smiled at Dean with a small wave.

Dean stopped kissing you and raised his hands as he stepped away from you. He was grinning wildly and biting his lip, his eyes roaming your body like they always did before they held your gaze.

You so easily fell back into the way things were before with him and this was the good part. The part where you could speak novels with a wink of an eye. It was like a language only the two of you could speak and he was saying 'I still love you, so damn much'.

Your father cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, "Dad, I thought you said you were taking Jack fishing? Shouldn't that take a couple more hours?"

"Not a chance, pumpkin." Bobby side-eyed Dean, "Besides, kid, already caught a week's worth. He's a natural." He boasted, coming around to Jack much faster than you expected him to.

"I'm a natural," Jack repeated and beamed with a little tilt of his head. He bounced on his heels, twice, he was so excited.

You groaned and shook your head, "I'm surrounded by dorks."

"What's a dork?" Jack asked and furrowed his brow.

Dean answered, "A little brother."

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27​

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[muffinbeliever]

Drunk Confessions

The reader makes fun, girly drinks for the boys. Chaos ensues. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 582 (she's a smol one!)

Warnings: alcohol (?), fluff, very rushed lol 

Square Filled: Feelings Accidentally Revealed @spnfluffbingo

A/N: oh my god hello everyone i am so sorry for the long hiatus/break that i took unexpectedly i missed you all so much and i felt so guilty every day that i didn’t write oops here is a little drabble because i cant bring myself to write more than 2 pages right now, for my 2022 fluff bingo that i am continuing through 2023 (OOPS) i love you all and i hope you enjoy !!!

Masterlist | SPN Fluff Bingo 2022 Masterlist

You slammed the shot glass on the table as the whiskey burned your throat. Your face wrinkled in disgust.

“Oh, that is just… that’s awful,” you said with a shudder. “You guys like this stuff?” 

Sam threw his head back with a laugh while Dean looked at you like you grew two heads. 

“What?” You asked, defensively. “Don’t tell me whiskey tastes better than literally any fruity cocktail in existence.” 

“Dean is still scarred from the time he drank purple nurples,” Sam smirked. 

“What the hell is a purple nurple?” 

“Don’t even ask,” Dean groaned, shaking his head. An idea sparked in your head before you could reply, so you curbed your curiosity, formulating a plan instead. 

“I’ll be right back,” you announced, as you stood from the wooden chair. 

An hour and three drinks later, you were buzzing with alcohol, your body filled with warmth. 

“Woah, Sam, are you drunk?” You asked, perplexed. In all of your years with the brothers, you had never seen either of them drunk. Alcohol was like water to them. 

“Psh, yeah,” he said, sassily. 

“How is that possible? You’re a giant. And you’ve been drinking since you were twelve!” 

“‘Cause Sammy only drinks beer, sweetheart. You get three shots of liquor in him, and he’s out for the night,” Dean laughed, but his slightly slurred words and shining green eyes indicated that he, too, was pretty far gone. 

“At least I’m not short.” Sam bit back from where he was slouched in an armchair, giving his classic bitch face. "And bossy.” You laughed at his seriousness. He looked over at you and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing so hard over there, Y/N/N. You’re the one who’s in love with him.” Your jaw dropped at Sam’s bluntness, your eyes quickly darting towards the older, henley-wearing hunter, who was luckily drunk and distracted. 

“Shut up, Sam,” you laughed, nervously, hoping Dean was too drunk to hear the tremble in your voice. 

“Please. Sound familiar? ‘I would rather stay in Purgatory for a week than spend one more night listening to Dean with another girl,’” Sam said, mocking you in a higher-pitched voice. 

“You said you’d never bring that up!” Your face was heated, embarrassment steadily growing inside of you. “And I don’t sound like that!” 

“I’m getting another drink,” Sam slurred, getting out of his chair. 

You watched with amusement as he stumbled towards the alcohol on the table, carefully sniffing each one, before settling on a fruity cocktail you had finished making just minutes before. You smiled at your small triumph.

You looked over towards Dean again, your heart melting at the bright smile he flashed you. 

“Hey,” you murmured once he was close enough. He pulled you into his arms, and you relaxed in his embrace. Drunk Dean was handsy and affectionate, always talking about how good you smelled. You were familiar with Drunk Dean, having met him a few times throughout your years with the brothers. 

“If I had known you felt that way, I wouldn’t see all those girls,” he said, quietly. Your heart soared at his words— the words you’ve been wanting to hear for so long now— but you knew that it was wrong for you to ask this of Dean, and you shook your head. 

“No I get it, it’s your coping mechanism. You like it,” you argued, albeit weakly.

“No, Y/N. I like you,” Dean insisted, before capturing your lips with his. 

Taglist: @akshi8278​ @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91​ @lanea-1​ @slamminmine​ @bluedragonflylady @cevans-winchester @bakugouswh0r3 @muhahaha303 @allaroundjejje​

[deanwinchesterswitch]

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas ~ Master Post

Summary: Dean’s holiday spirit is nowhere to be found. Fed up with his Grinch-like behavior, Nicole is determined to open his heart again to the wonders of the world around them and help him find joy in the Christmas season.

Pairing: Dean x Nicole/Nico/Nic {OFC} (Established Relationship)

Warnings: Fluff; Angst; Flirting-lots of flirting (sometimes sexually suggestive); Implied smut; Language (not too over the top); A bit of canon divergence

Share in Dean and Nic's journey. Visit The Road So Far Travel Map.

*Photos were taken by me or downloaded from Creative Commons sites Pixabay and Unsplash.*

Word Count: TBD ~ chapter length will vary greatly.

Beta(s): @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Credit: The stunning title cards and dividers were made by @talesmaniac89. I love them so much!!

Author’s Notes: A sixteen-part series based on my SPN Christmas bingo card. Each square will tie into an overarching storyline. I will tag my Love Me Some Pie tag list (tagged for all Dean-centric fics). Let me know if you would like to be added. Fic titles are lyrics from songs that apply specifically to the square prompt or spirit of the story for that square. 

Part One ~ A Bad Banana

Part Two ~ See What the Time's Done

Part Three ~ Hail the New

Part Four ~ Sweetest Things

Part Five ~ Let Me Show You

Part Six ~ Take the Freeway Down

Part Seven ~ We Three Kings of Everything, Jack and Johnny, and Jim Beam

Part Eight ~ Fancy Ties n' Granny's Pies

Part Nine ~ A Babe So Dear

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-baby-momma // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @impala-dreamer // @iprobablyshipit91 // @irgendwas122 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @musicissmylife // @mvdeanw // @pallographsunspot // @princessmisery666 // @raisinggray // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix // @yvonneeeee

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Alone

Pics from Pinterest | Divider from @firefly-graphics

Title: Alone Summary: You missed your Christmas date with your boyfriend to be on your own.  Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader eventually Squares filled: Alone at Christmas for  @spnchristmasbingo // Dean’s Flannel for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo // Free Space for @badbitchesbingo //  Warnings: Fluff, Christmas day, lazy day. Word Count: 324

| Masterlist | SPN Masterlist |

It was Christmas morning, and you were still in your pajamas. You were supposed to be driving to your boyfriend’s house to spend the holidays together, but when you woke up, you weren’t feeling the greatest emotionally, you wanted to be alone, you needed to be alone. 

You first put your phone in silence, then grab your boyfriend’s favorite flannel and your comfiest blanket for special occasions.

It was going to be a lazy day.

You grabbed the cookie container you had prepared to take to your boyfriend's, a mug of hot chocolate, set up a movie and got ready to spend a lazy day on your couch watching movies on Christmas day.

You should've told Dean that you weren't attending, but he was going to ask for explanations and you didn't have any, you just felt the need of being alone.

At some point you fell asleep because now that you were walking up, the sun was settling in and the weather was getting colder.

It was time to check your phone, and as you expected, you had too many text messages and missing calls from Dean. He was probably worried.You texted a quick "I'm fine. Happy holidays 💖" and put your phone down again.

Tired of Christmas movies, you put on a rerun of one of your favorite tv shows when you heard someone clearing their throat.

"You look better than me in that flannel, sweetheart," Dean said with his gentle voice.

"Hi babe," you greeted him stretching out from the back of the couch to peck his lips, "I'm sorry about today "

Dean shook his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, "you should've told me that you need this. I would've joined you"

"I needed to be alone. I'm sorry " you apologized hugging him.

"We still have some Christmas time and hot chocolate ready, let's finish this day together." He said, and then kissed you stealing your breath.

Tag List is OPEN (DM or Link in Navigation Post)

Everything Tag List @iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @caplanbuckybarnes | @vivalaluciforever | @maliburenee | @alexxavicry | @foxyjwls007 | @thoughts-and-funnies | 

Supernatural Tag List @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ | @nancymcl​ | @leigh70​ |

Dean / Jensen Tag List @akshi8278​ | @sexyvixen7​ |@larrem88​ | @lyarr24​ | 

[holylulusworld]

I never was...

Title: I never was

Summary: It’s Christmas. Time for forgiveness and second chances.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of a break-up, pregnant reader, Dean’s low self-esteem, mentions of Dean’s childhood, fluff

Square 19 filled for @spnchristmasbingo​: Coming home for Christmas

Square 1 filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo: Getting back together  

Divider by @dawn-petrichor-world​

Words: 1k

2022 SPN Christmas Bingo Masterlist

Multi-Fandom Winter Bingo

One week before Christmas, …

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam pokes his head into Dean’s room. The hunter pumps up the volume to listen to an awful Christmas song. At least Sam thinks it’s an awful song. “DEAN!”

The hunter sits on the ground, flipping through an old photo album. The only one he got. “I’m just looking at old pictures, is all. I tried to find stuff and found it.”

“Dean, that’s the picture album Y/N made,” the younger brother softly says. “What’s wrong with you lately? Do you still miss her?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He drops his eyes to one of the pictures. The last one he took of you before he messed things up. “No. I did the right thing.”

“You still didn’t tell me why you broke things up with Y/N,” Sam presses on. He tries to get answers for almost four months. No such luck. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Dean lies. He slams the album shut and flings it across the room. 

“After all these years you should know that you cannot lie to me, Dean,” Sam picks the album up to place it on Dean’s bed. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Dean mimics. “You sound like a broken record, Sammy.”

“DEAN! Just tell me what happened!” Sam angrily says. He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing as Dean still refuses to talk to him.

“What always happens when I have something good in my life,” Dean yells. “I mess things up. I’m like poison and ruin everything I touch. You know that.”

“Dean…” Sam sighs deeply. “Maybe you should talk to her. It’s Christmas in a week.”

“There is no coming back, Sammy. Just leave her be. Y/N will have a better life,” Dean swallows thickly, “without me fucking things up. She’s better with someone else.”

“Y/N loves you. Why would you want her to find someone else?” Sam sits on Dean’s bed. “Do you want me to call her?”

“I said no,” Dean barks. “Y/N deserves better than me or you bug her. She left for a reason. Now stop talking about Christmas, Y/N, and shit.”

“Fine,” Sam gets up to leave Dean’s room. “Just keep me out of this from now on. You cannot bring someone into our family and make me love her like a sister only to chase her away.” The younger brother chokes out. “I’m missing her too.”

Sam storms out of the room and slams the door shut.

“Sam,” you close your eyes as your friend desperately tries to make you talk to him. “Why did you call? Is the world ending again?”

“Y/N, hey,” Sam clears his throat. “I don’t know what happened between you and Dean but,” he huffs as you groan at the other end of the line. “I know you don’t want to hear anything about my brother, but he’s missing you like hell.”

“You got one thing right, Samuel,” you quip. “You do not know what he did. Dean made me leave. He didn’t give me choice. I had to leave.”

“Please come home,” the hunter pleads. “He’s drinking and hiding in his room. It feels like I’m living with a ghost, not my brother.”

“I can’t. I won’t,” you sniffle before hanging up the phone. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Five days before Christmas, …

“Dean you need to change clothing,” Sam chastises. “I know you are missing Y/N. Even if you refuse to admit you have a broken heart, I know you are hurting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean argues. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” huffing Sam points at Dean’s outfit. “You’re wearing the same shirt for days. You didn’t eat, and you emptied a whole bottle of Whiskey.”

“Just leave me to my misery. How about you go to Jody’s place or visit Eileen? I’m good in my room. Alone.”

“You don’t want to be alone on Christmas, Dean. And I won’t leave you all alone.”

Three days before Christmas, …

“Can you believe Sam wanted me to come back?” you huff as Jody pours you a tea. “He doesn’t know what Dean has said and done.”

“No one knows,” Jody’s eyes drop to your middle. “Let me guess. He wanted you to have a normal and safe life. A life without him.”

“He told me that he cannot be a father,” placing your hand on your belly you sniffle. “Dean said he cannot raise our child with me. That he doesn’t want to have even more on his plate.”

“Y/N, I love you but sometimes you are too stubborn for your own good. Dean Winchester is anything but a man able to express his feelings. He would burn the world down for you. You know that.”

One day before Christmas, …

“Sam. Sammy! Saaammy!” Dean calls for his brother. “I will so kill you for all this Christmas decoration shit you put into the library.” He barks. “Sammy!”

The hunter just returned from a solo hunt and is pissed as the monster turned out to be a stray dog.

“Sam didn’t do a thing,” you nervously chew on your lower lip as Dean drops his duffle bags to the ground. He just stares at you for a moment, drinking your changed body in.

“You’re bigger,” he points out. “I mean, your belly has grown… no…I…fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

“I came home for Christmas.”

You nervously look at Dean.

What if you made a grave mistake? What if he kicks you out of the bunker now?

“You came home for Christmas,” he repeats. “I-I’m so fucking sorry,” he drops his keys next to the duffle bags and closes the distance between the two of you to bring you into his arms. “Sweetheart.”

“Jody said I must stop being stubborn, and that I’m not a child anymore. If I want something, I must take the chance to get it.”

“I never meant what I said. I was scared,” he whispers against you. “How shall I raise a child if I don’t know how to be a child? I never was a child. But I want my child to have a childhood, and not grow up a hunter. What if I make the same mistakes my father did?”

“They won’t become hunters,” you whisper in his ear. “We will make sure of it.”

“We,” Dean chokes out. “We...will make sure of it...”

Tags in reblog.