#supernatural dean fanfic

[cosicas-cuquis]

I don't know why it took me so long to start reading this but I'm loving it💗

Crash

Words: 4679 Dean x Reader (w/ Sam x Reader friendship) Warnings: mild language Requested by anonymous Summary: Y/N borrows the Impala to run an errand but things quickly turn south.

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You eyed Dean from the doorway to the library. He was slumped over a huge lore book, looking bored and frustrated. This probably wasn’t the best time to ask but…

”Hey,” you said, walking over and taking a seat in the chair next to him, giving him a small smile. “Slow going?” you asked, taking a closer glance at the text in front of him.

”How can you tell? Am I drooling with boredom?” He sat up and stretched his arms out in front of him.

You squinted down at the book. “Ugh… you know this book you’re reading isn’t bound in the usual type of leather.“

He eyed it uneasily. “What the hell does that mean?”

”I don’t think you want to know…” He gave you a disturbed look. “It’s bound in human skin, Dean.”

He wrinkled his nose and gave the book a look of disgust, like he had something distasteful in his mouth. “What the—“ he pushed it away from him with the eraser side of a pencil. “Thanks, Y/N. I totally didn’t need to eat tonight.”

You gave him an amused look. “No problem.” You considered him for a moment, trying to decide what strategy to take. You leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow. “So, listen…”

That got his attention. You flashed him a smile and he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. “What…”

Seguir leyendo

[goldenispunk]

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

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[cosicas-cuquis]

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My best friend’s wedding Masterlist

Summary: After two years of radio silence your former best friend finally sends you a letter. An invitation to his wedding. The man who never wanted to settle down wants to marry someone who isn’t you. Will you attend his wedding? Will you bear the pain of losing him forever? Will you find someone new? And even more important can you hide the secret you have?

Pairing: former Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic?), Dean x Lisa

Warnings: angst (heavy), unrequited love, heartbreak, sadness, flashbacks (including smut), a secret, lies, tears, more to come

This is partially an AU but the Winchesters and the reader were/are hunters.

Part 1 - The invitation

Part 2 - Plus One

Part 3 - Sharing a secret

Part 4 - Long time no see

Part 5 - Old feelings, new developments

Part 6 - Fight or flight?

Part 7 - The decision

Part 8 - The missing pieces *

Part 9 - Never looking back

Part 10 - My happy ending - Speak now (Dean’s ending)

Part 10 - My happy ending - Defeaning Silence (Sam’s ending)

* includes light smut

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster-deactivat, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana15, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @anushay1998, @voltage-my2dlove, @kmvld, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @chonisberonica, @lonewolf471

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags          

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana15, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter​, @dreaminemz​, @negans-lucille-tblr​, @sadwaywardkid​, @akshi8278​, @hhiggs​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​

My best friends wedding

@sherlockedtash88, @unsung-knight

[softiedingo]

ao3 as always saving lives 🤌🏻

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

@deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester

@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant

@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373

@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[cosicas-cuquis]

They deserve to be happy no matter the universe they're in. I love it💗

Otherverse

Summary: After stepping through the rift, Dean and the reader find themselves in an entirely different universe altogether. Monsters don’t exist, everyone they’ve ever lost is alive and there is some strange dynamic going on with everyone. Luckily they’ve run into themselves to help them out…

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 4,700ish

Warnings: language, mentions of sex

A/N: This fic is such a hot mess and has been hiding in my drafts for oh, five years? Time for it to see the light of day! Please enjoy!

_______________

Seguir leyendo

[imsaunteringvaguelydownwards]

Attempting to finish supernatural as fast as humanly possible without failing school so I can type the words “Dean/castiel” into the ao3 search bar and finally read the 16 years worth of gay fanfiction I know is on there

[strawlessandbraless]

Godstiel but he was crazy horny and obsessed with Dean. Going around preaching the good word of Dean and reading from the Winchester Gospel (supernatural books). He’d put Dean Winchester on all the stained glass windows and replace Jesus on the Crucifix with Dean on the Rack.

[em-ontv]

Soothe and pamper.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: it had been a long week of hunting, and Dean said he was fine… until you came in, of course.

Content: fluff, Dean being needy and overdramatic (and clingy), no use of y/n, Sam being the third wheel (kind of)

English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: 653

Dean Winchester was a master at the "I'm fine" act. After years of being on the hunt, he could brush off a rough week like it was second nature. So, when Sam asked if he was okay after their latest exhausting hunt, he just scoffed, as usual.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Dean said, waving a dismissive hand like he was brushing off a pesky fly, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days chasing after demons across two states.

"Quit worrying, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. This was like Dean's default setting—deny, deflect, and pretend like everything was cool, even if he looked like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

But then, you walked into the room.

As soon as Dean caught sight of you, his entire demeanor shifted. The tough-as-nails hunter, who moments ago had been shrugging off his brother's concern, let out an over-the-top groan so loud it echoed through the bunker.

You barely had a chance to say a word before Dean threw himself into your arms like a wounded soldier returning from battle.

"This week—oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He buried his face into your shoulder with a pitiful groan, his voice muffled against your shirt. "It's been so bad, baby. So bad."

You could feel the weight of his body sag against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

It would've been pathetic if it wasn't so funny.

"I don't know how I made it out alive," Dean continued, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. "The food was nasty, the motel beds were terrible, and don't even get me started on the demons!"

You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled on, completely lost in the comfort of being with you.

"Do you see this?" He gestured toward his body. "I'm a broken man."

Sam, watching this unfold, rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And Dean ignored him completely.

"You're the only one who understands, sweetheart." He whined, clinging onto you like his life depended on it. "Sam's no help, he doesn't get it."

"Dean," you said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You were fine like five seconds ago."

"What are you talking about?" He squeezed you tighter, feigning innocence. "I was just holding it all in. I didn't want to scare Sammy. But now... now I can finally let it all out."

"Uh-huh," you said dryly. "And how much of this is just you wanting to get pampered?"

Dean gasped in mock offense, pulling back to look at you again. "Me? Using my genuine suffering to get pampered? I would never—"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."

Sam snorted in the background, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "You two are ridiculous," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, what can I do to make it better, Dean?"

He was still leaning heavily into your embrace. "You. Me. Bed. Cuddles... for my emotional well-being, of course."

You smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "And all your troubles will disappear?"

"Exactly," Dean grumbled, sounding so serious you had to hold back a laugh. "Exactly." He sighed, content now, taking advantage of the situation for all it was worth.

"And if you throw in a back rub, I'll be a whole new man by morning." He added, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Alright, drama queen. But only because I know how hard it is to be you." you laughed softly.

"You're the only one who understands." Dean murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

[samsno1]

warnings: sub-ish!dean, breeding kink (whoops!)

sorry, i'm a sucker for sub dean, dont blame me

He was mesmerized, looking at where your bodies connected, as your slick made his dick shine under the poor lightning of the motel. He refused to tear his eyes away from it.

You were gripping him so tight and so good, the way you clenched around him making him practically whimper in your ear. You were eager to take more out of him, his noises bringing even more arousal to your hazy mind.

He held your hips strongly, his fingers squeezing everytime you grinded your hips back on his. His head was burried in your neck leaving wet kisses and dark hickeys where he could. Dean was desperate for you.

"You feel s'good" He panted and you groaned. He sounded high, drunk on your scent and the smell of sex that filled the room. "So warm and so, fuck- and so tight, God, please"

He sobbed, your hands roaming his back, one of them going up to his hair. You tug on it, making Dean let out a high pitched groan. Your mouth comes closer to his ear.

"Tell me what you want baby" Your voice deep with desire. A shiver runs down his spine and his hips falter slightly at your slight dominance. "You wanna fill me up, hm? Go around telling everyone that you were the one who fucked a baby in me?"

Dean moaned at that, one of his hands unconsciously went to rest over your belly, gently pressing over it. You had to supress a moan as the weight of his hand made his cock seem to be deeper.

"G- Please, please, I'll do anything" He lifted his head to leave a sloppy kiss over your lips, his forehead glued to yours "I'll fill you up so g-uh good, please baby"

You kissed the side of his mouth, not giving him the satisfaction of an actual kiss. "Do it Dean, just be a good boy and make me cum first" You ordered as your hand caressed his cheek and he viciously nodded, his thumb almost immediately going to circle your clit.

"Y-yes...I will, thank you, thank you" He thanked you and started fucking into you harder, stimulating your clit to make you orgasm so he could get his reward afterwards because, after all, he would always be your good boy.

So, yeah, another drabble. I have a couple requests pending and I apologize for that, life's been kicking my ass lately and I've got no motivation to write whatsoever, enjoy the drabbles while I come back to normal LMAO

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[cosicas-cuquis]

Why don’t you just rip my heart out of my chest with your bare hands it would have hurt less💔😭 Holy fuck, it broke my soul, it was so twisted but so good.

The Beat Of Your Heart

A Supernatural Story

~ Friends become lovers who turn into the darkest evil that one can endure... ~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader; Michael!Dean x F!Reader

8,587 Words

NSFW, Fluff, Cute Banter, Friends To Lovers, There Was Only One Bed!?, All the Sex, Passionate Love, Hope, *record scratch*, Extreme Angst, Violence, NonCon, Torture, Blood, Major Character Death

For @jacklesversebingo “Friends to Enemies to Lovers” square

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

She wasn’t bound by metal or rope. He hadn’t held her down with force or threatened her obedience with a blade. He had simply invited her to sit in the plush white armchair in front of the large wall of windows and she’d complied. 

As the sky darkened over the Chicago skyline, she sat with a blank expression, utterly frozen by fear. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she held her hands clasped in her lap. She waited for him to speak, to move, to attack- she had no idea what was coming and it terrified her more than the icy flight he’d taken her on. 

Ripped off her feet in the middle of the street, he’d wrapped an arm around her middle and taken to the skies. The air was frigid; his grip unyielding. She’d hid her face from the cold, cringing into the lapels of his coat, and held on as tightly as she could. 

Minutes? An hour? A Day? She had no idea how long they moved through the clouds, but it was long enough to say a prayer and beg for help. 

There was no answer except his callous laughter in her ear. 

“They’re not coming to save you.” 

Those were the only words he’d spoken before and since. 

Y/N watched as he got comfortable. He took off his cap and carefully shed his coat. The ensemble was strange and only added to the unease in her gut. 

Dean would never wear something so tailored, so proper. 

Michael wore it well. 

He paid her no mind while walking around the posh suite. He hung his coat in the closet and placed his cap on the empty shelf above the rail. He checked his countenance in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, setting it back in place after the long, windy flight. 

Y/N let her eyes turn to the room. Despite his seeming familiarity with the area, the place seemed untouched. The bed was made with crisp corners and perfect lines. Every fiber of the white carpet was fluffed and in place; every pillow on the couch was plump. The walls were paneled in dark mahogany wood, interspersed with calming muted blue trim and highlights. Prints of black and white cities hung catty corner on the walls by the door, and dual vases of tall white orchids framed the large bed. Everything was in perfect order, fit for a celebrity in residence.

The seating area she occupied held a bar to the left and Michael busied himself there, filling two crystal glasses halfway with scotch. 

He held one up to the window, letting the evening sun shine through. He turned it slowly and a tiny rainbow swept across his cheek. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off of it, or him. 

Michael’s eyes turned to her and narrowed. He rounded the bar and offered her the glass in his right hand. She hesitated but ultimately took it. One last drink for the doomed. 

“I’ve never had a taste for alcohol,” Michael said, settling into the chair opposite her. “But Dean’s… tongue seems to enjoy it.”

She shivered at the name, at the idea that Dean was sitting there but not. That Dean’s voice was speaking to her but not. She raised her glass and mustered up the courage to go down without giving him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. 

“To your health,” she toasted. 

He grinned and lifted his tumbler. “To yours.”

Michael took a delicate sip, but Y/N drank hers down in three hard gulps, hoping the sting would clear her head and the alcohol would steel her nerves. 

“Gluttony… How quaint.”

Michael never seemed to blink. His eyes stayed clear and focused on her face no matter how she reacted or moved. 

“Yeah, well, I was thirsty.” She clung to the glass as if it were the only thing holding her together. Her fingers tensed so tightly over the intricate designs cut into the sides, she wondered if she would bleed. “So, this is your… lair or whatever?”

He laughed gently at the term. “It’s just a room.”

Y/N nodded and looked away as if scanning the decor. “You bring all your victims here?” 

Michael took another drink. “Only the special ones.” 

“I’m special?” Y/N managed an impressed laugh. “Well, at least I got that goin’ for me.” She went to take another sip and remembered she was out of scotch. Holding up the glass, she shook it a bit and nodded towards the bar. “You mind?” 

Michael nodded slowly and Y/N managed to peel herself off the chair and walk on shaky legs to the bar. 

“Do you not think you are special?” he asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her. 

“Not at the moment, no.” Y/N unscrewed the bottle and tipped it into her glass. She drank it down quickly and refilled. Drunk was better than feeling the pain of whatever was coming. 

“Dean certainly believed that you were. He… begged me not to harm you.” 

His words stung her deep and she knocked back a third shot. 

“Oh?” 

“He’s… struggling even now.” Michael rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “He’s screaming… beating his fists… ordering me to set you free.” 

Y/N swallowed back the hurt and guilt. “Yeah, that sounds like Dean.” A fourth pour filled her glass. “He probably won’t stop, so maybe you should just vacate and go about your business in another suit.” 

Michael exhaled sharply and the lights flickered. His hand opened and closed over the arm of the chair, tensing over the fabric in an attempt to calm himself. 

He growled. “Come sit, Y/N.” 

She grabbed the bottle and followed his command. 

Michael set his unfinished scotch on the glass coffee table next to them and sat back, his spine straight, his face a cool mask of authority. 

“You need to contain your… attitude.”  

The sharpness in his voice forced fear to coat her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms and chest as she sat down, pressing as far into the back of the chair as she could. 

“Hard not to be sassy when you’re on your deathbed.” She hid her shaking hand by gripping the glass and taking a heavy sip. “Kinda wanna go out with a bang.” 

She expected anger to follow, but Michael tipped his head to the side, curiously staring at her. 

“You are special, aren’t you?” He leaned forward a bit, peering deeper into her soul. 

Y/N could feel the prying gaze as if he were methodically peeling back her being layer by layer. A tightness closed around her heart and she held her breath for fear of crying out. 

“Dean was right in that assertion.” Michael dipped his chin and his eyes glowed a faint blue as a trickle of his Grace seeped free. “I have no concept of physical beauty, but… your… soul is quite intriguing. Your mind…” 

The intrusive feeling worked its way up to her head and Y/N felt as if her brain were swelling. A migraine-like throbbing began at her temples and she shut her eyes tight. 

“...Very impressive…” He licked his lips slowly as if tasting her essence. “Not overly intelligent, but you do make up for it in… what do they say? Personality.”

She wanted to snap back with a witty dig, but the pain worsened. His Grace prodded her mind and the throbbing grew worse, spreading across her scalp and localizing between her eyes. The bottle and glass fell to the floor as she grabbed her head. The amber liquid ran free, soaking into the pure white carpet. 

Pain spread like fire through a labyrinth, following the pathways between the gray matter of her brain.  “S-stop!”

Impressed, Michael’s mouth turned up in a half smile, and he dug in deeper. 

“The way your human brains work is so… fascinating.” 

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, unable to focus. She clawed at the sides of her head, desperate to ease the pain or at least divert it. 

“Electrical impulses shoot through every cell, keeping the brain alive… controlling the body… but the real you- your… soul… is in there as well.”

Nausea struck her and Y/N doubled over, dry heaving with her head between her knees. “Please! Stop…”

“What you perceive as ‘You’ is crammed up in the folds and crevices of your physical brain and yet… If I take you away… The brain still functions.” 

She hit the floor with a trembling cry. The vice in her head was tightening and she was sure she’d be gone in less than a minute. 

“So what good is your soul, Y/N?” he asked, falling to one knee and hovering over her. Curled in the fetal position, she had no defenses against his hand, or the Grace he pushed harder into her skull. “What are you if not a heavenly battery?” Michael traced a finger slowly down her cheek and the pain stopped. 

With a gasping breath, she sat up and scrambled away. She coughed hard, blinked to clear her vision, and tried to stand. Her legs were numb, her arms practically useless. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, barely a whisper above her tears. 

Michael spread his hands in a holy gesture. “Because I can. Because it’s slowly killing your lover.”

Her eyes went wide. Tears stung but she refused to look away. “Dean?” 

“Yes.” Michael smiled softly. “He’s fighting me. Clawing at me.” He sighed. “He wants you safe but… I think this is more fun.” 

Her stomach churned. “This is fun for you?” 

He shrugged. “Not really, but it is amusing hearing him beg for your life.” Michael closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Dean plead and threaten. “So sad.” 

Panting, Y/N fell forward onto her hands and knees. She was as close to him as she dared get, and she grit her teeth, hoping Dean could hear her. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Michael laughed. 

“You pathetic excuse for an archangel.” Her body ached but she pushed on, watching the twitch in his jaw as his anger surged. “I’ve met angels. Hell, I fucked one once. But you- you are no angel…” 

Electric blue flashed through his eyes and Michael sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure you wish to continue?”  

Y/N pushed herself up, rising as he did. “Oh, I am. You distorted, alternate universe, bland Xerox copy of an angel.” She swayed on her feet but defiance kept her upright even as Michael towered over her. “I’m amazed you can even possess Dean, you weak excuse for the Commander of the Holy Hosts.”

Having had enough of her, Michael lifted his left hand and sent Y/N flying back towards the window with a burst of ethereal strength. Her scream echoed through the room, covered only by the sound of glass as it shattered around her. 

Pushed through the window, Y/N felt a moment of pure weightlessness before gravity took hold. Her body was pulled by the ground and she began to plummet the twenty-seven stories to the cement below. 

She held her breath against the rushing wind and the sting of a million shards of glass cutting into her flesh. 

She stared up into the pink dusk of sunset and said goodbye to the world, to Dean, to everything above and below.

“Holy shit!” Y/N doubled over, hands clutching her knees as she panted, amazed and out of breath from the fight. “That was insane.”  

Dean rushed up behind her. His boots came into view and Y/N looked up in time to see him collapse against the Impala’s hood. He leaned back and exhaled heavily. His face was splashed in blood; the left pocket of his green canvas jacket torn by fangs.

She cringed and reached for his pocket. “Did it bite you?”

Swallowing hard, Dean shook his head and reached into the canvas. “No. Just took a chunk out of my damn phone.” He pulled the useless thing out and flashed her the screen. It was punctured by a single hole that shattered the glass in a thick web. 

“Well, it’s… just a screen,” she said hopefully. “They can replace it.”

With an annoyed brow lifted, Dean flipped the device over and showed the three additional holes piercing through the phone.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

She laughed. 

He rolled his eyes and shoved the ruined cell back into his pocket. “Fucking dogs.” 

Y/N’s initial shock returned and her jaw dropped. “Right? Have you ever seen a pack of demon-possessed dogs before? How- What?”

Dean laughed this time. “I have not.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and pulled away a glob of fur and blood. “Ew.” 

Y/N tried to politely hide the fact that she nearly gagged as he flicked the muck aside. 

“You’ve got a bit…” He pointed at her throat and then gestured to his own, showing her where to search. 

“Oh, come on!” She beat at the side of her neck and smacked the mess away. “So gross!” 

“Could be worse.”

“How?”

Dean looked from her to the house they’d left behind and shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know.” 

Laughter trickled between them. 

“I’m glad you called,” Dean said offhandedly as his gaze returned to her. “I’d hate to hear through the grapevine that you’d been ripped to shreds by a pack of wild purebreds.” 

Y/N ran a hand over her hair and tugged at her ponytail, tightening the elastic. “I’m so confused. Why purebred poodles? Why?”  

Dean shook his head and bit his lip, just as confused. “Wish I could tell you I understood this shit. I don’t. I just kill it.” 

She let out a heavy breath and lay a hand on her chest. “Fuck, my heart is beating so fast!” Amazed, she took a step closer to Dean. “Feel it-” Taking his hand, she covered her heart. 

He could feel it pounding, racing to restore blood flow to the proper areas while her muscles relaxed. “Damn…” 

He didn’t move to pull back and she didn’t cringe. They stood in the newborn quiet for a moment, just enjoying the fact that they were alive and the problem had been solved. 

When awkward struck hard, Dean smiled shyly and took a step back. 

Y/N coughed a bit under her breath and looked away. 

He cleared his throat.

“So, yeah-” 

“You wanna-”

He froze. “I’m sorry?” 

She laughed. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go grab some food. I’m strangely starving.” 

Dean exhaled away a breath of worry and licked his lip. “As long as you’re buyin’ I’m eatin’.” He fished the car keys from his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side. 

“Me?” Y/N followed to the car, yanking open the passenger door with a loud creak of metal on metal. “I saved your life in there, man. I think you owe me.” 

He paused with one foot in the car and squinted over the roof. “Who saved who now?” 

“I saved you,” she said again, hopping in. “That hair-bowed bitch had you by the short an’ curlies before I got to you.” 

The leather crackled under his weight and the door eeked shut. “I had it under control.” 

“Sure you did.”

He turned the key and shot her a look over his shoulder as she settled into the seat. She was sassy and cute, and only slightly annoying. He liked hanging out with her, so he’d give her this one. 

“Well…” The engine roared to life and he cranked it into gear. “Thanks.”   

Y/N rolled down the window and took a breath of fresh air. A smile lit her lips and she sighed happily. He was fun. Annoying and stupid at times, but brave and kind. She liked being around him, so she decided not to push it too far. But a little never hurt anybody. 

“You can thank me with extra cheese.”

Dean laughed. “Deal.”

Y/N woke with a gasping scream, finding herself safe on the plush mattress and not splattered like a bug on the Chicago pavement. 

Michael was nearby, tinkering with something on the dresser by the foot of the bed. 

She cleared her throat and felt each rip her screams had caused. “What happened?” 

Michael turned his head, slowly looking over his shoulder at her. “You were angering me, so I stopped you.” 

Her heart was racing, terror pulsing through her limbs. She sat up against the pillows. “You- You pushed me out of the fucking window!” 

The glass-less window showed her the truth, letting in cold streams of air and the faint sounds of traffic below. 

“I did warn you.” 

The icy air hit her skin and Y/N looked down to see that she was naked. A hundred tiny cuts marred her arms and neck, but they no longer bled. Michael had healed them enough to keep her alive. He’d saved her from being crushed by gravity and concrete, but for what?

Y/N hugged her chest and crossed her legs, hiding her body as best she could. 

“Why did you save me?” she asked, calmer yet trembling. 

Michael turned around and she saw that his clothing had been reduced to a simple white t-shirt and plain white boxers. She shivered at the sight. Dean’s broad shoulders, muscular arms, thick thighs- but it was wrong. So wrong. 

“I wasn’t finished with you,” he replied simply. “I’m not through… examining you.” 

Her stomach flipped. “Examining me?” 

“Studying… observing… experimenting.” 

The word dried her mouth, tugged at her heart, flashed horrific scenes behind her eyes. “What- what are you going to do to me?” 

A bit of metal flashed in his hand as he approached. He held the scalpel tight between two fingers and knelt on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and Y/N cowered higher up against the padded headboard.

“I’ve looked into your mind, Y/N.” 

He came closer and fear blurred her vision. 

“I’ve tasted your soul.” 

Unexpectedly, he reached over and set the blade down on the nightstand. Y/N held her breath as he bridged over her body, refusing to sully the memory of Dean’s scent. 

“Now I want to know the rest of you.” 

Her brow furrowed with question but it was soon answered. Michael lay his palm against her cheek and Y/N shivered at the cool touch. Slowly, he dragged his fingers down to grip her chin and lift it upward. 

“I want to know… why Dean thinks you are so… incredible that he’s willing to trade his life… for yours.”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t.” 

Michael grinned devilishly and pressed his lips to hers. 

The intimacy was torture. 

She remembered the push of Dean’s lips, every line of his chapped skin, the rhythm, the taste. Michael’s kiss was different. There was no swift breath escaping to float across her cheek; no desperate pressure behind it, no hunger. It was clinical, as if Michael had studied a textbook explaining the basic mechanics of the act. 

When he pulled back, he cocked his head and peered down at Y/N as if she had done something wrong. 

“It’s… rather… pointless, isn’t it?” he asked. 

Y/N stiffened and tried to squirm away, but Michael placed a heavy hand on her stomach, halting any movement. 

“What is?” 

“Kissing,” he clarified. “It’s crude and unsanitary.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. “If you think that’s unsanitary, you should try oral.” 

His eyes widened with the sparkling idea and Y/N shook her head quickly. 

“No. No. It was… just a joke. You’re so right. Kissing is disgusting. I hate it. I hate kissing.”

“Dean recalls that you enjoyed it.” He bent down again, this time letting his breath coast across her lips. “He has many memories of your body, your… lips… the way you kissed him. He appeared to savor it.”

Again, he kissed her. This time, he drew from the memories he had stolen from his host, and the kiss was warmer, deeper. She shuddered when his tongue pushed through her lips, cringed when he licked the roof of her mouth. She wouldn’t engage, refusing to kiss him back. When he wouldn’t relent, she shoved at his chest and he pulled back, eyes bright with rage. 

“Did you not learn from your skydive earlier?” He grabbed the offending hand and twisted her wrist. The bone cracked and Y/N screamed as he shoved her arm into the pillow by her head. “Do not resist me.” 

Pain splintered up her arm and heat swelled around her wrist. She had felt worse before, but it had never been his hands, never been his face. 

“Please…” 

She cried through a heavy sob but Michael was unmoved by her pain.

Continuing his investigation, Michael licked at her lips once more. His lips trailed across her jaw and settled on her throat. “You will not fight me,” he warned. He pressed his lips against her pulse and closed his eyes, listening to the artery work. “You will submit.”

Y/N’s skin crawled and rebellion raged inside her. Dean wouldn’t want her to lay there helplessly whimpering. He’d tell her to fight no matter what. 

“If you gotta go, go down swinging.”

She took a breath and brought her knee up as fast and hard as she could, jamming it into his crotch. 

The angel fell back, not in pain, but surprise. 

He straightened up and grit his teeth, seething. The lights flickered and Y/N braced herself for whatever punishment she had coming. 

Instead of widespread pain doled out by invisible force, Michael balled his fist and swung at her. Unprepared, Y/N didn’t even attempt to move out of the way, and his knuckles sunk into her cheek. 

Another jolt of pain, another snapped bone. She screamed behind the hand he closed over her mouth. 

Leaning back down, Michael inched close to her face, green eyes twitching over the skin, watching as the blood vessels ruptured and oozed beneath the surface. 

“Miraculous…” 

It wasn’t just the pain, she could handle that. 

It was the way his eyes ticked over her face. The eyes that she loved, now utterly corrupted. 

It was the way his knuckles broke through her bones. The knuckles she had so often kissed, now brought devastation. 

It was the way his face contorted with clinical interest; the way words fell from familiar lips with otherworldly cadence. The voice she had loved her whole life, the lips she had kissed a thousand times, the face she dreamt of every night: it was infected with all the evil that Heaven could produce. 

Sick with pain, but flooded with spirited, dumb courage, Y/N pulled back her lips and sank her teeth into Michael’s palm. 

The punishment was severe. 

Another broken bone, another prodding investigation as the welt blossomed on her nose and her right eye sealed shut.

“You will behave.” 

Out of hope, Y/N agreed. “Yes. I’m- I’m sorry. I’ll behave!” Her voice sounded foreign, so defeated and raspy she barely recognized herself. 

Michael’s eyes glowed a bright, piercing blue. “I know you will.” 

She felt it again, that startling and somehow arousing burst of sensation as his Grace flowed into her. It worked on her instantly: stretching her arms out across the bed and spreading her legs wide. It locked her head in place and pulled her jaw slack. Not a muscle could move by her will, not a sound could be made except the quick, panting breaths that left her lips. 

She was frozen, held captive by his heavenly magic. 

Her eyes filled with tears as he straddled her hips, making himself more comfortable now that she was agreeable. 

The blue faded back to green, but the Grace stayed inside of her, holding her still. Without her resistance, Michael was free to inspect every inch of her body, inside and out. 

He reveled at the length and thickness of her eyelashes, plucking one from each open lid and tested them against each other. 

He pulled her lips further apart and ran his fingers through her mouth, feeling each minuscule bump on her tongue, the cut of each tooth, the strands of muscles lining her throat. 

Horror flashed through her eyes, unable to swallow or gag as he forced his hand deeper down her esophagus. With the passage obstructed, her breathing became heavy and labored. Her heart struggled and Michael counted each tick of the muscle. 

“So… intricate.” His wet fingers traced her collarbone. “So mechanical, every bit of you.” Scooting down, Michael set his sights on her chest. He ran his palm across her right breast and marveled as her nipple hardened at his chilly touch. “Humans truly are works of art…” He toyed with it, pinching and flicking, tugging hard and rolling gently. 

Y/N couldn’t shy away or even close her eyes as his unwanted touch continued. 

Fascinated, Michael swirled his tongue over her nipple. Her skin warmed and he felt the faint increase in temperature. Moving to the left side, he bit down on her tit and watched as blood met the indentation. He groped both breasts, kneading and pinching like he’d seen Dean do in his memories. 

Y/N couldn’t help the automatic flush of her body or the way her pussy throbbed and leaked. She could only pray that he wouldn’t notice, that he wouldn’t understand. 

Michael felt everything. He heard the blood as it rushed to her sex, smelled the arousal, and sensed her heat rise. 

“I have watched humans for eons… but never have I observed a body so… closely.”

Her eyes burned. She screamed inside. 

Michael slid a hand down her body and pressed it flat between her thighs. 

If she could have moved, she would have fought. She would have raged and kicked and thrashed at him. She would have fought until her body gave out and she had no choice but to jump through the broken window. She would have fallen happily. 

His touch was worse than death.

The wetness he touched made his eyes widen and his lips curl into a rapt smile. He dipped his fingers into her cunt, pulling out the warm slick and examining it closely. 

“How… wondrous.” 

Falling down, Michael jabbed his tongue between her folds and lapped at her hole, sucking the wetness and swallowing it down. His angelic mind calculated every molecule, sorting out cells and mapping its creation. As he licked, he saw her pussy respond. Blood filled her clit, making it hard. The skin of her lips darkened. He watched the muscles clench and heard the blood pump. 

“Blood… is everything, isn’t it?” He floated back up to look into her paralyzed face. “It is in every part of you, controlling your muscles, allowing your mind to churn, your cunt to ache. It’s… the perfect fluid.”

Y/N prayed for release. She called to Castiel, to Gabriel, to any and every angel she’d ever met and those whose names she’d only read on the thin pages of her father’s bible. 

Michael wiped a tear from her cheek. “They cannot help you, Y/N.”

She called to Rowena; she screamed for Jack. 

“No one can hear your prayers. You’re with me and I am hidden from all.”    

He held her gaze, listening to her thoughts. In one final, pathetic attempt for help, she cried for Dean. If he was in there, if Michael could see Dean’s memory, then maybe Dean could see through his eyes. 

Help me…

Michael laughed softly and kissed her forehead. “Nice try.” 

Her heart beat against its cage, thrumming faster and harder as she realized there was no end to the torture and no cavalry on its way to save her. 

Distracted by the pounding beat, Michael dropped his hand to her chest, covering her heart. He closed his eyes and felt each thump, heard the valves opening and closing, allowing the sacred wine to flow through. 

“Blood…” he whispered, entranced by the rhythmic palpitations. “Each beat keeping you alive… and for what?”

“I’m so glad you called, Dean. It’s really nice to see you.” 

Her whisper invaded his senses, making him temporarily forget that they were trapped in a closet together with death tiptoeing beyond the door. Dean held his breath when she looked up at him. In the dark, she looked so small and delicate, like a thing he needed to cradle and protect. The light streaming in through the seams of the door struck her face in the most beautiful ways, highlighting the curl of her lashes and the turn of her upper lip. She pressed in closer, simply trying to readjust herself in the cramped space, and Dean found himself against a rock and a soft place. His blood surged south and he had to shake the idea away lest she feel it too. 

He cleared his throat gently and stood up straighter, hoping to give himself an inch or seven. “Yeah, well, you could have ignored the call.”

She let out a faint laugh. “I could have. But then where would we be?” 

“Not hiding in this closet, that’s for sure.” 

Y/N bit her lip and stared up at him as he squirmed. The light was hitting his chin and the long line of his neck. She could see the hint of a scar by his ear and the shadow of a beard creeping up. He looked so big like this. So broad and muscular, safe. She swallowed hard and prayed he couldn’t feel how hot she suddenly was. 

“Jokes aside,” she whispered. “I am glad. I missed you.” 

Her smile was soft and he wanted to press the tips of his fingers to her lips and feel the pull. 

“Me too…” 

Realization struck them both like lightning and for the first time in years, they were on the same page. Attraction hit like a tidal wave and they both jerked back as far as they could, taking to the tiny corners of the dusty old closet in the back of that long hall in that big house on a hill in Tannersville. 

“Um… Dean?” 

He breathed in deeply, instantly regretting it as the sweet perfume of her shampoo flooded his brain and made his mouth water. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking, maybe- I mean if we ever get outta here-”

An inconvenient fact reared its face and broke the moment. The witch they were dealing with threw something against a wall nearby and the closet shook. Her wretched screech echoed through the darkness and Dean jumped, pressing one hand to his ear and the other to his gun.

“How ‘bout we, uh- put a pin in this. Yeah?” 

Y/N winced at the sharp pitch of the witch’s scream and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Murder first, chat later. Gotcha!”

“Hey, it’s not murder if she’s an evil bitch.”

“Let’s debate semantics later, shall we?” Y/N gripped her blade tight. 

He grinned and reached for the doorknob. “After you…”

“Such a gentleman.” 

“Always.” 

The witch went down with more than a bit of a fight and the friends were too tired later for anything more than a drive-thru burger and a side of aspirin. 

They stuffed their faces with grease and questionable meat; washed it all down with a few warm beers. 

Dean managed to somehow smear ketchup on his ear and Y/N wiped it clear with the only remaining clean napkin. 

Y/N burped so loud that it shook the bed and sent Dean into an impressive fit of laughter.

They took turns showering, and when Y/N was done, she found Dean setting up the couch like a bed, spreading out a spare blanket, and beating a pillow into submission.

She rubbed her hair with the shitty motel towel while watching him. He was down to a single layer of light blue boxers and a tight black tee. His hair was still damp from the shower and spiked up on the top like an early 2000s flashback. She stared a bit too long and was startled when he turned around. 

“Have enough hot water?” he asked. 

Y/N shrugged. “You didn’t quite use all of it. Most. But not all.” 

He grinned and let his eyes fall down her body. She was ready for bed- braless in a purple tank top and loose cotton shorts. She flipped the wet towel onto the floor and Dean realized he was staring too much. 

“You sure you don’t wanna get another room?” she asked, moving over to the bed and tugging the sheet down. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

A dangerous idea sparked in his brain, but he pushed it away. Sure, he could insist on sharing the bed, but there was a line he was too afraid to cross. They’d been friends for so long, sharing thoughts and dreams over text messages. There had been hundreds of video calls late at night when the world was crashing down around them; casual meet-ups when monsters brought them to the same part of the country. Despite how he felt, she’d never given him a hint, so he kept his feelings to himself. 

If he shared the bed, he knew he’d try something. 

If he tried something, she’d have to respond. 

If she rejected him- well, he wasn’t ready to ruin a friendship over a shitty motel room with only one bed. 

“Nah,” he replied, turning back to the sofa. “I’ve slept on worse.” 

Y/N shrugged as if she didn’t care where he slept, but inside she crumbled a bit. It was dumb to assume he’d want to share a bed with her, but she had hoped he might. Hope wasn’t a bad thing, just an annoying inconvenience that generally left her unsatisfied and listless. Hope kept her dreaming that someday he’d finally recognize the chemistry between them. Dreams made her long for his touch, praying that he’d rush at her, scoop her into his big arms, and kiss her so hard the whole world would fade away. Sure, she could make the first move but rejection was worse than hope.

“Cool.” 

Dean hung his head. “Cool.” 

Sleep was a lofty goal that neither could achieve. 

The alarm clock on the nightstand was buzzing slightly as if electricity was leaking out of it and sizzling in the air. Y/N tried to ignore it, but the irritation kept her from shutting her brain off. 

She rolled onto her left side and tucked the blanket between her legs. In the darkness, she could see Dean stretched out on the sofa. He was facing the door but she could make his perfect profile in the shadows. One hand was tucked beneath his head and the other rested on his stomach. Y/N watched it rise and fall with each breath, wondering what he was dreaming about.

She sighed and he shifted a bit, readjusting his hips. 

Her exhale rang in his ears and Dean chewed his bottom lip as he stared at the ceiling. He’d fallen asleep twice, but each time his imagination pushed him awake. He wasn’t sure if it was a dream or his mind running wild, but he saw Y/N lying in his arms, face shimmering and lips wet. He felt her legs quake as he tasted her sweetness. Each time, he’d wake up with an aching cock and unrequited desire.

He huffed gently and she sat up on her elbow. 

“You up?” she whispered, squinting at his silhouette. 

Dean smiled to himself and waved at her over his head. “Why are you?” 

“Dunno. Brain won’t shut up.” She threw back the blanket and the bed creaked as she swung her legs over the side. “Why are you?” 

“Same.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and scratched at the tiny hairs on his jaw. “You wanna get a dr-”

Y/N was at his side before he knew it, biting her lip innocently as she knelt on the sofa. 

His eyes went wide and he sat up a bit. “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.” 

Without asking, she turned and moved to lay down beside him. Dean shifted, pressing himself into the back of the couch to give her room.

“This OK?” she asked, already settling down. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah…” 

She grabbed his hand and tugged his arm to fit around the curve of her waist. 

“And this?” 

He lay down and curled up behind her. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

It took a moment for their bodies to relax, for their brains to interpret the closeness or register the meaning. Y/N nearly kicked herself for taking such a chance, but when she felt Dean relax against her back, she smiled. He pressed his face into her hair and took a breath, nearly moaning when he exhaled. 

Y/N rolled her ass back just an inch, but it was enough to set him on fire. His mind was racing with a thousand imagined scenarios, all ending with her brilliant smile and his name on her lips. His fingers tensed on her stomach and she let out a tiny whimper. 

Slowly, Dean dared to press his cheek against her ear. His hand moved up a fraction of an inch and Y/N dragged a finger across it, caressing his hand and up his arm. 

He kissed her cheek. 

She threaded her fingers into his. 

He breathed hot against her ear. 

She dragged his hand up her stomach, leading him up higher. 

He sucked her earlobe between his lips. 

She shivered and closed his palm over her breast.

He moaned. 

She twisted her neck and found his lips, breaking their friendship with a deep kiss. 

Dean licked into her mouth and his blood boiled, pushing every sensation into hyperdrive. Her lips felt like heaven, her touch was like fire. He palmed her tit, rolled her nipple gently, nibbled on her ear. 

Y/N melted for him. Her body went soft and pliable; her pussy dripped, her breath grew heavy and fast. She could feel how hard he was, pressing into her ass. She snuck a hand between them and rubbed at the tip of his cock. 

Dean hissed and groped her tits a little harder. 

Her fingers snuck into his boxers and she traced a gentle line down his shaft, teasing him. He pinched her nipple hard and her gasping moan filled the room. 

“Fuck, Y/N…”         

Her fingers closed around his thick cock and she arched her back, laying her throat bare for him. 

“You know,” she whispered, “the bed is bigger…” 

Dean turned his wrist and dragged his hand down to her shorts, gently teasing at the elastic hem. “True, but then we wouldn’t be so close.” He kissed her neck.

Her jaw dropped when his warm hand slid down, covering her pussy with light pressure. “Good point.” 

She stroked him slowly as he rubbed her cunt. He licked at her pulse while she caressed his sack. 

When his breath grew hot and fast, Y/N spun around and attacked his lips. She held his face in her hands and pushed every late-night dream, every lonely fantasy into her kiss. She wanted him to feel it. Wanted him to know how long she’d waited to touch him like this; how desperate she’d been to feel his hands on her. 

Dean tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to remember every second and sear it all into his memory, but her lips tugged them closed. Her kiss was so deep, so devastatingly perfect that he couldn’t hold on. His will vanished in a rush of lust and he grabbed at her soft flesh, plucked at her sensitive spots, rolled his hips against her wetness. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groaned, fingers digging into her ass while she bit down on his shoulder. 

Y/N hummed and licked at the bite marks she’d left. “Me too. Fuck, Dean…” 

He pulled her closer and she sat up, straddling his hips as she pulled her tank top off. Dean gripped her hips and stared in awe at her beautiful body writing above him. She rocked down onto him and he had never hated cotton so much. The layers between them prevented his cock from sliding in, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind. She rubbed her slick cunt up and down his shaft, driving them both insane. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Dean sat up and wrapped his arm around her back, holding her tight. He tried to stand but stumbled and Y/N laughed softly while fumbling for balance. 

They made it to the bed without injury; shed their clothes without hesitation. 

Dean pushed her onto her back and licked deep into her mouth. She moaned into him and scratched a hand through his hair. Her legs spread wide for him and Dean kissed his way down her body. She held her breath when his lips pressed into the softness of her inner thigh. 

“Always wanted to taste you,” he breathed, running the tip of his middle finger down her slit. 

Y/N’s legs shook and her fingers tensed over his scalp. “Please…” 

Dean smiled and exhaled gently while slipping his finger into her. She was wet and warm and he hummed darkly. 

“So fucking beautiful…” 

His tongue pressed flat over her pussy and then slid inside, swirling around her clit like a spiral that entranced her body and mind. Y/N squirmed against his mouth, held her breath when the pleasure spiked, tugged on his hair. It was as if her dreams were seeping into reality and God was answering every blasphemous prayer. 

Dean was ravenous, licking her hard and pushing his fingers deeper with each thrust of his wrist. He closed his eyes and listened to the hitch of her breath, the exquisite moans she set free. Every pulse of her cunt on his fingers made his cock twitch. Every buck of her hips made him suckle harder. He wanted to drown in her juices, happy to let this be his last act on earth. 

She came hard and fast, leaking pleasure onto his tongue. 

Dean pushed back enough to see her face. He kept his hand in place, fucking her through the throbbing orgasm even as she tried to push him away. 

“Dean… please…” 

Her brows creased and her lips pushed out in a pout that nearly broke his heart. He floated up to her, climbing up the mattress and shifting his right thigh between hers. She pressed down on the thick muscle and rocked hard as he kissed her again. She tasted herself on his lips and moaned. 

“You’re amazing…” 

Dean’s heart raced at the whispered praise and he kissed across her jaw and down, lapping at her throat and sucking a tiny mark on her shoulder. She scratched a hand down his back and grabbed his ass, tugging him forward. He fell down, his full weight crushing her into the bed. 

Y/N wrapped herself around him, arms and legs holding on tight. With every bit of strength she could muster, she rolled him onto his back and popped up, sitting on his stomach. 

Wide green eyes fell down her body, soaking in the perfect view. 

With the tables turned, Y/N followed his previous trek, laying kisses down the length of his torso and biting his inner thigh. Dean jumped at the sting and then relaxed into nothingness as she licked the head of his cock. 

She kissed and hummed at the peak of him and a drop of precum zinged her taste buds. Enthused, she took him in until she gagged and then pulled back with tightly sealed lips. 

Dean let out a moan that she’d remember until the day she died. His big hand fit against the top of her head, gently guiding her up and down until he was curling in on himself and fighting to hold back. 

“Fuck, Y/N/N… Ya... ya gotta stop or I’m done…” 

She retreated with a loud pop of her swollen lips and Dean reached for her face. He dragged her up and kissed her hard while rolling her back onto the pillow. 

“Want you, Dean…” 

He hummed and shifted between her legs. “Yeah?” 

She nodded quickly and clung to his broad shoulders. “Yes. So fucking bad…”

He nudged at her cunt, dipping his cock in only an inch. She shuddered and her nails sunk into his arms. 

“You OK?” he asked, watching her eyes flutter and her mouth go slack. 

Again, she nodded; her face washed in frustrated agony. “Please…”

He kissed her gently and then set his arms aside her head. 

When he pushed fully in, they both stopped. Time froze around them and for a long moment, there was nothing else in the world. She could feel him trembling and lay her hand on his cheek. He turned towards her hand and kissed her palm. 

There was no banter, no salacious teasing, no further begging. Dean fucked her slowly, taking his time to wind her pleasure back up to the highest point before they both gave in, breaking in each other’s arms and stealing the air from the rest of the world.  

When his pulse steadied, Dean rolled onto his side and held his head in his hand. He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop smiling. 

Y/N felt a wave of shyness as he stared but it was the good kind. She wanted him to keep watching. She reached for his free hand and brought it to her lips, carefully kissing the pads of each finger. 

He sighed happily. “You know… I really think… I mean…” His stomach flipped with nerves and he bit his lip, holding back everything he needed to say.

She laughed gently. “What?” She kissed his middle finger again. 

He took a deep breath. “I think I could really fall for you.” 

A soft smile turned her lips. “I’m pretty sure you already have.” 

His cheeks burned. His soul felt at ease. Dean laid his hand over her heart and felt the steady beat. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re right…”

Y/N felt each swipe of the scalpel, every drop of blood that leaked from the wounds. Locked and awake inside her immoble body, she tried to think of other things, to keep her mind away from the torture. She called up old dreams, sacred poems, and blissful moments with Dean. 

Whenever she drifted, Michael pulled her back. 

He kissed her again and again, breathing more Grace into her body to keep her alive. The deeper he cut, the harder his magic worked. The wounds lay open and he dipped his fingers or tongue inside, learning her flesh, tasting, feeling everything. 

His expression was crazed but childlike. He truly wished to understand everything about her, to figure out why she was so important, why God loved his pathetic creations more than his firstborn sons.

Most of all, he marveled over her heart. He listened closely to the flow of blood, trying different techniques to make it quicken or slow. If he stopped her breathing, her heart would race and then halt. If he cut an artery, it would slowly pump her life force out onto the crisp white sheets, staining the bedding in deep crimson. If he stimulated her sex, it would race and skip, meeting his touch. 

Twice, he’d killed her only to bring her back. He wanted to hear the absolute death of her heart and before kicking it back into motion. 

Y/N remembered every second, felt the pull of his Grace waking her back up. She had long ago given up on prayer, and sank into the pain, letting it consume her soul. She deserved to bleed. She couldn’t save Dean, couldn’t help him in any way. She deserved the torment. 

“Human skin is so… delicate,” Michael mused, running the razor edge down the length of her chest, splitting the flesh wide. “So… easily broken…” Again, he dragged the blade through her, deepening the gash until he saw a peek of white bone. “Like your hearts.”

Y/N screamed as intense pain shot through every bit of her. 

Michael pushed the bleeding meat aside and exposed her ribcage. 

She felt every touch and her vision faded. Consciousness was slipping away and she welcomed the darkness like an old friend. 

“No, no, Y/N,” he whispered, laying a hand on her cheek. “Stay with me.”  

Grace jolted her awake and she cursed him with everything she had. He heard her silent blasphemy and smiled. 

“Don’t you understand? You’re doing a good thing. You’re helping me.” 

Digging into her chest, Michael wrapped two fingers between the fourth rib on each side. 

“You’re teaching me.”

He pulled his hands apart and her sternum splintered. The cage tore open and Y/N felt the terrifying sensation of cool air on her lungs. 

“You’re teaching Dean that I will always win.” 

He ignored her screams and pressed his fingers to her exposed heart, observing the blood pumping from the source.

“No matter how he screams, how he… begs, claws, fights… I will always win.” 

On a whim, Michael shifted to sit between her legs. Watching her heart, he pulled his cock free and tapped her clit with the tip. 

Y/N struggled to break the spell, to move, to scream, but there was no escape. Her fate was sealed. 

“Interesting…” 

The muscle pumped faster. Michael narrowed his gaze on the aorta and slipped his stiff cock into her vagina. Blood moved quicker, the aorta swelled, the beats quickened. He grinned. 

“How exquisite.”

The faster he fucked her, the harder her heart beat. He watched like a scientist, tracking individual blood cells as they moved through her system, rushing through the expansive highway of veins to visit every part of her body. When they returned to the heart, he chose another part to focus on until he had learned all that he could.

There wasn’t much left of her mind, only a fading memory of her first kiss with Dean. That single, exhilarating instance when friends became more, and this vile moment was far, far away. 

Michael knelt between her thighs and straightened up, fully filling Dean’s impressive form. He looked deep into Y/N’s frozen face and felt a surge of pride and understanding. 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Inside, Dean was fighting. He tore at his cell, screamed and cursed until his throat filled with blood and then started all over again.

Michael leaned close and kissed her lips, retrieving his Grace and setting her free. 

Her shrieks shook the room, but Michael had no pity for her. She was simply a thing to him now. A toy made of cells and air and blood. 

He snapped his fingers and her neck, finally giving her peace. 

Dean had seen every moment, felt his hands digging into her chest cavity, tasted her blood on his lips. 

Insane with grief and enraged beyond what he could truly feel, he let out a surge of strength that tickled Michael’s insides. 

“Calm down, Dean. It’s over.” 

You fucking monster!

“Now, now… Relax.”

I’m going to kill you. I’m going to rip you apart.

Michael wiped the blade clean on the ruined bedsheet and smiled. 

“Good luck.”  

[jibberjibbsart]

Supernatural “Power Hour” Part 11

Hm that monster isn’t native to Gravity Falls 🤔

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[jellyfishcharm]

i was doing some ao3 research (don’t ask) and i have never seen supernatural but i don’t understand how destiel has such a chokehold on fandom. this is genuinely insane.

LOOK AT THEM. everyone else is so close in numbers of works and destiel is 40,629 works ahead is crazy. and it just keeps growing as well. in 2023 they had only 102,783 and were 39,397 works ahead. nobody is ever catching up to them. no ship will ever compare to the chokehold destiel has on ao3