Dean X Reader - Blog Posts

pardon me,just thinking about soulless sam and mark of cain!dean existing at the same time. like,just imagine them working a case together and asking people insensitive questions in the most direct way possible.

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Heartbeat Symphony:

Summary: After a long day on the road, the couple finds solace in the comfort of the Impala. The story explores the quiet moments between hunts, emphasizing the deep connection and love they share. Back at the bunker, they unwind together, appreciating the simplicity of being a team both in and out of the field. The narrative highlights the strength of their bond and the sense of home they find in each other's company.

A Messy Christmas Surprise:

Summary: Dean and the reader are baking Christmas treats at the bunker while Sam is on a hunt. Amidst the festive chaos, Dean cracks an egg on the reader's head, leading to a playful flour fight. Dean then picks the reader up over his shoulder, and they share a laughter-filled moment. Sam returns, finding the kitchen in disarray, and discovers Dean and the reader surrounded by flour and baking ingredients. The messy holiday surprise becomes a memorable Christmas memory for the Winchester trio.

Sam Winchester

Christmas Tides:

Summary: Sam Winchester surprises the reader with a heartfelt gift and invites them to share a quiet and cozy night together away from hunting. The two exchange stories, laughter, and meaningful glances. As snow falls outside, they find a moment of respite and connection, sealed with a sweet kiss under the mistletoe.

Reluctant Guardian:

Summary: After Sam gets injured on a hunt alone, Castiel sends a trustworthy angel to heal him. There's a catch though, the reader and Sam seem to butt heads all the time

Castiel Novak

Angelic Apologies:

Summary: When a routine day in the bunker takes an unexpected turn, the reader accidentally punches Castiel in the face. Filled with guilt, apologies pour forth, only to be silenced by a surprising and passionate kiss from the celestial being. As the reader hesitates and pulls away, Castiel delivers a romantic yet slightly creepy declaration, showcasing his unique understanding of human interactions.

Heavenly Christmas:

Summary: Castiel experiences Christmas traditions for the first time with the Winchester brothers and the reader. As they decorate the tree and exchange gifts, Castiel learns about the holiday spirit. The story culminates in a magical moment under the mistletoe, where Castiel and the reader share a sweet kiss, making it a Christmas to remember for everyone involved.

Rowena MacLeod

Enchanting Christmas:

Summary: Rowena, the enchanting witch, confesses to the reader that the holiday season has awakened new emotions within her. The two share a magical moment, culminating in a kiss that transcends the ordinary. As they celebrate the festive season together, they discover the unexpected joy of love in the midst of holiday magic.

Jack Kline

Mistletoe Moments:

Summary: As the holiday season wraps its magic around the bunker, Jack Kline finds himself intrigued by the mysterious allure of mistletoe. Little does he know that this Christmas will bring about more than just festive decorations.

Heartbeat Symphony

AHHHH i love this man too much lmao. this is short and sweet so have fun my lovelies!

how have i not written for this man yet like-

Dean Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used

Summary: After a long day on the road, the couple finds solace in the comfort of the Impala. The story explores the quiet moments between hunts, emphasizing the deep connection and love they share. Back at the bunker, they unwind together, appreciating the simplicity of being a team both in and out of the field. The narrative highlights the strength of their bond and the sense of home they find in each other's company.

Heartbeat Symphony

Dean Winchester sat in the driver's seat of the Impala, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel as he glanced over at you. The rhythmic hum of the engine was the backdrop to the comfortable silence that filled the car. You had been on the road for hours, chasing down the latest lead on a case, and now the two of you were finally heading back to the bunker.

As Dean drove, he stole glances at you, appreciating the way the soft glow from the dashboard highlighted the contours of your face. The quiet moments between hunts were just as precious as the action-packed ones. He reached over, fingers brushing against yours, and a warm smile formed on his lips as he interlaced them.

"You doing okay, Y/N?" Dean asked, his voice a soothing melody that echoed through the Impala.

You nodded, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. "Yeah, just tired. Ready to get back and hit the hay."

Dean chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of you. "Well, we make a damn good team, don't we?"

You smirked, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "The best. Team Winchester."

As the familiar sight of the bunker came into view, Dean couldn't help but feel a swell of contentment. The two of you had been through so much together, and yet, every moment felt like a new adventure with you by his side.

Once inside the bunker, you kicked off your boots and flopped down onto the worn-out couch in the library. Dean joined you, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed against each other. He reached for the TV remote, flicking through the channels until he found an old black-and-white movie.

"You know," Dean said, his arm finding its way around your shoulders, "we make a pretty good team in and out of the field."

You laughed, snuggling closer. "Yeah, we do. I wouldn't want to hunt monsters with anyone else."

Dean turned his head, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Me neither, Y/N."

The movie played in the background, but you found yourself more captivated by the steady cadence of Dean's heartbeat. It was a comforting symphony, a reminder that you were home, safe in the arms of the person you loved.

As the night wore on, you both drifted off to sleep on the couch, tangled together in a mess of limbs and blankets. The bunker echoed with the quiet sounds of the TV and the distant hum of the machinery that kept the place running.

In the darkness, Dean whispered words of love, promises, and gratitude, knowing that every day with you was a gift. And as you slept, you couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of his love surround you like a protective embrace. Together, you faced the challenges that came your way, hand in hand, heart in heart, a team bound by something stronger than any supernatural force – love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i loved writing this OMG!! i can't believe i haven't written for Dean yet. i absolutely adore him so so much lmao

If I write Wally Clark x reader, Rafe Cameron x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, etc. here ranging from fluff to smut to angst would you read it?

Dean Winchester Dating A Native American would include

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Native American Reader. Idea came from @tinymoony

Ever since he found out that you’re a pow wow dancer, he wants to go to more pow wows.(disregard this, if you don't pow wow dance.)

He starts listening to all the Native Rez Songs with you like, NDN car, Come and Get Your Love, and artists like A Tribe Called Red.

He surprisingly loves the music you've shown him.

Whenever there is anything that involves Native American Legends, especially with your tribe, Sam and him always look to you. You have friends all over.

He loves your hair and always plays with it or tries to find a reason to run his hands through it.

He tries all that he can to learn about your culture.

Whenever you guys always hunt near a reservation and go to a bar, other Native guys seem to hit on you.

This gets him jealous because he is not your ethnicity and thinks that you will leave him for those Native guys.(which you probably won’t)

He loves, loves, loooovvvveeesss when you talk in your language. He thinks its such a turn on and would love to hear you talk in it all day.

He especially loves when you say that you love him in your language.

He loves it when you tell him about the legends of your tribe. It makes him feel honored that you would even consider telling him.

There are many fights between who was better, cowboys or indians. You usually win those fights because he can’t think of a good enough reason why cowboys are better.

You finally give into his little cowboy fantasies and become his”indian princess”.

You have tried to tell him that there is no such thing as a Native American princess and that Cherokee Princess is actually a derogatory term, but he won’t listen.

He tells you that you are a princess in his eyes and that since you are Native American and his, that automatically makes you his “Indian Princess”.

You have to tell him that Indians are from India and how Columbus thought he had landed on India, so that’s how the nickname stuck. Then you tell him that it’s Native American or Indigenous.

He still won’t listen either and says that if Clint says so, then it must be true.

This makes you facepalm and gives him the silent treatment.

He hates that you won’t talk to him and finally changes it to his “Native American Princess”.

He dreams about having a family with you and about what your kids look like.

He never stares at anyone else but you.

He loves the way your skin looks and is just fascinated by the color.

Oh yeah, He definitely has a thing for Native Girls.

He loves how you help him and Sam learn your language, so that they both can start communicating with you that way. It brings a stronger bond between you both.

Cas is fascinated with your culture too and asks if you can hook him up with a Native girl too.

Sam is very protective of you and sees you as a little sister.

He likes watching Native Tik Toks with you. Afterwards, you teach him how to use Tik Tok.

Whenever fair season comes around, he dresses up like a cowboy and always wants you to dress up Natively(if that’s even a word….)

When you go visit your family, they always joke that he has to bring them eight animals of some kind and some land, if he ever wants to marry you.

This gets him freaked out a little, but after you tell him that it’s just a joke, he calms down.

Your dad makes him chop and haul wood whenever you guys come over.

Your mom teaches him how to make frybread when he comes over.

She’s impressed because he did such a good job on making the frybread round. Bruh…

This is quite a turn on for you.

You guys make Frybread night a thing and make Frybread together.

Your family jokes a bunch with him, but he doesn't mind.

He surprisingly gets all the Native Jokes.

He starts using Native Pickup lines on you.

This doesn't end well...

He loves you so much, that he asks you to marry him.

He loves how you get possessive of him whenever girls are around.

He loves how crazy and passionate you get about something. This drives him mad.

He finally knows who Adam Beach is...haha.....

He loves you and thinks that you are the most beautiful girl in the world!

A message From Dean

Hey kiddo, I know the world is fucked up right now and it feels like everything is spinning out of control, but we'll get through this, we always have. Moose and I will always be proud of you for making this far, I know how hard it was to get out of bed but I'm proud of you. Just please, don't give up, we love you and will always be there to support you. Keep fighting kiddo, love ya.

-Your big brother who is secretly 27 squirrels in a leather jacket

Doll Face ♡

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader (Romantic), Sam Winchester x Fem!reader (platonic) [overall sfw]

Author's note: My very first fanfic I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff!!!!, Blood, Being tied up, general warning for supernatural

Synopsis: While on hunt with the boys, you get kidnapped by a skinwalker that then steals your identity. Takes place in season 1

Words: 1595

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Dean was roused from his light sleep as the phone on the wall of the dingey motel began ringing, they were in a rural town in search of some kind of beast. Dean walked over half-asleep, and picked the phone off the dock. It was Sam, he sounded…panicked. He was talking fast and breathing faster he was rambling about something, he was talking so fast that Dean could barely make out his words. “Sammy, slow down! What’s going on?” Dean said to his brother over the landline. “Sorry, sorry.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N and I went to ask the police for the reports about the recent attacks, then the power cut and three out of five of the police officers were lying on the floor dead with their entrails laid about. We got the surviving officers out of there. Y/N is fine but she seems…off, not anything i’ve ever seen on her. She won’t talk and she has…this strange blank expression. I'm not sure what kind of creature we’re dealing with, but I'm worried.” Sam explained the situation to the best of his abilities through his panic.

***

You wake up a few hours later, you can’t move and you don’t know where you are. The air smells damp and musty, the place is dimly lit. Wherever you are, it definitely has something to do with this creature you’re after. You try to break your wrists free but as you try to break the rope you feel a sharp pain shoot down your spine and the waking world starts to fade. You fight but your struggle only lasts for a few seconds. The last thing you hear before you black out is a malicious laugh.

***

Sam speeds back to the motel with ‘you’. -You didn’t say anything the entire drive, you always have something strange on your mind and aren’t afraid to make it known. It was one of the many things Sam loved about you, so it was unusual and worrying, just how quiet you were. On top of your silence, you didn’t even look at him, not to mention you had a devilish smirk as you looked out the window supposedly lost in thought- He gets out and you silently follow behind him. The two of you walk into the room to see Dean sitting at the desk with a bunch of books. “You figure out what we’re dealing with yet Dean?” Sam looked over to Dean who gestured for him to talk with him, alone. You stood by the window watching the rain fall, lost in thought with that same odd smirk. Sam and Dean slip into the other room and Sam notices Dean’s serious and concerned expression. “Sam, I know what we’re dealing with and I know why she’s acting strange…” Dean stared back at you. He resumed “I think we’re dealing with a skinwalker. And I…I think it took Y/N and disguised itself as her” Sam’s eyes widened, it was all clicking in his mind. If Dean was right, then they needed to find you and fast.

***

You slowly came to, your mind was fuzzy and your head was throbbing. You didn’t sense anyone…or anything nearby. You breathe a sigh of relief, as you do so, a wave of pain spreads through your chest. As a matter of fact, breathing itself was agony but you need to get out of here and find Dean and Sam. You wrack your foggy brain, trying to remember anything before you passed out earlier. Wait, that laugh I heard, it…it sounded like my voice… Suddenly, everything made sense, that thing was a skinwalker and it was wearing your form. What if it goes after Sam or Dean? You have to get out of here. You strategically move your wrists in an attempt to break them free. After a few minutes, your hands are free. You quickly untie your legs and stand up. Perhaps a little too quickly, your vision clouds and you breathe heavily causing even more pain in your chest. You lean onto the wall for support, after a few minutes, you collect your bearings and start looking for an exit.

***

Dean moves toward the skinwalker wearing your form in the other room. Sam has a face riddled with shock, he’s worried Dean’s about to do something stupid and get himself hurt. The creature turns to face him with a maniacal smile. “We know you’re not her, Where is she?!” Dean raised his voice at the creature. It smiled only wider before lunging at Dean, pinning him to the ground. Sam attempts to wrestle it off of his brother, who is currently swearing like a sailor. After a quick tussle, Sam has it pinned and Dean is shooting it daggers. “If you don't want a silver bullet to the heart, i’d suggest telling me where you took her” Dean’s voice was low and threatening. Sam was slightly caught off-guard, it wasn’t often Dean used that tone. The skinwalker narrowed its eyes and smiled wider. Dean caressed his gun before pointing it directly at the skinwalker’s chest. “Last chance buddy” his voice was slightly shaky. He didn’t want to shoot you even if it was just some monster pretending to be you, afterall you are his girl. It whimpered before speaking “Fine! Fine. She’s in the abandoned Auto shop down the road. Please, just don’t shoot” Dean looked down at it with a stoic expression before pulling the trigger. The creature screamed and melted away, its blood seeping into the carpet. Dean quickly grabs the keys to his baby and gestures to Sam to stop staring at the E.T. looking corpse and follow him.

***

You walk through the damp hallways. The smell of mold is so strong it makes you dizzy but you carry on. Every breath sends jolts of pain through your body, you’re beginning to suspect you may have a few broken ribs but that’s not important right now. All of a sudden your vision clouds and you collapse against the wall. Perhaps your condition is worse than you originally thought…

***

Dean drove to the abandoned auto shop, hoping that the damned thing wasn’t lying. Dean parks the impala and both of them step out. Sam goes over to the trunk to get some weapons just in case there’s more than one, as Dean tries to pick the lock on the front door. Sam walks over to Dean with silver bullets and silver daggers. Dean got frustrated with the lock so he instead took the unconventional route of just kicking it down. They quickly run through the halls in opposite directions calling your name. Sam spots you unconscious and slumped by the wall. He picks you up and starts walking in the direction Dean went. “Dean, I found her!” He called down the hall. “Thank the lord. I'm coming” Dean says relieved before walking out with Sam following behind with you in his arms. Dean unlocks the impala and Sam gently sets you in the backseat. Dean drives back to the motel, softly humming Metallica the entire way back. Dean parks and gets out. Sam walks over to your door and carefully picks you up out of the impala and follows his brother back to the motel room. Dean waits for him to catch up and takes you from Sam while shooting a dirty look. Sam puts his hands up, smiling and stifling a laugh. Dean rolls his eyes and walks into the motel room. He sets you down on his bed. You open your eyes slightly, after a few minutes. You hear Dean’s voice “You awake babydoll?” You nod. “Ol’ Sammy’s in the shower” He smiled before sitting down on the bed, next to you. “How ya feeling? And I swear if you say fine, I will back hand you woman” He glares at you, he knows you a little too well. “I-it hurts t-to breathe” your voice comes out slightly louder than a whisper but sounds more like a wheeze. He looks concerned “You think you might’ve broken a rib?” you nod. He takes your flannel off and lifts up your shirt. He gently presses on your black and blue rib cage. You wince and try to hold back cries of pain. He lets go and looks you in the eyes. “Well baby girl, I think you’ve got at least two broken ribs. Not much I can do ‘bout that. You’re just gonna have to wait it out. When Sammy comes out I'll get you some ice from the lobby, but for now I'll give ya some pain killers” He smiles and brushes some hair out of your face. “When you’re feeling better you can shower and get that blood off ya” You were exhausted and just wanted to sleep. You buried your face into his chest, knocking him back slightly. He laid back and put his hand on the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair. You listened to his heartbeat for about five minutes before falling asleep on his chest. Sam came out of the shower and witnessed the sight of his brother trapped under you. It was cat rules, if the Y/N was on you, you are now trapped until she moves. Sam stifled a laugh and Dean Shot him a dirty look. He loved when you laid on him. He fell asleep with you in his arms about 15 minutes later. Sam giggled and took out his phone, taking a picture. “Adorable”

The End

Red Wings {d.w.}

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!! Period sex, descriptions of blood, slight blood kink, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it unless that's what you want!) Also, I know 'Red Wings' refers to oral sex, but I've only ever known it to be from penetration--so it's penetration in this. (if i missed anything please let me know. also let me know if this is fucked and if i should delete). Word count: 2k

A/N: Any feedback is appreciated, especially on this one. Feel free to be brutally honest. Happy reading, hopefully!

—

It’s no surprise that Dean doesn’t mind cleaning up period blood. It’s a part of his job description for hell's sake. And he’s damn good at getting deep stains out of your underwear, or on occasion where you bleed through your pads and stain the sheets during the night. He’s more than happy to help during your vulnerable days. In fact, he loves it. Loves taking care of his sweet girl. 

Dean has been through numerous types of pain, but he will never know what it’s like for his body to attack itself. Doesn’t understand the breast tenderness where even a loose shirt hurts to have on. Cramps so debilitating that you can’t even stand–that move to your back, to your vagina, and sometimes it zaps your damned asshole. The iron deficiency that gives you headaches and makes you so tired and weak. Sometimes the pain lasts for hours without a break. 

He keeps begging you to get checked for endometriosis–and has been secretly doing his research because it makes him feel useless that he can’t soothe the pain. You’re stubborn though and don’t listen to him. 

The cramps aren’t the worst tonight but they’re bad enough that you keep wiggling around and aren’t able to fall asleep. You’ve noticed recently that Dean sleeps lighter when you’re on your period–he’s more intune with you and your body. Always ready to make sure you’re okay. He’s groggy when he turns over and drapes an arm over your waist. His hand slips under your shirt and goes to your stomach, the warmth acts as a heating pad. Then he starts massaging gently, going from one side to the other, then pushing down towards your uterus. Once he’s done that for a couple rounds, the massage gets deeper, and that’s when you let out a throaty groan.

The pressure that is placed on your stomach actually helps relieve the cramping. 

“Feel good, baby?” Dean mumbles, his warm breath tickles your ear.

“Yes…really good,” You exhale. “How’d you know to do this?”

“Found a video on youtube. Hate knowing how much it hurts you. Had to figure something out for my girl.”

“Fuuuck.” The release is too good to be true.

Dean leaned over your shoulder, kissing your forehead, then your cheek–still massaging. “You, um…you know what else I came across that could help your cramps?”

“Hmm?”

“I read,” he pauses to kiss your shoulder, “that period sex helps release endorphins or whatever and acts as a natural painkiller. Would you–would you want to try…?”

You never entertained the idea of having period sex. It was messy and the clean up would be a nuisance. Also, Dean already had to deal with washing blood from his own hands from the job, plus whenever you bled through clothes and periodically on the sheets. Even if you insisted on cleaning everything yourself, he’d make it his responsibility. You didn’t want to burden him or trigger a trauma response with how heavy your flow could get.

Admittedly, his willingness to do anything for your aching body was turning you on. It was something the two of you have never done. With anyone.

“Let’s try it. But we’re stopping if—“

“If your cramps get worse. Of course, sweetheart.” You saw him wink at you in the dimly lit room and your core heated up. He could read your mind so effortlessly.

Dean gives you a gentle kiss on the lips before getting up and walking out of the room. Coming back a minute later with a dark towel. 

“Lift your hips up fr’me.”

You follow his instruction and he slides the towel underneath you. And when you settle back down he pulls both your underwear and sweatpants off. You remove your tank top while Dean takes off his boxers. His cock springs out of them–you didn’t even realize he was hard in the first place. Your clit pulses at the sight. He eyes you–taking in your beautiful bare body as he begins stroking himself. A small groan leaves his plump lips while he climbs on the bed, positioning his legs on either side of you. 

Dean remains straddling you, pumping his dick slowly–you watch his precum building on his tip, threatening to leak down his shaft at any moment. With his other hand he finds your clit. You can’t help but to jerk back, not being used to him touching you during this time of the month.

His voice sweet and slow like honey, “It’s okay baby. Blood won’t hurt me none.” 

A small croak of approval emits itself from your throat while you shake your head in agreement. Replacing his large fingers over your small sensitive bud, he presses down slightly and moves side to side. Just how you like it. Concern sits at the forefront of your mind about your blood spilling out at any moment. But with every moment that passes while Dean touches you–while you watch him touch himself–is another moment that eases the thought of the clean up that has to happen later. You eventually lay back down, resting your head on your pillow, elevated just enough so you’re still able to watch. 

“That’s my girl. Just relax.” He stops pleasuring himself and drops himself over you with his free hand, and leans down planting a kiss on your lips. He pulls away and brushes his lips against yours, “You ready? I need to hear you speak this time.”

“I’m good, I’m okay.” You say as you brush your fingers along the side of his jaw, a little smile blooming on Dean's face. “Go slow at first?”

His eyes narrow at you, taking his fingers off your clit to find himself, gradually guiding his length into your bloody cunt–moaning, “Always,” once he feels how much warmer you are. 

You can’t describe it, but having him in you definitely feels like ecstacy. Every pump was almost overstimulating, the slickness turning you on. The fact that he was in you raw, had your mind spinning in circles. Your walls gripping him as tightly as possible, and your body begging him to keep going. Desperate cries escaped your pretty little mouth. Wrapping your legs around his back so he had no choice but to keep going–whispering quietly, “Don’t stop”, repeatedly in his ear. 

How was sex this blissful? Maybe because you’re more sensitive? Or hornier than usual? Which was hard to believe, it’s virtually impossible because you always wanted him to fuck you senseless. But this was different. You wanted Dean so fervently. The feeling is almost primal…

“Fuuck,” Dean grunted as he pumped his dick into you, “Baby…you feel so good. So warm.” 

His head bobbed down like he couldn’t hold it up anymore, so you held him in your hands–making him look into your lustful eyes. He was breaking already. When he’s close his nose scrunches, his bottom lip quivers, and his eyebrows knot up. He’s mouthing, “I’m close.”

“No–”

“Shit, am I hurting you?” Dean immediately halts his actions, taking himself out of you and sits you up, “I’m sorry. I–we can stop...”

When you giggle, Dean can’t hide his confusion. He’s so adorable when he’s concerned. “I’m fine, my love.” You place a tender kiss on the hand that had made its way to your cheek, “Just didn’t want you cumming yet. I wanna be on top.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” He glares at you as he takes your place on the towel. 

You look at his pelvis before you climb on top of him, and there’s a decent amount of blood coating his dick and thighs. A part of you is guilty for bloodying him up, but the devilish side of you loves the sight. It’s not other people’s or monsters' body fluid on your partner, but it’s your own. No violence caused this—well besides your uterus hating you, but that’s not the point. The point is that he will do anything to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Even if it means staining his skin red.

A loud animalistic moan came from Dean once you slipped his cock in you. Grinding your hips slowly at first to really savor the moment, to take in the beautiful man beneath you. His hands gripping your love handles guiding your movements. Small whines leave you as he makes you speed up, making you grasp onto his hips. 

At this point everything is getting you so riled up and you can’t help it. Any insecurity has left you. There was blood that had smeared on Dean’s stomach, most likely from the hand that grabbed his member, and that was the final straw for your self control. Dean noticed the sinister look in your eyes.

“You like seeing that don’t you? Your blood all over me?” He asks behind gritted teeth, pounding your wet and bloody cunt, “Fuck me baby.”

And that’s exactly what you do. You lay yourself into the crook of Dean’s neck and bounce on his hard length. The sound of his skin slapping against yours drives you mad, involuntary cries escape from both of you.

He’s pulling your hair with one hand and gripping your ass with the other, “That’s it, pretty girl,” he slaps your bottom, whispering in your ear, “can feel you tightening around my dick.” Dean then pushes you up slightly, lifts his head up finding one of your breasts, and starts flicking his tongue against your nipple. The hand that leaned you upwards is now kneading your tit.

That was your weakness—him playing with your nipples. They’ve always been sensitive and are the reason for most of your orgasms, which is where you were heading. Fast. Dean’s taken over again. He’s humming into your breast as he takes it in his mouth, and his hips are bucking into yours at an ungodly speed. Your stomach is twisting at the stimulation, your body is shaking. There’s no strength left to support yourself, you begin to sway. Dean eventually guiding you to rest onto him.

“Dean, I’m…I’m cumming.”

“Yeah, angel. Can feel you throbbing. God…” He lets out a sharp exhale, eyes rolling back–he’s so close to spilling into you. Reaching down to pull himself out of your pussy–but you refuse, needing him in every way imaginable. Pulling his hand away from where you two were connected, “I–I can’t hold it. Baby, please!” 

“Cum in me.”

“Wha–”

You grind as fast as you’re able to.

 “You heard me,” seductively exaggerating your next words, “Cum. In. Me.”

“Oh fuuck, yeah–yeah…” Dean howls your name as he releases his load into your swollen hole, the heat from his climax flowing through you. The euphoria that was clouding your judgement slowly wearing off. Breaths are evening out, while you still slowly move yourself up and down–milking little spasms out of Dean until he begs for you to stop.

“Dirty girl, having me cum in you. Didn’t expect you’d like period sex this much.” A huge grin spreads across his face, love in his eyes, “How’s the pain?”

You say as you cup his face with one hand, returning the happiness, “Gone.”

“Good. Also didn’t expect you to get turned on by having your blood covering me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, it’s hot. C’mere.” Grabbing you by the nape of your neck, he pulls you into a soft, sensual kiss. “I felt so close to you, watching how turned on you got. How wild you looked, made me want to give you my children.”

“Well, you did. Technically.” You smirk. A look of defeat washed over him, he was serious. His demeanor makes you compose your humor, “Well, this is a good start then.” 

There’s that adorable smile and those cute crows feet that crinkle around his eyes.

“Let’s wait a little while though, I have a feeling you’re gunna want me to fuck you while you’re on your period more often.” 

“Mmh, how’d you know?”

“Honey, you gave me my first set of red wings and you got so hot and bothered by it. I know you, know what you want.” He gets off the bed and yanks you into his arms, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

—

tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted @ambiguous-avery @deans-spinster-witch (if you want to be untagged, there's no judgement!)

The Taste of Us {d.w.}

A/N: This is me losing my smut virginity. Be gentle with me plz!!! Tell me if it’s any good or not.

Warning: semi-public sex?? oral: m & f receiving, pet names, teeth kink?? (if I missed something let me know!!) MDNI 18+ Word count: 1.8k

—

It’s a hot summer night in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. The crickets are chirping, lightning bugs are illuminating the sparsely lit backroads, and the sweet gentle hum of a 1967 Chevy Impala is making its way to your ears. 

You're working the nightshift at a roadside diner that probably loses money staying open twenty-four hours a day, and definitely isn’t paying you enough. There’s only two more hours left of your shift before the next employee shows up. That’s when he comes in, a boy roughly around your age–and he’s unbelievably charming. Rare around these parts.

When the door to the diner closes, you can feel the thick, humid air push towards you. And almost immediately you feel the wind get knocked out of you by the sight of this stranger. Sandy hair, freshly shaven, eyes that could blend into the dense forest surrounding the restaurant; he wore an interesting frog-like necklace? You couldn’t really tell what it was–and what seems to be a wedding ring on one of his pointer fingers. 

He sat away from where you had propped yourself against the counter. You sauntered over there after minutes of painful silence. 

“Long night?”

Dean only lifted his eyes to look at you and gave a weak smile. Comparing his features to the forest is effortless to you. Eyes like the pines, dark circles would blend in with the dirt after it rains, every scar that litters his face resembles the places where lightning hits. His beauty is tragic and unfathomable. 

“Not anymore.” His voice was warmer than how he looked. Seduction covered his eyes like the clouds in the sky.

“Ah, yeah. I bet.” You roll your eyes sarcastically. Tapping your pen against your small notebook, “What can I get ya, darlin’?”

Dean can’t get enough of your accent, he really had to play this right in order not to walk out of here with a raging hard on. He couldn’t imagine waltzing in here again with that kind of embarrassment following him around.

“What’s your name?”

You’ve had more than enough men coming in here looking at you like you’re an object to them. Their smiles that lead to empty, crazy eyes that give you goose-pimples all over. Every. Single. Time. But him? His voice was as sweet as the tea you poured yourself earlier. Dean never breaks eye contact, making you blush. So you told him.

“Such a beautiful name, sweetheart.” He winks at you, then grins as he lowers his head to browse the menu. “Could I have…you?”

If he didn’t look at you like you were the only star in the sky, you definitely would’ve said no. But holy hell, that twinkle in his eyes made you wetter than the spring brings rain. And his teeth. He could sink those canines right into your thighs…

You must’ve been staring too long. He raised his eyebrows and a curious yet defeated expression flooded his features. Mouthing a small “okay” then began to actually look at the menu. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m used to old geezers hittin’ on me. Not a fine man like yourself.” Shyness takes over you. You start to tremble from how nervous you are, and the tips of your ears turn even redder.

“No need to be sorry, pretty girl.” He stands up from the stool, leaning so far forward that you can smell a faint hint of Irish Springs on his skin. Mere inches separate your face from his. Dean whispers seductively, “This place usually busy at night?” 

As soon as you shake your head no, he gently places his hand on your cheek, chuckling at how warm it is, then pulling you into the most intimate kiss that has ever touched your lips. It takes you a second to reciprocate before moving at the same tempo. 

God, it’s been forever since you’ve had human contact like this. The two of you synced up so well together, like you’ve done this before. He was too good. So. Good. A small moan escapes from your mouth. 

“Get on the counter fr’ me.”

You obey his command. You pulled yourself up and sat on your shins. The dress you had on rode upwards.

“Sit down and put your feet on the edge.” A light order as his hands trail up and down your exposed thighs.

“Would a please hurt ya, sweet cheeks?”

He teases you back and drawls out, “Pleeaase?”

Again, you do as he says. You just can’t help it, everything about him is alluring. Slowly making your way to the position he wants you at. The two of you don’t break eye contact. Not a fuck would be given by either of you if someone walked in.

He hikes your dress up, smiling at how wide-spread your legs are for him. A serious look washed over him right before he pulled your panties down. A sudden realization. 

“Is this okay?”

How much hotter can he get? You thought.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh? My name? It–it’s Dean…”

“Dean, honey–anything you do to me is more than okay.” You lean back onto your elbows, smirking.

He proceeds with his actions. Placing tender kisses down one thigh, stopping so–so close to your most sensitive area. Then skipping over it to kiss up the other thigh. As if he had read your mind from earlier–when he gets to a meatier part of your leg, Dean sinks his incisors into you and takes your skin between them. Delicately sucking, marking you as his. That’s when you finally begin to relax.

A couple love marks later, without warning, he slides his tongue in you. His warmth makes you jump and squeal–you’ve always been sensitive and ticklish down there, especially if it’s been a while. 

An animalistic grunt comes out of Dean's mouth, into your pussy. You can feel his grin widen against your pelvic bone while his tongue flicks inside you. When you look down at him he’s already staring–desperate for more of what he heard, he moves up to your clit. Massaging it in a side-to-side motion. He sees your eyes roll back and he immediately plunges two of his thick fingers into your slick entrance. Another gasp slips out of you. 

His “come-hither” was perfect—hitting your spot just right. His mouth already knew how to please you. But it was his eyes that made you come undone. Pulling your head back up, you find that Dean had never stopped looking at you.

“You’re so delicious, baby. Fuuck. Could do this all night.”

Tension was building within you. Every muscle was convulsing, one of your legs slipped off of the counter. Dean quickly placed it back up with his free hand.

“That’s it–cum for me.”

You’ve never experienced an orgasm quite like this one. Your swollen clit was throbbing, sending electricity throughout your body. Your walls pulsating around Dean’s fingers–your thick milky cum coated them as he pulled them out of you. He spread them apart and leisurely slipped his digits in his mouth. A delicious sound came from his throat, eyes closing as he savored your taste.

Where did this man come from? Who the fuck cares, you were grateful.

“C’mon, sugar. Your turn.” You pointed to the booth behind him. “Move that table to the side and take a seat.”

That drove him crazy–you taking over. Wanting to pleasure him. It wasn’t often that women told him what to do during sex, but he is more than willing to submit to you. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a hint of southern twang. 

The table made a loud shriek as Dean pushed it, making you look behind your shoulder–expecting someone to come from the back of the diner with concern. No one came. You looked out of the window to make sure the parking lot and road were empty. Nothing was out there. Shifting your focus back to Dean, you notice sweat glistening on his forehead. Eyes tracking your every movement. You walk up to him and climb onto his lap, sitting on his hardened length.

“That fucking smile of yours is gunna be the death of me.” You murmur against his ear, and can see the hair on his neck stand up.

His cock wavering in his jeans, trying to find a way to your cunt as you rock your hips and suckle on small areas of his neck. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer while the other wraps around your throat and guides your face towards his. Lips connecting, mouths opening–the taste of your cum still lingers on his tongue. The hand he had on the small of your back reaches for the button on his jeans, but you had other plans.

Jerking away from him, wagging your finger no, then sliding off him to sit on your knees. Glancing up at this devilish man before you, with sex in your eyes. Undoing his jeans for him, he lifts up his lower half to make it easier for you to take them off. His cock springs up. Pre-cum covering his enlarged tip. Your hand making its way to him, spreading his arousal down his shaft in steady, unhurried movements. Dean placed his large palms right under your ears, tugging you towards him. 

“Ask for me, if you want my mouth so badly.”

“Please, sweetheart.”

“What do you want, pretty boy?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand, lightly brushing your lips on his sensitive head.

“Want yr’ mouth around me. Please?” 

The desperation leaking out of him was ecstasy for you. Giving in, you wrap your mouth around his girth. He’s so big. Plunging his dick so far down your throat that you gag on it. Spit dripping down his balls and your chin. In your peripheral vision you see his mouth ajar. It was almost undetectable, but he let out a tiny gasp. 

Removing him from your mouth you beg, “Lemme hear you, Dean…”

Then he lets out the most beautiful moan, making your pussy drip all over again. He grabs the back of your neck and his cock at the same time–ushering himself into you. Desire radiating from him as you lock eyes. Continuing to suck and hum against him, working your hand in circular motions in stride with your mouth. Faster and faster as he begins to buck his hips. 

“Oh fuck, I’m–I’m cumming, baby. Take me out…”

Refusing to listen to him, you don’t stop using the mouth God gave you. The guttural roar that filled the room was your only indicator that he wasn’t in control anymore. His cum shooting to the back of your throat. Dean grabbed the edges of the booth so tightly from you overstimulating him, then he finally took in a sharp breath. Removing his cock from you, you get up and straddle him again. Leaning in to kiss him but he withdraws. A questioning look that reads, did you swallow?

You only nod, then stick your tongue out.

“Good girl.”

Giving you a sensual kiss, slipping his tongue over yours.

“I taste so good in your mouth.”

—

tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted @ambiguous-avery @deans-spinster-witch (if you want to be untagged, there's no judgment!)

A Fate You Can’t Escape

Summary: Hungry and alone in the bunker the reader decides to take the Impala into town for a quick trip to get dinner. But things don’t go as planned and the reader tries her hardest to escape the consequences of her actions before the brothers return from their hunt. But as things go from bad to worse the reader begins to discover that some times you can’t escape your fate.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 8,900

Warnings: Car Accidents

You were laying on the couch in the Dean cave watching some new show on Netflix when your stomach just started rumbling. You tried to ignore the grumbling, but it got to the point that you couldn’t anymore. If you didn’t eat something soon you were gonna be sick.

You groaned, you knew there was practically no food in the kitchen. There might have been a slice of bread, but that wasn’t gonna hold you over. Neither Sam or Dean were home, Garth had picked them up for help with a case in the area and they promised to pick up supplies and grocery’s on their way back. The problem was you expect them back two hours ago and you hadn’t heard from them.

You could wait for them, but you had no idea when they were going to be back and even if you manage to wait for them then you would have to wait till dinner was cooked.

Another violent grumble in your stomach told you that you weren’t going to be able to wait and decided to go into town yourself and pick up some food.

Although that brought up another problem. Your car was still out of commission after the last hunt you took it on. The impala was still in the garage, as Garth had picked the boys up, but Dean rarely lets you drive it, hell Sam barely gets the chance. You knew that Dean would not be happy if found out you took his baby, especially without asking first.

There were course several other cars in the garage, but half of them weren’t in working order having sat so long uncared for. Dean has been fixing them up in his free time, as a hobby and way to clear his head. But lately, we’ve been so busy with back to back hunts we’ve hardly had any downtime. And the ones Dean has managed to fix up were stick shift and you had no idea how to drive them.

Without any other option, you headed to Dean’s room to get the keys to the impala. You thought about texting him, but he would probably make up some excuse and tell you they were on their way back now and just to wait for them. Of course, that’s what he said the last time you talked and yet they still weren’t here. You figured that as long as you didn’t linger around, you’d be able to get the food and come back before them.

“Pizza for Y/N.” You said to the man behind the counter, he nodded his head and went back to fetch it.

Y/N, that’s a pretty name.” Said the elderly woman standing at the counter waiting for her order.

You gave her a short, but polite smile, “Thanks.”

“It’s so pretty, and it really fits you.” She stepped closer to you, closer than you would have liked, but you fought to hide your discomfort as she was just being a sweet old lady.

“And your hair. It’s so pretty!” She said reaching out as if she was going to run her hand through it. You immediately stepped back only for her to follow. You didn’t want to be rude but she beginning to make you uncomfortable.

You turned away from her staring back at the kitchen hoping your food would come out soon as you kept a watch on her from over your shoulder. Your feeling of uneasiness grew even more when she began asking you questions you were and where you lived. You made up a lie about just passing through town but then her questions only grew.

“Alright pizza and wings combo.” The man said setting the food down on the counter. You let out a sigh of relief and quickly paid for your food and rushed out of the restaurant.

The interaction left you feeling uneasy and you had this unshakable feeling in the pit of your stomach. You sat in the impala for a few seconds to makethe sure she didn’t follow you out and you even drove around the block a couple of times in hopes to settle that uneasiness.

After circling two blocks and another grumble of your stomach that reminded you how hungry you were, you got back on the main road and headed out of town.

You were driving out of town faster than the posted limit because you wanted to get back and dig into ‘your food. You weren’t concerned about speeding as it was a clear evening, no one was around, and Dean always drove at least fifteen over the limit.

You were about two miles out of town, coming across ‘Bendman’s Curve’ as the locals referred to it due to something that happened years ago. The curve was sharp and you slowed down to a more manageable speed, you were probably still driving a little faster than officials would have liked, but you have driven it many times and knew you would be fine at this speed.

That was until you were halfway through the curve and saw a water tank had tipped over and was laying on the side of the road. That wasn’t the problem though, the problem was the tank burst and was currently spilling all over the road. Between the angle of the curve and the water on the road, it was too much. The tires began to spin out and skid and the next thing you know you had last control of the front wheels. As a result, the impala was sliding across the road and despite all your efforts you could not regain control of the car.

Before you knew it the impala came to an abrupt stop as it crashed into the guardrail.

You pull your pounding head up from where it had collided with the steering wheel and as you brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you felt something wet. Blood. A look in the rearview mirror showed a large gash on your forehead.

You weren’t worried about that though. Despite the fact that everything was blurry and how light-headed you were feeling, you pushed past that feeling and climbed out of the impala.

Standing up was a mistake though, and if it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning against the impala you would have fallen to the ground. You slowly pushed yourself upright and made your way around the impala.

You inspected the area you crashed into. The front fender had taken the brute of the impact, causing the siding to cave in. The headlight had popped out too.

You were overwelmed with emotion. Dean was gonna kill you.

This car was his most valued possession. It’s the only thing he’s ever known since the age of four. He took care of his car, more than anyone else would. He washed and waxed it on a set schedule, he was constatly under the hood making sure everything was running just as it should be. The impala was more than just a car, it was a safe place he could take shelter from the monsters when he was a kid, it was a warm sight to see as John came back to pick him up from whatever motel he had dumped him at. It was the first car he learned how to drive and the first and only car he owned. She was his baby and the only home he has ever known. Even now that they have found the bunker and a constant place to rest their heads, the impala was truly where both boys felt at home, especially Dean.

Dean hardly ever lets Sam drive her, and the only time he’s ever let you drive her was because he got hurt on a hunt and Sam wasn’t around, and even then you had to plead with him that he couldn’t drive in the state he was in.

What were you thinking taking Baby without even asking Dean? He would have been mad, no not mad furious if he got home before you and found out you took her out for a ‘joyride’. But now, after he gets a look at her, mad wouldn’t even come close to the rage he will be feeling.

God how could you be so stupid, taking the impala was stupid enough but you knew how much Dean loves her, you should have taken extra care of her, you shouldn’t have been driving so fast, you should have watched the road more carefully for hazards.

You brought your hands up to head, ‘What did I do? What did I do?’ Kept repeating in your head. ‘If only I had driven slower, or if I left the restaurant right away instead of driving mindlessly around the block, or maybe if I waited longer.’

What you wouldn’t do to fix this.

Suddenly the pain in your head grew immensely. You felt dizzy and light-headed, and you went to grab your phone and call for help, but before you got a chance darkness overtook you.

You groaned as you opened your eyes. Your back and neck hurt from the position you were in so as carefully as you could you moved to sit up. It took you a few moments to clear the fogginess in your brain and get your eyes to focus, You were unsure of where you were.

As became more alert, you found yourself sitting in the impala, the ache in your neck and back due to the fact you had been hunched over the steering wheel. You began to remember what had happened, Bendman’s curve, the water truck, and the accident.

But the strange thing was you were no longer there. You vaguely remember passing out at the scene of the accident but now you find yourself waking up in a different place. Normally that wouldn’t be such a unnatural thing somebody found you, and called for help. But if that happened you be waking up in a hospital or even an ambulance. Or if Sam and Dean had found you, you’d find yourself waking up in the familiar sight of the garage in the bunker.

But that’s not where you found yourself. The blinding neon lights flashing in front of you put you back at the restaurant. How you got back here though, you weren’t sure.

You climbed out of the impala and made your way around to the front and were astonished to find baby’s front was unblemished. Her fender was shiny and pristine just like she was the day she rolled off the line. Dean really did a fine job taking care of her.

A fact that only made you feel more guilty for taking her without permission. You weren’t sure why or how you had such a vivid dream, but you were thankful for it. You had foresight of what could happen and you knew what to avoid.

You climbed back into baby and started her up. This time you wasted no time and got on the road. You drove her carefully, making sure to follow the speed limit and keeping your eyes moving for unexpected hazards in or around the road.

When you made it back to Bendman’s curve you were relieved to find the road clear and the water truck no where to be seen. Not willing to take any chances you slowed down below the curve’s speed limit. This curve was named after a tragic accident after all. You made it through the worst of the curve and you began to gently accelerate out of the curve.

You saw the black pickup truck driving towards you in the other lane. You watched it carefully and even moved over toward the side of the road when you thought it was going to crossover into your lane. When it readjusted its position in the center of the left lane you began to move back over. As you approached it closer you continued to watch it, though everything seemed fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Just as you were about to pass the truck, it crossed over into your lane and there was nothing you could do to avoid the head on collision. The impala came to a sudden and violent stop as it collided with the pickup truck.

Ringing. That’s all you could hear as your mind worked through the haze. All you felt was pain, excruciating pain. There was a deep pounding in your head, your chest ached due to the fact you had been jolten into the dashboard, and your legs had been pinned and crushed.

You were having a hard time focusing on anything other than the pain radiating throughout your whole body. You tried hard to concentrate and make your eyes work but your vision was fuzzy and disoriented. You could hear muffled voices, but you couldn’t make out what was being said.

Sacred and worried you began to wiggle and try to turn in the direction that voices were coming from. Which you soon found was a mistake as the pain doubled. You froze where you were, the position painful and uncomfortable but moving proved to be worse.

God, why is this happening to you!? You had a warning, and you took every precaution to make sure the ‘dream’ you had didn’t come to fruition but now not only did it happen but it was worse than predicted.

Forget the rage Dean would have towards you for taking his baby. He was going to kill you for destroying her.

“Miss, can you hear me!” A fuzzy voice was shouting at you. You couldn’t focus on it as you having a hard enough breathing right now.

After a couple more minutes you found that the pain had lessened in intensity, but you knew that wasn’t a good thing. Combined with the fact that your eyes felt extremely heavy and you found it a struggle to keep them open, you knew you wouldn’t have long if you didn’t receive medical attention soon.

Many regrets flashed through your mind. Not taking more time for yourself. Not living your life to its full potential. Not taking chances. Your mind showed you images of the green-eyed man who had captured your heart. He didn’t know about the crush you had on him and now he never will.

“Stay awake,” a voice commanded. But as much as you wanted to you couldn’t follow the demand. Not being able to fight anymore, your eyes slipped closed and the muffled voices around became silent.

You woke with a start, taking in the surroundings around you. You were confused trying to remember what happened. You remembered bits and pieces. You somewhat remembered the crash and you vividly remember the pain.

But your body felt fine now. You even sat up and took stock of your body looking for injuries and moving around feeling for any sort of pain. There was a creak in your neck from the way you had been hunched over the steering wheel, but other than that you were fine.

Baby herself was unharmed as well. Her once caved in dashboard was in perfect condition, the windshield was no longer a spiderweb of broken glass, and her frame was no longer bent out of shape.

You were back in front of the pizza parlor, after having just picked up your food. You were confused as to what was happening. Twice now you had been in an accident, or at least your thought you had, but then you woke up right back here.

Did you fall asleep? Was it all just a dream? But if it was just a dream, why do you fall asleep? You had been perfectly alert before picking up your food and now you’re passing out behind the wheel of baby? It just didn’t make sense.

Something was off, you could feel it in your gut. But yet you were always known to have vivid and wild dreams, it why you had a hard time believing that monsters were out there when you first attacked by one. You couldn’t have been sure that it wasn’t just your crazy imagination.

One thing was for sure though, you weren’t going to solve anything sitting here in the parking lot and the grumbling in your stomach reminded you how famished you were. Whatever was happening or more likely not happening, you could figure it out back at the bunker with the boys. Speaking of the boys you knew you need to get home before they did or rather when Dean did and spotted a Baby sized whole in the garage.

So ignoring everything that just happened, every confused thought you had, you got back on the road heading home. Your cleared your mind of everything that was happening and made getting home your first priority. Nothing else mattered. If something was going on, well it should stop when you were in the protective walls of the bunker, and if not well then you worked it out in the safety of the bunker with the boys while you chowed down on your food.

But your urgency to get home was less because of the strange things you thought you were experiencing and more due to the fact you wanted to get home before Dean. Real or not, twice now you had experienced deep regret about taking his car without even asking. You could imagine how angry he would be at you, for not only taking her but letting her get damaged on your watch. You didn’t want to feel that way again. You didn’t want to see the anger that would cross his face, anger which you caused. You didn’t want see his heartbroken stare as he took in the damage of not only his precious car but his home and his whole world. You would never forgive yourself for causing him such pain and you would never be able to get his hurt expression out of your head. It would haunt you in your dreams, even now just imagining it had left you shaken. The only way to make sure that didn’t happen was to get home before he could notice she was gone.

So you drove home, ignoring everything else happening in town, your only focus was on the two lanes ahead of you. The closer you got to home the more tension you felt lifted from you, you were going to make it. Everything was as it should be but as you approached Bendman’s Curve this nagging feeling in your gut grew. It was so much that just before entering the curve you pulled over to the side of the road.

You sat there trying to compose yourself. You felt silly sitting here, too afraid to move forward. You felt like a coward, but for the life of you, you could not make yourself precede forward.

Another rumble of your stomach reminded you of how hungry you were. You glanced over at your food sitting on the passenger seat. You wanted nothing more than to go home and dig into it, yet still, you couldn’t force youself to move. The thought briefly crossed your mind about eating here in the car, but you quickly dismissed the idea. Dean had a strict rule about eating in his baby. He let snacks and other small things go on long road trips, but never were you allowed to eat meals in his car, he strictly forbid it. Not willing to risk leaving a mess for Dean to find you chose just to wait until you got home, you be lucky enough if you got Baby home before he noticed, you weren’t willing to take the chance of committing two offenses.

You were lost in your own thoughts when suddenly a black truck came zipping out of the curve. Your eyes widen in shock as it drove past you, close enough that it almost hit you, in fact, if you hadn’t been parked on the side of the road they would have definitely hit you head on as the truck had crossed over into your lane.

You sat there, heart racing with adrenaline at the near miss you just had until the dream you had woken from came flashing back to your mind. That was the same truck that had plowed you down in your dream, from its color, to its make and model, to even the mud stains lining the driver’s side of the vehicle. Something was happening, any doubts you had that it was just a fluke, your imagination, or some crazy coincidence were gone. If you hadn’t felt some uneasiness in your gut that made you pull over you would have sure been flattened under the dashboard as the result of the collision.

You remember Sam briefly telling you about the vision or rather premonitions he used to get years ago. Could that be what was happening to you? It was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with, but then again it didn’t make sense. Sam’s premonitions were caused by the demon blood yellow eyes had given him as a baby. You weren’t one of ‘Azazel’s children’, you had been born five years prior so why was this all happening to you? And why now? You had gone your entire life without any of this happening, so what’s causing it now?

Now the urgency to get back to the bunker was even stronger. If those truly had been visions and they depicted you getting in a car wreck on your way home, then you were in trouble. You still had seven miles left, curse the bunker for being located so far from town, and just because you manage to nearly miss the accident a few minutes ago didn’t mean more couldn’t be along the way, there were a lot of idiot drivers after all.

In fact, the reoccurring theme in visions seems to make that pretty obvious. You avoid the first accident by taking a different route, you missed the second by pulling over at the right moment, two accidents was more than just a coincidence, there will be another.

You let out a frustrated yell when you opened your eyes. Once more you were back at the pizza parlor, this time a loose beam under the bridge slipped as the impala rolled over it. There was nothing you could do as the road slipped away right under your wheels and you went crashing into the watery grave below.

That was the seven time you had tried to make it home, each time a new problem rose up preventing you from completing the trek home. You felt stuck like there was nothing you could do. No matter how safe you drove, you never made it back. Some careless driver or unforeseen circumstances always won.

You had even tried to drive a completely different route home. One that would have taken you far longer to get home and risked the boys beating you home, but at the time you felt it was a safer option than the usual route, given that you died on it six times already.

It didn’t matter want you did or didn’t do, you always crashed, you never make home, and you always ended up right back here to due all over again.

Though you have noticed that no matter how long you took the loop never faltered. Every time you woke up, you woke at the same time, each time, 6:23. At first it had been a blessing it meant that you still had time to beat them home but as the loop continued your looked at the number with disdain. You were trapped in an unless cycle.

The only thing you haven’t tried was waiting the hour out. You hated doing it as you wanted more than anything to beat the boys home, a fact you don’t even know why was so important anymore given everything going on.

You still had no idea what was going on. Was your loop tied to the hour? Was it some sort of bad luck on the roads? Who knows? But right now your only option was to stay off of the road. Maybe when the hour passes this will be all over. Maybe once it gets later the amount of people on the road will dwindle down and you would have fewer hazards to worry about when you try once again to go home.

You still wanted to beat the boys home, but this was the only card you had left at the moment. You decided you rather take the chance of Dean finding out you took Baby without asking and the anger that would result than the rage he would feel when you crashed her. Plus you had expected the boys nearly two and a half hours ago. You’re not sure what has delayed them but maybe it might take them even longer to get back and you could still beat them home. Right?

You walked into the restaurant and found an open table and dug into your food. You had to hold back a moan after the first bite of the pizza. God, it was so good! It almost made you forget all of your regrets.

You’ve had pizza before, but never one quiet like this. It was cheesy, but not overpowering and the sauce was thick and rich, the best consistency, which prevents the crust from becoming soggy, an issue you had with a lot of pizza places. Since you moved into town with the boys it quickly became your favorite and you honestly hated getting pizza anywhere else now.

You took your time enjoying every bite of your food, to savoring it, and too waste time. When you finished you had time to kill and you check for a message from Sam or Dean. There was nothing and you were conflicted as to if that was good or bad. The lack of communication could be from whatever was holding them up or if they had made it back Dean could be waiting until you got home to unleash his fury. You weren’t sure if you wanted them to text you, to let you know that they were home, or for Sam to give you a heads up that Dean wasn’t happy.

As you stared down mindlessly at your phone willing the time to pass faster. You had twenty more minutes to wait before you could back on the road. As you waited you glanced around the restaurant for the old woman from earlier. She was nowhere to be found which made you chuckle in an annoyed way.

All of this started because of her. She neglect the curiosity of personal space and just overall creeped you out. All because of that interaction you drove around town in circles in fear that she was following you. You wondered if you hadn’t wasted time, if you had gone straight home would you still be stuck in the situation you were now?

As the seconds ticked by of the last minute of the hour, you watched in anxious anticipation. You squeezed your eyes shut at the last second in fear of what might happen when the hour went passed. You kept your eyes closed for a few moments. When you opened your eyes would you see the dashboard of the impala or the booth you had been sitting in?

You expected to feel something when the hour mark passed. A whoosh as you transport through space and time, dizziness as you reset in the loop, pain, anything at all.

After several moments of nothing you slowly pride your eyes open. Relief flooded over as you opened your eyes to find yourself still in the pizza parlor. You looked at the time 7:25. You broke the loop.

Not wasting another second you ran out the door and back to the impala, not even bothering to clean up garbage as you raced out the door. You’d feel guilty about it later, but right now nothing mattered but getting back to the bunker, hopefully, before the Winchesters did.

You ran across the parking lot and into the driver’s seat. You moved so quickly you even fumbled trying to put the key in the ignition. When you finally got it baby roared to life, a sound that would always bring a smile to your face, maybe you like Dean in that sense.

Despite your rush to get home, you had not forgotten about everything you have gone through. How could you, it had become a curse upon you, a fate that you couldn’t escape. Until now.

You made sure the path was clear and pulled out of the spot you parked in and then drove off towards the road. There was a car approaching fast, though it looked like you would have just enough time to pull out. But given your history today, that was not a chance you were willing to take, so you waited the extra seven seconds till the car passed. You pulled out the parking lot and made it a little down the road before you came to a stop at the traffic light. Once it was green you proceed ahead heading home.

However, in the corner of your eye, you saw it. A car coming from the opposite direction who thought they could make it running the red. There was nothing you could do to react, nothing you could do to stop the collision that was about the happened.

You were shaken in the impala as the car collided with the driver’s side of the car. The impala was pushed off the road and onto a nearby sidewalk.

Your head had made a violent impact with the window when the car smashed into you. Your head was ringing and your vision was blurry, a feeling you were becoming all too familiar with.

You let out a long and exasperated sign. You couldn’t do this anymore. Thirty accidents. Thirty failed attempts to get home. No matter what you did the outcome was always the same. You had reach your breaking point. You had no ideas left and were out of hope. What was the point to keep trying when nothing changed?

You sat at the scene of your latest accident, the impala’s front had been pushed over to the side of the road while the back end remained in the road. Some idiot had rammed into her from behind.

This accident was different from the rest. Taking stock of your body you couldn’t see or feel anything wrong. All of the previous crashes were serve enough that you had been injured in the impact. You weren’t sure if you died each time or if the loop had reset when you passed out. But this time you were completely alert.

You were confused and unsure of what you should do now. You had never lasted this long after the accident. All you knew was that you couldn’t do this anymore and not wanting to waste another second of whatever time you had left, you pull your phone out of your back pocket. While anyone else would be calling the police or their insurance representatives when placed in a situation like this, there was only one person you wanted to talk to.

The ringing seemed to go and on. You didn’t know what you were going to do if you couldn’t get a hold of him. The constant reliving of the same event was one thing but for that loop to change and you couldn’t get a hold of the one person who could help you out. Well, that felt like a fate worst than death. One thing you knew for certain was that you could not take this anymore.

“Hello. Y/N you there?”

You hadn’t even realized he picked up, you had been too lost in your thoughts. “DEAN!” You shouted.

“Hey sorry, we’re late we ran into some trouble on the way back. I’ll explain it all when we get back.”

They weren’t even home yet. God that hurt. Despite all your wishing that you could beat them home now you wished he was home, so he come and help you out of the hole you seemed to be lost in.

“Dean I need help.” You said urgently, emotion overtaking you. There was no doubt Dean could hear the distress in your voice.

“Woah Y/N what happened?”

“I….I…I” You were now gasping as you tried to explain what you have been through.

“Y/N take a breath. Slow Down.” He ordered. “I need you to calm down so you can tell me what happened.” Someone how your body had responded to him and you took several deep breaths feeling your heart steady a bit. “Good, good girl, now what’s going on?”

“I didn’t know where you were and I got hungry, so I took the impala..” You paused waiting for his reaction. A sharp inhale, a grunt of anger, or something. Yet there was nothing he had either reacted in his facial expression knowing you wouldn’t be able to see or he was hiding his reactions as he didn’t want to upset you further than you were right now. “I just went to the pizza parlor, but now I can’t get home.”

“You can’t get home?” Dean interrupted you sounded slightly annoyed but then were quick to hide it.

“No like I literally can’t. I’ve tried at least thirty times. Something always stops me. Every time I get hit or run over and then I wake up right back at the restaurant. Dean, I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright Y/N calm down where are you now?”

“Highway 42 just passed the fallen barn. Dean, I’m so sorry.” You said crying. “I never dreamed that any of this would happen when I took your car. I should have never done it, taking her without asking, I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Calm down Y/N, it’s gonna be alright. Are you okay, are you hurt?”

You looked over yourself once more, “No I don’t think so they hit the back this time.”

“Okay stay right where you are. We’re on our way just stay there.”

It was roughly an hour later when you saw Garth’s beat up car pull up. Dean was quick to jump out of the car and run over to the impala. The rest of the emotion you had managed to hold back came flooding out as soon as you saw him.

You expected him to run to the back to see the damage that occur in the collision, the damage that you caused. But he didn’t, instead, he ran to where you were leaning against the hood. You looked down as he approached. “Are you okay?”

“I…I’m f… fine,” You crooked out. “I wasn’t hurt.” You weren’t able to look him in the eyes too ashamed of what you’d done and afraid to see the look on his face, the anger and the hatred that you were sure had to be there. “Dean I’m so so sorry. I know that nothing I will ever do will be able to change what I’ve done, the damage I’ve caused. And I know you probably never be able to forgive me, but I just need you to know that I truly am sorry.” You cried.

“Y/N sweetheart look at me.” He spoke in a gentle voice. And that nickname he used, you knew it meant nothing, he’s used it all the time on victims he came across. But your heart couldn’t help but flutter in response.

Dean put his finger under your chin and gently lifted your eyes to meet his. “I’m not worried about that. I’m more concerned with how you are.”

“Dean you haven’t even see it yet, the damage that …that I caused.” Another tear slipped down your cheek.

“All that can wait. Whatever is damage can be replaced. You can’t.” Dean brushed the tear from your cheek and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear. You watched his eyes furrow at you when he did.

“That’s bleeding a lot Y/N.” He brought his hand up to your forehead and touched the gash on your head and you winced in response. “Why didn’t you say something?”

You looked at your reflection in the windshield of the impala. “I didn’t know, I honestly didn’t even feel it.” You confessed. Dean led you back to the driver’s seat and sat you down and then he moved to the back of the impala. You tried to get a look at his face, to see his reaction once he saw the damage, but you couldn’t get see from where you sat.

Dean pride open the trunk of the implala and return to you with the first aid kit. He began to fuss over your wound, cleaning the area and preparing to bandage it. “Dean really I’m fine.” You said trying to stop his hands and moving your head away.

Dean was persistent though and his one hand easily caught both of yours and held them out of his way while he continued to work. “Y/N that was a lot of blood.”

“You know how head wounds are, they’re overdramatic. Really I feel fine.”

“Nevertheless let me take care of you.”

Dean was finishing placing the bandage on your head when Sam came walking over. “How are you feeling Y/N?”

“Just peachy.” You said with a slight sigh.

He gave you a sympathetic look. “Mr. Davis over there takes full responsibility for the crash,” He must have flashed his badge and had been handling the scene. “He said he leaned down to grab his phone which had fallen and wasn’t watching the road.”

This was a fact you had already known as you had talked to the man after you got off the phone with Dean. Dean had yet to show any anger or any inclination that he was upset about the accident, until now that was. You watch Dean’s eyes narrow as Sam spoke then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. You could see the rage bubbling below the surface, but when he opened his eyes again all you saw was concern for you.”

“I called Garth at the motel, he’s on his way with a tow truck as she’s not gonna anywhere and I figured you’d rather fix her up yourself.”

Dean nodded his head in response. “Yeah, I saw that too. Back left wheel popped.”

“Dean I’m sor…”

“Shhh Y/N”, Dean said placing a gentle hand on your cheek. “The damage is not that bad. Sidings dented in on the back side and the tire popped on impact with the truck. But that’s nothing I can’t fix. I’m just glad you called me when you needed help.

Sam knelt down next to Dean, “Speaking of Y/N what’s going on?”

You ran anxious fingers through your hair, “I’m not sure I decided I wanted food and went to the pizzeria, got back on the roa to head back and I got into an accident. I passed out only to wake back outside the pizza parlor to do it all again.”

You went on to tell them everything you have been through, every accident, everything you saw and felt on your countless attempts to get home. Sam and Dean nodded their head as you explained everything and when you finished they paused thinking it over.

“And how did you break the cycle?” Sam asked.

You shook your head. “I didn’t. I don’t know what happened I still may reset now.”

Dean looked at his watch and shook his head. “It’s been over an hour since the crash I think if you were gonna reset it would have happened already.”

“So why didn’t I?”

“You said you passed out after each accident right?”

“Yeah, due to the trauma I endured during each crash. I never made it past five minutes afterwards.”

Dean nodded his head in response. “So every time you’ve lost consciousness the loop has reset.” Sam finished Dean’s thoughts.

Dean frowned, “Which means you still could reset if you fall asleep.”

His words made your eyes widen and send a shiver down your spine in fear.

“It’s alright Y/N. We’re gonna figure this out.” Sam said placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Can you try and recall anything that you encounter that was strange or out of the ordinary?”

“You mean besides getting into thirty crashes in a row?” You deadpanned, You shook your head, “I don’t know all I really did was drive. I would go different ways or at different times in hopes I could get back, but it never worked.”

Sam and Dean’s faces mirror each other as they puzzled over what could be the cause of your endless cycle.

“Though there was this woman.” You said as you remembered how this truly started.

“What woman?” Dean asked.

“When I was waiting for the food there was this older woman at the counter waiting for hers as well. She started making causal conversation with me but then she started creeping me out.”

“What did she do?” Sam inquired.

“Nothing really. I mean there was the whole neglecting the curiosity of personnel space thing, but is more of the feeling I got. She left me uneasy and for a moment I thought she was following me, so I drove in circles around town trying to lose the tail I thought I had.”

“And then what happened?”

“Once I thought I shook her I got back on the main road to head back to the bunker and then I got into my first accident.”

“Did she say anything unusual?” Dean asked. You furrowed your brow, “You know like something that might lead to our kind of work. Chanting, spells, or anything?”

You shook your head, “Not that I know of. She tried to touch me, but I stepped back.”

“Touch you? How?” Dean asked voice slightly raising.

“She compliment my hair and then tried to run her fingers through it.” Sam and Dean shared a look communicating wordlessly. “Guys, what is it?”

Dean brought his hands out to you, “May I?” He asked as he reached for your jacket.

You nodded your head in response. Dean began running his hands up and down your coat. What he was searching for you weren’t sure, but he left no trace unturned as he scanned your sleeves and your pockets.

When he reached in your left pocket his hand stilled. You watched him pull out a small brown bag wrapped closed with leather. A hex bag.

You couldn’t believe you had no idea it was there. All this time you had been carrying it around with you and you hadn’t even felt it. Nor had you felt the woman place it in your pocket, but I guess that was the whole point.

Dean quickly took at his lighter and burned the bag into ashes effectively ending its cruel spell. You felt relief flow over you as you watched it burn. It was over. It was finally over.

“Damn witches.” You mumbled in embarrassment. You were nowhere near the level of expertise that Sam and Dean were but you still felt like should have figured it out sooner.

“Yeah, they are tricky bastards.” Dean said sharing a knowing glance with Sam.

“What do you mean?”

“The reason we were late, was because of witches they put a border spell around the town and we couldn’t leave until we broke the spell.”

“What’s that have to do with any of this.”

“We caught one of the witches. Their coven order then to do whatever possible to distract us.”

“Distract not kill? Doesn’t that seem strange?”

“That was exactly our thought.” Sam said. “And it looks like you got the same hit. I think it’s got something to do with Rowena, she was acting very strange the last time we ran into her and whatever she working on she clearly doesn’t want us getting wind.”

“Yup, but that’s something we can figure out later. For now, you need to rest.”

“Dean I told you I feel fine.”

“Sure you do, but head injuries are nothing to mess with. You may feel fine now because of a delayed reaction. Plus we don’t know what kind of trauma that might linger after thirty head injuries.”

Later that night

After getting back to the bunker you reheated your food, it was a miracle it was only slightly shaken in the crash. It would have really been a letdown if you endured all that for nothing. You ate with the boys and talked over the day’s events.

Once you were done you were feeling stuffed and tired so you laid down to take a nap

When you woke though you didn’t feel well rested instead there was a throbbing in your skull. You glanced at the clock seeing it was just after midnight. Not feeling like you would be able to sleep you decide to eat or research or whatever, you would decided on the way.

However, when you walked out of the room and started making your way down the hall you heard a clanging noise and despite the ache in your head, you followed the sound.

It led you to the garage where you found Dean working away on his baby. “How’s it coming?” You asked announcing your presence.

Dean stopped what he was doing and turned around to face you. “She’s coming along.” He said placing his tools down. In truth, she was looking better. Dean had already replaced her wheel and he was working on smoothing out her surface.

Despite his success though you still felt guilty. “Dean.” You said your voice changing as the emotion came back.

Dean looked back at you, “Y/N, don’t.”

“Dean,” You repeated, “I know I’ve said it before but I’m so sorry.”

“I know Y/N. I’m not angry at you.” He admitted.

Your eyes widen in shock, “How? I know I don’t need to tell you this, but she’s more than just a car Dean. She’s been the one constant thing in your life. She’s protected you and looked after you more than anyone else ever has. She is where your heart is, where your home is, and where you are truly the happiest. And I knew that. I don’t know why I thought I could just borrow her, especially without even running it past you.”

Dean rested his hands against the impala and leaned on her, “Why did you.”

You brushed your hand through your hair, “ I don’t know. I guess it was because I never get to drive her and I thought it would be a short trip. I guess I was feeling a little rebellious. I’ve told you about the girl I used to be, shy, innocent, and always following my mother’s orders. I guess I just saw it as a chance to break a rule without consequence and without you knowing. Though if I would have known what would happen I would have just starved until you guys got back.”

“You could’ve asked Y/N.” He said in a genuine tone.

“Oh come on Dean. Are you seriously trying to tell me you wouldn’t have made up some excuse for me not to? You hardly let me drive her as it is or Sam for that matter.”

Dean smirked as he thought it over, “I suppose you got a point there. How are you doing?”

“Okay.”

“No lasting effects from the multitude of head bashing?”

“Nope.” You lied. In truth, your headache was starting to grow in intensity so much so that the light was starting to bother you. “You know it’s funny all that I went through, after every crash and I reset back in front of the restaurant and all I could think was I got a second chance to fix this. To get her home before you figured out I took her and get her back safely. If I just called you after the third, fourth, hell even the fifth crash, I could have saved myself a lot of time and pain. I was focused on trying to escape the hand fate dealt me I missed what was really happening.”

Dean let out a small chuckle, “Yeah I guess so. Do you remember it all?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t like your endless loop with the trickster. I remember all the pain I went through and every last minute thought that crossed my mind as the end drew near.”

“Like what?”

“Oh um, just you know the usual stuff.” You said sheepishly. “Stuff I didn’t do, things I didn’t say, and that sort of thing. Love not shared.” You added softly at the end.

Judging by the way Dean’s eyes lit up though he seems to have heard you. He came to your side. “You know I was so worried when you called me tonight. You sounded so worried, so frightened. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like not being there for you.”

“I’m sorry. I was just so afraid I was gonna reset and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad that you called me when you needed help. And for the future Y/N, I don’t want you ever to be afraid of calling me when you need help because you’re afraid of how I’m gonna react. If you need help, I’m there. We could work out whatever else later.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You said a warm feeling settling in your chest. “I really appreciate that.”

Dean hummed in response, “So this unfounded love. Anyone I know?” He asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up as the blush rose to them. You wanted to lie as you were ashamed to admit your feelings. You’ve had a crush on him for three years now and every time you tried to confess your feelings it’s as if you’re hit with laryngitis.

But based on the way Dean was looking at you, with the knowing smirk, you knew he would see through your lie. “Just someone who I love very much. He takes care of me in so many ways. Looks out for me and helps me out even when I don’t know it or think I need it. He makes me feel loved and special and makes me believe that there is good in life. He makes my heart flutter with his endearing pet names and his touch is so gentle and sweet.” You looked away from him choosing instead to look past him at baby where he had been fixing her. “I know he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings in the way that I do, but that’s okay because to be loved by him, even as a friend is more than I can ever ask for.”

Dean followed your glance back at his car. “You know you were right she does mean a lot to me. And don’t get me wrong I would kill anyone who tired to take her from me, but there’s one thing you got wrong.” You looked back at him. “Baby is not where my heart lies. My heart lies with the woman who stole it. She’s a dream I never thought I’d get and I cherish every moment I have with her. Whether we’re laughing at cheesy old movies or singing along to the music on the road. I would love more than anything to take her as mine and spend the rest of my life with her.” Dean said grabbing your hands in his own and leaning in for a kiss.

You weren’t sure if this was real, a dream, or a crazy hallucination brought forth by your aching head but either way, you weren’t gonna let this moment pass by. You closed the gap between the two of you as you mapped out his mouth with yours. You only parted when the need for air forced you to and you pull your lips back with a big smile on your face.

Dean had a matching smile of his own and the two of you stood there in each other’s arms happy as can be. Dean stared into your eyes lovestruck for several moments until suddenly his expression changed as his brow raised, “How’s the head Y/N?” He asked amused.

“Good.”

His brow raises further with a smirk on his lips. “Really so you wouldn’t mind if I got back to work pounding out this siding?”

“Actually..” You began before Dean interrupted you.

“Your head hurts doesn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“I recognize the sign of a concussion Y/N and your dilated pupils and droopy eyelids are a clear giveaway. Why didn’t you say something sooner.”

“I didn’t think it was anything more than a small headache.”

Dean gave you a bitchface, “With all the head trauma you’ve had today?”

“Not hold on we don’t know that the last twenty-nine have lasting side effects seeing as I reset after each one?” You counter.

Dean shook his head smiling. “Come on.” He said taking your hand and leading you back into the bunker. “We’re getting you some Advil and getting you back to bed.”

“Only if you stay with me.”

“Always sweetheart.” He said while placing a kiss on your temple.

The Bad Days

Dean Winchester, who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, who is self-sacrificial, who hides his anguish between snarky sarcastic jokes and a flirty, I-know-I'm-hot smirk, who is protective and loyal to those he loves to a fault, is not immune to bad days. In fact, Dean has them frequently, but the bad days, and I mean the really bad days, where the weight he holds and tries to shoulder alone finally comes crashing down on him, and all he can think about are the people he couldn't save, and the people he thinks he's failed all flash through his mind, and all the ways he's let down the people that matter most to him are all that he can see when he takes in his desolate reflection, are the days that he falters, and the days where he needs you the most. Those days that he pushes everyone away the most, those are the bad days I'm talking about.

Sometimes they'll start off ordinarily, or as ordinarily as a day in the life of a Winchester, or of a hunter, can. Those are the days when the angish sneaks below his feet, circling in the shadows and ensnaring him on Sam's pointed jab, or a flash of deja-vu as he catches a glimpse of a face that looks like someone he couldn't save. The days that start off mundane for Dean are the ones where the hair trigger could be anything from a misinterpreted joke, to a hunt gone sour, could send him into a spiral that would take even the strongest archangel out of commission for months at a time. Other times, the days will start with a heart-stopping jolt, with a cold sweat drenching the back of his shirt. On days when his morning starts with a anxiety-riddled, gasp as he stretches his arm across the bed, desperate to find the grounding comfort of your sleeping form beside him, he is surly and mean, and does everything in his power to isolate himself and push everyone away. Not out of a vindictive anger, but out of a deep-rooted self-loathing that makes him believe that he deserves this pain, that he deserves to be forgotten, abandoned, and hated by the people he holds dearest.

These are the days where he needs you most. Don't get me wrong, he wants you, and needs you every day, but when he's in a spiral, on the days where even basic kindness seems like something he doesn't even deserve to dream about, these are the days that he needs all of your love and concern. All of the worry that he teasingly tells you is wasted on a strong man like him, that he gets into shouting matches with Sam and Castiel over because damnit he is not an incapable child!

So on days like that, hold him a little tighter. Dote on him a little more. Tell him that you love him, and that he deserves kindness and love and he is not evil, hell he's not even bad. Remind him that for every mistake he's made, he's fixed a hundred others, and for every person he feels he's failed, he's save a thousand more.

On days when Dean Winchester feels like the world would be better off had he never been born, remind him how glad you are that he was. Remind him of how loved he is, and cuddle a little closer to him, and pretend not to notice the way your shirt grows damp when he buries his head in your shoulder and finally, finally lets himself feel, lets himself cry.

I’m In Love With A Dumbass

Summary - Dean Winchester and Y/N Y/L/N hate each other’s guts. What happens when they have to spend weeks together due to a hunt? Will the hate only grow or will things take a turn in a direction none of them anticipated?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - SMUT 18+, Unprotected sex (y’all are better than this), Oral sex (f receiving), grinding, fingering, making out, fluff, angst, language. Please tell me if I’m forgetting something!

Word Count - 5572

A/N - Written for the lovely @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone as she recently hit 5k followers!! Big congratulations once again!!🥳🥰

I had an awesome time writing this and it was fun to write enemies-to-lovers trope for the first time. The gif I got cannot be posted or tumblr will flag my post. 😬 Thank you for hosting this challenge and letting me be a part of it. ♥️♥️♥️

Beta’d by the absolutely awesome, @msmarvelouswinchester . A big thank you my Chan!!!😘

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

Dean Winchester was pissed. He was annoyed, frustrated and furious and every other feeling that came along with it. But mostly, Dean Winchester was done. He was done with Y/N Y/L/N. He was done with this hunt that had kept stretching on. Because that meant he had to spend more time with her. 

Dean Winchester and Y/N Y/L/N were hunters, who were currently hunting a pack of werewolves for the last three weeks and two days all over the States because little brother Sammy had gotten hurt on their last hunt and was left behind to rest peacefully in the bunker, away from her! 

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Unconventional

Summary: Dean and Y/N are on their very first vacation together. Unfortunately, Dean forgot his swim trunks at home. Y/N finds an alternative that leads to some fun for both of them.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, angst, 18+

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: Spoilers for the season 15 finale, explicit sexual content, some dom!Dean, oral sex (both male and female receiving), 69, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), choking, cum shot, cursing, the Rhonda Hurley story

Square filled: Wedding @spnmixedbingo​ 

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not read if you are under the age of 18! I wrote this for @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​‘s Make-Me-Horny challenge. Congratulations again on reaching this wonderful milestone ❤ I hope you like my contribution to your challenge! 😊 In the gif that I received, the man has longer hair. So, I decided to let Dean grow out his hair for this fic 😉 You can see the gif in the according scene down below. Dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89​ 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021 Masterlist

“Find anything?”, Dean asked, his gravelly voice bouncing off of the hotel room walls.

“Yup,” Y/N replied, kicking the door shut with her sandal-clad foot. She was holding a paper bag, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “They didn’t have a lot of variety, so… Don’t get mad.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, snatching the shopping bag from her hand. After taking a single look inside, his face was quick to fall. “What’s that supposed to be?”

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The Hookup Henley

Summary: Dean is struggling with the Mark of Cain. Y/N, his best friend, wants to make him feel better. Will she succeed? What happens when the mark takes over?

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, both protected and unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), MoC!Dean

Prompts: 

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Night club

Dean’s green Henley

Square filled: Friends with benefits @spnmixedbingo 

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not read if you are under the age of 18! I wrote this fic for @libre1rose8 300 Follower Celebration! Congratulations again, my friend! 💕 You deserve every single follower and so many more! 😘 I hope you enjoy my contribution to your challenge (that totally took on a life of its own) 💗 Dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021 Masterlist 

“Come on, Dean, just try it! For me. Please?”

Dean tossed his head back, sighing in exasperation. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Y/N walked into his bedroom, coming to a halt in front of him. The older Winchester brother was sitting on the floor, leaning back against his bed, a stack of books and papers settled in his lap. Y/N placed her hands on her hips, gazing down at him with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

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Sweet Fantasy | Dean Winchester

GIF by born-to-be-his-baby88

(gave myself an actual pat on the fucking back for finding this gif like y'all are gonna see how perfect it is in a second!)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Dean won't eat his vegetables...until you offer to cash in on a very recent fantasy of his, that is.

Warnings [18+ MINORS DNI]: P*rn w/ some solid plot action actually, a bit of domestic fluff sprinkled in, reader and Dean are married (don't know if that's a warning but you should know?), reader dresses up in a sexy Zorro costume with the hat and mask included, handcuffs (Dean receiving), mentions of a safeword but not used, fingering/masturbation (reader receiving), oral sex (brief Dean receiving), a whole lotta teasing (Dean receiving), p in v sex (cowgirl, missionary), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly!), dirty talk, switch! Dean, switch! reader, very vocal Dean, brief choking (Dean receiving), creampie.

A/n: Hey! Sorry for disappearing for 3 months again...So classes finished almost 2 months ago and I've been wracking my brain about what to post. I tried finishing some of my drafts and it just wasn't working for me idk. Then, like any normal person, I was randomly watching some SPN bloopers this morning and it got to a scene where Dean said sometimes he wants to get spanked during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask and my brain ran with that shit IMMEDIATELY. Now, I'm so sorry I couldn't actually write him actually getting spanked without it sounding corny and just wrong to me? But I did write all of this in 7 hours without stopping so I'm honestly proud of it regardless.

Enjoy...

It was a Sunday evening in the bunker, meaning you were responsible for dinner. With that task came the additional task of getting Dean to eat whatever vegetables you cooked without complaining and engaging in a rant that would end with him calling himself the “meat man”.

It’s not that you were concerned about Dean's weight or appearance, after 7 years of marriage you were confident that there was nothing in the world that could make you love Dean Winchester any less. But having a steady diet of beer, beef, and pie was a surefire way to kill any man of Dean’s age faster than any monster or demon.

And God knows you’d do anything to ensure he didn’t die before his time.

Hell, you have before.

Which is why you made Dean agree to eat a side of only vegetables with whatever meat he wanted at least once a week. This week it was string beans and sautéed mushrooms, aka his least favorite vegetable.

But you didn’t have the time to make the 45-minute drive to the grocery store earlier that day so he would have to deal.

Or you wish he would deal…

“Mushrooms? Baby come on,” he complained when you placed his plate before him.

“Hey, it’s all that was left in the fridge. Eat up,” you shrugged, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You know, we could always do no vegetables,” Dean offered with a wide grin.

You chuckled and used a finger to squish his stubbled cheek. “You wish, Winchester.”

He sighed in defeat and turned to pick up his fork.

You looked to make sure Sam was out of earshot before leaning down to where your lips grazed Dean’s ear. “Tell you what, if you eat those vegetables I’ll do that thing you told me about…later” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes lit up immediately, “The thing?” he harshly whispered.

You nodded with a smile.

“Costume and everything?” He made a gesture with his hands.

“Yup, I’ve been hiding the costume for weeks.”

“I’m game” Dean agreed, digging into the mushrooms first.

You turned away to share your own plate with a smile.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping later,” Sam announced as he sat beside Dean with his plate. He met your eyes, “Anything else you forgot to put on the list?”

“Yeah stop at the liquor store and grab me a bottle of red? I ran out,” you answered sitting across from the boys with your plate.

Sam grabbed a pen and a piece of folded paper from his pocket and added it to his list, “Yeah, no problem. What brand again?”

You swallowed a piece of your chicken with a smirk. “I’m sure you already know seeing as you’re the one who emptied the bottle to the very last drop,” you addressed Sam.

His pen slipped from his grip, his green eyes widening to meet your narrowed ones.

“You drink red wine?” Dean pointed at Sam in disbelief as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“How did you know?” He asked you, ignoring Dean’s quip.

“I saw you passed out in the library clutching the bottle the other night.”

“Listen Dean finished all the beer and it was the first thing I saw,” he defended himself.

“Oh, you’re getting more creative with your excuses. I'm impressed!” You gushed, sarcasm evident in your tone, “What was it again last week? ‘Oh Eileen wanted to taste some’ " you mimicked his gruff tone causing him to roll his eyes and Dean’s laughter to grow louder. “-when we all know that Eileen is a white wine type of gal.”

"I-" Sam tried to come up with a retort but eventually gave up. “Whatever.”

“Yeah pick up 3 bottles this time in case Eileen wants a taste,” you replied with a grin.

“Three bottles?!” He exclaimed.

“You aren’t the one paying for it, genius,” you reminded him, referring to the unlimited card Charlie hacked for you all those years ago.

“Yeah but I’m gonna have to lug it up here,” Sam mumbled as he stuck his fork into his chicken.

Dinner continued mostly in silence with Sam thinking about the two lousy trips he’d have to make between his car and the kitchen once he returns with the groceries, Dean thinking about the reward he’ll be getting for the vegetables he’s actually grown used to eating, and y/n thinking about all the ways she’s gonna make Dean squirm later.

~ ~ ~

Hours had passed since dinner and Sam was now on his way to the grocery store leaving just you and Dean in the bunker.

To say he was excited would be an understatement.

Dean first told you about this fantasy of his after a case you had months ago required you to take a trip to an adult costume shop to question the owner. It took mere seconds for the image of you in the very specific costume to cross his mind after laying eyes on the packaging.

You laughed at the idea when he told you and silently decided you would try and find the costume.

Of course, he didn’t believe you would actually indulge him but you were actually excited too. Costumes and toys weren’t new territory for you and Dean but they were few and far between with your unpredictable hunting schedules.

Dean now sat at the edge of your shared bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt waiting for you to return like you had promised.

But it had been almost 20 minutes since you left to get changed and his patience was wearing thin. He was seconds away from getting up and coming to see if you needed help or if you were even hurt.

Which you predicted would be the case.

So you had been standing out of sight by the doorway for less than a minute now waiting for him to try and leave.

“Damnit,” Dean eventually gave in to his worries and began to make his way to the door.

You smirked once you heard his determined steps drawing closer.

Dean’s eyes widened once you spun from your hiding spot against the wall to stand before him. “Looking for me?”

You watched his throat bob and his pupils dilate as he took in your full look.

Atop your head and face rested a sexy black Zorro mask and matching hat. You were also wearing a black sleeveless leather top that stopped in your midriff region and had strings tied between your breasts that allowed a whole lot of cleavage to be on display. The leather skirt that accompanied was low-waisted and stopped at your upper thigh, matching the black thong you were wearing beneath.

You had stretched the thin straps of the thong along your hips above the skirt for added flair.

In your right hand, you held a fake silver sword similar to the one Zorro held in the movies, and hanging from the left side of your skirt were two handcuffs ready and waiting to be used.

You were sex on knee-length boot-covered legs.

Dean felt himself growing hard already.

You bit your bottom lip at the way your husband’s eyes roamed your body, hoping the dark red lipstick covering it was as transfer and waterproof as the box advertised.

“You look...stunning,” Dean marveled. The model on the packaging of the costume didn’t come close to how it looked on your body.

Your heart swelled at the compliment before remembering the persona you had practiced for the night ahead. “Oh I know,” you took a step closer and leaned against the doorway. You pointed the sword in Dean’s direction. “Why are you still dressed, Dean?” you asked with furrowed brows and a smile.

A chuckle almost left your lips at the sight of Dean fumbling with his pant strings and tripping over his own legs to send the pajama bottoms flying over to a random corner while throwing off his t-shirt with record speed.

He stood before you in only his boxers, his enjoyment of your costume evident by the bulge in the center.

“Get on the bed.” You told him, your tone not excessively commanding but sexy enough to make him obey immediately.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, quickly sitting and sliding up to the headboard of the bed.

You walked further into the room and placed your sword down before climbing onto the bed and slowly crawling to where Dean sat. His green eyes followed your every move as you moved to straddle him, but not fully.

You then grabbed the two pairs of handcuffs attached to your hips and twirled them around your fingers. “How you feeling Dean?” you checked in, your hips hovering above his thighs, making sure to not touch his erection just yet.

“Oh, I feel great. Real great. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this great,” he nodded eagerly as you cuffed each of his hands to each bedpost, getting a face full of your boobs in the process.

"You sound nervous," you teased him, "Am I making you nervous baby?"

"Me? Nervous? Pfft!"

You scoffed, not believing him one bit. "What's our safe word?" you asked him gently.

Dean leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow to press a sweet kiss against your stomach. " 'Oklahoma', baby," he grinned.

You then let your clothed ass sink down on his covered erection. Dean groaned and tried to reach for your hips instinctively only to meet the restriction of the handcuffs. “I hope they aren’t too tight 'cause they’re gonna be on there for a while,” you nearly bust out laughing at the look Dean gave you.

“A while?” he repeated, dreading not being able to touch you at a time like this.

You shrugged, “If you behave I might change my mind.”

Before he could argue further, you leaned forward and connected your lips in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your face as your lips drifted to his neck while your hands found themselves in his hair.

A breathy groan slipped past his lips when you nipped a specific spot beneath his ear lobe. “You’re so loud. Maybe I should’ve bought a muzzle,” you whispered in his ear teasingly, feeling his dick jump beneath you at your words. “I'll remember that next time,” you replied to his body's response.

“Baby, do you have any idea how amazing you look? ” Dean gushed, struggling against his restraints as you began to grind your hips against his covered cock.

You smiled and met his lips in a kiss once again. He slipped his tongue between your welcoming lips, allowing his taste to flood your mouth. You pulled away seconds later, nipping his bottom lip, and removed yourself from his lap.

He watched nervously, awaiting your next move while you scooted farther away from him along the bed. You slowly slipped off your boots, your confidence unwavering as you held Dean’s hungry stare.

He watched you use a hand to hold yourself upright before spreading your legs open to reveal the lace thong covering your already-drenched pussy. “Are you about to..." he trailed off, jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Hmm mhm. And there is not a damn thing you can do about it...except watch," you slowly removed your thong and threw it at Dean’s lap. He immediately became hyperaware of the feeling of the wet lace draped over his dick.

You slowly brought two fingers up to your lips and sucked them even slower to coat them in your saliva and give Dean a show before bringing them down to where you needed them the most. You began slow ministrations against your aching clit, pulling moans from yourself that made Dean impossibly harder.

He took a deep breath at the sight, imagining his own fingers parting your folds and rubbing at your swollen clit.

“You are a menace,” Dean laughed in obvious distress, licking his dried lips. He couldn’t handle watching you touch yourself without being able to touch you any longer so he looked away, swallowing harshly at the sound of your wetness against your fingers.

“Look at me Dean,” you mewled, continuing to rub your pussy in small quick circles. He turned reluctantly, watching as you slowly pushed two fingers inside your dripping hole. “See this, baby? It’s all for you,” you said, melting into a moan when your fingers grazed a spot inside you that drew your orgasm closer.

“I gotta taste you, baby,” Dean pleaded, “Open these and let me taste you, please,” he rattled the handcuffs against the bedposts.

The pure agony in his voice had your fingers and breathing speeding up and soon your climax was approaching. Dean’s breathing picked up in response. “Fuck, Dean I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, pressing a thumb to your clit while your fingers kept working inside of you to bring you to the edge.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Dean’s forehead as he watched you keenly. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, his self-control draining by the second.

Your eyes remained open and locked onto his, your moans growing louder and borderline pornographic. You were putting on a show and he was losing his mind.

“I’m cumming, fuck-“ you panted as your first orgasm of the night slammed into you and caused you to make a small mess on the sheets beneath you. Your body shook sporadically with aftershocks of your own work

Dean’s head hung low. “Jesus baby,” he huffed, his own voice strangled, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack aren’t you?”

You smiled as you crawled back up to sit on Dean’s lap, taking your thong and throwing them somewhere unseen. “Ehh maybe,” you replied coyly, straightening your hat and mask. “And since you behaved so well,” you reached a hand down to touch his clothed cock, “I think you deserve a reward,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Dean allowed you to pull his boxers off his body, watching you wrap a hand around his painfully erect cock. “Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You slid down to where you could lay flat on your stomach between his legs and leaned down to briefly swirl your tongue around where precum was gathered at the tip.

“Take the hat off and look at me pretty girl,” Dean said.

You complied, throwing the hat off to the edge of the bed before diving down and licking his tip once again, but this time keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Holy shit,” Dean groaned, his hips twitching upwards. You then opened your mouth and wrapped it around his length, slowly sliding down until your nose was nuzzled at the base, staying there for a few seconds before coming back up for air. “Hell yes, baby that's perfect,” he panted as you began sucking faster along his length, a few lone tears flowing from beneath the mask from the familiar stretch of his cock in your throat.

Your head continued to bob up and down Dean’s length for some time, drawing shallow moans of your name and grunts from him before you finally let up and pressed one last kiss against the side of his cock.

Dean’s chest heaved as you licked your lips and used a hand to wipe your face clean. “Goddamnit," he whined at your sudden stop, feeling his impending orgasm return to its hiding place.

You grabbed your previously discarded Zorro hat and placed it back on your head before hiking your skirt up to allow you more room to move your legs around Dean’s lap. “Can’t have you cumming before I’m done with you sweetheart,” you replied while untying the strings of your top and removing it.

The keys to the handcuffs dropped onto Dean’s lap from where you previously hid them in your top. You had honestly forgotten you put them there but it just presented yet another opportunity to get Dean all whiny and desperate, which was a rarity that you rather enjoyed.

“Oops would you look at that,” you exclaimed playfully, taking them up and dangling them in front of Dean’s eyes.

"Alright baby you broke me. Come on, just let me go, and trust me, I will make it worth your while,” Dean bargained with you.

"As enticing as that sounds," you paused and brought your hand up to caress Dean’s cheek before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. You pulled away with a grin. “I love hearing you beg, so no,” you whispered against his lips.

Dean loudly groaned watching you gently place the keys down on the closest nightstand. “Shit,” he shut his eyes.

But they shortly shot open once you used a hand to grip his length and bring it between your dripping folds.

A pleased hum left your lips once the tip glazed your clit causing Dean to swallow harshly. “Aren’t you sick of teasing me,” he hissed.

Fuck no.

You used a free hand to grip the back of his hair. “Take a deep breath for me, Dean,” you told him, feeling his chest rise against yours soon after. And as it fell, you slipped his cock inside your entrance.

You slowly sank down onto his length until it was fully buried inside you, groaning at the welcomed stretch.

“I love those sounds you make for me,” Dean whispered against your lips.

“Oh you’re gonna be making some of those sounds too,” you smirked, clenching around him causing a sharp grunt to reach your ears.

You guided your hips up and down Dean’s length, riding him at a quickening pace. He jerked his hips upward to match your cadence drawing a gasp from your lips when his cock hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “There you go baby,” Dean groaned, “you look so fucking good riding my cock.”

The hat and mask from your costume managed to stay in place as you slammed down on Dean’s cock repeatedly. And it was an image that he would never forget.

Your hand released Dean’s hair and instead found itself wrapped around Dean’s neck as you rode him faster. A whine that shot straight to your cunt escaped his lips when your fingers slightly tightened their grip around his throat.

You suddenly slowed down and instead began to grind your hips against his, moaning loudly when your clit grazed his pelvis. “I’m gonna cum again shit!” You threw your head back in obscene pleasure, releasing Dean's throat and holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Fuck yes. Use my cock to get off, sweetheart,” Dean urged you on before leaning forward to suck one of your nipples as best as he could.

This soon pushed you over the edge, your climax tearing a scream from within you as your hips faltered around Dean’s cock, your hat flying off your head once more. Dean relished in the way your cunt pulsed around him from your orgasm as well as the look of sheer pleasure that crossed your face at that moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled up at you, meaning every word.

You kissed his forehead with a smile and reached for the handcuff keys. “I think I’ve tortured you enough,” you freed his right hand first, pressing a kiss against his wrist, then did the same to his left, “This is supposed to be a reward after all.”

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk at his newfound freedom. “Yes it is, sweetheart.”

A surprised yelp left your lips when Dean gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your hat and placed it on his own head before sending you a wink. “And I’m not feeling rewarded just yet.”

You nearly came just from the sight of Dean hovering above you in only that hat. “We’re gonna have to talk about my sexy cowboy fantasy when we’re done here,” you raised a brow.

A low chuckle echoed from Dean’s chest. He reached up and tipped his hat in your direction, “yes ma’am.” He replied with a deep southern drawl.

Your pussy clenched instantly.

“That was hot as fuck,” you breathed.

“Thank you darlin’ “ he replied in the same accent with a wink.

You giggled before pulling him down for a kiss. He pulled away and touched the mask still wrapped around your eyes. “And thank you for doing this for me, baby,” he smiled down at you, “It was so so much better than I imagined.”

“It was definitely my pleasure,” you nodded happily, feeling his hands glide down your sides.

“Was?” He protested playfully. “The night is still young, sweetheart!” He threw your legs over his shoulder causing you to exclaim at the sudden move. He placed a kiss on each of your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance before entering you once again.

“FUCK” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, feeling your eyes well up with tears of pleasure in record time.

Dean pulled out and slammed into you once again, his grip on your legs tightening as he eased into a quick pace.

“YES-Dean holy shit,” you moaned, eyes quickly rolling to the back of your head and back arching up and off the bed as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“How’s it feeling baby?” Dean said, bringing a hand down to play with your clit.

“So good, Dean, so fucking good,” you rambled, your skin buzzing with pleasure, “Harder, please, I'm almost there,” you found yourself begging.

“You gonna cum for me already pretty girl?” He sped up his slaughter on your cunt, "Maybe I should make you beg for it?" his voice was low and demeaning but only spurred you on more.

You shook your head adamantly while your hands fumbled around Dean's waist for a solid grip. So he simply released your legs and grabbed your hands before holding them down above your head, driving his cock into you even harder at this new angle.

“Dean!" you broke off into a strangled moan.

Dean’s lips attacked your open neck. “I wish we had neighbors so they could hear you screaming my fucking name,” he all but growled as the sounds of your moans and skin against skin plagued the air.

You came with a yell seconds later, your release coating Dean’s cock and the sheets. “That’s my girl. There you go baby,” he released your hands and held your face, guiding you down from your high.

Your hands gripped Dean’s hair harshly as you kissed his lips and his hips stuttered, his cum coating your insides soon after. You swallowed his grunts as his cock continued to leak and twitch inside you.

Broken pants befell both your lips in between sloppy kisses while your orgasms passed and your shared spend flowed between your legs. You eventually released his lips for air, “That was-“

“-Incredible,” he mirrored your thoughts, removing your hat from his head. Dean used a hand to remove your mask and brush a few strands of hair behind your ears once he moved to lie down beside you.

“Hi,” you grinned in awe of the man you called your husband. “Hey sweetness,” he grinned back, adoration evident in his deep green eyes.

Your cheeks flushed as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. He quickly grabbed his previously discarded t-shirt and used it to clean up the mess between your legs before throwing it in the laundry basket nearby.

You snuggled into his side once he returned to the bed.

“So uhh what was it you were saying about your cowboy kink?” Dean smugly asked after a few seconds.

“Goddamnit Dean,” you shamefully groaned into his side, gaining a chuckle from him.

ANDDD SCENE!

Hope it wasn't too bad seeing as I gave up on editing it like 75% through it.

Tbh I highly doubt more than 20 people are gonna see this because I have no idea how strong the Supernatural fandom's presence is on here, which also means that I don't know if anyone has used a plot like this one before so don't be afraid to let me know if that is the case and I will make changes as I see fit!

(Also let me know if you want a sequel one shot with sexycowboy! Dean and reader. Or feel free to make any other requests)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are ALWAYS appreciated :)

divider creds : @cafekitsune

It’s been a while...

Hi there! I’m Bee and I used to write a lot of fanfics and imagines. It’s been a few years since I’ve written anything and I would love to get back into it. That being said, I have a few stories now that are kind of back logged that I can throw out at you all at any given point. And I probably will.

I should also tell you I used to write a lot of YouTuber fics. But, have changed to characters from TV shows and movies, as well as Critical Role. Things that I want to write for include:

TV Shows ~

Peaky Blinders

Supernatural

Reign

Stranger Things

Movies ~

Marvel

Critical Role

I’m sure there are others and I will update this list when I remember them. But, for now this is what I’m offering or feel slightly comfortable with writing.

Just made my first fic on ao3! Please be nice lol

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 20 Finale

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.7k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: We've reached the end!

Original / Previous Chapter

The days blurred together in a haze of crying—sometimes the babies, sometimes her. Most of the time, it was both.

Y/N dragged herself from one moment to the next, barely hanging on, snapping at anyone who dared try to help. She didn’t care that everyone meant well. Didn’t care that Theresa gently offered to take one of the girls so she could rest, or that Sam would cook and leave meals outside her door, uneaten and cold. She didn’t want help. She didn’t want them.

She wanted Dean.

Her girls—Mary and Jody—deserved to know him. Deserved his rough voice humming lullabies, his arms rocking them to sleep, his wide grin when one of them smiled for the first time. But he was gone. And pretending otherwise only made the ache worse.

She kept the nursery pristine, almost obsessively so. Every bottle in its place, every onesie folded just right. The twins were fed, changed, held, and loved. But not once did she hand them over to anyone else, even when her hands trembled from exhaustion. They were all she had left of Dean, and she wouldn’t let them go.

Mornings were the worst. She would wake with one or both babies curled against her, and for a split second, she’d roll over expecting to find Dean beside her. And every time, that moment of Jody shattered like glass.

She’d sit up, hold the girls tighter, and pretend she hadn’t cried again.

It was sometime after midnight when the knock came. Not loud. Just a soft, almost hesitant tap at the door.

Y/N didn’t answer.

She was on the floor beside the crib, one arm resting against it, cradling Mary to her chest while Jody slept in the bassinet behind her. Her body throbbed with fatigue, her shoulders tight from days of tension, but nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The empty space beside her—where Dean should have been—felt unbearable.

Another knock. Then, silence.

“Y/N,” came Castiel’s voice—quiet, careful.

She shut her eyes, jaw tightening.

“Go away.”

But the door opened anyway. Of course it did. Angels didn’t need permission.

Castiel stepped inside, his presence soft but undeniable. He moved slowly into the dim room, scanning the shadows until his gaze landed on her. She didn’t bother to look up.

“You haven’t left this room in four days,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

“You’re not eating. You’re barely sleeping. The girls—”

“What I need is Dean,” she cut him off, sharply. “Not you. Not a report on how I’m doing. Not this constant hovering.”

Castiel didn’t move. “Dean is gone.”

She turned her head toward him, her eyes blazing despite the exhaustion carved into her face.

“And you can just go see him, can’t you?” she said, voice trembling with restrained fury. “You can just pop into Heaven like it’s nothing. Visit him. Talk to him. While I’m stuck here—trapped—with two babies and no answers.”

Castiel’s expression faltered.

“Don’t deny it. Don’t lie to me,” she pressed, her voice cracking. “I know what you are. I know what you can do. And yet you come here with your sympathy like that’s supposed to make it better.”

“I didn’t go to see him,” Castiel said quietly. “Not once. Because I knew it would be unfair to you.”

Y/N laughed bitterly under her breath, tears welling. “Unfair to me? He’s your friend too, Cas. Don’t pretend it doesn’t eat you alive. But at least you can. You could just walk through those gates and see his face again. Hear his voice. I would give everything for that. Do you even realize what that kind of power means to someone like me?”

Castiel looked down, then slowly crossed the room. He didn’t touch her—he never did without permission—but he knelt beside her, his tone solemn.

“I hear him in Heaven,” he admitted. “Not his voice. Not like before. But the peace? The light? It’s stronger when a soul like his is there. I feel it. It radiates outward.”

Her face crumpled. “Then tell me he’s okay. Please, just—tell me he’s happy.”

Castiel’s eyes softened. “He is. He is more at peace than I have ever seen him. But he misses you. He misses you and the girls. That pain lingers, even in a perfect place.”

A sob escaped before she could stop it. Mary stirred, whimpering, and Y/N instinctively hushed her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m drowning down here,” she whispered. “I can’t do this without him.”

“You are doing it,” Castiel said gently. “And not alone.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how many people are around. None of them are him.”

“No,” he agreed. “But they love you. And so did he. So does he. That love hasn’t left you, Y/N. It’s in every breath your daughters take.”

She didn’t respond for a long time. Just sat there, rocking Mary slightly, the pain raw and exposed between them.

“Stay,” she said finally. “Just for a while. Not because I need help. Just… don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Castiel replied.

And for the first time since Dean died, Y/N let someone stay.

The descent was gradual—so slow that at first, no one noticed.

Y/N stopped sleeping entirely. She only ate enough to keep up her strength for the twins. And when they slept, she didn't. Instead, she read. She read until her eyes burned and her fingers trembled from turning pages.

Every book in the Men of Letters library on angels, resurrection, lore from apocryphal texts, fragments from Heaven’s war, rare Nephilim accounts—she devoured it all. A growing storm of theories and possibilities formed in her mind, fraying at the edges with every passing day.

She stopped seeing Sam and Theresa, stopped letting them into her room. She only emerged to feed the girls, bathe them, rock them. And then she disappeared again, always clutching another volume.

The girls were thriving, healthy and strong—but their mother was unraveling.

Then came the night Castiel appeared again.

He had felt it—the pulse of her energy across the bunker like a beacon, unrefined and full of intent. He found her standing in the war room, her hair unbrushed, circles under her eyes, books scattered across the table in a chaos that had once been meticulously organized.

"You knew," she said as he stepped closer. Her voice was low and brittle, like a fraying wire stretched too tight. "All this time, you knew. You can bring him back."

Cas stiffened. “Y/N—”

“Don’t lie to me!” she shouted, slamming a book down. “I’ve read it all. The Enochian rites. The resurrection rituals. The divine exceptions made during the Fall. Even the lore on Nephilim interference. Don’t you dare stand there and pretend it’s impossible.”

He moved slowly toward her, hands at his sides, calm and cautious. “There are rules.”

“You’re an angel,” she spat. “You break rules. That’s what you do. You raised Dean before, didn’t you? You pulled him from Hell.”

“That was Heaven’s will,” Castiel replied. “I was ordered to. Now? There is no order. No divine instruction. I cannot act on emotion alone.”

“Then lie,” she whispered. “Lie to them. Trick the Host. Steal him out if you have to. You’ve done worse, Cas. You’ve done so much worse for less.”

He stepped closer, voice softening. “You don’t understand what it would cost.”

“I don’t care,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’d give anything. I’d die right here, right now, if it meant he could hold his daughters.”

Castiel’s face twisted in quiet agony. “Y/N—”

“You get to see him,” she snapped. “You walk in and out of Heaven like it’s a hallway. You get to know he’s safe. You get to feel his peace. And me? I get nothing. I get to hear his voice in my dreams and wake up with my arms empty.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Y/N’s breath came in hard, shallow gasps. She clutched the edge of the war table like it was the only thing holding her up. Her mind raced with every word she’d read, every ritual that might be twisted into a loophole.

“You owe me,” she said. “You owe him. Bring him back, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes shimmered, but he didn’t speak.

“I swear to you,” she said, voice cracking, “I’ll find another way. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself. I don’t care if I have to summon every goddamned archangel in existence. I’m not raising them alone. I won’t.”

The twins cried from down the hall.

Castiel turned his head, just slightly—toward the sound, toward the reminder of what Dean left behind.

“I will not desecrate his peace,” he said quietly. “Not even for you.”

Y/N stared at him, her face crumpling, fury collapsing into anguish.

“Then leave,” she whispered.

He did.

And she stood in the center of the war room, books scattered like broken promises around her feet, and let herself fall apart.

…

Castiel entered Heaven not with ceremony, but with solemn weight.

He stepped through the veil in silence, the hum of celestial energy thrumming faintly in the distance. Heaven had changed since Jack's ascension. The cold bureaucracy of the old Host was gone, replaced by something softer—more open, more human.

But even still, some doors were not meant to be opened lightly.

Castiel stood in the Garden—Heaven’s heart, where souls wandered freely beneath ever-blooming trees and gentle sunlight. Everything here was serene. Peaceful.

Except for him.

Jack was already waiting. He sat barefoot in the grass beneath an arching willow, sunlight dancing on his skin. He looked young, impossibly young for someone bearing the mantle of God. But his eyes—his eyes held eternity.

“I knew you’d come,” Jack said quietly, not looking up. “You’ve been wrestling with the question since the moment Dean died.”

Castiel didn’t speak right away. His trench coat barely stirred in the celestial breeze. He watched Jack closely, searching his face for a trace of the boy he once knew—the child he raised, protected, mourned.

“Y/N is falling apart,” Castiel said at last.

Jack nodded, fingers idly brushing the petals of a flower near his knee. “She’s grieving. And she’s not alone in that.”

“She’s beyond grief now. She’s... desperate.” Cas took a slow step forward. “She’s reading resurrection rites, apocryphal scrolls. She’s going to burn herself out trying to find a way. She thinks I’m holding back. And maybe I am.”

Jack’s gaze met his then—gentle, but immeasurably ancient. “Are you asking me for permission? Or for power?”

Castiel swallowed. “Both.”

Silence hung between them, thick and sacred.

“I could bring Dean back,” Jack said, voice steady. “With a word, I could restore his body. His soul. His memories. He could walk back into that bunker like nothing ever happened.”

Cas felt a flicker of hope, painful and sharp.

“But,” Jack continued, “there is a balance. Dean died fulfilling his purpose. He died at peace, surrounded by love. To bring him back would mean unraveling that final thread.”

“He didn’t get to meet his daughters,” Cas said. “He didn’t get to live the life he earned. That wasn’t peace—it was unfinished.”

Jack looked away again, toward a distant hill where a soul wandered alone, humming some long-forgotten tune.

“Sometimes peace isn’t a full story,” Jack said. “It’s a quiet ending. And sometimes love means letting go.”

Castiel stepped forward, his voice quieter now. “She’s drowning, Jack. The girls—Dean’s daughters—will grow up without knowing him. If there is a way, if there’s even a chance... I have to ask. What would it take?”

Jack was silent for a long time. The wind whispered through the Garden, and for a moment, everything was still.

Jack looked up at him again. “It would take sacrifice. A life for a life. Or something greater. Dean’s return would echo across realms—it would upset the natural order, fracture the peace of countless souls. He would not come back without cost.”

Castiel stood still, the quiet words settling over him like snowfall. He understood. He had always understood.

He looked at Jack—really looked at him. The boy who had become God. The child he had raised. The one who had once looked to him for guidance, for love, for identity.

Now Castiel looked with nothing but certainty.

Jack didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

And Castiel didn’t speak. He only bowed his head.

Just once.

A silent agreement passed between them—wordless, sacred, irreversible.

The wind in the Garden shifted.

The light grew warmer.

Jack closed his eyes.

And Castiel disappeared.

…

The night air was cold, biting at my skin as I stood in the center of the old crossroads.

It was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made you feel like the world was holding its breath, watching you with wide, unblinking eyes. The box in my hands felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Inside it, every piece of me I had left to give. Dirt crusted my boots. My hands shook.

I was really going to do this.

I fell to my knees, digging. Just like the books had said. Four corners. Unmarked earth. Blood if needed.

I wasn’t afraid. Not of the demon. Not of the deal. Not of what it would cost.

Dean was gone. And there wasn’t anything left of me without him.

The girls were safe. Sam and Theresa were doing everything right. But I couldn’t do this anymore—pretending like my soul wasn’t already six feet under with him. I needed him back. I needed to be whole again.

I pressed the box into the earth. A tear slid down my cheek as I whispered the words.

But before the last syllable left my lips, the air cracked like thunder.

Grace.

The light around me shimmered with gold.

“Don’t,” came a voice, quiet and calm but firm as iron.

I spun around, stumbling to my feet.

“Cas—” I nearly choked on the name.

He stood just outside the circle, trench coat fluttering, face drawn tight with something I couldn’t place. Grief. Resolve. Love.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You were never meant to.”

My voice cracked. “Then who was? Who’s supposed to live like this—raising his daughters without him? Pretending everything’s fine when I feel like I’m drowning every second of the day? I need him, Cas.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” I snapped. “You can go to Heaven. You can see him. I’ve read every book in the library. I know you can visit. And yet you let me rot down here with nothing but memories. You let the girls grow up never knowing their father!”

Cas didn’t flinch. He just walked closer.

“I did visit,” he said softly. “And I spoke with Jack.”

I froze.

“What?”

He looked at me then, and something passed between us—something deep and ancient. The kind of weight only an angel could carry.

“You were never meant to carry this pain alone. And you won’t have to for much longer.”

I stared at him, hope and fear clashing violently inside my chest. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t promise when. Or how. But I made a vow. To Jack. To Dean. To you. And soon… you won’t have to call the dark things anymore.”

My knees gave out. I dropped to the ground, sobbing into the dirt. The box spilled beside me, its contents scattering—photographs, Dean’s amulet, his old flask.

Castiel knelt beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder.

“I will not let you be alone forever,” he said.

For the first time in weeks, I believed him.

…

The sun was just starting to rise, washing the sky in soft strokes of pink and orange when Cas brought me to the house.

It didn’t feel real.

Two stories. White shutters. A little porch swing that creaked softly in the breeze. There were flowerbeds, already blooming, and a patch of wild green yard out back that looked big enough for the girls to run wild in.

It looked like something out of someone else’s life—somewhere safe. Somewhere still.

“Where are we?” I asked, voice thin, like I was afraid speaking too loud might break whatever fragile thing was happening.

Cas didn’t answer right away. He just looked at the house with that quiet reverence he sometimes got when he looked at the sky or talked about humanity. Then he turned to me.

“This is your home now. Yours, the girls’, and Dean’s.”

The world stopped moving.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Jack,” Cas said, stepping closer, his voice soft but sure. “We reached an agreement.”

I could barely breathe. “Dean…?”

Cas nodded. “He’s coming back. But there’s a condition.”

My heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Anything.”

“You and Dean have to let go of hunting. No demons. No ghosts. No monsters. You live a normal life. This house is warded, protected by Jack’s power. No supernatural being can enter without your permission.”

My knees went weak. I grabbed the porch railing to steady myself.

“A normal life?” I whispered, like I didn’t quite understand the words.

“You raise your daughters. You rest. You heal. Dean gets to be a father, and you get to be with him again. But this is your only chance. If either of you return to hunting… the deal ends.”

I didn’t respond. I just stared at the front door like maybe if I looked hard enough, I’d see Dean stepping through it already. Alive. Whole. Real.

Cas placed a hand on my arm. “He’ll be here soon.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until he gently wiped a tear from my cheek. I turned and looked up at him.

“Why?” I asked. “Why did Jack say yes?”

Cas hesitated. “Because he saw you. Saw what this grief was doing. And because Dean—he earned peace a thousand times over.”

“And you?”

Cas offered a faint smile. “I believe in second chances. Even for the broken.”

I nodded, unable to speak. My chest felt cracked open, all the pain and rage and ache pouring out, replaced with something softer. Something I hadn’t let myself feel in months:

Hope.

Cas gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “Go inside.”

I opened the door and stepped into a home that already smelled faintly like cedar and lemon. There was furniture—simple, warm, familiar. Two bassinets sat by the window, facing the sunlight. The couch had a dent in it, like someone had already spent time curled up there. There were picture frames on the wall—empty now, but waiting.

Waiting for a life to begin.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps on the porch.

My heart slammed into my ribs, and I turned so fast the world blurred.

The door creaked. The air shifted.

And there he was.

Dean.

His eyes locked on mine, and everything inside me broke and stitched itself back together in the same breath. He looked exactly like I remembered—tired eyes, crooked smirk, soul-deep weariness tucked behind every glance—but alive. So vividly alive.

He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around me. I clung to him like I’d never let go again. My hands tangled in his shirt. His lips pressed against my temple.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice rough.

“I love you,” I breathed.

He pulled back just enough to cup my face. “I love you too.”

Outside, the sky kept shifting, the world kept spinning.

But inside our little house, time finally stood still.

The world felt like it was moving in slow motion. Everything around me—Dean, the house, the air itself—was just… perfect. The kind of perfect you don’t ever really expect to happen in your lifetime, but here it was. Here he was.

Dean.

He was holding me, holding on like he wasn’t sure if he could, like maybe he’d disappear again if he let go. But he didn’t. We just stood there, breathing each other in, feeling the weight of the moment settle around us like a soft blanket.

“Dean,” I whispered, pulling back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” he said, voice thick, like he couldn’t believe it either. “I’m not going anywhere.”

My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw as if making sure this wasn’t some dream I’d wake up from. “We’re really doing this. We’re really—”

Dean’s lips pressed to mine, cutting off the words I didn’t know how to finish. When he pulled back, I could see it in his eyes—the promise, the relief. “We are. You and me, and the girls.” His voice dropped a little, as if the weight of it hit him too. “We’re a family.”

Tears burned my eyes again. This time, they weren’t from grief—they were from something deeper, something quieter. I nodded, feeling it in every part of me. “Yeah. We are.”

And then, like a gift, like a miracle, the sound of tiny coos filled the air. The soft gurgling noise that was both a question and an answer, coming from the other room.

“Come on,” I whispered, taking his hand and tugging him toward the nursery.

His steps faltered just slightly, but he followed. We passed through the living room, where the sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything, and into the room where our daughters were sleeping soundly in their cribs.

Dean paused in the doorway, his breath catching as his gaze landed on them. The twins—our girls—lay there in the soft pink blankets we’d picked out weeks ago. Their tiny faces were peaceful, round, perfect.

I stepped into the room, guiding Dean with me. Slowly, he approached the first crib where one of the girls lay. His hand hovered just above her, like he wasn’t sure how to touch her, but then he reached down, his fingers brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, looking up at me, his face full of awe.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” I said, voice thick with emotion. “They’re going to know how loved they are.”

Dean’s lips trembled, his eyes shining with something I hadn’t seen in so long. “I can’t believe this,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to be their father.”

I stepped beside him, wrapping my arm around his waist, and together we looked down at the girls, at our daughters. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and I knew mine was matching his beat for beat.

And then, Dean did something I’ll never forget. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the forehead of the girl in the crib. He whispered something, so soft, so tender, that I could barely hear it, but I knew what it was.

“I’ll always be here, baby girl. Always.”

And just like that, the world shifted. The pain, the loss, the years of fighting, of struggling—all of it seemed so far away in that moment. Because in front of us, right there, was everything we’d ever wanted. A family. A home. A future.

Dean stepped back, standing straight again, but still keeping his eyes on the twins. “They’re gonna be alright, right?” he asked, as though it was the only question that mattered.

“They’re going to be perfect,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “Just like you.”

We stood there together for a while, just watching them sleep. The sound of their breathing filled the room, soft and rhythmic, like a lullaby that was just for us. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of peace. In the possibility of something real.

For the first time in a long time, I felt whole.

…

It’s strange how life has a way of weaving moments together. The simple, everyday things that used to feel like they were just part of the grind—things I didn’t even notice—now feel like a blessing.

Like the soft click of the front door opening and closing. Like the way the air smells after a spring rain, fresh and clean. Like the sound of tiny feet shuffling on the hardwood floor.

And then there’s Dean.

Every moment with him feels precious now. The way he moves around the house, the way he looks at me as though he can’t quite believe we’re here, together. It’s like we’re both waiting for something—waiting for the world to remind us that this is real. But I don’t need a reminder anymore.

We’ve settled into a routine, something I never thought I’d have. Dean helps with the twins when he’s not working on the house, and we’ve even started making plans for things we never thought we’d get to do.

Like a trip to the beach.

“Alright, baby,” Dean says, his voice rough with exhaustion but soft with love, as he reaches for one of the babies from the crib. “Let’s get you ready for your bath, huh?”

I watch him from the doorway, my heart swelling in my chest. His hands are steady as he lifts our daughter into his arms, cradling her with such care that I can hardly believe how far we’ve come. His touch is gentle, like he’s still learning how to be her dad, but he’s getting better every day.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are full of warmth. “You doing okay?”

I nod, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. Just taking it all in.”

Dean walks toward me, his steps slow and deliberate as he carries the baby. “You sure you’re okay? It’s been a lot, I know.”

I smile softly, feeling the weight of the words in my chest. “I’m better now. I just… I never thought I’d get to see this. Us. Together. Our girls.”

He stops in front of me, his free hand reaching out to touch my face. “Me neither,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But here we are.”

I lean into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to just feel. To feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the promise of a future we thought was lost.

Dean presses his lips to my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

I open my eyes and look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe him. I believe in us.

We’re a family now. And nothing—no matter what came before, no matter what might come next—could change that.

The sound of the babies gurgling softly in the other room pulls me back into the present. Dean looks toward the nursery, and we both share a quiet laugh. It’s a laugh that says we’re in this together, no matter what.

“We should probably get them fed,” I say, my voice light, teasing.

Dean smirks. “I’m on it. But you’re doing the diapers.”

I raise an eyebrow, mock-horrified. “Oh, so we’re trading roles now?”

“You bet,” Dean says, the grin on his face wide and full of that familiar cocky charm. “But you’re better at it. Trust me.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Alright, alright. I’ll take it this time.”

Dean chuckles, and as he walks away, I watch him with a softness in my chest. It’s a feeling I never thought I’d get to have again. Not after everything.

We’re here. We’re safe. And I know, deep down, that we’ll be okay. We’ll face whatever comes next together. As a family.

“Ready for this?” I ask as he turns back to look at me, baby in his arms.

Dean smiles. “Always.”

And with that, we walk into the next chapter of our lives. Together. No more demons. No more hunts. Just us and our girls, building a life we never thought we’d have.

And I know now, more than ever, that this is where I was meant to be.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 19

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings major character death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The bunker felt different tonight.

It wasn’t the kind of change that came from a hunt or some looming threat. No, this was something softer—something warm, something filled with quiet anticipation. The air was charged, but instead of fear, it carried excitement, nervous energy, and love.

Theresa was having her baby.

The contractions had started hours ago, slow and far apart, until they weren’t anymore. She had insisted she was fine, pacing through the war room, snapping at Sam when he hovered too much. But now, as she lay in the hastily prepared bed in one of the bunker’s spare rooms, her face glistening with sweat, she no longer fought our presence.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, gripping her hand tightly, his thumb brushing soft, soothing circles over her knuckles. I stood on the other side, one hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently every time she winced through another contraction. The room was dimly lit, and though exhaustion clung to every one of us, love filled the space so completely it left no room for anything else.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, his expression calm as ever, but his grace flickered softly, casting a golden glow over Theresa. He was keeping the pain at bay, letting her breathe, letting her hold onto this moment without being lost in agony. It was a gift only he could give, and for once, she didn’t argue about accepting help.

Sam whispered encouragements, his voice thick with emotion, and Theresa squeezed his hand back, her own trembling.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmured, brushing damp hair back from her forehead. She turned her head slightly toward me, her eyes glassy but full of determination.

Then, with one final push, the sound we’d all been waiting for filled the room.

A cry—sharp, piercing, alive.

Theresa let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sob, as Cas took the tiny, wriggling bundle and placed him against her chest. She wrapped her arms around him instantly, eyes wide with wonder. Sam let out something between a laugh and a cry of his own, pressing his forehead against hers, their son cradled between them.

“He’s perfect,” Theresa whispered, her voice cracking.

Sam nodded, unable to speak, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand.

Cas placed two fingers against Theresa’s temple, his eyes glowing softly for a brief moment before he stepped back, satisfied. “She’s in good health,” he confirmed, his voice gentle. Then, as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

I lingered for a moment, watching the way Sam looked at his son, the way Theresa held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Because he was.

Dean Robert John Winchester.

A name too big for such a tiny thing, but one that would carry him through life with all the love in the world.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away. This was their moment, their family.

But as I turned to leave, a weight settled in my chest, a quiet fear coiling deep in my stomach.

Theresa’s labor had been long, but Cas had helped ease her suffering. She had Sam by her side every step of the way, holding her, grounding her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

Would I have that? Or would I be alone, just like I had been through every doctor’s appointment, every moment of quiet fear when I felt the life inside me grow?

I swallowed hard and forced myself to move. I couldn’t afford to think about that now.

I slipped away quietly, my heart aching and full all at once.

…

I lay on my side in bed, my hand resting on the curve of my stomach. The room was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on the nightstand. Dean’s voice broke the silence, soft and steady.

“You know I’m gonna be here for you, right?”

I closed my eyes. The weight of it all pressed against my chest. In eight weeks, I would have two baby girls in my arms. Our girls.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. The thought of labor, of bringing them into this world, filled me with a quiet kind of fear. I had seen Theresa’s strength tonight, but I wasn’t sure if I had that in me.

A soft flutter beneath my palm reminded me I wasn’t alone.

Then, the air shifted.

I opened my eyes to see Cas standing at the foot of the bed. His presence was never loud, never intrusive, but it filled the space like something eternal. He stepped forward, his blue eyes settling on me with quiet concern.

Without asking, he placed his hand over my belly. Warmth spread from his touch, a gentle hum of energy coursing through me. I relaxed, feeling the tension ease from my body.

“They are healthy,” Cas said softly, his voice carrying an edge of something I couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe.

I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “Good.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to mine. “I do not know if they will be like you.”

My breath hitched. “You mean—part angel?”

Cas nodded. “I have never seen a Nephilim have children before. It is… uncertain.”

I pressed my lips together, my fingers tightening over the fabric of my shirt. “So, they might not have powers.”

“They might not,” Cas admitted. “Or they may.”

I let out a slow breath, my mind racing. The idea of passing on something I barely understood myself was terrifying. What if they grew up feeling different? What if they struggled like I had?

Cas studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “No matter what they are, they will be loved.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to respond.

Cas withdrew his hand, his expression unreadable. “You are strong, Y/N. Do not doubt that.”

Then, like always, he was gone.

I stared at the empty space he left behind, my fingers tracing absent patterns over my stomach. The twins kicked softly, as if responding to my thoughts.

Strong. I hoped he was right.

…

Days passed, and I watched Theresa and Sam adjust to life as parents. Their world had shifted, their focus narrowed to one tiny, perfect baby. Hunting, the darkness, the things that had once been at the forefront of our lives—all of it faded into the background.

They doted on baby Dean, passing him between them with soft murmurs and quiet laughter. Theresa barely let him out of her arms, and Sam watched them both like they were his entire world. They were at peace. Truly at peace.

And yet, all I could think about was if I was putting my girls in danger.

How would I juggle hunting and motherhood? Could I? At what point would I have to train them? When would I have to teach them about the monsters that lurked in the dark? Would we take turns hunting and looking after the kids? Would I even be able to leave them at all?

Doubt weighed on me heavier each day as my due date crept closer. I envied Sam and Theresa’s confidence, their ease in stepping into this new life. I wanted to feel that, but the fear never left me.

I was bringing my daughters into a world that had never been kind to people like us.

And I had no idea if I could protect them from it.

…

The day came faster than I thought it would.

I had been restless all night, shifting in bed, trying to get comfortable. Dean’s voice whispered comforts in the back of my mind, but it did nothing to ease the tightening that had begun low in my belly.

By morning, the pain was coming in waves.

I gripped the edge of the dresser, gasping through another contraction, sweat beading on my forehead.

“Dean,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Dean, please—please don’t leave me. Please—”

But there was only silence.

The ache of labor was nothing compared to the ache of his absence.

Sam found me moments later and called for Theresa. They helped me to the same room where she had given birth weeks before. It felt different now. Colder. Empty.

Cas arrived quietly, his grace wrapping around me, dulling the pain but not erasing the fear. I begged for Dean again and again between contractions, sobbing his name even as my body pushed through the agony.

I screamed when the first girl was born. Cried harder when the second followed minutes later.

Cas confirmed they were healthy. Perfect.

And then he was gone.

I held them close, two tiny bundles wrapped in blankets, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe.

They were here. My daughters.

But so was the grief.

So was the silence.

And I didn’t know how I was going to do it without him.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 18

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 2 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The drive back to the bunker was long, the silence stretching between us. Sam kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel a little too tight. Y/N sat next to me, curled up against the door, her breathing slow and steady. Every so often, I’d glance at her, just to make sure she was okay.

When we finally pulled into the bunker, the familiar sight of home comforting.

Bobby and Theresa were waiting for us.

The moment Y/N stepped inside, Theresa was there, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” she murmured, leading her away toward our room.

I nodded at Bobby. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a long, unreadable look before turning his attention to Sam.

I shook off the weird tension and headed to the kitchen. The place was quiet, the kind of quiet that sinks into your bones. I pulled open the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping the cap off with practiced ease.

Behind me, I heard Sam walk in. I didn’t turn around. “Where’d Bobby go?” I asked, taking a sip.

Silence.

I frowned, glancing over my shoulder. Sam was sitting on the couch, his head tilted back, eyes closed.

“Really?” I huffed. “You could’ve at least answered before passing out.”

No response.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the counter, letting the beer sit heavy in my hand. The quiet stretched on, and for some reason, it started to get to me. The bunker always had this hum of life, a steady undercurrent of sound. But right now? It felt… empty.

I exhaled sharply and downed the rest of my beer. “Alright, I’m calling it,” I muttered. “I’m beat. Gonna get some sleep.”

I pushed off the counter and made my way down the hall. As I passed by, Theresa stepped out of her room, her eyes flicking up briefly.

I gave her a nod. “Night.”

She didn’t react. Didn’t even glance at me. Just turned and walked away.

I frowned. “Okay, cool. Good talk.”

Shaking my head, I pushed open the door to my room, to find Y/N already curled up in bed.

I hesitated for a second before stepping inside, closing the door behind me. The silence pressed in again, heavier this time.

…

The days after the hunt passed in a strange sort of haze. Y/N kept herself busy, floating through the bunker like a ghost, avoiding eye contact, avoiding conversation. Avoiding me. I didn’t push, didn’t ask. Something inside me told me I didn’t want to hear the answer.

Then Castiel showed up.

I felt the shift in the air before I even saw him. That familiar rustle of wings, the kind that always managed to set me on edge. I stepped out of my room just in time to see Y/N standing in the hall, arms crossed tight over her chest, staring him down.

"Go away," she said, her voice clipped.

Cas frowned, tilting his head. "Y/N—"

"I don't want to talk to you right now." She turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the library without a second glance.

Cas lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable. He turned his gaze toward me, but I didn’t move, just leaned against the doorframe and took a slow sip of my beer. He hesitated, then let out a quiet sigh, nodded once, and vanished.

…

It was Bobby who finally suggested we take a break from hunting. We were a week out from Centerville and everyone had thrown themselves into the work instead of taking the time to check in with each other.

"Theresa’s pregnant, and none of you idjits are exactly in top shape after what happened in Centerville," he said, leveling us all with one of those no-nonsense looks of his. "Take some time off. Regroup. Get your heads straight."

Sam nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. Y/N sat across from him, eyes downcast, picking at the sleeve of her hoodie.

No one argued.

…

The weeks that followed were quiet. Too quiet.

Y/N spent a lot of time in the library, flipping through lore books she wasn’t really reading. She stayed in bed later than usual, went to bed earlier. At first, it was easy to chalk up to exhaustion, but then little things started adding up.

She barely touched her coffee anymore. Certain foods made her turn pale. It was like she was punishing herself. Denying herself her normal pleasures as some sort of punishment for what I wasn’t sure. All my attempts to help her seemed to fall flat. It was as if she was pretending I didn’t exist. I understand why she was mad but to stay mad this long? I wasn’t a pro at long term relationships but this didn’t seem right.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

I had to know for sure.

Leaving the bunker felt strange, like I was slipping away unnoticed even though no one had been paying much attention to me lately. Not that I wanted to be noticed. I got in the car and drove into town, my fingers tight on the wheel, my heart hammering against my ribs. The pharmacy was nearly empty when I walked in, my footsteps muted against the linoleum floors. I knew exactly what I was looking for, but I still hesitated before grabbing them—two, no, three boxes of pregnancy tests. Just in case.

The cashier didn’t say much, and I barely heard what little they did. I paid in cash, shoved the bag deep into my pocket, and walked out into the cool afternoon air. I needed somewhere private, somewhere no one would find me.

The park. It was quiet, tucked just off the main road. The public restroom was clean enough, and right now, that was all that mattered.

Locking myself in a stall, I took a deep breath and pulled the tests from the bag. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped one, but I forced myself to focus. One by one, I took them, lined them up along the edge of the sink, and waited.

Two minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, all at once, the results appeared.

Positive.

All of them.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened, and I pressed a hand to my mouth as hot tears welled in my eyes. I stumbled back against the wall, gripping my stomach with the other hand as if that could somehow steady me.

Pregnant.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this.

But it was.

And I had no idea what to do.

…

I didn’t tell anyone.

Instead, I hid it. I wore baggy clothes, trained less, avoided heavy lifting. I found a doctor, went to appointments alone, tucked every ultrasound photo away in a vent under the bed where no one would see. I made excuses when asked why I was hiding in the library so much and not training as much as I use to. I let Sam and Bobby believe I was still shaken from Centerville and needed to concentrate on the lore so I didn’t get caught out again. If they suspected anything, they didn’t say.

The bunker carried on as usual. Sam threw himself into research. Bobby checked in regularly. Theresa kept making lists of baby names and nursery ideas.

She had dozens of them, written in the neat, careful handwriting she always used when she was excited. She pored over books, websites, even old family records, scribbling down possibilities in a notebook she carried everywhere. Every few days, she’d cross out some and add more, her favorites changing constantly.

"What about something classic? Elizabeth, Katherine, maybe Charlotte?" she’d muse out loud. Then, the next day, she’d pivot. "Or maybe something unique! Juniper, Lark, Wren—something that stands out."

Sam indulged her, offering occasional input but mostly just smiling as she planned. She even started setting up a nursery in one of the spare rooms, painting the walls a soft green at first before deciding on a pale yellow instead. She rearranged the furniture over and over, never quite satisfied with where the crib should go. Every day, something was moved, adjusted, perfected.

And Dean—

I swallowed hard, pushing that thought away.

…

Theresa was the one who found out first.

It was late, and I’d just gotten out of the shower. Standing clad in tights and a bra I dug through my dresser for a clean shirt. The door swung open, and I barely had time to react before Theresa stepped inside, chattering about something—until she froze.

I turned, my heart hammering in my chest, my damp hair dripping down my back. Her gaze had zeroed in on the unmistakable curve of my belly.

"Oh my God," she whispered, eyes wide. "You're pregnant."

My breath caught. "Taz—"

"How long?" Her voice was softer now, laced with concern.

"Five months."

Her expression shifted, something between shock and heartbreak. "You’ve been hiding this for five months?"

I nodded, my throat tightening. "I… I didn’t know how to tell anyone."

For a long moment, she just stared at me. Then, finally, she let out a small, breathy laugh and stepped forward, pulling me into a hug.

"You idiot," she whispered. "You didn’t have to do this alone."

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping her back just as tightly.

Maybe I didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I sat cross-legged on the bed, the weight of Cas’s words pressing heavily on my chest. Dean was sitting across from me, his brows furrowed as he listened to me recount every detail of what the angel had said. I could barely look at him, afraid of how he might react.

When I finished, there was a long pause. Finally, Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, about the Nephilim thing... I already knew.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Cas told me a while ago,” he admitted, his voice low. “He thought I should know, in case it ever... came up. But I didn’t think it mattered. You’re still you, Y/N. Nephilim or not.”

I stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

Dean winced. “I figured it’d just freak you out, and you’ve had enough on your plate. I was gonna tell you eventually, I swear.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And the pregnancy thing?”

“That,” he said with a dry laugh, “I’m pretty sure is Cas being Gods good little soldier. He’d do anything that guy says. But if it’s really bugging you, we can grab a pregnancy test and settle it.”

I shook my head, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. “You’re probably right. It’s just Cas being... weird.” I hesitated before adding, “Let’s just forget about it for now.”

Dean nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Good call.”

I let myself lean back into the pillows, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but with Dean’s steady presence beside me, sleep eventually came.

…

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“Y/N! Dean! Wake up!” Theresa’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

Dean groaned, rolling over to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 10:30,” he grumbled. “What could possibly be so exciting at 10:30 in the morning?”

Before either of us could get out of bed, the door burst open, and Theresa stood there, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted, her grin so wide it could’ve lit up the room.

I blinked at her, the words taking a moment to sink in. Dean sat up straighter, his face a mix of shock and confusion.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.

Theresa nodded eagerly. “Yes! I just took the test. Sam and I are having a baby!”

The silence that followed was heavy but only lasted a beat before I broke into a wide smile. “Oh my god, Theresa! That’s amazing!”

I jumped out of bed, wrapping her in a tight hug as her excitement became infectious.

Dean sat there, still looking stunned. “Congrats,” he managed, his voice laced with a kind of bemused awe.

Theresa pulled back from the hug, her eyes bright with happy tears. “Thanks! I just had to tell you guys first!”

As she babbled on about telling Sam and their plans, I couldn’t help but glance back at Dean. His expression softened as his gaze met mine, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, things felt... good. Even with all the uncertainty hanging in the air, this moment was pure joy.

…

Theresa from the moment she told us hadn’t stopped talking about dragging me shopping to put together a gift for Sam to announce the pregnancy.

Theresa practically dragged me from one store to another, her excitement bubbling over as she picked up tiny baby clothes, soft booties, and pacifiers, holding each one up for my opinion. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if the topic of babies brought an unsettling knot to my stomach.

“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Theresa asked, holding up a pale-yellow onesie with little ducks on it.

“Adorable,” I replied, my voice light even though my thoughts were far from the conversation.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had a few small items in hand, ready to put together a gift to announce her pregnancy to Sam. Just before we were about to head out, Theresa suddenly stopped.

“Wait, I need to pop into the pharmacy,” she said, gripping her stomach lightly. “This morning sickness thing... I’m not sure ginger cookies and ginger ale are gonna cut it no matter what Google says.”

“Of course,” I said, following her inside.

While Theresa chatted with the pharmacist about options, I found myself wandering down the aisles. My feet carried me to the pregnancy test section before I even realized where I was.

The shelves were lined with boxes in bright colours, each claiming to be the most accurate. My hand hovered over one, my heart pounding. I glanced back to make sure Theresa was still preoccupied, then quickly grabbed a box and shoved it into my pocket.

“Ready to go?” Theresa asked cheerfully, appearing behind me with a small bag in her hand.

“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.

As we walked out, Theresa caught the scent of garlic bread wafting from a nearby restaurant. “Oh my god, we have to eat here,” she said, practically drooling.

I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”

We found a small table by the window and placed our orders. The knot in my stomach tightened as I excused myself to go to the restroom.

Inside the stall, my hands trembled as I opened the box. The instructions were simple enough, but my nerves made everything feel harder than it should have been.

Minutes later, I stared at the small screen, holding my breath.

Negative.

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong I had to sit for a moment to steady myself. I tucked the test into the little trash bin and washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

When I returned to the table, Theresa was happily munching on her garlic bread. “This is the best thing ever,” she declared, holding up a piece for emphasis.

I chuckled, sitting back down. “I take it we’re ordering more for the bunker?”

“Absolutely.”

As we ate, the conversation shifted to Sam’s gift. We brainstormed ways to wrap it, deciding on a small box with tissue paper and a handwritten note.

Theresa brought up pregnancy care, casually waving off the concern. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” she said, popping a piece of bread into her mouth.

I nodded, but her nonchalant attitude left me wondering. I made a mental note to look into options for her later.

By the time we left the restaurant, the heavy weight on my chest had eased. Theresa’s joy was infectious, for a moment I let myself believe that maybe just maybe Cas was wrong, that maybe he was just saying what God wanted him to.

Just as we were about to leave the restaurant my phone buzzed dragging me away from our conversation.

“Oh well looks like our plans are on hold” I sighed looking at the text “Dean messaged, apparently the holidays over”

…

 We sat around the war room table, maps and files spread out in front of us as Dean leaned back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers.

“Just got off the phone with Bobby,” Dean said. “He says there’s something weird going down in a little town called Centerville, Pennsylvania. Looks like a couple of demons are running the place, setting up some kind of... meatsuit recruitment drive. At least fourteen people have gone missing after passing through.”

I frowned, leaning forward to study the map of Centerville. “Fourteen? That’s a lot, even for demons. What’s Bobby think they’re planning?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s not sure. Could be they’re stockpiling bodies for something bigger, but whatever it is, we’re gonna shut it down.”

“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sam said, pulling out his notebook and jotting down a few details.

Dean turned to Theresa, his tone firm. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Theresa’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”

“He’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a meaningful look. “You should stay behind, and we’ll call Bobby to come hang out with you.”

Theresa’s confusion mirrored Sam’s as he glanced between us. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Theresa hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small gift box she’d carefully prepared on the way back from town. She slid it across the table toward Sam, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

Sam took the box, his brows furrowing as he opened it. Inside were the baby items we’d picked out: the tiny onesie, a pacifier, and a positive pregnancy test.

For a moment, he just stared, as if his brain needed an extra second to catch up. Then his face broke into a grin so wide it was almost comical. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.

Sam was out of his chair in a second, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, this is incredible!” he said, his voice full of unrestrained joy.

Theresa laughed, hugging him back. “I was gonna tell you last night, but the timing didn’t feel right.”

Dean cleared his throat, his expression softening as he watched the moment. “And that’s why you’re staying behind. No way we’re risking you and the baby out there with demons.”

Sam nodded quickly, turning to Theresa. “Dean’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

Theresa’s smile faltered. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“We know,” I said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. And Bobby will make sure nothing happens here while we’re gone.”

Theresa sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

Within the hour, the Impala was packed, and the three of us hit the road to Pennsylvania. As I settled into the seat beside Dean, I glanced back at Theresa, who stood in the doorway of the bunker, Sam’s arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

We had a job to do, but part of me already couldn’t wait to come back.

…

After what felt like an eternity on the road, we finally rolled into Centerville under the cover of darkness. The town had a strange vibe—quiet, too quiet for a place that had a growing reputation for disappearances.

“Motels are a no-go,” Dean said, scanning the town as we drove through. “Too many eyes.”

Sam pointed to a dilapidated house on the edge of town, its windows boarded up and the lawn overgrown. “That’ll work. Looks abandoned.”

Dean turned the Impala into the dirt driveway, parking beside a rusted shed attached to the house. We all piled out, stretching and shaking off the stiffness from the long drive.

“Hide her in there,” Dean said, nodding toward the shed.

Together, we pushed the Impala inside, closing the rickety doors behind us. The house itself was better than I’d expected, but not by much. The inside smelled like dust and decay, and the floorboards creaked with every step.

“It’s got charm,” I said dryly, earning a snort from Dean.

“We’ll make it work,” Sam said, tossing his bag onto what might have once been a couch. “Let’s head into town, see what we can dig up.”

We cleaned up quickly and headed out, walking toward the town center under the dim glow of streetlights. Centerville looked like any other small town, but something felt... off.

Our investigation eventually led us to a bar that seemed to be the social hub for visitors. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. A pool table sat in the corner, and a jukebox played a classic rock tune that barely drowned out the sound of clinking glasses.

We split up, each taking a different approach to questioning the locals. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, a wiry man with a skeptical gaze.

“Strangers roll through here often?” I asked casually, leaning on the bar.

He shrugged, wiping a glass. “Not much to see in Centerville. Most don’t stick around long.”

“What about the ones who do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”

“Just curious,” I said with a smile, trying to put him at ease.

Eventually, the bartender opened up. He and a couple of locals confirmed they’d seen the same couple hanging around the bar regularly—a man and a woman who had apparently blown into town about a year ago and never left. They’d made themselves at home, which was unusual in a town like this.

Dean joined me at the bar, a cold beer in his hand. “They sound like our demons,” he muttered under his breath.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sam said, appearing behind us. “But it’s definitely worth looking into.”

We stayed a little longer, gathering more details about the mysterious couple before heading back to the abandoned house. The pieces were starting to come together, but we still had more questions than answers.

…

The house was eerily quiet as we settled in for the night. The faint creak of the wind brushing against the boarded-up windows added to the atmosphere. Sam and Dean were in the small, makeshift living room, pouring over maps and the notes we’d scribbled down from the bar. I sat cross-legged on a tattered armchair, watching as they hashed out tomorrow’s plan.

“We need to figure out where they’ve been taking these people,” Sam said, tapping his pen against the map.

Dean grunted. “Yeah, but waltzing into their hideout isn’t exactly easy. They’ve been here a year. They know the lay of the land better than we do.”

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s why we need to split up. Y/N should approach them. Alone.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “No way. Not happening.”

Sam held up a hand. “Hear me out. They’ve been targeting strangers, right? Someone who seems like they don’t have ties. If Y/N plays the part of a solo traveler, it could get them to drop their guard.”

I stayed quiet, letting them argue. Dean’s protectiveness was nothing new, but this was different. His shoulders were tense, his voice edged with something more than frustration—it was fear.

“And what if it’s a trap?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.

“It’s always a trap, Dean,” I said, finally speaking up. “We’re hunters. That’s the job.”

Dean turned to me, his eyes softening but still filled with worry. “I don’t like this.”

“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.

Sam nodded. “We’ll be nearby the whole time. If anything happens, we’ll step in.”

Dean rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But the second anything feels off, you’re out. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

With the plan decided, we started preparing for the next day. I packed a small bag with essentials—my knife, a flask of holy water, and a few other tools of the trade. Dean handed me an emergency burner phone, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary.

“Use it the second something goes wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Promise,” I replied.

As the night wore on, we all settled into our makeshift sleeping arrangements. Dean and I took the slightly less destroyed bedroom, though the mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired. Sam claimed the couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the edge.

Lying next to Dean in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off him. His breathing was steady, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for him tonight.

“Dean,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand reached out, finding mine in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know”

…

The plan was in motion the moment I stepped into the bar. The air smelled of stale beer and desperation, a fitting backdrop for what I was about to do. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I took a seat at the counter, making sure to appear as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My eyes darted around briefly, taking in the patrons. I spotted Sam a few minutes later, casually perched at the opposite end of the bar, his head down like he was nursing a bad day. Dean, much to his displeasure, was waiting outside in the Impala, ready to spring into action.

The bar door creaked open, and in walked the couple. Even without seeing their eyes flash black, I knew. The energy around them was unmistakable—dark, predatory. They carried themselves with the confidence of predators circling their prey.

I felt their gazes lock onto me almost immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I picked up my drink and took a casual sip, pretending not to notice them as they approached.

The man slid onto the stool to my right, the woman to my left, effectively boxing me in. “Well, hey there,” the man said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent that made my skin crawl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

I turned my head slightly, giving him a small, shy smile. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The woman leaned in, her perfume almost choking me. “Passing through? Someone like you must have places to be, people to see.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just… trying to figure out where I’m going next.”

“Perfect,” the man said, his grin widening. “We might be able to help with that. You see, my partner and I—” he gestured to the woman with a nod “—work for a modeling agency. Talent scouts. And, well…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “You’ve got the look.”

My stomach churned, but I forced a surprised laugh. “Me? Modeling? I don’t know…”

The woman placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold despite the warmth of the bar. “You’ve got it, trust me. We’ve got a studio just outside town. Free shoot, no strings attached. Just to see if you’d be a good fit.”

I hesitated, playing my part. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” the man said, his tone dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Fresh faces. Untapped potential.”

I looked between them, feigning a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Alright. Why not?”

The woman clapped her hands together, her smile too wide. “Fantastic. Let’s head out.”

I glanced toward the exit briefly, knowing Dean was just outside, then picked up my bag and followed them out of the bar. As we walked to their car, I caught Sam’s reflection in the bar mirror. His jaw was tight, his fingers twitching, ready to act if needed.

The couple led me to a black sedan parked a few spaces away. The man opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.

I climbed in, clutching my bag tightly. The moment the door shut, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, and I forced myself to focus. This was just the beginning. Dean and Sam wouldn’t be far. Whatever came next, I wasn’t alone—even if I had to act like I was.

I sat in the back of the black sedan, watching as the town disappeared behind us. The ride was long, the demons making small talk, keeping up their act as professional talent scouts. I played along, feigning excitement and nervousness, while my mind stayed focused on the mission.

The farmhouse they took me to was beautiful, the kind of place that would make anyone believe this was a legitimate opportunity. Inside, they led me to a professional-looking studio, complete with backdrops, bright lights, and a rack of designer clothes.

For two hours, they ran the whole con—switching my outfits, styling my hair, touching up my makeup. They directed me through various poses, snapping pictures as if this was just another day in the life of a budding model. It was almost impressive how much effort they put into the charade. Almost.

At the end of it, they smiled, nodding approvingly.

“You’re perfect,” the woman cooed, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Absolutely,” the man agreed. “We’ll put you up for the night, and first thing in the morning, someone will take you to New York to sign the contracts.”

I widened my eyes in fake excitement. “Really? Oh my god, this is insane!”

The woman smiled. “I know. You’ll be a star.”

They led me to a cozy-looking bedroom, complete with a plush bed and a window overlooking the fields. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dropped the act.

I moved cautiously, making sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Dean and Sam.

Demons running a long con. Getting people out of town with the modeling scam. They plan to move me to NYC in the morning. No sign of the other victims yet. What’s the plan?

Dean’s reply was almost instant.

We’re pulling you out. Letting Bobby know their next stop. Sit tight. We’re coming.

I let out a slow breath. Good. I had no doubt they’d come for me, but still, something in my gut felt off.

…

Dean and Sam broke into the house as quietly as possible. The plan was simple—get in, take the demons by surprise, and get out before anyone knew what hit them.

But something went wrong.

I heard the scuffle from my room—the heavy thuds of bodies colliding, the crash of furniture breaking. My heart pounded as I cracked the door open just in time to see Sam wrestling the female demon, chanting an exorcism.

And then I saw Dean.

Or rather, I saw the way his body jerked unnaturally, his back arching as the male demon forced its way inside him. His green eyes flashed black.

My breath caught in my throat. “No.”

He turned his head slowly, those black eyes locking onto me with a cruel smirk. “Well, well,” the demon purred, rolling Dean’s shoulders like he was settling into a new suit. “This is… cozy.”

“Dean.” My voice shook. “I know you’re in there. You have to fight it.”

The demon laughed, stepping closer. “Oh sweetheart, he’s fighting all right. But he won’t win.”

Sam had finished his exorcism, the female demon shrieking as she burned away. Now he turned to me, panic in his eyes.

“Y/N, get back!”

But I couldn’t move. Not when Dean’s possessed body lunged at me.

I barely had time to react before I was pinned against his chest, held between Dean and Sam. Deans hunting knife was held to my throat. I was looking at Sam as tears pricked my eyes.

I gasped, clawing at his wrist, my heart hammering. “Dean,” I choked out. “Please… you can fight this.”

His grip faltered for the briefest second, his expression twisting in pain. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice broke through, hoarse and strained.

The demon snarled, trying to regain control, but I felt the flicker of resistance in Dean’s arms.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his whole body shaking as he fought the demon inside him. Then, with an agonized roar, his head snapped back, and a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from his mouth, disappearing through the nearest vent.

Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

I didn’t hesitate. I dropped down beside him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “I thought I was gonna lose you,” I sobbed, clutching onto him like he might disappear.

He exhaled shakily, his arms circling me just as tightly. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

…

Back at the abandoned house, we packed up in silence, the weight of the failed hunt pressing down on us.

Sam was on the phone with Bobby, explaining what had happened, his voice tight with frustration. “One got away… Yeah, we’ll head back to the bunker…can we talk about this later”

I sat in the Impala, my hands still trembling slightly. The reality of what had happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Dean had almost—

I shook my head, shutting the thought down. He was here. He was okay.

Dean slid into the backseat beside me, pulling me against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well. Watching you get possessed kinda does that to a girl.”

His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as the Impala rumbled to life.

The road stretched ahead of us, a long 17 hours back to the bunker. But for now, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that, at least for the moment, we were safe.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 16

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings MDNI 18+ unprotect p in v, oral F recieving

Authors Note: I'm terrible at writing 18+ content so sorry in advance.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

By the time I got back to the bunker, the plastic bags were digging into my hands, and my mind was still spinning from what Cas had said. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter.

The bunker was quiet as usual, save for the faint sound of metal clicking in the lounge room. I peeked in to see Dean sitting on the couch, a gun laid out in front of him as he cleaned it with practiced ease. His bandaged hand moved a little slower than usual, but he didn’t seem to care.

As I started unpacking the bags, I felt his eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard the soft scrape of the gun being set down on the table.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Dean asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

I froze for a moment, my hands still on a carton of eggs. “What do you mean?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. “I know that look. Something’s weighing on you. What happened?”

I sighed, abandoning the act. There was no point in trying to hide it from Dean—he could always see right through me. I turned to face him, leaning against the counter.

“Cas came to see me,” I said quietly.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from curiosity to something darker. “What did he say?”

I hesitated, but then the words came spilling out—the whole conversation, God’s so-called plan, and how we were apparently breaking it. By the time I finished, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, though I blinked them back.

Dean stood up, pacing a few steps before turning to face me, his green eyes sharp. “You can’t listen to a word Cas says about that crap. He’s been too close to God’s playbook for too long—he doesn’t get it. We’re not pawns, Y/N. Not you, not me.”

“But if we’re really screwing up some grand plan—”

“I don’t give a damn about his plan,” Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “I care about you. About us. Whatever comes at us, we’ll handle it. Together.”

I looked at him, his determination so unwavering that it made some of the tension in my chest ease.

Dean must have noticed, because his tone softened as he added, “Look, Sam and Theresa are out on their date night. Maybe we should have one too.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite myself. “A date night? In the bunker?”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, his usual cocky grin starting to appear. “I’ll grab some beers, we’ll put on a movie, and it’ll be just as good as anything those two are doing.”

I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a tray of ground beef. “How about we start with this? I make a killer burger.”

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, sweetheart, if your burgers are half as good as your chili, I’m sold.”

“Are you really still going on about my chilli all these months later?”

I laughed softly, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to make these every week.”

As I started pulling out spices and ingredients, Dean moved closer, grabbing a cutting board and a knife. “Alright, chef, tell me what to do.”

“Step one,” I teased. “Don’t get in my way.”

Dean chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a little while, the kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling meat and lighthearted banter, the weight of Cas’s words temporarily pushed aside. And for now, that was enough.

…

The smell of freshly cooked burgers filled the bunker as Dean and I settled on the couch, plates balanced on our laps. The Nightmare Before Christmas was playing on the TV, and I couldn’t help but hum along to the opening song between bites.

Christmas was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark of excitement. I glanced over at Dean, who was completely focused on his burger, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we should really do something for Christmas this year.”

Dean arched an eyebrow at me, chewing thoughtfully. “Like what?”

I grinned. “The whole shebang! Christmas shopping with Sam and Theresa, decorating the bunker, cooking a huge lunch—turkey, ham, roast veggies, all of it. Eggnog, gingerbread, maybe even one of those cheesy holiday movies Sam secretly loves.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheesy holiday movies, huh? Can’t wait to see Sam squirm through that.”

“Exactly!” I said, my excitement growing. “It could be fun, Dean. We’ve never really done Christmas right, you know? Not like this.”

Dean tilted his head, his smile softening as he watched me ramble on. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

“Not yet,” I admitted, taking another bite of my burger. “But I will. I was thinking about dragging Sam and Theresa out to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow. There’s gotta be a few stores still decked out with trees and lights. We could pick up some decorations for the bunker.”

Dean shook his head, his grin turning into a smirk. “Decorating the bunker? You do realize this place isn’t exactly a Hallmark set, right?”

“That’s the point,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “It needs some holiday magic. Imagine it—twinkling lights in the library, a tree in the corner, stockings hung up in the war room.”

Dean let out a small laugh, shaking his head again, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at me, his expression softer now. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“I am,” I admitted, glancing back at the TV as Jack Skellington started singing about Christmas Town. “I just think we deserve to have something nice, you know? After everything.”

Dean didn’t respond right away, and when I looked over, he was staring at me, his burger forgotten on his plate.

“What?” I asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low. “Just... you’re really something when you’re excited like this.”

My cheeks warmed, and I quickly turned back to the screen, trying to hide my smile.

Dean might not have been entirely convinced about the Christmas spirit, but I could tell he didn’t mind indulging me. And for now, that was enough.

…

The plates were abandoned on the coffee table, the remains of our impromptu dinner forgotten as Dean and I found ourselves tangled up in each other once more. His lips on mine, the warmth of his touch—it was all-consuming, electric.

Dean grabbed my hand and lead me to his room, the world outside the door fading away as we gave ourselves over to each other completely. He freed me from my clothes, allowing his hands to trace each inch of skin that was revealed to him. Once he had me completely nakes he pushed me gently onto his bed, hovering above me. He connected our lips in a hungry kiss, stealing my breath away. He kissed slowly from my neck down to my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth sucking and licking before moving on to the next. I bit down on my lip to keep from being loud.

“It’s just us here sweetheart no need to be quiet” Dean looked up at me like a man starved of touch.

He returned to my breasts earning a breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my nipple as he kissed in and moved on to kiss down my stomach. He reached the place I needed him most. He spread my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing them out to the sides opening me up in front of him. He licked his lips before placing a soft kiss on the sensitive bud waiting for his attention.

“If you want me to stop just say so” Dean looked up at me. I mustered up small nod before looking off to the side now embarrassed to be naked in front of Dean while he was still completely clothed.

Dean made himself comfortable between my legs before placing my legs over his shoulders. He licked one line up my folds causing me to shake and let out a small squeal mixed with a moan. He immediately went to work licking and sucking at my clit causing my back to arch. The moan that escaped my lips was nothing short of pornographic. Dean knew what he was doing with his tongue and mouth. And he knew it. I could feel the smirk that was plastered on his face. I could feel the heat building in my belly.

“D..Dean I’m going to…” The band tightening in my belly snapped before I could saying anything more. I could feel my legs shaking. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure wash over as Dean worked me through it.

Dean stood up and told me to move up the bed as he pulled his shirt off. I wriggled up the bed not taking my eyes of Dean, wanting to see every part of him. As he pulled down his pants his dick now free from its denim cage sprung up and smacked his stomach. I was far from a virgin but never had I seen a dick so long and thick as his. I was sure he was going to break me. Dean, however, quickly ruined the moment when he hit the ground with a crash as he tried to remove his boots. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. He gave me a cheesy grin from the floor as he got his boots and jeans off. Once he was completely stripped he climbed onto the bed taking his place in between my legs.

“Just remember if you want me to stop…”

“Just say so I know” I smiled up at him.

Dean dipped his head, capture my lips in a kiss full of love. While I was distracted by his lips he took the chance to sneak a hand between us and guide himself into me. The sudden stretch caused me to gasp, throwing my head back onto Deans pillows. Dean stilled once he was completely inside giving me a chance to adjust. But now being in this position I froze up. I think Dean could feel something was wrong. He leaned down and kissed me. The movement caused him to move inside me sending an intense feeling of pleasure ripping through me. I moaned into his mouth as he began to move. Slowly at first but soon he began to move faster. Soon he had my legs up over his shoulders as he found that one spot deep inside me that he hit with precision with each thrust of his hips. Before I knew it I was a babbling mess under his as my release hit me for the second time. Deans movements became sloppy and I felt his hips come to a stuttering holt as his own release washed over him.

 The way he held me, whispered my name like it was the only thing that mattered—it was as though all the tension, all the fear and doubt, had melted into something softer, something unbreakable.

Afterward, I lay against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily trailed up and down my arm, a comforting gesture that made me feel safe, grounded.

“Never thought we’d get here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Yeah, well... guess the universe finally got something right.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. “Let’s not jinx it.”

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Not a chance.”

Before long, the comforting rise and fall of his chest lulled me into sleep.

A sound startled me awake—a flutter of wings that sent my heart racing. My eyes flew open to see Castiel standing at the foot of the bed, his expression a mix of disappointment and worry.

“Cas,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with sleep. Dean didn’t stir beside me, and I turned to him in confusion.

“He won’t wake,” Cas said flatly, his gaze steady on me. “I’ve ensured it.”

My stomach twisted at his words. “What do you want?”

Cas stepped closer, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. And I’m scared.”

“Scared?” I echoed, sitting up carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t bear the thought of seeing my daughter or my granddaughters hurt,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

I froze, the words crashing over me like cold water. “Your what?”

Cas sighed, his usual stoicism faltering. “When you were born, you were dead. There was no life in you. Your parents prayed, begged for a miracle... and I answered. I gave you part of my grace to save you, Y/N. You are my daughter—a Nephilim.”

The world tilted on its axis, and I stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said. “I’m... I’m a Nephilim?”

“That is why you heal so quickly,” Cas explained, his tone measured but soft. “It’s also why God’s plans have been so... complicated where you and Dean are concerned.”

“But the granddaughters—”

“You’re pregnant,” Cas interrupted, his voice low. “With identical twin girls.”

My breath caught, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. “That’s not possible. I can’t—”

Cas held up a hand. “You can. And you are.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know what’s at stake,” Cas said, his tone firm now. “And because... I’ve said too much already.”

Before I could say another word, he vanished, leaving only the faint sound of wings in his wake.

“Cas?” Dean’s groggy voice broke the silence, and I turned to see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “I heard him. Where is he?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The weight of Cas’s revelations had left me rooted to the spot. Dean frowned, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I stared at him, wondering how I was supposed to tell him what I’d just learned.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 15

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings child emotional abuse, panic attack mentioned and described. The mentioned situation is based on my own personal experience with an abusive father and the resulting trauma I have dealt with because of it. I apologise if I trigger anyone.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I woke up in Dean’s bed, the sheets tangled around me. The room was still, bathed in the faint glow of the bedside lamp Dean must’ve left on. A glance at the clock told me it was barely 4 a.m. The bunker was silent, its usual hum somehow comforting.

The other side of the bed was empty, untouched, which wasn’t surprising. Memories of last night came flooding back, and I winced. I rubbed at my tired eyes and slid out of bed, pulling on a hoodie to chase off the chill in the air.

Wandering out into the hallway, I found myself in the lounge room. Dean was sprawled out on the couch, his head tilted at an awkward angle, his legs too long to fit comfortably. His hand, now wrapped in a haphazard bandage, rested on his chest. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, and he looked... exhausted.

My heart ached at the sight of him. I wanted to curl up beside him, let him hold me, but the fear from last night lingered. Instead, I backed away quietly and headed for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a granola bar. I leaned against the counter, nibbling at the snack while the weight of everything settled over me. The bunker felt so much bigger when it was this quiet, like the walls were pressing in on me.

Eventually, I wandered to the library. The familiar scent of old books calmed me as I browsed the shelves, running my fingers over the spines until I found a stack of hunters' journals. One caught my eye—its leather cover worn and cracked. I grabbed it, found a cozy armchair, and curled up with it.

Before I knew it, hours had passed. The journal had drawn me in, its pages filled with stories of hunts, danger, and survival. I hadn’t even noticed the time until Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“Y/N?”

I looked up to find him standing in the doorway, his expression cautious. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, his eyes heavy with guilt and worry.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know... I hate that I hurt you. If I’d known—if I’d understood—I never would’ve snapped at you.”

I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice to respond. He seemed to take it as permission to leave, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to go.

When he left, I sat there for a while, staring at the journal without really reading it. His words echoed in my mind, mixing with the lingering memories of his anger and the pain I knew he was carrying.

Finally, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. Dean was at the sink, awkwardly trying to clean his bandaged hand. He cursed under his breath when the wrap started to unravel.

“Here,” I said softly, stepping up beside him.

He froze, turning to look at me, his green eyes wide with surprise.

“Let me,” I murmured, taking his hand gently in mine.

I unwrapped the poorly done bandage and winced at the angry red marks on his knuckles. Grabbing the first aid kit from the counter, I cleaned the cuts carefully, my touch as light as possible. Dean didn’t say a word, but I felt his gaze on me the entire time.

Once I had his hand rewrapped, I finally broke the silence. “Dean... I love you,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “And I want to forgive you. But first, I need to know... what did Cas say to you?”

Dean stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, looking down at his freshly bandaged hand.

“Cas told me that God’s furious with us,” he said quietly. “He thinks we’re ruining his plans. And now... he’s decided that if we don’t stop, he’ll find a way to keep us apart. Even if it means killing one of us.”

My stomach dropped, and I felt my knees go weak. “Killing one of us?” I whispered.

Dean nodded, his eyes dark with pain and determination. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting him win. I’m not letting him take you from me.”

The conviction in his voice was enough to steady me, at least for now. I reached up, cupping his cheek with my hand. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Dean covered my hand with his, leaning into my touch. “Together,” he echoed.

After everything that had happened, I needed some air, some space to think without the weight of the bunker pressing down on me. I decided to head out to the local shops to grab groceries. It was a simple excuse to clear my head, but I needed it.

Dean had offered to come with me, his tone hesitant, almost pleading, but I shook my head. “I’ll be fine,” I’d said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He didn’t argue, just watched me leave with a look that made my chest ache.

The grocery store was quiet, the kind of stillness I usually found comforting. I wandered the aisles with a cart, tossing in staples: bread, milk, eggs. The normalcy of it was grounding, pulling me out of my own head, if only a little.

I was reaching for a can of soup when I heard it—the distinct flutter of wings that sent a chill down my spine.

Turning sharply, I found Castiel standing at the end of the aisle, his trench coat looking as rumpled as ever. His expression was serious, his blue eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place.

“Cas,” I said, my voice low but steady. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on mine. “I came to warn you, Y/N.”

“Warn me about what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“You need to leave Dean,” he said, his tone urgent but firm.

The words hit me like a slap, and anger flared in my chest. “Excuse me?”

“It’s for his own good,” Cas insisted. “For both of you.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice louder now. A couple of shoppers glanced at me before hurrying away, sensing the tension. “You don’t get to waltz in here and tell me to leave him. Not after everything.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone softening but still desperate. “God’s plan was never for you and Dean to be together.”

“Then what was his plan?” I demanded, my hands trembling with rage. “Why did he put me in Dean’s life if I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Cas hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You were meant to be something Dean could never have. A reminder of what he’d lose if he strayed from his path. Your presence was intended to keep him focused on hunting, on defeating the darkness. The anger and frustration of not being able to have you... that was meant to drive him, to help him defeat the devil.”

The words left me stunned, my mind reeling. “So I’m just... what? A tool? A pawn in some divine chess game?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Cas said, his voice almost apologetic. “It’s God’s plan. And now that you and Dean are together... you’re deviating from it. That deviation could have catastrophic consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Catastrophic for who? For God? For his ego?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Cas,” I cut him off, my voice trembling with both anger and pain. “I don’t care what God’s plan was. Dean and I—what we have—it’s real. And I’m not walking away from it because some self-righteous deity thinks he knows what’s best.”

Cas’s shoulders slumped further, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly. “For both your sakes.”

With that, the sound of wings filled the air again, and he was gone.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding and my hands gripping the cart so tightly my knuckles turned white. The fluorescent lights of the grocery store felt harsh, almost unreal.

After a long, shaky breath, I turned back to the shelves, tossing the can of soup into the cart. I wasn’t about to let God or Cas or anyone else decide my life for me. Dean and I would figure this out—together.

And if that meant defying God’s plan? So be it.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Master list

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20 Finale

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 14

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings child emotional abuse, panic attack mentioned and described. The mentioned situation is based on my own personal experience with an abusive father and the resulting trauma I have dealt with because of it. I apologise if I trigger anyone.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The road stretched out before us, the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine filling the silence as Dean drove. The morning had started with an unsettling quietness. Dean had showered, dressed, packed his bag, and headed to the car without a word. It wasn’t like him to be so distant, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him as the miles passed. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the road, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

In the backseat, Sam and Theresa exchanged worried looks. Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet too, his eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror to study his brother. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Dean,” Sam said gently, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been quiet all morning. What’s going on?”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine, Sammy,” he said curtly, his voice flat and distant.

“You don’t seem fine,” Theresa chimed in, her tone cautious. “If something’s bothering you, we can talk about it.”

Dean didn’t respond, his focus remaining firmly on the road.

“Dean—” Sam started again, but Dean cut him off sharply.

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge that made everyone in the car go silent.

I glanced at him, my heart sinking at the sight of the storm brewing behind his eyes. Whatever was eating at him, it was bad. I reached out tentatively, placing my hand lightly on his arm, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

The rest of the drive to the bunker was oppressively quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sam sat back in his seat, arms crossed, his concern evident even in his silence. Theresa stared out the window, her expression thoughtful but uneasy.

And Dean? He just kept driving, his knuckles white, his eyes hard, and his thoughts a million miles away.

The Impala pulled into the bunker’s garage with a low growl, and before the engine had even stopped completely, Dean was out of the car. The slam of the driver’s door echoed through the space as he stormed off, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete floor.

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at me with a mix of sympathy and apology. “Give him some time,” he said quietly. “Whatever’s eating at him, he’ll talk when he’s ready.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. Dean’s silence on the drive had been bad enough, but the anger radiating off him now was something else entirely.

“Come on,” Sam said, gesturing for me to follow. “I’ll show you to his room so you can put your stuff away.”

Dean’s room was small but surprisingly neat—though still distinctly Dean. The faint scent of leather and whiskey lingered, and the shelves were lined with books and trinkets he’d picked up over the years. I placed my bag on the bed, my fingers lingering on the worn fabric of his blanket, and tried to shake off the unease.

“Theresa’s already explored every inch of this place” Sam said, pulling me from my thoughts. “She’ll want to show you around.”

He was right. Theresa was waiting just outside the room, a cheerful smile on her face despite the tension hanging over the group. “Ready for the grand tour?” she asked.

I followed her through the bunker, trying to focus on her enthusiastic explanations. She showed me the library, where rows of dusty bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, and the garage, where the Impala now sat alongside other vehicles. She pointed out her and Sam’s room, the spare rooms, and the arsenal, where weapons of every kind were meticulously organized.

The lounge room had a couple of mismatched couches and a large table littered with papers and beer bottles, and the kitchen—well, that’s where I found him.

Dean was leaning against the counter, beer in hand, staring at nothing in particular. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was set in a hard line.

Theresa paused, sensing the shift in the air. “I’ll, uh, leave you two alone,” she said softly, backing out of the room.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. My heart ached at the sight of him like this, clearly battling something he wasn’t ready to share. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his back.

“Dean,” I said gently, my voice barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, without warning, he shoved my arms away and turned to face me, his eyes blazing.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, his voice rising with every word. “What’s wrong is that every time I turn around, there’s someone breathing down my neck! Asking me if I’m okay, if I’m fine, if I’m gonna talk about my damn feelings!”

I stepped back, startled by the sudden outburst. “Dean, I just—”

“You just what?” he snapped, cutting me off. “You think wrapping your arms around me is gonna fix whatever this is? You think you can just ask me what’s wrong and magically make it better?”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt my chest tighten. My voice cracked as I tried to reply. “I just wanted to help…”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. “Well, maybe I don’t want your help! Maybe I just need everyone to back the hell off!”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I took another step back, my legs trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

But I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up, and the fear creeping into my chest overwhelmed me. I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing down the hallway as I fled the kitchen.

Behind me, I thought I heard Dean call my name, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was far enough away that the lump in my throat started to ease and I could breathe again.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

As soon as I heard her footsteps retreating, I knew I’d screwed up—big time.

“Y/N!” I called after her, but there was no response. Just the echo of her running down the hall, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

“Dammit!” I growled, slamming my fist into the counter. Pain shot through my hand instantly, sharp and biting, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the guilt eating me alive. Blood welled up from my knuckles, and I swore under my breath, heading for the sink.

I turned on the cold water and shoved my hand under it, wincing as the sting hit me. The red swirled down the drain, but it didn’t take away the mess I’d just made. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t get the image of her face out of my head—the way she looked at me, scared out of her mind. I’d done that. I’d done that.

“You’re an idiot,” Theresa’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and unforgiving.

I didn’t even turn around right away. She was right. I was an idiot. “I know,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the water.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped, and I could feel her glare boring into my back. “If you did, you wouldn’t have just blown up at her like that.”

I finally turned, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” Theresa interrupted, her tone like a whip. “To scare her? To make her feel like she’s back in that house where every day was a screaming match?”

Her words hit me like a freight train. “What are you talking about?” I asked, though part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Theresa crossed her arms, staring me down like I was the biggest idiot on the planet. “Y/N grew up in a house where her parents screamed at each other all the time. And when her dad wasn’t yelling at her mom, he was yelling at her. Over nothing. Over stupid crap that wasn’t even her fault.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally, I managed, “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Theresa said, her voice softer now but still firm. “She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want anyone to know. But now, thanks to your little outburst, she’s probably somewhere having a full-blown panic attack, thinking she’s back in that hellhole.”

I closed my eyes, running my free hand over my face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I said quietly, my voice cracking more than I wanted it to.

“Well, you did,” Theresa shot back. “And it’s gonna take time for her to trust you again. You can’t just fix this by saying you’re sorry and hoping it’ll all blow over.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” I asked, my voice desperate.

Theresa sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. “You give her space, Dean. You let her breathe. And when she’s ready, you apologize the right way. No excuses, no ‘I didn’t mean to.’ Just own up to it.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My hand throbbed under the water, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except fixing this.

Theresa started to walk away but stopped at the door. “Dean, she cares about you. A lot. But you’ve gotta be careful with her. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not invincible.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady drip of blood swirling down the drain.

I stared at my busted hand, jaw tight as I made a silent promise: I’d fix this. No matter how long it took or what I had to do, I’d make it right.

…

Y/N's P.O.V

I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor in the library. My chest was tight, my breath coming in shallow gasps as sobs wracked my body. Desperate for some semblance of safety, I crawled under one of the large wooden tables and curled up, hugging my knees to my chest.

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the echoes of Dean’s voice in my head—loud, sharp, and angry. Every word cut deeper than the last, dredging up memories I tried so hard to bury.

I didn’t even notice Sam until I saw his boots beside the table. Slowly, he crouched down and settled onto the floor, keeping a careful distance.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing, like he was afraid to startle me. “I saw you run, and I... I heard what Dean said.”

I buried my face against my knees, too ashamed and overwhelmed to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam continued, his voice full of sincerity. “For whatever’s going on with Dean, for what he said to you. He’s an idiot sometimes, and he doesn’t know how to handle his own crap, let alone anyone else’s.”

His words made me cry harder, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to do. After a moment, I felt his hand brush against my shoulder, but I flinched instinctively, shrinking back further into the shadows under the table.

Sam pulled his hand back immediately, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave you alone. Just... come find me if you need anything, okay?”

“No,” I croaked, my voice shaky and barely audible. “Please... don’t leave me.”

He froze for a second, then nodded, even though I wasn’t looking at him. “Okay,” he said softly. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Sam stayed there, sitting silently on the floor beside me. He didn’t say another word, didn’t try to touch me again. He just waited, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Eventually, the sobs slowed, and my breathing evened out. Exhaustion pulled me under, and I drifted into a restless sleep, still tucked under the table like a scared child.

…

Sam’s P.O.V

Y/N’s hiccupping sobs had finally quieted. Her breathing was steady now, the tear-streaked tension on her face replaced by exhaustion. She’d fallen asleep, curled up under the table like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

Careful not to wake her, I reached under and gently scooped her into my arms. She was lighter than I expected, and the way she shifted against me made my chest ache. Whatever Dean had said—or done—had clearly hit her harder than I realized.

I carried her through the dimly lit halls of the bunker, moving as quietly as I could. When I rounded a corner, I stopped short. Dean was standing there, leaning against the wall, his hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage. His eyes widened when he saw me holding Y/N.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

I glared at him, keeping my voice low. “She ran, Dean. She ran and cried herself to sleep under a damn table because of you.”

His face crumpled, guilt washing over him. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Doesn’t matter what you meant,” I shot back, though my tone softened at the sight of his obvious regret. “You need to fix this.”

Dean stepped forward, holding out his arms. “I’ll take her.”

I hesitated, my protective instincts flaring. “Don’t wake her up, Dean. She’s had enough for one day.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice low and solemn.

After a moment, I handed her over. Dean cradled her carefully, like she was something fragile, and I watched as he carried her toward their room.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

Holding her in my arms felt like both a privilege and a punishment. She was so quiet, her face still streaked with dried tears, and I hated myself for putting her through this.

I walked into our room, pushing the door open with my foot. The bed was still unmade from earlier, and I laid her down as gently as I could. She stirred for a moment, a soft whimper escaping her lips, before curling into a tight ball on her side.

It broke me.

I stood there, staring at her for what felt like forever. Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to sit beside her and tell her how sorry I was, to make her believe it. But I knew better. She needed space, and right now, I was the last person she needed around.

With a heavy heart, I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and left the room, closing the door behind me.

The lounge room couch was cold and uncomfortable, but I didn’t deserve anything better. Not tonight. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, her quiet whimper echoed in my mind, and I made a silent vow to myself.

Whatever it took, I’d make this right.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Night had settled, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Dean and I lay tangled together in his bed, the dim light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of leather and gun oil mingled with the faint crispness of the night air wafting through the open window.

Dean was propped up on one elbow, his other arm draped casually across my waist. His fingers idly traced patterns on my hip as we talked about the plan for the next day. Sam had found another hunt—something about a possible poltergeist in Kansas—and we’d decided to hit the road first thing in the morning.

“Back to business as usual, huh?” I murmured, my voice low to match the stillness of the night.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, except now I’ve got you riding shotgun and no excuses to pretend I don’t want you there.”

I chuckled softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Better not make me regret it, Winchester.”

His hand paused for a moment, then he tipped his head down to kiss my forehead. “Not a chance.”

The quiet that followed was comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. I was just about to close my eyes when the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings filled the room.

Dean and I both sat bolt upright, and there, at the foot of the bed, stood Castiel. His piercing blue eyes flicked between us, and his brow furrowed deeply, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with what could only be described as confusion—and maybe a hint of disapproval.

“You’re in the same bed,” Castiel said, his tone blunt and unfiltered, as always. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Cas, seriously? You ever heard of knocking? Or I don’t know, not teleporting into people’s bedrooms?”

Castiel ignored him, his gaze fixed on me now, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’ve been speaking with God,” he said gravely, “and He is… displeased.”

That got Dean’s attention. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up, his voice laced with irritation. “Displeased about what, exactly?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, his trench coat rustling as he crossed his arms. “You and Y/N,” he said simply. “You are disrupting His plans.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up. “Disrupting His plans? What does that even mean?”

Cas took a step closer, his expression more serious than usual. “God’s plan for you, Dean, and for you, Y/N, did not involve this... union.” He gestured vaguely at the bed, as though the sight of us there was evidence enough. “Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that God’s got a problem with me finally being happy? That’s rich, Cas. Real rich.”

“It’s not about happiness,” Cas replied, his tone more urgent now. “It’s about purpose. Your paths were meant to remain parallel, not intersect.”

Dean scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, squaring off with the angel. “Yeah, well, maybe God’s plans suck, Cas. Ever think of that? Maybe we’re done playing by His rules.”

Cas tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “You would defy God’s will for this?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he glanced back at me before answering. “For her? Yeah, I would.”

The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood up beside him, crossing my arms as I faced Cas. “If we’re ruining God’s plans, maybe it’s because they weren’t the right ones to begin with.”

Cas regarded us both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a rare and almost human sound. “You’re treading dangerous ground,” he warned. “God does not take kindly to deviations.”

Dean stepped closer, his voice firm. “Tell Him we’re not His puppets. If He’s got a problem, He knows where to find me.”

Cas looked at him, then at me, a flicker of something—doubt? Worry?—crossing his face. Without another word, he disappeared in a rustle of wings, leaving us standing there in the quiet room.

Dean turned to me, his hand finding mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Are you?”

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Cas can tell God whatever he wants. You and me? That’s the plan I’m sticking to.”

I smiled despite the lingering unease. Whatever storm was brewing, we’d face it together.

The next morning, the Impala roared to life, the familiar rumble filling the air as we hit the road toward Kansas. Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his movements effortless as he navigated the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Sam was in the backseat, a stack of papers balanced on his lap as he rattled off details about the case. “Any family that moves in moves back out again within about a month—objects moving on their own, cold spots, and what sounds like footsteps in the attic. A couple of classic poltergeist markers. No deaths so far.”

Theresa leaned against the window, arms crossed, nodding along. “And you’re sure it’s not just residual energy? Last time, we wasted a whole day on what turned out to be a faulty HVAC system.”

Sam shot her a look. “Pretty sure. There’s also been some whispering voices and a mirror shattering. That’s not exactly a draft.”

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing scenery, barely listening. Castiel’s words from the night before kept echoing in my mind: Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design. I tried to push it away, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Dean’s voice pulled me out of my spiral. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I blinked, glancing over at him. His green eyes flicked from the road to me, concern etched into his expression. He’d always had a way of seeing right through me, even when I tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been quiet. And not the good kind of quiet—like, something’s on your mind kind of quiet.”

Theresa leaned forward slightly from the back, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve been zoning out since we left Bobby’s. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Sam and Theresa before looking at Dean. “It’s nothing,” I said finally, but my voice lacked conviction.

Dean’s hand shifted on the wheel, his knuckles brushing against mine in a brief but grounding touch. “If it’s nothing, why are you chewing on it like it’s gonna bite back?”

Sam sighed from the back, folding the papers in his hands. “This about Castiel?” Dean asked.

I tensed, and Dean’s jaw tightened. “Cas? What about him?” Sam asked.

I exhaled, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s just… what he said last night. About us messing up God’s plans.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, God’s plans haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows, have they? You think I care what He thinks about us?”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it’s not that simple, Dean. What if—”

Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “No. There’s no ‘what if.’ You and me? That’s not up for debate. Not for God, not for Cas, not for anyone.”

Theresa leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not exactly Team God either, but maybe there’s something to it. If Cas thinks it’s important enough to show up, it’s worth considering.”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah, well, considering doesn’t mean worrying yourself sick over it. Cas said his piece, and we said ours. End of story.”

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I get where you’re coming from, Y/N. But Dean’s right—God’s plans haven’t exactly worked out for us in the past. Maybe it’s time we make our own.”

I looked out the window again, the Kansas plains stretching endlessly before us. Dean’s hand reached over, resting briefly on my knee.

“You’re with me, right?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. “Always.”

He smiled, and for a moment, the weight of Castiel’s words seemed lighter. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t facing it alone.

The motel room was as bland as they came—beige walls, worn-out carpet, and a bed that creaked if you so much as breathed wrong. But after a long day of nothing but mold inspections and realizing the supposed "haunting" was a total bust, it felt like a luxury. The air still carried a faint scent of bleach from when housekeeping had gone over the room earlier, but at least it was clean.

Sam and Theresa had decided to make the most of the free evening, heading out to a local diner that Sam had claimed made "the best pie in Kansas." Dean had scoffed at the idea of any pie being better than the ones at a certain diner three states over, but he didn’t argue when Sam handed him the room key and said they’d be back later.

Dean and I had opted to stay in, the lure of a quiet night too tempting after the day’s events. Now, we were curled up in bed, the flickering glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Dean had one arm around me, his other hand resting lazily on the remote as he channel-surfed through a lineup of mostly forgettable shows.

“Is it just me,” he murmured, “or is TV getting worse?”

I mumbled something incoherent in response, half-asleep against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing, combined with the low hum of the TV, had lulled me into a state of complete relaxation. My hand rested lightly on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Dean glanced down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re not gonna weigh in on the great TV debate, huh?”

I didn’t answer, already lost to sleep. Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my shoulder as he turned his attention back to the screen. Some old western was playing, the kind with over-the-top gunfights and dramatic music. It wasn’t exactly gripping, but it was enough to keep him entertained.

The room was peaceful, the kind of quiet that rarely came in our line of work. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling the rare comfort of contentment as he listened to my soft, even breathing.

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

Dean’s entire body tensed as the fluttering noise filled the room, disrupting the calm like a ripple through still water. He glanced down at me, relieved to see I was still fast asleep, before his eyes darted toward the foot of the bed.

And there he was—Castiel, standing stiffly in his trench coat, his blue eyes locked on Dean with the same intensity they always carried.

Dean sighed heavily, careful not to wake me as he shifted to sit up straighter. “Really, Cas? You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Dean to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that might have been disapproval. “I have news,” he said simply, his voice as gravelly and direct as ever.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before looking back at the angel. “Can it wait? She’s finally sleeping.”

Cas didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his full attention back to Dean. “No. It cannot wait.”

Dean sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Of course it can’t.”

The TV droned on in the background, the light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room as the scene faded into silence, leaving only the weight of whatever news Castiel had brought hanging in the air.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 12

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night, I found myself in Dean's bed. After finishing my bath and changing into my pajamas, I made my way down the hall to his room. He was lying sprawled out across the bed, relaxed in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Taking a steadying breath, I lay down beside him, feeling a little out of my element but strangely comfortable.

Dean wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly weaving through my hair. I found myself inching closer, resting my head on his chest, my hand splayed over his stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathed. Just as I started drifting off, I felt the soft rumble of his laughter under my cheek.

“This is freakin’ weird,” he murmured, half amused, half uncertain.

I yawned, my own voice drowsy. “Tell me about it.”

A silence settled over us, but it was comfortable—almost warm, even with the lingering strangeness of sharing a bed. He shifted, pulling me a little closer, and his breath brushed against my hair.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it,” he said softly, almost to himself.

There was something in his voice, a hesitance or a quiet vulnerability that surprised me. Dean wasn’t usually the type to dwell on emotions or look too closely at things that made him uncomfortable. I wanted to ask what he meant, but his fingers resumed their soft, steady rhythm through my hair, and I found myself sinking further into the quiet safety of his embrace.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

The next morning Dean and I were up and pacing at the hatch waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Sam, Theresa and Bobby had stopped answering our calls weeks ago. Hell, I was convinced we could be dead and they probably wouldn’t come checking on us. The creaking of the hatch sent both of us running to be the first one at the hatch.

Sam stood on the other side of the hatch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You two done yet? Or do I need to leave you in there another week?"

Dean glanced at me, a mix of frustration and reluctance clear in his eyes. He’d never been good at talking about feelings, and being forced into it? That was a nightmare. I felt his hand twitch slightly, the tiniest hint of tension under his cool exterior.

“We’ve dealt with it, okay?” Dean called out, his voice taking on that half-annoyed, half-pleading tone he used when he was trying not to lose it. “Just open the damn door.”

Sam’s skeptical laugh filtered through the small space. “I’m not buying it, Dean. You’ve been dancing around this for months, man. What makes you think I’ll believe you after a couple of weeks stuck together?”

I sighed, stepping closer to the hatch. "Sam, it’s not about the time we’ve been locked up. We talked. We... figured some things out." I glanced at Dean, who gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We know where we stand now."

Sam's footsteps moved closer, and his voice dropped lower, more serious. "And where’s that?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside me, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, alright? You can let us out now."

"Yeah?" Sam’s voice was filled with suspicion. "So, what’s the plan then? Gonna keep pretending nothing happened, or have you two finally admitted you’re crazy about each other?"

I blushed at Sam’s bluntness, but before I could respond, Dean stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "We’re done pretending, Sam. Now, can you let us out or do I have to kick this door down?"

A long pause followed. I could practically hear Sam’s wheels turning as he debated whether we were telling the truth or if this was just another one of Dean’s deflections.

Then, finally, the sound of keys rattling echoed through the hatch.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. "But if I find out you’re still avoiding this… next time, I’m locking you in for a year."

The hatch creaked open, and the sunlight streamed in, hitting us both like a slap to the face. Dean shot me a sideways look, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"See?" he muttered, nudging me lightly. "Told you we’d get out."

I smiled back, rolling my eyes but feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. Maybe we weren’t entirely done figuring things out, but one thing was for sure—we weren’t pretending anymore.

As we stepped through the door, the sudden brightness of the outdoors made me squint, but Dean’s hand in mine kept me grounded. His grip was firm—steady. For all the tension and frustration that had built up over the days, that simple touch felt like an anchor.

We looked around, expecting to see Bobby or even Theresa. But to our surprise, it was just Sam, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching us with that annoyingly knowing expression.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s everyone else?”

Sam shrugged, pushing off from the car. "Just me here. Bobby and Theresa are waiting back at his place. Figured they’d leave me to deal with you two first.”

Dean huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Of course they did." He gave me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, then started toward the Impala, pulling me along with him.

“You sure this isn’t some other test, Sammy? Locking us up wasn’t enough for you?” Dean teased, though his voice had a sharp edge to it.

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in the car, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean let go of my hand long enough to open the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing mine again as I slid into the seat. There was a certain comfort in the familiar scent of the leather, the faint smell of gun oil and coffee that always clung to Dean’s car. It felt like slipping back into something safe, even though we both knew things between us had shifted. Maybe for the better, maybe not, but we’d figure it out.

Dean climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Sam, of course, got in the backseat like it was his right to act all high and mighty.

As Dean started the engine, the low, familiar rumble of the Impala washed over me, sending a shiver of nostalgia down my spine. It was almost as if nothing had changed—except, this time, Dean’s hand found mine again, even as he steered the car down the gravel road.

Sam didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered to our joined hands, but he didn’t say anything. Just smirked that knowing smirk of his.

The ride to Bobby’s was quiet. I could feel the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the way he gripped the wheel a little too tightly. Maybe it was because we were driving back into reality, back to where things were messy and complicated. We’d had time in the house to confront some things, but the real world? That was another story.

After what felt like an eternity, the Impala pulled into Bobby’s driveway. The old house stood like a sentinel, the weight of all the memories, good and bad, hanging in the air. Theresa’s car was parked off to the side next to my Impala which one of them had clearly driven here, and I could already see her and Bobby waiting on the porch.

Dean cut the engine and exhaled slowly, his fingers still intertwined with mine. He glanced at me, his expression a mix of reluctance and resolve. "Ready for round two?" he asked quietly, though his voice had a teasing edge.

I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "As long as you are."

Dean’s mouth curved into a smirk, and he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before we climbed out of the car. Sam was already out, walking toward the porch where Bobby and Theresa stood waiting, arms crossed, looking like they had their own set of questions ready to go.

Whatever came next, Dean and I were in this together now. And maybe, just maybe, we could handle whatever round two had in store.

As soon as we stepped out of the Impala, Bobby and Theresa descended on us like we’d walked straight into an interrogation room.

Bobby’s gaze was sharp, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the porch, his eyes flicking from me to Dean and back again. Theresa, standing beside him, had her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable but clearly sceptical.

“Alright,” Bobby started, his voice gruff but laced with that tone that let you know he wasn’t buying any crap. “You two better not think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been let out. Sam might’ve let you out, but I need to hear it from you.”

Dean gave me a quick side-eye before stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Theresa cut in, arms dropping to her sides as she took a step closer. “Are you really done pretending? Or is this just some act to get out of that house?”

I could feel the weight of their stares. Dean had tensed up beside me, his jaw clenched, clearly not in the mood for another round of questions, but we had to deal with this.

“We’ve worked it out,” I said, speaking up before Dean could snap back with some sarcastic comment. “We’re not just playing along. We know it probably seems like that after all this, but it’s… different now.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Different how? You’ve been avoiding this for years, and now all of a sudden, a few days locked up together, and you’ve figured it all out? I ain’t buying it.”

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re not saying everything’s magically perfect, Bobby. It’s not. But we’re done running from it. Done pretending like there’s nothing going on."

Theresa folded her arms, her expression softening just a bit as she tilted her head at me. “And you? Are you done pretending? Because this only works if you’re both all in.”

I felt Dean’s hand brush mine again, a small, subtle reassurance as I looked from him to Theresa. “Yeah, I’m done pretending. We both are. It wasn’t easy, but we talked. And we’re going to keep talking. We know where we stand now.”

Theresa studied us for a long moment, her eyes lingering on our joined hands. “You better,” she finally said, her voice gentler but still firm. “Because if I find out you’re back to ignoring each other, I’ll lock you both up myself. And believe me, it won’t be as nice as Sam’s version.”

“If I had my way all you would have gotten was a blanket on the floor and a pot to piss in” Bobby grunted in agreement, stepping forward with his no-nonsense look firmly in place. “You got a lot of history between you. I ain’t saying you gotta figure it all out today, but you better not go back to pretending none of this exists.”

Dean nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’re not going back to that. We’ll deal with it—together.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift in the air, like Bobby and Theresa were finally starting to believe us, even if only a little.

Theresa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides as she exchanged a look with Bobby. “Alright,” she said, her tone a little warmer now. “We’ll hold you to that. Just… don’t mess this up.”

Dean smirked, a bit of his usual confidence sneaking back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby shook his head, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he muttered, “Well, let’s hope you’re telling the truth this time, or I’ll find a way to make sure you never leave each other’s sight.”

Dean squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that we were both ready for whatever came next. We weren’t done dealing with everything between us, but for the first time in a long time, we were on the same page. And that was enough—for now.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 11

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.6k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

For 6 weeks we avoided each other. Only leaving our rooms to get something to eat or drink. Groceries where dropped off on a weekly basis, Dean was always waiting by the hatch when the drop off happened. I would sit by the top of the stair case to listen in to the brief conversation that took place, it was always the same. “Are you going to let us out yet?”

“Have you worked it out yet?”

“Fat chance of that happening”

“Then no”

For the next 2 weeks I tried to talk to Dean. Clearly waiting them out wasn’t going to work and honestly at this point I would rather be honest about how I felt and risk rejection then keep playing this game. At least this way I could tell Theresa I had tried. Surely they couldn’t keep me here if Dean was the one not playing by their rules.

My first attempted at talking to Dean was when our weekly delivery came. I waited for him to make his way down stairs then I followed behind him. Once the groceries had been delivered the hatch closed I tried to talk.

“Dean I don’t think waiting them out is working” I mentally slapped myself for pointing out the obvious.

“Clearly but we don’t have a better plan” Dean didn’t even look at me as he picked up all 8 bags of groceries in one go heading to the kitchen.

“We could talk it out like adults” I sighed.

“Hate to tell you sister but I have 10 years on you and a whole lot more life experience then you, you’re barely an adult” Dean still refused to look at me dumping all 8 bags on the counter top.

“9 years and I’ve been an adult at longer then you think”

“9 years” Dean rolled his eyes and walked off.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To my room”

My second attempt, third and fourth attempts where all met with eye rolls as Dean walked away from me. It was becoming clear that the only way Dean was going to have a conversation with me is if he was trapped with no escape. Dean had made it a habit of going for a shower at the same time every night. He wouldn’t risk leaving the shower if he knew I was in the room. Or at least I hoped so. I had smuggled a butter knife back to my room one night after I had made myself dinner. I had then waited patiently for Dean to have his dinner and went to test the butter knife on the lock of the bathroom door. As I had hoped the butter knife was the perfect thickness to help me turn the lock on the door. I hid it in my room and waited for him to head to the shower. That night however Dean didn’t go for his shower as normal. He ate and went back to his room. I gave him an extra half an hour just in case he was busy with something for had forgotten. But when I heard the light switch in his room, I had guessed he had gone to bed. I wandered out into the hallway just to make sure he had gone to bed. The light that was normally visible under Deans door was off. Making plans to try again the next night I ducked back into my room long enough to grab my towel before heading to the bathroom myself. I dropped my towel on the bench before running a bath. I was exhausted from days of trying to talk to Dean. Not physically exhausted but emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was a nice long hot soak in the tub. Once the tub was full, I stripped down and submerged myself in the water. I took a face washer and submerged it in the hot water before laying it over my face. I took a deep breath, laid back and let myself relax.

“You’re looking pretty comfortable there” Deans sudden presence startled me.

“DEAN WHAT THE HELL!” I screamed grabbing the shower curtain dragging it in front of the bathtub to cover me.

“I’m sorry where you not trying to do this exact same thing to me?” Dean chuckled closing the toilet seat cover to take a seat on it.

“Well yes but only to get you to talk to me” I squealed.

“So talk”

“I…uh…I…”

“Oh so now you can’t talk” Dean chuckled again “Look it’s clear this avoiding each other plan isn’t working”

“And what do you suggest we do now?” I raised an eyebrow while looking at the shower curtain now hanging between us.

“I honestly don’t know” Dean let out an awkward chuckle “For once in my life I don’t actually have a plan”

“We could always try being honest”

The room fell silent. I watched the droplets of water slowly falling from the tap waiting, internally pleading for Dean to break the silence.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his silhouette rubbing the back of his neck. His silhouette looking away, then back to me. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, the urge to argue or deflect swimming just beneath the surface. But instead, he surprised me.

"Being honest?" he echoed, as if testing out the words. "You really think that could work? I mean... after everything?"

I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to look away. "We’ve tried everything else, haven’t we? What do we have to lose?"

Dean let out a breath, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of everything we’d been carrying was pressing down harder than ever. The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier. I glanced at the tap again, watching the droplets hang in the air before they fell, one by one.

Finally, he stood up, pacing the small, dimly lit room. "You don’t just be honest” he muttered. "That’s not how it works."

"It might not," I admitted. "But pretending we’ve got it all under control isn’t working either. We’re running out of moves, Dean. This could be the only one left."

He stopped pacing, staring at me. The room was filled with a mixture of frustration and fear. “What if…What if we tell the truth and it just... makes everything worse?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t let myself fully think about that possibility. But now that it was out there, spoken aloud, it hung in the air between us like a dark cloud.

“Then we deal with it,” I said, my voice steady despite the doubt creeping into my chest. “At least we won’t be running anymore.” I whispered the last part.

Dean turned away from me, staring out the window again. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his back visibly tensing under his shirt.

"You’re really ready to do this?" he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I thought about everything we’d been through, all the lies, the half-truths, the fear that followed us wherever we went.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I’m ready.”

Dean nodded, his back still to me. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we do it.”

He turned back to face me, his expression hardened with resolve. “But if this goes south…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. We both knew what was at stake.

Dean stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breath. The tension between us thickened as the silence stretched on. I was about to say something—to break the spell that had settled between us—but before I could, Dean crossed the room in a single, swift movement.

Before I could respond he had moved the curtain out of the way. His hands gripped my arms, not harshly, but with a firmness that caught me off guard. “If this goes south…” he started again, but his words faltered. His gaze, intense and searching, locked onto mine, and in that split second, I could see the conflict, the hesitation, and the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, without another word, Dean pulled me into him, his lips crashing against mine. The world seemed to blur at the edges, all the tension and fear melting away in the heat of that moment. His kiss was desperate, almost like it was the last lifeline he had left. It was raw, full of all the things he couldn't say out loud—the fear, the uncertainty, and something deeper I hadn't expected.

For a second, I froze, my mind racing to catch up with what was happening. But then, instinct took over, and I found myself kissing him back, my hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. The world outside didn’t matter anymore—the looming threats, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All I could think about was the way his hands held me, like he needed this as much as I did.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, and I could see it in his eyes—he was as terrified as I was. Not just of what we were about to do, but of what this moment meant.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. He let go of me, stepping back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Don’t apologize.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I could see the uncertainty in his expression, the conflict still brewing beneath the surface. This was new for both of us, and neither of us knew what to do with it.

For a long moment, he just stood there, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. But despite everything—the danger we were facing, the uncertainty of the future—I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, we were finally being honest.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 10

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none unless you count cranky asshole Dean.

Authors Note: Just wanted to let you all know this story will be roughly 20 parts and I already have the ending. I know many people will hate the ending but for now, the ending I have planned feels perfect.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I’d been upstairs for what felt like hours, my senses on high alert. The EMF reader was silent, offering no clues about the supposed haunting. Just as I was about to give up, I heard a door slam shut downstairs, followed by muffled voices. Curiosity piqued, I crept towards the staircase, careful not to make a sound.

Peeking over the railing, I saw nothing unusual. But then, a frantic scramble echoed from below. Footsteps pounded towards the front door, followed by a series of violent shakes. As I strained to see what was happening, a familiar pair of worn jeans and scuffed brown boots came into view. It was Dean.

Heart pounding, I considered my options. The window was too small, and I doubted I could make it without breaking my neck. Before I could decide, the stairs creaked beneath my weight. My blood ran cold as Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Oh, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Dean? What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the pounding in my chest.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" he countered, his steps growing closer.

I crossed my arms, attempting to look intimidating. "Johnny sent me over to take care of a case," I lied through gritted teeth.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think there’s a case here," Dean said, pointing dramatically at the front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confusion and fear swirling inside me.

I jogged down the stairs, pushing past Dean. My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled with the front door handle. It didn’t budge. Not even a centimetre. Panic started to creep in as I realized I was trapped. I raced to the back door, desperation fuelling my movements. It was locked too, solid as a bank vault.

A wave of dread washed over me as I circled the house, my eyes scanning every window. My worst fears were confirmed. Freshly installed metal bars blocked every escape route. I was trapped.

The sound of breaking glass echoed from the lounge room. I hesitated, fear and anger battling within me. Slowly, cautiously, I peeked around the corner. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his face a mask of fury as he stared at his shattered phone.

"All the windows are barred, and I'm guessing the doors are reinforced," I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan.

Dean rubbed his face, his frustration evident. "Yeah, apparently until we figure our shit out, we're stuck here," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice rising in irritation.

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation and walked further into the house. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to call Theresa. Being trapped here with Dean was one thing, but being trapped here with angry Dean was another.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t even think about asking. Sam’s not letting you out,” Theresa giggled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do in here?” I groaned, frustration lacing my voice.

“Figure things out with Dean. The guy’s crazy about you and you feel the same. Just stop being stubborn and admit it,” she insisted.

“Yeah, right,” I retorted, cutting her off before she could continue.

I let out a heavy sigh and trudged up the stairs in search of Dean. Maybe we could fool everyone into thinking we were burying the hatchet. That might speed up our escape. What did they want from us anyway? Friendship? Something more? I had no clue. I found Dean in one of the upstairs bedrooms, his frustration evident as he yanked at the iron bars on the window.

"I thought we already ruled that out,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Dean exploded, his voice echoing through the room as he yanked at the bars, "Well, do you have a better idea, genius?" I stumbled backward into the hallway.

"Okay, hear me out," I offered, trying to calm him down. "They want us to get along, right? So let's fake it. Put on a show, tell them everything's peachy, and then make our escape."

He paused, his anger slowly subsiding. "Bobby and Sam know me too well. They'd see right through us."

I shrugged, "I don't know, Dean. We're clearly not gonna be best friends, so they're wasting their time."

Dean stared at me for a moment before nodding. "Maybe you're right. They can't keep us here forever. We just have to wait it out."

"Perfect. Pick a room. Just make sure it's on the other side of the house," I replied, turning and walking away.

I retreated to the far end of the house and shut myself in a room. Collapsing onto the bed, I realized I was in for a long haul. Now that I had a moment to look around, something was off. The room was spotless, almost sterile. The furniture was new, or at least very recently used, and the bedding was fresh. How had I missed this before? I’d been so focused on the case and getting out that I’d ignored the obvious.

A loud bang downstairs startled me. I leapt off the bed and raced into the hallway. Dean was emerging from the opposite end, presumably claiming that room as his own. Our eyes met as we both made a beeline for the stairs. Our bags were sitting by the front door. No sound of entry. How had they gotten inside? Dean joined me in examining the door and surrounding walls, his curiosity as piqued as mine.

"See that gap around the wall?" Dean pointed to a small, almost imperceptible indent. "Looks like a hidden door to me." He leaned into the wall, exerting all his weight. Nothing. He stepped back and tried ramming his shoulder into it, but the wall held firm.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bag, and retreated to my room. With the door closed, I rummaged through my belongings, searching for the pocketknife I always kept hidden. My heart sank when I realized it was gone. Someone had been through our bags. Panic set in as I remembered Dean's shirt, a piece I'd stolen months ago. That was a huge mistake.

I needed out, and I needed out now. They'd secured the windows and doors, but surely they hadn't reinforced the walls. If I was going to escape, I'd have to cut through. First, I had to check the kitchen without Dean seeing me. They had to have left us at least a couple of knives.

I found Dean in the lounge room, feverishly attacking the wall with a mismatched collection of utensils. I sighed, casually opening drawers. Two steak knives were exactly what I needed. I slipped them into my waistband and grabbed a soda as a cover.

Back in my room, I moved the chest of drawers to reveal a section of wall. With trembling hands, I began to cut. Hours later, as dawn approached, I'd finally breached the interior wall. Relief washed over me until I saw the solid metal sheet beyond. Disappointment and exhaustion crashed down on me. I covered the hole, dragged myself to bed, and clung to Dean's shirt for comfort.

…

Deans p.o.v.

I spent hours trying to break through the small door, but I knew, I knew Bobby would have made this house escape-proof. The man knew what he was doing, and he sure as hell knew me well enough to anticipate that I would do anything to break out. There was no way either of us was getting out of here unless Bobby and Sam got what they wanted. I sighed and tossed aside the knife I had been using to try and pry the door open. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I dropped into one of the armchairs and glared at the door, hoping my growing anger would somehow make it open. I inwardly chuckled, thinking about Sam and his demon blood. Bet this place wouldn’t hold him, I thought. Finishing my beer, I headed up to bed. There was no point in continuing to break out today. I could try again tomorrow.

When I woke, it was almost 10 a.m. It was different not having Sammy smacking my foot or his and Theresa's laughter as they entered the room with coffee and breakfast to wake me up. I sat on the side of the bed and rubbed my face. The house was quiet. I made my way to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards and fridge to make a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I got two cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs ready before heading back upstairs to check on Y/N and let her know breakfast was ready.

I opened the door to the room she’d been hiding in to find her passed out on the bed, still dressed from the day before. She had something hugged tightly to her chest. I crept quietly towards the bed, not wanting to wake her. As I pulled the object slightly out of her arms, a familiar logo caught my eye. I chuckled and tucked the shirt back into her arms. Moving back over to the door, I banged on it. Y/N jolted awake at the sound and looked up at me in shock, trying to push the shirt under her.

“Breakfast is ready, sleeping beauty,” I chuckled before walking off down the hall.

…

Your P.O.V

As soon as Dean was out of sight, I grabbed the shirt and stuffed it back in my bag, cursing under my breath. I hoped he hadn’t recognized the shirt, or we’d be in for an awkward conversation. I made my way slowly and quietly down the stairs into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me. Taking a seat at the table across from Dean, I saw him with a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, giving me a goofy grin while munching away. I had to fight everything inside myself to not smile back. I had fought so hard over the last few months to put everything I felt for Dean behind me, and I was determined to keep it there. I was going to make sure Bobby and Sam’s plan failed.

Dean and I ate in silence. When our plates were empty, I collected them and took them to the sink to wash. Dean stayed at the table, clearly wanting to say something but looking like he didn’t know how to start. Just as he seemed ready to speak, a voice called out from the window.

“Dean? Are you in there?”

“Cas? Man, am I glad to hear your voice.” Dean rushed over to the window. “Get in here and zap us out.”

I walked over to another nearby window to see who this Cas was. Standing in the yard just outside the house was a man in a trench coat. He looked to be about Dean's height with dark brown hair and stubble. He honestly didn’t look like someone Dean should know, and what kind of name was Cas anyway?

“I can’t get inside, Dean. Something is stopping me.” Cas looked over at me. “It’s good to see you again.” He said the last part while looking directly at me. Again? What did he mean, again?

“Do I know you?” I asked, surprised.

“You probably don’t remember me; I am the angel Castiel,” he said, his face showing no emotion.

“Yeah, introductions later. Bobby and Sam have us locked in here in some twisted attempt to make us get along,” Dean said. “And if you can’t get in, it means they put up wards.” Dean looked around the walls.

“Wards? Do you mean the drawings on the walls?” I let slip before I could stop myself.

“You’ve been in the walls?” Dean looked at me, confused.

“Kinda tried to cut my way out,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, embarrassed.

“Show me.”

I led Dean back upstairs into the room and pointed to the chest of drawers. Dean moved the drawers in one swift movement, making it look effortless. It was impressive, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Dean looked into the hole and cursed.

“Angel proofing. Dammit, Bobby, you’re good,” Dean cursed, storming back downstairs. I had to run to keep up. He went back to the window where Castiel was still waiting.

“Sorry, Cas. The place is angel-proof,” Dean sighed, resting his head against the bars.

“Maybe I could speak to Bobby and Sam?” Castiel offered.

“It’s no good. They won’t let us out until we do what they want,” Dean said, turning to me with a look of anger, like this was somehow all my fault. I glared right back at him and stormed back upstairs to hide in my room.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 9

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.8k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mention of murder and murder-suicide no details though.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A dusty roadhouse in the middle of nowhere Australia

“Bobby, I’m tellin’ you she’s got a death wish, mate” Johnny spoke into his phone.

“I’m not sure how you expect me to help with that Johnny” Bobby grumbled back “Owning to the fact that I’m in the US and all”.

“Look all I know is ever since those hunters of yours where here she’s been going after every evil thing by herself, she’s refusing help from everyone, and I’m worried she’s going to come up against something she can’t handle on her own”.

“Yeah, Deans been the same way Sam said” Bobby sighed “The idijit wiped out a whole Vamps nest on his own a month back, refused to let Sam anywhere near it”.

“She called this morning asking for another case but I have nothing left, I don’t have time to track down leads either” Johnny scratched his chin.

“I think we need an intervention” Bobby twisted the lid off a bottle of whiskey pouring himself a drink “Give me a couple of days to talk to Sam and I’ll get back to you”

…

I paced up and down the hallway of an abandoned house I had broken into 5 days prior. I had been searching for a hunt almost ever since. The hunt I had come here for was a complete bust, just some dumb humans breaking into people’s homes and pretending to be werewolves. Johnny had no hunts for me, I couldn’t find anything worth pursuing and the longer I went without a hunt the more I thought about Dean. Even with the man out of the country I still couldn’t get him out of my head. It was like he had a hold over me that I couldn’t escape. My pacing was interrupted by my phone ringing. I quickly ripped my phone out of my pocket.

“Johnny tell me you got something for me”

“Hay y/n yeah I got something but you’re not going to like it” Johnny sighed

“A hunts, a hunt”

“Yeah, but this ones in the US…” Johnny trailed off “But hay its big place, right?”

“Right, what am I looking at?” I tried to ignore the US part.

“Bobby’s sending me the information now, how far are you from here?”

“Two days drive if I leave now” I said heading to my car.

“I should have the info by then, so are you taking the case?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah might as well” I shrugged.

“Great I’ll also get all the paperwork you need ready” Johnny sounded like he was shuffling paper around.

“See you in 2 days”

I hung up on Johnny and jumped into my car.

…

“Did she take the bait?” Bobby asked answering on almost the first ring.

“Yeah she did, she’s on her way here, all her paperwork’s ready to go” Johnny smirked.

“Great, Sam and I found a place, we’re just making it escape proof” Bobby said “Now we just need to get them both inside without the other one knowing”.

“And that’s your problem, I’m getting her there my parts done” Johnny chuckled.

…

I made the 2-day trip in a day and a half. I travelled mostly at night and stuck to back roads so I could floor it and the cops wouldn’t know. By the time I made it to Johnnys roadhouse I was exhausted and in need of sleep. Something I promised myself I could do once I was on the plane. Once I parked the car I basically ran into the roadhouse. All I wanted was to get started on this case as soon as possible. I let the door slam behind me announcing my arrival to Johnny. He looked at me from behind the bar and just chuckled.

“When do I leave?” I asked taking a seat at the bar.

“You can be on a flight out tonight if you want to take the case” Johnny slid a file across the bar as me.

The case seemed like a standard salt and burn. Vengeful spirit, haunting a long-abandoned house. Teens and adrenaline junkies had broken in to explore the place only to end up as the latest murder-suicide to happen in the property. Looks like the spirit was a former owner who was killed on the property and his body never found.

“How do they know he died on the property?” I asked looking up at Johnny.

“Well Bobby said…”

“Bobby?” I cut him off “Bobby wants me to work this case?”.

“Well yeah after the Winchesters failed to find the body, he thought you were the next best bet” Johnny shrugged.

“I’m not working with the Winchesters” I stood up to leave.

“No, no their gone, they’ve gone to hunt down a Wendigo somewhere in Arizona”.

“Fine so long as they’re not there I’m in” I dropped the folder back on the bar.

Johnny smiled at me and handed me another folder. It had a plane ticket, and all the documents I would need to get over there.

“Now I know you love your car, but I’ve organized a car for you when you get there, info’s in that folder” Johnny pointed at the folder in my hand. “I’ve also organised a friend to pick up your car from the airport to keep it safe”

I nodded and walked back out of the roadhouse. I jumped back in my car and headed the for the airport. The sooner I got on the plane the sooner I could sleep, the sooner I sleep the sooner I reach the US, the sooner I get to the US the sooner I can finish this case and get the hell out of dodge.

…

Deans P.O.V

 “So, this case Bobby sent us what exactly did he say?” I asked Sam who was looking at a map.

“Honestly not much, abandoned house, the owner was apparently murdered in the house by the locals back in 1880, they hid his body in the house. 2 years ago the house was sold and the new owners started renovations this apparently angered the spirit because he started murdering anyone that entered his house” Sam said without looking away from his map.

“So basically, we have a missing body and a mad as hell ghost” I looked at Sam in confusion.

“That about covers it” Sam sighed folding up the map. “Its 3 days drive”.

“Alrighty then” I nodded, tapping the steering wheel. “I don’t understand why you needed to come along though; you could have stayed at the Bunker”.

“Because your spiralling Dean and I’m scared your going to do something stupid” Sam looked at me pulling his signature bitch face “You can’t keep going at it alone dude, you need to let me in”.

“I’m fine Sammy” I groan rolling my eyes.

Sam went to say something else but I turned the music and ignored him. This was about to be the longest 3 day drive we’ve ever done.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I made the airport in great time. I checked in and headed for the food court. I still had 2 hours before I would be seated on the flight so I figured I might as well get something to eat and go to the toilet before I boarded the flight that way I could just pass out once I was in my seat. Being at the airport however was making me panic. All I could think about was how in the few hours I would be back in the same country as Dean and that just meant I had more chances of running into him. And being distracted when I had to deal with a hunt was the last thing I needed. I had even cut off my best friend to be free of this man and yet I still let him have some hold over me. Nope just shake it off, concentrate on the case.

…

Dean’s P.O.V.

Sam had fallen asleep hours ago. I was tired but I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get to this hunt. Who knows maybe then I could hit up a bar and have a little fun. Nothing better to end a hunt with then an ice-cold beer. Yet ever since being in Australia, being around her, it gave me a feeling of guilt. I don’t know why it’s not like we were a thing, its not like I was betraying her in anyway. Its been 6 months I have no reason to even think about her anymore. I know Theresa’s hurt that her best friend won’t talk to her anymore but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. Does it?

I shook my head put her to the back of my thoughts and tried to think about this case. It was weird that Bobby sent us a case when the mans been yelling at me to take it easy. It must be important to stop this thing if he was sending us. I took the map from Sams lap and checked to make sure we were still headed the right way. The house seemed to be in the middle of nowhere which was a little weird for a house wracking up a body count then again with the number of kids looking for a cheap thrill and a haunted place to film to put online it’s not surprising that people have ended up wandering into the place. I looked out the review mirror revved the engine and turned up the music.

…

As I thought the 3-day drive felt like a 3-month drive. I managed to break some of it up by getting Sammy to drive while I slept. I was woken by Sam who had pulled us up behind an almost normal looking house. It was a little worn down, enough to look creepy but not enough to say it was abandoned. But if it was as Bobby had said and someone brought the place and started doing it up then it makes sense that the place was less abandoned looking. We climbed out of the impala and walked towards the house. I opened up the door and stepped inside some sort of dinning room/kitchen area. Before I could do or say anything the door behind me slammed shut. I spun around on my heels to hear the door lock.

“Sam what the hell?!” I yelled through the door.

“It’s for your own good Dean” Bobby’s voice rang through the door.

“Bobby? Why are you doing this?” I slammed my fist on the door.

“You need to man up and solve your problems” Bobby said.

I could hear the click of a padlock from the other side of the door. I cursed under my breath. And turned back into the house and headed for the front door, hoping they hadn’t locked it yet. I grabbed the handle and began to forcefully jiggle it. Locked. I heard the stairs creaked behind me. I spun around and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Oh son of a bitch”.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”.