#Dean Winchester also because i can so easily fall back into loving him without a second thought

[clairenovakz]

unrequited (dean winchester x reader)

pairing: dean x reader warnings: pure angst, parental death, canon-typical violence, but fluff at the end summary: after dean rejects your feelings for him, you start to lose part of yourself. when he realizes how far you’re gone, he’ll do anything to get you back. word count: 5.6k a/n: this is set in season 5, although it largely ignores the canon timeline because i can’t be bothered to make it all match up. this is my first real time writing dean so i hope you enjoy it!! as always, i love feedback. and also as always, my requests are open!!

“Y/N.”

You could barely hear Sam over the sound of the bar, gaze fixed on the bartender. People walked past your booth, talking loudly over the soft sound of some random country music, but somehow none of it could pry your attention away. Dean was leaning over the bar, apparently telling a very interesting story to the bartender, who was closer to him than you would have liked. His flannel sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms, giving you a rather enticing view.

“Y/N, are you listening?”

You snapped your head towards your friend. Sam was sitting across from you, clinking his beer bottle against yours. He looked tired; the apocalypse was looming over the three of you, and your new angel friend had been running you all ragged trying to press you all to stop it. Sometimes it didn’t feel right to have normalcy.

But even as the devil hunted Sam and the world was in danger of falling to pieces, you and the Winchesters would always find yourselves back in a bar, staying in shitty motel after shitty motel because it was just what you did. You don’t think you would have wanted it any other way.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You respond sheepishly, trying to give Sam your full attention.

“Y’know, you’re gonna have to face this eventually.” Sam quirked an eyebrow at you.

The two of you had a stare-off before you slammed your head into the table, groaning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam. And sure I do.” He flicked the top of your head. “You have a massive crush on my brother, right?”

You flung your head back up and smacked his arm. “Speak louder, would you?!”

Sam laughed at you. “You know you could do a million times better, right?”

You frowned. Sam didn’t know how wrong he was. You didn’t think you could ever get better than Dean, although you knew Sam was just messing with you. Dean was so hopelessly selfless, it made you mad just thinking about it. Even after all this time, he carried himself with a grace you couldn’t understand. If you’d been at this whole apocalypse thing alone, or without him, you think you might have kicked the can by now.

“Whatever, I think I’m gonna go back.” Your mouth became a straight line as you pushed your beer towards Sam. “You can finish my beer.”

“Hey, you sure?” Sam looked genuinely concerned now. “Don’t let him get to you, seriously.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “See you later, dude.”

You grabbed your jacket and swung it over your shoulders, deciding to say goodbye to Dean before you stepped out. The bartender was so close to him, her long blonde hair was brushing his shoulder. He looked so young, somehow, smiling at her with a twinkle in his eye. You weren’t sure if you could recall him looking at you like that.

“Hey, Dean.” You brushed a hand ever-so-gently on his back. “I’m heading out. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dean turned then, his eyes meeting yours easily. “Aw, sweetheart, gonna ditch my brother already?” He smirked.

You groaned internally. “You know, you ditched him first.” 

He shrugged. “Whatever. See you later.” He turned away without a second thought, fully jumping into the conversation with the bartender again.

That stung. You stepped away quickly into the night air, hugging your jacket closer to you as you walked to your car. God, how stupid was this? You’d been pining for him since high school, and it seemed to be a well-known fact to everyone except him. There were moments you thought he might feel the same - but then again, he was the same flirty asshole with every person you’d met. It was killing you slowly to watch him distance himself from you, especially now. 

You got in your car and sat behind the wheel for a minute, trying to regain your composure. You wouldn’t let a man get to you. In the silence of your thoughts, you failed to notice the sound of flapping wings next to you until it was too late.

“Y/N.”

You screamed, honking the car horn briefly and flinging yourself back. Next to you was Castiel, apparent angel of the Lord, having materialized out of thin air.

“Jesus Christ.”

He cocked his head at you. “No, I’m Castiel.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s- nevermind.” You sucked in a breath. “What do you need, Cas? Sam and Dean are in the bar if you want to talk to them.”

Cas regarded you for a moment. “I know. But I wanted to talk to you.”

“Um… why?”

“You seem troubled.”

This perplexed you. “Uh, thanks, Cas. But I’m good, okay? No offense, but I don’t really want to talk about my problems with you.”

Cas squinted at you. “I know these times have been dark. There is an air of hopelessness that surrounds you and the Winchesters.” He paused, thinking.

You grimaced. “Jeez, okay, I mean, we’re trying our best.”

“No, what I mean to say is…” He held your gaze, not unkindly. “I just wanted to tell you, Y/N, that although it seems like Sam and Dean are the center players, you still have a part yet to play. And you shouldn’t lose hope quite yet. Not about anything.”

He seemed to be alluding to something much greater than you could understand. You just nodded, unsure how to respond. He nodded back, then cleared his throat.

“I should go. Think about what I said.” Without another word, Cas disappeared in a flurry of wings, and you were left alone.

“Hm.” You hummed, not sure what to make of the interaction. Cas was a friend, or at least, you felt he could be one. You weren’t sure what he really wanted, or what he meant. But you thought of your pressing feelings for Dean, and what he said about hope.

Maybe it meant something after all.

– 

“Fuck, I love pancakes.” 

Dean was eating like a pig, diving into a stack of pancakes he had absolutely smothered in syrup. You stared at him with a mixture of awe and disgust. He never failed to amuse you, even though this was an almost everyday occurrence. You stared down at your eggs and bacon, hoping that breakfast would stir some confidence in you.

“You okay, Y/N?” Dean paused to look at you, mouth full of sweet pancake. You stifled a laugh as syrup ran down his chin, and he rolled his eyes at you as he wiped his mouth. “I know our coworker can be annoying, but it’s not every day you ask to get breakfast with just me.”

You thought about your “coworker” Sam who was probably busy researching another case right now, even as you had just finished the last one. Either that, or trying to find something to kill the devil, which was still feeling as fruitless as it had before.

“Yeah, um, I guess I wanted to talk to you about something.” You said quite seriously, heart pounding in your chest.

“Shoot.” Dean had finally finished eating, face clean of crumbs and syrup. You looked into those gorgeous green eyes of his and wondered if this was really worth it. 

“I’m just gonna say it straight,” You pressed your lips together. “I have feelings for you, Dean.”

Dean stared at you for a moment, frozen. You could see he was processing. “What?”

“Like, romantic feelings.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you. “You been day drinkin’ or something?”

It was 11AM. “Dean, no, be serious.” You frowned. “Look, I know this might be coming off as sudden, but I just really wanted to tell you. And you can say whatever you want to me about it, but… I guess I just wanted to lay my cards out.”

Dean sighed heavily, his somewhat silly expression dropping. He gazed out the window a moment. “I… know.”

“You… know what?”

“I mean, I knew already. That you had feelings for me.”

This time, it was your turn to freeze. Your tongue turned to sandpaper. “What?”

Dean couldn’t seem to look at you. “I just never felt the same way, so I didn’t want to lead you on. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You pushed your plate away from you, and reached into your wallet to drop a 20 on the table. You knew you should say something, but this hurt way more than expected. You didn’t know how to react to this with anything other than embarrassment. This whole time? He knew? 

“Y/N, wait-” 

“I’m gonna go check on Sam, okay?” Your voice sounded warbled and strange, and you realized that it was because you were holding back tears. “Let’s just pretend this conversation didn’t happen. I’ll see you back at the motel.”

“Y/N-”

You were gone before he could get another word out. Outside, it was just a brisk walk back to the motel, opting to avoid the Impala so you could be alone. So much for hope. You felt like an idiot now, thinking back on all the times you and Dean had moments you thought might be more. This whole time he knew, and he had been desperately trying to get you to stay away from him. Maybe you’d just walk off a cliff.

Okay, you wouldn’t do that. But there was a burning feeling in your chest, and it didn’t alleviate by the time you walked into the motel room. Predictably, Sam was on his laptop, squinting at some article. As soon as he saw you, he shut the screen and turned his attention to you, noticing your shakiness.

“Woah, woah, Y/N, what’s wrong?” Sam stood up to approach you.

You turned away from him quickly, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to rapidly fall down your face. “Nothing! I’m okay!” You quickly entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“Y/N, seriously, what’s going on?” Sam was behind the door, and you could tell he was leaning on it to hear you. The worried inflection in his voice didn’t escape you.

“Nothing, seriously, okay?” You grabbed a washcloth and put your face in it, your shoulders shaking. “Just g-give me a minute.” You internally cursed yourself, trying to hold it together.

Sam didn’t respond, but you didn’t feel his presence leave the door. You quietly sniffled, reining in your tears as you choked back on your own spit. Fuck. You ran the washcloth under some hot water, pressing it to your face gently to wipe the nastiness away. After a few minutes, when you faced yourself in the mirror, you looked somewhat close to normal, although you knew in your heart you would never be the same again.

Quietly, you opened the door to see Sam standing by the doorframe, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong?” He said, softly.

“Sam.” You said, pushing him away, although he resisted. “Leave it be. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

As soon as you said that, Dean came through the door. Your eyes didn’t leave Sam’s face, but Sam turned, looking at his brother to see a slightly distressed expression. Something seemed to click internally, and he stood in front of you to shield you from his brother.

A silence fell over the three of you. You were sure Dean was going to bring it up again, and force you to talk. You knew that awkward tension between you two wasn’t going to stand. 

“Ready to hit the road?” Dean asked. You sucked in a sharp breath.

Guess you were wrong about Dean after all.

–

It was the fall of your sophomore year of high school. Your parents had dumped you with Bobby, again, alongside John Winchester’s kids. The three of you got along well enough, but you weren’t really friends. Dean was a year ahead of you, in his junior year, and Sam was still in middle school. In the mornings, Dean drove the three of you, dropping his younger brother off at the middle school before bringing you both to the local high school. In that short period of time where you were alone, you often didn’t talk, opting to listen to whatever heavy metal band he had put on.

You’d been in and out of different schools your whole life. Your parents had been hunters their whole lives, so it was no question they had a connection to John, who had been relentlessly searching for the demon that killed Mary. You didn’t speak to John often, but the times you did, you found there was very little care in his eyes.

Dean was too cool for you - he was a leather jacket wearing bad boy who cruised around with a different girl each week, while you mostly kept your head down and tried to do well in your classes. Sam was nice to you at home, but since you weren’t the same age, it was hard to connect to him. While Dean was satisfied being a lone wolf, you had always felt a desperate loneliness in your life. You couldn’t connect to other kids, because you were a hunter, and you couldn’t quite connect to the Winchester boys, because they were more hunter than you. 

You’d heard rumors Dean was taking a date to the homecoming dance. You weren’t sure if you were even going to go. 

On the evening of the dance, you’d decided to stay home. After Dean had gone and Bobby had retired for the night, you’d climbed up onto Bobby’s roof to look at the night sky. Sometimes, moments like this made you remember that you were all just the same people looking at the same sky, even with all the horrible things in the world. 

It was then that you saw a car ripping through the lot, and you bolted upright. John Winchester was returning, and you tried to see if your parents were following, but there wasn’t another car in sight. You ran downstairs, hoping to catch them, but it was only John, no other shadows stretching behind him in that dark night. That was when you knew you were truly alone.

Bobby told you it would get easier. You thought he was a liar.

After a funeral of fire and a quiet ceremony, you had nowhere to go. You were lucky Bobby was kind, because you were left with him. You spent the next few days avoiding everyone you could, because the pain of being in the world was the worst thing you could have possibly imagined. You barely ate, you barely slept. All you did was lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling hoping something could bring them back.

That was when you really became friends with Dean.

One night, he slipped into your room with a sandwich and a deck of cards. You hadn’t even noticed him come in in your listless state. When he finally approached you, you bolted upright like a scared deer.

“Hey, I brought you something to eat.” He set the sandwich on your nightstand. In the dark of the night, you could barely make out his face. Suddenly, a light cut across the room. He had brought a flashlight. 

You just nodded, staring at the sandwich. You knew you weren’t going to eat it.

He hummed as if he knew this was going to happen. “Wanna play cards?”

That’s how it started. He dealt and you two played every card game imaginable over the next two weeks. At some point, you began to question why he was still here. John clearly wanted to leave, but something was still tying him to Bobby’s place. You didn’t realize until later that it was you, at Dean’s request.

At some point, he started sleeping next to you, eating cold dinners with you in your room, and telling you crazy stories about his hookups and dates. He never told you hunting stories. It almost made you feel like things could become normal, like the two of you were really best friends that had met at school, and were having sleepovers every night.

“Dean,” You whispered one night, gently running a finger down his neck.

“What?” He murmured, turning to you with a soft look in his eyes.

“Thank you.” You said, eyes watering in appreciation. 

“Shh.” He whispered, closing his eyes again. “Don’t thank me for anything.”

Even back then, he was hopelessly selfless. 

But he vanished after that. John Winchester was dragging his boys away, and you barely had time to say goodbye before they disappeared. Then it was just you and Bobby, and even though Bobby was good to you, you fought like crazy. You were so angry at the world, angry that you couldn’t have closure, angry at everything. Bobby was the most patient man in the world with you, letting you scream and cuss and let everything out because he understood, too.

The next time you saw Dean was a few months later, the summer before your junior year. It was hot as hell and you remember standing in the car lot with Bobby, wearing a floppy baseball cap and denim shorts as dust kicked up all around you. John Winchester was back for a few weeks for a case, and he had brought his boys with him.

From then on, the three of you were a team. And you would never let that go with all of your heart.

–

Six weeks later, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Dean Winchester.

Things had changed. You spent more time with Sam, not that you were complaining, but it was different. Sam was your best friend, like your brother. He was good company, but at the same time, sometimes you couldn’t help but see the boy he used to be. Now that the devil was hot on your tail to make Sam say yes, you couldn’t help but feel he needed a little more protection.

Dean was weird around you. You knew it was because he felt awkward, which only made you feel worse. He couldn’t look you in the eyes anymore, and your bar excursions more often than not left you alone with Sam, Dean not even in reach. He usually stumbled back to your motel room within the next morning, grumbling. 

You’d changed everything with your confession. It was getting harder to be around the boys, even with Sam on your side and Cas continually popping in to urge you to do something or another. You also felt slightly betrayed by Cas, although you had spoken to no one about your conversation. It seemed so plain to you that he had been urging you to speak the truth, and now everything was different.

It came to a head when you had picked up burgers for the three of you after another case. Sam was nowhere to be seen. You dumped them on the tiny motel table, hoping to eat and just fall asleep on the couch like you usually did, when Dean came out of the bathroom, stumbling slightly. You looked up just in time to see a brunette woman with him, wrapped in a towel. You felt your stomach turn.

You cleared your throat rather dramatically. The two of them turned to look at you. Your face fell as your eyes met Dean’s. He gave you a half-smile. “Oops, sorry.” 

The woman looked at you shyly and then back at Dean, giggling a bit in embarrassment. God. It was like some kind of karmic torture specifically made for you. “I’ll just go.” You said, mouth turning into a straight line. 

Dean barely acknowledged you, giving you a thumbs up as he and the woman went back into the bathroom. You heard the shower turn on and felt the urge to throw up. You had no claim on Dean - he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. But you knew this had to end, right now.

You grabbed your duffel bag and put the rest of your things in it, zipping it up tightly and slinging it over your shoulder. You could hear the sounds of shower sex beginning, which just felt like a slap in the face. They really couldn’t wait until you stepped out, huh?

You went outside, feeling hot and heavy. Sam was coming in with his head down, having not expected you to step out at the same time, and you slammed into him. “Christ, Y/N, you’re a woman on a mission-” He cut himself off as he saw the expression on your face and the bag on your shoulder. “Woah, what’s happening?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Sam.” Your voice cracked, and you finally felt the dam break. Tears were flowing. “I want to help you two, you know I do. You’re my family. But I can’t do this with Dean anymore, I just can’t.”

Sam’s face softened. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Look, just call me if you need anything, and you know I’ll be there in a second. But I can’t be with you right now. I need to go somewhere else or I’ll drive myself insane.”

Sam reached for you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You let yourself relax for a moment, tears staining his brown jacket. He rubbed your back slightly, and then you found yourself pushing him away. It was too much.

“Goodbye, Sam.” You whispered.

“I’ll call you.” He responded, a sad puppy-dog look on his face. Some things never changed.

You walked away from him and didn’t turn back. Maybe this would be the peace you needed, or maybe this was going to be your downfall. Either way, you knew that you had to distance yourself from the curse of Dean Winchester, or else you might fall.

–

You had gotten hot on the trail of a demon case, investigating in a small town by yourself. Demons had been popping up everywhere now that Lucifer was going to make a return, and you were doing your best to combat it. It had only been a week and a half since you’d left Sam and Dean, and you were feeling their absence. You’d only had brief stints as a solo hunter; more often than not, you had a Winchester behind you.

Sam had called you a few times, but you’d been keeping your conversations short, mostly because you felt like you were going to burst into tears every time you heard Dean in the background. Dean hadn’t reached out to you and you felt a part of you slipping away, like you’d officially severed whatever closeness the two of you had had before. You never thought something like this could have ever come between you two.

Currently, you were blasting Metallica as you drove to an abandoned warehouse you knew a few demons were hiding out at. You’d gotten some good intel from a crossroads, and were going to follow through on it by yourself. Armed with an angel blade you’d secured from Castiel, you felt unstoppable, if only because of your adrenaline rush.

You parked in the darkness far from the warehouse, intending to slink in silently. You grabbed your bag and your phone, using the cover of night to hide yourself as you approached the walls of the outside. Above, you could see a light on in the second floor. 

You slid your arm inside through a broken window and unlatched a door, letting yourself in. The inside of this place was decrepit, but also huge, making it a landmine for glass and random scraps. You tiptoed carefully upstairs, trying to gauge how many demons there could possibly be. You knew there were at least 4, which was already a lot for one person.

When you peeked into the second floor at the stairs, you saw 6 demons standing in a circle around a hazardous looking fire. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, wondering if this was a good time to retreat. Instead, you decided to do the stupid thing.

You pulled your phone out to play a recording you’d captured a long time ago of yourself reading an exorcism. As soon as it started, all 6 demons whipped around to you, and began to charge.

“It’s the Winchester girl! Get her!”

You ran, clutching your phone as the exorcism played. You could tell it was affecting them, as they began to struggle to move, but one demon, a woman with brown hair that made you think of Dean and the woman in the shower, leapt at you, pinning you down. You twisted, trying to grab your angel blade, but she grabbed her own knife and stabbed you in the stomach. You screamed, lurching sideways as you escaped her grasp, her own body beginning to spasm at the sound of the exorcism. 

You stood, shakily, as a male demon ran towards you. You kicked the brunette, her black demonic essence escaping as the male demon swung at you. You swung back, not managing to get him until his body began to convulse as well. You were running on fumes, adrenaline fueling your body as you pushed him away.

Two female demons began to wrestle control back to their bodies, and one of them willed scrap pieces of glass at you, throwing you backwards as shards of glass pierced your arm. You shrieked, trying not to feel the pain as she grabbed your phone and flung it to the ground. It wasn’t hard enough to break it, but apparently enough to crack it enough that the recording began to stutter. And that was enough. Four demons out of six had been exorcized, and the woman who had thrown the glass at you was going to kill you. Another man stood behind her, trying to catch his breath.

You played hard to get, attempting to dodge their onslaught of attacks until you sideswept the man, stabbing him with the angel blade and seeing that satisfactory orange glow of death. Only the woman remained, and she turned to you with a sneer.

“I thought your guard dogs would be coming to rescue you by now. Is this a suicide mission?”

“Shut up.” You growled, running towards her and pinning her against the wall.

“I heard you and Deany-weany had a huge breakup, is that true?” She snickered, not even caring you had her pinned.

“I said…” You stabbed her in the face, angel blade piercing her skull with ease. “Shut up.”

She laughed slightly as her body shook, and then she was dead.

You felt the veil of adrenaline leave your body in that moment, and then you could tell you were completely fucked. Your stab wound was bad, really bad, and you could see you’d lost a lot of blood. The glass that pierced your arm was deep in your skin, and you could see the way it had torn your flesh. You felt sick as you suddenly collapsed.

“Little ol’ me, taking down six demons?” You felt delusional, laughing a little as you reached for your cracked phone. “I’m a miracle worker.”

You dialed the first number you knew. He picked up within half a second, despite everything.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” Dean’s voice crackled through the speaker, although you could barely make him out with how broken your phone was. You wondered if you were hallucinating his response, too.

“Dean,” You muttered, breathing labored. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” His voice was growing panicked.

You let out a sharp laugh. “Fuck.”

“Where the hell are you?!”

“See you later, Dean.” You whispered, closing your eyes. You could feel darkness coming over you.

“Y/N!? Wait!” His voice grew fainter and fainter until it was just a dim thought in the distance, and then you disappeared into the dark.

–

When you woke up, you were surprised you were still alive.

You gained consciousness so quickly you felt it was almost a dream. Suddenly and quickly, you sat up, too alert for your liking and too uncertain about what was going on to be lethargic. You looked around. 

You were in the hospital, a heart monitor beeping next to you. There were thick bandages wrapped around your midsection, and your left arm was covered in stitches. You pulled back the blanket and saw bruises across your legs.

“Y’know, I always thought Sam was better for you.”

You whipped to your right and saw Dean, alone, sitting in a hospital chair. It looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“What?” You whispered, not daring to believe your eyes.

“He’s a better man than me, Y/N.” He said, looking at you with those soft emerald eyes. “Because if I were him, I’d have beat the shit out of me a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Dean?” You asked, confused. The brightness of the room made it hard to concentrate, like you still couldn’t tell if this was real.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m an idiot.” He reached for you and you let him, your hands engulfed in his. Dean was always so warm, his hands calloused and rough from years and years of hard work. The way you fit together; it was natural.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.” You replied, finally understanding. “It’s not your fault you don’t have feelings for me.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He chuckled wryly like you’d told a bad joke. “I…”

“You… what?”

“I do. I have feelings for you.”

You sat in stunned silence. First there was anger, but then confusion. You couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Okay, again, what the hell are you talking about?” You cocked your head at him, squinting your eyes in what you could only assume was in a very Castiel manner.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved I’ve seen get hurt.” Dean said, tightening his grip on you. “Everyone in my life is always in danger. And you…” He chuckled again, and you saw the hint of tears forming in his eyes. “You were always the best of all of them, y’know? You never put up with my shit. You let me sing in the car. You let me play my music louder than anything when we used to drive to school together.”

He paused, and you waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“I just thought if I pushed you away you’d leave and find a better life.” He said, finally. “Because it’s what you deserve. Because I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You stared at him, shocked. Even in the worst cases, even in his own stupid way, Dean was still the most idiotically selfless man you knew. You let out a sigh.

“You know, I’m not some helpless damsel.” You said, squeezing his hands back.

“God, sweetheart, do I know that. You took out six fucking demons by yourself, killer.” Dean almost laughed. “I’d be angry if I wasn’t so relieved you’re still alive.”

“Right, then, you know!” You cried. “You know I’ve been taking care of myself this whole time. If I wanted a different life, I’d choose it. But as it stands, I want this life with you.”

You leaned in closer to Dean, as close as the proximity between a hospital bed and a chair could give you. He looked confused. “But why?”

“Dean, road-tripping with you and your brother, stopping the apocalypse, fighting monsters, saving people - that’s as close as perfect as life can get, I think.”

Tears dripped down his face. “Y/N, I’m so, so sorry for everything.”

“You better be damn sorry!” You laughed this time, pressing your forehead against his. “I can’t believe how big of an idiot you are.”

“Me neither,” he whispered, glancing at your lips for a moment before looking back at you. “Can I…?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

He pressed his lips against yours, pulling you closer to him. His arms tugged at your waist, bringing you in, closer, closer, closer still until you felt there couldn’t possibly be any distance between you. He was so desperate, not letting you pull away as you made out on the hospital bed, hands pulling at you and clawing at your hair. When you finally pulled away, you were breathless.

When you looked at each other again, there were stars in his eyes. “You know everybody else I’d been with was meaningless before this, right?” 

With the way he was looking at you, there was no way you could ever doubt him. But still, you pulled away. He looked hurt. “I want to believe you, Dean. But you still hurt me.” 

He nodded solemnly, in understanding. 

“But I want to give this a shot, if you do.” 

He perked up, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course I do, baby.”

You smiled at that. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

He nodded, and then sat up like he remembered something. “Before I forget.” Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two rather squashed looking sandwiches wrapped in plastic. In his other hand, he took out a deck of cards. “I thought you might be hungry, and maybe we could eat over a game of cards?”

You split into the biggest grin you could muster. “I’d love that.”

#supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert

[roonyxx]

Stolen Crown Chapter 4: Eyes on the Whip

By @jay-and-dean and @roonyxx

Pairings : Dean x reader ? Kight!Dean x reader ?

Summary :  What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

This, as much as it looks like it, is not ‘technically’ an AU, because your Dean, our Dean, exists too…

Serie Warnings : Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain. Each Chapter will have detailed warnings.

Chapter warnings : not much for this one, a liiitle angst.

Chapter Word count : 4385

Note : This is a collaboration between both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Text divider by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Stolen Crown Masterlist

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

Three days have passed and she is starting to fear that Dean won’t find her as easily as she hoped. 

Sitting in the Council’s room, alone, she tries to catch her breath. 

Three days of constant duty, of playing a role that isn’t hers strangled by laces and loneliness. And, if it is becoming a little easier each day to act like she was God’s representative on Earth, the nights are becoming harder and harder.

Her phone will be out of battery soon, even if she saves it like gold, because she can’t fall asleep without watching a few videos she has of her Dean or read a few old texts…

She scratches her stomach through the rigid corset, wondering once again about the knight version of Dean. About his life and how close it can be to the real Dean’s life…

They talked about Alastair, is he a demon ? Are there other people she knows here ?…

But this time, on her high throne, sitting like she was indeed the Queen, out of habit, an idea comes to her…

She gets up suddenly, and points her finger to one of the two guards that constantly stay in this room without moving a finger like they were pieces of furniture.

“You” she states, and the man turns to her in a military move without looking up. “Where is Sir Winchester ?”

“He is attending the military assembly, Your Majesty. Shall I get him fetched ?”

“No, no. You shall not” she answers, with a corner smile. “How long will that assembly be ?”

“Your Majesty, Lord Winchester will not be back before dawn I fear, the assembly stands in Althertown.”

“Good… Right” she nods, satisfied by the answer. “I need to go to the Archives” she states, knowing since the last Council that they exist but having no idea where they are. “As Sir Winchester cannot guarantee my security, you will take me there.”

“Your wish is my command.”

The huge room is filled with wooden shelves, on which are safely arranged scrolls and she has no idea where to start. Looking at the paper collection, she sighs. 

“May I help you, my Queen ?” an old man comes her way, wearing the Men of Letters grey.

“Yes” she nods. “But I require your discretion.”

“The Queen’s interests are only the Queen’s matter” he answers naturally, like he was used to seeing her here.

“Do you keep files about people ?” she asks, knowing it is probably not a good idea to talk right away about Dean. 

“Only if they made History” he frowns. “Maybe if your Majesty told me about the information you are looking for. I wrote half of these scrolls myself.”

She looks around, wondering if she can trust the old man. Men of Letters are the smartest more educated people of the Kingdom, it means they are the more dangerous. 

“I would like to read about Alastair” she states, thinking maybe it wouldn’t look like she is investigating Dean. “He had Sir Winchester under his command, right ?”

He looks at her, his great brain visibly working behind his eyes. 

“He did” the old man nods, walking to a specific shelf, and he marks a little pause. “This is about the East massacre, my Queen, right ? I knew your Majesty would want to read more about it one day.”

She swallows hard, understanding this is about something the Queen herself wasn’t ready to hear. 

“Yes, take those” she answers. “And…” she hesitates, “everything about what happened a year ago.”

A silence falls on the both of them, making the room even more impressive. 

“My Queen…” he clears his throat. “You asked me personally to burn the wedding deed and the trial transcript…”

She searches his face, trying to hide the billion questions coming across her mind. A wedding ? A trial ?

The Man of Letters puts cautiously the scrolls on one of the large tables, offering a seat to the Queen. Opening the paper, he looks at it to know where to find the parts she needs. 

“Tell me about the East massacre” she orders. “You already know more than those hold.” 

The old man leans on the table, scratching his chin, then he starts to talk.

“My Queen” he starts, like the subject was painful to him. “So, you already know that General Alastair went crazy and evil during the East Lands wars… We sadly all know that.”

She nods, imagining that someone like Alastair being a General in the army wasn’t, indeed, a good thing. 

“And when the Council asked your very young Majesty to let them open a trial against him for war crimes” he continues. “You remember it was about what the Men of Letters called the East Massacre.”

“Can you remind me everything that happened ? I was so young” she tries, hoping she is not supposed to know all this by heart. 

The old man looks at her with an ounce of confusion, but joins his hands in front of him and calmly explains. 

“He decided to slaughter the civilians in the East as much as the Army, and spread death and torture to satiate his thirst for blood in what we counted as a hundred villages… Majesty.”

“Alastair” she groans, looking at the papers in front of her.

It is a transcription of a trial, Alastair’s trial. It is said that he had tortured and burned… And the name of Dean appears. 

“What about Sir Winchester ?” she asks.

“That is what I thought you would ask” he sighs. “As you know, Sir Dean Winchester was forced to join the army at a very young age, when his father lied about his age to make him join the forces of the King, your father.”

“Of course John did” she mutters. 

“Sir Dean Winchester was not supposed to be in the East wars, he had gotten there after trading his place with his brother, our honorable Commander, Sir Samuel Winchester, who had been called to fight in the Lord Azazel’s army.”

She nods, looking through the paper. So Dean saved Sammy here too, Dean sold himself for his brother to get a life… Maybe he is not so different from her own hero after all.

“Majesty ?” he catches her attention. 

“Yes, go on.”

“What you never asked, your Majesty” he says with a tender smile, that lets her understand that he might be one of the few people the Queen actually trusts for a long time. “Is why Abbot Castiel became your future knight’s protector.”

Her eyes widen at the angel’s name. Did Cas raise this Dean from perdition too ?

“What you have to understand, your Highness” he says with a hint of tenderness in his voice, like he had known her since childhood. “Is that Alastair made your knight involved in those massacres.”

“Dean started torturing after a while” she says for herself while her mind starts filling the blanks, not realizing that she called him like this. 

The old man gives her a sorry smile.

“Sir Dean Winchester was losing his soul, Father Castiel said, and he could not let such a virtuous man be soiled by the violence of war and the madness of a black souled man. He found the soldier wandering like a crazy animal, saw his suffering, and took him to the Abbey. When the Council later condemned Alastair to death sentence, they made a few of his accomplices be executed too… Abbot Castiel saved your knight’s soul, and he saved his life.”

“That’s…” she asks, looking down at the paper again. 

“I regret to tell you all of this, Majesty” the Man of Letter says sincerely. “I am very aware of your tenderness for your Sir. And I know you never asked because you wanted to keep a pure image of your dear knight.”

His voice is so soft and his words so kind. 

For the first time, she feels a little less lonely, and she guesses that the Queen must feel the same when she comes to this man too.

“That does not soil my conviction that he is a good man” she says with a little smile. “He has been through Hell and none of us can lack humility enough to judge him, right ? “

Her own voice surprises her, and her words make her shiver. It is like, by dint of being treated like royal, she was starting to act and talk like it…

The old man searches her face for a second, and nods. 

“Your Majesty reminds us with every word why the Crown has to be where it is” he smiles. “And I find a great pride in being the one that taught you to think.”

She returns his smile, relieved to see such a friendly face, and moves the papers in her fingers, reading a few sentences here and there. 

“Is that why the Council is so hostile to him ?” she asks. 

“I think your Majesty knows this is about what happened a year ago” the old man states, looking down. “But not only, I fear the Council does not trust your affection for the knight, and wants to keep a man with no great birth away from the Crown.”

“And about this… year ago ?” she swallows.

“You already know all about that, my Queen” he frowns, visibly worried. “What would you want to dig more ?”

While he stays silent, waiting for an answer, her eyes get caught by Dean’s name on one of the scrolls. She takes it and starts to read…

As she does, her heart clenches in her already crushed chest, and blood makes her cheeks burn. 

“Wh-what is that…” she mutters.

Therefore, for the crime of high treason, Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester, will be taken to the public place and whipped until the executioner can see his back bones. This is the will of her Majesty the Queen. The paper says.

“I could not burn the sentence, my Queen” the old man regrets. “I could throw the trial to the flames, but this belongs to the Council…”

“What did she do…” he voice is weak, strangled. “I need to talk to Sam Winchester.”

Her heart is pounding, her stomach sick. And while the old man nods, she puts the paper down, with trembling hands. 

“I will get my Commander, Majesty” he states. “Just try to not make yourself go through your own Hell again.”

But she is not listening. 

This is the will of her Majesty the Queen. 

The minutes she stays alone, watching through the paper in that huge silent room, surrounded by a History that isn’t hers, are the longest of her life. How could that evil Queen order that ? How could this be her will ? Whatever Dean did… She is the villain of this story.

“Your Majesty” a familiar voice resonates calmly in the room.

She lifts her teary eyes and finds Sam, standing straight in his traditional grey outfit with his hands joined in front of him.

“Is something wrong, your Majesty ?” he asks.

“Did I condemned Dean to extreme torture ?”

He sighs. 

“My Queen… You have to stop punishing yourself…”

“Stop punishing myself !” she gets up, pacing the room to avoid bursting in tears. “What happened ? You have to tell me, you are the only one I fully trust. Tell me what happened !”

That man she is used to call her best friend stands still, a painful frown on his face, like he was sincerely sympathizing with her pain.

“You already know, my Queen.”

“I DON’T” she suddenly screams, punching a shelf. 

The Man of Letter takes a step back and frowns. 

“Majesty, allow me to talk like the friend you know I am…” he sighs, letting his back relax a little, like he was changing his character. “You have been worrying me for a few days. And right now… You sound delusional, my Queen. Is something wrong ? I beg you to tell me so I can serve you.”

“What do you know about the supernatural ? What if I told you… I am not the Queen.”

He stays still, searching her face sternly when she thought he would freak out.

Will he think the Queen lost her mind ? Maybe saying that, she just provoked her death and the fall of the Kingdom…

“I know what there is to know” he speaks calmly. “And even if everything in my mind is telling me this cannot be, I have to admit that I feel a great conviction in your words.”

“Sam…” she begs. “Sir… If you claim being her friend, it is now that you will have to prove it. Here.”

She takes her phone hidden between the heavy layers of clothes, to show him some pictures, making him frown in confusion.

“This is a device we have in my world. Look this is you, the other you… And me… This is a car and… Cities look like that…”

Convincing Sam, even if it takes a little time, is surprisingly easy, but how could she doubt his cleverness and loyalty. 

After a hundred questions about her phone, about her world and how she crossed it, he is already starting to understand a lot by himself.

“My brother knows” he states with a disapproving sigh.

“He is the only one” she nods. “You have to understand why he chose to hide it : If they know about me, I die, and if the Queen is missing too long…”

“That would be a disaster, for all of us.”

“Sam and Dean from my world know everything about magic, everything. I know they will find a way to make the trade again, and the Queen will be back… But I have no idea how long it will take and I know nothing about this world.”

The Commander of the Men of Letter gets up, and walks to the window. 

“You look perfectly like her” he says low, his eyes on the castle’s gardens. 

“It’s because I am her… just not. I know it’s confusing.”

“How close are you to my brother ?” he asks, turning to her again.

“I think I mostly annoy him…”

“From your world I mean” he cuts her.

“Oh Dean is… My best friend, he is my partner in work. Sam and him are the best people I know, the best there is.”

He nods, still thinking hard, and mutters a silent alright, before he looks at the garden again.

“But there are matters you do not need to know to pretend to be the Queen” he says.

“No Sam… Sir” she insists. “I will answer every question you ask, everything” she begs. “I-I am playing a role that isn’t mine, I can’t be blinded by secrets, please. And I need… I really need to know why I… her, why any version of me would harm the last person I want to harm.”

He scratches his beard and turns to her, hesitating. 

“One year ago” he finally starts, earning a sigh of relief from her. “The Queen came to me with doubts in her mind. She saw my brother become more devoted than he ever was, so much that did not take a minute for anything that was not dedicated to her well being and safety. She, all fair and kind that she is…”

“Fair and kind” she grunts.

“You have to listen” he groans, his natural authority making her shiver. 

“I do, I do” she nods, adjusting in her chair. 

“She was starting to worry that my brother might not be happy… I reminded her that this was not among all the responsibilities she has and that he had swore his life to her” he looks down for a minute. “But she did not listen to me, her will is stronger than any of ours. So she started to search, in secret, ways to make my brother’s happiness.”

She listens, still wondering how Dean could have ended up being tortured. 

“And she found what she thought was the perfect way…” he clears his throat. “Before my brother entered the Queen’s service, he had some short idylls and the Queen had found a lady she knew her knight had liked in the past, Lady Braeden.”

“Lisa !” she cuts him. 

“Do you know her ?” he frowns.

“A little yes, but… continue please.”

“One night, after the maids were gone, she made him fetched. I remember coming across my brother on the way to her room, he was worried, sure, because why would the Queen make him come at night ? But he was also very honored…”

“He really likes the Queen” she mutters, but Sam ignores her words. 

“What happened next, I only know from their testimonies” Sam states. “Her Majesty presented him the paper for a good marriage she had planned, but my brother refused, hurt that she could try to get rid of him.”

“Oh” she frowns.

“He is not allowed to refuse anything to her but this time, this one time in his life he did… He told her he would not get married, that his life shall stay hers until he dies. The Queen, frustrated that her most loyal man resisted her plans, apparently went upset and screamed at him… My brother, you have to forgive him, cannot imagine his life any other way than serving the Queen, he yelled back” he sighs. 

“Oh, I guess no one screams at the Queen” she shivers. “Still not a reason to torture him !”

“The guards were worried by the Queen’s screams, and when they finally entered” he looks down. “They found my brother yelling at the Queen and tears in her eyes, he was cutting the papers with his knife.”

“Oh God…”

“The Council concluded, despite the Queen’s attempt to tell them he was not threatening her, that he had assaulted the Queen” Sam explains with pain in his throat. “And this is a crime that is punished by Death, whatever the circumstances. A trial was open and her Majesty did all that she could, but he had been caught yelling at the crying Queen, his knife in hand, in her bedroom at night. So the Council voted for a Death sentence, and the Queen for a total acquittal.”

“Dean told me that only once she opposed the Council…” she thinks out loud. 

“She did” he nods. “She threatened to undo it, and it weakened her usually great popularity. She even visited him in the penitentiary, with my help. He begged her to save her honor and let him die, but she answered she could live without her honor, not her soul… Our Queen” he swallows hard. “She is the smartest, most fair person in the Kingdom. She stayed up, all night every night, to find a way to save my brother and she found it. When the Queen and the Council disagree, the Crown can gather the Council again, that is what she did, but not before she could, one by one with secrets and schemes, take down all the members she could change. She made me Head of the Men of Letters, she made the religious shoulders quit… And a new Council was born.”

“I guess not everybody liked her ways” she rubs her face. 

“They did not indeed… And even like that, the Death sentence was almost inevitable. After a fifteen hours Council when the Queen was physically holding herself, the Council agreed that he could survive and keep his position but only once expiated in pain and humiliation…”

“What happened to him.” she asked the tall Winchester.

“She had ordered for him to be whipped 72 times in front of the entire village and court.” Sam’s voice broke, the memory apparently extremely painful. “It was the only way to save him from death.”

Y/n puts her hand over her mouth as tears wet her eyes.

“She watched it happen?” 

“She did” he nods. “She had to, to show the people that threatening the Queen will not go unpunished” his voice is dark, his body tense in his traditional outfit. “It destroyed her. She was ill for a long time, ill with guilt. She was no longer fit to rule and remained in bed for weeks, only rising at night to see my brother in the infirmary” he swallows hard.

“He survived 72 whips?” she asks, she knew that a cut could mean death here because of the low medical knowledge.

“He nearly died, but lost consciousness before the executioner finished” Sam’s eyes look distant as he speaks from memory. “The entire town’s field was red with his blood, many people turned away…”

She takes slow, deep breaths, trying to chase the images hitting her mind. He must have screamed, and she must have clenched her jaw so hard it could break her teeth. 

Far from making her hate the Queen like she thought it would, this story, for the very first time, makes her truly feel for her royal double.

The silence marking the pause in the Commander’s explanation is heavy, crushing them, making the air thick ; and it takes a minute before he is able to continue.

“Sir Winchester… Dean is loved by the town, witnessing his harm was unbearable for most. But especially for the Queen, only did she not have the virtue of being able to turn her head away. She had to watch” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “When it was over, they dragged him to the dungeon of the castle. I… I thought he had passed, and so did the Queen. but he survived” a hint of a smile appears on his lips. “He endured a severe infection and fever from the deep cuts, her Majesty had him transferred to Castiel’s abbey, where he was tended to his wounds. Without that enormous risk she took to help him heal, he would not be standing here today.”

“How did he become this important again ? I can’t see how The Council would ever let him near her again” she wondered.

“The Council cannot choose who is allowed around the Queen” he states. “And a Knight is Knight for life. My brother himself was not expecting to be awaited at his post again. And yet, a week exactly after he could fight again he received a royal letter, commanding him to be back to work.” 

“She wasn’t going to let him go” she half smiles. 

“Of course some members of the Council were very bitter to see him at her right again, and she waited until last month to let him be the Hand again” the Man of letter says, turning to her. “You understand now why I told you to be careful.”

“I do…”

“Some members of the Council have been waiting for a misstep, from Dean or from the Queen herself. That event, and her fight against the old nobles has weakened her position. Even if she made a new Council, she is at a fragile moment of her reign. And the Council is demanding an heir.”

“That is why I have to be extremely careful…” Y/n realizes, one misstep and she could ruin the queen’s life and probably many others.

“Thank you Sa- Sir Winchester for telling me and trusting me, I will do my utter best to be the queen” she lifts her chin high to emphasize her words.

“I must find Dean now” she gets up and starts walking backwards. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Pleasure to meet you, do not hesitate to confide in me with more questions if necessary” he tells her. “I will dedicate my time to find the Queen now, and pray.”

“I won’t. Good luck” and with that she leaves, on weak legs, suffocated with a million emotions, to walk back to her room. 

She comes across the same guard as in the Council room on her way and orders him to go fetch Knight Winchester as soon as he will be back, and bring him to her workroom.

She is inside, pacing in her heavy dress, holding it in her hands so she is able to walk better, playing the horror in her head, the suffering of this woman that has to be so strong, and of this man who loves her despite his birth origin. 

When she hears a knock, she stops in her tracks.

“Enter” she says loud enough for the person on the other side of the thick door to hear.

Dean enters and closes the door behind him. His large shoulders are still covered with a huge fur coat, and his boots are dirty, the knight didn’t make her wait a minute more than he could, and came right away. 

He looks tired. Probably the trip was long, and the meeting exhausting… But he is back now, and he ran to her.

“You asked for me?” he wonders.

“I know” is all she said.

“What do you know, my lady ?” he frowns.

“What happened to you a year ago.”

#stolen crown #stolen crown chapter 4 #collab #jay and dean #knight!dean x queen!reader #queen!reader #medieval fic #roonyxx #dean winchester #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean angst #dean smut #angst

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Fool for You | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — I was wondering if I could request a one shot of dean and a female reader. Where they’re best friends with benefits. They also aren’t exclusive in their friends with benefits, Dean still sleeps around. But she tries not to let it get to her. The reader loves him and one day realizes that she doesn’t know if she can do this anymore.

✦ warnings — angst, friends with benefits, making out, mentions of sex, a twinge of jealousy, fluff.

✦ author's note — the ending was requested too.

════════════════════════

Fresh out of the shower, you sat on your desk and opened your laptop. You had a TV show to finish and a spin-off to start.

You always tried to avoid distractions during hunts. Research took up most of your time, and even when it didn’t, you preferred to be as sharp as possible.

The show wasn’t particularly good, but it was so entertaining that you could ignore most of the nonsensical plot elements.

A knock on your door prompted you to pause the show. Whining, you stood up and stretched before taking a couple of steps towards the door.

You found Dean in your doorway. He gave you a charming smile and entered your room without asking.

“You okay?”

You must have looked surprised to see him because he rarely asked such a thing. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He immediately leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he placed his lips on yours.

Reflexively, you kissed him back. You rested a hand on the back of his head, bringing him even closer.

Dean set his other hand on your ass, tickling your mouth open with his tongue. You didn’t fight it, getting distracted by the taste of minty toothpaste in his warm mouth.

Before things would escalate, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him off you. “I’m tired, Dean.”

“What? Oh, duh! We slept like shit last night, you’re right.”

You didn’t mean it like that. Could he really not see that?

Dean kissed your cheek. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

“You too.”

He left the room and closed the door for you. His steps echoed down the hallway until the creek of his door filled your ears.

You hated this. You hated feeling like you would lose him at any moment. Would it count as losing him if he wasn’t even yours? Not entirely.

He never would.

Somebody always falls in friends with benefits arrangements, you knew that, but you had naively hoped it would be him.

There was no such thing as a relationship without feelings. Why did you fall for that trap so easily? Did wanting to have a tiny part of him make you look desperate?

He could easily go fuck somebody else. He probably would do it that same night.

You were used to it, to the smell of somebody else’s perfume on his clothes and other people’s marks on his skin.

While the arrangement had been clear from the get-go, you had hoped you would be enough to satiate him. He was enough for you.

You closed your laptop and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall Dean had pinned you to so many times.

You couldn’t end things with him, not yet. Having a tiny part of him was better than not having him at all. You just needed a break.

He was your best friend, the benefits part wouldn’t change that. Everything would be fine between you.

Hopefully.

Yeah, a break would be good.

For the next few days, declining his invitations to the bar or for a supply run proved to be difficult. Usually, you joked around during those and talked for hours over a few drinks whether it was at the bunker or the bar.

That was until he either fucked you or found somebody else to fuck and you were reminded he only wanted you for your body, obviously.

Being wanted only for your body by a hot person wouldn’t have been an issue if you weren’t in love with them.

So that evening you declined too and it felt horrible. You missed him, you wanted to have his attention and mess around with him.

Dean hadn’t asked if something was wrong, he probably couldn’t tell the difference at this point. You hated that you fell for him and you hated even more that he didn’t reciprocate.

The hardest part was when Sam and Castiel came back to the bunker well into the night and he didn’t.

He used to tell you about his hookups before the arrangement. Now he kept the details to himself but didn’t try to hide the fact that he had just fucked somebody else.

It was part of the arrangement, you too were free to see other people. But you weren’t ready.

════════════════════════

The empty library welcomed you in its silent glory.

Setting your laptop on the table, you searched for a book related to the potential case you had found.

You were always careful with the books, some were so old that you feared they would turn to dust in your hands. You didn’t need that in your conscience.

Thankfully, you didn’t need such an old book. Carrying the couple of tomes that could be useful, you set them on the table beside your laptop.

Sitting down, once sure you had closed the door, you started your research. Or attempted to.

You tried every trick there was to focus. Ambiance audios, rain sounds, your favorite playlist... maybe a snack would help, but you weren’t hungry.

Taking a gulp of water, you rested your back against the chair and sighed. Breathing exercises didn’t help either. You needed fresh air.

“You going out?” Sam asked from the kitchen.

“Just for a walk, I need to stretch my legs.”

“I’ve told you to come with me in the mornings.”

“I’m not a runner. Or a morning person... but thanks!”

Sam huffed a laugh and told you to be careful. You went along, pulling the front door open and finally stepping out of the bunker.

It hadn’t felt like its namesake in so long... you usually called it home, it had been easy to do so. Both Dean and Sam had gone out of their way to make you feel welcome, to assure you that place was to be your refugee and much more.

You remembered it was a Saturday the moment you reached the park. Children were laughing and yelling in the playground and parents were not too far from them watching them.

Some people were walking their dogs, others were buying ice cream, and you saw a few couples too.

One of the couples caught your eye. She was shorter than him, bigger too, and she was smiling brightly as he took a photo of her.

He showed it to her, but you didn’t get to see where the exchange ended. It felt like you were watching something too intimate, even if they were in public.

You could have that, you deserved something like that.

Seeing them made you miss Dean even more. He was surprisingly sweet and caring, he would probably do that for you if you caught him in a good mood.

Well, would he do it for you specifically? You weren’t sure, you liked to tell yourself he would do things for you he wouldn’t do for anybody else. You would for him, anything.

What was the use of tormenting yourself like this? Dean could be like that with anyone, but he was clearly not interested in doing it with you.

You should have fallen for the corner store’s handsome clerk. At this point, he had shown more interest in you than Dean.

Continuing with your walk, you focused on what you needed. The change of scenery was good, so good that you didn’t mind the dry spring warmth.

Your heart dropped as you turned around to go back, the twinges of sadness so familiar that you wouldn’t be yourself without them.

You walked slowly on your way back, taking your surroundings in. The area hadn’t changed since you moved in and thankfully most people kept to themselves.

Stopping at the front door, you pulled your keys out. Without hesitance, you slid the key in and unlocked the door.

The first thing your senses processed as you crossed the doorway was the sound of a sports commentator on the TV.

You had to cross the living room either way, so you followed the sound and cringed as it became louder and louder.

Dean was alone, sitting on his favorite side of the couch, with a beer in hand and the remote control on his thigh.

He took a swig of beer and without taking his eyes off the TV, asked, “Where were you?”

“I went to the park.”

“The park?” he repeated as though it was hard to believe.

“Yeah, you know, the big public area with trees, benches, playgrounds—“

He snapped his head towards you and interrupted you, “I know what a damn park is!”

“Well...” You awkwardly shrugged. “I was there.”

He was glaring at you and you were lost as to why. Did he really care that much? You doubted it.

“I have research to do,” you announced.

He hummed and went back to watching the TV.

He didn’t even try to hide the hickey on his neck, but somehow you were supposed to tell him where you were at any given moment? He knew you hadn’t gone out in days!

You needed to get over him, that way you would get your best friend back.

So you downloaded Tinder. It took you a long time to set up the profile, choosing a photo was tedious, and coming up with a good bio almost gave you a headache.

But swiping through people’s photos and profiles was entertaining. The rush that matching with people gave you was worth the hassle, at least for now.

Talking to people was fun. Nothing serious would come out of it, you rarely were in town and even if you were, you didn’t think you could trust people from a dating app. Not with your line of work.

You had forgotten what flirting was like. Thankfully, you didn’t feel that embarrassed because you weren’t serious about it.

Maybe by the end, you would have another friend or two. You needed more people in your life.

════════════════════════

Your phone lit up on the counter. You leaned in to read the notification and so did Dean. It was a text.

“Who’s Max?”

You never went on any dates with people from Tinder, and unlike Dean, you didn’t even consider hooking up with anybody. But you did end up exchanging numbers with a couple of guys.

Max was your favorite of the two, he didn’t mind if you took more than five minutes to reply to his texts, was funny, and had interesting stories to tell.

You started dodging his attempts at flirting fairly soon, yet you were sure you would have gone out with him if you weren’t already in love with Dean.

“A friend.”

“Oh, you have friends?” he teasingly asked.

Playfully, you elbowed him on the side. “You know very well I do, jerk.”

“I’ve never met this Max.”

“You haven’t met all of my friends.”

“You’ve met all of mine.”

Had you? Was that important?

He stared at your phone as Max double-texted you. “So where did you meet him?”

“Tinder,” you answered naturally, not thinking much of it.

You had naively harbored hope that you would have a normal conversation as friends, but he turned around and left the kitchen.

His heavy steps disappeared just as the slam of a door echoed through the bunker.

What was his fucking problem now?

Left with the entire workload of making dinner, you started the task at hand in an attempt to avoid thinking about him.

He had never been this prissy or infuriating. There had been a time in which you would have been content with him being your only friend, but it was neither healthy nor sustainable.

You wished your line of work allowed you more freedom, but you rarely complained because it was worth it.

Even the heartbreak from your unrequited feelings was worth it, Dean was worth it.

Thankfully, Sam was the one who summoned him for dinner. You hated seeing him angry or upset, you hated that you couldn't make it better.

Tension hovered over the table like a giant cloud. Sam avoided looking at either of you throughout the meal while Dean clanked his utensils against the ceramic plate which you knew he was doing to bother you.

Sam tried to ease the tended once the meal was over. “Wanna hit the bar?”

“No,” Dean grumbled.

“No, thank you, Sam,” you answered as you stood up. Picking up the plates, you carried them to the sink.

It was Dean's turn to do the dishes, but you weren't going to poke the bear over something as small.

You did the dishes under his scrutinizing gaze. Sam told you both to call him if something came up on his way out, seemingly choosing to ignore whatever was going on between you and his brother.

Silence didn't reign — Dean broke it. “Hey.”

“Mmmh?”

He stalled, reaching over for the cloth to wipe the table.

You dried the dishes with your heart in your throat. Just to keep your hands busy, you put everything in its place even though you three rarely bothered when you used the same dishes so frequently.

Dean washed the cloth in the sink, then his hands. This time he didn't complain about the coconut hand soap you always bought.

“Is... is he the reason why you’re avoiding me?”

Startled, you asked, “Sam?”

“No!” he exclaimed incredulously just to stall once again. Dean set his jaw, then clarified who he meant, “Max.”

You shook your head. It was now or never. “When... when I said I was tired, I didn’t just mean physically tired.”

“I know what you meant.”

“That’s even worse.” You should have known the friendship wouldn’t survive. “I couldn’t help it, okay? It’s fine, I’ll get over it.”

“You should have told me.”

“And embarrass myself? No thanks.”

“Sweetheart, come on… I thought you knew me better than anyone.”

You hated the way your stomach made somersaults every time he called you that.

As you fiddled with the edge of your top, he added, “I wasn’t gonna lie to you and say I don’t feel something too.”

“And what does it change?” you wondered out loud. “You hate that type of commitment.”

Dean lowered his gaze. He couldn’t counter your comment, you had spoken about it many times in the past.

You understood where he was coming from back then. Hell, you understood now too even though you didn’t share his point of view.

“Maybe…” He lifted his head. “Maybe it’s time to try.” Dean got closer to you upon seeing the doubtful expression you adopted. “I’d hate seeing you with somebody else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do. Why would I say shit I don’t mean?”

You shrugged, not daring to say what you were thinking. Even while coming clean, you were scared of offending him.

“Would I ever lie to you?” he insisted.

“I don’t know. You could be lying to me right now and I wouldn’t—” You gave him a sad smile. “I wouldn’t know, Dean, I wouldn’t even mind. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

“I‘m not lying.”

You nodded. “Okay. I hope you’re telling the truth because I believe you.”

He mirrored your nodding. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He took your hand and pulled you toward him. You expected a kiss, you wanted one — but instead, Dean let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you.

You hugged him back, burying your face in his flannel.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin as both of you refused to withdraw from each other.

Still, he moved away first. “Come.”

You dropped your arms, confused. “Where?”

He walked towards the couch and sat down. You turned the kitchen lights off and followed him.

Dean patted his lap. “Sit.” You were about to climb onto his lap when he set his hands on your waist and stopped you. “No, no, giving me your back.”

You did so, slowly settling on his lap. Dean wrapped his arms around you, shifting his legs so both of you would be more comfortable.

“We’re going to watch the stupid show you finished without me, you’re going to delete Tinder, and we’ll have a nice night.”

You tried not to laugh as he pulled you flush to his chest. “Why in this position?”

“I dunno. We’ll move if you get uncomfortable.”

“You should be worrying about your legs getting tired.”

“Nah.” He curled an arm around you and reached over for the remote control with his other hand. “Which episode were we on?” he asked in your ear, tickling you.

Moving away from his face, you answered. “Eight.”

Dean hummed and rested his chin on your shoulder. “You’re not getting away from me.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you lightheartedly asked.

“Promise,” he humbled and kissed your cheek.

You hoped he would keep it.

#dean winchester x reader

[sortasirius]

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do.  I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism.  I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless.  I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done.  I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay.  I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be.  I break everything I touch.  All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me.  I am broken.  I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is.  I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing.  I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative? 

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain.  I met an angel, he’s not like I thought.  He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see.  He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me.  He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes.  I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough.  My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it.  The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it.  I think I should consider him a friend.  Lucifer rises anyway. 

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should.  I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people.  Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then.  The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it.  But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them. 

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else.  I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure.  My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him.  I feel guilty.  We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul.  The angel is back, but he’s no real help.  I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons. 

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies.  Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes?  I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look.  I’m not sure why.  The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven.  Why does everyone leave me?  The Leviathan are out there, a new threat.  At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car.  I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain.  I feel like I’m spinning out of control.  My brother loses his mind.  The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts.  When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do. 

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel.  We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me?  We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind.  It turns out my brother didn’t look for me.  Why am I so dispensable?  The vampire is the only one I can trust now.  I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him.  I feel like I can’t save anyone these days.  I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy?  But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him?  I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here.  My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him.  We find a place to call home.  I’ve never had my own bedroom before.  The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him.  He doesn’t answer my prayers.  He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me.  I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too.  He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again.  I wish I was lovable.  I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got.  The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright. 

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him.  My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly.  I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother.  I feel guilty about that.  I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother.  I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him.  I use humor to hide how much I miss him.  My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me.  Well, I deserve it this time.  I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad.  I start to lose my grip on myself.  My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late.  I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes.  I don’t care about anyone, anything.  There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough.  My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me.  I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water.  For a while, I feel loved.  But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it.  I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know.  The angel tries to stop me.  I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over.  But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel.  Death tells me I have to kill my brother.  I almost do it.  But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again.  Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness.  It scares the hell out of me.  I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it.  Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness?  Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad?  I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late?  Why would he leave me like this?  Will I ever get him back?  My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him.  I just wish I could get through to him.  Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half.  We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it?  God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness.  I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it.  The Darkness doesn’t kill me.  She thanks me.

My mother is alive.  It’s everything I’ve always wanted.  I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought.  That’s hard.  Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid.  How will we kill someone innocent?  I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to.   The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him?  We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it?  The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us.  I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away.  The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me.  Why does everyone run from me?  We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer.  He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real.  My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is...  I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back.  You owe me this, please bring him back.  He doesn’t listen.  I’m alone.  We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once.  I hate the kid, this is his fault.  I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time.  I can’t take it anymore.  Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be?  How much more can I take?  It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened.  I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there.  Maybe this time.  We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom.  I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him.  Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it.  I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it.  I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever.  I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule?  I’ll take the ocean every time.  The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words.  The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late.  My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier.  I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more.  I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger.  Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head.  God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along.  Typical.  He kills our kid.  I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real.  How can I believe that?  Is everything I am just a story?  Have I ever chosen anything?  Does the angel really care about me?  Do I really care about him?  Another one of our friends dies.  I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real.  I meet up with someone I loved.  He’s a monster now, I have to kill him.  He dies holding me.  I wish I was dead sometimes too.  My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God.  I’m spinning in circles.  Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again.  He gets taken from me.  I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him.  I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother.  How will I choose?  Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel.  I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me.  He must know.  He doesn’t want me, no one wants me.  Why would they?  Chuck has taken everything from me.  I have to kill him, no matter the cost.  The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death.  I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long.  I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom.  My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him.  He talks me down, he’s the only one that can.  I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage.  I take the angel and we find her, she chases us.  Another trap.  I realize that I’ve trapped us both.  Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me.  He smiles.  He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him.  How can I tell him how he changed me.  He tells me he’ll die for loving me.  Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life.  Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me.  He tells me he loves me.  I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late.  He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now.  I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

[slipper007]

This was your child.

Word Count: 1,448

Inspired by @icefire149 and @officialmisha 's tags on this post (thank you @featherasscas for motivating me to do this)

Also posted on my AO3

TW: Child Loss, grief and grieving

His body was heavy.

Castiel didn’t expect it, not when he’d scooped Jack up, held him like the child he was.

He had dropped his angel blade, left it behind in order to save Jack from the battle raging around them. He wouldn't leave him there, broken and burnt with his wings charred into the grass, a body so easily possessable by any one of the souls God had conjured. He could still smell the seared skin and ash. No, he would rather die than leave him there.

Arms full, Castiel had made a break for it, gotten all of them into a crypt not far from where God had abandoned them, but he couldn’t bring himself to put Jack down as the Winchesters fortified the door. With his powers, he should have been feather-light.

Castiel thought again of the scorched wings and choked back bile.

He was three. He’d only had three years when he should have had eons like Cas. Creatures like them were cursed in that way, to watch those they loved rise and fall and turn to dust, but they had each other. They should have had each other for the rest of time.

Instead, Jack was limp and soundless in his arms.

Castiel tried to tell himself Jack was asleep, the way humans had comforted themselves for millennia. Empty sockets told him otherwise, but he still laid him on the ground as carefully and gently as he could.

The Winchesters were trying to talk to him, but he was busy. Couldn’t they see that? Jack needed him.

He extended two fingers to the boy’s forehead and felt tendrils of grace try to heal him, just as he had tried when Chuck was smiting him. Maybe now, when he wasn’t contending with the power of a god, he could make it work. He still had power, enough power for this. He had promised Kelly, and Jack himself, that he would be there to protect him. He had signed away his happiness, any attempt at a future, to save this child. This couldn’t be the end.

Castiel’s grace flickered, and his eyes flicked up to Jack’s unchanged face.

Jack still had so much left to do; his story wasn’t over yet.

Castiel brushed the hair from his forehead and tried again, feeling the anguish building in his chest start to overflow.

Nothing was changing, nothing was healing, but a part of him was screaming in agony as it died.

Castiel tried one last desperate thing, reaching deep within himself and ripping a part out, trying to use the scraps of his grace to bring Jack back to life. He was a creature born of primordial energy, and his grace was the core of that, a beacon of life that could heal wounds or grow trees. Surely, when paired with his love, his despair, his sheer will, he could create life anew, bring back his son.

The white-blue glow surrounded them both, and Castiel felt it seeping out, more power than he had tried to use in years pounding in his chest like the heartbeat he wanted to bring back.

Jack stayed unmoving, body growing cold and pale.

It wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t enough power, no God to pray to, nothing he could do.

Jack was dead.

The door creaked and groaned and for once, Castiel welcomed the danger. He didn’t move from Jack’s side as the Winchesters called for him, begged him to help. The door fell with a crash.

The souls didn’t stand a chance.

Continue Reading

Castiel felt the burning, aching pain in his chest grow, and rather than force it down, try to keep channeling it into Jack, he let it out. His grace seized violently as he lashed out at them with his anguish, screaming. White light poured from his body, obliterating every soul it touched as the Winchesters dove for cover. He felt the ground beneath him quake and tremble as a chasm opened between him and the others, and parts of the floor gave out and crumbled. Bodies fell as the souls inside them were destroyed, billions upon billions turned back to the stardust that seeded creation.

All that stopped him from leveling it all, razing the field outside and destroying what was left of Chuck’s machinations, were the stone walls of the crypt around them.

If he destroyed the crypt, he would bury Jack.  

He couldn’t…

The souls gone, Castiel collapsed to his knees. He felt tears burning in his eyes, but tears didn’t soothe the throbbing loss in his chest, and tears wouldn’t bring Jack back. It didn’t stop them from raining down, his tears leaving trails in the dust that had fallen on Jack during it all before he wiped it away.

Castiel wanted nothing more than to join him on that floor.

Who will protect him, keep him safe?

A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Cas…”

“You killed him.”

Castiel hardly recognized the voice that spoke as his own, and apparently neither did the Winchesters.

“God—”

“God didn’t kill Jack, you did,” Castiel said again, feeling anger build in the new hole in his chest. “You held a gun to his head, betrayed him, locked him in a box—”

“He was dangerous, he killed—”

“It was an accident!” Castiel shouted. “He made a mistake!”

“He was soulless!”

“BECAUSE OF YOU!”

The Winchesters startled back as the words echoed, and Castiel felt the roof above them start to crumble. He forced the destruction down, tried to keep from burying his son.

“He burned off his soul saving us, trying to prove he could be useful even without his grace because you taught him he wasn’t! You taught him that the same way you taught me. All he wanted was your approval, to make things right, and you wouldn’t give him that!”

“I—”

“You both were like a father to him. He looked up to you.” Castiel turned his gaze to Dean alone, words cold and angry and burning. “He loved you. And I loved you. I loved you so much that I abandoned everything I ever knew. I took a leap of faith for you, and I suffered and lost more than you could ever imagine. And now you take Jack from me, too. He was three years old.”

For once, the Winchesters fell silent, but it did nothing for him. It wouldn't bring Jack back. He shucked off his trenchcoat and draped it carefully across Jack like a blanket before picking him up.

He was three.

He took Jack outside, feeling his grace spasm and hiccup as the grief grew. It threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

This was your child. I can’t imagine the pain.

Was this what he’d cursed Lily Sunder to a lifetime of?

“Cas,” Sam quietly tried, “He needs a funeral.”

“I’m not giving him a hunter’s funeral,” Castiel snapped, holding Jack even tighter. “Or a human one. He’s half angel, I’ll take care of it.”

Dean moved to speak, but Castiel gave him a withering glare before he could even get the words out.

He tried to set him in the passenger seat of his truck, but couldn’t force himself to. The whirlwind inside him was still thrashing and burning, the dead weight in his arms only making it more violent.

With care, he managed to keep Jack wrapped in his coat and look down to avoid seeing the burned remains of his eyes. When he moved to make his way to the driver’s side, he saw Jack’s wings and the hurricane brewing within him finally came out.

Castiel felt the earth quake and the sky bleed as he tore it all apart. Atom by atom, he reduced the world around him to nothing, collapsing the crypt to dust and cracking the earth as easily as one might swat a fly. The trees toppled like dominos, but he spared the gravestones around him, unable to destroy them.

The bodies underground were all someone’s child, too.

Something in him snapped, and the cosmic power drained away in mere moments. He was left standing at the center of a ruined earth, the last thing standing for miles, even as the Winchesters cautiously looked up from behind the stones, fear in their eyes at the destruction he had caused, of what he was, but he paid them no mind. He was too lost in feeling and he knew, even without thought, that he had fallen.

The pain grew worse, even more all-consuming as emotion overwhelmed him.

Only humans can feel real joy, but…also such profound pain.

He thought he had understood pain and loss before, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

///

Update: continues here

#this fucking hurt to write. #I don't know if i did the concept justice but we're gonna throw it out there anyway #slipper007writes #tw child loss #dadstiel #castiel #supernatural #spn fic #jack kline

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

Bathe in Sin

Summary: A stubborn Sam leaves the bunker and Lacey goes with him. After days of trying to get through to him, she decides on a different approach to help him blow off steam. 

Created for: @cockslut-padalecki​‘s Decade Under the Influence Challenge

Prompt: “Dressed to kill, you look so right. I am drunk with lust tonight. Your wounds are opening wide, and they might be just my size” - Side Walk When She Walks by Alexisonfire

Pairing: Sam x OC

Warnings: 18+ PLUS ONLY!! Angst, unprotected sex, rough, my unstoppable obsession with how large Sam is shining through here and there

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: This is my first time posting an explicit smut fic. I tried to do the lyrics and the vibes of the song justice. Let me know what you think! Feedback is the best fuel for every writer <3

Beta: @princessmisery666​

|| JJ’s Masterlist ||

(gif)

It was the first night in their third motel since leaving the bunker. Lacey wasn’t sure if Sam was looking for a hunt, or maybe he didn’t want Dean to find them. She doubted Dean would be looking for them. Neither brother was going to concede anytime soon. 

Knuckleheads.

Lacey could smack herself for not having realized sooner how serious their falling out was. She wondered, if she had only stepped in a little bit earlier, things wouldn’t be the way they were now. They would have been home, where they belonged. She would be sitting around the table with the two brothers, rolling her eyes at one of Dean’s stupid jokes while Sam looked at her with that peaceful smile he only got when it was just them. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand why Sam was upset. Dean had lied to him. Again. He said he did it to protect his little brother. Again. Sam got angry with Dean. Also, not new. But this time he had packed a bag and bolted out the door. Lacey had barely had any time to grab her own duffle and follow him.

It hadn’t been her choice to leave home, but if it meant she at least got to be with Sam while he figured this out, she would bite her tongue and get through it with him. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t support Sam. She would die for him without a second thought. The problem with this situation was that it was a waste of time. Lacey knew the brothers would come to their senses and make up eventually anyway. She just wished she knew when so she didn’t have to wonder when she’d sleep in her own comfortable bed again, or get to use a shower of which the water stayed warm for longer than three minutes.

Sam was stubborn. Lacey had figured that out soon enough when she got to know him. Despite that, she fell in love with the man. Maybe even a little bit because of it. She knew he could handle all this. He just needed some time.

She had brief text-exchanges with Dean to let him know they were all right, but the brothers hadn’t spoken since their argument. That was over two weeks ago.

Sam had been on edge from the moment he hightailed out of the bunker. Lacey tried to talk some sense into him multiple times. During the long car rides, Sam would turn the radio volume up to end the conversation. At night in bed, he would say he was tired and turn off the light. The few times she did manage to get him to say something, Sam would tell her Dean was the one she should be trying to talk to. In the texts from the older Winchester, she got the same response about Sam.

Lacey wanted to grab both brothers’ pride and stick it where the sun couldn’t reach. She was usually a pretty patient person, but when she saw the people she cared about hurting because of something so stupid, something they could fix so easily, she got frustrated.

One night, Lacey had pushed Sam a little too far and he snapped at her, telling her to get lost. She hadn’t even been able to turn around to leave before he was in front of her, grabbing her hand and looking at her with regret deep in his eyes. She’d stayed. And Sam apologized a dozen different times that night, in a dozen different ways.

Following that night, Sam seemed to have realized he had to be more careful who he directed his frustration toward. He wasn’t angry with Lacey, he was angry with Dean. And, Lacey knew, with himself, but that was a conversation he definitely wasn’t ready to have yet.

Day after day, Lacey was hyper-aware of how tense Sam was. She had exhausted most methods to get him to talk about it and face the problem. She had to come up with a new plan. Maybe what Sam needed was a distraction, a way to forget for a moment. Lacey knew just the thing to help him blow off steam.

Sam needed to get lost in something other than his frustration. She wanted him to get lost in her.

Lacey was still in the bathroom when Sam came back from his supply run that night. When she came out, he was putting away the last of the food in the small motel room fridge. Lacey walked into the room barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Sam’s large shirts over her underwear.

Upon hearing her approaching, Sam glanced over his shoulder. He frowned and looked at the clock on the wall, before looking back at Lacey. “You’re going to bed already?” he asked. “It’s only nine. I thought we could go into town, catch a movie.” 

Ever since he’d snapped at her, Sam had been trying to find ways to make being away from home more enjoyable for her. Lacey knew he felt guilty, and she appreciated the effort, but tonight she had other plans.

“I thought we’d stay in tonight,” she said. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Sam took in a sharp breath before slowly closing the fridge and standing up straight. Though there was a few feet left between them, he was still towering over her. A disapproving look shone in his eyes.

“Lace, I told you, I don’t want to talk a-”

“It’s not about that,” she quickly cut him off. Lacey’s lips pulled into a conniving little smile. Her finger caught a lock of her hair and started twirling it. “I was just wondering…”

As her voice trailed off, Sam’s eyebrows raised. She could tell he was slowly catching on to her mood, and so she continued.

Her hands disappeared underneath the shirt she was wearing. “I was just wondering…” she said again as she swiftly pulled down the pair of panties that had been hidden by the shirt’s fabric. She bent forward to guide the piece of lingerie down her bare legs. “What you think of these.” When she righted again, it was dangling from her outstretched index finger. “I bought them new the other day.”

Sam took in the laced fabric. It had always been her favorite style of lingerie to wear, and his favorite to see on her. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

Lacey noticed Sam’s eyes had darkened to that familiar shade of lust. She rubbed the insides of her thighs together. Sam still hadn’t said anything, so she continued.

“It’s a matching set,” she innocently informed him as she let the panties drop on the floor. Sam’s eyes didn’t follow them down, they stayed right on her. They watched her pull the straps of her bra down her arms, and through the sleeves of his shirt. They took in the way she reached behind her back and unclasped the second piece of the set.

This time she didn’t hold it up for him to look at. She just gave the bra a quick tuck and let it fall from beneath the shirt, onto the floor at her feet.

A new form of tension hung in the air between them. Lacey let Sam evaluate the situation in silence for a moment. Let him look at her, standing in front of him, knowing she was fully naked underneath his shirt.

She averted her gaze, looked down at her bare feet and started drawing circles into the carpet. After listening to a few deep heavy breaths from Sam, Lacey glanced up at him through her lashes and asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

Sam tilted his head to one side, then the other, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his neck. His eyes moved down from her face to her chest. Lacey knew what he was looking at. Her nipples had gotten hard and were now prominently standing out through the fabric of the shirt. Sam’s fervid eyes took in the sight.

Then he finally moved closer to her. He crossed the distance between them in barely two strides. His hands found her hips and pulled her in. Lacey wrapped her arms around his neck and Sam dipped his head down.

“I think,” he hummed in his low voice, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her back, “you look good in anything.” Bending his knees slightly, he easily lifted her up, guiding her legs around his waist. The shirt rode up her thighs, revealing her bare ass. When Sam hoisted her up a little higher, her cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of the waistband of his jeans. The friction caused a soft whimper to escape her lips.

The build-up had heightened all of Lacey’s senses. She could feel how wet she’d gotten solely from the way Sam had been eyeing her.

“However,” he continued as he started walking forward, “I think you look best trapped between me and the closest wall I can press your pert little ass up against.” As Sam finished his filthy thought out loud, Lacey was pressed tight between Sam’s hard chest and the motel room wall. He put his hands against it on either side of her head and leveled his forehead with hers to look into her eyes rather sternly. “You wanna play, huh?” he said, sounding askew.

Lacey nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Use your words,” he chastised her, his voice hard.

“Yes.” She licked her lips feverishly. “I want to play, Sam. Please?” Her hips bucked against his, desperately looking for more friction.

Sam smirked at her politeness. “How could I ever say no to that?” he mused. “Look at you, so eager for me.”

“Sam,” Lacey whined. She continued grinding against him. There was now an obvious bulge in his pants and she could feel it against her needy heath every time she moved.

She reached for his belt, but Sam was faster. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and effortlessly pinned them over her head against the wall. His other hand grabbed her chin firmly and tilted her head back to expose her neck.

His mouth was on her instantly, ravaging her skin, breath hot and teeth scraping. “I heard you last night when you were in the shower,” he grunted between bruising kisses. “You didn’t really think you could keep quiet for me, did you? I could make out those sweet noises of yours anywhere.” He pulled his hand from Lacey’s chin and it disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was still wearing. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.” His rough fingers found one of her hardened nipples and gave it a nasty pinch.

Lacey let out a sharp moan of surprise. It never failed to amaze her how well Sam knew her. It was true she hadn’t tried to hide her little play time in the shower the night before. She had wanted to give him something to think about. Something to stay on his mind throughout the entirety of the next day, to build up to this very moment. It pleased her to find out it had worked out exactly as planned.

“We better get you what you want,” Sam continued, his hand now brazenly groping her tits underneath his shirt. “You look like you’re about to break open,” she didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking, “and I haven’t even filled you up yet.”

Lacey didn’t doubt his words. She sure felt like it. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she had lost all control of her hips. They just kept bucking against Sam’s body, grinding to find some form of release for the desperate want inside of her.

When Sam let go of her wrists, she climbed a little higher up his impossibly large body to allow him to pull his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprung free and Lacey could feel it probing her ass.

Sam’s hands were gentle yet resolute as he pushed Lacey away from his body. It gave him enough room to pull the shirt off her and reveal in all her beautiful, naked glory what she had been teasing to him during her little show from before.

Before the shirt had even landed on the floor, his hand was pulling his hard length up between their bodies. The tip left some of its precum on Lacey’s lower stomach. Sam didn’t miss a beat and wiped it off with his large thumb before moving his hand up to her face.

Lacey parted her lips without a second thought. In response, Sam’s smirk grew and his eyes darkened further. “Good girl,” he spoke huskily as she sucked his finger clean eagerly.

The salty taste subsided after seconds but Sam didn’t pull out his thumb and Lacey kept her plump lips around him. She never broke eye contact, looking at him with the same lust in her eyes that she saw mirrored in his.

He didn’t need any more verbal communication to know what she wanted, and she didn’t need to ask to know he was about to give it to her.

Their bodies moved in sync. Lacey moved her hips back and Sam positioned himself at her entrance. Her body jerked up when he slammed into her, easily filling her up all at once because of how wet she was. He let out a low breathy sound of approval when he watched her breasts bounce from the movement.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” he cooed in her ear when he leaned closer.

Lacey’s head was leaning back against the wall and all she could get out was a frustrated, “Yuh.” Her hands reached for Sam, blindly finding his long hair and tugging at it.

Sam’s low growl sent a shiver down to her core. Another tug and his teeth were scraping her neck again. One more and he was finally moving inside her.

She could feel him sliding in and out with ease, giving a few lazy thrusts before he started picking up the pace. She had to move her hands from his hair onto his shoulders to grab on tight when he really started pounding into her.

His movements were ruthless, stretching her open wide for him and no doubt leaving her bruised; just the way she liked it. The sounds falling from her lips spurred him on and he somehow began moving even faster.

Lacey wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck tightly, pulling her entire body against him. Her hands slid underneath the collar of his shirt, allowing her nails to dig into his shoulder blades. Sam let out a hiss at the stinging scratches she left behind. She could feel his wicked grin against the tender skin of her throat. He was still sucking, leaving it raw and sensitive.

She let him release all his frustrations, liberate his grievances. And she let him do it all with her. Every movement felt so right. They were both drunk on desire, grunting and panting while their bodies felt like they were on fire.

One of Sam’s hands sneaked its way between them and down Lacey’s front. His large fingers found her clit. He wasted no time starting to circle the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt of deliciously excruciating pleasure straight up to her core.

“Sam,” Lacey moaned into his shoulder, “Baby, I…”

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “Let go.” His hips snapped sharply.

Somewhere far in the back of her mind, Lacey was aware that that was exactly what she was supposed to be saying to him. Then Sam hoisted her up just a little higher and she lost all sense of thought when he hit her from a different angle. Even if she’d still been to her full senses, Lacey wouldn’t have been able to stop herself snapping from the pressure.

“Let go,” she heard Sam say again. Her hips bucked and her body shook as she came. With her walls squeezing around him, Sam’s body tightened against her. She could feel him emptying his load inside of her.

Her name and his praises fell off his lips in the same sloppy rhythm he kept thrusting into her, riding them both through their climax. Lacey’s lips found Sam’s and their deep kiss smothered their moans.

When they pulled apart, Sam caught his breath. He stepped back from the wall and carried Lacey through the room. He didn’t pull out of her until she was hovering over the bed. Then he gently placed her on the mattress. Lacey pulled the blanket over herself as she watched Sam pull his pants the rest of the way down. He took off the rest of his clothes before joining her.

“Feel better?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his beautiful face. The darkness in his eyes had gone but Lacey could still spot a hint of lust remaining.

She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. Then her eyebrows pulled into a slight frown when she thought of how that had hardly been the point of all this. “Yes, but-”

“Me too,” he interrupted her, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. She realized he probably did.

His hand was on her knee, snaking up her thigh until it reached her core, feeling up the wreckage he’d left behind. “But I bet I can make you feel even better.” And with that same grin still on his lips, Sam fully disappeared under the covers.

Let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!

Team Game Face (Everything tags) @princessmisery666​ || @lyarr24​ || @mishkatelwarriorgoddess​

​Team Bitch Face (Sam tags) @samfreakingwinchester​

#JJ's fics #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #supernatural #Sam x OC #sam x reader #spn oneshot #smut #angst #Sam Winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester oneshot #spnfanficpond

[tintentrinkerin]

adelphopoiesis

Author: tintentrinkerin

Title: adelphopoiesis

Requested by: @schaefchenherde

Header by: @wincestismyheart​

Divider by: @firefly-graphics​

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Sam

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Sam Drinks Dean’s Demon Blood, Anal Sex, Not Canon Compliant

Content: Chasing your baby brother around the bunker with a hammer is fun, right? But what if you tickle his thing for blood?

Read here or on AO3

Dean’s most effective weapon is not the hammer he destroyed the door with. The hammer that’s stuck in the wall now beside Sam’s head. It’s not his physical strength, radiating like utter heat from his body, showing in the tension of his neck, the firm grimace of his mouth, his pretty mouth. It’s not the First Blade. A blade powerful enough to kill anything and anyone, but Dean himself. 

Sam’s only weapon is a lousy knife. A demon knife, that will barely leave a scratch on a Knight of Hell. 

“It’s all you”, Dean says, leaning in the knife, leaning into Sam’s half hearted attack. 

The way Dean looks at his brother, it’s tearing Sam apart in so many ways. Ways he thought he’d buried under guilt and hunts and lore and his shame. Sam gives in and takes the knife away, he will regret it so bitterly, he knows. Of course he knows. He can’t even lay a single finger on Dean. The demon in front of him wears the face of his brother but there is nothing left of his soft side for Sam. His voice, how he calls Sam, how he says Sammy, the hair, the determined look, the tongue against his teeth. Like he’s a predator and Sam’s the prey. 

Dean’s eyes turn black.

It’s a whooshing sound and it darts Sam’s ears the moment he thought he’d surrender and then, the First Blade, fast as an arrow lands in Dean’s hand. There is not a blink for Sam to react before Dean looks at him with a triumphant smirk. The knife glides through Dean’s smooth skin of his throat like it’s warm butter. Blood spills. 

Blood

Spills

Blood is Dean's most effective weapon.

Its smell is so familiar, so luring. So intimate and so…powerful. Sam turns and runs. He needs to go. He needs to get away. 

“Oh Sammy, baby brother, don’t run away!”, Dean mocks. 

Shit, he’s right behind Sam and Sam’s judgement clouds already. He isn’t even fast. It feels like running through molasses. The air feels thick and strong, pressing Sam down, and the smell of iron and lust and Dean, oh my God, it’s Dean’s blood! - He needs to get away! Sam manages to worm through the destroyed door to the electrical room, but he catches several splinters. Some even bite his face and he gets stuck with the cast of his elbow. Spraining the right elbow, why, Sam, why did that happen? Everything’s against him. 

Memories of Ruby appear in his head. Of the smell, the taste, her body, the sex. The grunting and the mind blowing orgasm, the banging against walls everywhere they went. The power, the trip. His increasing power, a stimulant better than any human known drug. It resonates all within him with the odor of Dean’s musk and his blood. He can smell its potential, its strong taste. Sam even imagines how it would make him feel. Running away never felt so hard like right now. He remembers the withdrawal and the pain behind his eyes blinds him as he trips in the hallway and tumbles against a wall. Stinging pain in his arm, in his head and his legs feel heavy. It’s like he has Dean’s breath in his neck all this time. Even though he can’t hear him come close at all. It sounds like Dean is far away, in another world. 

“Come on, Sammy, I know you want a sip of it. Makes you all giddy, doesn't it? I can smell you. All of you.”

Sam yells something, but he can’t even make out what he says. 

“Keep runnin’ if you must, but you know I gotta find you sooner or later. It’s my home, too!”

The alarm is blaring again and Sam has no idea how far he can run. There won’t be any walls that might hold Dean back. He’s regaining strength, the human blood wears off. Even that Sam can smell. How much stronger Dean gets with every minute. 

“I taste delicious, Sammy. Just fuckin’ delicious.”

Oh, yes, Sam bets he does, that’s exactly why he needs to keep running. The smell gets even more intense now and Sam wonders how much Dean can cut himself up with the First Blade. He should’ve given the damn thing to Crowley when he had the chance to do so. 

“Stay away”, he croaks. 

There’s another hallway, one leading deep into the intestines of the Forbidden Bunker, how Dean and him called it jokingly, when they discovered it. An area full of locked doors made of the weirdest materials. Only one chance is left for Sam, when he finds that one door he unlocked in these months without Dean. He had learned a lot about witchcraft since Dean left this note on his bed, when he left Sam for Crowley and a life as a demon. When the only way to save himself from Dean was to hide himself in a panic room again, hallucinate again, he would have to do it. He rather sees Lucifer again, Mary, Bobby, all the victims they couldn’t save than to fall for Dean’s lure. Drink his own brother’s blood. This was perverted, disgusting, twisted. Even for them. The monster hunters, the monster fuckers, the monsters themselves. 

“The longer you run, the harder I bleed, brother!”

Sam tries every door on the way, but none opens. Sam’s eyes sting from the smell. What the hell is Dean doing? Covering the walls in blood? That would be insane. Even Dean would faint at one point. It must be impossible to drain a body so much before it dies. Dean isn’t possessing a body, he still has his own, whatever that means for him and his physis then. Sam trips again, he falls, on his right arm of course. He tears up from the pain that fills his chest, his arm, his shoulder. He can’t survive that long if doesn’t find a hide-out. 

It seems to be near, because Sam still can read the signs on the doors and when he finds room 616, he pushes the door open with a long and agonizing cry and slams it shut. It’s the door he unlocked already, a room, bleak as an empty tomb. Cold and pitchblack, there’s no electrical light, just candles, but Sam won’t be able to find them. He can just hide in here, pressed against a wall, praying to Castiel, to Hannah. He even cries for Crowley inside, someone needs to help him. 

Footsteps.

The smell of blood. The First Blade scraping on the tiles, Sam knows it’s that. 

“Gotcha! I really thought you’d be a bit cleverer than that. Where’s the fun when you cage yourself like a mouse?”

The door bursts open, way too easily. None of the sigils and runes seem to be an obstacle for Dean. And when light shines in the room and Sam can see not only Dean’s silhouette but also his face, he knows. Dean is covered in his own blood. His face, his slit throat, still pumping blood in long and rhythmic spurts from the wound. His arms are drenched in blood and now, with a biting smile, Dean looks at Sam and the Blade carves an S in Dean’s arm. 

“Come here, Sammy. Come to your big bro and lemme get you something real good

The stench is so intense now that Sam first vomits in violent jerks and then faints. The last thing he sees before the world turns completely black is Dean’s triumphant, sweet smile and his eyes. His normal green eyes. 

When Sam awakes again, he is tied up. Bound to a chair. They’re in the dungeon again, how did Sam come here? His head aches like it’s been run over by a stampede of bulls and his mouth tastes like vomit and blood. He tenses immediately as he’s present enough to realize his situation. Dean has tied him up here, and now he’s sitting on the desk in one corner, right beside the blood donor box that Sam got from the hospital. His legs swing and he hums a strange melody. 

“Oh, look who’s up.”

Dean jumps on his feet. Sam can see the First Blade, the damn Blade, resting on the table. Then Dean takes the syringes of human blood and starts spilling them. 

“You won’t need them anymore, Sammy. I think I won our little chase.”

“Dean, don’t do that… please. I can still…”

Dean hisses. His eyes turn black.

“You can still what, brother dearest? I already told you. I am what I am now, I am free. I’m finally free. Of humanity. I’m strong now. Efficient. Deadly.”

Sam winces when he moves in the ties. The ropes cut in his flesh and Dean removed the sling on his arm. His elbow hurts so much, it’s taking his words away. 

“You were deadly before already. The Mark made you powerful.” 

“But guess what, I’m even better now. Dean Winchester 2.0 - I’m all in for my upgrade. You see it as a bad thing, but what I see is … potential. Chances. Oh Sammy, I can conquer the world. Hell. Heaven. You really want the boring Dean back, huh?”

Sam shakes his head but that makes him feel dizzy, he stops.

“I want my brother back. The brother I loved.”

Dean’s black eyes target Sam like he’s prey again and he hates being looked at like this. It makes him feel less human, less Dean’s brother.

“I am your brother. Nothing ever changed that. But I told you to stay away from me, I told you not to look for me. But you did. You plotted against me, with Crowley, with Cas. You tied me up in this chair, you tortured me with human blood. Against my will. For someone who’s all over the place with autonomy and respecting boundaries you violated mine just perfectly.”

Sam squirms. The problem is that Dean is right. But Sam did it for the greater cause, didn’t he? Dean becoming human again was the best for everyone!

“You make me sound like the bad guy here, that’s not fair”, Sam mutters.

Dean laughs and it’s a deep, rough laugh that makes Sam’s skin crawl. This is so much Dean, even darker than usual. And it shakes Sam to the core. 

“Good, bad… Who cares. Human categories, bullshit. Nothing’s fair, Sam.”

“I need something to drink”, Sam says faintly now. 

He won’t make Dean untie him, that’s for sure, but maybe Cas will come to the rescue soon, he can maybe delay things. Also he needs to get rid of the taste of old blood in his mouth. Dean doesn’t reek of his blood that bad anymore, Sam is very much aware of the pink line across Dean’s throat. A scar. The blade will cause scars. Or at least the weapon delays even Dean’s healing. 

Dean smiles. 

“Sure. But why waste water on you when I kill you anyway?”

Sam’s heart sinks.

“Will you?”

Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit at all.

“Thinking about it. But you’re my brother, as you keep on reminding me. Maybe I should give you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and let you live?”

“And how would you do that?”, Sam asks, winding in his ties. 

Dean goes away. Doesn’t say another word. Sam is stunned and damn, holy shit, he’s afraid. Dean will kill him. But what is it with the possibility of letting him live?

The smell of iron. Like a perfume, soft and silky. No. No no no.

“Dean? Dean!”, Sam cries and fights the restraints harder.

He did it again. He slit his fucking throat, Sam knows it. And this time, he won’t be able to run, he won’t be able to fight back. He’s tied up, he’s in pain, he’s weak. It’s not like with the other hunters who wanted to force him to drink demon blood. He could fight them off, but now?

Emaciated. Sick. Depressed. A broken arm. Hungry. Tied up. The addiction is pulsating through his veins, giving him the chills. It’s hot and cold at the same time. Like crackling in the air, the heavy scent of blood and Dean, he can only say no.

Dean won’t take a no, why should he? He’s a Knight of Hell. Sam is human. His brother is back, his throat cut deep enough to see the structures of muscles, veins, nerves, his trachea, the pulsing blood. Sam vomits all over his shirt, but there’s not much left except bitter, yellow gall. 

“You’re sick, huh?”, Dean coos in a voice like he did when Sam was younger. It’s meant for comfort but now it just feels like mockery and Sam wonders how he deserves to see his brother slit his throat, twice, just to seduce Sam to drink it. It's so fucked up. It’s low, even for lean, mean Dean. Human Dean would’ve never provoked Sam’s demon blood addiction. 

Sam nuzzles against the hand that’s stroking his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips tremble. 

“Let me make you feel better, don’t pull away, Sammy…”

Sam cries out and some ugly big tears fall down his face. Is it so easy to break? He’s gone through so much pain already, through torture, rape, withdrawal. He was betrayed by everyone he loved, especially Dean. Dean’s hand is warm, but his skin feels like marble when Sam leans in, rubs his face in the palm of Dean’s hand. Is this still his brother? Is there any humanity left? 

But what would that change? They’re here now. In a bunker soaked with demon blood, Sam is tied up, Dean reigns. 

“Hush, hush”, Dean purrs, both of his hands holding Sam’s bobbing head. “It’s gonna be alright… Sammy, just give in. There will be no more pain, just us. You and me, against the world. Like it used to be.”

Sam opens his eyes but all he sees is blurry and red, it stinks of iron and vomit and Dean’s black eyes…

“I wanna see your normal eyes”, is all Sam can say right now.

A smirk.

“Anything for you, Sammy.”

And Dean’s eyes flash back to green and Sam can have the illusion of his brother just for a moment longer. Thick dark blood is pulsing out of Dean’s cut on his throat. 

“It looks disgusting, Dee.”

Dean only laughs.

“It’s not supposed to be beautiful.”

Dean cups his hand before the dripping wound, collects a tiny lake of blood in his hand and then, gently presses his blood covered hand against Sam’s lips. 

The world turns upside down. Sam feels the spinning, the spinning, the spinning!

The taste makes him want to barf, violently, but the old creature, the blood sucking monster was waiting patiently beneath the surface. Patient but greedy. Now it’s unleashed it bursts out and the first drops, he swallows. His lips limp and curled in utter disgust, but now, oh now, there’s a jolt running through his body, he sits straight up, first ties grinding, the ropes won’t last. The shackles won’t last. 

“Come on, sweet baby boy, you want more…” Dean sings, eyes black as the night. 

And slowly, very slowly and enjoying, Sam’s lips brush Dean’s hand, collect the blood, a tongue, pink, hot sneaks out, licks the offered hand. 

The ropes break. The pain in Sam’s arm fades. It’s a movement even Dean didn’t see coming when Sam bursts out of all restraints he put on him and grips Dean’s hand tight, as tight as possible and sucks three of Dean’s fingers dry. 

The Knight of Hell rejoices, pulls Sam close, closer than they’ve been for a very long time.

“That’s it, Sammy, yes, that’s it, let me take care of you… such a greedy boy…” 

Dean’s voice is distant to Sam, distorted and hollow, he remembers their youth, the motel rooms, the flickering lights, the old tv, how Dean smelled of whiskey and beer. John’s passed out in an armchair, stained in blood, piss and vomit. 

He remembers Dean’s care. The kisses at night, the stealthy handjobs in the shower, how Dean ‘taught’ him how people do it. 

Make love. 

Sam was twelve. Dean was sixteen. And he was a grower. 

A slut. 

All of this drenched in velvety red tint.

The ritual.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy…”

“I love you, Dee.”

“Never tell anyone.”

And Sam never had told anyone (but Lucifer knew - he knew everything) and deep down, buried in his mind, these feelings were in peaceful slumber, violently dragged across the floor now, kicking and crying, 

A W A K E

Sam is awake. 

He remembers the awkward, painful, dry fuck in the back of the Impala after they killed the Wendigo, so long ago, and how they never ever said a word. 

Spit is shitty lube.

So is blood.

It roars. The monster roars in Sam’s chest. It’s in agony, it’s in joy, it’s free! 

And Sam is just a puppet, always been nothing more than a puppet. He watches himself suck Dean’s fingers, then sticking his own fingers in the wound, stir it, stir Dean’s insides. The gurgling, the retching. Dean’s satisfied moans, his hands all over Sam’s now healed body. 

“Yes, Sammy, let it all out, come on… Let it all out.”

Sam only hisses. This blood, Dean’s blood, the blood of a demon, of a Knight. It’s so much more potent than Ruby’s or any other demon’s he’s ever drank and tasted. Dean is delicious. Demon tend to taste like rotting meat, titan arum aroma.

But Dean tastes of all the good things. Dahlia, petrichor, amber. His musk makes Sam’s blood boil and his pants bulge. 

“Sammy.”

“Dean”, is the first thing New Sam says. 

What Monster Sam says. His voice sounds low, rough, barely in control. His body is shaking, too much force is withhold now. 

“Brother.”

The wound on Dean’s throat is closing up again already, the healing ability is really incredible. Sam will bite it open very, very soon, but first… 

Dean doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight back at all when Sam slams him down to the ground like he weighs nothing. There’s the crunchy sound of maybe, bones breaking, or just getting sprained, but even that, Dean will heal in no time. Dean lies on his stomach, attempts to get up. 

“Sammy-”

“Sammy is not here right now.”

There’s no surprise, no scare in Dean’s voice. Sam stomps his bare foot in Dean’s back and Dean stays, doesn’t even breathe. The adrenaline rush in Sam’s ears makes him deaf for most other things and seeing demon Dean down on his stomach, defeated so easily, it’s almost an insult. Sam crouches down, one foot still on Dean’s back, pressing him down. 

“You surrender?”, Sam asks, eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t mean to fight you at all.”

Dean chuckles, his voice raspy

Sam drags Dean on all fours, rips apart his shirt (the pretty red shirt, ruined with blood anyway) and Jeans and when he holds Dean’s hips, bends over and bites Dean’s neck, Dean hisses “Come on, Sammy, that’s it.”

That’s it.

Sam tears apart skin, Dean’s blood gushes in Sam’s mouth, warm and silky, smooth and delicious. 

“Is that what you wanted?”, Sam says in a breathless moment, before he starts sucking the wound dry, the bleeding will stop soon, way too soon for Sam to be satisfied. 

Dean growls deeply, pushes against Sam. Pleading. Sam pushes two fingers inside Dean, but feels very quickly, Dean doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He needs Sam. He rips off his jeans, down to his knees and when that’s not giving him enough space, he just tears it to shreds completely. Dean’s ass is perfect. Round, juicy, firm. When he gives it a slap - a hard one - he enjoys the noise Dean makes. And then he thrusts completely inside, without hesitation. No foreplay. No gentle feeling ahead and preparing Dean’s wonderfully tight and delicious ass. He feels amazing, hot, tight, smooth. Dean hands grip Sam’s wrists tight while he fucks into him, raw, without anything to soothe the pain, make it easier, make Dean nice, slick and wet. But he doesn’t complain at all. 

“That’s it”, Dean chants, in his low, low “Let’s finish this game” voice. That’s it, over and over. 

This is no sex Sam would ever have if he was in his right mind. Covered in his own vomit, Dean’s blood, on the cold floor. Not that he has fucked any guy after he fled off to Stanford anyway. Dean is all he knows. He only knows what Dean taught him about fucking ass. 

Dean starts getting slippery with his own blood, Sam’s blood infused spit and finally, cum. Sam loses the feeling of time and space, all he can do is fuck Dean until one of them passes out, and if Dean passed out, Sam would continue anyway. 

The adrenaline rush plummets too early for Sam’s taste, the haze clears up and he’s getting aware of his ripped off clothes, the shreds of Dean’s. The fluids, the smell, the feeling. Crust everywhere. Dean is still on his knees, head sunken on the floor, his arms stretched out, breathing heavily. There’s no sign that he’s in pain. But Dean’s a demon, right? He will be fine. 

Sam drags him up, and the cocky smile, the perfect hair, it’s all gone. Dean looks like he’s had the same otherworldly experience. It’s a sight that makes Sam chuckle. 

“What are you laughing at?”, Dean asks, coming on his feet, gently swaying, but finally his wounds are closing up. 

“You threatened to rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Not there yet, Sammy. Not yet.”

The situation is unreal, Sam feels unreal. He knows he will never be the same. Something’s broken inside him, crumbled - yet ready to expand again, into unknown territory. 

He doesn’t remember the coercion, Dean’s betrayal - or was it Dean’s way of deliberating Sam?

Sam, leaning on the table, watches Dean come close and he leans in, a hand in Sam’s hair, gently pulling. Their kiss isn’t gentle, nothing will be gentle for a while. Teeth clash, the table scrapes along the floor and the throbbing of Dean’s pulse makes Sam rise up again. Dean bites Sam’s neck, sharp pain - and Dean drinks. The feeling is satisfying and roughening Sam up at the same time. He pulls his Knight close, closer, grabs him and bends him over the table, both still bleeding, Dean high from Sam’s blood. 

“For a Knight of Hell, you’re very pliant”, Sam growls in Dean’s ear.

Dean chuckles.

“I just bend the knee to my King.”

Sam frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

Dean hikes up and drags Sam to the mirror in the Dungeon.

“Take a look”, Dean hums, rich and satisfied in tone, “acknowledge who you are.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. First, Sam’s mossy eyes just look glassy, clear, beaming with desire for Dean. 

Then he draws in his breath with a sharp hiss. 

“You got your daddy’s eyes, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes turned yellow.

#wincest #dean x sam #samdean #deansam #demon!dean #sin is sinning #tw:blood #tw:gore #tw:addiction #kink:blood #bottom!dean #powerful!sam #demon blood!sam #yellow eyes!sam #boyking!sam #tw:smut #tw:violence #tw:knives

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

~

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

 It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio.  “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

 “BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

 y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

 “I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

 “51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

 At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

 “Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

 Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

 As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

 “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

 At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

 Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

 The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

 “Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

 At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.  

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

 Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

 Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

 The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

 Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

~

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @anotherspnfanfic​, @megzdoodle​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

#spn #supernatural #spn au #firefighter!au #firefighter!dean x nurse!reader #dean x reader #firefighter!Dean x Reader #dean x reader fic #firefighter!dean x reader fic #firefighter!dean x nurse!reader fic #spn fan fic #spnfanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfic #supernaturalfanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spnfanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernaturalfanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader fic #emergency!

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

#the love it takes series #to exist again fic #to become a man fic #dem speaks

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 25

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, fluff

WC: 2894

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Jesus, she opens the door butt naked and everyone who would have walked past could have seen! What is she thinking? Dean makes himself broader, shielding her with his body and pushes her right into the room. He closes the door one handed, and as soon as he’s inside, she climbs him like a damn fucking tree, wrapping her legs around him and hooks her feet on the small of his back while she crashes her lips on his. 

Of course he lets her. Lets her take everything she needs because he’d be lying if he says that he isn’t needy too.

And it feels so damn good to have her in his arms. It makes him forget how annoying the drive was to get here. Makes him forget how hard it was to drive and thumb at his phone at the same time without her getting suspicious and without him getting fucking killed at high speed.

It was all fucking worth it. 

Y/N breaks the kiss and cradles his face between her palms, fingers brushing along his scruff, “You drove all the way here?” She asks, like she still doesn’t believe that he’s here.

Dean chuckles and pecks her lips again, because he just can’t get enough, “Yeah,” 

“Just to see me?” She asks, while she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.

Fuck, how can Dean say that he’d do so much more for her? That the four hours drive here was fucking peanuts to the lengths he’d go through? He’d drive through fucking hurricanes if he has to.

“Only for you,” He smiles. His hand finds the back of her neck, holds her close and kisses her again, while at the same time he walks further into the room with her still attached to him. 

Dean kneels on the bed, leans down to drop her off carefully, and when he gets back up, he looks at her. Goddamn beautiful thing, all flush and still wet because he can feel the damp patch on his dress shirt where she pressed her pussy against while he was holding her up. Her cunt’s on display and there’s still the stupid toy logged inside, taking his view from her clit. 

Y/N watches him watching her, and she pushes herself further up the bed as Dean begins to shrug off his jacket. He crouches down to get out of his shoes and when he comes up again, he sees her disappearing beneath the covers. 

He starts to laugh, “What are you doing?” 

“Uh,” She starts to say, “I just… it feels weird being naked alone in bed.”

“Huh,” He breathes out, “Does it?” His fingers working faster on his damn fucking buttons, and he wants to tear the fabric off himself, make them pop, but really, coming here was a last minute decision and Dean didn’t pack anything. He left the club right after briefing, right after she had called him and told him how fucking needy she was and now the buttons won’t come off fast enough. He groans in frustration and she chuckles while she props herself on her side. 

“Shush your mouth,” Dean growls as he finally gets the last button off and yanks the shirt from his body before he unbuckles his belt. 

The pants come off easily, the underwear too. His dick is not as hard as it was before though and Dean feels her eyes on him as he tugs at it a couple of times. There’s a sound coming from her throat and he chuckles. He knows that she likes to see him jerking off, which he doesn’t really get. Doesn’t know what’s so great about seeing him do it, but then again, he understands. Mainly because he loves to see her touching herself too.

Before he climbs into bed with her, he pulls down the covers, leaving her exposed and he grins, “Now you’re not alone anymore,” He brackets her head in with his elbows, his body covers hers as he kisses her sweet and tender. It’s different from the first kiss of the night that they shared. It’s all his sweet and caring side he pours into the kiss. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, hands finding his hair and Dean likes that. Likes how she rakes her nails through the thick of it, likes how her hands travel down to the back of his neck and dig into the flesh there some more. 

He parts for a brief moment, pecks her lips, her nose, her cheek, “Christ, I want you so bad,”

Y/N grins, her teeth showing and Dean kisses down her throat, sucks in her skin, draws blood to the surface. He knows that he shouldn’t be marking her, not when she has work things the next day, but he just can’t help himself. Sucks some more, because he wants to. He wants to mark her up, let every fucking last person know that she’s fucking his. And besides, Dean would let go of her if she’d tell him to, but she just giggles and he loves that too, loves that she would let him do just about anything with her. Loves how she’s strong enough to let him break her apart and fix her up again. He really doesn’t know how he fucking deserves to have her back in his life. He was a fucking idiot for not asking her out in high school but that’s in the past, isn’t it? She’s here now and Dean wants to make sure that she fucking stays.

Dean kisses further down, tongue trailing along her chest, licking up the salt of her skin before he finds her nipple and sucks one in. He tugs sharp, driving his teeth into the nub, making her grip on his head tighten, making her arch her back while pulling his face closer. 

He rests his chin on her stomach, while his hand plays with both her tits. He kneads them, jiggles them around, and enjoys the feel of soft flesh beneath the palm of his hands. Dean sucks in a nipple, pops it out loudly before he takes in the other one. He does it so long until she’s giggling above him. God , he likes the sound.

After a while of alternating between her tits, he moves further down, kissing and biting into her flesh, thinks about marking her up some more, knows that she would fucking let him and that doesn’t fucking sit right with him. He still can’t wrap his fucking mind around how a good girl like her wants anything to do with someone like him. He wasn’t exactly a poster child growing up and even now he’s not the best of men, but he fucking knows how to treat a girl like her and that seems to be enough for her. He hopes it is. 

Slotting himself between her thighs, he carefully pulls at the vibe, takes the toy out of her cunt, sees it coming out fucking glistening, slick still dripping off it. Dean takes it into his mouth, cleans it off and groans as the scent of her arousal floods his tongue and his fucking mind. 

He tosses it away and begins to greedily lick at her center, tasting from the source. He thumbs her pussy lips open, groans at what he sees, “Jesus,” He growls, “Prettiest fucking pussy, baby,” 

Dean licks up her cunt and she moans so sweetly above him. Her fingers find his thick hair, nails digging into his scalp as he drinks from her like a thirsty man. He watches her as he sucks at her nub, twirling his tongue around it and hums a fucking sweet melody. He loves to watch her coming apart, feels pride every time she lets him.

His licks get more frantic, and he sucks harder. God, he could spend the whole night just eating her out and not coming himself. He really wouldn’t mind.

It’s getting messier because she gets wetter. Half his face is soaked while the slurping sound is loud in the hotel room and she keens and writhes below him. Her voice is like a broken record player that’s chanting his name over and over again. 

Her legs cramp around his face, and he knows she’s close from the way they tremble, but somehow she’s holding on, tries to prolong the sensation. He chuckles while he laps at her nub, sucks it in and twirls his tongue around it in his mouth. 

“Come,” Dean breathes against her cunt. He’s eager to feel her coming on his tongue because he can’t stop rutting his hard cock against the mattress.

It’s cute that his words are all it takes for her to let go. He thinks it’s fucking amazing, actually.

Dean spends some time licking up her juices after she comes undone, spends some time making out with her wet and slick cunt, because that’s really the second best place he likes to kiss her. 

Y/N’s still blissed out as he kisses his way upwards. She cradles his face when he hovers over her, kisses his wet face and lips, tasting her own juice and swallows it down while her arm wedges between them. Her delicate fingers wrap around his cock and guide it to her warm center. Dean helps by pushing in, sinking his throbbing cock into her hot, wet heat and he has to drop his head onto her shoulder when he bottoms out. 

He loves the feeling, fucking loves being inside of her. Nothing can compare to it, really. Nobody gets him to fall apart like she does. 

Dean moves slow, fucks her deep just like she likes it, but he’s in no rush. He wants to take his time, wants just this, with nothing between them. Not hard and rough, no fucking toys, just slow and steady, deep and heavy. 

Love making, is what it is. 

And he loves that too.

Her hands are digging into his back, nails scraping along his flesh, marking him up and he doesn’t mind. He brackets her face between his elbows, kisses her forehead, works little kisses down to her nose and kisses her lips. She moans his name into his mouth as she comes again, and Dean swallows everything down, every last drop, every last syllable before he grunts and buries his own face into the crook of her neck.

*

It’s almost 1am when he carries her out of the shower and tucks her into bed. He had made her come one more time in the shower, and now she can barely keep her eyes open. Dean thinks it’s super cute. 

While he walks over to his things to retrieve his phone out of his pants pocket, he hears her. 

“Are you going to stay?” She peeks out of the covers, and Dean has to grin.

“Yeah, I am. Unless you want me to leave?” He strolls closer, places his phone on the nightstand. 

Y/N’s eyes are on him, “Nuh-uh,”

Dean chuckles, “No?” He lifts the covers, slides in next to her, his arm wraps around her middle, pulling her close and she lays her head on his chest. 

“No, you stay, please?”

“For as long as you want me to.” He mumbles and kisses the top of her head. 

She changes her position, nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, leaves a kiss on his throat there, right where his pulse point is. Right where she can feel his heart beating fast. 

“Forever.” She whispers softly and Dean doesn't know that his heart can pick up its pace even more. He’s going to pass out if she keeps saying shit like that. Shit that fucking makes him want to propose to her right away, even though it’s been only a couple of weeks. 

And maybe, he thinks, that’s their way of saying that they care. There’s no need for I love you ’s. He knows that it might be harder for her to love and trust someone again after what she’s been through, and he doesn’t need to hear her say it, doesn’t want to rush her into anything. All he actually wants is for her to know that he is, in fact, utterly and ridiculously head over heels in love with her.

Her alarm wakes her from her slumber, and she knows that she has to get up but the realization that she’s going to have to sit into boring lectures and has to listen the whole day again doesn’t really get her going. 

“You should get up,” Dean mumbles groggily beside her and she groans again. 

Y/N nuzzles closer to him, her nose touching his shoulder, “You should get up, too.”

“Me? Why me?”

God, his voice when he just woke up does things to her. 

“It’s only fair,” She says, kisses his shoulder and Dean chuckles. 

“Is that all it takes? If I get up you’ll get up too?”

“Uh-huh,” 

“And if I stay in bed?” He grins, and turns his head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Then I still have to get up and that’s not fair.” She pouts.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but what if you skip the workshop and we stay in bed, huh?” His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. 

“I can’t,” She’s still pouting.

Dean’s laughing. He’s full on laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asks with a frown. 

“You’re really such a good fucking girl. How many times did you miss school, huh?”

She pretends to think when they both know the answer. Hesitantly she says, “Never?”

“Duh,” Dean turns around and gets up. He walks into the bathroom and she can’t say that she minds the view of his naked ass. He really has freckles all over. 

“Where are you going?”

“Getting up!” He calls out, before he closes the door to the bathroom. She waits and hears the flush of the toilet. Seconds later, she hears the water running. She remembers from the short lived stay at his loft, that Dean always needs a shower to get his motor going, otherwise he’ll be grumpy all day.

She drags herself out of bed and walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Dean’s eyes meet hers through the mirror while he showers, “I’d say that you could join me, but I think that you won’t get to the workshop on time by the time I’m done with you.”

God, he’s so cocky about it. And he’s right, they both fucking know it. 

*

By the time they’re dressed, her stomach’s in knots.

Dean’s going to leave and it actually makes her not want to go to the workshop even more. 

While they make their way down the elevator to reach the workshop, Dean leans his head back against the mirrored wall. He’s still tired she can see and grins at him. 

He closes his eyes briefly and squints one open to stare at her, “What?”

“Nothing,” She says, and adds, “It’s just, you look so good in your suit. I should put you on a leash.”

Dean grins back. t’s cocky and she already regrets telling him that, “Well, would that turn you on, huh?”

She can’t roll her eyes to the back of her head fast enough, and is actually very glad that the elevator dings to signal that they have arrived on the ground floor. She walks ahead and Dean runs to keep up. 

“Come on, that was funny,” He says, pulls her close by an arm around her waist and kisses the top of her head. 

He walks her to the entrance of the conference hall where the workshop is being held and cradles her face between his palms. Dean squeezes her cheeks, laughs when her lips are making squishy fish lips, “Come on, smile a little.”

Of course she can’t hold back the smirk and Dean kisses her, sucked in both her lips, making her giggle some more. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Charlie comes running.

“Hi Charlie,” Y/N greets her friend.

“I don’t believe we’ve met?” Charlie turns to Dean. Her friend’s always straight forward. That’s what she admires about the woman.

“Yeah, uh, no. I’m Dean, nice to meet you Charlie,” Dean extends his hand and Charlie takes it, smiles at him. 

“Yeah, uh,” Y/N clears her throat, “Dean, my boyfriend. He’s leaving now. Bye, Dean.” 

Y/N awkwardly waves a hand and Charlie looks from her to Dean and back.

“Ooookay,” Charlie says with a lift of her eyebrow but Y/N couldn’t miss the wide eyes, “I’ll be waiting inside. Bye, Dean.”

When Charlie’s a safe distance away, Dean has both his hand in his pocket.

“So,” He starts to say, and takes one step towards her, bends down to be on her level and whispers into her ear, “Your boyfriend, huh?” He parts and grins that cocky grin at her. 

“Yeah? Aren’t you?” She asks, feels somewhat embarrassed. 

Dean reaches out a hand and cups her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilts her head up a little and she sees the crinkles deep around his eyes. 

He leans down again, his lips inches from hers, “Baby, I’m so fucking far gone on you that I’ll be whatever you want me to be,”

Chapter 26

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

[plus-size-reader]

Robbing the Cradle

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1932 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Dean falls in love with a younger reader, and really struggles with it.

——————————————————————————————————

Dean had put up a huge fight when it came to you, at least at first. 

He didn’t want to be in love with you, and he didn’t want to admit how happy you made him. He didn’t want to but clearly that didn’t change the fact that he had fallen so deeply in love with you that he couldn’t dig himself out.

You were nothing more than a child, at least as far as he was concerned. You were only twenty-two years old, practically still in pampers and he felt weird about it.

After all, why didn’t you want to be with a man your own age? Didn’t you want to have a normal relationship? Why would you want to be with someone like him when someone better was right around the corner. 

Dean wasn’t the most thoughtful, or well adjusted man in the world, and that wasn’t a secret. 

He knew that there was someone who could be better for you.

Still, you showed no interest in anyone other than him. It shocked the man to his core, that you never once talked about what you were missing out on, or wanting to do anything other than what you were doing. 

He just didn’t get it.

From Dean’s point of view, you should have been desperate to get out and experience life but who better to show it to you than Dean? That was the only thing that you ever said when he brought it up. 

You just didn’t understand how he could ever worry about something like that. After all, how many guys your age were going state-to-state, hunting monsters and saving lives?

Dean Winchester was one in a million...whether he chose to believe it or not.

Take today for example, you had tagged along with Sam and Dean to track down a poltergeist that was committing a series of gory murders in a small town. 

It had been a ridiculously stressful hunt, and it could have been dangerous but you had never felt more alive. You were obsessed with the thrill of the hunt. In fact, there was only one thing you liked more.

...And that was drinking. 

You had learned early on that going to the bar with the guys after a hard case was the best way to unwind. There was honestly nothing like it and you had never passed up a chance to go after everything was over. 

Which was good, considering the fact that Dean also really liked to hit the bar when he was stressed. 

...But he wasn’t the only one. 

There were a ton of guys with really hard lives and things they’re running from. Everyone had things they were trying to forget and liquor just aided in that journey. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing liquor did. 

It also made some men lose their tact, which with a beautiful woman around, was never good. It was a bad combo and Dean was really figuring that out tonight. 

“What’s wrong Dean?” you wondered, in a sing-song tone, even going so far as to throw your arm over his shoulder casually. 

The action was a little goofy with the slight drinking you’d been doing but you were in no way drunk. 

You had just been trying to get him to play pool for an hour now and tonight he was practically a bump on a log. 

...It was no fun at all. 

Especially not considering how much fun Dean was when he was in a good mood. You just missed it tonight, and you had no idea what was on his mind.

  “Nothing’s wrong, just got a lot on my mind” he tried, but you knew better. 

He may have been older than you but sometimes his pouting made you doubt it. You and Dean had been together for too long for that to work. 

The two of you had nearly died today and all he could think about was the hunt. It was kind of unbelievable. 

However, you were missing the biggest part of this whole thing. You had no idea but you and Dean weren’t alone in your casual affection. At some point, you had caught the attention of a group of strangers. 

...But you hadn’t noticed yet. 

You thought that there was something wrong with you, or that he was bored of your company. 

“Please Dean? Can’t we just play? I wanna have a good time and forget about the monsters” you begged, your voice nothing more than a purr in his ear. You were desperate for a little fun, especially after such a long and stressful day.

Though, you still didn’t know that across the bar stood that group of younger guys, not much older than you are. 

They’d had their eyes on you since you two walked in, and it was really starting to bother Dean.

He couldn’t stand it. 

Dean had been around the block before, and he had been that sort of guy. He knew that they were talking about him, and that they were weighing their options about what their chances were with you. 

They thought that he had robbed the cradle, and they were planning on taking you away from him...and why wouldn’t you go?  They were young, and built and they could offer you the world.  

How was he supposed to compete with that?

“I’m not really in the mood tonight, why don’t you play without me?” he suggested, waving over to the table begrudgingly. He felt bad about it but he just couldn’t fake it tonight. 

These were the sorts of things that really got to him about the age gap that you two had. Other people constantly had their eyes on you, as if you didn’t know what you were missing out on. 

Though, you both knew that wasn’t the case. 

As far as you were concerned, you weren’t missing out on anything, and Dean didn’t ever get that far. He was fully in love with you, and as long as you wanted to be with him, he would take it. 

...But not tonight. 

Tonight, he just needed to sit by himself and stew over everything that was bothering him. 

It was the way the Winchester men dealt with things, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

You nodded, taking the hint and heading over to the table. Luckily, you were able to reach out to a few people at the pool table and join their game. They were nice, but you found it really hard to take the distraction. 

You were just worried about Dean. 

So worried, in fact, that you completely missed the one brave guy out of the pack who approached you. He had just chugged an entire beer can, and he was feeling on top of the world.

Clearly, that had led him to believe that you wanted anything to do with him. Even if you were putting out every single signal telling him that wasn’t the case.

As far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter if this guy was David Beckham or the queen of England. 

The last thing you wanted right now was for some average Joe to bother you. 

Not that your very clear body language kept him from coming. 

Before you could say or do anything about it, his arm was slung around your shoulder, a clumsy stumble following. He wasn’t smooth by any means, but weren’t too worried about it.

You were a literal monster hunter. You could handle a handsy frat boy that was too far out of his depth. 

Both you and Dean had handled worse. 

“Can I help you?” you wondered, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you shrugged him off, not even bothering to drop your pool cue. You didn’t imagine this would take too much time at all.

The Bozo to your right only laughed, smiling at you with a lopsided grin. “I was thinking more along the lines of how I could help you” he suggested, the words leaving his throat in a sick tone.

It made you want to be ill. 

This guy was a creep and you knew for a fact that he had nothing to offer you. Though, before you could inform him of that simple fact, an all too familiar hand fell down on his shoulder. 

...Because as it would turn out, Dean couldn’t just sit by and watch.

He knew that you could handle it, but he couldn’t help himself. As much as he tried to stay out of it, it made his blood boil to watch someone paw at you like that. 

It wasn’t in his nature. 

“Is there a problem man?” the younger guy wondered, looking at Dean as if he’d committed some sort of serious offense. If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

You could tell that Dean was doing his best to keep calm, which was good. However, you couldn’t be sure how long that patience would last. 

If you knew anything, it wouldn’t be long at all.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but patient wasn’t one of them. 

“No, there’s no problem at all...except for the fact that you’ve got your hands on my girl” he started, his jaw tensed slightly as he addressed the frat boy by your side. 

He seemed just as upset as you could have expected, though he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it hidden. 

“Wait, hold up, this is your girl? Is that what you’re telling me?” the stranger laughed, looking between the two of you with a grin on his face. 

...Obviously that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but you didn’t get it.

There was nothing funny about it and as soon as he said it, you found yourself getting angry. Not only was this guy a creep, but he was also gonna question a man like Dean? 

He must have been an idiot. 

However, before you could step up and make that point, Dean stopped you with a calm glance. 

You hadn’t been prepared for that reaction, but Dean had. From the moment that you two started doing this whole thing, he had been waiting for these kinds of reactions. 

A guy like him had no business being with a woman like you, and he knew that. 

“Look man, I get it...but yes, this is my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you backed off” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t go down that easily. Though, he wanted to give this kid a chance. 

After all, he was just a young guy trying to have a good time and Dean understood that, not that he was going to let this whole thing slide if he kept it up. 

...And of course he kept it up. 

“Oh yeah? You’d appreciate it?” he scoffed, glancing down at you. “Can you believe this guy, honey?” he just kept going, laughing. 

You could have killed him. 

There was only one thing that you knew in this moment, and that was that this wasn’t going to end well.

*Bonus* 

“Are you alright baby?” Dean checked, smiling at you in a tired sort of way. It had been a long day, but you nodded, anyway. 

“I’m fine, are you okay though?” you hummed, returning the favor. He seemed alright, but the bruise blooming on his cheek proved potentially different. 

That jerk had got one lick in before Dean knocked him out. 

Little did you know, but in that moment, Dean had actually never been better.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x ps reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #supernatural x ps reader #supernatural imagine #spn x reader #spn x plus size reader #spn x ps reader #spn imagine