#dean x oc x sam

[shadowtail32]

Domestic (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Just a little moment between Dean and Y/n after a hunt.

Y/n grumbled as she flopped down on the cheap and lumpy bed of their hotel room, “Never again.” She groaned aloud into the musty covers under her body. “Oh come on Y/n it wasn’t that bad,” Dean called from behind her as he closed the door behind him. “I have never hated anything more in my entire life than digging an entire grave by hand only to find out the damn thing is empty.” She hissed removing her face from the comfort of the blankets to glare at him. Dean sighed leaning back against the closed door holding his hands up in surrender. “How was I supposed to know the grave was empty.” He spoke loudly as he returned his own heated glare at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes, forcing her tired body into a sitting position so she could look at him head-on. “I never said it was your fault,” She began crossing her arms over her chest as she placed her feet flat on the floor wincing when she realized that she had neglected to remove her muddy boots from her feet. “I just said I would not be doing that again.” She elaborated with a sigh as she began untying her boots.

Dean’s only response was a hum and nod as he pushed his body up and away from the door, “Fair enough.” He muttered tiredly as he sank into the bed across from her. “Help.” She asked with a pout as she held up her foot toward him. Dean sighed though he could not hide the soft smile that began to form on his lips. “Sure.” He breathed rolling his eyes as he took her offered foot in his hands and began untying them. “Thank you.” She mumbled offering him a small smile as she leaned to the side on her hand.

“Any word from Sam?” She asked after a moment of silence as she watched him work slowly and carefully unlacing the boot. Dean hummed shaking his head a small frown took over his lips. “Not yet.” He answered shortly as he gently pulled the boot from her foot, placing it on the floor at the side of the bed. Y/n hummed placing her bootless foot on the ground, lifting the other into the air. “I’m sure he is just enjoying himself.” She spoke with a small shrug as she watched him repeat the previous actions with the other foot.

Dean chuckled shaking his head taking a moment to look at her before looking back down at her foot in his hands. “You think good old college boy Sam is really going to let loose and enjoy himself in a bar?” He asked the laughter clear in his voice as he pulled the boot off and placed it on the ground next to its partner, though he placed her foot on his knee resting his hand on her ankle.

“Yes, I mean he can’t be college boy Sam all the time.” She said laying back on the bed with a soft sigh as he began lightly messaging her foot. “You never know,” She began in a teasing tone a yawn interrupting her thoughts for a moment. “He may even end up going home with a girl.” Y/n whispered in a conspiratorial tone a small smile making itself known on her lips as her eyes began to droop another yawn forcing its way past her lips.

Y/n listened as Dean began to laugh, “That would be something.” He managed to get out between bellowing laughs, “Want to make a bet?” He asked as he stood up from his bed gently picking up her other foot, turning her lower body until all of her was laying comfortably on the bed on top of the covers. "How much?” She asked as she allowed her eyes to fully close with a soft sigh. “Twenty bucks” He answered softly as he climbed in next to her pulling her to him until her back was flush against his chest.

“Deal.” She mumbled back as she allowed herself to fall into the sweet darkness of sleep.

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean x OC #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #imagine #supernatural imagine #reader insert

[welldonebeca]

Stupid Squeeze (2)

WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Semi-public sex. Dirty thoughts.  Oral sex. Size difference. Size kink. Degrading kink. Praising kink. Unsafe sex. Breeding kink.

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Masterlist

Baby was parked in the darkest spot behind the bar, nearly completely hidden.

If they managed to keep their little flower quiet, it would be easy to hide.

Sam glanced at her face, finding her wide-eyed and flustered.

"You can back away anytime, sweetheart," he assured her.

They would never force her into anything.

But she looked at him, shaking her head.

"I just... I've never done it in a car before," she confessed. "I never had the chance."

Dean chuckled, smirking to himself, and Sam let her go, so his brother could kiss her lips.

"Don't worry," he spoke softly. "We are very experienced."

That they were.

Finally, Lily nodded, and Dean smirked before picking her up, leaving Sam to be the one to unlock the door.

His brother lied her onto the seat, spreading her legs and placing himself right there.

Helen was gorgeous. Beautiful.

Her face was cherubic, her round cheeks nearly as attractive as her breasts.

She was full, at every little bit. Her hips, her chest, her cheeks...

Sam could see himself sinking his teeth onto her soft belly on his way to eating out her pussy very happily.

The moment Sam saw her, he'd gotten a hard-on. The curve of her hips, the way her fat ass looked in that tiny skirt.

He could have fucked her right there.

He was surprised when she pushed her fingers into Dean's hair, taking his mind off of his own thoughts.

"No," she whined. "No more teasing."

His brother lifted his hair, and though Sam couldn't see it, he could feel his confusion, and walked near them.

Lily sat up, pouting, growling.

"I believe I was promised some good fucking," she affirmed, at last.

Sam laughed, but she crossed her arms, pouting and he looked at Dean.

Well... she was right, wasn't she?

Dean chuckled, shaking his head and standing up.

"Alright," he stood up. "How do we do that?"

"The backseat can only fit one of us with her," Sam reminded him. "We'll have to take turns."

His brother glanced at him.

"Alright, there," he nodded. "Let me just-"

What now?

"Hey!" Sam interrupted him. "Who agreed you'd go first?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"House rules, Sammy. It's my car."

He scoffed. As if.

"It's our car," he corrected him. "You just happen to have a monopoly over the driving seat."

They had both been living in that car for their whole lives.

"Well, I'm the oldest," Dean decided. "And I go first."

"No," he shook his head. "That doesn't work like that."

As if he was going to let him take her first!

Dean scoffed, kicking his feet as if he was about to throw a tantrum.

"Dude, every time you go first you are too rough with them," he half whined. "You suck bruises all over them, you bite their tits, you squeeze their hips so hard you leave handprints!"

From the car, Lily whined, and Sam looked over to see her squirming, squeezing her legs together, very flushed.

Oh. Did she like that?

"It's not true," he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

It wasn't like he marked them... too much.

Dean was just too soft!

He would let any girl top him if he was to have his way!

"Dean-"

"Let's just Rock-Paper-Scissors," his brother decided. "Okay?"

Sam wanted to laugh. Asking for Rock-Paper-Scissors just meant loosing for him!

"Sure," he walked to him.

Sam hit his palm twice, thowing rock right as his brother threw scissors.

There.

His brother grimaced.

"Dammit," he grunted.

But he didn't even fight him.

"Fine," Dean crossed his arms. "Just go."

Wait. Really?

No best of three?

But Dean just sat on the driver's seat, and Sam didn't take any time before grabbing Lily.

"Sam," she whined, taking him from her thoughts.

He looked down at her, holding her by her hips, and pressed her chest against his.

Oh, those tits... he could mark those cheeks.

"Yes, sweet flower?"

She pouted.

"Are you going to mark me too?" she asked timidly.

Sam licked his lips, tempted, before restraining himself.

"Let me check if you're ready for me first," he changed the subject, unbuckling his pants.

It would be a little too hard to take off his pants inside.

Sam took his belt off, shoving it into the car, and guided her to the back seat.

But Lily looked at him with hunger, licking her pink lips.

But he knew just how to fuck in that backseat without much restraint.

If she wanted him to be rough, Sam would love to give it to her.

He tugged on his clothes, quickly revealing and freeing his cock, and her hands were very quick to come to take it.

"Oh," Lily spoke softly.

Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him slowly.

"It's so big..."

"Turn around, sweetheart," he tilted her chin up. "Raise your ass for me, will you?"

Lily whined, but complied, and Sam sat back a little as she put her knees on the seat.

Fuck, her ass was so gorgeous. Round and so juicy.

He flipped her skirt, pushing it up, and her panties were buried between her ass cheeks.

"Oh no," he faux lamented. "Your panties are ruined!"

They were. Her juices had made the light fabric all transparent now.

He pulled them off, and shoved them into Dean's hand, knowing his brother enjoyed them quite a bit.

"I'll keep these," he decided.

Sam smirked.

Of course he would.

His brother had no shame, taking them to his nose and sniffing them.

"Wet pussy," Dean hissed, looking at her. "Delicious."

Lily whined, and Sam couldn't hold himself, slapping her ass right away.

"You like it, pretty thing?" he hummed. "Bring a drippy slut for us?"

She arched her ass to him.

"Please, Sammy," she shook her ass side to side. "Fuck me?"

His cock throbbed.

How could he say no?

Sam spread her ass to get a better look at her cunt, and took his cock in his free hand, teasing her folds with it.

Fuck, she was so fucking wet, just so slippery.

He pushed the head into her entrance, pushing in, and her cunt squeezed him right away.

The way Lily moaned should have been illegal.

Sam had no patience, just pushing and pushing, engulfed by her wet walls, until he was fully settled inside her.

"Fuck," he groaned.

He leaned over her, covering her whole body with his, and earn a silly moan.

"Sam," her head fell forward.

"Like this, my flower?" he pressed his lips to her ear. "Is this what your pussy needs?"

But before she could even answer, he pulled back and slammed himself all the way into her.

"Fuck!" she cried. "Yes, Sam!"

He growled, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

"Fucking look at you," he pulled back, slamming into her again. "So pathetic, getting fucked by a stranger in his car outside..."

She moaned, silly, her cunt squeezing around his cock already.

"Yes, Sam," she whined.

"You didn't even care that I pushed my cock into you all bare," Sam reminded her. "Don't even care we're not using protection. You really want to be dripping with cum, don't you?"

Lily gasped under him.

"Oh f-"

But he interrupted her, taking his fingers to her clit and rubbing on it hard.

"Fuuuck," she whined.

Her cunt fluttered around him.

"Stupid girl," he rubbed her. "Just a drippy slut for me."

He was going to leave her all stuffed for Dean.

"Maybe we'll even leave a little gift inside you," he teased her, smirking. "Everyone will know you're a knocked-up slut."

She moaned, and he could feel the heat on her neck, as if she was flushing. Her cunt, though, got wetter and tighter.

Oh, she liked that, hm?

"Sam," she whined.

He kissed her neck.

"Why don't you say it, baby girl," he taunted her. "Say you want to be a knocked-up slut."

Lily shook her head, moaning under him.

He clicked his tongue.

No, that, wouldn't do.

Sam took his fingers from her clit and pushed them into her hair, pulling her head back, making her look at him, and buried his cock inside her, not moving.

"Sam!" she yelped.

"If you don't want to be my drippy knocked-up whore, then I'll have to stop fucking you," he reminded her, mockingly. "My cock is bare inside you, I can't risk it, little flower."

Lily whined, squirming, trying to move her hips under him, but Sam was just holding her.

"You're so mean, Sammy," Dean chuckled.

He looked over at his brother, finding him watching them as his arm moved slowly, her panties buried in his nose.

"The poor girl," he lamented.

Sam laughed, shaking his head, angling her to look at him.

"Look at him," he commanded. "My brother is so sweet, little flower. He'd let you walk all over him. He would let you ride him just so he could bury his face in those tits."

Dean moaned, undoubtedly thinking of it.

"But I'm not my brother," he bit her earlobe. "I want to break you. Make you into a stupid little thing that needs cock to live, that needs MY cock to breathe."

She moaned, her cunt squeezing him more.

"Now tell me, my dumb little flower," he made her look at him. "What are you?"

She whined.

"I'm your dumb slut," Lily moaned.

Sam smirked.

"And...?"

She pouted.

"I want to be your knocked-up slut, Sam," she begged. "Please."

Sam couldn't help himself.

Well, she had asked, hadn't she?

He fucked her hard as fast, the sound of his lips slapping her ass echoing loudly.

"Sam!" she moaned, a little too loudly.

She whimpered around them.

"P-ease," Lily moaned.

They laughed together, and Sam closed his eyes at her squeeze.

Fuck, he was getting close already.

He wished he could stay in her forever.

But he had to be a good brother.

Dean deserved a turn.

Sam took his fingers down again, rubbing her clit as he used her.

"You're going to cum for me while I fill you up," he commanded.

She moaned, silly.

"You're gonna cum on a stranger's cock while he knocks you up," Sam laughed. "Look at you."

Lily's cunt squeezed him, fluttering, squeezing.

Sam pressed his fingers harder to her clit, and he closed his eyes when she came right away, drooling all over Dean's fingers and Sam's cock.

"There you go," his brother praised. "Good slut."

Sam groaned, pulling back from her chest, rising from his spot as much as he could and grabbing her hips, fucking her hard and deep.

He was going to paint her insides, fill her up so much his seed would have nowhere to go but into her womb.

He moaned as he released himself, stopping himself from collapsing on top of her, but holding himself back.

The moment his balls emptied inside her, he pulled out slowly to look at the display in front of him.

Fuck, her cunt was all used, swollen and flushed.

"Wish I had a fucking camera," he grunted. "Would keep a memory of the day we put a baby into you."

She whimpered, face down on the backseat, and Dean pulled on his shoulder.

"Hey, you have your fun," his brother grunted. "She is mine now."

…

“Stupid Squeee” was posted on Patreon on February 2023. To read it now before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

…

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Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

#Welldonebeca's Stupid Squeeze series #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x oc smut #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester smut #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester smut #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x oc smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester smut

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

SPN MASTERLIST

Not taking reqs for Supernatural currently cause I’m writing a series for y’all to enjoy!

we could be more | dean winchester (COMPLETED)

“And promise me… that you won’t blame yourself.”

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | FINALE

IVY’S FLAWS | 1

𝖕𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖕 | 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

Summary: “She’s like you’ve been pistolwhipped.” He bit his lip angrily. “Hits you right in the head and makes it spin. I used to hate it. But now? I’ve turned out like every other guy; had one hit of her and… I’m addicted. So yeah, pretty much.”

PLAYLIST | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | FINALE | Epilogue

𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚂 | 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

#spn masterlist #spn #supernatural #supernatural oc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

[deanoheartspie]

SUN•SHINE COMING SOON!!

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: smut, cussing, angst.

Taglist: (Open!!)

Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

•°•°•°•°•SNEAK PEAK°•°•°•°•°•°

“You look beautiful in that dress darlin' Gimmie a little spin” Dean has a boyish grin, while he leans against the old bed frame.

Giving the cowboy a little spin, with a laugh escaping your lips as you tilt your fake imaginary cowgirl hat. “Y'know I could always give ya' a hat” He stands up, the floorboards creaking at every step he takes while he looks over at his hats deciding on a nice plain white one.

“Why the white one?” You ask, with a hint of a smile knowing he had to grow through his whole process of deciding which one to give you.

“Because after tonight darlin', your gonna be my bride”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester series #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #Cowboy dean winchester #dean x oc #supernatural dean #dean x you #dean winchester masterlist #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #castiel x reader

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit. 

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural season 1 #dean winchester imagine

[topofmythighs]

burning into my mind

sam winchester x female reader

rundown: reader forgets pjs, sexy sam saves the day

warnings: none

word count: 3,759

my masterlist

gif cred:: cantscrubitclean on tumblr

dean pulls into the parking lot just as slowly as her eyes open. every action shared between the three hunters feels - and probably looks - like it’s in slow motion. the hunt tonight was particularly rough, involving two witches who would not give up until they got what they wanted. and what they wanted was sam.

thankfully, he sits in the passenger seat of the impala and readjusts as he notices they’re all back at the motel. he slowly clambers out of the car, hearing a soft yawn slip past her lips. everyone’s limbs feel like they’re a thousand miles long, especially as they try to regain feeling in their legs to get out of the car. dean’s the first to grab his duffle bag from the trunk, sam following.

he grabs hers, too. without a word, the three of them saunter to the motel room door, thankful for the beds - no matter how uncomfortable they truly were.

dean drops onto one of the beds face-first, his jacket and jeans still on. his legs hang off the bed a little, as he’s not fully laying at the top of the bed. he lets out a large groan into the mattress. sam looks back at her as she closes and locks the door, smiling to herself at dean’s expression.

“hated that,” dean’s muffled voice whines.

sam’s eyes widen while he sits at the end of the other bed, taking his boots off. “dude,” he starts. “you weren’t the one being converted into some creepy witch cult.”

dean turns his head out from the mattress to glare at sam. “i walked into that creepy-ass building and lost my gun in two seconds to those bitches,” he complains.

sam’s mouth opens, offended that dean is even trying to win this battle. “dude!” he repeats. “witch cult! minutes away from being their little snack!”

“snack?” she ponders. both men turn to look at her. her head is propped up by her hand as she sits at the uncomfortable wooden table, and her eyes are closed. “you were gonna be their bitch boy, sammy,” she comments, half asleep.

dean lets out a one-note laugh, but she can tell he is mere seconds away from retaliating to sam to claim he’s right. she interrupts dean. “that doesn’t mean you win, dean. “bitch boy witch cult” beats “wah, i lost my gun because of magic”.”

she opens her eyes to see dean huff and stuff his face back into the mattress, and sam smiles over at her. she sends a wink his way, making him laugh with his body. she slowly sits up, stretching her body and cracking whatever joints she can.

“i’m gonna hit the hay,” she says. “i am ready for this day to be over.” dean’s hand fist pumps in the air in solidarity and quickly slaps back down onto the bed.

sam chuckles softly, “i’ll walk you to your room.”

she smiles, grabbing her duffle bag. “goodnight dean,” she says, and he only replies with a grunt. sam closes the door behind them, immediately taking her bag from her and carrying it himself.

“you don’t need to do that,” she says.

he looks down at her as they walk, the smooth concrete feeling cool on his sock-clad feet. “i know.”

her room is only three doors down from the boys, but her heart warm-up at sam’s chivalry. she unlocks the door, happy to feel the warm air of the room. sam rests the bag on the ground, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets. he watches her intently as she ties up her hair, takes off her jacket, and improperly takes her boots off. he wants nothing more than to lay down in that bed beside her under the blanket she brought from home and to feel her body close against his.

she looks at him and smiles. “you okay, sammy?”

he comes to, shaking his head. “yeah. yeah, sorry. just, umm,” he pauses, trying to play his staring off the best he can. “just a long day. tired is all.”

she walks closer to him, and he thinks it’s just to be close to him, but she’s only picking her bag up off the floor. he kicks himself for thinking she was coming near him for him.

“i get that, sammy,” she says, placing her bag on the bed. “i’m sorry today’s hunt was so difficult. if you’re shaken up, you can talk to me about it,” she offers, turning her head to him and smiling. she begins going through her bag as he talks.

“i appreciate it,” he begins, “but you know i’m not one for spilling how i feel and making it everyone else’s problem.”

“you’re not making anything anyone’s problem,” she mutters without a second in between his words. “fuck,” she whispers, erratically digging through her bag.

“what’s wrong?” sam asks, hands still deep in his pockets, looking awkward as ever.

“just, ugh,” she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, exhaustion taking over her body. “i forgot pyjamas.” she instinctually cracks her knuckles, frustrated with herself.

sam frowns at her. “take a shower,” he says kindly. she looks at him oddly, as if he didn’t just hear her. “i have, uhm,” he mumbles. “just shower, i’ll find you something to wear.”

she smiles at him, rubbing her hands over her face again. she sighs, and there’s silence in the room. he notices that she’s trying to collect herself, trying not to blow up. she’s exhausted, he can see it in the way she’s keeping her shoulders up. he swears, if he could, he would wrap her up in his arms, put on her favourite movie, and let her bitch about the day. he knows he can’t - they’re close, but not that close - but oh god, does he want to.

he shakes his head to be-rid his trance. “shower, please. and lock this door. i’ll be back over in, let’s say, twenty, yeah?”

she nods and walks over slowly to the door to lock it when he leaves. he opens the door, and she watches as he ducks through it, eliciting butterflies in her that she tries to ignore. she locks the door and continues to watch him through the window, unable to stop. she breathes in deeply and decides to shower, while sam is in his and dean’s room, searching through his duffle bag.

“what are you looking for?” dean asks. he rests against the headboard on the bed closest to the door, his legs crossed, and the tv remote in hand.

“uh,” sam starts, pinching his eyes together. “pjs, any sort of pjs.”

dean’s face contorts out of pure confusion. “context is cool.” sam stops digging through his bag when he finds a grey henley, a green zip-up, and a pair of black briefs. when he doesn’t answer his brother, dean continues. “the fuck are you doing, sammy? planning to go for a polar dip or something?”

“oh, uhm, no. she - she forgot pyjamas,” sam says shyly.

dean smirks, preparing to tease his brother for all eternity. “did she forget pyjamas, or did she “forget pyjamas”?” he asks, air quoting.

sam wads up his underwear and chucks it at dean, who lets out a merciless “ew!”

“who purposefully forgets pyjamas, dean?” sam asks sternly.

dean shrugs. “dunno, never forgotten my pyjamas before.”

sam rolls his eyes.

“but,” dean continues. “i have also never been in love with my roommate and hunting partner for years on end.”

sam whips his head around to dean, disregarding his neat folding that he’s doing. “dean, i told you not to fuck around with me about that.”

dean’s hands go up in defence. “i’m not fucking around with you, sammy. that chick,” he whistles, “has the H-O-T-S for you, man.”

sam rubs his neck. “dean,” he sighs, his eyebrows turning upwards in sadness. “she doesn’t like me like that. i know you think she does, but she doesn’t. if you had walked her to her room-“

“which wasn’t totally necessary.”

sam sighs again, flipping dean off then continuing, “she would’ve asked you for pjs too. so, can we please drop this so i can go and give that exhausted and adorable girl in the next room over some of my clothes so i can have the most confusing and irrational dreams ever tonight?!”

dean looks stunned at sam’s outburst, but ultimately chucks him a thumbs up. “go for it, kiddo.”

sam puffs his chest out, retrieving the thrown underwear from dean, and gathering the rest of the clothes. he checks his watch to make sure he’s on time, and of course, he is, so he shuts the door on his laughing brother and heads back down to her room.

he knocks lightly on her door, hoping she’s not in the shower and overthinking that something terrifying awaits her on the other side of the door.

she answers quickly, the motel room towel wrapped tightly around her. she smiles at sam, a small blush painted onto her face. she ushers him in, and he quickly sits on the foot of the bed.

“i, uh,” he stammers. “here. a hoodie, a long sleeve, and boxers. i don’t know if you need it all, or even want it all, but i couldn’t have you sleeping in those gnarly clothes, or be in here, and cold, and vulnerable, and-“

she sits next to him and wraps her arms around his chest, giving him a large hug. sam feels himself freeze, unsure if it was really happening.

“thank you, sammy,” she says, noticing he felt uncomfortable, and pulling away from him. her heart sinks, but she tries to convince herself it was just because she was still a little wet from the shower. he looks at her, and it takes everything in him not to melt from her sweet eyes. he hands her the clothes, and she heads to the bathroom to get changed.

“dumbass,” she says to the mirror, letting the towel drop as she changes into his clothes. she can’t believe she’s slipping on that worn-in grey henley and stepping into his boxers. she gently pushes her arms through the sleeves of the hoodie, half zipping it up, and staring at herself in the mirror for a little longer than she should’ve. the bright led lighting in the old, smoke-stained bathroom drowns out the blemishes on her face and the rosy blush on her cheeks. she brings the sweater up to her nose and takes a deep breath, smelling sam and only sam. she smiles to herself, but feels awkward and dumb for thinking this is anything more than borrowing a friend’s clothes. she sighs and shakes more of the water out of her hair with the towel before shutting the light off and leaving the bathroom.

sam sits in the same spot she left him, but now he’s flipping through the television channels.

“hey,” she says, and his head spins quickly to look at her. they smile at each other, blushes painting pink across their cheeks.

“hi,” sam whispers back. “you look, uhm,” he clears his throat. “comfy. you look comfy.”

“i am,” she whispers back. “thank you again, sammy.”

sam nods and pats the bed next to her so she can sit. she sits next to him then lets her body fall back onto the bed. her tops shrink up her body a bit, enough for sam to notice the skin of her tummy. it looks soft, smooth, and warm, and it’s taking a lot of self-control for sam not to reach out and touch it. her eyes are closed, so sam feels less creepy for staring at her. he smiles to himself, his chin resting against his shoulder as he looks back at the exhausted girls he longs to call his. she’s breathing deeply, trying to relax her body. he’s watched her do this a dozen times, but never in his clothes. his mind is racing - thoughts of how cute she looks in his clothes to how nice it would be to take them off of her. he clears his throat once more and readjusts.

she reaches her hand out to sam’s bicep, holding tight to pull herself back up. he swears he has goosebumps, so he’s glad he has a sweater on.

“d’you wanna watch a movie?” she asks, sitting upright again. “i know today was really long, so i get it if you don’t but, i dunno,” she mutters, playing with her fingers.

he nudges his body gently against hers. “what’s wrong?”

she sighs, looking up at him, then back down to her hands. she shrugs. “don’t know,” she whispers. sam bends down lower to hear her better, and she feels her heart beat faster. “came close to not comin’ home with you, bitch boy,” she says, trying to make the sentiment as lighthearted as possible.

sam huffs out a small laugh. “yeah, it was a close one today.” sam sees her nodding, and he can smell the remorse coming off of her. “but,” he continues, and she looks up at him again. he feels butterflies in his stomach when she holds eye contact this time. “i’m here, you’re here, de’s here. we’re gonna watch a movie, chill out, and we’ll just try to move past this, okay?”

she smiles at him, nudging him back. “thank you, sammy,” she replies. they stare at each other for a moment before she looks away, nervous the blush on her cheeks would intimidate him. “this is comfy,” she says, gesturing to her outfit.

sam smiles. “you look really cute.” he comments, immediately regretting it until his unprovoked words are followed by an adorable, girly giggle.

this feeling - the closeness, the looming scent of sam, the fictitiousness of it all - it’s a lot for both of them. both of their heads are spinning, drunk on fervour and starved of touch. their hearts are rhythmically beating to the sound of imagined love, lust, and connection; but, there’s some sort of dense, unbreakable wall that’s holding either of them back from blurting out what they’re feeling.

the sheer density of that wall creates a weight of awkwardness that is heavy on both of their chests, and their minds are scrambling to overcome it.

she scoots closer to sam, desperate to shake off that feeling. once again, her hands find his bicep, and she wraps her arms around it. she rests her head on his shoulder, letting her body depend on his to stay upright.

sam is convinced his heart has stopped, that this is somehow a lucid dream. he can’t let her initiate this closeness and not reciprocate it again, so takes his opposing hand and rubs her head. he takes it a step further as he hallucinates dean’s voice in his head telling him to “man up and show that girl you love her!” he kisses the top of her head, lingering for a second, before whispering, “everything’s okay. we’re all here. no one’s hurt. you’re safe.” her arms tighten around him at his sweet words and gestures, and she snuggles impossibly closer. he kisses the top of her head again, letting her know he’s still there. “uhm, if you lemme shower, i’ll smell a hundred times better. then we can watch a movie, yeah?” she nods against his arm. “i’ll be super quick.”

she lets go apprehensively, pulling away to see sam smiling down at her. sweet sam, the protector of all. “thank you, sammy.”

he nods, too. “find a movie, please. i’m gonna go, but i’ll be back as quick as possible.”

“take your time,” she says, aware that if she didn’t reply, he’d ramble his way out of the room.

he stands up, walking towards the door. “lock this,” he says before ducking again and leaving.

it all happened very quickly for sam, and as he walks back to his and dean’s room, he’s afraid he’s messed up again. he tries to move as quickly as he can as to not leave her waiting for long.

when he swoops through the door, dean becomes guarded, asking sam what’s wrong.

“nothing,” sam says, going through his bag one more time to grab his shower supplies and actual pyjamas.

“what’d you do to her, man?” dean asks, sipping his beer.

“nothing!” sam replies, looking up at dean, his hands full. “i didn’t do anything, de. i need to shower and get back to her, okay? so shut up and keep watching your shitty western movie.”

“hey!” dean yells defensively. “don’t take your shitty pick-up game out on my cowboys!”

“it’s not shitty!” sam yells back from the shower.

he can’t remember the last time he felt so rushed in the shower, but, he feels elated at the same time, so any anxiety he’s feeling from being rushed is immediately counteracted.

within minutes, he’s out of the shower, drying off, and changes into blue flannel pyjamas, black boxers, and a large, oversized black long sleeve. he comes out of the bathroom as fast as he went in. he sits on the foot of his bed, putting on socks that he found in his bag and roughly slipping his feet into his black chuck taylor’s. they slam onto the brown carpeted floor as he wiggles his feet into them.

“remember earlier when i told you politely to not bring up the whole “unrequited love” thing?” sam asks, as he stands up.

“uh huh,” dean mumbles.

“can you do me a favour and bring it up right now? i don’t know if i’m overthinking right now, but you’re like, my automatic wingman, so you need to help me out.”

dean smiles, taking another swig of beer before looking at his dishevelled brother. “i promise you,” dean starts, “that girl is in love with you. from bro to bro, i want you happy, and i know she’s into you. wingman to a rookie?”

sam scoffs.

“i’m not setting you up for failure, sammy,” dean finishes. “i’m serious.”

sam sighs happily, smiling down at his shoes. “i’m gonna go back.”

“thatt’a boy!” dean cheers, and sam hushes him.

“i’ve got my key,” sam says. “so, don’t, like, shoot me when i come back tonight.”

“if,” dean winks.

sam rolls his eyes and leaves his room, briskly walking back to hers. he knocks on the door again, and he swears he feels some kind of deja vu.

she answers the door quickly, smiling at sam. “i haven’t decided on a movie yet.”

sam smiles too. “well let me in, and we’ll pick one out.”

they stand awkwardly near the bed before she asks, “do you, uhm,” she sighs. “d’you wanna sit together again?” her voice is meek, a tone sam often doesn’t hear from her.

he nods, scared that if he speaks, his voice will crack. he sits against the headboard, extending his legs down the bed. she does the same, making sure her blanket from home is spread out over both of them. there’s a significant gap between them as sam surfs through the channels for a movie.

“”she’s the man,” “the big stampede”,” sam lists.

she chuckles. “i bet dean’s watching that one.”

sam smiles and looks at her. “can confirm.”

she laughs again. “did you make sure to tease him about it?”

sam nods slyly, eliciting another giggle from her.

“well,” he mumbles, tired of flicking through the channels. “what do you wanna watch?”

she shrugs. “you could put on “the big stampede” for all i care.” her voice is quiet when she adds, “just wanna be here.”

sam’s smile widens, and his dimples are carved deep into his cheeks. he’s brave again and pulls her head gently toward him so he can lay another kiss there. “here,” he suggests. “come closer and get comfy.”

a deep blush fades onto her face once more, and she begins to play with the sleeves on the green zip-up sam loaned her. her lack of eye contact feeds the fire in sam’s stomach, and instead of waiting for her to do something, he wraps his large hands around her boxer-clad hips and slides her closer. he tucks her into his chest, and she immediately melts into him, burying her face into his chest. he continues to kiss her head, becoming more and more comical about it until she laughs at it. her hand makes its way around his neck, bringing them closer together and encouraging sam to trail his kisses down her face. she keeps laughing, so sam continues, hoping that his brother didn’t lead him astray. everything about this moment feels as natural as it is terrifying for both of them.

“sam,” she giggles out. he keeps kissing her face. “sam!”

he pulls away instantly, at least, as much as he can with her hand still playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. her eyes meet his.

“i need to tell you something,” she says, trying to adjust her body so she feels more serious.

sam nods. “me too.” he licks his lips, and he feels his anxiety spreading to his toes.

“i, uhm,” she says, looking at his lips and back up to his eyes. “i’m in love with you,” she whispers.

sam’s eyes widen, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. he adjusts her again, holding her hips and dragging her into his lap. she clings to his body like she’ll lose him if she lets go.

“not in the friend way, right?” he asks, using his fingers to make sure she looks at him in his eyes. her head shakes, and she bites her lip. sam smiles. “i’m in love with you, too. and not in the friend way either.”

she smiles and tucks her head into his neck as he wraps his arms around her. she presses small kisses on his neck, and he does the same to her.

"thank you, sammy," she whispers against his neck. he nods. "i was so scared today."

he gently shushes her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "i know, but i'm here. we're both here, and we're in love."

she pulls back from his neck, and he admires his clothes on her again. "in love."

he nods once more before placing his hand on her cheek. "can i kiss you?"

she smiles, nodding excitedly before leaning in to kiss him, something she's fantasized about for years.

"in love," she whispers against his lips.

he chuckles, finding the repetition adorable and comforting. "in love."

#sam winchester #dean winchester #honey writes #supernatural #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #sam x you #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester fic

[wildwallflower24]

Me waiting excitedly for my favorite author to post the fic I requested

(But also patiently because I respect that fic writing takes time and that authors have lives outside of Tumblr)

(Seriously though I love and respect every fic author on tumblr, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day)

#atla #supernatural #x reader #oneshot #x oc #mcu #loki laufeyson #sokka #zuko #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #tony stark #peter parker #doctor who #sherlock holmes #tvd #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #andrew garfield #writing #writeblr #fanfic

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics Master List

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Each chapter will have warnings. Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27

More coming soon, when I have time to write. A/N: I honestly have no clue how long this one will be. I'll keep going through, till it does finally end. With the turns it's been taking, I'm not sure how it's going to turn out. :) I love these kinds of things.

Tag List: @djs8891

Main MasterList

#SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn au #supernatural #soulmates #spn fic #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #Dean Winchester x femaleOC #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader

[maddiehu7]

My angel | Castiel |

Chapter 1

"Hey Bobby the phones ringing!" I shout from another room

"Well then answer idgit!" He shouts back I roll my eyes getting up from my comfortable position on the couch walking over to the phone picking it up I see a random number but answer it anyway

"Who is this?" I question suspiciously

"Mia? Mia listen to me" I hear none other than my dead brother speak i stare ahead in shock for minute starting to tear up before realizing it's probably a demon or shapeshifter

"This isn't funny call again and I'll kill you" I say angrily hanging up the phone

"Who was it?" Bobby asks coming into the room but when he sees me crying he comes over concerned

"Hey kid what's wrong" he says in the most gentle voice he could

"Some demon pretending to be Dean called...it was so nice to hear his voice" I say sniffling

"I'm sorry" Bobby says pulling me into a hug which makes me cry more melting into him.

It's been a couple hours since my meltdown and I'm back to sitting on the couch watching tv well Bobby's in the kitchen making something when I hear a knock at the door

"Really again I have to get up" I sigh out but stand up regardless heading to the door

"Wh-" I start to say stopping when I see my brother at the door smiling at me

"Surprise" he says

"I-I don't..." I stutter out but he interrupts me

"Yeah me neither but here I am" he says walking in I slowly grab the silver knife behind me slashing at him with it but he catches my arm putting it behind my back

"Mia!" He shouts but I swing back hitting him in the face

"Mia! It's me!" He says groaning stumbling backwards

"Hey what the hell is going on" Bobby runs in but stops when he sees Dean

"My ass" I say back to Dean speed walking towards him

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait!" He says pushing a chair infront of him holding his hand out I go to push it out of the way but Bobby stops me looking at Dean curiously

"Your name is Mia Elizabeth Winchester your 23 and your my sister our dads John Winchester" he says speedily

"Anyone could know that" I spit back

"Um....ok ok you've never had a boyfriend because dad, me, and Sam wouldn't let you,  um you love books, you rebellious like Sam but worse never following dads orders but staying anyway Because of me, um the scars on your left arm there from-" but I stop him moving the chair reaching out and touching his shoulder he smiles but I go to swing the knife again Bobby pulling me back again Dean swiping the knife from my hands

"I'm not a shapeshifter!" Dean yells

"Then your a revenant!" I yell from Bobby's arms

"Alright if I was either would I do this with a silver knife?" He says pulling up his sleep cutting himself I look at him bewildered that he's not in pain

"Dean?" I say starting to tear up

"That's what I've been trying to tell you" he says smiling walking towards me I immediately pull him into a tight him starting to ball

"Hey hey it's ok" Dean says laughing slightly with relief I just hug him tighter hearing his voice and finally hugging him again after all this time, I pull back after a minute tears still falling down my cheeks Dean smiling swiping them away meanwhile he tears up a bit himself

"It's-it's good to see you" I say sniffling

"Yeah, You to" Dean says coughing subtly wiping his tears

"Hey I'm here you know" Bobby says from the side me and Dean laughing Dean going over and hugging Bobby

"How'd did you bust out?" Bobby says pulling back confused

"I don't know I just uh woke up in a pine box-" Dean speaks but gets interrupted by Bobby throwing holy water on him

"I'm not a demon either you know" he says spitting water out I laugh

"Sorry, can't be to careful" Bobby shrugs

"So tell us everything" I say looking at him expectingly

~~time skip~~

“That don't make a lick of sense" Bobby says confused walking into the living room

"Yeah your preaching to the choir" Dean says back me and him following Bobby

"Dean your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you've been buried four months even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit” Bobby says

"I know, I should look like a thriller video reject" Dean sighs saying what everyone was thinking

"What do you remember?" I question carefully

"Not much, I remember I was a hellhounds chew toy...and then lights out then I come to six feet under that was it" he says looking away from us I look at him sadly

"Sam's numbers not working hes-uh- he's not..."

"Oh he's alive as far as we know" Bobby says easing deans worries

"Yeah just up and left me though in a time of need but yeah he's alive" I say rolling my eyes

"What?" Dean looks at me confused

"Oh yeah I lost both brothers it was real fun" I say with fake enthusiasm Dean just looks at me sorrily

"These months haven't been exactly easy, you know for him or us...we had to bury you" Bobby says looking at Dean

"Why did you bury me anyway?"

"We wanted you salted and burned- usual drill- but Sam wouldn't have it" I sigh out

"Well I'm glad he won that one" Dean says looking down at himself

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow that's about all he said" I say

"What do you mean?" Dean asks confused

"He was quiet...real quiet, then he just took of wouldn't return our calls we tried to find him but he didn't want to be found" i say looking down still missing him even though I'm beyond pissed he left me

"Oh damn it Sammy" Dean groans out

"What?" Bobby questions

"Oh he got be home ok but whatever he did it is bad mojo" Dean says looking at me and Bobby

"What makes you so sure?" I question

"You should have seen the grave site it was like a nuke went off then there was this-this force, this presence, this I don't know but it-it blew past me at a fill up joint...and then this" Dean says taking off his coat lifting up his shirt sleeve I come over curiously

"What in the hell?!" I say blown away by the handprint in bedded in deans shoulder

"What in the hell is right" Bobby says looking incredulously at the mark

"Yeah it's like a demon just yanked me out or rid me out" Dean shrugs

"But why?" I say confused

"To hold up there end of the bargain" Dean grits out

"You think Sam made a deal?" I say nervously

"It only makes sense” Dean says looking at me

"Fuck" I sigh out running my hands through my hair

#supernatural #castiel x y/n #castieledit #castiel x reader #cas x reader #cas x y/n #castiel #castiel x oc #castiel x you #castiel winchester #fanfic #dean winchester #fluff #wattpad #writers on tumblr #sam winchester #smut #sam and dean #bobby singer #supernatural imagine #castiel imagine

[thewinchestersbiitch]

Just finished season 9 of spn and I cannot believe I'm saying this but season 9 Dean annoyed me so much. Towards the end he became unbearable and I understand what was causing his erratic behaviour, but I really wish Sam could've woken him up to reality. Seeing Dean and Cas bond at the end of the season was one of my fav parts.

Plus Sam's hair and Dean's beard, ofc.

(I could rant about this season for days)

#dean winchester #supernatural #sam and dean #fanfic #sam winchester #books #dean x castiel #castiel #spn text post #spn crack #season 9 #demon oc

[zepskies]

Writer Tag

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze! As always, your responses on this were really interesting and got me thinking about my answers. (Here's the original post.)

So these first questions are geared toward Ao3 stories.

How many works do you have on AO3? 48 and counting.

What's your total AO3 word count? Aw geez. According to the statistics page, 1,022,400.

(But I have more fics listed in Tumblr thanks to headcanons and things not yet posted in Ao3.)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Every Loyalty - (Jon Snow x OC)

And So It Goes - (Butcher x OC)

Never Say Goodbye - (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Break Me Down - (OC Version | Soldier Boy x OC)

Checkerboard - (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! Always. I love getting feedback and engaging with the people who take the time to read my work. 💜

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Ooh, it's gotta be this imagine in SPN fandom: "Sam crosses the line." In which he's in love with Dean's girlfriend.

(Sequel to "You are Dean's one exception.")

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Well, most of my stories have happy endings. But probably Never Say Goodbye (Dean W. x Reader). It's a soulmate AU, so very rom-com and fluffy, despite all the drama they went through.

Though I could also say the same of the last story in the Midnight Espresso-verse: In Bad Weather.

Do you write crossovers? No, I don't. I've enjoyed reading a few though.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, unfortunately lol. It's inevitable for as long as I've been writing though.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh yes lol. I'm a romantic though, so it's often a mix of fluff, straight up romance, occasionally dashed with angst and/or hurt/comfort.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge. (I hope not!)

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, but I've received solicitations lol.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yeah, when I was a teenager just starting out writing, I used to write with one of my best friends growing up. (We're still good friends to this day.)

What's your all-time favorite ship? That's pretty much impossible. 🤣 It depends on the fandom! Nowadays I tend to write for OCs or reader inserts though.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? Ooof, nothing recent. But I finally finished And So It Goes, which took me 3 years for some reason. 🙃

Though I do have both a Jason Teague x OC series and a Smallville Clark Kent x OC series outlined that realistically, I probably won't get to. 💔

What are your writing strengths? I've been told I'm good at dialogue and keeping canon characters in character, which is always amazing to hear! I try my best.

What are your writing weaknesses? Action scenes and smut scenes are my biggest writing challenges, though I've been told I do a decent job at them. I know I tend to use adverbs a lot lol (I'm trying to curb that).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? So I try to minimize use of this, but, I've gotten critiqued (putting it mildly) on this before for two reasons. Admittedly, I've had to revise myself in certain use cases, but also, there are slang words and phrases in certain Spanish cultures that wouldn't make sense to another Hispanic/Latino culture that doesn't use the word/phrase. So sometimes, it's not that it's wrong grammatically, but that it's slang.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Oh jeezus, probably Chronicles of Narnia fandom when I was like, 10 and brand new to writing. 😂

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? Ooh a tough one. I feel like there are so many! I do have a story I had outline years ago now for Steve Rogers/Captain America back in the MCU fandom (which I've written in before). But that fandom is a bit intimidating. 😂

What's your favorite fic you've written? Also really tough for me. I think it's a tie between two series:

Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Midnight Espresso (Dean W. x Plus-Sized Latina!Reader)

One totally took me by surprise by how much I enjoyed writing the series and the characters (and figuring out how to write Soldier Boy/Ben 😂).

While the other allowed me to be a little more indulgent with myself, writing from my personal experience and my culture.

The responses on both stories have been amazing and incredibly heartwarming. 💗

No pressure tags:

@thatonewriter15 @waywardxwords @impala-dreamer @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @deanwritings @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @kaleldobrev -- and whoever else wants to join! 💜

#writer tag game #Ao3 #Supernatural #spn #the boys #game of thrones #jon snow #billy butcher #soldier boy #dean winchester #jason teague #sam winchester #clark kent #dean winchester x reader #smallville #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x oc #butcher x oc #jon snow x oc #dean winchester x you #soldier boy x you #favorite fics #getting feedback #on writing #writers who tumblr #writers on ao3 #writing strengths and weaknesses

[supernaturalsbtch]

Would anyone be interested in a castiel x OC story? The story would be based in season 4 when Castiel is first introduced. I've tried looking at other seasons and episodes to see a different time that I could introduce my OC but didn't like any where else. So, season 4 it is. But instead of my girl being related to the Winchesters or knowing them her whole life like how most stories are, she is instead a friend of Pamela's. Pamela calls her to help with a seance that contacts Castiel. My girl is actually a witch of some kind and helps Pam whenever she is in need of it. This is where She gets involved with the Winchesters and Castiel. Over time feelings are discovered and what not lol. So let me know what ya'll think of a story like this :D I wouldn't write every episodes unless the are really important to the relationship of Cass' and my girl. I also would probably add/change somethings in the story just to spice things up.

Can't wait to see how ya'll feel about it!

#castiel #supernatural #castiel x reader #dean winchester #spn #castiel smut #sam winchester #sam and dean #castiel imagine #castiel x oc #castiel supernatural #castiel novak

[welldonebeca]

Stupid Squeeze (3)

WC: 1.7k word Warnings: Size difference. Smut. Semi-public sex. Degrading kink. Body worship. Breeding kink. Praising kink. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Aftercare. Don't be like Lily, don't trust strangers like that.

Lily whined when she felt some tugging by her side as Sam left, feeling stuffed to the brim with his cum.

No one had ever filled her so much, no cock had ever been so deep inside her.

She followed the hand, moaning as she sat down and the cum started leaking, but it had no time to escape her.

Dean's cock was inside her before she could even identify his presence, but Lily was quick to toss her arms onto his shoulders when he sought her lips for a kiss.

They were going to spoil her for any other men, Sam and Dean.

He pulled back, kissing his way down her neck.

"Missed me already?" he chuckled against her skin.

Lily whined.

Fuck, he was so big.

Sam was big, but Dean... Dean was so thick. It was as if she hadn't even had a cock in her, he was stretching her so much.

"My brother made you all messy, I see," he squeezed her waist. "Hear how slippery your pussy is?"

Dean held her in place, pulling back, and trusted sloppily into her.

Fuck, the squelching of her cum filled cunt was the most vulgar thing she could have heard.

They were going to spoil her for any other men, Sam and Dean.

He pulled back, kissing his way down her neck.

"Missed me already?" he chuckled against her skin.

Lily whined.

Fuck, he was so big.

Sam was big, but Dean... Dean was so thick. It was as if she hadn't even had a cock in her, he was stretching her so much.

"My brother made you all messy, I see," he squeezed her waist. "Hear how slippery your pussy is?"

Dean held her in place, pulling back, and trusted sloppily into her.

Fuck, the squelching of her cum filled cunt was the most vulgar thing she could have heard.

"You're just a drippy slut," he chuckled, and she whined.

Gosh, their mouths!

"Dean," she moaned.

He moved back, biting her lower lip.

"You're so fucking used," he moaned darkly, his cock fucking her very slowly. "Wanted us so much you didn't even mind getting into a car to have it."

He took one hand from her waist and grabbed her shirt, pulling it down until her tits were exposed, and she moaned when he put his mouth on her nipple, sucking and biting on it.

"Dean," she moaned, feeling her mind cloudy.

"So bouncy and eager," he moved his hips under her, very lazy.

He grabbed her hips again, and each time their hips met, he made sure to have her tits bouncing.

"You're so soft," he praised. "Those thick thighs, round ass... big tits."

She whined, his teeth brushing against her skin.

"Sweet soft belly, just waiting to get round when we knock you up."

Lily moaned.

Fuck, the idea of getting bred by them shouldn't make her so fucking horny and stupid.

"Look at those tits, Sam," Dean chuckled. "It's like a real-life porn star."

Her face burned in embarrassment.

No one had ever desired her so much.

Sam pushed his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back.

"Our little porn star," Dean hummed, eyes setting on hers. "Maybe we could keep you."

She moaned.

"Yes," she cried. "Keep me."

One night and Lily was spoiled for any other man forever.

"Dean," Sam panted. "We shouldn't."

Was he touching himself?

Dean slammed her down again, and her eyes almost crossed.

"Or we can pay little visits," he added. "Watch as your belly grows."

Her cunt fluttered.

God, fuck...

She was going to cum again.

"Then when that baby is born, we can snatch you up and breed you again."

Lily couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, tossing her head back and crying out as she fucking came just from his cock and his words.

"Look at that," Dean grunted. "She loves it, Sammy. She wants it so, so much-"

He took his hand down, bouncing her just a little bit as his hand moved to her clit, rubbing her fast.

"Dean," she cried.

He moved her quickly, laying her on the seat and lifting her leg, fucking her fast and hard as his finger tortured her, and she couldn't do more than cry, and gasped when Sam shoved his lips into her mouth.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Shut up and take it, stupid squeeze."

Lily wouldn't know where her first orgasm ended and the one right after began, but Dean's was triggered by it.

If Sam hadn't gotten his cum all the way into her womb, then Dean was absolutely doing so.

She was so fucking dizzy as he pulled out, so very slowly, and Sam's lips abandoned her.

She heard so movement and felt him getting her top back to place before he pulled back.

"Hey," Dean panted. "You got any more trail mix?"

She opened her eyes, a little whiny.

Trail mix?

Sam scoffed.

"I have wet wipes and water. We'll have to find food somewhere else."

Lily pouted.

What, no cuddling?

Well... not like there was much space for cuddling in the car.

A hand caressed her thigh and pulled her feet, and she looked forward to find Sam sitting in front of her, and sighed when he started massaging her feet.

"What do you say, baby girl?" Dean spoke. "We can take you for some very late night dinner."

She thought in silence for a moment.

Oh, food would feel good.

As long as she didn't have to get up, right?

"Where to?"

Sam grinned in the dark, and she could feel the car coming to life under her.

"How about some drive-in?" Dean chuckled. "Cause your clothes aren't really appropriate anymore."

Lily looked down at herself.

Her top was alright, but her skirt was just ripped, yeah. No way she could get out of the car without flashing the world.

And yet, all she could do was giggle.

"I'm in."

Sam reached for her, caressing her cheek.

"We'll take you back to your place once you are fed and dehydrated, sweet girl," he told her, very calmly, nothing like the man who had just fucked her stupid. "I have a shirt you can take, I'm sure it'll look enough like a dress and we will walk you to your door." She smiled. He was so sweet.

"Alright."

Sam continued to rub and massage her feet as Dean drove away, and she was grateful when he tossed something over her legs when they approached a lit-up area.

"So, little flower, what can we treat you with?" he asked.

She looked up. Was that Mcdonald's he was driving to? Nice.

"A cheeseburger, fries and a soda, please."

"I think the water would be better," Sam pointed.

Lily pouted.

What? Water?!

But he reached for her, petting her chin.

"If you are a good girl, then you'll drink water," he told her. "You need to rehydrate."

Dean got her both.

Lily had to sit down to eat, and her eyes widened the moment a blob of cum leaked from inside her.

Gosh, why did she feel like she would be feeling them in her for days?

"The seat has seen worse," Dean passed her the bag with food. "Don't worry."

Sam scowled a little to himself.

"Thank you," she opened the bag. "You guys didn't need to do this."

Dean shook his head.

"That's the bare minimum," he scoffed.

Sam reached for her, squeezing her knee.

"What Dean means is that you deserve to be treated well," he told her. "You just indulged us, and it is our turn to pamper you."

Her face burned.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

Lily bit her lower lip, picking up a fry.

"Hm..." she bit the tip of it. "I do have a question for you two."

Sam rubbed her knee.

"Yes?"

"When you were dirty talking..." she spoke slowly.

They said a lot of things. Called her a lot of things.

"Did you not like it?" Dean asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I mean. Yes. I liked it. Sam, stupid squeeze... amazing."

He chuckled.

"Thank you," he smiled. "I thought of it on the spot."

Lily sipped her water.

"But did you mean it?" she asked.

Sam softened by her side.

"We don't think you're stupid," he told her. "Or a slut."

"Or a dumb whore," Dean added.

She squirmed, the words affecting her a bit.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "But... hm... the other bit?"

Dean turned around to look at her, a bit confused.

His eyes widened suddenly.

"Oh," Sam gasped.

The car fell into silence for a moment.

"We don't want to kidnap you," Dean said quickly. "Or hurt you."

She snorted out, laughing.

Well, that was a good thing, she didn't want to be stuck in a car with two men who intended to kidnap her.

"Well, and?" she asked.

Sam bit his lower lip.

"I... hm..." he spoke slowly. "Well... would it be bad if I meant it a little bit?"

His eyes traced her body, and she giggled.

"It was caveman brain," he assured her. "I just..."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

She giggled.

"Well, don't throw me in the trunk, but maybe we could go out for coffee tomorrow?" she proposed.

They were very nice men. Fun to be around, interesting and hot.

And there were two of them!

Where else would she find such a good pair of specimens?

Sam looked at her, interested.

"Maybe-"

Dean cleared his throat.

"Sam, the business trip was supposed to last until today," he reminded him.

Lily looked at them.

Oh, yes. They were from out of town.

"But we can stretch it a little," Dean added, looking a little cheeky. "We won't be missed until after the weekend."

Helen relaxed, resting on the seat.

Oh, come on... she didn't want to let them go!

"Do you have a place to stay the night?" she asked. "You know, my bed is pretty big."

Sam smiled by her side, and Lily knew she had him.

"Big, is it?" Dean asked. "How big?"

She giggled, biting her lip.

"Pretty big," she assured them. "It fits us three."

More silence, and he sighed.

"Alright, then," he decided. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

. . .

“Stupid Squeee” was posted on Patreon on February 2023. To have early access to my work , subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week!

…

#Welldonebeca's Stupid Squeeze series #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x oc smut #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester #dean winchester x reader x sam winchester smut #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester #dean winchester x oc x sam winchester smut #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x oc smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester smut #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester x oc x dean winchester smut

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

MAIN MASTERLIST

ѕρη мαѕтєяℓιѕт

Characters I write for:

Dean Winchester (mainly)

Sam Winchester (if requested)

Castiel (if requested)

𝔹𝕀𝔾 𝕊𝕂𝕐 𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋

Characters I write for:

Beau Arlen (coming up!)

ᴄᴊ ʙʀᴀxᴛᴏɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

i like me better (coming Friday 26/4) - CJ’s been best friends with Alyssa Myles since tenth grade and have gone through thick and thin together. Now that they’re in college, CJ’s struggling with his breakup with Jen and it’s Alyssa’s mission to help. Because somehow, CJ always feels less broken around her.

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x oc #spn masterlist #dean winchester x you #supernatural oc #sam winchester #castiel #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #big sky #cj braxton #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction

[bellamybellamyblake]

When the Sun Sets - Part 3

In-Between

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), sam winchester, dean winchester, alastair

Summary:

the winchesters after the death of the middle child. oh, and hell.

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, vague mention of not eating for a while, slightly suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 8, following canon stops after the end of season 2, but things are definitely going to be mentioned.

Word Count:

2.1k ~ roughly

A/N:

ahhh this one, i love this one. trigger warning for torture. POV switches a few times.

italics = flashback.

dean: 28, morgan: 27, sam: 24

It was all too much.

"I'm not gonna let you go to Hell, Mo!" Sam, the middle Winchester, said as his tears betrayed him.

Morgan wouldn't let them save her. She didn't even let them try. After what felt like a lifetime of them protecting her, she wouldn't accept any more of it. Sam and Dean Winchester used every outlet, read every book they could find twice and called every hunter they knew to find some way to get her out of this with no luck. Their last ditch effort, was doomed to end just end the way they dreaded the most; with the middle child being scratched and ripped to shreds by hellhounds.

She made a deal with the devil. Now her fate was sealed.

“Yes, you are.”

One shot.

The old grandfather clock struck midnight and marked the close of a year, bringing the siblings to silence. It was an earthquake confined to the small room and Dean wasn't positive, but he thought he could see the sound waves as they pulsed and thumped. He could feel them in his bones, leaving them shattered in their wake. He felt his stomach rise up to his throat at the pang. He couldn't control the way his heart started to pound, like it would explode out of his chest.

The demon was next to his sister, and expressed her sympathies, but Morgan couldn't peel her eyelids up to look at her. Eyes the color of the sky had filled with tears, sticking to her lashes. He knew that if she blinked, they'd fall, and the fallacy she'd created - that this case was just a run-of-the-mill salt and burn - would be destroyed.

Then, when she flinched without warning, he knew she was hearing them. Fatal and hungry. Her voice broke through the tauntingly ominous quiet, and somehow it's worse than the damn clock.

“Hellhounds.”

Another one.

Morgan's voice was familiar to her brothers, but it was deeper than usual. Full of gravel, and it lacked the authority it usually held. It was hollow and horse and full of fear, something Sam and Dean didn't want to hear from their sister again. Sam's face was nearly a replica when he spoke, asking how she could hear it, and where it was coming from.

Then they were running. Doing everything they could to get her away from the dogs that wanted to pull her soul from her body piece by piece, atom by atom, back to Hell with them for eternal damnation. They made it into a small office, Sam, Ruby and Morgan holding the door shut, keeping the hounds out while Dean put a barrier line on the floor and windows so they couldn't get in right away. It was a futile effort, maybe it would buy them a few seconds, but it wasn't fucking enough.

The bourbon slid down his throat, smooth and warm, a burn that matched the sting in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall as he let out a shaky exhale and tried to breathe past the tightening in his throat. No matter what he did, no matter how much he drank, nothing would free him from the memory. He knew it wasn't going away, but he was determined to keep at it until he couldn't remember his sister's name anymore.

Morgan's screams echoed through their ears, pulsing and tearing at them again and again until it hurts their own vocal cords. They stared, not making a sound, just watching their sister get torn apart until she couldn't breathe. Until they couldn't breathe. Dean thought that, maybe in some corner of reality, Sam was saying something but his pleas continue to go ignored. Dean could only sit with his knees to the floor - and not just because Lilith wasn't letting him move.

Her blood was everywhere; the floor, the walls, some on his legs. The clatter of a knife hitting the floor went unnoticed. The youngest Winchester's cries as he held the motionless body didn't exist.

There was nothing except the ringing in Dean's ears.

There was nothing but a body that was getting cold and he couldn't tell if it was Morgan's or his.

Who the hell cares how long ago it was? There were some things time couldn't heal. And even Dean couldn’t deny that the past was harder to deal with when the sun sets.

The bartender gave him an incredulous gaze as he motioned for more, it was a look that told him he was probably close to finishing the bottle. A look he had been getting a lot lately. He wanted to retort rudely but even the alcohol couldn't weaken his exceptional ability to keep his mouth shut.

A brush of red hair suddenly entered his peripheral vision. He turned to see a woman, probably twenty-nine or thirty, definitely not much older or younger than him. She wore a sleeveless red flannel tied up at her ribs, denim shorts with the pockets sticking out at the front that barely left anything to the imagination, a light brown cowboy hat with matching boots and a belt. Practically every other redneck chick ever, Dean thought, but I'm not complaining.

Dean sat a bit confused for a moment when the girl didn't say anything. She just stood there, right next to him, too close - in an under-crowded bar no less - to pretend she didn't have any intentions. He guessed that the blonde was trying to put together a coherent pick-up line before she spoke. When she finally decided to talk, her words were kind of slurred together and very accented, but not too much where the eldest Winchester was worried about taking advantage. If anything, he rationalized, I'm drunker. He practically grew up drinking, given his family, and learned how to handle booze early on.

"What's a guy like you doin' in a place like this?"

"It took you two 'n a half minutes to come up with that? What are you? A guy?"

"Hey," She chuckled. "Gimme a break, been drinkin' a bit."

Dean eyed her up and down a second time, making it blatantly obvious he was checking her out. He hummed and nodded, silently giving the girl his approval. "Clearly."

The woman wasn't really clean, with dirt under her chipped finger nails that suggested she didn't ever wash her hands. There was a sheen of soot all over her exposed skin. Which there was a lot of, but again, he was not complaining. She kind of looked gross if Dean had anything to say about it. But she had a nice enough face and she was his type on paper: skinny with an ass, curly hair.

Plus, it wasn't like he hadn't gone a week without showering before. And come to think of it, that had become way less rare over the past few months.

So who was he to judge?

Sam Winchester used to give his siblings a hard time for how much they drank. But honestly? He got it now. As he had his mouth to Ruby's wrist, guzzling down her blood for the fourth time that night, he wondered why he didn't try it sooner. Well, he knew why. Because the thought of ingesting demon blood was foreign to just about everyone. It made him feel alive, helped him forget. Or it at least distracted him enough to the point where couldn't even begin to think about it. Kept his ass from bouncing off the walls when thinking about his sister or the last time he saw Dean became too much. 

He hadn't seen Dean in months, and he almost didn't want to. The two of them were so far removed from each other that by that point, he didn't know how to break the ice. He didn't know if Dean even wanted him to.

He was stuck, picturing Morgan tied up, being tortured, because of him. Because she just had to go and save him. There was nothing he could do about it anymore. There was no getting her out of Hell. He had already tried to make a deal, and he didn't even have to wonder if Dean did too. There was nothing the Winchester brothers wouldn't do for their sister. But the sheer fact that there wasn't anything left for them to try was enough to keep him locked in that fucked up cycle with Ruby.

Hook up with her, drink her blood, kill some demons, increase his skill, repeat.

What else could he do?

Morgan Winchester was dead. She didn't know exactly for how many Earth years, but in Hell time, it'd been six thousand.

The first forty years were doable, being strung up on the rack was doable. The whips, her fingernail's being torn off, the knives slowly cutting away at her. She could handle it. She could even handle the psychological torture, having her hallucinate her siblings and parents, coming in and telling her what they truly thought of her. All things she had already known, and had already believed. But it was when they upped the anti, that she started to crack. It was when demons started doing all of that and more as her family. When they stopped using tools and started using their hands, she had truly begun to break. There was another fifteen years of that.

And when she finally gave up, it had become her job to do it to someone else.

Alastair was a damn good teacher, she had to give it to him. He had been the one to torture her, and he basked in the glory of turning a Winchester into a demon. It took about three thousand more Hell years, but she finally finished the program. Two thousand tortured souls under her belt to her teacher's satisfaction.

Demons started torturing to avoid being tortured themselves. They were the result of going to Hell and having all humanity burned out of their human soul. They were dark, malicious spirits that reveled in pain, chaos and death. Ruby had told Morgan that most demons forgot what it meant to be human. Some even forget that they were humans in the first place. She had learned some demons were true believers, though, in Hell's purpose. To cleanse. And they truly believed themselves morally superior to humans.

But after another thousand years, she started having fun.

She had only wished that by the time she was down there and playing her latest game on the next soul, she could've gotten the chance to torture her father. Get her grimy hands on his skin and tear it off of him cell by cell. Then she heard Sam was down there, too, and she would've been upset, had she not known he was locked up in the cage with Lucifer. She knew she was good at her job, but compared Lucifer and Michael? Even as a demon, her ego hadn't grown that big.

And then she got to pick her own name, and all bets were off.

On Earth, Adriadne had never seen a demon's true form. Now down in the pit, where they roamed freely and carelessly, she didn't flinch at the sight of them. When her soul had started changing, becoming stickier, malleable, and black, she almost second guessed her decision to get off the rack. But at the same time, her memories of her time on Earth were starting to fade. They started twisting into her memories of being tortured - becoming one in the same.

Recently, she had heard a few more things. One; that Dean Winchester, someone she couldn't quite put her finger on, was in purgatory with an angel. Two; that Crowley was not only the king of Hell, but he was granting certain demons passage to Earth for a little joyride upstairs. Three; that he was restoring their old bodies, if in decent enough shape.

Eventually, Adriadne, no longer remembered her real name. Adriadne was who she is, was and what she would always be, for the rest of time. Where there used to be normal human eyes there was only darkness. No pupil, no cornea, no whites of the eyes; everything was just black.

She did remember there were people on Earth that used to love her, and she remembered the physical aspects to being human. Having to eat and sleep and breathe, but not much else. There was something about needing connection with another human that meant something to them, but it was lost on her.

But as she tried to remember the smallest bit about who she used to be, she realized it was pointless. Why would she try to remember when she was powerless? When she had no purpose, no duty?

She figured that maybe a trip upstairs in her original meat suit might be fun. She couldn’t find a reason not to.

Why wouldn’t she take the chance to feel the sun on her skin?

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x ofc #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn #team free will #bobby singer #castiel #alastair

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers: Chapter Six

Summary: Julia and Dean have a wholesome moment after an emotional evening.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Swearing, just fluff

Word Count: 2,436 words

Author's Note: Another smaller chapter, I promise that chapter seven will probably be a thick boi.

Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five

The warmth emanating from Dean, combined with his gentle touch and the ambient noise of the movie, created a cocoon of comfort that enveloped Julia, drawing her into a deep sleep. As the movie came to a close, its end credits silently scrolling across the screen, Dean noticed Julia's peaceful slumber against him. Carefully, he maneuvered to slide off the bed, intent on not disturbing her rest.

Turning to Sam, who had quietly observed the scene unfold, Dean whispered, "Jules had a rough night. I'll crash in her room so she can have the bed here." His voice was soft, a testament to the protective instinct he felt towards Julia.

Dean then positioned himself closer to Julia, his movements deliberate and gentle. "Sammy, help me out here. Lift the covers for me, will ya? I'm gonna move her so she's more comfortable," he instructed, his tone low but clear, ensuring their combined efforts wouldn't wake her.

As Dean carefully lifted Julia into his arms, cradling her with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his concern, Sam complied without hesitation, pulling back the bedcovers as requested. Together, they managed the task with an ease born of countless nights spent in similar, makeshift accommodations.

Dean gently laid Julia down, her head finding the pillow with a softness that assured him of her comfort. He then took a moment to remove her slippers, placing them neatly by the bed, a small but significant gesture of care. Pulling the covers over her, he tucked them around her sleeping form, ensuring she was warm and secure.

Sam, witnessing the scene, nodded in silent agreement, a shared understanding between the brothers that no words could encapsulate. They were protectors, not just of each other, but of those who entered their lives, willingly taking on the night's shadows to ensure the safety of those they cared for.

Dean offered Sam a quiet "Goodnight" before making his way through the motel door and into Julia's room. The transition was seamless, the familiar scent of her perfume greeting him as he crossed the threshold, a subtle reminder of her presence even in her absence.

Settling into her bed, Dean found comfort in the remnants of Julia's scent that clung to the pillows, an invisible yet palpable connection to her. The room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that often followed them.

As he lay there, thoughts of Julia filled his mind, not just the events of the day but the shared moments of laughter, danger, and quiet understanding that had come to define their relationship. Her resilience, her kindness, and the way she fit so seamlessly into their world enveloped his thoughts, a soothing balm to the day's end.

In the silence of Julia's room, with her essence enveloping him, Dean drifted off to sleep, the trials of their lives momentarily at bay. In these hours of rest, the lines between protector and friend, between hunter and human, blurred, offering a glimpse of tranquility in their tumultuous existence.

 –––– –––– –––– –––– –––– OoOoO –––– –––– –––– –––– ––––

As the night's deep veil gradually lifted to welcome the early hues of dawn, Julia's sleep, once deep and undisturbed, turned restless. Stirring awake, she was momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Glancing towards the other bed, she noticed Sam, sprawled out in a peaceful slumber, his limbs taking up the expanse of the mattress, a soft snore punctuating the quiet of the room.

The realization of Dean's absence — and the memory of his gentle care the night before — washed over her. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of his selflessness, his decision to vacate his bed for her comfort, reflecting the depth of compassion he possessed beneath his rugged exterior.

Motivated by a desire to express her gratitude, Julia quietly rose from the bed. She slipped her feet into her fluffy bunny slippers, the soft fabric a comfort against the cold floor. With a plan forming, she remembered the quaint coffee shop she had spotted not far from their motel — a perfect place to procure a morning treat for Dean.

In the predawn dimness, she located a flannel shirt draped over a chair, an afterthought left by one of the brothers. Pulling it on over her pajamas, she appreciated its warmth and the faint scent of detergent mixed with a trace of Dean's cologne that clung to the fabric.

With care to avoid any noise that might disturb Sam's rest, Julia opened the motel door and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The world outside was quiet, the bustle of the day yet to begin, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights transitioning to daylight. Her heart carried a lightness, fueled by the simple act of kindness she was about to perform, a silent thank you to Dean for his unspoken support.

As the early morning light began to seep through the curtains, Dean remained oblivious to the world, lost in the depths of sleep, face buried into the pillow beneath him. The quiet click of the door announced Julia's return, her hands carefully balancing two to-go coffee cups as she navigated her way into the room. Gently, she placed them on the bedside table, a silent offering of gratitude for his kindness.

Leaning over, Julia's touch was feather-light on Dean's back as she called his name, "Dean," her voice carrying the softness of the dawn, a tender attempt to bridge the gap between sleep and wakefulness.

Stirred by her voice, Dean slowly surfaced from the depths of sleep, his first sight the dim outline of Julia standing beside the bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, a look of momentary confusion giving way to recognition.

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, a half-smile forming as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Is that for me?" he nodded towards the coffee, his early morning gruffness melting into a genuine warmth at the sight of her. "You didn't have to, but thanks, Jules. That's... really thoughtful of you." His appreciation was evident, not just for the coffee but for the gesture, for the morning's quiet beginning, and for the companionship that had grown between them in the face of everything they faced together.

Dean sat up fully, his legs swinging over the side of the bed as he faced Julia. Noticing the aged flannel she had thrown over her pyjamas, he couldn't help but flash a cheeky smile. "Is that my flannel?" he queried, amusement lacing his tone.

"I don't know, I just grabbed it off the floor in your room," Julia responded, a playful note in her voice as she gave the flannel a cursory glance, assessing its fit over her frame.

She then added with a chuckle, "The waitresses at the coffee shop thought I was homeless, so they gave me a donut." Her light-heartedness about the morning's attire and the unintended impression it gave off was evident. "But before you get any ideas, I already ate it," she admitted as she took a seat next to Dean.

"Steal my flannel and don't even share your donut. Wow, Jules, I can't believe you," Dean teased, giving her arm a gentle nudge, his tone playful yet filled with a warmth that only deepened their connection.

Julia rolled her eyes in mock exasperation before turning to face him, their eyes locking in a moment of silent communication. Dean, caught in the gravity of their gaze, found his eyes drifting to her lips as she bit them in contemplation.

Breaking the moment, Julia spoke up, her voice soft, "I just wanted to say thanks for last night," as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture revealing her vulnerability. "So, I got you a coffee," she finished, the simplicity of her thanks underlining the depth of her gratitude and the complex emotions of the night before.

As she looked back into Dean's eyes, there was a palpable shift in the air between them. Dean, feeling the intensity of the moment, found his heartbeat quickening, a rush of adrenaline mingling with an undeniable warmth. His eyes locked on hers, and he swallowed, trying to find his voice, which seemed lodged somewhere between his heart and his throat.

"I'll always have room for a cup of coffee, especially when it's with you," Dean managed, his voice rough with sleep but softened by the tender moment they were sharing. His usual cockiness was there, but it was tempered by a genuine warmth that wasn't always visible to others.

As he noticed Julia wearing his flannel, a playful yet affectionate smile danced on his lips. "You know, in any other circumstance, I might have to start a manhunt for my stolen goods. But seeing you in my flannel, I gotta say, it suits you way better than it does me." He reached up, his fingers gently brushing another lock of hair behind her ear, his touch deliberate and tender. The way Julia's cheeks flushed under his touch, the way her breath caught slightly—it was like watching a flower bloom under the morning sun. For a moment, they were caught in a bubble of intimacy, a world away from the chaos that usually surrounded them.

But, as if on cue to shatter their brief respite, Dean's phone erupted into a cacophony of ringing. He cursed softly under his breath, "Son of a bitch," the words slipping out in a hushed tone, more out of reflex than anger.

Julia, observing the conflict playing out in Dean's eyes—the desire to remain in this fleeting sanctuary versus the call of duty—spoke gently, "You should probably take that." Her voice was laced with understanding, yet a hint of disappointment that they couldn't hold onto the moment a little longer.

Dean's eyes met hers, a storm of green that spoke volumes of apologies and what-ifs, before he reluctantly turned to grab the phone from the bedside table. "Yeah, Bobby, what's up?" he answered, his voice betraying the frustration of being pulled away from Julia, even as he tried to mask it with his usual bravado.

In the background, Julia quietly gathered her things, the spell of the moment broken, as she slipped into the bathroom to change. The transient intimacy they shared was now just another memory, fleeting and bittersweet, as they both returned to the realities waiting for them outside their temporary haven.

As Dean juggled the phone between his shoulder and ear, his attention was split. Half of him was on the conversation with Bobby, absorbing the details of their next case, his voice laced with that unmistakable Winchester determination. "Yeah, Bobby, I got it. We'll head out first thing. No, I haven't seen anything like it either. We'll be careful, you know us."

But the other half of his focus was entirely on Julia as she emerged from the bathroom. She was a vision in her high-waisted jeans and black AC/DC t-shirt, the red and black flannel he recognized as his own adding a layer of intimacy to her outfit. Dean couldn't help but pause mid-sentence, watching her move with a grace that always seemed to capture his full attention. His eyes followed her every step, admiration and a touch of something deeper flickering in his gaze.

As Julia sauntered across the room, there was a playful confidence in her stride, a silent conversation passing between them. She winked at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and whispered in a way that was both conspiratorial and tender, "I'm gonna wake up Sam. Looks like we're hitting the road soon, huh?" Her voice was a soft murmur, barely audible over the distance but loud enough for Dean, a smile briefly playing on his lips at her gesture.

Before he could respond, she slipped through the motel door, leaving Dean momentarily caught between the worlds of his duty and the brief domestic bliss they'd carved out for themselves. He returned his focus to Bobby, his voice now carrying a hint of the reluctance he felt at the day ahead. "Alright, Bobby, we're on it. Yeah, I'll keep you posted."

Hanging up, Dean allowed himself a moment to linger on Julia's departure, her presence still palpable in the room. The mix of rock 'n' roll rebellion and the unexpected softness she brought into his life was a contrast Dean found himself increasingly drawn to. With a resigned sigh, he started to gather his things, the weight of the hunter's life settling back onto his shoulders as he prepared to face whatever lay ahead, fortified by the brief respite Julia's presence had offered.

With the seamless coordination of a well-oiled machine, the trio methodically packed their belongings, each movement honed from countless similar mornings. The anticipation of the road ahead to Sioux Falls hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges and uncertainties that lay in wait. Yet, the mood was lightened by the unmistakable chords of AC/DC blasting through the radio, a testament to Dean's unchanging taste in music and a nonverbal pact of their shared readiness to face whatever demons awaited them.

Julia, seated in the back, found a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of their lives. She rolled down the window, inviting the cool morning air to dance through her hair. The wind was a welcome companion, its whispering roar a contrast to the constant hum of danger that shadowed their steps. It was in these moments, with the world rushing by and the music enveloping them, that Julia found a semblance of peace.

Her gaze, lost in the passing landscape, occasionally drifted to the car's rearview mirror. Each time, she was met with Dean's bright green eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. Those fleeting glances were filled with an unspoken language of reassurance, challenge, and a shared recognition of the moment's fleeting beauty. Dean's eyes, so often a mirror to his soul's complexities, now reflected a mix of determination and the rare, unguarded affection he reserved for those he truly cared for.

As the car sped down the highway towards Sioux Falls, the trio was enveloped in the sounds of classic rock, the engine's steady hum, and the world blurring past. It was a moment captured in time, a breath between the chaos, where the only things that mattered were the road ahead, the music, and the unspoken understanding that, no matter what lay ahead, they faced it together.

To Be Continued...

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