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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

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Guilt

Sam Winchester x Reader (x Dean Winchester, sort of?)

Word Count: 1660 what is wrong with me why can’t I drabble

Warnings: Oh boy this one is naughty. Lust curse and the consent issues that come with the territory. Soulless Sam being kind of a dick, because that’s what he does. Filthy smut, twisty emotions, and some degradation-flavored dirty talk.

A/N: @littlegreenplasticsoldier: “With my remaining 5% battery, may I pls request a Dean/Sam/reader threesome but one of them is remote in some way (left a note/on the phone/gave instructions). Xo”

This is... something like that, anyway. Kinda obsessed with the prompt, kinda want to expand on this, definitely could’ve written another couple thousand words here.

ANYWAY. Enjoy.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s bad,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Like, she’s about to go sit on a fencepost bad.”

I squirmed and fisted my hands in the cheap motel duvet. Sam looked me up and down, smirking. It was the feral, sharp smile that I’d gotten a little too used to since his soul went M.I.A; he looked like he was mentally undressing me, and it usually pissed me off, but in that moment I couldn’t deny how much I liked it.

“Look, dude, I know this is the sort of thing I shouldn’t be comfortable saying, but… there’s only one option here.” He paused again, wrinkling his nose expressively. “Quit the prim and proper shit, Dean, just let me get her off.”

He listened for a minute while I waited, rubbing my thighs together, fighting the animalistic urge to spread my legs and beg. It was only getting worse; I could feel the curse clawing at my insides, winding me up with every labored breath.

“Don’t worry, Dean, I got this,” Sam said into the phone. “You can clutch your pearls later. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

He strode over and passed me the phone before matter-of-factly popping the button of his jeans, and if it was physically possible for me to blush hotter, I would’ve. As it was, my entire body felt like a goddamn wildfire.

“Hey, princess,” Dean said gruffly. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm familiar sound of his voice. “You okay with this? It’s just… I think it’ll be a good six hours, no matter how many fuckin’ traffic laws I break.”

I still had my eyes squeezed shut, but I could feel the mattress dip as Sam sat down on the bed.

“Can’t wait that long,” I whispered. “Can’t… fuck, Dean, I miss you so much.”

“Yeah, you have no idea. This is so fuckin’...” He huffed out a breath.

“Can you just… can you just talk to me for a minute?” I asked.

I tried to wedge the cell phone between my shoulder and my ear as I fumbled with the button of my jeans. I heard a low chuckle and when I opened my eyes Sam was staring down at me, amused and unapologetic and totally naked. He batted my hands away and got my zipper down, and I closed my eyes again, listening to the staticky rush of Dean’s sigh, trying not to think about who was pulling my jeans off and settling between my legs. I still had my t-shirt on, and it felt like thick itchy wool on my oversensitized skin, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being stripped bare.

“You gonna imagine it’s me?” Dean asked, low and growly and possessive.

“Y — yeah.” I made a squeaky, strangled noise as Sam slid two fingers up into me without warning, but then I groaned at the tingling full-body shiver of relief, my voice loud and obscene before I bit down on the fleshy part of my palm in an effort to hold back.

Sam started fucking me lazily with his fingers, thumb rubbing my clit every time he buried them in me, and I was trembling already, rocking my hips, trying to hold back a slutty moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Dean said roughly.

“Yeah,” I whined, arching my back and seeing sparks behind my eyelids. “I — nnnnnnhhhh, fuck, Dean, I — I’m so close, this is crazy, I want — I wish it was you. I’m sorry, I can’t — can’t help it.”

“Not your fault. Do whatever you gotta do, okay?”

“‘Kay,” I breathed.

“‘You gonna come for me? Let me hear you.”

For a second I hovered on the brink, trembling and straining.

Then I felt Sam shift, his tongue a soft smooth flicker as it curled between his fingers to taste me. I bit my lip so hard that tears stung my eyes.

“You’re dripping all over the sheets,” Sam said, so quiet that I was sure Dean wouldn’t be able to hear it over my harsh breathing. “Making such a mess… you’ll be a mess, too, by the time I’m done with you.”

I groaned and arched up, coming with the sort of blackout intensity that felt like a free-fall, squeezing around Sam’s fingers over and over.

There was a moment of breathtaking relief, as it started to fade. For a split-second I thought that was it; maybe that was enough. Then Sam’s calloused fingers dragged against something hot-sweet-sharp inside me, and that feverish desire was sparking up again, rising fast. I collected myself just enough to bring the phone to my ear.

“I’m gonna hit the road,” Dean was saying, and I knew he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice was grim and unhappy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, Dean,” I breathed.

“Do what you need to do,” he echoed.

I hung up, tossing the phone away like it had burned me, and let out a frustrated groan. Sam pulled away so that I could sit up and wrestle with my shirt. I felt so fucking empty, and the need to be touched was immediate and overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “This is gonna be a thing for the two of you, huh?”

I let out a strangled laugh, struggling with my bra. “You’re his brother. You don’t think this is a little fucked-up?”

“Not really,” he said casually. As soon as I was naked he was crawling up my body, slinking gracefully, caging me in with all that lithe rippling muscle and smooth skin, and for a moment I just stared up at him, incapable of logic or guilt or anything other than want. He hovered over me, smirking.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accused, clenching around nothing and trying not to look down his body.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you,” he said bluntly. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t imagined it?”

I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m in love with Dean.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he retorted.

My heart was racing. Holding eye contact felt like having my finger in an electrical socket. “God, you can’t be — you’re not Sam. You’re not.”

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

“Sam wouldn’t —” I choked out, but I couldn’t take it and I couldn’t lie any more. I couldn’t hold on to coherent thought with the desperate roaring heat under my skin, like some fierce primal scream was drowning out everything else in my head.

I grabbed at his shoulders, dragging him down against me and hooking my legs around his waist, trying to rub myself against him. He chuckled and rolled his hips, letting me feel the thick length of his cock where it was trapped against my lower belly, and I whined shamelessly, feeling like I could come if he so much as brushed against my clit the right way.

“If you’re so sure I’m not Sam, then what’s the problem?” he pointed out calmly. “One less thing to get hung up on, if I’m not his brother.”

And I was pretty sure there was a problem with that logic, because I shouldn’t be this wet and eager for anyone else, but I was done arguing.

“Fuck me,” I snapped. “C’mon, just — I can’t, feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, just —” I reached down between us, shaky and uncoordinated, trying to get him inside me without putting any space between our bodies.

He didn’t bother teasing anymore, just lined up, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick cunt, pressing in and sinking down. The sharp painful stretch of it registered along with the too-full toe-curling pleasure, splitting me open inch by inch until I wasn’t sure I could take any more. Then he snapped his hips forward the last inch, burying himself in me completely with this grinding, twisting thrust, too fucking much.

“This isn’t how Dean fucks you, is it?” he asked, right up against my ear, hips circling, and for a moment the words didn’t make sense.

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop talking, dimly aware that the mention of his brother should’ve made me uncomfortable, but instead what came out was a needy, blissed-out moan.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” I gasped.

“So stop wasting time thinking about Dean,” Sam snarled.

“Don’t.”

“Best thing about not having a soul? Not wasting time feeling guilty for taking what I want.” He punctuated the last word with a vicious twist of his hips, and electricity lanced up my spine. “Right now you just want someone to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t take it any more. You want it rough and hard and fucking filthy, and you’re glad Dean isn’t here to see you begging like a whore… aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re glad it’s me.”

I knew it was fucked up and twisted and humiliating. I should’ve denied it.

“Am I wrong?” he growled. “Look at me.”

I tried to focus through the sting of sweat and the blurry haze of endorphins. His lip curled, contemptuous, and there was a hard flinty glitter in his eyes, but he still looked so much like Sam that I forgot how to breathe. Sizzling pressure was rising in my core, building rapidly. I couldn’t think straight.

“You’re… you’re not wrong,” I stammered. “Please. Please don’t stop. Feels so good, just — Sam.” I caught a glimpse of his fierce, satisfied smile.

“Are you going to waste time feeling guilty?” he murmured, voice cracking. “Or are you going to take what you want?”

Enough.

I let out a low, desperate groan before surging up to kiss him, and he bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“You know what I want,” I whispered. “Shut the fuck up and give it to me.”

I might not ever get the chance to do this again, after all. Might as well enjoy it while I could.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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hauntedpearl · 2 years

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okay. god, I love that confession scene for what it did for society at large but dear lord I hate despair so much as an episode outside of that one scene. like it's very very clear that they did not think about the charcaters or the plot in context to the story that they had already somehow built upto that point. they basically just. threw an entire season's worth of semi-decent stuff into the trash so they could fit in cas' Big Sacrifice, and honestly, it's so fucking stupid, my godddd

a non-exhaustive list of things about despair that are infuriatingly dumb -

Billie is NOT a villain! As far back as s12, even, their character has always been a very neutral entity. Yes, she's tried to kill the winchesters on multiple occasions, and yes, she lowkey hates their guts for being annoying and not staying dead when they do die, BUT, she also literally has NO SKIN IN THE GAME! Victory is not a personal vendetta here. She really doesn't care if she dies. (WHY WOULD SHE?? SHE'S DEATH!!! like if anyone understands the natural order of things, it's them!!!!) Whatever Billie was trying to do in s15 was an attempt to hold the world together. if anything, they're literally the protagonist of the story!!! but of course, that wouldn't have served the purpose for despair so whoop! character assassination, and dumb shit about infected wounds like istg ISTG why don't angel wounds get infected then when they get nicked by angel blades, then??? god fucking dammit!!!

again, love what the bloody handprint did for society at large and also my own personal brainrot, BUT cas literally just drawns an angel banishing sigil on the door 😭😭😭 I am crying as I'm writing this, I'm screaming into the void like sir??? SIR???? HELLO)???!?!?! (i mean isn't that shit part of the bunker's warding what the fuck my dudes. like okay I get that they got in from the inside or whatever but shit man wouldn't your stupid dungeon hold on its own then???)

okay, so. I know we have, as a fandom, have adopted the headcanon that human souls would fuck up the empty, and while I do love the idea of that very much, I also think it's definitely possible that some insane bastard is definitely sleeping in there will all the angels and whoever else. Also there's that part where Billie threatens to throw the boys into the empty the next time they die so they don't keep coming back to life. So like. canonically. there is a possibility right? so why did dean get left behind? this is an honest to god question that's bothered me for a while now. it's not like dean is exactly in the empty's good graces, and it did take Billie, no questions asked. are you telling me like moving across the room is enough for the empty to leave you behind???? like??? if billie had swerved left, they'd have been fine??? what the fuck??? isn't the empty a sentient entity that's intelligent and vengeful?? so why did it turn into a broken claw machine at the arcade when the deal was evoked?? why did dean live???????????????

And lastly - but this is like the least of my problems tbh I do look the other way quite willingly when it comes to this - the show's temporary amnesia when it comes to these people's emotional problems is so annoying damn. like just an episode ago dean was literally losing his shit and doing all the things that cas' confession of him very directly contradicts. i even made a dumb crack-ish post about it which turned angsty because like..it is!!! like the thing is, they did not have to make dean do half the things that he does atleast from after moriah (like moriah in and of itself is lowkey a point of no return but it can also be resolved (imo) because there's A Lot going on at that point and chuck's reveal is like 0.2s after, and also dean doesn't shoot - which admittedly is like the barest of the bare minimum, but it's still something to build from in context imo- so it's like. not completely unsalvageable. very little to salvage from but STILL. i could see it in the show. and the trap does go some distance is righting the wrongs. as does last holliday a little bit. but unity just undoes everything so wtf???). so like. as much as i do think cas is just that insane about dean and will literally forgive him anything, I also think it wouldn't have killed them to not have unity the way it was. like!! like if they(the characters) were in that position, why didn't cas summon the empty to get rid of the actual antagonist and also save his kid from his misguided attempt at seeking absolution from men who don't deserve that kind of respect in their life anyway??? like there was a way to make the plot work here that would've helped them further the character development and reach a natural conclusion one way or another but THEY CHOOSE TO DO THIS????? STUPID SO STUPID OH MY GODDDDD

essentially, when they say that they wrote this scene first, I believe them because they did not do anything to fit it into the larger context of the season (let alone the show). i mean metatextually, again it's lowkey genius because if chuck is doing all this, then they have The Most Excuse Of All Time for being bad at their jobs afsjwfsjshsjjd. anyway. stupid fucking episode, despair. only saved by misha's heartfelt confession tbh. like they basically did whatever they wanted because they knew people would be more invested in that one scene anyway. (also i did not even mention the sam plot side of things in the episode because like WHY WOULD THEY EVEN THINK BILLIE TOOK THEM like AHHHH that's a post for another time)

#long post #doe is talking again #i am so so so frustrated by these people doing these things #yk how we say that the show lost its plot with s15e19? i disagree. i think it lost its plot with s15e17.#i mean it never really had a plot but ykwim #anyway. this is despair crit..look away also dont come at me #despair #15 x 18 #supernatural #spn meta #Frustrating Things About The CW Supernatural

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littlehollyleaf · 3 years

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you know the WEIRDEST THING about the spn finale for me?

it is NOT the fact that

everything about it straight up (lol, punny) reads as TRAGEDY from my POV

how it is in every respect THE TRAGIC ENDING to the story

in the way literally all of our protagonists get exactly the opposite of what they want or what the narrative built up as best for them

I mean yes - that sucks imo, cos, as I've talked about before, I feel the narrative shifted from Tragedy a long time ago so a Tragic ending simply doesn't fit

but no the WEIRDEST THING

is that while it's very much a TRAGIC ENDING to my understanding

it's being marketed AS A HAPPY ONE?

like, bittersweet yes, but still, so many things are pushing this reading of an ultimately satisfying conclusion in which the in-universe experiences of our heroes are... good/right/hopeful??

both within the episode itself (eg. Dean's various speeches saying 'what is happening is good and right' and the montage of Sam's life and all the supposed paradise in Heaven) and with the various PR comments about the ending continuing to come out talking about how good or fitting or satisfying the end was

so I just...

???

if they wanted a Tragic ending then... fine

I would have disagreed and been overall disappointed but...

damn if my little Tragic loving heart doesn't beat just a ~little bit faster at the thought of the momentary cathartic ~thrill a full on Tragedy would give

if they had just FULL ON EMBRACED THE TRAGEDY, dear god I'd likely have bawled my eyes out

like, idk, showing Dean really struggling over Cas' loss and the culmination of all their battles, showing him happy like in the show with Sam but falling apart alone so we see his apparent recovery is just a show and he's really spiraling back into suicidal - have Eileen explicitly gone as well and maybe all the AU!hunters too? - show Sam dealing by throwing him and Dean manically into hunting in order to cope with his own trauma and try and keep Dean distracted - have some unanswered messages from Jody, Donna and Garth sounding worried - then when Dean dies make it THE FUCKING AWFUL UNFAIR TRAGIC EVENT IT IS with Dean's speech painfully defeatist - zoom in on that job application after so it's super clear all hope of a future that maybe just maybe Dean was slowly starting to claw back to thinking he could have was stolen - have Sam leaving the Bunker mixed in with him giving devastated 'goodbye don't try and contact me I'm done' messages to the hunting network to emphasise how he's once again trying to run away from and cut out that part of his life - then you could basically have the montage of his life as is just give it a less colourful hue, emphasise how unhappy Sam is, how he's going through the motions, living half a life in denial of both the supernatural world and the side of him that belongs in it - and when he dies... heck, skip the scenes in Heaven completely, leave it ambiguous where Dean and Sam have gone... have a small scene with Sam and his son where Sam mutters something about 'hoping' he'll see his brother soon, but we never know... like, maybe they're in Hell... maybe they are trapped as spirits going slowly insane...

just - if they wanted the Tragic ending they could have

MADE IT ~SO TRAGIC OMG

...but instead we have this weird hybrid monstrosity which is trying to be BOTH Tragic AND Happy and as a result manages to be satisfying as NEITHER

and THAT...

that vexes me

I see a lot of (very legit) criticism about how unfair/unfitting/insulting/etc the ending is for giving the characters and story such tragic outcomes

but I've read so many now that I'm honestly just -

I WISH the finale was THE LEGIT TRAGEDY the criticism complains about

because at least ~I might find some satisfaction in that

the problem is that IT'S NOT

I mean it is, but it's not

because the show (and subsequent PR) doesn't TELL IT like a Tragedy

so the more crit I read pointing out how painfully (~poignantly?) tragic the finale was because of x, y or z the more I want to SCREAM not simply because - yes, said tragedy goes against so much of the prior narrative

but because, GOD, each in depth description of the ways the ending is Tragic is really starting to... ~excite me ('Tragedy is my biggest kink' is a tag of mine for a ~reason)

and I cry inside because that's NOT HOW IT COMES ACROSS IN THE SHOW

so now I'm simultaneously frustrated with the finale for being Tragic AND for NOT BEING TRAGIC ENOUGH

ffs sake fml

#15.20 #the aftermath #tragedy is my biggest kink #so if you were gonna be erroneously tragic show #couldn't you at least have the decency to #do it on f ing purpose?!!#... sorry dunno where that came from just ... needed a rant apparently

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sammysmaddy · 3 years

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Goodbyes (Samifer x Reader)*

Summary: Sam's said yes to Lucifer and when Lucifer finds all of his dirty thoughts trapped inside his head, he gives Sam a front seat show to his sister.

Pairing: Lucifer!Sam x Winchester!Reader

Warnings: incest, sister!cest, noncon on two accounts, choking, p in v, angst, crying, biting, blood mentioned, Sammy having dirty thoughts about his little sister ;)

W/C: 4,000+

A/N: Idk where this idea popped out of but I love it 😏😳 :) Also I know that twistedly isn't a word, okay? Edited to the best of my ability because I’m too scared to load smut into grammarly 😂

Masterlist

•••

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes full and wide as they stared up at him.

"I just wanted to see you," He replied, looking down at her as she sat up against the headboard. He could tell she was still half asleep, a little startled by his presence, and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"You didn't?" She trailed on, furrowing her eyebrows and looking super concerned. Sam gave her a soft smile, shaking his head 'no'. As she scooted over towards the middle of the bed, Sam sat next to her, and placed his hand on her thigh in a sense to reassure her. "You okay, Sam? What happened?" She asked, worry lacing her voice in response to his body language. She could tell he was upset, but unfortunately she couldn't read his mind.

"I couldn't do it, Y/N," He admitted, looking down at his hand over the simple white sheet. She was warm and even through the fabric he could tell how soft her skin was, invoking a feeling deep within Sam that he'd never allowed himself to feel. "I couldn't leave you."

"Where's Dean?" She asked, yawning and craning her head back against the headboard. Sam got the opportunity to admire her for that split second, looking down her simple tank top, and even noticing how her throat was pretty. Then, Sam started to think about what she had said. Dean. Why was she always so worried about Dean? It was clear to everyone who met the Winchesters that Dean was her favorite big brother and here Sam was, telling her that he came back for her, and she was asking about Dean. Even though he should be used to it by now, it still makes his blood boil.

"He's pretty pissed with me so I'm sure he's off at some bar," He explained, looking down to admire his hand on her again but then she shifted. When Sam looked back up to gauge her reaction, she looked down, and Sam's heart began to race. Fuck, maybe she had found him out.

"Why is, uh, why is Dean pissed?" She stuttered getting out, swallowing hard. Sam's eyes follow hers but every time he's about to catch them they stray away. She's nervous, her leg is no longer under his hand, and her entire body is tense. Sam needed to think of something and something quick.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Sam said, looking back down, fighting back the smile on his lips as he saw her body relax. Nobody knew Sam better than she did and Sam figured if he continued to act closed off- she wouldn't pry or ask any questions, he was right. When he looked back up, she gave him a sad smile and reached up to swipe a stray hair out of his face. Sam leaned into the touch, his hand coming up to hold her wrist there, and relished the way her soft skin felt on his face.

"Sam, really, are you okay? I figured Lucifer would at least send some demons after you. You know with the whole Detroit thing." Y/N pried and Sam loved that her only question was to ask if he was okay, that he could pull off.

"I'm okay. I just couldn't leave you," Sam gave her a soft smile. When her hand dropped down, Sam held it in his own and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"You're so sappy," She teased, laughing lightly, and Sam shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "But we talked about this. Dean and I will be fine, you don't have to worry about us. I just- I don't know what to say." She frowned, looking down, and then looking back up to Sam. "You get that this isn't about us, right? We have had some really shitty plans on how to deal with Lucifer but this is the best bad idea we have so far. And I don't want to say that I'm upset that you didn't say yes but we need to think of something, and we need to think of something quick." She gave Sam a sad look.

"Yeah, I get it," Sam sighed aloud and felt her grip onto his hand. "I needed to say goodbye first."

"We said our goodbyes, Sammy. Hell, I was with you when you drank all of that demon blood," She laughed quietly and Sam gave her a small smile. He took a leap of faith and leaned over, kissing her hard until her head hit the headboard lightly. His lips moved around her still ones, his hands moved up to cup her face, and she didn't move for a few seconds. Once she began to tense up, Sam held her face from straying towards the side, and kissed her more hungrily. Her hands moved up and grabbed his wrists softly, pushing them off of her, and she pulled her head back away from him. "What was that for?" She asked softly, wide eyes staring back into Sam's lustful ones.

"Part of my goodbye," Sam told her, diving back into her lips. She was more prepared this time, struggling as Sam held her wrists in place on the bed, and she tried to turn her head away from him. Sam kept her held there, kissing every bit of her face that he could reach, enjoying the small whimpers that fled as she fought against him.

"Sam, we can't. I don't want to," She pleaded when she turned her head to the side. Sam didn't listen as he used this opportunity to kiss down her neck, nipping at the soft skin, and leaving marks that would form over the next twenty-four hours. "Sammy, this isn't right. You have to stop." She tried pulling her wrists away from his grip, but he wouldn't give. Her knee came up, pushing against Sam's ribcage, and she got a good jab in that made him pull back.

"You don't love me?" Sam asked in a pout and she looked at him with eyes wide and filled with fear.

"I do, but I don't love you in that way. You're my brother," She frowned, tears welling at the brim of her eyes. Sam looked down, sadly, as he was beginning to realize that he was going to have to force her. "I'm not mad, Sammy, I swear." She said softly, using her fingers to push the hair out of his face.

"Please, Y/N," Sam begged, looking up as she gulped nervously. Sam noticed how even though she seemed so scared, she was still gentle and caring about how Sam was feeling, it only made him want her more.

"No, Sam. I'm sorry," She told him. He watched as her lip trembled and fresh tears fell down her face and frowned to himself. He took a deep breath, swiftly collecting her wrists again, and climbed over her small body. She fought much more this time and Sam could taste her salty tears on her lips, drinking them in like water. Sam sat on her thighs to keep her legs down and her fingernails began to dig into his forearm as he continued to attack her mouth with his.

"Stop struggling," He told her firmly, almost in a growl, and she whimpered in return. When he reached down to kiss her again her teeth dug into his bottom lip, drawing blood and making him pull back. "Bitch," Sam muttered, using his fingers to wipe the blood off of his lips. She made use of her free hand to push against Sam, but he wouldn't budge. She was crying a river and when Sam's hand reached up and wrapped around her throat, she stopped moving altogether.

"You're not Sam," She said, her voice shaking, as she looked back up into his eyes. Sam grinned at her cockily and her eyes squeezed shut as he applied more pressure on her neck.

"What gave me away?" Lucifer asked in Sam's voice, whispering against her ear, and feeling the chills that ran down her body.

"Sammy would never hurt me," She choked out, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. She didn't bother pushing against him, it would be no use, and Sam was internally screaming at Lucifer to stop.

"You sure about that?" He checked, chuckling deeply. He placed a wet kiss along her jaw line and she choked out a sob, trying to curl her knees up to her chest, but he was too heavy for her to do so.

"Please, don't do this," She said in a small voice, grabbing onto his wrist and trying to loosen his grip. He let go of her neck altogether and she gasped out for air, then his fingers danced against her collarbones. He admired how pretty she looked in her tank top, how plump her lips got from the way that he sucked on them, and he couldn't wait to see the faces she made when he fucked into her. Sam knew what was coming next and as much as he hated to admit it, it felt good to finally let go.

•••

"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam. You can't lie to me. I see it all- how odd you always felt, how... out of place in that... family of yours," Lucifer smirks in Sam's body in the mirror. Sam's biting back, trying to block him from seeing everything, trying to claw his way out. "That's not how you're supposed to look at your sister, Sammy." Lucifer chuckled lightly, shaking his head from side to side.

"Don't talk about her. Don't even think about her. I'm going to rip you from the inside out, do you understand me?" Sam threatened through gritted teeth.

"Sam, I've had some messed up thoughts about my family too. I mean, seriously, I'm using your meatsuit to try and kill my brother. But this? This isn't even something the Devil himself wouldn't think about." Lucifer joked and Sam's fists were growing white from holding all of his anger inside. "Baby sister, Y/N. Who would have thought she's what turned your gears at night?"

"No, that's not true," Sam said in a desperate attempt to flip the script, but he couldn't hide anything. He couldn't hide any of his dirty thoughts about, Y/N, or about the fact he had dreamt about being inside her. He couldn't hide that he wondered about whether or not she'd be quiet when he fucked her or what she tasted like. He couldn't hide that he imagined her face as she came undone around him and he couldn't hide how he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted her. But Sam had never advanced on her, ranking it down to a dirty fantasy, and she'd never shown any interest.

"It is. And here I thought having all of Azazel's gang to kill would help you blow off steam," Lucifer scoffed, turning his body so Sam could see all of the people throughout his life that terrorized him. He recognized every one of them, from teachers to his prom date, but he was more angry about the fact that his cover was blown about Y/N. "Or maybe you'd prefer something else I can offer." He chuckled deeply, turning back to Sam. Sam swallowed hard, increasingly worrying about Y/N since he wasn't in control of his body anymore.

"I don't want anything from you," Sam spit out, his face white-hot with anger. The look in his own eyes as he stared into the mirror was something that Sam had never seen before. They were his eyes, yes, but Lucifer had installed a different kind of lust that Sam didn't recognize.

"Oh, come on, Sam. This is your one opportunity, using me as an excuse to fuck your little sister. She'd never blame you. I just want you to be happy and these pawns just aren't going to do it for you, are they?" Lucifer tsked and Sam tried harder to claw his way out, but Lucifer was too strong. "I can put a good show on for you, show you what you've been dying to see for all these years." He offered, but Sam didn't let the thought become a possibility in his head. He wasn't going to do it like this. "Remember when she grew breasts? Like overnight? That's when you started to look at her differently. You stopped thinking about her as a little sister, just a hot fuck, and you felt so sick." He said, bringing back Sam's old memories. Sam was too angry to reply, he stared into the mirror with angry silence and furrowed brows. "But then you didn't feel sick anymore, isn't that right? You even accepted the fact that you wanted to fuck her. You've been dreaming about it ever since. Even when you were with Jess. Used her and pretended she was your baby sister, how naughty."

"Stop talking," Sam shook his head angrily, he couldn't hear the truth anymore. He didn't want to be the person that Y/N thought of when she thought about how fucked up her life was, he didn't want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.

"Denial isn't going to get you anywhere, Sammy," Lucifer had let out a low chuckle, deviously smiling at Sam through the mirror. "Bet she's so tight. Bet she plays with herself every night, maybe even in the same bed as you. Bet her scream is so pretty." He taunted and Sam tried his hardest to not think about what he was saying. But Sam had often thought about these things. He knew that she probably was tight, knowing that she hadn't gotten much action since being on the road with her brothers, and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. "Big day is tomorrow. I say we make a pit stop at the motel, maybe she'll be all nice and ready for you, Sam."

•••

He drank up every bit of her. Both Sam and Y/N's clothes were on the floor, hers shredded and long forgotten, as she cried underneath him. It was more of a silent cry now, small whimpers, as Sam's painfully hard cock dragged in and out of her. Her body was so tense it made her cunt tighter than Sam could have imagined, and he hated himself for enjoying it so damn much. She was almost lifeless, laying there and letting him take what he wanted. Small whimpers, Sam wouldn't dare call them moans, fled her lips and Sam desperately chased his high- more so for her than for him, despite how insanely aroused he was. Her fingernails were digging into his forearms and she had her head turned to the side, too ashamed to look at Sam as he assaulted her.

Sam hadn't realized that he was crying until he saw his own tears on her naked chest. He couldn't bare to look at her face, realize how much he was hurting her. He couldn't think about the fact that, if he made it out of this alive, this would be the first thing she thought of. She would never look at him the same, if ever again. She wouldn't ever trust him, she wouldn't be happy to see him, and she would never love him again. It was killing Sam and he, too, had stopped his internal fight with Lucifer. He stopped clawing inside his own head, knowing that Lucifer was too strong, and began to let himself feel whatever Lucifer wanted him to feel.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's okay, I'm okay," She sobbed and Sam finally looked up to see her face. She brought her hands up to cup his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. Lucifer took his opportunity, knowing Sam could see everything, as he thrusted into her harder than ever before. She cried out, biting her lip, and closed her eyes shut as much as she could.

"I'm sorry," Sam croaked out, feeling the way his body was moving involuntarily and betraying him. She couldn't hear him, he knew that, but he needed to say it. He needed to know that he wasn't actually enjoying this, he needed to know that it wasn't his fault. She was hurting and Sam couldn't fathom that it was his fault. His body fell down and pressed against her, burying his face into her neck as he wrapped his arms under her head. Sam wouldn't dare call it a moan, but with the new angle she had let out a noise.

"It's not you, Sam. I know that. I love you," She whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his back. She held onto him tightly, pressing him against her body more than he already was, and began to whimper uncontrollably. Sam almost felt safe in her arms, like it was a hug, and tried his best to focus on the way she held onto him. His hips were rutting into her at an unforgiving pace, with no sign in the future that he was going to come undone, and he continued to tell himself that it wasn't his fault. He'd never to that to her. He'd never hurt her. This wasn't him. He would never make her do something that she didn't want to and he appreciated that she was still so caring, even though it was his body that was attacking her.

Sam groaned loudly when she wrapped her legs around his waist, the heels of her feet pushing him deeper inside of her. She had let a string of fucks come out of her mouth and she was holding onto him as tight as she could, Sam could feel her walls clenching around him more sporadically too. Sam hated that he felt pride, knowing she was close, knowing that she was about to cum on his cock, but something about her being satisfied made him happy. The thought made something in his core rumble and each thrust was feeling better and better- he was close too.

"Fuck, Sammy," She let out in a breathy voice and Sam couldn't help but groan at her words. When her legs began to shake and her teeth sunk into his shoulder, masking all of her moans of pleasure and hints of disgust, Sam began to fuck into her harder. It felt so twistedly good to feel her clenching so hard around him, that his cock was the thing she was cumming on, Sam was even starting to enjoy it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Y/N whined, trying to catch her breath. She was letting out guttural moans from her throat, squirming underneath him, and Sam was loving every second of it. He was so close to coming undone as her legs fell to the bed and Sam began to miss the way she was pushing him into her, but she still held onto him with her arms.

"Come on, Sammy. Cum for me," She encouraged in a whisper, making Sam's eyebrows furrow in pleasure. He knew that she was only saying these things so that it would stop, but Sam used it as a push to his release. Or tried to, just as the guilt began to push its way in his mind. He couldn't help but let his thoughts trail off. She'd never forgive him for this and Sam could never forgive himself either.

Y/N had sensed that Sam was tensing above her, rejecting what his body wanted so desperately to do. When she had came, Sam's body began to tremble and she knew he was close. Now, he was tense and his thrusts were harder, surely bruising her core, and almost threatening to bring her to the edge agin.

"I'm sorry," Was the first thing that she had heard from the actual Sam all night and it was so quiet she wasn't even sure she was meant to hear it. She knew that he still had to be in there and as much as she was hating what was happening, hating that her body had betrayed her, she knew it wasn't Sam's fault. He was merely a pawn for Lucifer and as to why he had chosen to do this to her, she had no idea- but she knew there was only one way out of this.

"Want you to cum for me," She told him, beginning to emphasize the small whimpers and moans that were already leaving her mouth. Y/N wasn't sure if that would make things worse or better- hearing his baby sister say those things to him- but Sam had let out a deep moan and she knew he was beginning to relax. "Cum inside me, Sammy. I want it." She lied, feeling disgusted with her own words, and Sam began to moan louder.

His thrusts began to get sloppier and harder as he began to feel his cock twitch inside her. She was still pulsing around him, her cunt trying to milk him for all his worth, and soon enough his hips stilled. Y/N felt immediately relieved and somewhat nauseous, knowing that her big brother had just cum inside of her- but it wasn't really him. Sam would never do this to her- he'd never want to do this to her. He gasped out for air, a long groan following, as he came inside of her- pushing his hips up inside of her as much as he could. "You did so good, Sam." She praised in a quiet voice, her fingernails rubbing up and down his back. He panted into the crook of her neck, holding onto her, and smelling her hair. But the moment didn't last long and he felt his body sit up.

His fingertips reached out and touched her forehead, and Sam watched as she fell asleep. He climbed out of bed, pulling the covers over her naked body, and began to walk to the other side where his clothes were at. He quickly pulled on his underwear and his pants, looping his belt through the holes and securing it. Sam grabbed his flannel off of the floor, heading for the bathroom where Lucifer could talk to him.

"How's that for a goodbye?" Lucifer chuckled cockily and all of Sam's anger fled back into his body. It was a mixture of guilt and sadness, hating the way that her words were the ones to push them over the edge- that he had wanted to hear that kind of praise from Y/N for so long.

"I'm going to kill you," Sam muttered seriously, looking into the mirror at himself. His chest was glistening with sweat and he could see Y/N lying in the bed behind him. He was the most angry he had ever been in his entire life but seeing Y/N peaceful and asleep brought some sort of serenity to him, at least he didn't have to kill her.

"Relax, kid. She won't even remember it," He smirked at Sam. "But you will." He smiled and Sam grunted, annoyed with all of the stupid comments, but most of all relieved. If what Lucifer said was true, she wouldn't remember it. She wouldn't resent or hate him for what he had done to her, she would still love him.

He began to feel sick with what he had just done, but he tried to remember what she told him. It's okay, I'm okay. It's not you. I love you.

"You know, I didn't even move for the last minute or so. That was all you, Sammy,"

#Sam Winchester #supernatural #SPN #SPNFamily #oneshot #fanfic #fan fiction #Jared Padalecki #winchester

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

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Hunger

SPN FanFic

~The Mark of Cain is starving for attention and Dean feeds it what, and when he can.~

Demon!Dean x Reader

3,250 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Demon!Dean. Smut. Rough, rough sex. Stripping. Filming of Sex. Masturbation. Deep Throat Fucking. Breath Control/Play. Rough Intercourse. Dean's a dick.

A/N: This is for my "Filming Sex" square on @spnkinkbingo 2020. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ;)

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Dean walked out of the bar, leaving Crowley and his idiot minions behind. Last thing he needed was to be told what to do. He was too powerful and gave too few fucks now for that to be a thing. No one was gonna tell him what to do. Not ever again.

The brand on his arm ached constantly since he had been reborn, but he’d learned to ignore it, only letting the urge spike when he was in the mood or around a particularly annoying asshole that deserved to die. It wasn’t as if he just walked around dropping bodies, he still had some class. But, if he happened upon a douche that was asking for it...

That was how it went. Blood and more blood. Knuckle bruises fading, open wounds closing themselves. He was unstoppable. Fucking. Unstoppable.

But he was hungry.

Not the kind of hunger that could be soothed with a stop at a diner and topped off at a strip club. Dean was hungry for something familiar, something delicious and submissive, and wet.

The craving started when he realized where he was. Roads all looked the same and since he had no destination in mind, he just drove, ending up where he ended up. The white lines on the asphalt had been his friend and lead him right to her door.

Y/N would remember him, had to. He sure as fuck remembered her.

He remembered where her spare key was, too. Dean was careful to step around the devil’s trap that was painted underneath the weathered doormat on the porch as he reached for the key hanging behind the old window’s shutter. She might have grown up in The Life, might know how to keep ghosts out of her house, the common demon, but leaving a key right by her front door?

Dean shook his head and unlocked the door. “Imma have to talk to her about that.”

All it took was a quick hop over the mat and he was in.

The house was small like he remembered and just as cluttered. Still smelled like cloves, too. Well, that wasn’t gonna protect her from what he had in mind.

Somewhere down the hall a clock was ticking, a gentle click every second giving the place a rhythmic measure to fall asleep to. Dean’s footsteps fell on every other click; thick tread of his boots and heavy feet dropping onto the hardwood with an ominous thud.

Y/N was sleeping, lying on her back, empty face awash in the faint red light from her alarm clock. The thin sheet barely covered her, flowing like silk over each curve, tucked tight beneath her left knee. She breathed slowly; firm breasts rising and falling every fifth tick of the clock.

Dean slipped inside her room, silent and bathed in shadow. He looked around as she slept, unaware of his approach, not sensing anything as the air began to warm with his presence. Dean smiled as she rolled in her sleep, corner of the sheet dropping away to reveal a set of pale blue flannel pajamas.

“Always so cozy, Y/N/N,” he murmured, not bothering to keep his voice down.

She stirred, eyes fluttering wildly as Dean stepped up to the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey.”

She stretched and rubbed at her eyes with a tired hand. “Who’s there?” Her voice was caked with sleep, throat scratchy from hours of non use.

“Here there, Sweetheart.” His smile was dangerous but true. He had missed her; missed her heavy breaths as he clawed at her flesh, the muted whimpers as she screamed into her pillow. His stomach growled and The Mark ached as she blinked into the shadows, trying to place his silhouette and raspy voice.

“Dean?” Still groggy, she sat up and turned on the lap by her bedside, setting the room aglow. She was startled but glad to see him, instantly flashing a confused smile. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second and let it slide back out slowly. “Yeah, about that-” He flicked his left hand and dropped the spare key between her knees on the bed. “You really need to hide that better. Never know who could just waltz in here.”

Y/N scooped up the key and clutched it in her fist. “Kinda like… an ex boyfriend?”

A smug laugh filled the room. “Yeah. One of those.”

The key fell onto the nightstand with a faint clank.

“So, what brings you to my bedroom in the middle of the night, Dean? You know I still have a cell phone, a few actually. It’s considered polite to call, especially after not calling for almost three years.”

Dean scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, about that-”

A click of her tongue interrupted him; her annoyance clear. “I heard you were dead. Sam dropped off the map, then suddenly everyone was back in action. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t get a phone call.”

“Well, Sam, hit a dog…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw back the blanket, tossing her feet over the side of the bed. “Ya know what? I don’t care.” Her bare feet sank gently into the carpet. “It was nice to see you, but… Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dean dipped his chin and looked up at her with big green eyes. “I just wanted to see you, Y/N/N, didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She softened but held her ground. “You just wanted to see me in the middle of the night in my bedroom? Come on, Dean.”

He moved closer, rounding the bed, big steps leading him to her side in a fraction of a second. “Well, I thought it would be rude to say I came to get some.”

She laughed and bit her lip as she looked away. “There’s the jerk I remember.”

Dean lifted his fingers to her cheek and surprisingly, she didn’t flinch away. “So…” He smirked and nodded towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Y/N took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You break into my house-”

“I used the key.”

“-sneak into my bedroom-”

“I wasn’t that quiet. You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“-and now you’re like “hey baby, let’s do it”, and I’m supposed to what, rip my clothes off and suck your dick?”

Dean frowned as he thought up the scenario in his head, nodding when he decided it was good. “Yeah?”

The urge to slap him in his smug face was stopped only by the big thumb that traced her jaw. Y/N shivered, her eyes closing as memory washed over her. He was a good fuck, a good man, the best- but still.

“Get out,” she grit. “Now.”

The hand on her cheek dropped and Dean smacked his lips, looking slightly dejected. “You sure?”

She held her breath as he leaned closer, just tipping his chest towards her. She could smell his heat; the old familiar scent of the Impala and coffee lingering on his clothes. It was almost thick around him, that faint hint of aftershave, the cheap motel soap, the musk of him. Y/N’s head swam with thoughts of kissing him, of reaching up and pressing herself against him; breasts smashed against that hard, flanneled chest, tongues stroking with electric waves against each other. She closed her eyes and suddenly it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Dean closed the gap and gently placed his lips against hers, pushing just enough to catch her breath but staying back should she want to fight him off. Her right mind said to bring her knee up hard between his bowed legs, but her sleepy, dreamy, hazy brain said to open her mouth to him.

“That’s it,” he hummed as she wrapped a soft hand around the back of his neck. “You still taste so sweet.”

“And your breath still stinks,” she laughed, digging her nails into the base of his skull. He hissed and she licked at his mouth.

“Not that you care.” He pushed back then, swirling his tongue between her lips and stepping forward, forcing her back onto the bed. They sank together, Y/N’s legs opening automatically to make room for him. He rocked upwards, cock already half hard and pressing against his jeans. She moaned as the rough zipper rubbed through her pajamas, grinding up on her cunt.

“Fuck.” She breathed into his hair, face raising to the ceiling as his lips trailed down her throat; pearly teeth scraping over her pulse and nipping at her shoulder.

His voice was dry and cracked in her ear. “That was my plan.”

A giant hand closed over her left breast and Y/N’s entire body arched upwards, wanting to pull him deep inside, feel all of him. She moaned and called his name like a prayer. “Dean. Please.”

He was gone before she knew what happened, the mattress bouncing as his weight vanished.

“What the fuck?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes once more, this time clearing away the dampness of arousal. “Where are you going?”

Dean opened the buckle of his belt as he walked around the perimeter of the bed. “Just wanted a new angle.” He turned with a smirk and popped the brass button of his jeans.

Y/N smiled in a daze as she watched him move around, slowly finding the foot of the bed again. “How about you take those off and let me say hello?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and locked her eyes on his crotch; mouth watering at the idea.

“No.”

She looked upwards, a pout and confusion on her face. “W-why not?”

The tip of his tongue fit between his teeth and his smile was filled with devilish intent. He took his time answering, looking slowly around the room until he found something to play with: her old camcorder was tucked away on a shelf behind him.

Y/N watched curiously as he picked it up and blew the dust from its top. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as the power came on, and Dean trained the eye on Y/N. “Strip for me,” he said, voice deep as he hit record.

Her heart raced as the tiny red light came on, making her blush. “What? No.”

Green eyes lifted from the screen to her face. “Strip.”

The command was absolute and struck some chord deep inside; arousal pulsing in her cunt. “Yeah,” she said softly, “yeah, OK.”

Up on her knees in the middle of the bed, Y/N bit her lip as she opened the tiny buttons on her pajama top, careful not to reveal too much at once, wanting to give him a show.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the screen and real life; lips twitching with excitement as she got more into it, playing to the camera, exposing herself for him.

“Like this?” she asked, kicking the soft pants from her legs.

“Perfect.” He zoomed in, framing her body. “Lay back.”

Y/N swallowed deeply as she leaned back against the pillows. Sleep and his voice rang through her head, hitting every button inside, turning her on more than she thought possible. Without realizing it, Y/N had lifted a hand to her breast, slowly swirling her fingers across her stiffening nipples. Every pass made her shiver, but she remained frozen; eyes locked on Dean.

“That’s it,” he praised in a whisper, “such a good girl.”

Y/N hummed happily, her eyes closing a bit; sleepy and dazed. Her knees opened timidly as the heat grew; her left hand lazily drifting downwards.

“Yeah,” Dean urged. “Play with that pretty cunt for me. Show me how wet you can get.”

“Real wet,” she replied like a zombie, voice almost gone, breath heavy. “So wet, Dean.”

He grinned and zoomed in, capturing the slow press of her fingertips against her clit. Her skin glistened, damp and delicious. “Is that all for me?”

Y/N nodded helplessly and slid her middle finger deep inside, knuckles disappearing into her tight flesh. “Yeah. For you.”

Dean stared hard, cocking his head as she fucked herself for the camera, for him. He let the image burn into his brain so that every blink left him with a reminder of her perfect cunt.

When she began to moan, fingers working faster, legs shaking with effort, Dean called to her, stepping back from the bed.

“Enough. Come here.”

Y/N sat up almost automatically, hands dropping to the mattress as she rolled over and crawled to him, her chin up towards the camera, her eyes rolling, pussy juices dripping down her legs.

Dean unzipped his jeans and let them fall, stopped only by the tops of his boots.

“Flip over,” he ordered, yanking his boxers down. “Head over the side.”

Y/N held her breath as she got into position, back flat on the bed, neck stretching parallel to the floor as her head hung down over the edge.

Dean fisted his cock and pumped a few times, watching the pulse in her exposed throat beat faster. “Perfect. Open up.”

He aimed the camera downwards, immortalizing the moment he slid inside her waiting lips. She moaned happily as he pushed deep inside, watching as his cock passed down her throat, pushing at her delicate skin from the inside out. She choked as her neck bulged, and Dean thrust harder.

“Fuck, so deep.” His hips snapped against her forehead, shaking her entire body as he fucked her mouth without care.

She lost her breath as he went deeper; spit rolling down her cheeks, thicker with every push of his thick cock. When her lungs began to protest, she tried to scream, to warn him, but all that came out was a meek whine. She clawed at the sheets, then his hips, digging her nails into the dips of his waist, begging for a break.

The camera shook as Dean bent over, hooking one foot on the bed and dipping down deep. The new angle allowed her a single breath, but no true relief as her lips began to swell and her throat went numb around him.

“So good, Sweetheart,” he growled, pulsing the tip of his dick between her puffy lips. “My own little pornstar. Taking my cock like a pro.”

A final cry pushed up from the back of her throat and Dean showed an ounce of mercy, pulling free of her tight mouth with a wet pop. He zoomed close on the red mess that was her lips; cheeks stained by lines of spit, jaw sore and hanging.

“So beautiful.” He stood up and let the lens trail down her naked body. “Think I’ll wreck that pussy next. Scoot up, spread your legs.”

Invisible strings moved her body; Y/N couldn’t consciously decide to move a muscle, but she went, setting her ass in the middle of the bed, giving her neck a rest against the soft comforter.

Dean placed the camera back on the shelf, careful to aim it perfectly at the bed. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Y/N lay there, waiting, drifting, empty. She felt the bed dip as Dean crawled over her, felt the heat from his now bare chest as it pressed down onto her. His lips were hot on her ear. His breath heavy, voice rough.

“Smile pretty for the camera, girl.”

She held in a scream as Dean pushed away, up on his knees as he thrust into her, thick cock stretching her open. She tensed at the pain and he smiled, green eyes blinking to black.

“Dean!” Fright and confusion ran through her veins and she pushed at his arms, trying to get away. “What the fuck!”

The oil slick remained as Dean fucked her harder, one giant hand pinning her wrists together above her head, the other closing over her mouth. “Shhh.” He smirked. “Thought you knew, Sweetheart. Haven’t been keeping up with the gossip much, I see.”

Y/N bit down hard on his palm and he flinched, pulling away. “Exorcizamus te!”

Dean laughed and wrapped his long fingers around her throat, cutting off her words. “That ain’t gonna work,” he sneered, leaning close so his breath flowed over her lips. “I’m not possessed. Just better.”

She gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. “Dean!”

His grip loosened but his thrusts did not ease, ramming into her without pause or finesse. He set his eyes on the lens as they flipped back to pure green; playing for the camera, upper lip pulled back into a sneer as her body tightened around him.

“Oh, gonna cum for me?” His laugh was dark, his fingers bruising her skin wherever they fell. “Can’t help it, can you?”

Y/N shook her head in protest, but couldn’t resist, hips rising to meet every push, bliss growing like a firecracker in her gut. “Please...harder.”

Dean laughed and let her hands go as he readjusted, holding himself up above her. “That’s my girl.”

“Fuck!” The fire would not hold and Y/N came with a scream, entire body shaking as the pleasure ran upwards, blanking out any care of the danger that fucked her senseless.

Dean grunted as she clenched down on him. “Oh, just like that. Fuck.”

He moved impossibly faster, slamming into her so hard each pop took her breath away. He tore into her, not relenting until he pulled another orgasm from her. Her eyes rolled and her legs fell weak against his thighs.

With a growl, Dean pulled out and fisted his cock, watching her heaving chest as he pumped himself. “Don’t move.”

She moaned, head lolling to the side as he came, spraying hot and creamy white against her belly and tits.

When he was done, Dean leaned down and scooped up his mess with two fingers, bringing it to her lips. “Clean yourself up.” He shoved his hand into her mouth and she licked, mindlessly sucking him clean, swallowing him down. “That’s fucking hot as fuck, Y/N. Makes me wanna go again.”

She moaned pitifully, spent and trapped beneath him.

“But...nah.”

Suddenly, he was gone and the cold air washed across her body. “W-where are you going?” She tried to turn, but her body ached; every bit of her exhausted and limp.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he asked, half amused by her question.

“I- Dean...what happened to you?”

He laughed to himself as he zipped up and tossed the flannel over his shoulders. “Long story,” he said absently, “and I don’t feel like stickin’ around for the pillow talk.”

“Dean-”

He ignored her, reaching into the camcorder to take out the tape. “Here,” he said, tossing the mini film onto her stomach. “Something to remember me by.”

She rolled over just in time to see him open the door, slipping back into the dark hallway just as quietly as he came. “Dean!”

The roads were all the same; white lines and black top, bit of debris kicking the tires. Dean drove fast and reckless beneath the bright moon, not a care in his head, no destination in mind.

His stomach growled and he searched the exit sign for a rest stop.

The Mark burned but he ignored it. He’d find some shithead to sink his blade into before the sun came up, of that he was sure. But for now- a burger would do.

2020 Forever Tags:

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#demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #dean x reader #spnkinkbingo 2020 #one shot #smutt

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queenofthefallenangels · 4 years

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Credit: @allelitewrestlings

Darby VS. Jon Moxley

Darby Allin x unnamed or x Jon Moxley

Warning: Smut and Violence

Summary: i might be dating Darby, but that will never stop Jon Moxley from getting what he wants.

Tag Team: @sithstatlander @xladyxfatex @awkward-teenaged-girl @steadysuitcasepurseranch @themansbliss @katelynirwinhemmingsclifordhood @strwbrryshrtckexo @bluedragonfly678 @luleelurah @mohawkmama @foreverthenerdprincess @aujenaeblaze @missnena2194 @suicidepanda07 @kelseyann2002 @princessminjikwon @nerdgirlsblog @multi-stan-kpop @redz0mbie @thebornalpha @acon1120 @jonsmoxley @chonisberonica @goddessofhardrock @1dluver13xx marismar @vampirepixi @dietwrestling @asktvhead @moxslilangel2020 @chynagirl13

—

Darby Vs. Mox

I was touching up my makeup after my last interview. I wanted to make sure I still looked good for when Darby went out into the ring. Darby and I had been together since March. He seemed like a breath of fresh air from my last relationship. I had been with Jon Moxley on and off for two years. We met when I interned in the WWE for a bit back when he was still Dean Ambrose. It was right after he came back from his injury. We broke up once my internship ended and I had a job elsewhere. We reconnected when I got a job with AEW, but it got messy fast. His traveling to Japan became one of the major problems. I found out he was seeing someone behind my back. We broke it off a couple of weeks after AEW premiered on TNT. Darby and I started talking in December. It was perfect or seemed that way until his injury. I couldn’t see him as much due to work. I felt like something was up. Like he was doing the same thing as Mox, but of course, I was overreacting, wasn’t I?

I was reapplying my lipstick when the lights began to flicker. I raised an eyebrow as I looked up. I saw a shadow in the mirror. I jumped spinning around fast. “Jon!” I yelled. “What the fuck?” I asked.

He didn’t respond to me. He just watched me carefully as he moved forward. His eyes were locked on me. He looked like an animal stalking his prey. Once he reached me, he put two hands on either side of the counter trapping me. His scent hit me. The all to familiar scent of mint and cigarettes. I could smell a hint of his old spice body spray. What he always had used before a match. My heart was racing in my chest. My breath was unsteady. “Jon? What are you doing?”

He shrugged, “I could ask you the same thing, kitten. What are you doing in such a revealing dress?”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s for Darby. Not for you. We have been over for close to a year.”

“Mm,” he hummed in my ear. His gaze roaming my body. I had worn a red dress that hugged my curves, the neckline plunged pushing my round breasts on display. “Do you normally wear the dresses that your ex-boyfriend buys you to impress your new man?”

I scuffed at him, “It’s just a dress, Mox. It doesn’t mean anything. He might like it on me just as much as you did.”

“Okay, point taken.” He said as he lifted his hands of the counter and raised them in the air in defense. “But answer me one more question, why did you wear it when you had an interview with the ex that bought it for you?”

I crossed my arms across my chest, “I had one with Brodie too. You weren’t my only one. Maybe I just didn’t have time to change before your match with Darby.”

He looked around in the bathroom we are in. “Look, before I walked in, I am pretty sure you had a lot of time. So, I am pretty sure, I am not in the wrong thinking this dress was a little for me.” His fingers lightly touched the neckline of the dress following it down till it hit the top of my breasts.

I pulled my lip into my mouth as I watch his hand. He was wrong, wasn’t he? Could I have done it without noticing that I am doing it? That couldn’t be possible. I would know what I was doing. I couldn’t deny the fact that showing him what he was missing was something I craved. That but if petty revenge was something I really wanted. I also craved his hands all over. I really wanted him to take me right here and now.

Before I had a moment to speak, to lie and say he was wrong, his lips captured mine. He pressed me against the sink with his body. My arms instinctively go around his neck. His hands move towards the back of my thighs. He digs his nails in as he picks me up and places me on the counter, getting between my legs. His lips moved against mine. It didn’t take long before my body reacted with his and moved with them. He licked my bottom lip, hungrily begging for an entrance. I granted him and let his tongue slip past my lips. He explored it like this was the first time that he had ever been in there. I moaned softly into his mouth. The heat rising between my legs. I knew we didn’t have this long for him to be taking this slowly. Anyone could walk in at any time and catch us. I knew Jon didn’t care about that. He never did. When we were together, he told me that would do me in the ring in front of a live audience just to show everyone what he has and what they could never have. I tried not to wonder if he told any other girls this. I wanted to stay in this moment. Not think about how we could get caught, or how wrong this was, how I was doing Darby really wrong.

His rough hands move up towards my leaking core. Once his thumb started rubbing it through my thin thong, I was taken from my thoughts. Electricity running through my veins as he touched me there. My lips left his as my head rolled back. His lips connected to my neck. He kissed down until he found my sweet spot. His teeth sunk deep into. I gasped, my hips thrusting up. He chuckled softly. “You are so easy.”

My eyes narrowed as I moved my hands from around his neck and grabbed his cargo pants. I quickly unbuckled his belt, working his pants down. I reached my hand inside his boxers. His cock was hard as a rock. I spit in my hand before I wrap my hands around him. I start off slowly pumping it then I pick up speed. I heard a soft growl leave his lips. I moved to get off the counter, but he shook his head. “We don’t have time for that.” He spits in his hand rubbing it across his length to lube it up. I slipped my thong off before wrapping my legs around his waist pulling him close. He lined up and pushed himself in with a groan. “God, you are still so fuckin tight, kitten.” He growled into my ear. He gave me time to adjust to his size before he starts to move. His thrusts are slow at first, but very soon his movements become fast and deep. My nails claw into his skin. His one hand falls on the small of my back while the other wraps in my hair. I let out a soft moan as I thrust my hips towards him.

It didn’t take me long until he had pushed me over the edge. My walls contracted around him tightly pushing him towards his end. As soon as he started pulsing he pulled out as fast as he could. Ropes of his cum spilling all over my leg and the floor.

His breathing is ragged as he presses his forehead against mine. He stayed there for a moment before a voice came over the intern come. “Jon Moxley please report to the groilla. Jon Moxley.” He pulled away and kissed my forehead before he pulled his pants back up. “See you around, Kitten.” He winked at me before he left.

I was in shock as he left the room. What in the world had just happened? I didn’t have much time to reflect. I grabbed a paper towel and rubbed my leg off and got it off the floor. I pulled my thong back on and straighten my dress the best I could. I did my best to figure out a way to hide the after glow of sex, but it was no use. Maybe if I was lucky, no one would notice what had happened in the bathroom. I had done my best to keep my screams of pleasure just in the off chance someone heard. I didn’t like gossip, plus I just did something really bad to Darby. He just got back from his injury. I was supposed to be working on the relationship with him, not destroying it more.

I made my way out and walked towards the Gorilla. Darby smiles when he saw me coming. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He said as he grabbed and kissed me. “I love that dress on you.” He moved close to my ear, “I can’t wait til we get home tonight.” He whispered in my ear as he grabbed my ass.

There is a loud bang from the other side of the Gorilla. It was Jon. He tried his best to look innocent. He shrugged, “I didn’t see that there.” He wasn’t good at hiding his actual emotion from me. I could see the bit of jealousy in his eyes.

Darby rolled his eyes at Jon. His eyes soon moved back to me. His eyebrow suddenly raised. “What’s on your neck?” He asked as he moved a piece of golden hair.

“The curling iron.” I told him. I was trying my best not to sound suspicious. Jon chuckled softly in the background. I glared at him.

Darby looked between us. He was completely lost. “Is there something I need to know about?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

Jon shrugged, “Nothing, your girl is a clutz.” He said with a tiny wink towards me before he walked with the security guard to where he would be coming out of the arena. He grabbed his sleeves jacket putting it on. Both Darby and I had watched him do this and both of us had noticed the same thing. He had scratches in his back...scratches from me.

Darby’s eyes widened like he had just connected the dots. “What were you doing after your last interview with Allie?” He asked me.

I shook my head. “Just touching you my makeup.”

“Is that when you burned your neck? Because I saw your interview with Brodie. It wasn’t there. I didn’t see the ones with Mox or Allie, but I am going to guess the same thing.”

“What are you getting at Darby?” I asked . My voice was giving me away with how it wavered.

“I am getting at that it is odd how you have a mark on your neck that looks a lot like a hickey while he has marks on his back that look a lot like the ones I get right after we fuck. Do you want to explain that to me?”

I really didn’t want to explain it. I wasn’t sure how I would even explain it. I looked down at my black high heels. “He...came in the bathroom a little bit after my last interview...and..”

“And?” He asked egging me on. His arms were crossed on his chest. “What else happened?”

“He came onto me...he kissed me..and than I don’t know what or how.” I said rubbing the side of my face. My eyes were filling with tears. I felt so guilty, but at the same time I didn’t. I couldn’t explain this feeling. It just didn’t feel wrong what we did. I just hated hurting Darby. I was really nervous knowing that it was right before he had a match with Moxley. Darby wasn’t scared of hurting himself for a win. Now this was deeper than the belt.

I watched from the back. Darby’s music had hit first. He came out his normal way on his skateboard, but this time he had a microphone in his hand. I already knew this wasn’t going to end well. Darby nor Jon were much for talking. They both just wanted to get down to the fight. This meant Darby had something to say.

I bit on my nails as Jon’s music began to play. He came down through the audience even though there weren't many there now. It was his thing. He always said there just was a different feeling when he did that.

He seemed confused when he saw Darby in the ring with a mic. He shook it off as he continued on into the ring. He gave his belt to the ref.

Darby moved the mic to his mouth, but didn’t speak at first. He just paced. He acted like he was about to say something, but he never did. Jon stood there looking at him confused for a while. He couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t take him long to get sick of this and grab the mic out of the announcers hands. “Spit it out, Darby! People got places to be.”

“Do you have more of other people’s girlfriends to sleep with?” Darby snapped. There was a hush over the small crowd. The announcers didn’t even know what to say. Everyone, even my mouth had dropped.

“I really didn’t think you would be the one to have the balls to do this on national tv.” Jon shrugged. “But, she didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Just like you didn’t have a problem banging your nurse behind her back.” Darby’s eyes widened. My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe the words that Jon had just said. All the guilt I had felt for being a cheater was gone. It was replaced with anger. I didn’t know who I was more angry at. Darby for lying to me or Jon or anyone else who knew not telling me.

“You weren’t any different with all those girls you did in Japan. Is this your way of making up to her?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” he paused. “But, I can tell she must have not been getting fully satisfied from your little emo ass.”

Darby moved to say something else, but he ended up throwing the mic down and racing towards Jon. He knocked him back on the feet. Jon also threw the mic down and went after him, The bell rang as the match began. I eventually turned away. I was unable to watch it. I couldn’t believe it. Both of them cheated on me and both of them just made me look like a fool on live tv. I was walking back to the locker rooms when someone bumped into me from behind causing me to fall forward.

“Shit,” a voice said. I immediately knew who it was. “I am really sorry about that.” He said helping me up.

“It’s okay, Maxwell.” I said fixing my dress before quickly whipping my eyes hoping that he wouldn’t see. I looked at what he was holding. It was the belt. I could see little drops of blood on it. “What are you doing with that?” I asked.

“Oh, this.” He said as he looked at it. “It’s just a..uhh..I kind of hit Jon with it so he would lose.”

“So, you want to fight Darby? I didn’t think you were scared of a challenge.” I asked raising an eyebrow. “Darby would be too easy for you.”

“Yes, I like a challenge, but I also needed a reason to fight Darby.” He was getting really close to me. It caused me to take a step backwards.

“Why would you need a reason to fight Darby?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept walking forward until I was against the wall. He trapped me with his arms before leaning down and kissing me. Once he pulled away, he spoke, “because there is a pretty little blonde I have my eye on. I still need a First Lady.” He said with a wink before walking away.

To Be continued...

#jon moxley #dean ambrose #aew #aew smut #jon moxley smut #darby allin #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #jon moxley imagine

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

15.08 coda--made in the heart

There is no such thing as a ‘broken family’. Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce records, or adoption papers. Families are made in the heart. The only time family becomes null is when those ties in the heart are cut. If you cut those ties, those people are not your family. If you make those ties, those people are your family. And if you hate those ties, those people will still be your family because whatever you hate will always be with you.--C. Joybell C.

---

Castiel stares at the flickering, golden light of the portal. It beckons him forward the same time as the bunker beckons him to stay.

If you want to stay that badly, then stay.

Every time he thinks that he’s made headway, every time some of the ice cracks around his heart--Dean seems to sense that, comes in swinging with his words like weapons, honed to the perfect edge to cut him to ribbons. At this point, every interaction with Dean, even the neutral ones, have the potential to leave him bleeding.

“We need to hurry,” he says, never taking his eyes off the rip. “We only have twelve hours.”

Dean makes an awkward stutter-step towards the rift, towards him, before he stops. “We need to wait for Sam and Eileen. They can help us or at the very least, keep the rift open from the other side.”

Castiel takes another step closer to the rift. This close, he can almost smell it, the dank, rotten woods scent of Purgatory. That scent lingered in his nostrils long after he found himself back in the real world. That scent was ingrained into his skin for months after he was walking the earth once more. Even now, it beckons to him with a sick, twisted claw.

Through that rift is the flower which can help them bind Chuck. Through that rift lies the means of getting justice for his boy. Castiel won’t let anything stop him-not Eileen, not Sam, and certainly not Dean Winchester.

“Then stay and wait. I’m going.”

Castiel turns his back on Dean and steps towards the rift. Behind him, he can hear Dean shouting at him--Cas, you stupid son of a bitch, just wait for a goddamned minute, wait until Sam gets back, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, Cas WAIT--

Castiel steps through the portal. Warmth, the bunker, Dean’s voice--They all disappear. The only thing left is the grey, bleached bone hue of Purgatory and the overwhelming sense of hostility pressing against him from all sides.

Castiel has no idea what a Leviathan blossom looks like. He has no idea where to find one. He has no idea what awaits him, only that it’s likely unpleasant.

Castiel picks a direction and starts walking.

---

After Cas leaves, Dean is frozen. All he can do is stare at the rift, at the place where Cas disappeared.

He should know by now, that Cas always walks away. Between the two of them, Cas is always the first to leave.

He needs to wait for Sam. Twelve hours is nothing, compared to the vast plains of Purgatory. Dean knows--he was there for a year and he knows he came nowhere close to finding the edges of Purgatory. He needs Sam to hold the rift open, on the wild off-chance that they haven’t managed to find a single flower in that span of time.

He needs to wait for Sam.

Cas’ face, when he turned back to the rift--Like he’d already said goodbye, except Dean never heard the words, never felt that kind of closure--he’s never had that kind of closure with Cas, never been able to shove all of his feelings into a neat little box, close the lid, and walk away. Something’s always been unsaid between them.

Cas’ hand, shaking over his, close enough that he could feel the regular, human warmth of his skin, but not touching. Cas’ face as he turned away, resentful, hurt, and fearful, like he was worried what Dean would do to him. The way that Cas hasn’t been able to be in a room with him for longer than five minutes.

He needs to wait for Sam.

He needs--

“God damn it,” Dean snarls, already running towards his room to get his weapons.

---

An angel in Purgatory doesn’t go unnoticed for long.

Not surprisingly, it’s the Leviathans who find him first.

Castiel feels them before he sees them--ancient, implacable.

Hungry.

Just two, but Leviathans were a formidable opponent when he still had all his grace. Diminished as he is--Castiel hefts his angel blade and reaches for the little bit of grace still flickering dimly inside him.

The Leviathans appear in a meteor of black goo, their mouths already split into identical grins. “Look who we found,” the first one, a non-descript man, says.

“Castiel,” the second Leviathan, a woman, croons. “We thought we’d seen the last of you.” Her eyes flick up and down his body. “You’re looking good enough to eat.”

Castiel doesn’t bother trying to talk his way out. The Leviathans might know the him of years past, but they still know him. They already know his fear; no doubt they can smell it on the air. There’s nothing he can hide from them.

All that remains is to fight.

It’s an uneven battle from the beginning--one seraphim against two Leviathan was always doomed to failure. But Castiel tries as hard as he can, the memory of Jack’s last scream echoing in his mind fueling his increasingly desperate motions.

It ends. Maybe not as quickly as the Leviathans were expecting, but with the same outcome.

Castiel lays on the ground, pinned, the female’s hand around his throat. “We’ve been waiting so long for you to come back,” she murmurs, throwing her head back. Her face splits, revealing rows and rows of teeth, and this is how it ends, him failing in Purgatory, alone with some of his greatest fears--

Black blood spatters over Castiel’s face as the top half of the woman’s head disappears. He’s frozen in shock, but only for a second, before he’s rolling. Blade in hand, he moves on the male Leviathan. His blade flashes through the air, sending his head rolling.

Castiel twists, looking for--He doesn’t know what he’s looking for (Dean, his heart sings, a joyful chorus, Dean, he’s always looking for Dean), but he certainly doesn’t expect what he finds.

“Well, Feathers, I never thought that I’d be seeing you here again,” Benny drawls, blade propped on his shoulder.

---

Purgatory welcomes Dean back like he never left.

It’s intoxicating, the whiff of death and rot that he gets the second he steps through the portal. Within the first moments of being there, Dean feels something crack open in his chest--layers of bullshit, of guilt, human trappings being shed like regrets.

In his darkest of hearts, Dean can admit that he missed the clarity that came from Purgatory.

He finds it now, the obsidian blade heavy on his shoulder as he walks through the undergrowth. He can hear the rustlings of creatures, but none dare to accost him--perhaps his legend remains after all this time.

He doesn’t have the first fucking clue of what a Leviathan blossom is. As far as he can tell, nothing really grows in Purgatory. Everything is in a mild state of decay. He can’t find a bit of ground that isn’t covered by some layer of slimy, molding leaves. He’s just beginning to think that this whole thing was a waste of time--Michael’s getting his revenge after years of neglect--when he hears the sounds of a fight.

Dean’s heart immediately stutters in his chest--Cas, he thinks, fear and horror in his chest, Cas--And he’s running before he knows what he’s doing, before he has a chance to even think about a plan.

It was always easier in Purgatory, to shed all the bullshit trappings. Purgatory pares everything down to the essentials and right now, all that matters is Cas, and the fact that Cas might be in trouble--

His heart leaps into his throat when he sees Cas on the ground, Leviathan’s mouth poised to take a chomp--And then...And then...

Dean carries the weight of Benny around his neck like he carries the weight of all his fallen comrades, his family, those that he wasn’t able to save. Benny, however, stays closer to his heart, pulls him down a little farther. To see him here--Whole, laughing, going so far as to reach out and prod at Cas’ shoulder--Dean bursts out of the undergrowth and into the meadow before he can stop himself. Benny and Cas whirl around, blades at the ready at the sound. When he sees who it is, Benny lowers his blade.

Cas doesn’t.

“Hey brother,” Benny greets him, arms already opening in a hug. And for everything surrounding them, Dean hugs back, awash in the simple physical sensation of comfort, if only for a moment.

Benny pulls back, looks between him and Cas, and Dean can already see his mind working, the wheels turning, the addition happening. It’s a complicated equation that has to put Dean+Castiel together in such a way as to not end up with the final product of Dean and Castiel.

“You hunting more big-mouths?” is all Benny asks.

Dean’s eyes flick automatically to Cas, a reflex ingrained through years. He looks to Cas, knowing that Cas will be looking back, because Cas is always looking back--Cas stares straight ahead at the wilderness of Purgatory, like he could force it to give up its secrets with the sheer force of his will.

“We’re looking for a flower,” Dean says, ripping his eyes away from Cas and bringing them back to Benny. “We need it to...Well, it’s a long damn story, but we need a Leviathan blossom.”

Benny’s eyebrows quirk upward. “And what do you need one of those for?”

Dean almost laughs. He yearns for the simplicity of the days when all they had to do was hunt Leviathans or close the gates of Hell. When their enemies were clear and defined and had weaknesses and strengths. When you could just point Dean in a direction, tell him to kill something, and afterward, he could have a beer. When he wasn’t fighting the world and his own stupid brain and the lingering sensation that along the way, he’s irrevocably fucked up.

“Like I said,” he begins, picking up his blade off the ground. “It’s a long story. You know where any are?”

“I ain’t a damn florist,” Benny begins, but starts walking in a definite direction anyway, “but I just might know where you can get this little flower.”

Glancing at Cas, who isn’t looking back, Dean follows.

---

It’s always easier in Purgatory.

Stripped of the need to sleep or eat, with survival as the only law, priorities become clearer. Pure, Dean had called it. At the time he’d meant that he’d turned into a machine, the perfect soldier, the perfect killer, but he doesn’t wonder if he’d also meant something else. Because in Purgatory, Dean looks easier, breathes easier, wants easier.

In Purgatory, Dean doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t want Cas.

Last time it led to him tearing a bloody path through the place looking for Cas, flinging prayers into the ether every night in the vain hope that Cas would hear him and come back. This time, it leads to him looking, staring, the same way that Cas used to look at him. Shameless, longing. On the occasions where Benny’s eyes follow his look, Dean doesn’t pretend to be ashamed, doesn’t drop his gaze in mock coyness.

Dean is running out of reasons why he’s angry at Cas, which is bad, because if he does that, then all that’s left will be regret.

Benny tells them that they’re going towards a swamp, where the only flowers that he knows of thrive. Dean follows, for lack of any other plan. And Cas...Cas follows Dean, and if Dean deliberately unfocuses his mind, he can pretend that it’s just like old times, him and Cas and Benny tramping their merry way through Purgatory, when the only thing they had to do was survive.

They’ve moved so far beyond that--Dean doesn’t want to survive, he wants to thrive. He sees it now, reflected back to him in the mossy undergrowth and half-dead plants. He doesn’t want to live from hunt to hunt, monster to monster, always something breathing down his back. He wants to stop, if only for a moment. Wants there to be a reason worth stopping.

Cas. Cas is the reason, Cas is all the reasons.

It was always easier, in Purgatory.

---

They don’t go unnoticed.

Just like old times, traveling with an angel, even a weakened one, is enough to draw plenty of eyes their way. There are plenty of little skirmishes along the way, fights that are won with little difficulty. Between the three of them, they make quick work of anything unlucky enough or stupid enough to venture across their path.

It’s after one of these fights, when Dean and Benny are flicking the blood off their blades and Cas is standing on the periphery, doing whatever the fuck he does in Purgatory, that Benny leans in close.

“So should I ask what’s gong on between you two?”

There was a time that Dean could hide everything from the world. There was a time that no one knew what he was thinking. Now...Rowena, Adam, Benny...apparently he’s an open fucking book for anyone who cares to come along and flip through the pages.

“It’s fine,” Dean says shortly, because Benny might be one of the best friends he’s ever had, but there are some things that are just too close to the heart for Dean to talk about.

Benny scoffs, a rueful smile on his face. “Brother, the last time you were here, you tore this place a new one looking for that angel. And now...The hell happened between you that y’all can’t even look at each other? The hell is so bad that you’re gonna let him come back here alone?”

Shame curls hot in Dean’s gut. Hell, Purgatory, Heaven--how many places has he flung Cas into, alone, just for his sake? How many times has Cas gone, all for the reason that Dean asked him? How many times has Cas demanded that Dean return the favor, that Dean give up something, anything, for him?

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Dean says gruffly. “There’s a time limit on that portal and I don’t have the time to find another one.”

---

They find a flower. Whether or not it’s a Leviathan blossom remains unknown, but it’s a fucking flower, and It’s Purgatory, so Dean snatches it. He snatches several, just to be on the safe side. They’re a vicious, vibrant purple, one that seems unnatural in the already unnatural dim light of Purgatory. They’re rimmed with a dull yellow and, when Dean gets too close, give off a sickly sweet scent that would turn his stomach if he’d let it.

For all that he was chomping at the bit to get to this point, Cas watches Dean pocket the flowers with no words spoken. Dean doesn’t think that they’ve said more than three sentences to each other the entire time that they’ve been here. Part of that is Benny, acting as a natural buffer between them, but part of that is them, the sick poison that’s crept between them, corroding everything in its path until they’re hanging on by a single, rusted thread.

They’re silent as they walk back towards the portal. Dean is jittery in his skin--no way that it was this easy, no fucking way--Where’s the ticking clock, where’s the monsters descending upon them, where are the obstacles put up in front of them just to make them dance? But it appears like it is that easy, at least for the moment.

“What are your plans?” Dean finally asks Benny. Even though it was Benny’s choice to stay behind in Purgatory, he’s never quite given up that guilt, never been able to absolve himself of seeing his friend’s head roll on the ground. “We’ve got a portal. No restrictions apply.”

Benny scuffs the ground with his toe. “It sounds nice,” he admits, before he looks at Dean. “But you know the same problems will just be there waiting for me. Plus, it sounds like your place is kinda going to shit. I’ll stay here. Turns out that I’m pretty good at Purgatory.”

Dean accepts it without speaking, doesn’t say that he understands, because he was always better at Purgatory as well.

“In fact, I think this is where I get off the train. You’re close enough that you’ll make your portal with time to spare. I’ll stay behind, try to keep any stragglers off your tail.”

“You can come with us,” Dean tries again, because it’s been good, having Benny here, having someone who is on his side without needing to hear Dean explain himself thirty times, because Dean’s lost too many friends in this life--

“Naw,” Benny says, face splitting in a grin. “Out there, you’re fighting God. Here, I just get to beat up wolves and vamps. Out of the two of us, I’ve got the easier job.” He claps Dean’s shoulder. “See you on the other side brother.” He nods to Cas before he disappears into the forest.

Dean spends a long moment staring after him, trying to parse through his emotions to determine what he feels the most. After a few seconds, Cas comes to stand next to him. He doesn’t say anything, which is a comfort, because Dean doesn’t know what the hell he would say in this situation.

Once upon a time, there would have been a hand on his shoulder, the feel of another body bumping into his. Cas might still be figuring out the intricacies of human comfort, but he learned the lesson about physical contact easily enough. Right now, Dean’s skin is aching for that touch, for that comfort that Cas used to give up so freely. He has to clench every muscle he has and a few that he doesn’t just to stop himself from leaning into Cas.

“We need to go,” Dean finally says, through gritted teeth. “That portal ain’t staying open forever.”

---

Cas walks faster than him, so he ends up in front, blade in hand. Dean falls behind, thinking about Benny, about Adam, about Lee, about Sam and Eileen--about a whole bunch of shit that he doesn’t want to think about it. About how every time he and Sam talk about the endgame, Dean always mentions that it would have to be someone who was in the life. Someone who understood it.

About how every time he and Sam describe their endgames, Dean has a little comparative checklist in his head that he goes through, like Cas can do that, and Cas does that, and Cas would do that.

And he thinks about the last time he was here, about how desperate he’d been to find Cas. About how he spent a year hunting through monsters, covered in blood and dirt, hurling prayers into the night, hoping beyond hope that he’d finally hear something from Cas. About how Benny had said Forget it, he’s either dead or he ain’t answering, we gotta go, and Dean had said, Not Cas. If he ain’t answering then there’s a reason. I told you, I ain’t leaving here until I find him. And then Cas had a reason, which was I was doing it to keep you safe and--

It’s Cas. It’s always been Cas.

Dean stops, almost tripping over his own feet as he does so. Ahead of him, Cas continues, implacable as he ever was, but that’s not all he is. Not anymore. Dean can peer close and see the cracks of him, the spaces where Cas has burst out of the skin that he first had, the places where he’s grown into this new, wondrous creature. And Dean’s used those cracks to hurt Cas, slid his words in where they would hurt the most, but he’s done with that now, he just wants--

It was always easier in Purgatory.

Dean closes his eyes and does the best job he can of calming himself down. Then, he does what he hasn’t done in years--He thinks, hard as he can, at Cas’ retreating back.

Castiel.

Ahead of him, he can hear Cas’ footsteps drag to a startled stop. Dean keeps his eyes closed, the better to imagine the soft ‘O’ of surprise that Cas’ mouth always falls into whenever someone manages to get the drop on him. It doesn’t happen often.

Cas, you got your ears on?

Praying like this is a luxury. It always was, moments stolen from the constant blood and filth, seconds where Dean could close his eyes and pretend, just for a second, that there was something golden and his out there. Now, with a clock ticking down the seconds above their head, prayer is an indulgence that they can’t afford. But if not now, then when? If not here, then where?

Fix it, Rowena had said, and Dean had stared at her and hadn’t asked the one word that was on his lips--How?

Dean opens his eyes and fixes them on Cas. Cas, who hasn’t turned around, but whose fists are clenched at his side. His spine is a straight rod of tension that radiates outward.

I just wanted to...Shit, there’s so much that I need to tell you. I guess I should start by saying that I’m sorry, right? I know that it wasn’t your fault, any of it. I should have told you that before. And I’m sorry for snapping and...shit.

Dean’s eyes close as he realizes just how much he has to apologize for. They don’t have time for him to recount the thoughtless, petty cruelties of past years, all the times he’s snapped at Cas, the times that he’s dumped his frustrations and doubts squarely on Cas’ shoulders. Guy has to carry his own shit; he shouldn’t have to carry Dean’s as well.

I just...with all this shit going down, I realized that either one of us could kick it anytime. And I don’t...I don’t want you to think that I hate you. Rowena’s words echo in his mind, along with Adam’s, along with Lee’s.

Fix it.

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Aren’t we owed a little happiness?

Cas hasn’t turned around, but Dean can see the faint tremors which shake through his body. Without seeing Cas’ face, Dean has no idea of what he’s thinking, so he presses on, heedless, reckless--

There’s no world where I don’t want you with me. Just because...because Cas. If it ain’t you and me, then it ain’t no good. And I want you with me through all of it--And I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I hope to god that you can believe me when I say that I’m going to try to be better. To do better.

Slowly, like tectonic plates shifting, Cas turns around. His face is a roadmap of the years spent together, the fighting, the bitterness, the loss, the pain, but also of the good stuff--the laughs, the friendship, the flirting, the excited little hitch in Dean’s chest whenever he walks into a room and finds Cas there waiting for him. The reassurance of always having Cas at his side. The peace found in his presence.

Dean prays, eyes locked on Cas’ face.

Whatever kind of future guys like me get...I want you there. Good, bad, more of the same...I want you there. With me.

It’s as close to confession as Dean might ever get. Those three words don’t leave his lips often, but maybe. He looks at Cas’ eyes, gone wide with shock and hope and thinks maybe one day.

Cas moves. He walks towards Dean, away from the portal, with slow, aching steps. Dean trembles as he comes closer, the weight of years pressing down on him, the realization that this might be it wrapping him in cold, clammy arms.

Cas stands less than an arm’s length away from him. He looks and Dean, and Dean looks at him, and Dean never thought that he would miss the staring between them, but my god, seeing Cas’ face is a revelation.

“We need to hurry,” Cas says finally, his voice soft. Something vulnerable lurks in the spaces between vowels, hangs on the last inflection.

And as Dean waits, Cas’ hand stretches out towards him, fingers wrapping slowly around his wrist. The pads of Cas’ fingers press against his pulse point, reassuring and soothing and something in Dean that’s been clenched tightly for weeks breaks and relief floods through his body.

“Cas,” he says, a world held in the single syllable, but Cas just squeezes his wrist.

“Later,” he says, in that voice that makes Dean believe everything that he says. “Later, I promise.”

And this time, when he turns back towards the portal, Dean is at his shoulder, their fingers brushing and tangling as they head back home.

It was always easier in Purgatory.

---

There are as many worlds as kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fires to match the nature of a day, so do I.--John Steinbeck

---

Tags!

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @dizzypinwheel @homeriics @deansbff @stay-inside-the-salt-ring

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #spn15 #spn season 15 #15x08 #15.08 #15.08 coda #dean winchester #castiel #benny lafitte #coda fic #dothwrites #welcome to the end #fare thee well spn

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amanda-teaches · 4 years

Text

Into the Woods (1)

Part 1 of 2

Summary: When disaster strikes a fairy tale forest wedding, Y/N must take charge to save the lives of herself and her friends. Will she be able to survive being hunted while trapped in the woods?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Nightmare for @spndeanbingo

Word Count: 2979

Warnings: Swearing, show level violence and gore, suspense, minor character death, fear-filled situations, sarcasm, jerky guys, random moments of compensating humor. It’s basically a Supernatural thriller.

A/N: About 64,000 years ago, I entered a challenge the wonderful @foreverwayward was having for hitting 500 followers. Well, there wasn’t a due date, because she’s the sweetest, so I kept saying I would get to it and get to it, and then I never did. Well, surprise, here it is! This is the first part of a 2-part miniseries, and the quotes for the challenge will be included in the second part, which is posting tomorrow. Enjoy!!!

The moonlight, shining through the dark green trees, softly reflected on the string lights that were hung between the branches. They were blowing gently in the breeze, making the dense woods feel like an otherworldly fairy tale.

Your best friend, Lindsay, had spent days painstakingly transforming the unassuming woodland into a heavenly escape for her wedding, with long white tables strewn about, covered with crystal centerpieces and extravagant floral displays. As you watched her dance blissfully under the twinkling lights with her brand-new husband, Aidan, you knew all her hard work had more than paid off.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched her, sipping your glass of champagne off to the side of the clearing. Your feet were killing you, so you slipped off your heels, easily hiding your bare feet under the long hem of your dress.

“They look great together, huh?”

You spun around to find one of the groomsmen, what was his name? Brian? No, no...Brandon. Yes, Brandon, leaning against a nearby tree, looking you up and down appreciatively. “What? Oh, yeah,” you answered offhandedly. “They’re great together.”

You started to turn away, not wanting to encourage his obvious interest in you, but, suddenly, he was by your side, his alcohol-coated breath hitting your face. “I noticed you’re not dancing with anyone.”

You leaned away from him slightly, wanting to toe the line between polite enough not to make a scene and clear enough that he knew he was this close to being punched in the face. “No, I’m not,” you said firmly, crossing your arms across your chest.

But, he wasn’t taking the hint. “Well, you are now, baby!” he shouted, swaying a little as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the dance floor. You tried to pull back, but his grip was strong, and, before you knew it, you were on the dance floor, barefoot and struggling.

“Brandon, really, I don’t want to dance,” you insisted, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp. “Please let me go.”

He didn’t even hear you, closing his eyes instead and beginning to move his hips back and forth, your hand still trapped in his. You began to look around frantically for help, and your eyes zeroed in on Lindsay, who instantly registered your panic and left her husband’s side to push her way through the crowded dance floor to get to you.

She hadn’t even made it halfway when you felt Brandon unexpectedly drop your hand. Surprised, you instinctively stepped back, spinning his way as you did, but what you saw sent a shock of terror straight to your heart.

Brandon was no longer standing in front of you. Instead, he was laying at your feet, a massive, gaping hole where his heart had been.

The scream that tore from your throat was almost primal, as if the instinctual response of terror would chase away the unblinking, hollow eyes staring back at you. But, they didn’t disappear, not even when you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that they would.

You didn’t think it could get any worse, but then you opened your eyes. What you saw was a living nightmare.

Standing there, over Brandon’s lifeless body, was a man, but when he turned to face you, you realized he was hardly a man at all. He was more like a monster, a monster with long claws and razor-sharp teeth, and he was looking right at you.

You screamed again, this time urgently, desperately, only stopping when you realized that more than just your scream echoed around you. Looking over his shoulder, you saw three more monster people rush into the clearing, their fangs bared as they began to grab guests at random, flinging them across the woods like they were no more than rag dolls.

Your eyes shifted, meeting the golden, distorted ones of the monster in front of you, and you did the only thing you could do: you ran. Spinning around, you sprinted away, pausing only to grab Lindsay’s hand and pull her terrified form with you. “Come on, we gotta go!” you shouted, trying to rally as many people around you to follow you as you could. Most were too panicked, but a few reacted, including Aidan, who fell into step beside you, picking his frozen wife up into his arms without even breaking his stride.

You raced into the shelter of the trees, your small group following your lead. Behind you, you could hear the cracking of branches and the rustling of leaves as at least one of the monsters followed you, but you pushed on, somehow ignoring the stinging in your side and burning in your chest to keep running.

Eventually, the noise behind you dropped off, and you slowed, taking stock of your surroundings. You were deep in the forest, somewhere distinctly unfamiliar, so probably in the exact opposite direction of the safety of the main road and the parking lot where you had all left your cars. Aidan and Lindsay were still next to you, Lindsay now standing on her own feet, but still looking somewhat shaken. A few other people were milling around, but there was no sign of the monsters that had been chasing you.

“I think we lost them,” you panted out, clutching your side as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you sure?” Aidan asked, protectively moving closer to his wife while he looked back over his shoulder.

“No, I’m not fucking sure, Aidan! I’m not exactly an expert on evading fanged monsters who pull out people’s hearts, now am I?!”

Lindsay’s eyes whipped up at you, your outburst startling her out of her shock. “Y/N!”

You shook your head, closing your eyes for just a second. “Sorry...I’m sorry, I know you’re just worried. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Aidan smiled, giving you a reassuring gaze. “It’s ok. What do we do now?”

You looked around, taking in the growing number of people that had gathered around you. There couldn’t have been more than a dozen. A dozen out of nearly a hundred wedding guests. You hoped more than anything else the others had just found a different way to escape. “Um, well, obviously, we can’t go back the way we came.”

“Obviously,” Lindsay laughed, more out of fear than anything. “I've even watched enough horror movies to know that.”

Aidan reached down and grabbed her hand, calming her, and you couldn’t help but wish you had someone to do that for you right now. “Right, so we keep going.”

A man on the other side of you stepped forward, his suit ripped and tousled. “Wait, shouldn’t we try to get back to our cars, get help?”

You shook your head. “It’s too risky. We don’t even know what direction the parking lot is in, and those monsters are still out there. We need to find shelter and hunker down, at least until morning. Then, we can try going for help.”

He glowered. “Who put you in charge?”

You turned towards him, raising your chin resolutely. “No one, but I’m not about to be an idiot and stay out here any longer waiting to be killed. If you want to, help yourself.” You dismissed him, looking back at everyone else. “Anyone still have their cell phone on them?”

A few shook their heads, but a young man in the back held up his. “I already checked. No service.”

“Fantastic…” you muttered, spinning around slowly as you tried to come up with another idea. You were really grateful you’d taken off your heels right about now, but the forest floor wasn’t doing any favors for your feet. As you spun away from the group, you spotted a flash of light, the reflection of the moonlight on...something.

“We should go that way,” you said, pointing. “I saw something.”

You started to take a step, but Mr. Tousled Suit grabbed your arm. “Hold on there. How do you know it’s not the killer things? Maybe they’re leading us into a trap.”

Glaring up at him, you wrenched your arm from his grasp. “Because whatever it was, it reflected in the moonlight, which means it’s some kind of glass or metal, and the ‘killer things’ that attacked us weren’t robots, the last time I looked. It could be a house, with a phone, or a ranger station or something.”

Aidan stepped forward, flanking you. “Y/N’s right, Tim. We need help, and whatever she saw could be it. Besides, it’s not like we have a lot of options. We can’t stay out here.”

“Fine,” he huffed, stalking ahead towards where you had pointed. You hesitated for a second, turning to whisper to Aidan.

“Your side of the family?”

He smirked. “Annoying cousin. Every family’s got one, am I right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, for what felt like the first time in years, but then reality came crashing down on you again, and you stiffened. “We should get going.”

Aidan nodded and grabbed Lindsay’s hand again, quickly following you deeper into the forest. Soon, the three of you had caught up to Tim, The Tousled Suit, as you were calling him, with the others quietly following you.

Your guard was up, and you swore you jumped at every little noise. But, you kept going, determined not to be that girl in every horror movie who acts like an idiot and draws the monsters right to her. You were definitely channeling your best Emily Blunt right now, but, inside, you were frickin’ terrified.

After a few hundred yards, you started to notice the silhouette of a cabin forming in the distance, and you got excited, picking up your pace. You pictured a warm, welcoming woodsman with some kind of satellite phone and enough emergency supplies to survive a war. But, as you got closer, you quickly realized that the cabin was worn down and dirty. It probably hadn’t been occupied in years.

“It’s deserted,” Lindsay whispered.

Tim looked at you smugly. “Great plan, Wonder Woman.”

Okay, this one you really were going to punch. Aidan must’ve read your intention, because he stepped between the two of you. “It’s still better than nothing.”

You nodded, actively choosing to ignore your urge to kick the asshole in the balls. “Yeah. At least this will be defensible until morning in case those things come back. Let’s go.”

You led the way, carefully stepping up the rotting steps, each one creaking under your bare feet. “Remind me to get tested for tetanus if we survive this,” you mumbled.

Stepping onto the porch, you hesitated as you reached for the doorknob, your mind flashing to the possibility that this might be the monsters’ hide out. But, you knew you didn’t have a choice, so you grasped the handle, slowly pushing the door open.

To your relief, the one-room cabin was empty. You moved to the bathroom to clear it just in case, like you’d seen on cop shows, but there was no one there. It really was deserted. “We should be safe here.”

You moved around the room as the others filed in, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. You spotted a loose floorboard, and dropped to your knees, starting to pull it up.

A dramatic sigh came from behind you. “What are you doing now?”

You really were going to kill Tim. “Getting us a weapon. You got a problem with that?”

Aidan dropped down beside you as another sigh echoed behind you. “Here, I’ll help.”

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“No problem,” he said, his voice straining as he helped you pull. “Can’t have my wife’s best friend taking all the chances alone, now can I?”

With a final tug, he yanked it loose, holding it out to you victoriously. “Here.”

You smiled and grabbed it with both hands, when you heard a creaking sound coming from outside. The stairs.

“Quick,” you whispered, gesturing everyone back with a wave of your hand. “Against the back wall, now.”

Aidan moved like lightning, getting everyone back and moving to stand in front of them, his hands up, while you made your way to the door, wooden plank at the ready. As you watched the doorknob turn, you held your breath and raised the plank up over your shoulder, ready to bring it down the second the monster entered.

It all happened in an instant. The door opening, the shadows in the doorway, you bringing the wood down, only for it to be stopped mid air while everyone around you started to scream.

“Woah, woah, woah,” a deep voice hit you. You followed the hand holding the other side of your weapon, up the arm until you made eye contact with a pair of deep, green eyes. Human eyes, you were relieved to see.

“Who are you?”

The mystery man chuckled. “I think I should be asking you that question, sweetheart.” He pulled the wood plank out of your grasp, looking at it before tossing it on the ground. “Not very often a beautiful woman tries to hit me over the head with a 2 by 4.” He paused and gave you a once over. “Especially not one in an evening gown. Love the look.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly as he pushed his way past you, followed by an even taller man with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, wait a second!” you stammered, finding your voice. “That’s mine. You can’t just come in here and take things. You have no idea what’s going on out there.”

He glanced over at you and grinned. “Oh trust me, sweetheart, I know exactly what’s going on. And, that little wooden plank’s not going to do anything against a werewolf.”

“A were…” your voice trailed off as your mind raced to comprehend what he’d just said. No, it couldn’t be. It was impossible. But, then you flashed back to the golden eyes and sharp fangs, and an involuntary shudder ran through you. Nothing was impossible.

“Okay,” you started, your voice thankfully coming out a lot stronger than you felt, as you closed the door and turned towards the two men. “If you think you’re such an expert, then what will hurt a werewolf?”

The green eyed man’s grin returned, but this time it was softer, more natural, like he was pleasantly surprised by your reaction. “What?” you asked, your sarcasm returning. “Did you expect me to faint or run away in the opposite direction?”

He winked at you. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You stepped forward, standing toe to toe with him, although you had to look up slightly. “Yeah, well, I saw those things in action. Monster, werewolf, whatever, I know we can’t afford to underestimate them. So, just tell me what I need to know instead of pulling this whole mystery hero act, okay?”

His eyes widened at that comment, but his smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew. Before he could respond, the other stranger spoke up. “I’m Sam, and this,” he said, gesturing to the man you were currently staring down, “is my brother, Dean. We’re hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures like the werewolves that attacked you.” He turned his gaze to Lindsay and Aidan, taking in their attire. “It was your wedding? I’m so sorry.”

Lindsay nodded, stifling a little sob, and Aidan wrapped his arm around her. Your bravado fell from your face as you heard your best friend, and you thought you saw Dean’s eyes soften in response, but they hardened again at the sound of rustling leaves outside. “Sammy.”

His brother responded instantly, dropping the duffel bag he was holding and lowering to his knees to unzip it. He pulled out two silver knives and a gun, handing the knives to Dean, who tucked one in his belt, keeping the other one in his hand. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Silver,” Dean said, gesturing to the knife. “These can kill a werewolf.” He moved to the window, rubbing a circle in the dust so he could see out. “Sammy, we gotta secure the door.”

“Hold on,” you interrupted, drawing the attention of both men. “Aren’t you going to get us out of here? With your weapons, we could get back through the woods to the main road.”

Dean shook his hand. “It’s too dangerous. We’re outnumbered, and we can’t protect all of you with two knives and a gun. We’d be sitting ducks. Besides, it’s too late for that. They’re already here, we wouldn’t be able to get past them anyway.”

“They are?!” you exclaimed, pushing past him to look out the window. “How’d they find us that fast?”

“Probably the same way we did,” Sam said. “Followed the trail you left.”

Dean grunted. “Yeah, you didn’t exactly hide the fact that you came this way. Broken branches, footprints. We were tracking the wolves when we heard them attack, so then we had to start tracking all of you. It wasn’t hard.”

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Next time I run for my life from supernatural killer wolves, I’ll be more discreet.”

Dean chuckled, bringing a small blush to your face. God, Y/N, focus. “Okay, so they’re waiting out there, then we stay in here, right?”

“Mhmm,” Sam said, nodding. He turned to pick out Aidan and Tim. “Hey, help me move this?”

Together, the three of them pushed a large wooden table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, in front of the door. “There, that should hold, for a while at least.”

Dean nodded, only half listening, continuing to stare out the window, his eyes darting back and forth at any sign of movement. You looked back up at him, taking in the determined set of his jaw. It surprisingly made you feel just a little bit safer. “So, now what?”

To be continued...Read the exciting conclusion here.

Forevers- @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @impala-dreamer @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398 @hannahindie @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @wi-deangirl77 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ericaprice2008 @masksandtruths @roxyspearing @squirrel-moose-winchester @sweetpeamoose @babypieandwhiskey @deans-dirty-writer @roxy-davenport @heyitscam99 @spnbaby-67 @mogaruke @atc74 @dolphincliffs @closetspngirl @maddiepants @pinknerdpanda @focusonspn @deanwanddamons @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Dean Tags- @akshi8278 @whimsicalrobots @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets @alexwinchester23 @squirrelnotsam @deanwinchesterswitch

#foreverwaywards500 #spndeanbingo #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #part 1 of 2

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Shackled Ch 9

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

WARNINGS CHANGE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK EACH TIME.

Warning: Show level violence, implied loss of family, grieving, depression, spiraling, cursing, Demon!Dean, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery, psychological manipulation, questioning one’s sanity, emotional exhaustion, depression, blood, consuming blood, sexual content, biting, mental/emotional/psychological abuse, pushing another to commit suicide, mental anguish.

Word Count: 2678

Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to @cracksinthewalls for edits, suggestions, and all the flails. This chapter was the first picture I had in my head of this story, so extra thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield for urging me to actually write it out; wouldn’t have this story without you. Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. .

In case you missed it: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 Masterlist

Chapter 9

After the emotional train wreck of the morning, Miriam’s body screamed for a nap, sleep, any respite from consciousness, but she stubbornly fixed her second pot of coffee for the day. Sure, it didn't actually work for the kids in the Freddy Krueger movies, but they’d been trying to stay up for days and days. She just needed to make it until Sam got back tonight.

Hopefully.

A very bracing cold shower helped sweep a few more cobwebs from the corners of her brain. After she’d gone through her gear and figured out the laundry situation, though, she couldn’t think of any further excuses to avoid the demonic elephant in the bunker.

Just saving my sanity and soul, she thought bitterly. That’s all.

Miriam brought a chair with her this time, thinking it would at least be more comfortable than sitting on the floor. She’d briefly considered bringing one of the thick volumes from the library, but she knew better than to think the demon would actually give her peace enough to read.

He greeted her with wary silence, his human eyes suspicious and watchful. She dropped into the chair and faced Dean, determined not to show any of the anxiety that clawed her insides.

She stayed back, well clear of the devil’s trap, though she didn’t know how much good that would do. If he could project himself into her dreams outside the room, could he read her thoughts outside of the circle, as well?

She crossed her arms, leaning back and studying his face silently. She’d be lying if she said he hadn’t aged well. She’d been so distraught about Aaron’s close call the first time she’d met the Winchesters that she hadn’t truly noticed just how pretty Dean had been. Seeing those old pictures of him had shown her current self exactly what her younger self had been too distracted to notice.

Now, though. God, it was like someone had hand-picked each of his features and thought, How could this get any better?

She shook her head at her traitorous thoughts, snorting derisively.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know. Whatcha been up to, Miri?”

Her eye twitched at his use of her nickname; only Aaron had ever been allowed to call her that. Of course, Dean noted her reaction, probably filed it away for further use. He took in her defensive posture and uneasy silence, and he grinned.

“Heard from Sam? What’s the hold-up? Couldn’t find a padre to do the blessing? Couldn’t get enough blood?”

A half-dozen questions popped into Miriam’s head, but she didn’t take his bait. After all, even if she did ask him, she had no way to gauge if he would tell her the truth.

“I’ve never lied to you,” Dean said. She scoffed, and he had the audacity to appear offended.

“You don’t get to play mindfuck and then claim innocence,” Miriam said. Her headache returned with a vengeance, and suddenly it was all she could do to stay awake. She knew she couldn’t stand up to a mental sparring match with him, but apparently she didn’t have the simple common sense to not engage in the first place.

“Never claimed to be innocent, Miri. Just said I never lied. I would love to eat you up, and if I get the chance, I’ll gladly show you how that little torture scenario earlier should have gone.”

“Yeah, well, Sam will be back tonight, so don’t count on that chance, princess,” she shot back.

Dean ignored her insult. “Lotta hours between then and now. How you wanna fill ‘em?”

“Not listening to you,” she muttered, and just like that she was finished. She stood, done with sentry duty, and turned her back on Dean. He was still bound, he didn’t actually need anything from her, and there was no point sitting around letting him needle her until he got even further under skin.

“You’re worse than a bad tattoo,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn't spoken. Ten minutes in a room with him, and her self-control evaporated.

“Still running that mouth, huh? When are you gonna learn your lesson, Miri? You don’t have any more brothers to lose.”

She stiffened, hands digging into the top of the chair. She heard the pinching noise of her fingernails cutting into the leather, but upholstery was the last thing on her mind.

“Don’t,” she spit out, not sure if she was telling herself or the demon.

“Sam and I never should have stopped that witch. You might have learned your lesson a long time ago, saved everyone years of trouble.”

A fury began to build in the back of her mind, hotter than any she’d felt before. Miriam had been to the depths of so many emotions in her life: the limitless if irritated love for her brother, the fierce pride of her first successful hunt, the guilt and despair of losing Aaron, the confusion and aimlessness of the last year without him.

But never in her life had Miriam felt anything as terrible and all-consuming as this rage.

“Y’know what, I’ve got a pesky little brother problem I need solved. You seem to be pretty skilled in that area; help a demon out?”

Anything else Dean was about to say was cut off by Miriam’s fist colliding with his jaw. The demon’s head snapped to the side, and he remained in that position as Miriam glared down at him, hands at the ready. Her chest heaved with the effort of holding back.

And then she saw the bastard’s shoulders shaking; he was laughing at her. He turned his head, licking the blood from his split lip, his grin wide and infuriatingly smug. She didn’t even realize she’d hit him again until her fist began to sting. There was roaring in her ears, and blood streamed from the demon’s nose.

And still he laughed.

She screamed, her words lost in a storm of wrath, her only thought that she had to end him now. Her vision blurred as she hit him again and again, the pounding in her brain reaching a maelstrom. And then, suddenly, everything shrank down to a tiny pinpoint in the universe, the two of them caught in the eye of the storm, the hunter and the darkness, everything else shut out.

“Do it, sweetheart.”

Miriam was bent over Dean, one foot planted on the floor, her other knee pressed hard into his chest, the hair at the back of his head clenched in her fist. She'd dragged his head back, exposing the thick column of his neck, and she pressed the demon blade against his Adam’s apple just shy of splitting the skin.

“Atta girl,” he said. His smile was knowing now, his voice the embodiment of calm as he pressed his neck against the blade. A thread of crimson appeared where metal touched his skin, and her fury wavered. “Go ahead and betray Sam’s trust. Isn't that what you do with brothers? Kill ‘em, betray ‘em, but either way you let ‘em down, right?”

Blood trickled down Dean’s throat, and Miriam’s frenetic heartbeat began to slow as her eyes tracked its path.

“Miri.”

Obsidian eyes caught her gaze; Dean’s expression was serene. As she watched, the bruises and cuts on began to close up, leaving behind threads and smears of blood without sources. He leaned towards her until their faces were inches apart, and she relented with the knife until it rested in her numb fingers against his collarbone.

“Use your words, Miriam. Tell me what you want.”

The dream reverberated in her abruptly still mind, and she nearly dropped the blade. He stared her down, lips drawn, canines bared.

“Make a fucking decision,” he said, and though his voice was soft, velveted, it carried easily around the room. “Say it, Miriam. Say what you want.”

I don’t want this, her mind echoed, but it was a lie now, just as it had been in the dream. She wanted to forget, to lose herself in something besides the pain.

I want him, she thought.

She dropped the knife.

The demon blade fell, struck the toe of Dean’s boot, and spun away across the floor. Her splayed fingers clutched the material of his shirt as her head swam. She lowered her knee from his chest, sliding it down until it wedged into the space between his hip and the arm of the chair.

Her breath came in fits and stops, harsh and ragged against the frantic pounding of her heart. Dean lifted an eyebrow in challenge, his only reaction as she swung her other leg up to straddle him.

She tightened her grip on the collar of his shirt for balance and leverage to yank him close enough to bring their lips together. She closed her mouth over the freshly healed cut and bit down hard as she sank fully onto his lap. She felt the vibration of Dean’s growl in her chest.

When she finally pulled away, the salty, iron tang of his blood coated her tongue. His lips curled up on one side, and he slumped a little in the confines of his chair, sliding down and spreading his thighs further apart beneath her.

“Sure as hell hope you fuck like you kiss.”

The air had taken on a surreal, shimmering quality, and Miriam had no idea if she was awake or asleep anymore. She moved with slow deliberation, feeling as if she was underwater.

Drowning, she thought briefly as she threaded her fingers into Dean’s hair and kissed him again. Her tongue swept across his, and he flexed his thighs beneath her. A sharp hunger lanced straight to the pit of her stomach.

“Lose your clothes.”

At any other time, Miriam would have balked at the orders, at the sheer arrogance of his words and tone, but she didn’t want to care, didn’t want to think or decide.

She simply stood and did as she was told.

“Let me loose.”

Even in her dazed state, she didn’t dare set Dean free from his bonds, not that she had any way of opening the handcuffs. Instead, she dropped to her knees and worked on his belt and jeans, loosening and opening until he was as bare to her as he could get.

He caught and held her gaze for a long, silent moment, the air muffled and thick around them. Apparently satisfied with what he read on her face, he nodded and wet his lips slowly with the tip of his tongue.

“Come here,” he said with all the command of a king on his throne. And she did.

His fingers rippled against the arms of his chair, his eyes heavy-lidded as she sank onto the length of him. Every muscle in her belly was tense and heavy, and her walls clenched around him. He exhaled sharply, head going back for just a moment before he leaned forward, locking her in place with the force of his midnight gaze.

“Again,” he said. And she did.

She rode him slowly at first, still warring with herself deep inside. This broke with everything she’d ever been taught as a hunter, everything she’d ever believed. But hadn’t she lost everything that mattered to her because she followed those lessons, those beliefs?

She had paid for this freedom in blood, both hers and Aaron’s. She didn’t deserve this; she had goddamn earned it.

She looked into the eyes of the demon before her, bottomless wells of oblivion. There was no hesitation, no regret or worry or doubt. His features were awash with simple, carnal pleasure, a hunger that pulled her deeper, beckoned her to take the plunge and lose herself once and for all.

“Take what you want,” Dean said. His voice was low, rough, and it rasped down her spine. She sucked in a breath, rolling her hips, and he bared his teeth in a feral snarl. Her head dropped, their foreheads pressed together as she moved against him. Her nails dug into the back of his neck as the storm within her built to a crescendo.

Jump, she thought, just let go and jump. End this, end the pain.

“Get out of your head,” he growled, the tendons of his neck hard and strained beneath her fingers. A shock of unmitigated lust spiraled out from Miriam’s belly, flaring through every nerve in her body. Her back arched as she let out a hoarse gasp, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

“Stop thinking, stop caring, and just fucking take what you want.”

Her teeth sank into the smooth, taut column of his throat. Darkness exploded through her vision as the storm peaked. A harsh, guttural groan worked its way out of the demon’s throat as he shuddered within her, his curses reverberating in the very marrow of her bones. She rose and fell a final time before shattering around him.

…

“So, what now? Whatcha gonna do with all that newfound freedom and...what do the kids call it these days? Self-awareness?”

She ignored Dean, focusing on dressing herself as quickly as possible. She’d cleaned Dean up after they finished, feeling clumsy and detached from her body, and he’d been uncharacteristically silent as he watched her.

Her emotions seemed to have short-circuited somewhere in the middle of the chaos. She should feel ashamed, terrified, appalled by what she’d done. She should feel any number of negative, repulsed emotions, and instead, she felt more lost than ever.

What did she want now? Aaron was still gone. She was still alone. She had no desire to hunt. Or really do much of anything. Except…

“I’m all for another round, sweetheart. Maybe if you scratch that itch another time or two, you’ll actually figure out how to make that freedom permanent.”

“What do you…” Miriam trailed off, icy tendrils shame and dread creeping up her spine.

“Don’t tell me you thought a big, strong man was gonna solve all your problems.” He laughed, and acid washed through her stomach. “Sweetheart, I’m a demon: guilt-free zone over here. You want free of all that human emotional bullshit for good?”

His smile was hard, predatory, and she swallowed against the knot of alarm that tightened her throat.

“We’re hunters. You know how this works: you want free of all the complications that come with that soul, you got two ways out. Let me go, we make a deal, I take care of all those pesky emotions of yours.”

He waited as the weight of his words sank into her before casually adding, “Or you could just go take care of the problem yourself like a big girl. Save us all a lot of trouble. What do you say?”

He laughed aloud again at her shocked expression. “What’d you think, that we’d be all cuddles and kisses now that we’ve fucked? You’ve been dancing around me since you got here. Maybe you’re still too much of a coward to say it out loud, but you know what’s pulling you to me. No one plays with demons for fun, Miri.”

The image of a mirror, a seedy motel room, a gun flashed through Miriam’s mind. She throttled down the memory, but it was too fast. He’d seen.

“You're a hunter who can’t hunt anymore. You got your brother killed. You were supposed to guard me, and instead you fuck me. What’s the point of you? You got nothin’ left. You’re useless.”

“I-”

“Look at yourself,” he roared, and she fell back a step at his sudden vehemence. “This here is rock bottom, Miri. You’ve failed at everything else. You gonna fuck this up, too? There’s only one place further down. You want oblivion, you wanna be done with this life?”

She tried to sucked in a breath through paralyzed lungs as she backed away from the demon. Her heart crashed against her ribs, and for the first time she knew what Dean was going to say before the words left his smiling lips.

“You got one way out now. So do everyone a favor and take it.”

…

Chapter 10

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Choices Sam Ending - 6

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: Dark, curses, heartbreak, loss, violence, angst, mental torment, fear of abandonment, loneliness.

Choice: [You chose to kill the witch]

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

---

Feeling the anger flood your body, searing your veins with white hot rage, you clenched your jaw and lined up your gun with her wide blue eyes. Fuck. The witch killing bullets were just too easy. You wanted to hurt her. Really hurt her. Not just a bullet. That was too quick, too painless. After the torment she was putting Sam through, she deserved to get back tenfold what she’d given.

Taking a step forward you still kept your gun pointed at her. Using the threat of steel to keep those painted lips shut in case she thought she could slip in a quick spell and send you flying across the room. But as your boot connected with the carpet again, she clearly chose to increase her own future load of pain instead. A manicured hand reaching out to where Sam was standing lost and frozen.

The French tipped talons weren’t touching him. No… But they were proof that she was close enough to do so. To harm him, if she wanted to.

“No no no… Don’t come too close now. You don’t want him hurt do you?” The pain in your eyes betrayed you, and helped the witch find her voice again. Once more believing she had the upper hand. That she could win against the bullets in the chamber and the anger in your blazing eyes.

“What did you do to him? Fix it,” You could hear your voice trembling. Hear the raw, rough sound of agony they twisted into, as the broken pieces of your heart cut up the words before you spat them at her.

Yet, you couldn’t make yourself care. All that mattered was Sam. So, what if one stupid reject from an Audrey Hepburn lookalike competition thought you were weak? She was going to die, and you, you were her executioner. Whether she knew it or not.

Yet, apparently the witch only found weakness in your shattered voice, not the rage simmering below. Her own ego and misplaced feelings of victory only grew as she barked a laugh at you. Staying just within reach of Sam, she kept her blue eyes on him as she spoke, obviously still not brave enough to look down the barrel of your revolver.

“Lover boy here... He’s trapped in his own head. Can’t see a thing...” The witch in front of you drawled the words. Just echoing what she’d already told you. Like she had all the time in the world, like her death wasn’t just a small squeeze of a single trigger finger away. Hiding in the shadows between your broken heartbeats.

“You already said that. Get to the fucking point,” You took another heavy step forward as you laced your words in endless promises of hurt past anything the witch could ever imagine. The demand left your clenched jaw as more of a growl than actual words.

She somehow managed to keep her back straight, but you could see her attempt at false bravado slipping at the silent threats radiating off you and wrapping like tendrils around her neck. Making her next words shaky and slightly breathless before she found her power again.

“It’s… Uhm… The spell, it’s old. Ancient. In his head he’s here. Or, he was here. But all other life is gone. A world without monsters… No people either for that matter. His own little playground. Doesn’t that sound nice?” By the end of her agonising monologue your roles were once again reversed, her voice stronger where yours were just a pained gasp for air.

“No. It doesn’t,”

Sam… The same man who feared rejection and loneliness more than anything was all alone. Oh God. Did he think you left him? Was he wandering somewhere in there, lost? Thinking you’d just watched him walk in to deal with the fucking witches all alone and then turned on your heel to run away from him? Leaving him to fight the monsters instead of having his back like you’d always promised you would. Just like how his father handed him a gun instead of wrapping him up in a hug when he spoke of monsters in his closet as a child. Did he think you were just another back turned away from him?

“Well… Either way… It might be nice to some, for the first little while. But...” The damned witch wasn’t giving you time to spiral into the dark depth of your anguish. Speaking up from the darkness that had momentarily clouded your vision and violently pulling you out of it with a voice that sounded like viscous poison to our mind.

“But what,” With the realisation of how much torment the witch had forced on the man you loved, your anger was back, and it was oh so much more than it had been before. Searing rage had blazed, becoming a firestorm. Where there had been dark tendrils of fury chaining her to the spot, they were now the first flames, licking against the witch’s skin and making her flinch.

“I. Asked. You. What?!” Straightening your arms, you made a show of cocking the gun, letting her know exactly what to expect if she didn’t start talking, fast. A contained apocalypse, an explosion, within four white walls as you promised yourself you’d take her down with you. And oh, she could feel it. Threatening to turn that pretty black dress into ash along with her.

Burn witch, burn.

“But, I mean… He’s… Uhm… It’s been years for him by now,”

“What did you just say?” Your voice betrayed you. Easily extinguishing the fire raging in your chest as your voice broke over the realisation. And though the witch still cowered, she found her voice again in the loss of yours. Signing her own death warrant with words just a little stronger than a cowardly shiver.

“It’s the spell; time works differently in his head. Your boyfriend here, he’s been lost and alone in his own mind for years. All alone. No humans around. Just poor little Sam and the monsters in his closet,”

“Don’t you dare say his name bitch…” Your voice was shaky as you forced your breathing to stay even, to keep the lethal steel pointed at the witch without it trembling along with your body.

Years.

Sam has been stuck in his own mind, lost and alone for years. That realisation alone was enough to turn every last piece of strength left in you into ash as ice replaced fire in your veins. Travelling down the length of your spine and turning your body numb and cold with a pain so unbearable you couldn’t scream, you couldn’t cry, you couldn’t… Breathe (Y/N). You had to breathe, you had to save Sam.

Oh God… Years.

Sam Winchester, the man with a crippling fear of being abandoned had been deserted in the shadows of his mind for no more than thirty minutes in reality. But to him... To Sam it had been a lifetime of finally seeing all his worst nightmares come true. The one thing he feared more than anything else, yet secretly thought he deserved. In his mind, he was lost & alone. Leaving him thinking that everyone had abandoned him, that he wasn’t good enough.

Yet, he was still looking. Even as your heart shattered into a million small pieces that tore into your lungs and traveled through your veins in an attempt to tear you apart from the inside. Sam was still calling out for Dean. For you. He hadn’t given up. Even in an empty world. He was trying to find his way home. To you.

And that bitch was in the way. She was keeping Sam from finding his way back. Gritting your teeth, you saw red as you took another angry step forward. Fueled by the shattered fragments of your heart and angry acid that was slowly tearing through your veins with echoes of the eternity Sam had spent hurting in the last thirty minutes.

As you stepped closer, the witch lifted a manicured hand again, reaching out for Sam to stop you in your step. However, this time the threat didn’t end with inches of air between her and him as she let the back of her hand glide against his cheek. Slowly stroking her claws in a mock gesture of care against the clenched and trembling jaw of your lost hunter.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off him,” Clenching your own jaw, you fought the nausea of watching that monster touch Sam. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and a sick, jealous feeling heavy as a ton of bricks in your stomach. You knew you had no right to feel like that. But your body wouldn’t listen to you as something raw and possessive tried to claw its way out of your chest. She wasn’t allowed to touch him. Sam was yours.

As if she could hear your twisted thoughts, heavy in a possessive selfishness that you shouldn’t be feeling, she attempted to laugh at you. But the cowardly attempt at a barked laugh died out in a whine as you stepped forward again with an inhuman growl and raised your gun back up from where it had fallen limply to your side without you noticing.

“Witch killing bullets bitch. Remove your filth from Sam or I’ll do it for you,”

“You wouldn’t…” Her hand was still on Sam’s cheek. Still touching him, a manicured finger tracing the line of his trembling jaw. One French tipped nail against a soft bottom lip teasing a strangled sob from Sam as his clenched jaw loosened. She was touching him, she was torturing him, and it was all too much. Before you even realised what you were doing, you squeezed the trigger.

The bullet exploded from its chamber and straight towards the witch’s skull just as Dean ran into the room.

---

You could smell the mix of gunpowder and blood in the air. Taste the copper of your own blood in your mouth from where you’d bitten the inside of your cheek. Somewhere far away you could hear Dean’s voice calling out to you. But nothing really registered. Nothing except for Sam. Standing still and motionless in the middle of the room, the dead witch by his feet.

You killed her, but Sam… Sam was still lost to you.

Spells normally wore off when you killed the witch that cast them. So why wasn’t it wearing off? Damn it, you should have checked. She did try to warn you and even if you thought it was a lie, you should have checked.

You should have kept a clear head. But seeing her touch him in such a sickeningly gentle way… Her fingers against lips you’d spent the last year and a half daydreaming about, it had all just been too much when paired with the knowledge of the years passing in Sam’s mind.

Squeezing your eyes shut you swallowed hard as your jaw clenched around the nausea and pain that was sitting heavy in your stomach. You could still hear the gunshot echoing in your ears, feel your finger on the steel of the trigger and the strain of tense arms keeping it raised and pointed at the empty air where the witch had been only moments earlier. Here one second, gone the next… How long did it take to squeeze a trigger? How long had it been since you shot her?

“(Y/N)! Hey! What’s wrong with Sammy?” As Dean tried to pry the revolver out of your stiff fingers, the warmth of his hand brought you back to reality. The sound of worry and the early warning signs of panic clear in the hunter’s voice as green eyes jumped from your numb and frozen form to his brother’s.

“I… I thought if I… I don’t know…” You couldn’t find the words. You had to tell Dean. Tell him about what the witch had done to Sam and… Oh god. What you had done to his little brother.

Sam was stuck and you did that to him. You killed the witch. Even after all your big talk about not abandoning him you’d done something so, so, so much worse. You’d watched as his mind was reshaped into a solitary prison, and then you’d killed the only one who held the key. Crushing his last chance of escape. You did this to him.

You killed her.

Sam wasn’t waking up and she could have fixed it. Maybe she was the only one that could bring him back. There had been other spells before… Spells that couldn’t be ended with a bullet. You knew better. What if Sam was stuck forever? All because you let your rage control you and rearranged her skull, permanently.

“Sam’s trapped in his head… He can’t see us Dean, he can't see anyone and… Damn it Dean, she said it feels like years to him. Years,” It hurt to push the words out. Not because it made them more real. No, the sight of Sam, lost and alone in front of you already did that. But because you knew your words would hurt Dean too.

“Alright, so we get Sammy back,” Dean’s voice was trembling, but he didn’t ask any other questions. He wasn’t blaming you. Why wasn’t he blaming you? You just pushed a fuckton of agony his way, and you hurt his family. He should be blaming you.

“He’s stuck and... Oh god, I’m sorry, I… I did this to him,” You forced the words out through a sob. Needing Dean to understand the guilt on your shoulders. To deal with you like the Winchester’s always did with monsters; a bullet to the brain and a shallow grave somewhere in the woods. But your best friend wouldn’t budge as he gently removed the gun from your hands and wrapped you in a warm hug.

“It’s not your fault (Y/N),” Dean’s voice was a deep familiar rumble. The comfort of a friend. Comfort you didn’t deserve. He just wasn’t seeing what you were yet. What you’d doomed Sam to. You couldn’t let him comfort you, you couldn’t stain him like that.

“Yes it is! What if she could have brought him back? And I killed her?” You pushed against Dean’s arms, stepping away from him and closer to Sam. Though you didn’t deserve to be near him either. Your tattered and broken heart was barely hanging on to his sleeve by its seams. Still you needed to be close to him. To know he was still alive, if a bit lost on his way home to you.

“No. We’ll find an answer. We’ll look for their spell books and…”

You cut Dean’s words off with a broken sob shaped like a barked laugh. Bitter tears stinging your eyes and clogging your throat as you forced the words out. Another burden of blame on your shoulders.

“I burned their books…” The flames licking against brittle spines that had tasted like victory only 45 minutes earlier now burned like defeat as you forced yourself to swallow down the sour words in your mouth. Defeatist words. You’d destroyed not one, but two ways to save Sam with your own hands. Hands that had been supposed to build him a home. Not tear down the small place he’d already made himself in the cruel world you were living in.

“We will get him back (Y/L/N). There’s other witches. Maybe Rowena…” You blocked out Dean’s voice. You knew he meant them; that they weren’t just empty promises to soothe his best friend. Dean would do anything to save his baby brother. Just like you would. But right then, you couldn’t listen to hope. Not when you were standing numbly in front of Sam, watching him struggle in desperate silence.

You wanted him to look at you, to see you. To warm up your freezing body with sunshine eyes, unclouded by loneliness and fear. But he was lost in his fortress turned prison, and where you’d been his sentinel you’d now become his prison guard. You needed to make him look at you, but your body wouldn’t listen to you. Your arms stayed limply at your side as you just watched him. Could you even touch him? You had no more right to wipe away those frustrated and heart-breaking tears than that damned witch did.

“I’m so sorry Sam. Oh god… I’m so sorry,” Licking at chapped lips you found your voice again. Seeking forgiveness even though you knew he couldn’t hear you.

“Hey… It’s not your fault kiddo, alright?” The answer came from behind you, not the man in front of you as Dean tried to absolve you of sins he had no say in lifting from your shoulders. You loved him… He was family. But his little brother was lost, and he was just afraid of losing his best friend too. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Sam, come home to us… Please?” You didn’t answer Dean’s attempt at salvation. You were too far gone in the imagined shadows of Sam’s mind. Walking next to him down empty streets. Searching the abandoned bunker alongside him, though invisible to the man himself as you clung to his shirt sleeve, broken pieces safety-pinned just out of sight of lonely hazel eyes.

“(Y/N)....” Dean’s voice was more insistent now as he tried to shake you out of your numb shock. Out of your own sentencing laced with guilt, shame and decisions you could no longer take back. The older hunter was trying to get you to listen, but you could barely hear him.

“I’m begging you alright? Please… I’ll do anything,” Crossroads deals, other witches, sacrifices. You’d do anything to bring him back. Be it prayers to devils or angels alike. Though you knew, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t want that. Even in his own little personal slice of hell. If you sold your soul to bring him back, that would be the same as abandoning him all over again. Yet, if you had to…

“Hey… (Y/N), we’ll get him back. But you can’t fall apart on me now. We’ll bring him home and we’ll get him back,” A big calloused hand landed on your bare arm, but you shook it off as you stepped closer to Sam instead. You weren’t ready for the real world yet. You couldn’t explode into action and handle this like a hunter. Not just yet.

“Hey Sam… I’m still here. I… Please come back to us ok? Dean and me, we need you. I need you Sam. I…” Taking a shaky breath you lifted yourself up on the balls of your feet, clutching at the collar of Sam’s flannel shirt. Your desperate pleas dying on your tongue as you let your lips ghost over his unresponsive ones in the faintest whisper of a kiss.

“I love you Sam Winchester…” But your confession, one you’d promised yourself you’d never speak out loud to anything but your bedroom ceiling, came a little too late. Sam couldn’t hear you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you kept your lips just a breath away from his, knuckles whitening around the flannel as you tried to use his trembling gasps for air to ground you. Dean was right. You wouldn’t abandon him. If less than an hour felt like years in his mind you couldn’t stand around here and fall to pieces for even another minute, adding to the eternity in his mind.

“Is anybody there?” Sam’s broken and scared voice flowed across your chapped lips as you forced your eyes back open. Looking into dull eyes clouded by shadows and loss. No, you’d bring back the sunshine in them. You’d be the sharp gust of wind that forced those clouds away. No matter what you had to do. Consequences be damned.

You’d find a way to save him. You had to. Sam was living his worst nightmare and you weren’t going to abandon him now. You’d do anything for him.

Anything.

---

You reached the end - You got Ending 6: Sam: Lost & Alone - Bad Ending

[Click here to return to the start and try again]

[Alternatively, click here for the full masterlist breaking down each path] Note that choices are named so it may spoil the experience.

---

Please tell me which ending you got in a message, comment, ask or through a reblog. This took a lot of time to make, and I want to hear from you guys, and see if you enjoyed it. That way I’ll know if I should make more as well as know which parts you enjoyed/where I can improve them.

I already have some ideas for some other ones; an undercover office based one that’s fluff vs. smut… Plus another hunt based one with TFW. But I won’t start them if it doesn’t seem like there’s any demand for them.

You can also tell me which ending you got by clicking here to answer my poll.

---

43 notes · View notes

unityghost · 4 years

Text

Morning Glory

Part 25 (yikes, wow, homegirl needs a social life) of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series.

Based on one of the most intriguing prompts I've ever received:

Gabe's always torn between wanting to be hurt and wanting to be looked after, so if (somehow) he ended up being caught by a djinn what would he see? and how would he react once someone (read Sam lol) woke him up? like, would he be guilty for dreaming of going on hunts with the Winchesters and feeling like family or freaked out BC he'd just seen Sam attack him with the archangel blade? - Type40Treklock (Fanfiction.net)

It took me too long to get to this. Tumblr followers ... you have been patient with me. Thank you and I'm sorry for the wait!

Morning Glory

Is everything okay?

You’re not hurt, are you?

I’m not the only one who’s worried. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll come and shake you out of whatever hangover is keeping you from texting back.

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupted, “I doubt that they’ve gone four days without contact just because of a drunken stupor.”

Gabriel looked up from his phone. “Oh yeah? You’d put it past Dean to take a long-ass Epicurean detour?”

“No, I wouldn’t. But we should at least have heard from Sam. Don’t you agree?”

Gabriel sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

“In any case,” Castiel went on, “You’re right that there’s nothing in your recent exchanges with Sam to shed any light on their predicament.”

“Hey, hey, there might not even be a predicament. This radio silence could be chalked up to anything.”

“Yes.” Cas looked somber. “That’s exactly why we’re here. Speaking of which, I don’t mind flying you back home if you feel ambivalent about this.”

“Cas, please. I already told you eight hundred times that I don’t want you looking into this by yourself.”

“You know that I’m perfectly capable of self-preservation.”

“All right, I get it: I’m not. Don’t try to butter me up with subtext, Castiel.” Besides their voices, the only sounds were the twin notes of a chickadee hiding in the brambles that flanked a nearby playground. The air was heavy and warm, and the sky threatened rain. “Now listen: are you really going to spend your energy on how high I’ll flip my lid if I find Sam hurt, and not stop to consider how I’d react to you getting caught off guard just because you didn’t come with backup?”

Cas grew uneasy. “It isn’t that I don’t understand, Gabriel; I just ...” But he didn’t continue.

“I’m going to take the east wing,” Gabriel told him. “You take the west. Let’s scope the place out for those negligent blockheads instead of wasting time.”

A weird case out in some abandoned hospital, Sam had told Gabriel. But pretty routine, it looks like. Doubt it’ll take more than a couple of days.

Cas had had the good sense to trace the brothers’ cell phones. Locating the signal meant two things: one, the phones were turned on and Sam and Dean could have been answering if they wanted to; and two, Cas and Gabriel didn’t have to spend too much time figuring out exactly which drowsy pocket of suburban Idaho hosted the ruins of an orphaned hospital.

Cas and Gabriel strode to the doors together, but Castiel pulled Gabriel back before either could go inside. “Wait.”

“What?” Castiel appeared vaguely uncomfortable. “I … I have my grace.”

“Mazel tov.”

“And you have ... you have ...”

“Not yet clawed my way back to the surface of the pitiful noodle-pond that used to be raw, untethered cosmic power? What, really, are you sure? Because I hadn’t noticed.” He shook Castiel off. “Cut it out. I wouldn’t have followed you if I thought I couldn’t handle my part in the game.”

That was not entirely true, Gabriel acknowledged privately. He wasn’t useful so much as he was expendable: if he could buy them any kind of time, the extent to which he was able to protect himself wouldn’t matter. What was important was that they find Sam and Dean and, if either of the brothers were injured or trapped, ensure their safety.

The doors were not locked, and probably hadn’t been for a long time – partly because the empty building was ideal for anyone who didn’t want to be noticed by police, and partly because crime rates in this town were impressively low.

The lobby offered an unsettling mixture of scents: there was the damp, rotted wood of the front desk; there was rainwater that had leaked through cracks and crevices; they could smell moldy blankets and a warm undernote of something that might have been human decay.

“Let’s split up,” said Gabriel, just as Castiel said, “Let’s stick together.”

“What did I say about east and west?” Gabriel reminded him. “That’s what this is for.” He held up his phone. “I’ll text you to let you know where I am. You do the same. Or, if things get out of hand, call me and use code phrase ‘Bengal cat.’”

“I really think –”

But Gabriel ignored him to follow the metal wall plaque that directed him to the east wing of the hospital.

What he found was disconcerting: several of the beds were stripped, but some displayed carefully folded sheets that had flushed to the color of jaundice. There were rooms full of cots lined up side by side, and others whose beds had been turned over or shoved into corners. A few of the wards, and one stairwell, had old bloodstains on the floor.

A vengeful spirit, we think, Sam had said. Possibly more than one.

Gabriel bent down to peer beneath each bed. He knew that neither Sam nor Dean could lie there undetected, but perhaps he would find clues, something to guide him to their exact whereabouts or to suggest that they were in trouble.

Truthfully, Gabriel hoped he would find nothing. He was not searching for a body, and had no desire to muddy that conviction with anything that would look at home in an evidence bag.

Any luck? Castiel texted.

I found a mouse, Gabriel wrote back.

A mouse?

Neither of them; I checked. It wasn’t wearing plaid.

Half an hour later, Gabriel got in touch again: I can’t find anything. Gonna check the basement.

The message didn’t send. So he tried a second time, and once more it failed to go through.

Gabriel didn’t have much faith in his relationship with modern technology, because there was plenty he had missed during his time in Hell, and he hadn’t taken much time to acquaint himself with the multiplicity of devices that had flooded the world he thought he would never see again. It wasn’t a priority; there was so much else to learn, so much else to figure out.

With reluctance, Gabriel tried communicating with Castiel telepathically. If Cas felt anything, there was nothing to show for it, and Gabriel did not want to exhaust what little grace he might be able to access in case of an emergency. His grace had lately been fluid, unpredictable, and messy; he could rarely anticipate how much he might have at his disposal at any given time.

He could only assume that the message would send sooner or later, that perhaps it was moving slowly because of signal problems.

Not until Gabriel was in the basement did he realize exactly what was in the basement.

He squared his shoulders and reminded himself that of course they had to check the morgue; it made sense. The morgue was like any other section of the hospital, a room that might contain the living as well as the dead – and, perhaps, the not-quite-living and the maybe-dead.

But Gabriel hesitated. There could be no denying the stench of human putrefaction at this point. This was the first time since his arrival that he realized Cas might have been right to worry about him.

So he detached himself and pretended that he was watching another individual press his palms to either of the cold metal doors.

That was when somebody seized him from behind.

“No!” Gabriel screamed, and tried to throw his captor off. Its grip was hard and tight and unforgiving; this grip was confident and hungry, and Gabriel knew what that meant.

For a moment, he wondered how he could have ever confused the cautious warmth of Sam’s hands with the hands of a monster: this kind of touch, this kind of brutality, was fully recognizable as evil.

He tried to kick the thing’s legs and bite its hand. He felt a palm pressed to his mouth and this time not only smelled but tasted the meaty odor of decay.

He screamed into its hand until there was the tang of blood in his throat. He reached inside of himself for his grace, desperate for power that simply wasn’t there.

“Sleep,” the thing whispered into his ear, and Gabriel grew sick with panic. His nightmares were here, alive and real and ugly, and there was no one to help guide him back to a sense of security.

Gabriel could not remember ever wanting Sam as badly as he did in that moment.

The hand on his mouth was so strong he couldn’t breathe. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he didn’t need to breathe in order to survive, but the terror didn’t abate.

He was still screaming, still sobbing, when he opened his eyes and saw that he was lying in bed in an unfamiliar room illuminated by sunshine.

The smell of death was gone, replaced with the cool scent of cleaners and laundry detergents. The carpet was spotlessly white, and in the corner stood a table with a half-empty bottle of wine and four glasses that still had crimson dregs at the bottom.

He choked on his own tears and stole as many quick, ragged breaths as he could.

The door clicked open and he scrambled away, slipping off of the other side of the mattress.

“Gabriel!”

It was a voice he knew, and the arms that lifted him back onto the bed were not the arms of a brute.

Gabriel was shaking and moaning. He knew how helpless and pathetic he sounded, but he also had heard himself make those sounds before.

“You’re all right,” Sam murmured. “Just a bad dream, okay? Just a bad dream. You’re all right.”

“Where am I?” Gabriel rasped. “What happened?”

“Ssh, it’s like I said - I think you just had a nightmare. Sorry, I thought a nap would help you feel better. You wore yourself out setting all this up for us, I think.”

“What are you - ” Gabriel blinked rapidly, shivering and whimpering as he tried not only to form a question but to figure out whether it was even safe to ask. “Set what up? I didn’t - I don’t - ” His eyes flicked over the room, and he knew then what he wanted to say - A non-smoking suite, I see, spic-and-span as Aunt Doris’s pearls - but couldn’t get it out.

Sam seemed at something of a loss. All he could offer was a hand on Gabriel’s arm, trying to steady him.

“Two minutes ago,” Gabriel managed, “I - I was - ” There was the possibility that he had finally broken, had finally lost his mind really and completely; and the thought made him feel dizzy.

But there was a second possibility that slowed his blood to an icy crawl. “Sam?”

“What is it, Gabe?”

“Does Asmodeus have anything to do with this?”

Sam’s voice was gentle. “Hey, no, of course not. He won’t hurt you again, bud."

“He can mess with me; he can screw around with my memory, my perception - ”

“Yes. He used to be able to do that.” Sam gripped Gabriel’s shoulder. “But not anymore. You’re safe, Gabe, I promise.”

“Where am I? Am I still in Idaho?”

“Idaho?” Sam used his sleeve to help wipe Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel didn’t try to resist. “With this many beaches and kangaroos?”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Jesus O’Malley, we’re in Australia.”

“Yeah. You brought us here, remember? Set up this hotel for us. Everyone else is down at the pool right now. Jack got to hold a koala this morning. You did a lot for us, and I think maybe you’re just exhausted.”

Gabriel shivered. “Sam, did you ever have so much trouble telling them apart? Dreams and - and what’s really happening?”

Sam considered. “I don’t think so.”

“Not even with Lucifer?” Gabriel was desperate for Sam to be right; he longed for confirmation that he really had just tired himself to the point of oblivion. Or perhaps Sam was lying to him and pretending that Gabriel had achieved something of which he had not been capable for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Sam frowned. “With who?”

“You know who. With my skeezewaffle of a brother.”

Sam looked puzzled. “Who, Jack’s dad? I met him twice at most.”

Gabriel simply stared.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Um. I just … I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t feel - ”

“This should have been obvious right away.” Gabriel felt his shoulders relax slightly: he was in no danger from Asmodeus, or from his own insanity.

Before Sam could press him, there was a vigorous rapping at the door.

Gabriel swept the heels of his hands over his eyes in a final attempt to dry them. “Is that Africa by Toto?”

Sam sighed and went to open the door.

“Catch!” cried Dean, throwing a towel across the room to land on Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel tore it off. “This is wet, you maniac! I don’t need your cooties.”

“It ain’t my fault if your reflexes are molasses.” Dean was clad only in neon-orange swim trunks. “I figured a whiff of chlorine might wake you up.”

“You’re gross, Dean,” said Sam.

Castiel and Jack stood behind Dean, dressed more modestly with t-shirts over their swim trunks.

“Jack,” Gabriel croaked. He felt a strangely potent sense of relief at the sight of his nephew.

But Cas spoke first. “Are you feeling refreshed? If you’re up to it, we can go out for dinner.”

Gabriel didn’t reply. Instead, he did what he would have done in any situation: he looked at Sam, hoping he would have answers.

“We’ll order in,” Sam said. “It’ll be fun to try some of the local cuisine, don’t you think, Gabriel?”

“I … I guess.”

“Poor guy’s still recovering from last night,” Dean interrupted. “Doesn’t even have his voice back from the karaoke.” He nudged Gabriel, who tensed at the contact. “Don’t worry, I got the best of your performance on video.”

“Really?” exclaimed Jack. “I want to see.”

Dean glanced at Gabriel. “I don’t know if I’d sanction a G rating on that one.”

“Well,” Castiel chimed in, “We had a good night too.”

Jack’s face brightened. “Yeah, Sam and Cas and I had pizza and ice cream and watched the latest Steve Irwin special.”

“Lucky bastard and all his academy awards,” said Dean. “I hear he’s got his own theme park now.”

Jack peered more closely at Gabriel. “Uncle Gabe - have you been crying?”

“No,” said Gabriel.

But Jack looked disturbed. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“Really? I mean, uh - I’m fine. I’m okay. I think I might be allergic to Vegemite.”

Jack took a moment to evaluate, then stepped forward and hugged him.

Gabriel froze.

“I love you,” said Jack. “You’re the best.”

It took Gabriel several seconds to remember that he was supposed to hug back. The embrace lingered until he pulled away, before the smell of chlorine and the dampness of Jack’s hair on his cheek could become any more real.

Dean spoke up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a shower.” He waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door. Then there came the hiss of running water.

Sam groaned. “You can kick him out and make him use the bathroom you set up for him.”

“I think he likes your custom shampoo,” Jack told Gabriel.

“So I suppose after we’ve all freshened up,” said Cas, “We can decide what to do. Or rather, Gabriel, you can decide whether you have any energy to go out. Trust me, no one will feel neglected if you’d prefer to keep things on the quieter side this evening. Oh, and Sam - ” Cas laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “If you aren’t feeling up to anything - ”

“Don’t worry about me, Cas.” Sam smiled. “ I’m fine.”

“I know, but … the last hunt was a lot. You were in pain. So if you’re still feeling the effects, we can lie low tonight. I can make sure that - ”

“Relax. I’m good. It’s like Dean said at breakfast, you’ve done enough for us. All right? No need to keep trying to take care of everyone.”

Gabriel’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them. “What hunt are we talking about?”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve hardly thought about it since you healed me up. Cas is overreacting. Which I appreciate, but I’m really okay.”

Cas nodded. “All right.” He slid his hand from Sam’s shoulder. “In that case, why don’t Jack and I go back to our room and settle down for a while? I have no reason to suspect that Jack is anything but satisfied with the shampoo in our bathroom.”

Jack smiled at Gabriel, and Gabriel snapped his eyes away.

“So,” Sam began once Jack and Cas had exited the room, “You okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Sam insisted. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

“I’m … I’m feeling fine, Sam. It’s like you said: just a really awful dream.”

“Do you want me in here with you? I don’t mind sticking around for however long you need me for.”

“I don’t. Obviously I’ve got your brother to keep me company.”

Sam’s eyes flitted to the bathroom door. “He means well, I guess. I think he needed some time off.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Me, my supercharged celestial batteries, and a non-stop flight to the land down under.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit, okay? And if Dean gives you any trouble just throw him to the dingoes.”

“Mm. You know I will.”

Gabriel watched Sam exit the room, studiously ignoring the surge of grief at the back of his throat.

He gave himself no time to dwell on what would happen next.

The first place he checked was the bedside drawer. There, he found a copy of the King James Bible that contained what were more than likely Gabriel’s emendations: “Don’t be afraid, Mary,” said the angel, “For you are in favor with Daddy-o. Congratulations, it’s a boy, and you shall call him either Jesus or Scott - I forget which one.”

He moved to the closet, which turned out to be full of clothing better suited for a wedding or seventies-themed disco party than a relaxing weekend away. Which, Gabriel reflected, made sense if he and Dean had decided to take advantage of traits that, in another life, might have led to something like companionship.

When an examination of the closet yielded no results, Gabriel moved to the table and bent over the duffel bag on the chair. When he unzipped it he found swimwear, perhaps his own. There were trunks, a pair of goggles, some flippers.

Sitting on top of the aquatic regalia sat a rectangular box: slim, unassuming, and discreetly coffin-like.

Feeling triumphant, Gabriel lifted the lid.

Then he heard the bathroom door open behind him.

“Don’t,” said Dean.

Gabriel straightened up but didn’t turn around. “It’s not real.”

“It kind of is, man.” The shower was still running. Gabriel could feel the steam coming from the bathroom, as lifelike as anything else he had encountered thus far. “Look, nobody’s trying to force philosophy into what should just be a nice little family getaway, but - ”

“Don’t use that word,” Gabriel snapped.

“What word?”

“Shut up; you know what word. And I agree that we should keep superfluous proselytizing to a minimum.”

“If you do this,” Dean told him, “You’re making it real.”

Gabriel sighed, then turned to face him. Dean had a towel around his waist.

“You know what, sensei?” Gabriel said. “Get back in the shower and don’t watch if it bothers you so much.”

“Once you see how easy it is, Gabe - ”

“It isn’t easy. It’s practical. Listen, pal, I’ve been around long enough to remember how to pop this lock. Getting out of here will be a breeze no matter what shortcuts I gotta take.”

Dean shook his head. “What reason to you have to leave?”

“You know perfectly well what reasons I have.”

“You’re worried about Sammy, right?” There was an odd melancholy in Dean’s face - an expression halfway between resignation and desperation that Gabriel had never seen on him in real life. “Now’s as good a time as any to worry about your own happiness, Gabriel.” Gabriel tensed, annoyed by the warmth of his full name. “You’re allowed to stick around for you if that’s what you want.”

Gabriel swallowed. “It’s not what I want.”

“Really? Just because you know Sam would miss you?”

Gabriel traced his fingers over the flat of the blade as though toying with a Rubik’s cube. “I miss him, too.”

“He’s right here, Gabe.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“And what’s he going to say when he finds out about this? You have any idea what kind of pain this would cause him? To know what you did to get out? To know how damn easy it was to get your hands on the archangel blade in your deepest fantasies?”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “Who says he has to find out?”

And he raised the knife.

Gabriel remembered very little of what happened after it was done. Somebody lifted him, possibly even tried to carry him - until he fought with such ferocity that the newcomer let go, and Gabriel staggered forward with some assistance.

Somewhere amid the confusion and exhaustion, he registered that there was no odor of death on the arms that guided him. The voice in his ear, saying things like, “Try not to fall over” and “It’s just me,” was soft and familiar.

The next thing of which Gabriel was entirely conscious was waking up in his own bedroom, rolling onto his side, and seeing nobody.

Not real, he thought, but then remembered that it probably was. He had done what needed to be done in order to extract himself from that venomous amusement park with all its perfect temptations.

He pushed off the blankets. Someone had made sure to leave the bedside light on. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn on his trip to the hospital. Gabriel felt himself relax slightly: nobody had stripped him down.

When he tried to sit up, he hissed in pain. Peeling back his shirt, Gabriel saw that there were bandages on his abdomen, moistened with blood. Of course - there would not be enough grace for him to heal any injuries sustained during unconsciousness. He hoped it was Sam who had tended to the wound.

That was when Gabriel remembered that Sam could be anywhere, that he might have imagined his presence in the hospital earlier. Panicked, Gabriel forced himself to his feet and ignored the dizziness that came with the sudden movement.

He heard hurried footsteps, and the door slammed open.

“Sit down!” Sam cried, hurrying over to him. “Come on, don’t try to get up - not yet.”

He guided Gabriel back down.

“I’m fine,” said Gabriel. “Just made the fatal mistake of trying to stand up before all my senses had a chance to rehabilitate themselves. Did your spidey senses tingle?”

“No, I - I just heard you moving around.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, willing the vertigo away. “Hey. Potato brains. You told me you were facing down a vengeful spirit.”

“Yeah, we were.” Sam tucked the blankets more securely around Gabriel’s shoulders. “The djinn was the one to kill the guy.”

“Well, didn’t you two just hit the jackpot.”

“You shouldn’t have tried chasing after us, Gabriel.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” Gabriel opened his eyes and focused on Sam’s face. “I didn’t want Cas going solo.”

Sam sighed, looking worried and relieved all at once. He seemed to be waiting for Gabriel to speak.

Finally, Gabriel did. “Look, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been able to defend myself. At the very least to put up a good fight. If my grace levels were anywhere near where they should be, that thing wouldn’t have gotten within two feet of me, let alone into my head.”

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

“How long was I down there, Sam?”

“Not long, I’m pretty sure. We heard you screaming.” Gabriel blinked. “Then you were down there with me? I was on your trail?” Please tell me I did something right.

Sam nodded. “By then, we’d caught on that we might be looking for more than just a pissed-off spirit. Guess you were in the right place at the wrong time, huh?” He forced a smile. “Thanks, but why didn’t you at least wait for backup?”

“Didn’t want to lose time. Cas was half-convinced we were on the prowl for a pair of Winchester-shaped corpses. Sam … in what universe did you think it was okay to ignore us for that long?”

Sam shrugged. “Couple of teenagers stole our phones. And wallets.”

“How hunterly of you to allow adolescent fugitives to make off with your valuables. Why didn’t you at least pray to me or Cas? I mean - I don’t know that I would’ve heard you, my grace being as floppy as it is, but he would have.”

Sam offered another weak smile. “We didn’t think about that, Gabriel. We weren’t in any serious trouble. Why would we ask for help when we didn’t need it?” He peered more closely at Gabriel, whose expression must have betrayed something of which Gabriel was unaware, because Sam added, “Hey, it’s okay; I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be that freaked out. We got everything back in the end, when we - ” He hesitated for a second before concluding. “When we found the kids in the morgue.”

“In the … ah. I see. The rendezvous spot for illicit recreation.”

“Just enough to mortify their God-fearing parents, probably.”

“I’m sure Dad was plenty concerned with their antics. What about Castiel; is he all right? Did he get out?”

“He’s fine. Cas wasn’t hurt.”

“All right. Good to know I’m the only one who can’t look out for myself.”

Sam caught the bitterness in Gabriel’s voice. “Stop.”

“No, actually - ” Gabriel pushed himself up a little straighter. “Don't you want to know what kind of utopic frenzy that bastard cooked up for me?”

Sam was quiet. Then he replied, “Honestly, I kind of do.”

“Good. Because in the interest of science, I want to get it on the record that I can tell you the whole thing without breaking down. As a reward I’ll let myself take home that this didn’t all happen just because I’m brittler than fried seaweed.”

Sam looked pained. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand.”

“No, no, let me see - so I have it on the books - how far I can push myself before sacrificing my dignity to an inflamed maw of shitty memories. First, can I get Sigmund Freudchester’s opinion on something?”

“I … yeah, sure. What?”

“What does it say to you that the djinn made things so that I’d still been held prisoner by Asmodeus?”

Horror passed over Sam’s face. “You were with him? In Hell?”

“No, no, yuck, not with him; it had still happened to me, though, and you were the good egg who kept wasting fuel on the little engine that couldn’t. What’s your take on that? What do you think?”

Sam’s face had gone pale. “I don’t know, Gabriel.”

“Really? Well, I think I do.” There was something manic in Gabriel now, something he couldn’t control. He was, perhaps, a little angry, a little frantic, although he could not have said why. “It just confirms for me that if I had the opportunity to unwrite this script, to change what happened to me, to make it so that I had never been his favorite toy - ”

“You wouldn’t.” Sam looked horrified, but did not sound surprised.

“Exactly,” Gabriel told him. “Because I wasn’t meant to be treated any differently. Getting out of Hell was just a maggot turning into a fly. No real upgrade. And if I didn’t have the courage to actually wish that I was back where I was supposed to be, then I at least had the common decency to take some of what I deserved.”

“Gabriel, please don’t - ”

“I only knew for sure it was just tripe when you came out and said you’d never faced Lucifer. No - wait - you called him ‘Jack’s dad.’ As if you’d signed the adoption papers, bada-bing, bada-boom, the kid’s ours. And Jack - he was so damn innocent, nary a shit to give, just some happy little kid who made it clear how hardcore he loved his uncle. Because Uncle Gabe had the power of freaking kangaroos on hand, and - ”

“Stop.” Sam held up a hand. He seemed to have recovered a little. “You know what the djinn does, don’t you? You’re supposed to - to think that its world is better. You’re supposed to not want to get out.” He paused. “Um …”

“Go ahead,” Gabriel pressed. “You know how I got out.”

Sam looked at him. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

Unconsciously, Gabriel touched his stomach. The wound there was from where the monster had stolen blood. “Let’s just get this out of the way. I know you’re probably angry as Hell about it.”

That seemed to take Sam by surprise. “No! Well - I mean - if you still think about that sometimes; if you … if you can’t help …”

“It’s fine, Sam; I get it. Be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed. I … I mean … do you want me to be mad?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Sam; you do you.”

“Listen, I get that some days are better than others, and that sometimes you’re just not going to … you know …” Sam gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m just trying to say that I know you can’t control what goes through your head. It’s not your fault, that’s all. But I wish you could shake off this idea that you deserved what you got. And that you somehow have to - I don’t know - to make something up to us.”

“Sam,” Gabriel pleaded, “Jack got to hold a koala.”

Sam just laid a hand on his arm, waiting, perhaps, for Gabriel to say more.

“You have every right to be angry,” Gabriel said finally. “You know - you can be upset about the archangel blade. Because you do everything in your power to make me care about myself, and all I do is fight back.”

“Gabriel …” Sam kept his hand in place as he thought about how to respond. “I’m not mad. Really. I’m not. You used it to live. You could have been happy there, but you decided to come back. How could I be angry about that?”

Gabriel tensed. “Uh. I was more thinking along the lines of how easy it was to get to it. It was sitting there in a duffel bag, right where I could grab it in an emergency. You know, you never know when you might need to - to slice open a cantaloupe or …” He trailed off, then cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s the freedom of having the choice. You get that, right? Sort of?”

Sam nodded. “And you made a choice. Look at that.”

Gabriel shivered.

“You cold?” Sam asked.

“No,” Gabriel told him, “Just a wreck. Make a note in the spreadsheet for further evaluation later. This is proving to be an interesting experiment, wouldn’t you say?” He took a deep breath. “I can’t give you what you gave me, Sam. A home. Good memories. A feeling of safety. Somewhere to be afraid without getting hurt in the end. I can’t give that to you or Dean or Cas or Jack.”

“We don’t need those things from you.”

“You need them from someone, Sam, and I owe you at least that much.”

“You need to be - oh, hey - ” Sam withdrew his hand and used the blankets to help dry Gabriel’s face.

“Add it to the log,” Gabriel whispered. “I failed the experiment.”

“It’s okay to be upset. You know that. Crying is probably good for you.”

“You know what else is good for you? Bikram yoga. But it sucks and you look like a clown doing it.” Gabriel shuddered again. “You know - his hands, they felt like - they reminded me of - ”

“Whose hands? The djinn’s?”

“Yes.”

“What about them?”

“They felt like his. And I just - right then, when I felt him - ” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear trickle over his temple and into his ear. “Sorry - when I felt him, I thought of you. Not because it felt like how it feels when you’re with me, or when you touch me. Because it felt so different.”

“I could lie down with you, if you want.”

Gabriel didn’t answer, and kept his eyes closed. He felt Sam, who had learned to read Gabriel’s silence, recline next to him.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Sam asked.

Gabriel curled in on himself and cried.

He felt Sam pull him close. “You’re tired, Gabriel. You need some rest. Try and sleep, yeah?”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“Sleep,” Sam repeated.

It sounded so different coming from him.

19 notes · View notes

impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

New

SPN FanFic

~When Dean discovers something new about Y/N, it sets off a few alarms in the bunker...~

Dean x Reader, Sam, Jack

1,654 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Fluffy Smut. Bit of silliness at the end. Lots of cum. All the cum. Enjoy. ;)

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New relationships are hard. There's the cautious touches, the not knowing what the other person is thinking. Should I bring up that thing he did that annoyed me? Will she be pissed if I mention last Thursday? It can be a struggle.

New relationships can also be fun. So many things to discover about each other, every touch is a new adventure, every kiss is the beginning of a new chapter.

Dean and Y/N had only been actively sleeping together for two weeks and openly dating for one. They knew each other as friends, hunters, family; but the bedroom was all new.

Dean loved finding all the little spots that made her moan, the strips of skin that made her entire body flush with goose pimples when he touched them. His newest and most favorite discovery was, if you bit down on her left shoulder, she growled like a wolf. Full on werewolf, dark eyes and all. She even snarled at him one night.

For her part, Y/N had learned that the ever so cool Mr. Winchester had a soft spot for nipple play and even blowing a slow stream of air across them would make his eyes roll and his stomach tighten. He liked to have his hair played with; in fact, a thirty second scalp massage would make him hard as a rock. And if you nibbled gently on his right ear lobe, he would let out a rumbling moan that never failed to end with his hands down your pants.

Every night, Dean and Y/N spent time alone, lips tasting newly exposed patches of skin, fingers dancing along in creases and hollows that they had previously ignored. Each night was a new adventure and they were the happiest explorers on Earth.

Dean shivered and pushed a hand through his hair, messing it all up. “Jesus, you’re so good at this.”

Y/N slowly pulled up, his cock locked in the tight suction of her mouth. She loosened her lips and he fell away with a wet pop as she smiled. “What can I say?” she teased, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and pumping slowly. “Such a beautiful cock needs to be worshiped.” She smirked as his eyes rolled and she licked the tip of his dick, pointed tongue teasing his aching slit.

Dean trembled, his thighs shaking around her shoulders. “Fuck.”

Y/N merely hummed against him, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head before sucking him down again.

“You’re gonna kill me with that mouth, Baby,” he moaned. Dean watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth flooded with hot saliva. She was truly enjoying herself. He reached down and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, rubbed a hand down her neck and shoulders, wanting to touch her, taste her, fuck her tight holes. He bucked his hips and grunted as his cock was stopped by the back of her throat. Y/N gagged around him but swallowed, picking up the pace as he swelled in her mouth.

“Oh goddamn…” He clawed at her shoulders, blunt nails trying to find something to catch and tug, but they slipped over and over as she bobbed on his cock. “Fuck, Y/N/N...come here…”

She paused and sat back, a thick line of spit dangling between her lips and his throbbing erection. “Yes?” she asked coyly, still stroking him with a warm fist.

Dean was half gone with lust, green eyes cloudy and unfocused. “Come up here,” he said again, reaching for her. “I wanna taste that sweet pussy.”

Y/N smiled and felt the ache between her legs grow stronger. She gave his cock one final tug and then crawled up over him, settling her wet cunt on his soft belly. “Hey, baby,” she cooed, plucking his juicy bottom lip with her thumb.

Dean grabbed her tits and squeezed, watching in awe as she squirmed. “I said get up here,” he growled. “Ride my face.”

She shivered and wiggled her ass over him as a rush of anticipation lit her spine. “Fuck.”

He rolled her nipples between thick fingers and smiled. “Well?”

A deep breath later she was crawling higher, up over his chest, fitting her knees around his broad shoulders and finally hovering over his face. She gripped the wall to steady herself, preparing to slowly lower her pussy, but Dean couldn’t wait and reached up and around to pull her down by the thighs.

She shuddered as his mouth closed over her clit. “Dean! Shit!”

He held her down, smothering himself with her slick cunt until his lungs began to burn.

“Fuck, you taste so good!” he gasped, pulling in a deep breath as she regained control and held herself aloft. “I want more.”

Y/N braced herself against the headboard and began to move, sliding her pussy over his face, lingering wherever the sensation was most enjoyable. Dean hummed as he feasted, wide tongue pushing deep inside, nose bumping her clit, fingers digging into her ass.

“Oh my god, Dean, you’re gonna make me cum…” She rolled her hips over him, lightly brushing her clit against his nose, but Dean pushed himself upwards, locking his lips around that sweet bud and jamming two fingers in deep. Her voice grew higher and tighter, little clipped squeaks and heavy moans until the coil popped and she came, letting loose a hot stream down into Dean’s mouth. He moaned and drank it down, excited by the new discovery, and kept his fingers pumping into her even as Y/N tried to squirm away.

“No, Dean, fuck! Oh my god!” She struggled but he kept her trapped with the blissful pounding of his fingers and the relentless flick of his hot tongue. “God!”

She came again, just as strong, squirting all over his face.

Dean kissed her clit and felt her cunt pulse on his hand. “This is awesome,” he grinned, lifting his other hand to massage her lips and thighs as he slowed his thrusting wrist. “I didn’t know you could do this.”

Y/N fell forward, hands catching beside his head on the mattress. She shimmied down a bit to see his soaked face and cringed. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. That’s so gross.”

Dean shook his head and licked her shine from his lips. “No,” he assured her, dreamy gaze in his eyes. “This is awesome.”

She tried to scoot down to sit on his belly again, but Dean wouldn’t let her go. She dropped down on his chest, the pressure building again as his fingers wiggled inside her. “Oh god…”

“You gonna go again?” he grinned. “Yeah, you are.”

Y/N sat up as best she could, rolling pleasure making it impossible to stay still as Dean rubbed her clit with the hard pad of his thumb. She bit her lip as the moment loomed and Dean watched in utter awe as she broke, flooding his chest with another delicious orgasm.

“Fuck, this is so hot!”

He kept rubbing and Y/N’s eyes rolled.

“Please!”

“What do you need, Y/N?” he whispered sweetly while his fingers roughly fucked her sloppy cunt.

“Need…I need…” She fell down again, nearly crushing his face with her tits, and growled. “I need to cum on your cock.”

Dean’s eyes lit up and he grabbed her around the waist, flipping over with Y/N in his arms. “You got it, babe.”

He slid inside without a hint of resistance. Her pussy was soaked and so was he, sliding through her flesh with a husky grunt and dropping a kiss on her lips.

Dean thrusts were hard and steady and Y/N screamed as she came again, fluid squirting from her as Dean buried his cock. She bit her lip but it did no good and another scream pushed out as Dean’s balls slapped at her ass.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warned, hips crashing into her body again and again.

“Do it,” she growled, reaching down to grab his ass, pulling him in closer. “Please, Dean.”

He grabbed her ankle and threw it up over his shoulder, opening her wide as he pistoned against her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Dean pulled out at the last second and shot his load all over her stomach. She screamed long and loud as she came one last time, pushed over by the heat of his cum dribbling down her sides and into her navel.

“Dean!” Sam’s fists beat against the door.

“Y/N! Are you OK?” Jack’s young voice worried in the hall. “What’s going on?”

The door opened with a creak and Dean popped his head through the gap. “Evening, fellas.” He was covered in sweat and wet, drenched head to toe, with a thin sheet wrapped around his hips.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, reading the situation easily. Jack, however, did not.

“Dean, is everything alright?” he asked, big eyes wide with innocence. “We heard Y/N screaming.”

Dean licked his lips and grinned. “Yeah. She’s fantastic.” He pushed through the door and into the hall, trying to block the view back to the bed. “I’m uh… gonna go take a quick shower, if you’ll excuse me.”

Jack cocked his head and looked at Dean’s damp hair and body. “But you’re already wet.”

Sam hid his laugh but Dean didn’t bother. His voice echoed through the hall as he chuckled at Jack’s confusion. “Ya know what? You take this one, Sam.” He jumped slightly as Y/N tossed a ruined blanket at the door. Dean turned and scooped it up, carefully shutting the door behind him as he pushed past Jack. “Looks like I have some laundry to do as well…”

Jack watched as Dean marched proudly down the hall and then turned to Sam. “What just happened?”

Sam scratched at his night time beard and shook his head. “I’ll… explain it when you’re older…”

2019 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @arses21434 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @because-imma-lady-assface @burningcoffeetimetravel @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis @cosmicfire72 @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansenwackles @deansgirl215 @deanmonandnegansbitch @dolphincliffs @dubuforeveralone @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @eternal-elir @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @gayspacenerd @hella-aj-the-trickers-son @herbologystudent252 @hobby27 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @lastactiontricia @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mysticmaxie @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @peridot-rose @pisces-cutie @risingphoenix761 @roonyxx @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @shadowkat-83 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnficgirl @supernaturaldean67 @supernatural-took-me-over @thehardcoveraddict @tmiships4life @wegoddessofhell @winchesterprincessbride

#spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #smut #one shot

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years

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Breathe In, Breathe Out (Whumptober 2020)

Why do I always get these prompts the day I come down with a cold?

Summary: A fight with a poltergeist nearly drowns a member of Team Free Will.

* * *

“Where's Cas?” Dean demanded as soon as Sam ducked behind the same counter where the older Winchester had taken shelter.

“Pool house,” Sam replied, jerking his head toward the back door of the old manor's hall. Ever since Castiel had become human, Dean had been treating him like he was somehow more fragile than the rest of them. Cas had always been able to take care of himself, with or without his powers. Sam was getting tired of it, he knew Cas was getting tired of it—even Jack had clued in that Dean was going a little overboard.

Dean was shaking his head as he reloaded the spare magazines for his shotgun. “Any luck finding the bones yet?”

“Nothing.” Sam blew out a sigh and let his head rest against the counter. Dean snapped his fingers urgently and Sam passed over his own empty magazine. “I mean, maybe you had a point earlier.”

“'Course I did,” Dean retorted. “I'm a friggin' genius.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “When you said she'd remodeled this place so much it was practically a part of her. I think the house counts as her remains.”

“Yeah?” Dean flipped the refilled magazine back to Sam. “What about it?”

“I think we need to torch the place.” The old manor was on the historic register, so he hated to do it...but kids kept exploring the old place and getting hurt, or even killed. They'd spent days going through every room, every item, and found nothing to point them to the remains of Emma Chandler, who had died nearly forty years ago. The house had been handed down to members of her family, who had used it as a vacation home until the poltergeist activity had gotten too dangerous and they'd abandoned it.

She wasn't too happy with them by now, and they'd been dodging poltergeist activity left and right. The house was too big for a purifying ritual, unless they could trap her spirit in one spot, and she'd been incredibly hard to pin down. They laid salt lines and she tossed furniture across them, burned sage and she kicked up a wind to blow it out. The only thing that stopped her for a moment were salt rounds, and even then the magazines for their shotguns only held five rounds at a time.

“Guess we need the flame thrower,” Dean quipped.

Sam had opened his mouth to answer (they could set a fire that would be deemed accidental and not have the police looking for them for once), when an ear-splitting scream rent the air around them. It was usually the sign that Emma had materialized nearby, but to Sam's horror the sound was coming from the beyond the back of the hall.

“Pool house,” he gasped, surging to his feet to sprint out the back door. The yard was overgrown with weeds and vines, but with Emma's focus in the pool house there wasn't anything to trip them up on the way. He heard a shotgun blast, a screech of fury, and something large and dark flew across one of the windows to crash against the wall inside.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, somehow moving even faster than Sam. He reached the door first and simply lowered his shoulders and charged through. Thank goodness there had been too much iron in the door for Emma to lock them out.

Cas was on the far side of the pool. The water was murky but still smelled strongly of chlorine, from the owner's failed attempts to “shock” the water a few months before, and the smell permeated the air of the pool house until it was almost unbreathable. The former angel struggled to his feet, shotgun held out before him, but Emma materialized just beside him to knock the shotgun out of his hand.

“No!” Dean yelled, bringing his own gun up to bear on her flickering form. She gave a screech and vanished, then Cas's body pitched forward as though dragged by invisible hands and plunged into the pool.

Dean swore and began sprinting around the edge of the pool to get to the side nearest Cas, while Sam tried to cover him with his shotgun. Emma could be anywhere, visible or not, and she was most dangerous when she could get between them.

“Cas!” Dean was leaning over the side of the pool, hand outstretched. “C'mon, I've got you.” Cas reached for him, floundering a little in his waterlogged clothes and shoes, but before Deana could grab his hand he disappeared under the surface of the water with a sharp cry.

While Dean searched for anything he could use to pull Castiel out, Sam aimed down at the water and fired two blasts into it. The impact from the salt rounds wouldn't be enough to hurt Cas, especially under water, but might be enough to disrupt Emma's spirit.

Sure enough, Cas rose to the surface, coughing and flailing. He reached for Dean again, but somehow Emma re-materialized enough to pull him back under.

“Okay. Fine!” Dean scrambled up to his knees and flipped his backpack off his shoulders. He still had almost a third of a bag of salt in there from when they'd been trying to isolate her in the house, and he unceremoniously dumped that into the pool.

Emma gave another wail and the surface of the water churned. This time when Cas surfaced, Dean managed to snag him by the sleeve and drag him bodily out of the pool. “Sammy!”

Sam was already running around the pool to join them. He dropped into a crouch, shotgun held at the ready, eyes scanning for any sign of Emma's reappearance. “We've gotta get out of here,” he commented.

“No shit,” Dean growled. “Cas, can you stand?”

The former angel was coughing and spluttering, like he'd gotten a lungful of the filthy water, but he shook his head and held his clenched fist out to Dean. “Wait,” he croaked. “I found...” he trailed off in a fit of coughing that had Sam wincing. Yeah, drowning was a lot nastier without a resident angel.

Dean let out a low whistle. Sam glanced down and saw that Cas was holding out an old-fashioned bracelet, the kind that looked like a twisted chain with a single clasp, which had a few strands of gray hair caught in it.

“Worth a shot,” Sam said when Dean looked up at him. He tightened the grip on his shotgun while Dean dug lighter fluid out of his backpack and Cas curled up with a moan on the ground behind him.

Emma appeared across the pool, screeching and snarling, and Sam took a potshot at her even though he knew she was too far away for the shot to be effective. She raised her hands into claws and charged, letting out another scream of rage, but dissipating into smoke halfway across the filthy water.

Dean rocked back on his heels, eyeing the little smoldering pile of melted metal. “Good job, Cas.”

Cas threw up.

* * *

“Pneumonia?”

Dr. Richards barely looked up from the chart as he nodded. “You said your friend fell in the pool at the house you were renting?”

Dean nodded. They'd really been too worried to concoct a story, once Cas had started complaining about his chest hurting. He couldn't stop coughing, not even long enough to take in a deep breath, and they'd hauled him to the ER despite his assurances that he could walk it off.

Who knew the angel would inherit the Winchester Stubbornness?

“It was a pretty dirty pool,” Sam said. “We weren't going to swim in it.”

The doctor nodded again. “That part doesn't really matter,” he explained, tucking the chart under his arm. “What we're looking for is the cause. If it happened in a pool, we could be looking at chemical irritation, like pneumonitis. We'll add a broad-spectrum antibiotic just in case, if the pool was in as bad disrepair as you say there could be anything swimming around in it.”

The nurse came out of Cas's room as the doctor finished. Sam thanked the doctor and followed his brother into the room, where Cas had finally been settled after a round of tests to determine the harm his dunking had caused.

Cas looked pale against the white sheets of the hospital, though there was a flush high in his cheeks from his fever. He was connected to a couple of monitors for his pulse and blood pressure, and the room was filled with the regular hiss of air from the oxygen mask strapped to Cas's face.

Dean made a dismayed sound but Sam laid a hand on his arm. “He's not ventilated,” he reminded his brother. “Just a precaution, right?”

The older Winchester managed to nod and pulled away, resting both hands on the railing at the side of Cas's bed. “We shouldn't have brought him,” he said over his shoulder. The words sounded callous, but Sam recognized the pain and vulnerability in his brother's voice. Whenever one of them got hurt, Dean took the blame for it on his own shoulders. It didn't matter that it could have been anyone in that pool house, just the fact that it happened was enough to fill Dean's heart with guilt.

“He found the bracelet,” Sam reminded him. “We would have had to burn the whole house down if it wasn't for him.”

“And he almost died,” Dean retorted. “Should've torched the place yesterday.”

Sam blew out a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded across his chest. There was silence in the room, nothing but the hiss-hiss, hiss-hiss of the respirator for a few long minutes. “The doctor said he's going to be all right,” he finally said, leaning over to catch Dean's eyes. “We caught it in time, we got him here.”

Dean finally seemed to un-clench a little. “Still wish we could lock him up at home,” he muttered out through clenched teeth.

That made Sam smile. Dean always reacted like this when one of them got hurt, then he'd be the first one to pull them back out into the hunt. It was just how he showed he cared.

“Hey,” Dean slapped him on the arm. “He's waking up.”

Sam twisted so he could see Cas's face. Between the near drowning, the pneumonia, and the drugs the hospital was pumping into his system Cas had been in and out pretty much since he'd been checked in. Sam leaned up to take his hand—Cas's hands were always so cold when he was hurt, Sam had to wonder if Jimmy had had any circulation problems.

Dean was practically hovering, one rough hand on Cas's shoulder. “Cas?”

The former angel reacted to Dean's voice, turning his way and slowly opening his eyes. Sam couldn't quite make out Cas's mumbled question, but Dean huffed out a laugh.

“Still hospital. You tried to inhale half the pool, remember?”

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes, head falling back onto his pillow. Dean patted his shoulder, then spent a few seconds fussing around with the blankets to make sure Cas was tucked in as comfortably as possible. Sam dragged a chair over next to the bed, then stretched his long legs out to rest his feet next to Cas's. “Want me to put something on?” he asked softly, reaching for the remote.

Cas gave a slight shrug, so Sam flicked around on the channels until he found an old black-and-white movie playing. Cas was already dozing off, and despite his incessant mother-henning it was starting to look like Dean wouldn't be too far behind.

The job was done, and they were all (for the most part) in one peace.

All in all, they'd definitely had worse days.

#whumptober2020 #no. 13 #breathe in breathe out #chemical pneumonia #oxygen mask #supernatural #fic #fanfic #castiel whump #team free will #drowning #fluff

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

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Mother dragon (14); Winchester brothers x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay here we go guys, probably the longest chapter I’ve written for this story but for good reason because now we get to a battle sequence :) Hope you all enjoy this fic and I hope you all listen to the soundtrack that I’ll provide for you all to listen to in order to set the mood for the scene.

I also want everyone to get their tissues and handkerchiefs out because this one is EMOTIONAL! I kid you not when I started writing this part months ago, I was BAWLING. But I hope you all enjoy this part :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@platawnic

@deanscroissant

@izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash

_____________________________________________________________

*3rd Person POV*

Back at the dragon sanctuary it was late afternoon in the shores of England. Warren was patrolling the terrain when he caught sight of his alpha. Deacon was laying there in his dragon form solemn and heartbroken. He knew what he had done was for the best, but he still couldn’t help but remember the hurt and betrayal in his mother’s eyes.

Before Warren could walk towards his alpha to confront him, a flare suddenly shot up in the sky.

The dragons all looked up in alarm, not even smelling who it was that had fired the flare. Warren and Deacon shielded their eyes before they turned around to see their worst fears.

Dragon hunters standing along the main entrance of their home.

They all cried out as they charged down with their weapons and traps. The dragons all backed up in fear not wanting to start any fight. However as their Alpha; Deacon revealed his wings and charged head on but he didn’t realize that a couple of dragon trappers were ready for him, they fired out an iron forged chained netting, trapping his wings as it sent him down to the ground.

The dragons all tried to fly away but acid spitters blocked their paths and proceeded to fire their toxic acid which forced the dragons to flee the opposite direction.

Meanwhile a few miles away after driving out of a portal, a black Chevy impala going at a very fast speed. And on top of the car, was a young woman in a dragon-like suit.

One by one, group by group each dragon was sealed in special dragon-proof traps and cages. Stephen who tried to rally up the young dragonlings was soon caught by several trappers using iron forged chains. Apophis who was trying to protect his pregnant mate Kisara fired fireball after fireball at any poacher that came near them.

But it all proved in vain when a chained whip came around Apophis’ neck forcefully separating him from his mate. They chained up Kisara as well, the two trying to reach out for each other calling each other’s names as they were forcefully put into separate cages.

After failing to free his Alpha, Deacon ordered Warren to just get as many of their people that were still free out of here. But Warren, forcefully trained to be the fighter that he was raised to be, refused.

He revealed his wings and roared out as he charged at one of the trappers. He allowed his hands to ignite which burned the trapper. He managed to kill using his own claws and even his own wings sending them over the cliff down into a watery grave.

Suddenly four iron-steal pikes slammed down around Warren and suddenly he screamed in familiar agony as he was being sent over 20,000 volts of power coursing through his veins. Not enough to kill, but enough to bring him down on his stomach in submission. He growled in the dirt as coming out from the bushes was none other than Percy.

“Now wasn’t it you that once said never trust a human?” Warren growled lowly at Percy while glaring daggers at him. Percy walked towards him and said to some of the trappers that were there surrounding the blonde haired dragon. “I think this one could do with his wings clipped.” He then took out his knife and flipped a switch which sent out the electrical shock through Warren once more.

He cried out in pain as his wings were forced to expand and Percy grabbed tight only his right one.

“Don’t worry dear boy, by the time it’s over you won’t even feel a thing.” For once finally knowing fear, Warren buried himself in the dirt, unable to fight back as he was forced to watch and feel his own wings be clipped straight off his back.

But just before he could, something began to echo through the entrance of the cave. It sounded like some kind of purring sound until finally coming to park right by the main entrance was the black impala. And coming out of it, were the Winchester brothers as well as Castiel. All three armed and ready to fight.

“Hey ol Percy! We’re gonna give you fair warning. Let all these dragons go and then get your ass out of town and we won’t humiliate you in front of your little minions here, fair deal!” Dean cried out.

“You Americans should’ve stayed out of it while you had the chance.” Percy muttered. He walked away from Warren and said as he walked towards the brothers and the angel. “Gentlemen, clearly you don’t understand how my business works. See anyone who gets in my way, faces my wrath. And if I don’t get what I want, people pay dearly.”

“Yeah well fact is you shouldn’t be scared of us.” Sam said. At this point Percy was confused.

“My brothers right pal. It’s her you need to be scared shitless about. And man you lot should’ve worn your brown pants before you left the house.” And it was then their secret weapon came out.

*My POV*

I soon flew out my wings at full spread as I locked eyes with Percy and flew full force toward him before double kicking him in the chest pushing him away from Warren, and sending him towards a tree which had created a dent in the bark.

Before taking off flying high in the air again circling the poachers and trappers like an Alpha mother protecting her litter of dragonlings.

As I landed back down on the ground, a big trapper came running towards me. Revealing my retractable iron dragon claws I leapt at him. We went back and forth between punches and I occasionally went for scratches, really scarring him up till I managed to stab him right in the heart growling animalistically.

He gasped out as I lifted his 6’0ft, 300lbs. man like a trash bag and just tossed him aside towards a boulder hearing his spine snap.

More trappers charged at me but I turned up the big guns; I leaped up into the air spinning around upside down before managing to land on one of the hunter’s shoulders and just like Natasha Romanoff, I used my body momentum to bring him down to his feet before bringing out my secret weapon.

Special dagger-like spikes that fired much like a porcupine’s quills filled with paralyzing venom. As each of the spikes hit the bastards, they dropped to the ground like flies.

I felt someone try to stab me from behind but thanks to the special pattern all thanks to Deacon’s shedded dragon scales, it made this armor as tough as real dragon skin.

I turned and stabbed the guy right through the head before slicing his neck open which immediately dropped him to the ground. Leaping again; I now stood protectively in front of Warren’s cage, my wings popping out and my claws retracted dripping with blood as I let out a primal, animalistic roar.

Literally daring anyone to come closer to him and take another thing of his.

Cutting off the power and pushing each pike down, I freed Warren of his prison before looking down at him. I held my hand out to him.

“On your feet soldier.” I ordered him. He nodded and he took my hand and I helped him up. I removed my helmet panting heavily. He looked shocked to see that it was me. But his shock quickly faded as he told me.

“Deacon’s trapped over there. I hope no one’s gotten to him yet.”

“If they have, they’ll have to deal with me. Get as many dragons free as you can. Rally them up and get the children and pregnant females away from the battlefield, anyone else who can fight, get them to do so.” He nodded and we took off our separate ways.

I raced over toward Deacy and took out my knife and unlocked his wings free from his bonds. He flapped them out and turned towards me and he said.

“You came back. Why?”

“A Mother’s promise.” He grinned before his eyes widened for a split second before he let out a protective roar and his tail came out and I quickly ducked as he whipped a trapper away from me. I got back onto my feet and said to him, “Let’s finish the job, my Rhaegal.”

He phased into his full dragon form and I got on top of his back as he let out a fearsome and powerful roar before taking off into the sky as a signal for the other dragons who were free that they had to fight.

*3rd Person POV*

One by one each dragon was freed from their cages and just as ordered, the young ones and any pregnant female were taken to the hidden entrances of the caves nearby and ordered to not come out till it was safe.

Sam, Dean and Cas helped out by taking down any trapper or dragon poacher they could find. As Percy was seeing his plan falling apart, he felt pure rage in his veins. He turned towards two trappers and called out to them.

“You there! Take whatever you can back to the boat!” The two trappers obeyed their boss and took the cage which held Kisara inside out of the den towards the boats they had docked at the bottom of the island.

Kisara cried out for help hoping that either her mate or anyone for that matter would help her, while Percy dug into his pocket and found his special serum as he muttered to himself.

“I’ve got a dragon to ensnare.”

As Sam took down one of the trappers, he soon took notice of two trappers heading out with a pregnant Kisara. Thinking fast, he quickly raced on up a cliff’s side over the trappers then once he was on top of one of them.

Thinking like how (y/n) would, he let out a yell and tackled one of the trappers down to the ground which caused the cage to tip over.

Sam groaned out in pain as he stood up and said to himself.

“God how she’s does it, I’ll never know.” He suddenly felt a gun at the back of his head and he heard a female trapper speak out.

“You shouldn’t have interfered with our line of work Winchester.” Sam held his hands in the air and he saw for a quick split second a camouflaged serpent body move through the brush.

“Yeah, and you shouldn’t have come between a pregnant dragon and her mate.” Then like a bullet, Apophis shot out in her serpent dragon form. Sam quickly got out of the way and the female trapper tried to run but it was all in vain.

He wrapped his snake-like body around the female trapper and lifted her high in the air about half his own body length. Apophis stared her down and spoke not a word, just took pleasure in hearing her bones crack under his scales.

Apophis continued to squeeze until the female trapper stopped breathing before dropping her down to the ground and phasing back to his human form.

He saw Sam right at his mate’s cage trying to get it open but the iron bars were too tough and the locks just wouldn’t come off. Apophis walked towards him and said,

“Stand back.” Sam stood aside as Apophis touched the bars and heated up his hand till it melted them, allowing him to use his strength to break it open freeing his mate. The two men helped Kisara out of her cage and she nuzzled and embraced her mate and he held onto her tightly kissing the side of her head. “Thank you.” Apophis said to Sam.

He smiled softly and nodded telling him that he was welcome. Kisara turned towards Sam and told him.

“You saved my life; I am forever in your debt Sam Winchester.” She hugged him and Sam hugged her back and said.

“If it were me, you would’ve done the same thing.”

*My POV*

The battle seemed to be in our favor. Most of the hunters and trappers were either dead or long retreated. Deacon and I now fought on the ground back to back; him using his tail like a whip to drag hunters near him before delivering a powerful kick or flamed touched to their skin burning them alive while I used either my daggers or shot out my special paralyzing spikes.

Fighting together as mother and son once again.

“Hey Alpha!” I heard Percy cry out. Deacon and I looked up to see him riding on top of Warren in his dragon form. “Can’t kill me without killing your right hand man!” He then forced Warren to take him away and they flew off deep within the mountains.

“Warren!” I heard Deacon cry out. He raced after him but I took hold of his arm and I told him.

“Hang on.”

“Mum he’s my friend. I can’t let him be controlled by hunters again! I promised him I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him again.”

“I know, but you can’t go after Percy. Not on your own.” I revealed my hidden knife from my sleeve and grinned at him. “Let’s go get your dragon brother back.” He nodded determinedly before phasing into his dragon form.

He lowered his head and I mounted on top of his neck and got right at the junction of where his long neck and back met. He took off flying and I cried out to the Winchester boys as well as Cas.

“Sam! Dean! Cas!” They looked up and I told them, “Find Stephen and Apophis and meet us at the north side of the island. We’ve got to cut Percy off before he takes Warren away!”

“Got it!” Sam cried out then I told Deacon,

“Okay Deacy darling, show me how fast you can really fly.” Even in his large size, Deacon moved with swift and agility as we soon came behind Warren and Percy.

*3rd Person POV*

“You’re mine now you big brute. Then once I fully have you under my control you’ll kill your alpha and have all the dragons obey you before I have you slaughter all of them. Soon there will be no more dragons and I will go down in history as the world’s greatest dragon hunter.” Percy said to a mindless Warren who was under the control of the serum that was coursing through his veins due to the muzzle around his face.

When Percy turned around he saw Deacon and (y/n) flying behind him.

“Impenitent spawns. Lose them you dog!” Warren then began to fly and use his own larger more muscular body to knock down some of the mountain. But thanks to Deacy’s swift reflexes he was able to keep his mom and himself safe from the incoming rubble falling down from above.

Deacon kept close behind Warren but it wasn’t until he was suddenly tackled by some of Percy’s own dragons. Deacon roared and tried to bite it’s head off but suddenly another one wrapped around Deacon’s neck choking him and bringing him down.

Three more dragons soon piled on top of Deacon and with all this weight they were now nosediving head first towards the sea.

“Deacon c’mon fight back! I know you’ve got it in you Deacon honey. C’mon!” (Y/n) cried as she tried to use her knife to fight off one of the dragon’s poison barbed tail. Hearing his mum’s voice and hearing her strain in the fight something snapped inside of him.

His whole body began to spark with electricity and the dragons that were piled up on him began to sense that something big was about to happen.

“Uhh what are you doing?!” Deacon then let out the loudest, most fearsome roar as lightning suddenly shot down from the heavens and a clash of thunder rumbled the sky and like flicking on a light switch, Deacon suddenly disappeared and Percy’s dragons were burned to a crisp as they fell down into the sea.

Sam, Dean and Cas who were now riding on top of Stephen and Apophis witnesses this amazement first hand and Dean said.

“Whoa, what the hell just happened?”

‘That’s Deacon’s true power. His bloodline allows him to control thunder and lightning to his will.’ Stephen said to Dean thanks to his telepathic ability.

“Great so he’s Thor but in dragon form. But where did he go? And where’s (y/n)?”

‘Wait for it.’

Percy who had turned to see his dragons burned to a crisp and fall to the sea was unaware that just a few feet in front of him, Deacon reappeared out of thin air.

Play Video

But by the time he turned around it was too late, (y/n) using her special designed dragon wings flew across the air ready to tackle Percy. He meanwhile grabbed his gun filled with his paralyzing serum that he had obtained from his dragon’s fired one shot but (y/n) dodged it and tackled Percy but she then heard a pained roar pierce the air.

Falling hundreds of feet down to the sea was Deacon who had been hit by the serum and was now free falling unconsciously.

*My POV*

I roared as I came at Percy and just as he was about to shot me with his serum, I dodged the bullet and tackled him off of Warren but managed to grip onto his neck while I felt Percy grip onto my ankle. I then heard the pained sound of a dragon’s roar and I was horrified to see my Deacy now falling hundreds of feet to his doom.

I struggled to kick Percy off of me so that I could get onto Warren’s back to save my son but Percy kept a strong grip and tried to reason with me.

“You’ll kill us both! Trading your life for a dragon’s? That’s your plan? Are you willing to die for such a greedy beast?!”

As I continued to watch Deacon fall to his death, I knew there was only one thing I could do. I swung my free arm up and tried to unbuckle Warren’s muzzle.

“No. What are you doing you selfish girl!?” Finally I managed to get all the buckles undone. I tossed the muzzle aside and I saw Warren’s eyes go from that piercing soulless reptile like to his pupils dilating again and he turned to face me.

I looked deep into his eyes and said two words to him.

“Save him.” And then I let go.

Warren hovered in the air watching in shock as I fell what felt like thousands of feet to my death. He roared down toward me but he snapped out of it and flew towards Deacy. The last thing I saw was him catching Deacon, tackling him safely onto the cliff’s edge just ahead of me.

Thank God, my son was safe. That was what was important to me. Because that’s the sole duty of every mother; to make sure their children are safe. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate.

I could feel Percy ripping away my wings before coming on top of me and I felt his hands wrap around my throat choking the life out of me. He wanted to be sure that I would be the first to die before he did by using me as his human shield against death. My eyes were forced opened as I could see the piercing blue eyes of his glare down at me with pure hatred.

But then I saw something else. Breaking through the clouds I saw giant wings and I could see a flash of blonde hair diving head first right for me.

Percy’s grip suddenly loosened as I felt a sudden blast of heat hit my face. Just as his body fell off of mine and hit the water, I felt two arms underneath my legs and back respectively and felt myself being carried back up.

As my vision became clear again, I saw that it was Warren. He looked down at me with a soft smile for once and I croaked out.

“I knew you’d come around big guy.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as he continued to fly up to the cliffside where my son was at. Once we reached the top, Warren gently set me down on the soft grass before landing just a couple inches away from me.

“(Y/n)!” I heard a choir of voice call out my name. I looked up to see all of Deacy’s clan but riding on top of Stephen and Apophis were Sam, Dean and Cas. The two dragons landed and Sam hopped off of Stephen while Cas and Dean got off of Apophis. They raced towards me and brought me in the middle of their group hug.

I looked around to see that we had done it.

We actually did it.

All the dragons were free and Percy the famed dragon hunter was finally gone. The last of the dragon hunter bloodline had finally been defeated and the dragons’ were all finally free.

It was then I turned towards Deacy who was now back in human form finally waking up from the serum. I walked up towards him and cooed out as I stroked his hair out of his face.

“Hey, my little Deacy,” he smiled sleepily at me while I placed his head in my lap and stroked through his hair cooing out, “you’re just full of surprises, aren’t yah?” It was then Warren, Apophis and Stephen now all in human form walked up towards their alpha with concern. I looked up to them and said. “Your alpha’s going to be just fine.”

Stephen and Apophis worked together and helped Deacy on his feet and the four dragons huddled together in their own little group hug. I stepped back allowing them to reunite with each other, the three subordinates reunited with their brother alpha.

Sam, Dean and Cas came up to me and I felt Sam’s hand at my shoulder and I placed my hand on top of his as we all observed the sweet brotherly reunion.

“You know, you did good kid.” Said Dean. I turned to him and he continued, “I may not have been easy going the first time around but—Deacon’s a good man, and a good leader. And he’s lucky to have friends who care about him so much.” I nodded.

I then saw Deacon look out to the sea, beyond the horizon towards the sunset before turning toward me. My heart grew heavy and I heard Cas say.

“(Y/n).” I turned towards the angel and I knew he was right. He was right all along.

“Your right Cas, it’s time.” I walked away from the guys and stood before Deacon. He came up towards me and I placed my hand right over his strong chest, right over his heart. His eyes looked deeply into mine as I sighed deeply and said to him.

“Deacon; I always hoped that this day would come. The day I would finally find you and that we’d be a family again. Staying together forever. But I was so focused on getting back what I had lost, that I never once thought about what you had gained.” We both turned towards his best friends who looked at us with soft smiles. We turned back towards each other and I continued, “You’ve proven to me that you can look after yourself, time to finally take care of your real family now. You need to lead your people away from here. Far from any civilization, far beyond where even the angels can’t even find you. And trust me; I’ll send the best one I know to make sure he can’t.” Deacon sadly chuckled and he said.

“I know mum but—what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. After all, these dragons need their Alpha, they need you Deacon.”

Tears built up in my eyes but I tried to not cry as I took back the necklace I once gave Deacon when he was still a child, freeing him of his bond to me.

“Go on Deacy, lead them home. You’ll be safe…..safer than you could ever be with me.” I said as I cupped his face in my hands.

“I love you mum.” He choked out as I saw his eyes turning red from the tears forming in his eyes.

“Ohh…..I love you too, but mother knows what’s best for her baby boy.” He nodded in understandment. I stepped a few feet away from him and continued, “Our world doesn’t deserve you, except in pop-culture references”. He looked at me sadly but his face told me he understood.

He suddenly wrapped me up in his strong arms and I buried my face into his chest. And I could hear the deep, sad rumbles in his chest as he squeezed me tighter.

All the while I could hear Dean suddenly crying in the background.

Deacon and I held onto each other for a few more seconds squeezing and nuzzling each other before finally loosening our grip.

“Go Deacon. Spread your wings and fly away.” I whispered as I cupped his cheek one last time before slowly removing my hand away and backing away from him before finally turning my back on him.

I walked towards Cas and he wrapped his arms around me because I knew I would stop myself and take back what I had just said if he wasn’t my anchor at the moment.

*3rd Person POV*

Deacon looked to the angel hugging his mother and Cas nodded assuring him to go. Deacy then turned toward his people and let out a powerful roar as his wings unfolded and extended outward. The dragons roared back and prepared for takeoff.

Warren, Apophis and Stephen extended their wings and as they took off they phased into their dragon forms. Soon all the dragons turned into their true forms and took off following after the Beta, advisor, and teacher of their nest.

The Winchesters stare in pure awe and teary-eyed at probably the most beautiful sight they had ever seen. An entire clan with over hundreds of dragons flying all at once off into the sunset.

Deacon who stayed on the ground now in full dragon form turned back towards the 3 hunters and the angel.

(Y/n) turned back around to look at her son one last time and even with tears running down her face, she still wore a proud smile as she nodded to Deacon one last time. He then turned around and took off flying following after his clan to lead them to a safer home.

Somewhere where no one, not even his own mother would dare to even find.

As the four of them stood together Sam asked.

“You think he’ll get them there?”

“Deacon was raised by a good mother. He’ll know where to take them.” Answered Castiel. The three of them looked down at (y/n) who walked further until she was by the edge of the cliff and she watched with a heavy but proud heart at seeing her little boy lead his people on.

They all stayed there until the dragons disappeared beyond the horizon.

*My POV*

As night fell, I stayed by the cliff’s edge sitting down thinking about my son. He had come such a long way from the day I first found him quivering and watching as the poachers were gathered around his dead mother.

He had grown up, became the Alpha dragon of his own nest, and did it all on his own without my help.

“You okay kiddo?” I heard Dean’s voice say. I soon felt each Winchester sit on either side of me by the cliff’s edge and I said.

“If this is what it’s like to be a parent, I’d hate to imagine what it’d be like if this was my actual birth son.”

“You did the right thing (y/n).” Sam said.

“I know, I know. But—it still hurts.” I then turned to Dean and said to him, “Sorry this is becoming too much of a chic-flick moment for you.”

“Hey, you get a pass because you’re a mom. And mom’s always get a free pass to have moments like this.” Dean answered as he wrapped an arm around me and brought me close to him. I buried my face into his chest and allowed myself to feel the heartbreak even more, even when I had no more tears to shed.

*3rd Person POV*

Seven months later; Deacon had led his people to a peaceful little island off the coast of Wales. An uninhabited island where he and his people could finally settle.

Deacon stood guard over a tall mountain looking over the entire island as well as out to the sea. As he stood guard he was suddenly tackled by five young dragonlings.

He laughed softly as the five youngsters all tackled him and playfully roughhoused with the Alpha dragon when he heard a male voice say.

“Thinking about her again?” he turned to see Apophis standing behind him. Deacon smiled sadly as Apophis soon said, “Alright kids enough, stop messing with your uncle now.”

“Aww but papa.” One of them whined.

“No buts little missy” he teased as he nuzzled her forehead before playfully but gently headbutting her making her roll onto her back giggling.

“Yeah. I dream about her every night. You know hunters are even lucky to live past their 40’s.”

“Well she’s still got a good 20 years left on her. It’s only been seven months Deacon. From what I had seen, and from the stories you told us. I believe she’s too stubborn and too badass to die that easily. She’ll be fine, and so will you.”

One of Apophis’ sons came up and sat on his uncle Deacon’s lap and Deacon held his nephew close and that’s when Apophis said.

“You know Kisara was able to talk to her friend earlier and she’s agreed to take that evening flight with you. I suggest you take it.” Deacon smiled softly and said.

“What was her name again?”

“Veronica. She’s nice.” Apophis answered his friend with a soft smile. The two of them then took watch together while the young dragonlings played with each other.

Play video at 1:45

~FF 12 years later My POV~

12 years had passed since that day. The day the dragons all left the world never to be seen again by any hunter or human. Castiel had searched far and wide but not even he could find a single trace of where Deacon had taken all the dragons.

Which is how it was meant to be.

A lot has also happened since that day. With their mother coming back, Lucifer’s kid, the alternate Apocalypse world with Michael, and then God coming to screw us over.

But like everything, we managed to stop it. But the last thing with God came at a price. Sam and Dean Winchester both gave their lives in one last battle and unfortunately they didn’t make it. Cas also died in the cross fire as well, leaving me the sole survivor along with Lucifer’s son, Jack.

After all that, Jack and I teamed up with Jody Mills and the Wayward sisters plus Jack and myself finished the work that the boys left behind for us to do.

But along with the bad stuff, there was also some light to the fact.

Just seven years ago Jack had actually confessed to me his feelings that he had been having toward me for awhile but with all that was going on, he felt like then wouldn’t be a good time. But now since there’s hardly any serious world-ending threat, he felt like it was time to confess his true feelings. And if I’m honest I felt the exact same way about him.

And I know it may seem impossible but we actually managed to have two children together. Yeah two. Our oldest daughter who was currently six years old Mary Winchester Kline and our son, Samuel Dean Winchester-Kline who was four.

Currently the four of us decided that it would be best to take a little vacation out of America, so we took an airline to Wales since it was famed for it’s dragon mythology and we even rented a boat to go to a small island nearby for a little private time just the four of us.

We saw the island just ahead of us but just as we reached the shores, I thought I saw something lying on top of one of the waterfalls that could be seen at the top of the island.

Something big.

I took the binoculars and gasped as I saw the large wings and the enormous size of the creature before me. In fact there were two of them, the other had golden scales and surrounding them were a litter of babies. It was then I knew instantly what these creatures were.

Dragons.

The large male stood up with its wings extended and it took off flying into the air right towards us. Right as the boat docked along the shore, the dragon landed before us.

His large stature terrified my children as they hid behind Jack and he stood in front of them to protect them. I carefully observed this dragon, almost feeling like I had seen him before.

He walked closer towards the boat growling and baring it’s dagger-like teeth letting out a deep rumble. Suddenly it hit me. I turned to see Jack ready to use his powers but I said to him.

“Jack wait!” His eyes changed back to the baby blues and he said as I got off the boat.

“(Y/n) what are you doing?!”

“Mommy come back!” Mary called out.

“It’s okay kids, just be quiet and stay close to your father.” I slowly walked forward a couple of steps before I stopped and allowed the dragon to fully stand before me. He lowered his head down at me, the deep rumbled growls still coming out as his piercing dragon gold eyes stared down at me. “Deacon?” I slowly raised my hand but he growled at me threateningly and I could hear my kids whimpering in fear. “Deacon it’s me.” I stated as I continued to extend my arm out and I turned away from him.

*3rd Person POV*

The air was tense. Jack held his son and daughter close to him assuring them not to look just in case anything bad happened. (Y/n)’s arm was fully extended and Deacon sniffed her a couple of times. His pupils went from dagger piercing to full-blown cat like as he roared happily and tackled his mum down to the ground making (y/n) cry out.

Having been told the story from Dean, Sam, Cas and (y/n) Jack let out a soft laugh at finally seeing the famous dragon alpha Deacon that (y/n) had raised.

Deacon changed into human form and hugged his mom tightly making her cry out. The two of them laughing and cheering as he spun her around, both on the beach and using his wings to lift her up off the ground.

“It’s okay. He’s not going to eat your mother. See? They’re friends.” Jack assured his children who were still hiding in fear behind their father.

*My POV*

Oh my god I can’t believe it! Deacon was here all this time! And boy had he grown up this time. He now had shorter hair, he looked older much more like an adult but he still had that child-like innocence about him.

“Oh Deacy my baby Deacy look at you!”

“Oh mum I’ve missed you soo much!”

“I’ve missed you my darling!” I laughed as he continued to spin me around. It was then he took notice of my children and his eyes grew curious. I smiled and gestured for them to come.

“Go on.” Jack told them. They were frozen with fear so I walked up to them and took them each my arms and assured them as they hid in my neck.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I set them down before Deacon who now was kneeling down so that he wouldn’t seem as intimidating. “You kids remember that fun dragon movie you both love to watch? I want you to hold your hands out just like they do, like this, okay?” I took Mary’s hand and held it outward her palm facing Deacon. I took Samuel’s hand and did the same thing as I continued, “That’s it. It’s okay.” I then scooted away and allowed them to come face to face with their older brother. Deacon stared down at him with eyes that only a parent could make, so I knew they would be in safe hands. “I’d like you both to meet your brother, Deacon. Deacon, this is Mary and Samuel-Dean.”

Deacon softly smiled and phased back into his dragon form which did scare my kids but not as much because a second later, Deacon pressed his muzzle against Mary’s and Samuel’s palms and purred lovingly, closing his eyes.

Accepting their touch.

Once feeling his muzzle, Mary’s face broke out a smile while Samuel was just awe-struck not believing that he was actually touching a real life dragon.

“Can we go flying mom?” asked Samuel.

“Please?” begged Mary. I turned to Deacon whose eyes shone with a gleam of mischief before looking down at my kids smirking softly.

Soon we were up in the clouds I was riding on Deacon with Mary sitting in front of me. Her hands moving in a wave-formation as she tried to touch the clouds. Soon coming on our left was Jack with Samuel riding on top of Deacon’s mate Veronica. While coming in the middle were their 13th litter of kids. I smiled as the two families reunited with each other and were now soaring above the clouds together. I stood up and Mary asked.

“Mommy what are you doing?”

“You’ll see baby.” I extended my arms out and fell off of Deacon’s back doing a bit of a free fall until I was caught midair.

By none other than Stephen.

His feet had caught hold of my arms and he looked down at me grinning and I grinned back up at him and he began to fly higher in the sky. Soon coming down below me was Kisara. Stephen let go of me and I immediately landed on Kisara’s back.

I touched her neck and she let out a purr before flying in the opposite direction to join up with her mate Apophis. Kisara placed her wing right up to Apophis’ side and I walked across it till I got onto his back. He then took off flying higher into the air, his snake like body creating a slide as I slid down his back.

Once I had reached his tail and did a full breach before forming a nosedive, out of the clouds roared Warren as I landed on his back. I grinned down at the dragon that was the most difficult to gain trust of but now here we are after the last battle.

He roared once again and caught up with Deacon and the two joined wings so that I could walk across and rejoin my two boys. I sat behind Mary and she was in pure awe.

“Wow mommy that was amazing! How did you do that?”

“It just comes with being a Mother Dragon sweetheart.”

We were soon surrounded by each dragon that had come into my life. Deacon flew on ahead leading the pack and let out a proud roar that pierced the sky as we flew off into the great beyond far beyond the sun.

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crispychrissy · 5 years

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Foreshadow - Part 1

Summary: Sam and Dean take on a pack of werewolves. Characters: Y/N, Garth, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other OCs Word Count: 3120 Warnings: Angst, violence, MCD (kinda), language, roughhousing, sassy!Reader, more angst A/N: This story is probably going to be at least 2-3 parts. I’m not sure if it’ll have smut, but it will definitely be interesting. There’s a bit of sciencey stuff in here, so if you’re confused, leave a comment and I’ll explain. I will post the next part next Tuesday, and Bed of Roses will continue to be posted on Saturday until it’s finished. :) This was edited by the ever so lovely @dean-winchesters-bacon. Enjoy! Part 2 - Part 3

Clicking the headlights of the Impala off, Dean came to a stop at the end of a gravel driveway. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the time and GPS location on the map before opening his door and stepping out, retrieving his pistol from his jacket and slipping his phone back in his pocket. Sam stepped out of the passenger’s side and they both quietly closed their doors and headed toward the small abandoned shack at the end of the driveway.

Dean readied up at the front door, his nose twitching at the pungent smell of mold and dust. Sam was on the opposite side of the door frame from him and nodded once, signaling he was ready. Dean’s fingers tightened around the barrel of his pistol and he raised his other hand, holding three fingers up. Slowly, he counted down and once he tucked his pinky into his fist, he stepped in front of the door and landed a hard kick to the area next to the door knob, sending the flimsy wooden door off its rusted hinges and onto the floor with a plume of dust.

Sam was first one through the door, pistol raised, and fired immediately at the werewolf that came stomping out of the doorway to his right. The grizzled man slumped to the floor with a loud thud, and a high pitched scream pierced the air, making Dean and Sam’s heads snap up.

“Back right,” Dean hissed, pointing to the doorway the werewolf came from. “Go, I’ll cover you.”

Sam nodded once and slunk through the door, sweeping his pistol back and forth as he walked, muscles tense and finger resting over the trigger. There was a door at the end of the hall that had a bloody handprint smudged on the door frame that was faded brown by age. The Winchesters readied up on that door like how they did on the front door and when Dean counted down to zero, he kicked the door open.

There was five people inside the room, two female and three male, all with beady green eyes, yellowed teeth, and dirty claws except for the woman in the middle whose brown eyes were wide and terrified. She was restrained in the chair she was sitting in, and there was a large knife being held to her throat by one of the werewolves to her right.

Dean opened his mouth to negotiate, but a low chuckle from the werewolf holding the knife drew his attention and the aim of his gun. The male wolf lowered his knife and grinned, sheathing it in the holster on his hip. The apparent victim they were there to rescue lifted her arms, sending the ropes around her arms to the floor. She stood up from the chair, a large smile splitting her face as her canines extended and eyes flashed green.

“Gotcha,” she chirped, then snapped her fingers.

The three male werewolves surrounding her jumped forward toward the Winchesters. Sam managed to put one down before the other wolf slapped his pistol away and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him into the wall next to the door. Dean shot rapidly, landing a kill on the female werewolf in back and a shoulder shot on one of male werewolves rushing him.

Dean heard a swish and then an intense burning sensation in his stomach made him grunt and look down. The knife that was pressed against the woman’s throat was now embedded in his abdomen with blood slowly spreading over the surrounding fabric of his flannel. Stumbling a few feet backward, Dean shakily wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife and looked over at his brother.

“Sammy,” Dean gasped, his legs starting to go numb.

Sam’s eyes went wide seeing the knife sticking out of Dean’s stomach. The werewolf pressed harder on Sam’s neck as he began to struggle even more. “Dean!” he wheezed, trying to land punches and kicks on the werewolf.

“End it,” the female werewolf spat, eyeing the bodies on the floor before turning toward the Winchesters.

Dean shouted weakly as the werewolf wrapped his fingers around his Sam’s throat and squeezed before twisting his head violently to the side. A sickening snap filled the quiet air of the shack and Dean watched helplessly as his brother’s body slumped to the floor, his eyes open yet lifeless and his neck tilted at an unnatural angle.

“Sam,” Dean whimpered before coughing, blood spraying from his lips as tears ran down his face. His legs were fully numb now and he dropped to his knees before slumping back and sitting on his heels.

The female werewolf sauntered forward and stopped to squat down in front of Dean. “I’ve always wanted to taste Winchester,” she purred. “Don’t worry, Dean. You’ll see Sam again real soon.”

Dean took a shuddering breath as his eyes slipped closed. The burning ache in his stomach increased in intensity as the knife was yanked from his flesh with a wet squelch. He thought of Sam, lying motionless on the floor as the knife was pressed down and dragged hard across his throat, splitting the skin open and sending blood spraying everywhere with every beat of his heart. Dean’s body felt weightless as he collapsed to the floor, the numbness in his limbs beginning to spread toward his torso, and he welcomed the darkness consuming his mind like an old friend.

***

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she sat upright, her hands immediately going for her throat, fingers frantically searching for a fatal wound that wasn’t there. Realizing her skin was untouched and it was a dream, she exhaled quickly and fell back onto her pillow, rubbing her eyes.

“Not again.”

Throwing the blankets off her legs, she reached out toward her nightstand and grabbed the dusty pad of paper and pen she kept there whenever these dreams would plague her. As quickly as she could, she began writing down details about what she saw: the names of the men, the time and location on the phone screen, and the monsters they were hunting along with how many there were total. Most of the time the dreams afforded her at least twenty-four hours before they came true, but this was her first dream in almost a year (after usually getting them every three to four weeks), so she couldn’t be sure at their accuracy anymore.

Once Y/N wrote down how the men died, swallowing the bile rising in the back of her throat, she reached for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found who she was looking for and pressed the call button, putting the phone to her ear.

“‘Ello,” a gruff sleepy voice answered after the fourth ring.

“Garth?” she quietly breathed out. “I had another one. Two hunters this time, killed by werewolves. It was really bad. They were lured into a trap and we really need to find them as soon as possible. It’s been so long since I last dreamed about hunters dying and I don’t want to be too late if we–”

“Y/N,” Garth interrupted. “Calm down, doll, you sound like my ramblin’ Aunt Gertrude after twenty cups of coffee.”

“Right, sorry.” Y/N took several deep breaths, trying to calm her fluttering heart. Once she was as relaxed as she was probably going to be after vividly seeing two people be murdered, she cleared her throat. “‘Kay, much better.”

There was shuffling on the line before Garth spoke again. “Good. So what were the names of these hunters?”

“Sam and Dean,” she answered. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

***

The rundown about the Winchesters had Y/N’s head spinning, but Garth explained that he texted them she was coming, so at least they would be expecting her. The idea of a bunker was a bit odd, and Y/N packed some clothes and basic necessities just in case they had a place for her to sleep if they needed her. Since the coordinates Garth gave her were only three hours away, Y/N set off right away and ended up arriving a little after seven in the morning.

The set of steps leading down to the rusted metal door were ominous, making Y/N hesitate before carefully descending the stairs and banging loudly on the door, gripping her duffel bag tightly in her fist. It took almost three minutes before the door was unlocked with a loud bang and swung open, revealing a sleepy-eyed Dean Winchester wearing a robe and slippers.

“Who’re you?” he growled, shifting to his right as Sam came up the stairs, gun in hand, pointing it at Y/N.

Swallowing, she averted her eyes from the gun and looked at Dean. “I, uhh, I’m Y/N? Garth texted you that I was stopping by.”

Dean glanced at his brother who shook his head. “We didn’t get a text from Garth.”

Sam frowned. “He might have texted the old phones, Dean, go call him. I’ll stay with our guest in the war room.”

Dean grumbled something about Garth being annoyingly chipper and stomped down the metal staircase, disappearing through a doorway. Sam motioned Y/N inside with his gun, keeping it trained on her as he stepped aside and allowed her in, closing it after her. The bunker was huge, albeit dated, but Y/N could sense there was a lot of history within the structure’s walls. Slowly, she walked down the stairs and was directed to a chair next to a giant illuminated map of the world.

“This place is amazing,” Y/N murmured, wide eyes looking around and taking in the scenery. “How long have you lived here?”

“Uhh, about six years or so,” Sam replied, hopping up to sit on the table. He rested his gun in his lap, but it was still aimed at Y/N.

“I can sense other energies here. Older energies. I’m guessing you guys were the first people to be living here in quite a while?” Y/N observed, running her hand along the warmth coming from the top of the table.

“Yeah…” Sam tilted his head, then smiled, nodding. “Ah. You’re psychic.”

Y/N smiled, returning her hand to her lap. “Yup. It’s why I’m here.”

Dean walked back into the war room, slipping his cell phone into his pocket. “She’s legit. Garth said she’s a psychic who dreams about hunters dying.”

Sam’s head spun toward her and his expression turned from intrigue to fear. “You saw us?” Y/N nodded. “Who?”

“Both of you,” Y/N whispered, looking down at her lap, playing with a loose thread on her pants. “You walk into a trap set by werewolves. I don’t know what day it’s supposed to take place, but the time I saw was eleven thirty-four at night, and the GPS put you a few miles east of Hansen, Idaho at some run down shack.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he walked up the steps into the library, grabbing the laptop off the table before returning to the map table and sitting down. “I bookmarked a news story last night,” Dean murmured, tapping rapidly on the keyboard. “Here, take a look.” He spun the laptop around.

Y/N and Sam leaned in, skimming the article. It mentioned several campers being killed in the woods over the last few days, and all of them were found torn apart and missing their hearts.

Sam leaned back once he had gotten the gist of the article and ran a hand down his face. “So this is actually a pack of werewolves killing a few people to draw in hunters?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged and pushed the laptop back to Dean. “My dreams usually come true within a few days, and the town that article is from is right outside Hansen, so it fits.”

Dean typed on the laptop, bringing up a map of Idaho, and Y/N was right; the two towns were mere miles apart. “Right, so Y/N can give us the rundown of what happens so we’re prepared, then we’ll kick some werewolf ass before another hunter gets wind of it.”

“It’s not that simple. Even if I tell you guys what happens so you know what to expect, the werewolves will set up the trap differently.” Y/N sighed heavily, already seeing the defiance in Dean’s eyes. “Another more powerful psychic I met years ago explained it had something to do with continuity and fate. In order to alter a vision, I have to change something.”

“Absolutely not,” Dean protested, shaking his head as he shut the laptop. “You’re not coming with us, and I don’t give a rats ass about how you say you stop them.”

Throwing her arms in the air, Y/N stood from the chair and grabbed her bag. “Fine, go on the hunt with just the two of you. Get killed. See if I care,” she grumbled, stomping toward the stairs, “stupid stubborn hunter assholes.”

“Wait. Y/N, please wait.” Sam’s voice made her turn around, an annoyed eyebrow raised at the younger Winchester. “Please.”

“Fine.”

Y/N dropped her bag to the floor and crossed her arms across her chest. It wasn’t the first time a hunter didn’t believe her gift or the technical details about altering a vision. And unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time she’d been told to get lost only to learn that the hunter ended up dying on the same hunt she saw in her vision. She wasn’t going to have any more blood on her hands.

“Come on,” Sam murmured, grabbing Dean by the arm and guiding him up the stairs into the library. “Dean, you’ve interacted with psychics before, you know that stopping a vision isn’t as simple as knowing what’s going to happen.”

“That’s not what happened when we saved Patience. She could saw what happened and then when we got there told us to duck and move to avoid the wraith,” Dean growled, shaking out of his brother’s hold. “Did you test her? Is she actually the real Y/N? What if she got turned and was sent by that pack to lure us in?”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, really? Patience reads objects and energies just like her grandmother did, you know that. Those visions happen moments before an event and only leaves the person less than a minute to react. Y/N has dreams, and the longer between the vision and the event, the harder it is to change thanks to how quantum timelines are fluid until an action causes it to start solidifying. Like a domino effect.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

Sam sighed. “Nevermind, just… trust me, okay? The Men of Letters have a lot of books on time travel, timeline manipulation, and multiverse theory.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Such a nerd.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up his hand. “Yeah, I get it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t want to be responsible for getting someone killed.”

“I’m a retired Marine, I know how to hold my own.” Y/N said, leaning against the concrete pillar at the bottom of the stairs. “And you guys really don’t know how to use your inside voices.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed and he ran a hand through his hair, ducking his chin. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you guys don’t know me and are hesitant to trust me. I get it, really. Garth gave me the cliff notes of your history, and I honestly shouldn’t have been surprised.” Y/N pushed off the pillar and walked over to the entrance to the library. “But I don’t want to have both of your deaths on my conscience if I can help it.”

Dean pushed past Sam and started Y/N down. “Ex-Marine huh? Think you could take me down?”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Dean, I don’t think that’s–”

Y/N leaped forward, wrapping her arms around Dean’s torso as she tackled him to the floor. He did some wrestling in high school when John kept them in the same town for more than a few weeks, so he knew how to maneuver his body to gain an advantage. Unfortunately, he was extremely rusty, and Y/N had managed to pin him on his side and wrap her legs around his thighs while holding one of his arms at a very uncomfortable angle behind his back. When her other arm came up and pressed against Dean’s throat in a choke hold, he grunted and let his body go lax.

“No such thing as an ex-Marine,” she whispered in his ear before releasing him.

Dean grit his teeth together and scurried away from her before getting to his feet, slapping away her extended hand and offer to help him up. “Yeah, whatever.”

“So are we all done with the elementary school playground stuff?” Sam asked, and both Y/N and Dean nodded. “Great. Y/N, I’m guessing you know what you have to do to change the vision?”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the p. “Aside from being there, I can’t tell you what I’m planning. Since the two of you are who this vision are based on, sharing my plan will allow the timeline to adjust and plan for whatever I was going to do.”

“And we’re just supposed to trust you?” Dean asked incredulously looking over at Sam. “Dude, come on, this doesn’t sound legit at all.”

Y/N stepped closer to him and calmed her urge to shout in his face. “Dean, you can call Garth again if you’d like. The reason he knows who I am is because I saved his life. I was lucky enough to see the license plate of his car and call in a favor with a former squad mate who now works for the FBI. Tony gave me his alias and it wasn’t hard to track him down from that.”

Dean stared her down and pursed his lips, debating whether or not he could trust a complete stranger with his life, even if she was well trained and had saved a friend of his. But getting his brother killed and then getting killed himself, he’d rather put stock in a cute psychic girl than try to take on fate.

“Fine,” Dean exhaled. “Let’s go not get killed, I guess.”

Dean stormed out of the library and disappeared through the same doorway he exited earlier. Sam sighed, but didn’t move to follow, instead placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I hope so.”

***

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @growningupgeek @jensen-gal @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @lastactiontricia @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @researchandbones @wayward-angelgirl @bojabee @maddiepants

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @focusonspn @spnwoman @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @sandlee44 @spn--imagines @sadwaywardkid @roonyxx @blackcherrywhiskey @thefaithfulwriter

Sam: @hunterswearingplaid @focusonspn @spnwoman @luciferseclipse

#foreshadow #part 1 #dean x reader #sam x reader #platonic winchesters #at least for now #angst #mcd #major character death #psychic!reader #violence #badass reader

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