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zepskies · 5 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

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holylulusworld · 4 months

Text

Christmas with a demon

Summary: Dean won’t let you go. Never.

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of kidnapping, a hint of fluff, kidnapping

“Dean, can we not go home? I bet Sammy is missing us,” you tug at Dean’s wrist. “Christmas is soon, and I don’t want to spend it on the road.”

“Why not?” He cocks his head to watch you walk toward him. You’re wearing only his red shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks. Dean smirks as you limp a little – the aftermath of his insatiable desire for you. “We got us.”

You sigh deeply. “Dean, you are a demon and I’m still your hostage or something.” You wrinkle your nose when he tells you that this is a relationship, not a hostage situation. “This is not how I imagined our relationship would turn out. I wanted love, not being a demon’s toy.”

“You’re not a toy to me,” he argues. Dean rubs his scruffy chin, wondering how he can convince you to not leave him. He won’t keep you around using force. “Fine, I’ll get you a tree and all. Wait here.”

“Wait, what are you—" you sigh as he’s halfway toward his car before you can stop him. He’s still the man you love, but so different at the same time. “I don’t want a tree, only my Dean back, and for Sam to not be alone on Christmas.”

“Don’t open your eyes,” Dean whispers as he guides you away from the Impala. “I mean it, baby. No cheating.”

“Where are we going?” You can’t see because Dean put a bandana over your eyes. “Dean, I don’t like this. I hope you didn’t find another spot you want to christen.”

“No, sweetheart,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck. “It’s a surprise, a Christmas surprise. You’ll love it, Y/N.”

You let Dean guide you toward a house. He tells you to wait as he unlocks the door and opens it for you. “Dean, where are we? I don’t like this.”

“Just relax, sweetheart. I swear you’ll love it,” he tuts and shoves you inside the house. He slams the door shut with his boot, chuckling as something sounding like a picture frame drops to the ground. “Alright, here it is.”

He takes the bandana off, allowing you to see. You gasp as you are standing in a living room decorated for Christmas. A huge Christmas tree stands in the corner, and there are at least twenty beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree.

“Dean, how did you?” You frown as your eyes land on the picture frames on a shelf above the fireplace. “Where are we? What did you do?”

“Uh-Crowley sent me to collect a few souls,” he shrugs. “Guy was due in three days. I sent him to hell a little faster.”

“What?” You turn around to look at Dean. “You killed the man on Christmas Eve? How could you? How?”

“Relax,” he cups your cheek. “I was joking. I only hijacked their Christmas. They are at a motel, believing there is a gas leak at their home. We have all night, Y/N:”

“No,” you sniffle and sidestep Dean. “We will leave their home and you will call them and tell them everything is alright. You can’t just steal their Christmas. This is not what I wanted.”

He groans. “What did you want? A tree? Gifts?”

“I wanted the man I love back, and for my family to not worry about me and you. I wanted to drive home for Christmas and make sure Sammy was not alone. You will never understand what I want because you’re not my Dean.”

Dean chases after you when you storm off. You shake his hand off and glare at him. “Leave me alone. If you want to play happy couple, do it. But I’m out of this!”

“Wake, wake,” Dean purrs in your ear. He pecks your cheek, trying to wake you. “Sweetheart, I know you are awake.”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble. “Just leave me alone. You’re worse than the Grinch. How could you steal their Christmas and house.”

“I gave it back,” he grumbles, looking offended at your reaction. “Stop moping and get up. I don’t want you to spend Christmas in bed. I mean, we could spend it in bed, but I got a surprise for you.”

“I pass,” you grunt. “If it’s as awful as the last one, please keep it to yourself.”

“Nah, you will love that one. Promised.”

“Fine. If it’s a ribbon around your dick I must disappoint you. Dean pulled that prank three years ago.”

“I remember,” he purrs. “You loved to unwrap your gift.”

“Dean,” you sigh as he hopefully looks at you. His eyes barely turn black these days and you hope, if you play along he will agree to let Sam heal him. “Okay. What’s the surprise?”

“Just wait for it…”

“What did you do?” You look around the poorly decorated motel room.

The tree looks like he stole it from another home.

There are half-wrapped gifts and annoying Christmas songs are blaring from his phone. But the worst is that Sam is sitting on a chair, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I got you a tree, gifts, and Sammy!” Dean proudly states. He points at his brother, restrained to a chair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart!”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #demon dean x reader #demon!dean #Christmas with a demon

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spnexploration · 4 months

Text

A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

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octoberclidan · 4 months

Text

We Don't Really Do Christmas

Prompt: something like she wants to do something with them that they don't want to do, but for her birthday they make an exception and do it for/with her? Or putting up christmas decor with dean!!!!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, also a bit of platonic Sam Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

"Hey, where do you keep the Christmas decorations?" [Y/N] asked as she walked into the bunker's kitchen to find Sam and Dean.

"What Christmas decorations?" Dean asked. He was lounging at the kitchen table with his afternoon coffee, while Sam was having a post-workout smoothie.

"You know... the decorations that you put up at Christmas? I had a look around but this place is so big I figured it would be quicker just to ask", she shrugged as she leaned against the doorway and waited for one of them to tell her. She'd only moved into the bunker a month ago, and with only one week left before Christmas, she was eager to get the place decorated so she could start to feel a bit more festive.

"[Y/N], we've told you what Chuck is like. You've met angels, you still want to celebrate Christmas?" Sam chuckled before he finished off the last of his smoothie.

"It's more of a nostalgia thing. I like the lights, and the music, the hot chocolate and the smell of the Christmas tree! I've already wrapped up your presents, I need a tree to put them under", she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow as both Sam and Dean started to laugh quietly. "What is so funny?" She frowned at them.

"Nothing, just didn't know you were into all that", Sam shrugged. "I don't think we have any decorations".

"None?!"

"Monsters don't take Christmas off, Sweetheart. We could be miles away next week on a case. We don't really do Christmas", Dean knocked back the rest of his coffee and stood up to throw his mug into the sink. "You didn't have to get us presents either".

"Yeah, well, I did anyway". She tried to hide her disappointment at their lack of enthusiasm, but she never did have a good poker face.

"Hey, if it's that important to you, I can go look for a few decorations in town later", Sam smiled softly at her, but she sighed and shook her head at him.

"No it's okay, never mind". Before waiting for a response, she turned and left the kitchen, feeling a little bit childish at her reaction, but she'd never just not done Christmas before.

***

[Y/N] was woken up by a knock on her door. Not long after she'd asked the boys about decorations, Sam had found a case which had kept all of them on the road and occupied for almost a week. It was now Christmas Eve, and they'd only arrived back in the bunker the previous afternoon. [Y/N] had chosen not to set an alarm, and to just allow herself to wake up whenever her body decided that she'd had enough sleep, so she wasn't too surprised when she glanced at her clock and saw that it was already 11am. She rubbed her eyes when there was another knock on the door. "Yeah?" She called out. "You can come in".

"Happy Christmas Eve", Sam grinned at her as he stepped into her room, two mugs in his hands.

"Happy Christmas... Eve? What's going on?" She asked, still in the process of waking up. The thought of Christmas had been pushed to the back of her mind during the hunt in order to give her entire focus to the case, and coming home to a non-decorated bunker hadn't reminded her of what day she was going to wake up to. Sam walked over to her and handed her one of the mugs, and her nose was instantly met with the smell of chocolate. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yep, Dean's orders", he chuckled, and he used his now free hand to grab something that he had tucked under his arm, sitting it down on the bed.

"Dean's?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Yeah", Sam laughed, and patted the package on the bed. "This is from him too. You have to drink your hot chocolate, put this on, then come out to the library", he smiled as he took a sip out of his own mug.

"I am so confused".

"I was too, but then I realised what this is all about and now it makes perfect sense", he winked at her. "It'll make sense to you too. Don't take too long!" Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned around and left her room, leaving her blinking after him. 'Put this on'? She thought as she took a sip from her mug, pleasantly surprised to find that the hot chocolate had been made with real melted chocolate, not powder. She reached over to the package and pulled it onto her lap, it was soft and squishy when she felt it. She ripped it open carefully and smiled as a familiar red and white snowflake-patterned material poked through the wrapping. It was a pair of fluffy pyjamas that she'd held up to have a look at when she had been on a supply run with Dean during the hunt earlier in the week. She'd wanted them, but she knew she wouldn't be able to wear them on hunts without being teased. She didn't even know that he'd seen them, but he must have been watching when she'd pulled them up to feel their softness against her cheek in the store. She felt a warmth spread through her as she considered his thoughtfulness.

***

Once she'd finished her drink and had put on the pyjamas, she strolled out to make her way to the bunker's library, but stopped in her tracks before she'd even closed her bedroom door behind her. The corridor had multicoloured lights strung up all along both walls, all the way down to the end. She smiled to herself and felt a rush of excitement as she walked down the corridor. The sound of Christmas music filled her ears as she got closer to the library, and the familiar scent of pine hit her just before she walked in. She stopped and took a deep breath, partially to take in the smell and sense of nostalgia, and partially to calm her nerves.

She wasn't exactly sure why she was feeling nervous, maybe because she still didn't really know what was going on, or maybe because Dean, someone who held a special place in her heart, was doing something so nice for her. She took one more breath before stepping into the library to find Dean sitting on one of the couches which had been pushed against one of the bookshelves. The tables and chairs had all been pushed aside too to make space for a large Christmas tree in the centre of the room, nearly as tall as the room itself. Her mouth dropped open as she looked around the room, it had been decorated with little snowflake and reindeer ornaments hung on the walls and shelves, there were more multicoloured lights hung along the ceiling, and there was a large variety of snacks and treats laid out on one of the tables. Finally, her eyes landed on Dean, who was beaming at her. She'd never seen him look so excited. The lights were twinkling in his eyes, he was wearing his warmest red flannel, and if the lighting was a bit brighter, she might have seen a light blush under his freckles.

"What is all of this?" She giggled as she stepped into the room.

"It's Christmas", he grinned at her, then looked around the room, admiring his own work.

"What happened to 'we don't really do Christmas'? She asked, mimicking his deep voice and making him chuckle.

"Well, this year we are", he shrugged, then slowly pushed himself up and walked over to her, looking down at her. "I uh, I saw how disappointed you were last week when we said we don't do Christmas. I couldn't get that look out of my head. I don't like seeing you like that, I want you to be happy, and I want you to have everything you want here".

She blushed and looked down at his words. No one had ever gone through this much trouble for her before, not just to make her happy. She felt heard, and she felt cared for. "Thank you", she muttered before looking back up at him. "This means a lot to me".

"Well, since it's Christmas I won't feel too embarrassed by being cheesy when I say this, but you mean a lot to me. You have for a long time now, long before you moved in here. You make a positive difference to my life, and I know Sam's too. If you're happy, I'm happy". He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she took a shaky breath. "Look up", he whispered, and she looked at him in confusion before tilting her head back.

"Is that... mistletoe?"

"Yeah... Sam caught me putting that up, that's when he said this all made sense to him". She looked back at him and could now see his blush for herself. She smiled up at him and cautiously lifted her hands up to wrap around his neck, almost waiting for him to laugh and step away from her, but he didn't. Instead, at her lack of rejection, he smirked and placed his hands onto her hips, pulling her closer. He glanced between both of her eyes, admiring them, before she closed them. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, and they both sighed, the nerves making their way out. The kiss was soft, and gentle. There was no rush to it, no hurry, it was like it was just the two of them in the world and they had all the time they needed.

When they finally pulled away, they smiled at each other and Dean pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head and swaying slightly with the music. She dropped her hands to wrap around his waist, and they swayed with each other, just enjoying the atmosphere, as the music played through several songs.

"You two ready?" They finally pulled away from each other when Sam's voice broke through their bubble. They turned to face him, but Dean kept his arm wrapped around her.

"Ready?" She asked.

"For decorating the tree?" He asked, nodding down to the bags he had in each hand. She looked behind her to the tree and realised that it didn't have any decorations on it, apart from the same lights that lined the room. "Here", Sam said as he handed one of the bags to her. "Oh, and Dean, I got that photo you asked for", he said as he routed through his pocket, pulling out a photo that Cas had taken for his fake IDs.

"What's that for?" [Y/N] giggled as Sam passed it to Dean.

"Top of the tree", Dean stated matter-of-factly.

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon decorating the tree, taking regular breaks to eat through the snacks on the table, and listened as Dean explained exactly what he was going to cook for Christmas Dinner, and about how he'd invited all of their friends and nearly all of them were coming. It was going to be the best Christmas that any of them had ever had, and for the first time in a very long time, Dean was looking forward to Christmas Day.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 months

Text

Productive Ways to Make Up | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x afab!female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.1k

✦ request — Maybe taking charge of the plus size reader. Like hot angry rough sex. Spanking maybe? Idk that just seems like it would be a good one. Maybe just they get in a fight during the holidays. Like at the readers family’s Christmas party. Then dean takes charge of her and they have angry rough sex

✦ warnings — nsfw, teasing, hints of a fight, smut, spanking (reader receiving), angry sex, rough sex, fellatio, face fucking (reader receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), creampie, aftercare.

✦ author's note — changed this to a New Year’s party just to fit the date better.

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The fight got out of hand easily, as things often did with Dean. It was one of those fights that you didn’t know how escalated to this, on this day specifically when you needed him on his best behavior.

Your parents had been excited to finally see you for more than a couple of hours, happy that your hectic schedule had given you a break for New Year’s. You had to skip Thanksgiving and Christmas because you were out of town, your mom didn’t take it well. This party was supposed to be perfect for everybody.

Dean rarely made things hard for you, but he had to do it today, apparently.

You left early, making up an emergency with Dean’s brother. Poor Sam, you had to drag him into this just so your dad wouldn’t start hating your partner out of nowhere.

For the first time in a very long time, getting home was worse for your mood. Dean didn’t help, glaring at you as you peeled off your jacket as if you had done anything wrong, as if you started the stupid fight.

He grabbed you by the hips before you could leave the living room, grip tight and strong. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the bedroom. Or am I not allowed?”

“Watch it,” he warned.

“I need to call my mom and assure her Sam isn’t dying.”

Dean pushed you against the wall to stop you, trapping you with his warm body to the cold wallpaper.

“Dean…” You struggled against his hold.

“Oh, honey, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

In most circumstances, you would wiggle against his hands just to egg him on. But this time, you honestly simply wanted to annoy him into letting you cross the living room and hopefully find the warmth of your cozy bed where you could call your mom and take a nap.

Dean had other plans. You hated that you weren’t as against them as you wanted to be. After all, it was a more productive way to take out your anger than yelling at each other in the middle of the half-empty living room on New Year’s Eve.

Your breaths mingled as both of you opened your mouths to say something. Dean took charge, as he often did with these things, and leaned in to kiss you.

A hand of his came up to grip your chin, forcing your mouth open to slip his tongue past your red lips. You squirmed, feeling your skirt ride up at the movement between the wall and Dean’s bulk.

“Don’t be a brat,” he gritted out. Yet he traced the outside of your thighs with both hands, forcing your skirt to bunch up at your hips. Humming against your skin, he manhandled you toward the couch.

His hands fell on your ass. He made it jiggle with a light spank, laughing when you gasped in surprise. “That okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you consented.

He immediately spanked you again. “Count for me.”

“One,” you mumbled as the first slap landed. Dean hummed, you could picture the smile on his face, and did it again. “Two.”

“See how easy everything is when you listen to me?” He sounded almost condescending. Slapping you again, harder, he waited for you to count once more before rubbing his hand over the spot he had just hit.

He made you count to ten, careful not to make you cry. No matter how pretty you looked with tears streaming down your face, this was clearly about control, not a punishment.

Rubbing your ass, Dean ripped your pantyhose and spread your legs open. “Of course you’re fucking dripping already.”

He sat on the couch and brought you onto his lap. You would probably ruin his new pants, but by the way he grabbed you and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, that was his intention.

You moaned as he pushed his tongue against yours. Before you could start enjoying yourself with the kiss, Dean pulled away. He even laughed when you whined.

“Be patient,” he told you. “You aren’t supposed to enjoy this too much.”

You pouted, naively thinking it would convince him. Dean wasn’t in a playful mood, he just wanted to remind you who was in charge and why. His grip on you tightened, bringing you flush against him.

The tent in his pants brushed against your sensitive skin. He purposefully drove you to move your hips backward, then forward. You rested your hands on his chest, grinding against him of your own volition.

"You're enjoying this, huh."

Dumbly, you hummed. His laugh almost snapped you out of it, but it was too late. You cried out as he stopped you from keeping grinding. It bordered on torture, feeling the texture of his pants on your bare skin, rough and so readily available for you to get off.

Dean pushed you to your knees and undid his pants in haste, pulling his cock out of his underwear swiftly. He petted your head for a moment, then tapped his cock against your cheek. “Open up.”

You did so, resting your hands on your thighs in expectancy.

He caressed your cheek before shoving his cock into your mouth, only careful not to get to your throat for a moment. As he hit your throat, you gagged from the force, then relaxed as your brain registered what was happening.

He groaned as you began to hollow your cheeks, thrusting his hips up and choking you with his cock. You gagged once again, balling up your fists. Not touching him was worse than the sensation in your throat, that one you weirdly enjoyed, something about him causing you to gag and slobber all over his cock simply did something to you.

He knew.

“Should have known this would shut you up.” He rutted his hips, groaning deeply as his cock slipped down your throat.

He grunted as your tongue slid along his cock, gripping your face tightly so he could fuck your mouth at a quicker pace. The only indication you got that he wanted to come was him pressing your face to his pelvis.

Before you could taste the familiar salty cum, he pushed you off his cock and caressed your neck with his thumbs as he regained his breath.

"On your back."

You understood he meant on the couch simply because you were sure he would never fuck you into the floor when your backs were so ruined from all the hunting. So you laid on the couch you had fucked on more times than you could count and waited for him to get inside you.

Dean showed you two fingers. "Keep these warm for me, yeah?"

You nodded and opened your mouth, eager to suck on his fingers. Dean cackled, shaking his head.

"Can't leave this pussy unattended, honey." He teased at your entrance, gathering the slick dripping down your labia. "So good for me," he mumbled to himself.

Sliding his middle and ring finger inside you, Dean hummed to himself. "Knew you'd be warm and ready for me."

Teasingly, he curled his fingers. You whimpered.

"More." You couldn't help yourself.

He started shoving his fingers in and out, thrusting like he had done this a million times before. He almost had. The lewd sounds bouncing against the walls made your skin grow hot, feeling yourself getting more aroused at the wet echoes.

You squeezed around his fingers and rolled into his hand. Dean tsked, shaking his head. He tried to hide his proud smile from you as best as he could, but the cockiness always won over. His thumb grazed your clit as he wiggled his digits inside you, crisscrossing them.

"You know what? Go ahead, fuck yourself on my fingers. Can't do all the work for you."

Rutting against Dean's hand, you allowed yourself to enjoy the tendrils of pleasure every time his thumb made contact with your clit and his digits became buried inside you. He would stroke against your movements when you would get too complacent, reminding you he was still in charge. As if you would have it any other way.

You gasped out his name, hands floundering in search of something to hold onto. Dean removed his fingers before you could even grasp your orgasm.

Taunting you, he licked his fingers clean. "You would have made your mess already if you hadn't been so difficult earlier. You know that, right?"

You mumbled a reminder, "You were difficult too."

"Take that back," he demanded, wrapping a hand around his hard cock.

You shook your head, frustrated to no end as Dean started to pump the cock you should have been riding already.

As if reading your mind, and somehow agreeing, he roughly grabbed your thighs and forced your legs open enough to slot himself between them. He slapped his cock against your clit, smirking when you jolted. He did it a couple more times, only stopping when he dragged his tip along your slit to wet it.

Dean coated his cock all over with your wetness, using his fingers to gather some more for good measure. The emptiness inside you grew. All of this was not only unnecessary but only dragged your so much-needed pleasure.

"Gonna fuck some manners into you, honey," he announced in glee as he pushed inside you.

"Uh-huh."

He hovered over you to kiss you, sticking his tongue into your mouth while holding your legs open. You panted as he thrust into you with little care of pace or rhythm, only worried about fucking you stupid.

"I can feel how badly you want to come already," he boasted, relentlessly pumping his cock into you like he would die if he didn't reach as deep as humanly possible. "Hold on," he insisted, almost desperate. "You gotta wait until I tell you to."

Just as you were going to hum in acknowledgment, he pulled out and forced a desperate cry out of you. Dean grabbed your hips, guiding you onto your knees and hands.

Pressing his chest to your back, he pushed back in. His hands moved to your belly, searching for the hem of your top; as he found it, he rode it upward. Some of his fingers were ice cold, leaving goosebumps all over your skin as his hands reached your breasts.

He pulled on your breasts as he pistoned into you, quickly and harshly, pushing your face into the couch. You gasped for air, whining as you ground back against him, chasing permission to come.

Dean wouldn't relent that easily. He dropped your breasts, wrapping an arm tightly around you whilst resting his other hand on your thigh. Slapping your clit, he started to pant in your ear. "You're so fucking close," he told you, as if you didn't feel like you were on fire.

His fingers drew circles on your clit, applying as much pressure as your desperate humps and his hurried thrusts allowed him to. "Come on," he encouraged you, "let go. Make a mess all over my cock."

His thrusts only slowed down long enough for you to ride your high, coming so close to using him to get off that you hoped you would remember to plant the idea of trying that out into his head. He picked up the pace again, taking advantage of your pulsing walls and your half-relaxed state.

"Inside?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah." You moaned at the overstimulation, hoping he would just come already so you wouldn't have to go through more of it right now. Maybe later.

Not only did he fill you with cum but he pushed it deeper with a couple of pumps, moaning through a string of curses. His embrace loosened around you, but Dean didn't let go.

With his chest against your back and ragged breath in your ear, Dean coaxed you into laying flat on your stomach. "You okay, baby?"

You hummed. "Yeah, all good."

He kissed your shoulder and slowly withdrew from you, slipping out. "Gonna clean you up," he told you before you could ask if something was wrong.

Cleaning you up with a damp rag, Dean caressed your skin soothingly. "Can you sit up and drink some water?"

You gave it a try, groaning as you turned around on the couch. Sitting up was especially daunting as your sore ass made contact with the cushioned seat.

"I..."

You looked up at him, glass in both hands.

"I'll run you a bath, then we'll call your parents and invite them over for dinner this weekend."

"Really?"

"Really."

By the end of the night, you called your mom from your warm bed, head on Dean’s chest while his fingers traced your back.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester smut

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— HOLD ME LIKE A GRUDGE

SUMMARY : dean is a demon. it’s Christmas Eve and it’s exhausting to keep fighting him, but he’s accidentally knocked out by the reader. so, she took him back to her parents’ place to clean him up... but her whole family is already home.

PAIRING : demon!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : cenric (OMC), guren (OMC), koro (OMC), kandora (OFC), meliora (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, implied cheating, fluff, fun family time, toxic relationship, rough sex, intoxicated sex, p in v, unprotected sex

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

A/N : fall out boy song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — hot tub sex and drunk sex. let's pretend demon!Dean lasted for a long while. wtf is that name? it’s from the video game Destiny, probably (they have badass names, especially the villains/sometimes they’re ridiculous, lmao). XXxx

Y/n and Sam split up in their search for Dean.

Both were in search of him… and Crowley. But mostly Dean.

Dean didn’t behave much like any other demon. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He settled for over drinking, dancing, singing bad karaoke, sleeping with random women—which stung, killing people in self-defence. The list goes on, but he’s more bored than evil.

She knew Dean, even now, as a demon. This was Dean when he was bored. Not Dean being evil. That just wasn’t Dean.

She didn’t know it, but he was keeping tabs on her, too. He’d fool Crowley by promising to seal deals, pretending he was going off with a girl or two, getting away for some ‘Dean time’ doing random shit…

He was just going out to see her. There’s something that he can’t shake off about her. It might be the possessiveness, the ownership he feels towards her… it’s something he doesn’t understand, a tug deep within himself that yearns to be whole. A part of him that’s sure that missing piece is her.

Crowley sent demons after her. Of course he did, to slow her down, to throw her off. Dean lied to Crowley, the way he always did to get what he wanted. Instead of fleeing because ‘you’re getting too attached, let’s move on’, Dean stayed behind to make sure she made it out safely.

It irked him to feel that guardianship, that… need or whatever the hell it was that compelled him to keep her safe.

But, one thing led to another, she was outnumbered by about fifteen demons. She’d gotten at least five of them by the time Dean decided to show himself. He didn’t completely protect her from harm, but he saved her from possibly deadly blows.

She was stunned to see him there and she looked absolutely ravishing. Covered in blood. Her soft hair falling free from the tie holding her hair in place and out of the way. The focused furrow of her brows. The irritated scowl on her pretty face.

Dean got distracted. It was his first mistake, ever since he became a demon. He felt time slow down with only three demons left, the two of them moving in sync like nothing ever happened, like nothing stood between them.

“Six!” She shouted, expecting him to get down, but he didn’t. She punched him square in the face and his body fell loudly with a thud, but she didn’t let herself get distracted.

She killed the last three demons in a breeze because even they were astounded that the knight of hell, Dean Winchester, was knocked unconscious by a smaller hunter. By a human.

She didn’t bother cleaning up. Fifteen bodies? If Crowley didn’t want to be tracked, he’d clean it up on his own. Instead, she carefully pulled Dean out of the warehouse she was staying in as she stalked her boyfriend and Crowley.

She found his car nearby, poor Baby was a complete mess. She hid her stolen car behind the warehouse next to a bunch of tumbleweed, took everything that was hers, wiped it clean of prints and other evidence, and left in the Impala.

With Dean in the backseat, she wondered what she would do now. She didn’t expect for this to happen. The plan was originally to see what Dean and Crowley were up to, call Sam, then go back home as Sam took care of the rest.

It was too late for that. Her family was home waiting to celebrate the holidays. All of them cleared the schedules to get together, they’d planned it a whole year before, even she did and she was supposed to bring Dean.

Guess that’s still the case, except he’s a demon now… and she’s kidnapping him.

It was a long ride back home. It was inevitable that Dean would wake up completely pissed.

He glared at her from the backseat, cuffed with his arms behind him. The road was empty so there was nothing to put them in danger as he wasn’t secured with a seatbelt. Most importantly, it wouldn’t matter that she swerved so hard that he fell onto his side with a grunt before letting out a deep growl.

“Bitch!”

“Oh, stop it, it’s the least you deserve after everything you’ve done,” she muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Her heart hammered rapidly with anger and hatred, but she focused on driving herself home safely.

“I just helped you out,” he reminded her darkly, leaning against the car door to sit back up.

“Yeah, and I’m thanking you by saving your life,” she retorted.

“I’m fine.” She scoffed at him, but stared at him from the rearview mirror for a few seconds before he looked back at her. She realigned the car when it veered off slightly.

“You’re a demon.”

“I’m still me, sweetheart, just because you don-”

To prevent further conversation, she pulled out the first cassette tape she touched and shoved it into the car deck. The ride to her family’s home was tense and irritating because Dean decided to sing along tunelessly.

It was better than having to hear his insults or cruel comments. He was funny sometimes, too, when they made pit stops… even if she currently hated him.

“Ah, here we are, awesome,” Dean murmured sarcastically as she killed the purring engine of the Impala.

“Shut up, I’m tying you up in the basement,” she glared at him. He scoffed as she got out of the driver’s seat, walking around the front of the car to unlock the door for him.

“Hey! We’ve been waiting for you!” She heard from the doorway. It was her little sister who was now walking towards them.

“I’m going to shout,” Dean told her, gazing up at her with a feigned innocent expression. Green, sparkling eyes wide and a pout that almost reminded her of when he was human.

“Shut up,” she whispered harshly before lifting her head with a sweet smile towards her sister. “Hey, Dean’s got.. an embarrassing situation going on, think you can distract everyone for the meantime?” Her sister stopped where she was, her eyes flicking to Dean for a heartbeat or two and then to her older sister.

“Sure,” Kandora shrugged, quickly turning around and jogging up to the door.

“Cute,” Dean grunted. Y/n gripped the back of his red flannel and harshly yanked him out of the car, holding back a snicker when Dean bumped his head on the top of the inside of the car. “You know, this is the body of the man you used to make love to,” he reminded her with a sneer, leaning his back against his car as she shut the door.

She smiled at him sarcastically, “yeah, and then you used this body to fuck whores, so I don’t really care.” She grabbed the middle chain between the cuffs and tugged him the whole way to the entrance where they removed their shoes.

When she was fully inside the house she could hear her sister telling a story loudly while laughing hard along with her family.

She quickly made her way down to the basement, turning the light on before pushing Dean. He stumbled over the stairs and glared back at his lover when he regained his balance.

“Smart, no one could hear me here,” he told her with a smirk. She frowned at his words, freezing in the middle of uncuffing him after leaving him over an ugly rug where a devil’s trap was painted underneath.

She had a few quick flashbacks of her and Dean having sex in the soundproof basement when they could get away from all the family time. No one could hear them—and hopefully no one knew what was going on. Those were the perks of a retired hunter family.

She undid the cuffs and he gently massaged his wrists even if they healed up quickly. She watched curiously and then looked away to hand him a few clean up supplies that weren’t necessarily dangerous to her or her family.

She turned to look at him and opened her mouth.

“Let me guess: shut up and stay put?” He smiled down at her in an attempt to be charming, but she rolled her eyes, pretending it didn’t work.

“Oh, you’re so smart,” she praised bitingly, patting his cheek in a demeaning manner. He scowled and moved away from her to clean the demon blood off himself.

She made her way back upstairs to join her family who were now somewhat silent. Music played softly in the background. Thankfully, it wasn’t irritating Christmas music, but songs she recognised were her oldest brother’s favourite songs.

The scent of her favourite food wafted up her nose, arising hunger into her stomach that growled like a great beast. The lights weren’t too bright either, which allowed her to relax when she settled in the kitchen with her family as they waited for the food to get ready.

Her mother, father, two older brothers, and little sister sat around the table doing random things waiting for the food to finish cooking.

“Honey, you made it,” her mom, Meliora, smiled happily, halting when she saw the bloody state of her daughter, but her happy expression didn’t falter.

“Hey, mom, guys,” she smiled at her family bashfully, not looking them in the eyes. “I’m gonna clean up, just wanted to say hi before going upstairs,” she informed them.

“Good, you stink,” her brother Koro snorted playfully.

“Yeah, you didn’t have to say come hi, we could already smell you were here,” her oldest brother Cenric remarked just as mischievously.

They all broke into laughter and Y/n shook her head, giving her dad, Guren, a kiss on top of his greying head before making her way out of the kitchen to clean up.

Once she was done cleaning up—wearing cosy clothes from her past that her mom kept—she made her way downstairs again. Much to her dismay, she saw Dean wearing only a black t-shirt having the time of his life telling the embarrassing story about the time she got so flustered, she spit her milkshake out into the face of a woman who flirted with her when they were undercover for a Lamia case.

She wondered how he got out of the devil’s trap. She figured that maybe her parents removed it, but that wouldn’t be safe.

He smiled brightly when he looked up and saw her, acting like nothing was wrong in the world. It looked domestic, way too painfully domestic. The casualness of him leaning against the couch next to Kandora who was holding a mug of warm Champurado in her favourite yellow mug looked too natural. He wore only some socks and really looked like a boyfriend right now.

“Hey, babe,” Dean grinned and she forced a smile, making her way to him.

“Hey.”

As he wrapped his arm around her he murmured into her slightly wet hair, “you’re so lucky.” She hummed a laugh, feigning amusement and wrapped her arm around his waist to pinch his back harshly.

He tightened his grip around her and released a strained laugh before adding to the conversation, talking to her family and answering their questions the same way he would have if he weren’t a demon.

“I know we said no partners, but Dean and I were working a last minute case,” she began explaining to her mom.

“It’s okay,” Meliora smiled, “Dean explained already.” Her mother kissed her forehead and got up to check the food. “Besides, he’ll make sure there are no leftovers that will go bad.”

“Right,” she murmured, laughing softly as her mother disappeared into the kitchen with Guren getting up to help her out as well.

It was almost normal, except he’d sneak a couple of drinks—mostly alcoholic eggnog—until she could smell it in his breath, but he seemed completely unaffected by the alcohol. It was something her family didn’t catch on to throughout the evening. Although, the only one who knew about Dean’s drinking problem was Kandora—they told each other everything.

Dean was a bit more handsy as he got less sober, and he held his tongue most times to keep the conversation appropriate and respectful, save for a couple of swear words he’d exchange with Koro as they told each other stories.

When they all sat at the dinner table to finally eat, Dean kept his hand on her thigh. Occasionally, he’d pet her, sneaking his fingers teasingly between her thighs, brushing over the thin material of her thick leggings.

In response, she’d pretend to be cute and couple-y by lifting food up into his mouth and whispering warnings into his ear. She knew it only egged him on, he’d stare at her with a little smirk and even dared to kiss her with his mouth full of food, the corner of his lips smudged with tamale sauce.

He was even playful. It would have warmed her heart, except it was very irritating and hurtful to know it wasn’t even real. When Kandora dared him to eat her mom’s spiciest salsa with his tamales, he accepted the challenge, and permitted her to serve him what she wanted him to finish.

Y/n didn’t know if he was pretending or not, half the time.

Still, Dean kept up appearances by overeating, taking at least two servings of everything, even the cherry pie her little sister made especially for him once he finished eating tamales with Meliora’s spiciest salsa.

Even she resorted to drinking eggnog with alcohol to make the night easier, to loosen up a bit as Dean got clingier. She played along with Dean and finally, she was able to get away as midnight came and her family cleaned up to go to sleep.

It sucked to watch Dean help her mother wash dishes, the way he would have if he were human. As if he were truly her Dean. She was just glad he didn’t plan on hurting them, at least so far he hasn’t tried.

He just fit in perfectly with every single one of them, the way he always did. Easily moulding himself into whatever environment he was placed in. Everyone adored him, he was always so real, so loveable, so easy to talk to. He had a light to him that no one could recreate, one everyone was drawn to like moths to a flame.

“You drank too much,” she commented as she walked upstairs to her room with Dean behind her.

“Was the only way I could deal with you and not be an asshole with your whole family there,” he grunted, stepping in front of her to open the door, falling straight into her pink bed rather than holding the door open for her or shutting it behind them.

“Real thoughtful,” she muttered, shutting and locking the door of her childhood bedroom. “Get off my bed,” she ordered, making her way next to him. He only smiled, eyes closed, trying to be cute as he snuggled her pillow, verdant eyes fluttering open as he gazed up at her through long, beautiful lashes.

“Just join me instead and we can show this bed the action it’s been missing since you moved out,” Dean purred, turning over onto his back. He reached out for her wrist and tugged her forward, catching her with his arms around her waist. “You’re criticising me for drinking, but I can smell it on you, too,” he narrowed his eyes up at her.

“Shut up,” she muttered, squirming and wiggling until he let her roll over next to him. “I can’t stand you.” She grabbed the pillow beneath his head and yanked it out with a snicker, placing it between her legs as she turned over on her side.

“I’m still me,” he retorted, turning on his side to face her back.

“So ya keep sayin’,” she mumbled in irritation, trying to make her head stop spinning when she closed her eyes.

He sighed and scooted up on the bed, staring up boredly at the pink ceiling, the bright light at the centre. He knew she wasn’t asleep, she kept moving, trying to make her drunkenness stop her from sleeping peacefully.

He knew she wasn’t going to stop being angry at him, which was a complete one-eighty from the last time he saw her. She’d begged for him to come back to her, professed her undying, unchanging love for him… now, she seemed almost disgusted by him. It made him wonder what changed.

Irritation boiled in him, even jealousy made heat rise up his chest to his ears and neck. What if there was someone else?

“I’ve always wanted to get in a hot tub,” he broke the silence, staring at the back of her head as she stilled. She grunted in response after a few moments of silence and lifted the pillow between her legs up to her mouth, tight against her stomach as the alcohol decided to turn against her. “Wanna… get in?” He asked, grasping her hip and squeezing.

“We’ll… drown..” she lied, tightening her grip on the pillow when his touch sent sparks of pleasure down to her clit.

“Nah,” he murmured, sliding his hand beneath her shirt against her warm stomach to turn her onto her back, tight against his body. “Come with me,” he murmured, sliding his hand up higher.

“Fine,” she inhaled sharply, getting up faster than she should have to avoid his touch. Dizziness from the alcohol made her stumble, but she caught herself on the wall, facing the Christian Bale poster on her wall.

“Careful,” he told her, getting up from the bed to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

“Let’s just go cross it off your weird bucket-list.” She made her way to the door, forgetting to unlock it as she tugged it hard.

“You’re drunker than me,” he chuckled, unlocking the door, wrapping his large warm hand over hers to turn the doorknob and open the door. She pursed her tips and unfocused her gaze on the door until he removed his hand from hers.

They quietly made their way down the stairs and she held the wall to balance herself while Dean watched her closely. Making their way blindly through the house to the backyard, Dean laughed softly to himself, which made her shush him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, completely unapologetically, “it’s just that you’re such a good girl,” he began explaining, an undertone of sexualness in his words, “I can’t believe you agreed to this.” He sighed gleefully, opening the glass door to the outside where the hot tub was.

“I… not always,” she argued, noting a few times in which she proposed scandalous ideas to him. He started to unbuckle his belt, his shirt riding up his tummy.

“No, not always,” he agreed quietly, staring straight into her eyes as she stared hungrily at the bit of exposed skin. “But you never want your family to know we have sex,” he told her, shoving his jeans down his legs, revealing the lack of boxers.

Her eyes widened and she looked away, walking past him to fill and turn the tub on. He smirked, pleased with her reaction.

“You were really loud in the basement, though,” he recalled, pulling the shirt over his head and toeing his socks off. “So pornographic,” he added dreamily. Her face heated up and she turned to glare at him. “Hey, sorry, beautiful… Come, take your clothes off.” He laughed, then bit his lip seductively, trying to reel her in with a tilt of his head.

She scoffed at him, but began removing her clothes. He shrugged and dipped his fingers into the tub, testing the waters before stepping inside. She tripped down to her bra and underwear, which he tilted his head at disappointedly with a frown. He held his hand out for her to take and carefully helped her inside.

She scooted far away from him and slid inside so only her chin rested above the water to combat the biting December wind. He rolled his eyes at her, but let her do as she wanted, staring up at the sky which was frosted with stars, the whole gated community dark and asleep.

“How’d you get out?” She broke the awkward silence, looking around the white glazed bricks separating her parent’s home and the neighbours’ homes. The lights inside were shut off, except for the Christmas lights decorating the inside and the outside of their houses. No one was awake to peep.

“Devil's trap not gonna work on something like me,” he told her smugly, playing with the water. She hummed in irritation, looking at him. “Come closer to me,” he requested, making his way halfway to her.

Begrudgingly, she made her way to him, staring curiously at his still handsome face.

“What?” She murmured, tilting her head at him. Dean gently brushed his knuckles down her cold cheek and she moved away slightly, brows furrowing with perplexity.

“You know, to really cross it off my bucket list, we need to have sex,” he reminded her. She considered his words and grimaced, moving away from him. It stung, demon or not, to see the woman who once loved him unconditionally become disgusted by the thought of sex with him.

“No,” she whispered, “we’re drunk.”

“It’s not like we haven’t done it drunk before,” he pressed, splaying his hand over her back and cupping her jaw. She inhaled and became tense, pushing him away.

“You getting separation anxiety?” She asked scathingly, hoping to change the subject. He released her reluctantly and relaxed on his side of the tub.

“From who? Sam?” Dean asked boredly, playing with the water again, his mood sour.

“Crowley.” He glared at her, this time, he pounced on her, holding the back of her head to press his mouth to hers roughly. His tongue forcibly parted her lips, tasting the sweet eggnog and bitter alcohol in her mouth. As bile rose up to her throat, she whimpered and pushed him off. “You ass!” She splashed water into his face and he growled at her, eyes flickering black.

“Why are you being difficult?” He shouted at her, gripping her arms tightly.

“I’m not some meaningless lay,” she spat, reaching up between his arms, burying her fingers into his hair to pull roughly at his longer, honey strands, until he loosened his grip on her arms and hissed.

“I never said you were,” he seethed, wrapping his hand around her throat. She tugged his hair harder and so he immediately let her go, running his fingers down his face tiredly. “Is that what this is about? The women?” He inquired casually, like they meant nothing.

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, shuddering at the cold breeze despite the flush of alcohol and the hot water.

“You heard me,” he whispered threateningly.

“Yes! Okay?” She admitted, then sighed, tears welling up her eyes. She blinked them away and clenched her jaw to keep her breath steady. She turned away, ready to climb out of the tub when Dean grabbed her elbow, moving them both into each other.

He didn’t say anything, but for the first time since he was a demon, his green eyes were cast downward in shame and regret.

“You told me that if you couldn’t have me, no one could,” she reminded him quietly.

“I meant it,” Dean reaffirmed, pulling her closer.

“That just applied to me, then?” He remained quiet, averting his gaze from hers. “What makes you think I’m letting you go now that I have you back?” His eyes snapped back to hers and they darkened.

He leaned down to kiss her again, but this time, she took his face in both of her hands, angling his face to control the kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around her, keeping her tight against his body.

Her soft tongue smoothed over his, teeth scraping, and lips bruising. Possessive and hot, she slid one hand away from his face between his legs where his cock was already erect. She curled her hand around him, pulling a deep groan from him.

He slid his hands up her back, finding the clasp of her drenched cotton bra, darkened red from the water. He quickly rid of it as she pressed and kissed him, her hand tugging his cock slowly.

His blunt nails scraped the silky skin of her shoulders, pulling down the straps until she released him for total removal of it from her body. He walked forward with her until her back was pressed against the heated wall of the tub and pulled away from her mouth to catch his breath.

He panted against her mouth, kissed her deeply once more before trailing open-mouth kisses down her neck and shoulders. His tongue picked up warm droplets that rolled from her velvety skin, his teeth grazed her collarbones and the tendons of her neck, suctioning her pulse and the sensitive parts of her.

“Remember that cat your sister had?” He murmured against her skin, moving her up slightly to attach his lips to her nipple and remove her underwear.

“Um, yeah, Tickle-toe?” She mumbled absent-mindedly, arching her back.

“Yup,” he chuckled, removing her underwear completely, throwing it out of the tub. “Always tried getting into the room when we were having sex? And then when we finally did let him in, he’d just stand there watching, or he’d lick you, or scratch me, like it was trying to be a part,” he retold, grasping both of her thighs. “Yeah, that’s Crowley.”

She laughed softly, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, her nails digging painfully into his skin to the point of breakage. Dean moaned softly, pushing her fully against the wall of the tub, spreading her thighs wide open so they were pressed against the wall.

He nuzzled his face into hers, brushing his lips softly against hers as his cock nudged teasing through her folds and past her clit. With her free hand, she wrapped a hand around his cock and guided him to her entrance.

Dean was gentle at first, slowly pushing in while his teeth sunk into her bottom lip. The pull out and the push in was slow as he felt the drag of the water, the way it slowed him before he began to fuck her earnestly. He released her lip to smash his mouth against hers, matching the painful thrust of his hips against hers.

She clung to his waist, moaning wantonly into his mouth as his cock stretched her walls, the length of it brushing wonderfully against the most sensitive parts of her, driving her crazier and crazier, driving her deeper into pleasure.

“Think I’m gonna fuck someone this good, this raw, with this much passion?” He panted against her mouth as she pulled him closer. She gasped loudly, squeezing his cock so tightly he growled deeply against her. “D’you think I’ll ever feel this love for anyone, for someone who isn’t you?” Her toes curled and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder, moaning his name softly, pulling his body closer to hers.

“Please,” she whispered, chuckling breathlessly as he thrusted roughly and shallowly into her. He tightened his grip on her thighs, bruising her thighs, cutting her soft flesh with his fingernails, moaning with her as his body thrummed with life he hadn’t felt since he became a demon.

She squirmed as she approached her orgasm, her warm walls pulsing around his cock. Her mouth found his once more, their lips moved together messily, violently like their love, until they both fell apart.

He sucked her bottom lip and pulled away breathlessly with a smirk.

“Come with me,” he whispered, unhanding her thighs so she could wrap her legs around him instead. He held her closely, too, folding his arms around her waist.

“Ask me again in the morning,” she murmured, kissing his prickly jaw. “When I’m not drunk. When the afterglow’s gone.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and he nodded in agreement, staying in the tub for a few moments before they untangled each other's limbs.

“Will your answer be different?” He quizzed, holding her chin between his two fingers. She tongue poked out to lick her bottom lip, followed by a thoughtful bit of her lip.

“No.”

Dean dipped down to peck her lips, lingering for a few thuds of his heartbeat before pulling away and kissing the top of her head.

“I’ll stay,” he promised, moving both of them out of the tub into the freezing cold. Dripping in water, they put their clothes back on with much difficulty, laughing quietly. Somewhat drunk still, they cleared out the tub and tried to get dry with Dean’s t-shirt before heading inside to shower and sleep in her childhood bed where they continued to do unspeakable things in the darkness as quietly as they could to not be discovered.

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cheynovak · 2 months

Text

Crush

Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N) & Sam Winchester (platonic)

Warnings: Fluff, Implied smut, body shaming, alcohol, trauma, nothing too extreme,

This story does not follow the SPN timeline.

Side note: English isn’t my first language. Words: 5166

Y/N is a high school crush/friend of Sam, when they were 16 y/o they attended the same school for a while. She was one of the only kids who didn’t made fun of him, they became friends pretty quick. Sam always thought Y/N was a nice, friendly and cute girl, a little bigger than most of the girls in school but cute. Sam spends his entire time hanging out with her, trying to ask her to prom, only one problem, Y/N likes another, older guy, he didn’t know the older guy was Dean.

Now years later the brothers path crosses again with Y/N.

Cursive are memories.

~ Part 2 out now! ~

----------------------------------------------------------

Dean looked at the menu in front of him, waiting for Sam, hoping he had more news over the case they were working on. Vampires, only this time the nest seemed big, they had killed a few they found, but somehow more and more people seemed missing. It looked like every time they took one down another one popped up.

“Dean? Dean Winchester?” The older brother heard his name and looked up, to see the waitress. “Yes... that’s me?” He answered reluctantly. “It’s me... Y/N. A high school friend of Sam.” He took a good look this time. - “Y/N?” Sam had just entered the diner. “It’s been so long! How are you!” He asked her while immediately pulling her in a hug. “I’m great! Too long I know. How are you?”

Dean witnessed the conversation, still not entirely sure who she was. He started to think about all the high schools they attended to. Sure he would have remembered it when Sam had a girl friend... definitely a girl this... hot. Unless he didn’t attend school anymore. And then he remembered.

“Thanks Dean, for driving us!” - “No problem sweetheart.” He winked at Y/N while she got out of the car. “Sam, wait a sec I need to talk to you.” He held his brother back. “Can’t this wait after school? I’m going to ask Y/N to the dance.” “Yeah, about the dance...” he mumbled under his breath. “Hey, Y/N wait up!” Sam rushed out of Dean’s car, he watched his little brother jog to the slightly chubby but cute girl, knowing he won’t be taking her to the dance.

Dean remembered, making him unconsciously interrupt their conversation, without filtering his words first. “Now I remember... Y/N the chubby friend from when you were 17!” - “What the hell Dean! ” Sam hit his shoulder, while he looked apologetic over to Y/N, who seem to be amused by Dean’s bluntness. “Yeah, well that’s what most people remember of me.”

“I’m sorry, you look great! You’ve changed... A lot!” Dean apologised in a yet flirty way, looking her up and down. “And you haven’t changed, have you.” Y/N laughed at his attempt. “Please tell me you’re staying in town a little longer this time?” She turned to Sam. “Eh, a few days at least.” - “Great...” she kept looking at him, “Jeez, almost forgot to take your order.” They talked a little more after they had their food and in between orders.

“Hey if you want, we can stay a little longer after the job is finished.” Dean told his brother. “Maybe you and Y/N over there can catch up some lost time.” - “I don’t know Dean, she seems to have a great life I don’t want her to be involved in ours.” - “Did you ever go out with her?” - “No, she eh, liked someone else.” - “Really who?” - “Don’t know, an older guy, didn’t attend our school.” - “ Oh really? I seem to remember she liked you.�� Dean felt bad for his brother.

“You’re lucky again, Y/N.” Her co-worker said while they were making their orders. “What do you mean?” - “You always get the handsome or cute boys at your tables.” She nodded to Sam and Dean. “Old friend of yours?” - “I went to school with that one...” she pointed at Sam. “And that is his older brother. He, eh was the first guy I ever kissed.” - “Lucky you.” Y/N her mind drifted away to an old memory.

School dance was in two weeks, but Y/N still had no dress. All the dresses she tried on were either, too long, short or small. The popular girls who bullied Y/N for being overweight seemed to notice Y/N struggling in the store and decided to ad a little salt to the wound.

Dean dropped Sam off at the library a few streets away, he had to run an errands for his dad and decided to buy some magazines at the store for himself, the store he needed was across from the store Y/N was in. He noticed her, standing in front of a mirror, she looked good, but he noticed her cheeks were red, she was almost crying. Then he heard the 3 popular girls walk out “Can’t believe little piggy thinks she will find a dress that will look good on her.” - “No way she finds a guy to take her.” Another one added.

Dean felt bad for her since she was the only kid in Sam’s class who was nice to him, he walked in the store, the second she saw the older Winchester enter the store she fled to the fitting room. “Y/N? Are you ok?” He placed his ear next to the door, he could hear her sniff. “Yeah, yeah I'm great thanks.” - “Don’t lie to me sweetheart... Is it those girls?” - “They just make fun of me. Nothing special. I’m used to it.” - “It is if it makes you cry.” She didn’t answer. “Why don’t you show me your dress?” Y/N slowly unlocked the door, looking up with teary eyes, Dean still leaning on the fitting room. “They are right, I look ridiculous, I won’t find a dress that fits me.”

“What are you talking about? You look amazing.” He smiled slightly. “You just say that to make me feel good.” She felt her cheeks glow, afraid to look up. “No, no, no you look stunning in this dress.”, “This one maybe, the others are horrible.” - “Then buy this one.” - “Can’t, too expensive.” Dean’s heart broke. Y/N got back in the dressing room, changed and hung the dress back. “Hey, why don’t we go get some burgers?” Y/N was surprised. “You want to hang out with me?”

Dean never really wanted to hang out with Sam and her, he always felt too cool she thought, he always dated the ‘hot girls’ she knew he was a player from what Sam told her, but him being nice to her made her feel good. “Hey eh, why don’t you go in and order already. I have to buy some things for my dad, I’ll be right with you.” - “Sure... You know what you want?” - “I’ll take what you‘ll have.”

Y/N watched Dean drive off, only to see that the girls from before were at the same diner. Great, she thought. “Keep your head up Y/N, you can do this.” Little did she know Dean went back to the store to buy that dress she liked. He walked into the diner to see the girls standing around Y/N’s table. “ How much do you eat Y/N, no surprise no dress fits you.” - “It’s for not for me, it’s for Dean.” - “Did you really think a boy would want to be seen with you?” - “Yeah, especially Sam’s hot brother.” the 2nd girl added. Dean felt the anger boil inside him.

“There you are sweetheart.” Dean said a little louder than needed, he walked past the three teenage bullies. “Sorry, it was busy at the store.” He took the place beside her, pulled his arm around her, while his other hand holds her cheek. “Let me make it up to you.” Without warning he kissed Y/N’s lips. Leaving the other girls stunned. Then he turned to them “Friends of yours?” - “Not really” she said bold, that kiss and his arm made her confident. Dean waved them goodbye, while keeping his arm around her almost for the entire time.

Y/N her memory faded when she noticed Dean walking up to her. “Can I get the check?” He asked. “Sure” She smiled. “You know, I never got to thank you.” - Dean smiled confused, changing the subject “... hey, we are eh, staying in town a little longer. Why don’t you give us a call on your day off.” he wrote his number on a napkin and shoved it forward. “Well, I don’t know.” Dean still looked confused. “Are you planning on kissing me and then leaving me again, Winchester?” she flirted, leaving Dean startled.

“Ready?” Sam asked dropping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Eh, yeah, I-I'm ready.” By the time Dean got to the Impala he remembered every detail. He had kissed her to shut those mean girls up, he and Y/N stayed at the diner talked, laughed, way longer than he was planning, he just felt bad for her but the longer he talked to her the more he actually cared for her, by the end Dean realised why Sam likes her so much, she was really smart, funny and mature. She made him smile like no one had done in years.

He dropped her off at her house, but not before he kissed her again in the impala, “I, eh heard you have no date to the school dance yet.” He asked nervous. “No, I don’t.” Y/N’s heart was racing and her head spinning, is he really asking her what she thought? “Well, I-If you would like, I have no plans that night...” He looked up at her, she responded by pulling him in for another kiss.

He opened her door for her, pinned her against the car and asked her not to tell Sam yet. “I want to tell him myself.”

“Dean?” - ” Hm?” - “Why so quiet?” Sam asked in the car. “What? Oh nothing, nothing.”

The next day Sam and Dean split up again, Dean wanted to surprise Y/N after work now he fully remembered. But he saw Y/N and Sam walk out of the diner, holding a milkshake, she had her arm wrapped around Sam’s arm. They were laughing, too involved in their conversation to notice Dean at the corner of the street. He could see the two of them being the perfect item since they were so similar, he for some reason even forgot about her. He decided not to drag himself down and went for a drink at the local pub.

“You know, you never told me who the guy was who took you to the dance.” Sam casually asked Y/N while taking a seat at the bench in the park. “Wow, he never told you did he?” Sam looked confused. “Dean... He asked me.” - “Dean... my brother Dean?” - “Yeah... Please don’t tell me you’re going to mad at him? It was ages ago.” - “No, oh no not at all, it just makes sense.” Sam laughs sincere. “Why are you laughing?” - “He acted all weird yesterday morning, after seeing you and I can remember he spend all dad’s money, later he admitted it was on a dress for a girl, didn’t want to tell us who. And before leaving he snuck out.“ - “He brought that dress to our front door, with a note, telling you guys were leaving.”

The night of the school dance Y/N got nervous, she still had no dress but Dean told her not to worry. “Y/N!” - She heard her dad call out to her “Come down here honey.” The second she got the end of the stairs she saw her dad holding a bag, a black clothing cover. “I think this is for you.” He helped her open it. Y/N recognised the dress immediately. A little note dropped out of the bag. “I’m sorry sweetheart, our dad decided to move today. I wished I could see you in this dress, no doubt you will be the most beautiful girl. D.”

“Did you go?” - “Sorry?” - “Did you go?” Sam repeated the question. “No, I didn’t. I wanted but it wouldn’t be the same without my best friend.” She said bumping her shoulder to his arm. “You know, I really felt bad when you said you liked someone else.” He admitted looking shy at her. “But I’m glad it was Dean. He is a nice guy.” - “Ha, not what you said years ago.” - “Yeah, well in my defence he did get all the girls, even the once I liked back then.” He bumped her back. “I think he still likes you.” Sam casually said. “What? Oh, come on Sam. It was years ago, he didn’t even recognise me at the diner yesterday.” - “I’m serious Y/N he acts strange, his I like a girl but I'm afraid to say it, strange, call him.” - “You don’t mind?” She asked afraid of his answer. “No, not at all, to be fair, Jess is still in my heart and mind.”

Sam and Y/N walked back to the diner where she parked her car. “Oh my god... He still drives that impala?” She asked while crossing the street to see the car up close. “Dean’s baby.” - “Great memories.” She said looking inside the car. “Oh please don’t tell me... you two...” Sam looked disgusted. “What?” Then it hit her “Oh god, no Sam! Dean and I, we never did, never...” Sam looked relieved, he looked around “He is probably in that pub over there.” He pointed out. “It’s now or never Y/N.” He smiled like a child who had a secret. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N walked in, a little nervous, if Dean really hasn’t changed, he had found himself a hot girl by now. To her surprise he was sitting alone at the bar, drinking a beer while watching the game on the small tv above the bar.

“Hi stranger.” She smiled while taking the seat next to him. “Mind me sitting here?” Y/N asked when she saw his surprised face. “Yes, I mean no, no please sit.” - “I eh, I saw your car outside thought I’d say hello... Sam and I were at the park, reminiscing about high school. Would have been great if you were there” - “I saw you two when I walked to the diner, didn’t want to interfere your date.” - “Date?! Oh no Sam and I weren’t on a date.” -” Well, I think you two should.” Dean answered looking back at his beer. “Considering your history and both being really similar personalities and all.”

“I’m afraid a little too similar.” Dean looked up. “Don’t get me wrong, Sam still an amazing person... I like him, but I might still like his older brother a bit more.” Y/N was afraid to look directly in Dean’s eyes when she confessed that. “Even when he didn’t take you to the dance like he promised?” - “Even when he didn’t recognise me.” Dean felt his cheeks burn, “You have changed a lot.”

“It’s ok, deep down I knew it wasn’t the same for you like it was for me.” Y/N said without feeling any grudges. “At the beginning maybe, but after that day at the diner, after that first kiss...” Dean felt bold admitting this. “Please don’t tell me that you fell for the chubby girl?” - “I did.” - “You never do.” - “Oh I did, I fell hard, I used my dad’s money to buy you that dress! He was pissed!”

“Sam told me, you didn’t have to get into trouble for me.” - “at least you were the prettiest girl at that dance.” - “I didn’t go.” - “What!” Dean dropped his beer back at the bar. “My date and best friend were abducted by their father, I didn’t want to be alone.” She joked but was serious about the alone part.

After a few beers Y/N and Dean found themselves still at the bar. Laughing, joking and even flirting.

“As much as I don’t want this night to end, I have to go. I have an early shift tomorrow.” They both stepped out realizing it was late, the sun had gone down. “Let me drive you.” - “Don’t you think you had a little too much to drink?” - “Bullshit, I can drive get in.” He said while holding her door. Y/N got in and immediately recognized the same smell as all those years ago.

While driving Dean remembered their last night together.

Dean had asked Y/N to go to the movies with him; to his surprise she accepted. During the movie he couldn’t keep his eyes on the screen. He kept looking over at Y/N wondering how to tell Sam he fell for his best friend, for his crush. He felt guilty but couldn’t keep sneaking around with her. “Sam asked me to the dance Yesterday.” She whispered without looking at him. "What did you say?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat, feeling a little nervous. “That I liked someone else.” He could see her cheeks blushing. While his heart made a jump.

“Oh really?” - “Uhu, he is handsome, a little older, a real prince charming, I didn’t tell all that to Sam, obviously.” - “Well, tell me who is this prince I need to fight?” he joked while playfull attack her, kissing and licking her neck, which made her giggle. His lips found hers, the kiss deepened “Let’s get out of here.”

When they walked out of the theatre, holding hands, he saw his dad outside. He pulled her back hushing her with his hand on her mouth. “He has no idea I’m here.” he whispered in her ear. When he was out of side they ran to the car, and Dean drove them to an open spot next to the football pitch at their school. He pulled her closer to him, immediately kissing her again, seemingly not getting enough of Y/N.

His hand moved under shirt, over her stomach, making her clench up and pulling back.

Dean let go of her “Did I do something wrong?” - “I’m just not really comfortable in my skin.” She admitted shy. “Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart” - “it’s ok, I-I just never. No guy ever touched me like that. Probably because of my... size.” - “Don’t be ridiculous, you look amazing. I don’t get it why no guy ever took a change to be with you before.”

But Dean held back the rest of the night, making her comfortable again. Keeping it to kissing and touching above the clothes. He didn’t want to push her away, thinking she deserved to know not all man are the same.

The drive home was quiet and filled with tension. Seeing Dean driving his car made Y/N feeling warm and safe again. He looked the same but at the same time different, broken. He looked at her, noticed her staring. “Like what you’re seeing sweetheart?” She blushed, looking at her hands that were folded on her lap. “Sorry.” - “Don’t be, I like it, reminds me of the good old days.” he jokes.

“Here we are.” Dean said trying to sound neutral, but his heart beats fast. “Why don’t you come inside for a second, I have something to show you.” Y/N said very enthusiasts. Dean followed her up to her apartment giving himself a peptalk, thinking this may be the moment. “Wait here.” Y/N’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

He looked around, no pictures or signs of a man. “Great!” he mumbled. “What was that?” she asked? Dean flinched “Nothing!” He turned around to see Y/N in the dress he bought for her.

“Wow” Was all he managed to say. “It’s a little big, I know but I kept it.” She said while looking down at herself, not noticing Dean getting closer, “The first boy I ever loved gave it to me.” She looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes. Feeling the air shifting. “I never thanked you for the dress, did I?” Dean’s eyes flicked from her lips back to her eyes. “No, not really.” his lip pulled up in a half smile.

“Hm. In that case.” Y/N’s hands moved over his shoulder, neck, to the back of his head, feeling his hair move between her fingers. Pulling him closer. “Thank you.” she whispered against his lips before closing the space with hers. Dean still tasted the same as she remembered, his full lips felt even better than before. Dean’s hands moved up to hold her ribs, pulling her closer to him but letting go of her lips. “Remind me to buy you more dresses.” she smiled before he finds her lips again.

After a long passioned kiss Y/N spoke again, “I’m going to put on something more, comfy, mind helping me with the zipper?” She asked while turning her back to Dean. Knowing very well what she was doing. Dean moved her hair to one side of her shoulders, kissing the one that was showing, while unzipping her dress, letting it fall on to the floor. His hands roaming over her body, Y/N’s head fell back, letting out a deep breath, while he moved over to that one spot behind her ear.

“Still as beautiful as I remember.” He whispered in her ear while he held on to her hips. Y/N turned around finding his lips again, walking him back to find the couch. Dean sat down slowly, while Y/N took a seat on his lap, straddling him. Dean’s hands holding her hips, his finger brushing over her ass, it was the first time she paid no attention to her own body, she usually was very well aware of the stretchmarks she had from being fuller, but for some reason Dean made her forget all of that.

Their kisses deepen, hips grinding, breaths getting heavier, hands roaming each other's body, hungry for more... Until they were interrupted by the sound of Dean’s phone. Dean searched for his phone, “It’s Sam. He can wait.” Dean said tossing the phone on the other side of the couch, only to pull her back in for more, but his phone rang again. “D-Dean, maybe you need to pick up.” Y/N said between kisses.

Dean sighs picking up the phone, “Sammy?” - “Dean? I found the nest, where are you, I need back up.” - “I eh, I am... I’m on my way.” He said, while looking apologetic to Y/N. - “Brother in need?” she asked still sitting on his lap. “I’m sorry, I really need to go.” He kissed her, holding her face in his hands. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” he said looking deep in her eyes, just to be sure she knew he meant it. She nodded.

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N kissed Dean and closed the door behind him, slightly hating Sam for ruing the moment, but over the moon, feeling the same butterflies as she felt all those years ago. Y/N got ready for bed, Dean promised to have breakfast at the diner tomorrow and to pick her up after her shift, so there was no reason not to get in her pj’s.

But by the time she got to the bathroom she heard a knock on the door. Smiling she yelled “Forgot something, Dean?” Only to open the door seeing no-one. She stepped outside to feel a presents behind her...

Dean pulled over at the motel he and Sam stayed, so he could pick up his brother, before taking down the vamps nest. “Really Sam, fighting a nest in the middle of the night, smooth timing!” - “I thought the fast we take them out the quicker we can move on.” the younger brother looked at his sibling putting the weapons and the machetes in the car. “Unless you have a reason to stay.” Dean gave his brother a dead stare before closing the trunk.

“Did you talk to Y/N yet?” Sam was curious. “Well, since you ask so nicely. We were in the middle of a... conversation, when you called.” he emphasised but keeping his eyes on the road. “That escalated quick.” Sam smirked. “I really think you should give her the benefit of the doubt and think, maybe, just maybe she is your ticket out of this life.” - “And leave you alone? No way.”

“Think about it Dean, we liked living here. This town, the people we were mad at dad for leaving, again.” - “You were always mad at dad, you left for college.” - “Y/N’s idea.” - “Really?” Dean looked over to his brother this time. “Y/N told you to go study law?” - “No, she told me that we were more than our dad wanted us to be. That we could do what we wanted. Bet she didn’t want you to be in dad’s footsteps.”

The rest of the ride the brothers were quiet. Sam’s words lingered in Dean’s head. Maybe there was a way to be with Y/N. He could tell her everything, no there was no way he would let her in to this life.

The Winchesters arrived at the old warehouse where the nest was. When they entered, they immediately saw Y/N tight up to a chair at the back, unconscious. “Good for you to show up, I figured since you two killed my girl, I might just take yours.” One of the vamps spoke. “It’s remarkable how the smell of humas linger on our dead. So easy to track them down. And like today we were very lucky to find us a little surprise.” - “Let her go you son of a bitch!” Dean growled.

Y/N heard Sam’s voice in a distance. “Y/N? Y/N wake up.” She slowly opened her eyes. “S-Sam? What happened. W-where am I?” She looked around, the haze in front of her eyes disappeared, she saw Dean chopping of the head of the last vampire, making her scream. “Hey, hey sweetheart, you’re ok.” He came running towards her. Y/N was too afraid to react, trying to wrap her head around the things that happened. Only moments before she lost consciousness again.

Dean carried Y/N to the car, the vampire drank so much blood she felt too weak even to stand on her legs.

The drive home was filled with awkward silence, Sam kept looking back at her trying to see how she was doing, but Y/N kept looking outside the window, trying to hold back the tears. Dean parked outside the motel they were staying, while Sam tried to help her out of the car. “What are we doing here? I thought you would bring me home?” Dean could hear the fear in her voice.

“Home isn’t safe now sweetheart.” - “And this motel is?” - “It’s just for the night, tomorrow we check out your place and if it’s safe we can take you home.” Sam answered in his sweet voice.

Sam supported her while they walked inside, her eyes roaming the place. “If there is anything we can...” - “I would like to take a bath.” She interrupted Dean, still not giving him a look. Y/N grabbed Sam’s arm again, “Can you give me a hand?” Sam looked over at his brother, hesitated before he answered “Eh, yeah sure.”

Sam filled the tub before helping her with her clothes, in any other situation Y/N would have felt embarrassed but after tonight she didn’t care anymore. Sam held her arm when she stepped in the bath. She could feel the warm water touching her skin, stinging at the small bite marks that covered her body. “Are you going to be ok?” Sam asked before leaving her alone for a minute. “I’m fine Sam, thank you.” Sam left de door slightly open, Dean still stood in the middle of the room, he looked at her while his brother walked toward him, seeing her back all bruised.

Y/N heard the brothers talk, “Why won’t she talk to me Sammy?” She could hear the pain in Dean’s voice. ” One, she just got ambushed by vampires. And two she saw you chop off someone’s head.” Sam took a deep breath. “She is probably traumatised, look at all the bite marks and bruises on her, they drained her, to the point of fainting. Give her some time.” He whispered knowing Dean meant well. “I’m going to get some painkillers and bandages for her.” He padded his brother’s shoulder. “Be right back.”

Dean leaned against the bathroom door. “Y/N?... May I come in?” He waited for an answer, but she didn’t respond. Dean slowly walked in kneeling next to her. He slowly lifted his hand to caress her hair. At first, she flinched but the second she truly felt his soft touch, she couldn’t hold back her tears. Dean shifted on to the side of the tub, her head fell against his thigh. He held her hand and stroke her hair with the other, while he whispered to her over and over reassuring words “Shh, you’re going to be ok, I’m here.”

By the time Sam got back he heard Dean and Y/N talk in the bathroom. As he walked over to take a peek, he saw Y/N in one of Dean’s old shirts while he towel dried her hair, or at least he was trying to. She was asking him questions about what happened, and he answered them honestly. Dean walked Y/N out of the bathroom towards his bed. “You need some sleep, take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” he said while tucking her in. “Are you sure?” her voice was still very shaky. He kissed her head in response.

Later that night Y/N woke up from a bad dream or was it a memory. She looked around the room to find something to recognise, seeing Dean sleeping on the couch he looked so peaceful yet in a very uncomfortable position. “Dean? Dean?” She whispered, by the third time he woke up. “Dean?” He woke up startled rushing over to her. What’s wrong?”

Y/N opened the blankets, gesturing him to lay down next to her, doubtfully he crawled into bed next to her. For a second, they were looking into each other’s eyes. If the circumstanced where different he would have kissed her now. But instead, she pulled herself closer to him, her face was snugged against his shirt, she could hear his steady heartbeat. Dean’s chin touching her hair, he tugged an arm around her pulling her close. She let go of a sigh “I had a bad dream.” She confessed. “I’m here, try to get some sleep.” he kissed her head.

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#fanfic #fluff #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #fanfiction #spn fanart #spnedit #spnfandom #the winchester brothers #john winchester #winchester #x y/n #y/n #x reader

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alluvthegurlz · 16 days

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NEW YEAR’S DAY

❝︎ but i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day ❞︎

pairing | sam winchester x fem!reader

content | fluff, oblivious college students, everyone can see it except them

summary | after a new year’s eve party, sam runs into you cleaning up the mess that was left.

THE STILLNESS after a party had always been your favorite. There was something about it. The dimmed lights, the glitter on the floor after the party had long gone to bed, the disheveled drinks laying about; it was a mess, but somehow it had brought you a sense of comfort.

In the early morning, the sun still peaking over the horizon ready to blanket the town in its warm embrace. Ready to welcome them all to the new year. Perhaps that’s what you had loved about it. Everyone was surely passed out, but you had always stayed up to watch the sun rise. Every year without fail you had seen the gold dance off the disco balls that littered the floor. The reflections lighting up the room in a way you had only seen a few times in your life.

New Year’s Day was a fresh start. A new semester at college, new classes, and one step closer to finally graduating. Everything was changing, and yet it had all still felt the same.

Something about it all was exhilarating, but at the same time, you were terrified. These days it was all a blur. It was best to just hold on to the memories you were making at the moment, because in the long run, the memories would hold on to you.

Polaroids had littered the hardwood. A picture at moment in time that someone didn’t want to forget. That was always your favorite way. Polaroids were timeless, they were a keepsake that you got to keep for yourself.

That when you had noticed the one under a discarded cup. Glitter covering the Polaroid before it had tumbled away when you had picked it up. The sun reflecting off the small fragments at just the right time to make it seem like it was snowing gold. Shaking it carefully, you noticed it was yourself in the picture. You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that giggled its way out when you saw it was you and Sam. He had his arm wrapped around your waist tightly, the drunken state you two were in making it almost impossible to stay stable on your feet. His drink in the air and a smile on his face as he laughed.

You were practically hanging off of him; an arm around his neck as you reached up to kiss his cheek. It was obvious he had to crouch down so you could reach his cheek, even in heels and he was still that much taller than you. Someone had set off a confetti cannon a few seconds before, setting it up for the perfect shot of gold and silver streamers covering the two of you. New Year’s was always a good time.

“Hey.” You turned around at the sound of someone’s voice, a smile growing on your face at the sight of Sam. He was leaning against the doorframe in whatever he had fallen asleep in. An old band t-shirt and a pair of sweats that were a size too big. His voice was groggy. He had just woken up.

“Hi,” you greeted, a smile growing on your face. He had always looked like a little kid in the mornings when he woke up. His hair was always disheveled in the way you knew he had slept well. His clothes were wrinkled and there was always a crinkle at the corner of his eye.

"What are you still doing up?" He asked quietly, already picking up a few empty bottles that were between the two of you.

“Uh,” you sighed, your hand hitting your thigh as you looked around the mess of a room. The Polaroid still resting protectively between your fingers. “Couldn’t sleep. Just cleaning up.”

“That’s not your job, you know?” He joked, a quiet, tired laugh escaping him. You couldn’t help them smile that grew on your face as you turned back to him, he was placing the bottles in the garbage bag you had in your free hand.

“I know,” you shrugged innocently. “I don’t mind. Kinda relaxing, really.”

Sam didn’t say anything as he just pointed down to the photo in your hand. You handed it to him before turning to continue cleaning up the room. The quiet chuckle that left his tired body had you smiling to yourself before looking at him over your shoulder.

“Quite the ladies man,” you joked, remembering the amount of girls he had all over him all night. Sure, that was definitely the alcohol’s fault, but you weren’t shy to admit that he was good looking. Probably one of the better looks guys at school anyway, it made sense why at a New Year’s party everyone would be all over him.

He didn’t answer you, his finger brushing over the picture carefully as the same, content smile rested on his face before he was shoving it in his pocket carefully.

“Me?” He questioned incredulously.

You laughed a short laugh, shaking your head as you placed another bottle in the bag.

“Yes, you.”

“No, definitely not,” he dejected. His head shaking as he started cleaning up the other side of the room. You watched as he picked few bottles up, shoving one between the crook of his elbow while a few he held in his hands. “Trust me, I am not looking for anything right now.”

“Didn’t say you had to be,” you shrugged.

“I know. It’s just…my brother was the one who always got all the attention. Guess it’s just weird that everyone wants to hang out with me and not him. Cause if they were with me, it was mostly out of a favor to him,” Sam said quietly, standing up straighter and made his way towards you as he flipped a strand of hair out of his eye.

“Well, I want to hang out with you. And not because anyone is forcing me, because I like you for you, Sam,” you could see the smile grow on his face slowly. He was trying to hold it back, but you two were practically nose to nose, it was impossible not to.

“Thanks,” he whispered softly.

Your own smile grew as you reached up to brush a fallen strand out of hair out of his face again, reaching up on your toes to kiss his cheek quickly before falling back down to your heels. You squeezed his hand reassuringly after taking the bottles from his hands to place them in the bag.

“Come on,” you turned on your heel, your hands still linked as you pulled him away from the main room. “We gotta finish this before the girls come down and make more of a mess.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #new years day #reputation #supernatural #fluff #samwinchester #sam winchester x female reader

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girls-alias · 4 months

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Christmas Wish - Dean Winchester

Title: Christmas Wish - Dean Winchester Words: 2,959 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Christmas chapter.

I walked with my friend in the mall. We were doing last-minute shopping for Christmas when we stumbled upon the mall fountain. She chuckled bringing my attention to it. It had been decorated for Christmas with a big sign explaining that throwing a coin into the fountain and making a wish would come true on Christmas day. She's superstitious so she pulled two coins from her pocket, a wide smile on her face. I accepted one of the coins reluctantly with a sad smile. I know exactly what I'm going to wish for, it's the same thing I always wish for.

I held the coin tightly, putting my heart and soul into the wish. Mentally begging it to come true. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I wish Dean would find me," I thought to myself before throwing the coin and watching as it sunk to the bottom of the fountain floor. I sighed knowing that this wish was no different from all the other times I had wished. Just like always I knew I was going to be let down. Dean Winchester was the one who got away.

It was a classic case of the right person but the wrong time. Dean and I had been hunting together when Sam was in college, we were somewhat young and irresponsible but we were a team. After 2 years we finally started dating, it was perfect, it was natural and amazing. We only experienced it for a month before his dad disappeared and Dean had to ask Sam for help. We tried long distance for a little while but with both of us constantly hunting and Dean's new mission of finding the yellow-eyed demon, we didn't work out.

We agreed mutually that it was a bad time and it only hurt more knowing we were separate. We both cried, we told stories and all I needed was his arms around me, reassuring me but unfortunately, we had to do it over the phone as we were on opposite sides of the country.

I know I should forget about him and should have fully moved on in the 11 years since I've seen him but no man ever compares to him. He's ruined my views on relationships because I haven't had a single boyfriend as good as Dean. There was a time I stayed adamant to keep my phone number so he could always reach me but when I was fighting a small gang of vampires, my phone and SIM card were destroyed. It ruined me but it had been years since I had heard from him and so I should have let it go by that point.

My best friend woke up early to wave me off as I left. She doesn't know that I hunt monsters, she thinks I'm a pilot so it explains why I'm gone for weeks and sometimes months. It also gives me an excuse to not have a fixed address as I explained I would rather stay in hotels so that I don't have to pay for electricity in a house I won't be in. She's not the smartest person I know so it makes it a little easier lying to her. She'll believe anything.

My friend tried insisting that I stay for Christmas but monsters don't rest, I don't have time. It was the day before Christmas Eve when I left, much to her dismay. We'd already exchanged gifts and she's amazing. She knows I never buy new clothes so any holiday for exchanging gifts she gets me a new wardrobe. It comes in handy as I often get clothes ruined when I'm hunting but sometimes she gets me things I wouldn't be able to fight in.

I stopped in a motel in East Iowa, I had seen suspicious activity on the news which made me think it was a possible shapeshifter. They're a pain in the ass but someone's got to do it. I tried checking in, and getting a room for the night but they explained they were booked full for the next couple of days. Not ideal but I'll just have to live in my car for a little while.

The hunt was tedious, but it was quick as the shifter was sloppy and I killed the shifter in the early hours of Christmas morning. After living in my car, it soon became apparent I had an issue with my car. I had stopped in a diner car park, opening the bonnet to take a look. I soon came to the realisation I either had a leak in the coolant tank or a clogged heater core and so needed replacements. I asked in the diner if there were any mechanics open or somewhere I could get car parts on Christmas day. I was given the address and directions to a salvage yard that never seemed to close.

*********

I pulled up to the salvage yard, finding it was a house on the property. I stopped the car, assessing the house as I wondered if I should leave since they were probably celebrating Christmas and didn't want to disturb the owner. I sighed knowing I couldn't keep sleeping in my cold car. I climbed out of the car and approached the front door. I knocked lightly and checked the time on my watch making sure it wasn't too early to be knocking. The door opened to an older gentleman looking at me a little confused, I smiled politely.

"Hi, I just need some car parts. If it's not a good time, I can just go," I explained but he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, you need a hand?" He asked but I shook my head.

"I'll be okay, I'm just having an issue with either my coolant tank or I have a clogged heating core so I'll just look for replacements," I explained but he nodded with a smile.

"I'll help, it might be easier finding it together," He explained, stepping inside to grab a jacket.

"Oh, you don't have to. I realise it's Christmas and you're probably celebrating with family," I explained but he chuckled.

"Nah, my two boys are out of state, we're not big on Christmas," He explained making me a little sad he was alone and I smiled sadly as I nodded.

"I totally get it, I don't have family so Christmas is just another day to me," I explained as he stepped out, leading me to the scrap cars.

“So you’re doing nothing today?” He asked as he popped the hood of a close by car. I chuckled as I did the same with another car.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the road again.” I shrugged. Happily getting my hands dirty as I checked the car.

“Well, why don’t you stay here? We may be strangers but I’ll cook you a warm meal.” He explained and I was touched by his sentiment.

“Maybe I will. I’m Y/N,” I explained, holding my hand out for him to shake. We didn’t care about the oil on our hands and shook them with a smile.

“Bobby,” he explained.

*******

Bobby and I had found the parts. He helped me install the parts and after letting the car run a while it was perfect. I tried paying Bobby but he refused. His argument was that I was making his Christmas more bearable.

We went inside, Bobby was wondering what to make for Christmas dinner as he hadn't prepared anything special. I walked into his lounge following him as he explained he would have a microwave meal.

"I don't mind having a microwave meal with you, I quite like them and I can always-" I stopped as I looked to the ceiling surprised. Bobby seemed to notice my silence as he turned around to look at me confused before following my line of sight. He seemed stunned silent as if he couldn't think of a lie. "You're a hunter too?" I asked, pointing to the devil trap painted onto the ceiling. He smiled happily.

"Thank God, I had no excuse ready." He chuckled, relaxing as he took a seat at his desk.

"Wait, You're a hunter and your name is Bobby. You don't know Dean Winchester, do you?" I asked it's a long shot but -

"Yeah, I practically raised him. Sam too. They're my boys I mentioned earlier." He explained a little confused before his eyes widened. "Y/N Y/L/N?" He asked. I was shocked he knew of me. Either Dean has talked about me in the past and he had a great memory or he's heard of me from someone else. Weird coincidence though. I nodded softly. His lips curled into a wide grin. "I've been looking for you for years!" He exclaimed excitedly shocking me as he jumped up to grab his phone.

"Looking for me why?" I asked, worry filling me as I wondered if this whole thing might be a trap.

"Sam asked me to track you down so you and Dean can meet again, he's never shut up about you. He thought you died," He explained as he started dialling the phone before freezing. "Do you want to see him?" He asked. I grinned at the news. Dean never stopped talking about me, he was looking for me. Oh my God. This can't be real. What are the odds?

"Yeah, I always wondered what happened to him," I replied playing it cool but inside I was doing cartwheels, dancing, hell, I was even doing back flips. Am I really going to see Dean again after all these years?

Bobby called Sam and explained that he found me and to bring Dean, we would get some food for making Christmas dinner. He excitedly explained he wanted to make it a real Christmas. Sam said it would be a few hours before they could get here, around 7PM but was more than happy to make the trip.

Bobby put me in charge of decorating as I helped him get everything from the attack and he was quick to leave to see what food he could get. I felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement as I remembered the Christmas wish I had made in the fountain, never believing it would actually come true. But here I am, decorating a stranger's house, food soon coming, Dean, the love of my life on his way. I worried about how he might react to seeing me. I worried I wouldn't be the same or maybe he wouldn't but I always knew he was the right person, wrong time but now might be the right time.

*******

Bobby was back after a few hours. Nowhere was open but picked up a menu from a restaurant that was open and happy to deliver. He helped me finish putting up the decorations before he shooed me off to dress nicer. I laughed as I went back to my car, deciding to move it to the back of the house so he wouldn't see it. He hasn't seen this car but I don't want him suspicious someone else is here. It might ruin the surprise. I changed into a nice dress my best friend had got me and mentally thanked her for getting it for me. I figured it would be good somewhere along the way if I had to work undercover but those kinds of jobs hardly ever come up.

*******

Bobby was more excited than me. He had given me a glass of whiskey for liquid luck but he soon tipped the bottom of my glass as I was taking a drink, the car was pulling in and he wanted me out of sight but for me to have finished my drink. He grabbed the glass from me and guided me to the dining room before closing the double doors with a wide smile.

I listened as Bobby greeted them at the door, my stomach doing flips as I heard Dean's voice. I took a deep breath, stabilising myself as I felt like I was dreaming.

"Hey, Bobby. Merry Christmas," Dean commented as he entered the room behind the double doors. I waited anxiously as I knew only the wooden doors were the only things separating us.

"Merry Christmas boys," I heard Bobby add with some shuffling sounds as if they were exchanging hugs. "I've got you some gifts under the tree but Dean, yours is in the dining room," Bobby explained.

"Thanks, Bobby. You didn't have to," Another voice explained happily and I knew it must be Sam. "We've got you a small bag of presents in the car," He added making Bobby chuckle.

"Thank you, I think Dean should get his first and then we can have a drink," Bobby explained, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"We'll drink first," Dean seemed to shrug.

"Drinks after," Bobby insisted. There seemed to be a little silence before I heard footsteps approach the door. I took a deep breath, instantly worried and unsure how to stand. I decided to clasp my hands together and let them fall in front of me. The doors opened.

Standing in all his glory was Dean Winchester. The love of my life, the man I pined over for 11 years. He looked confused but as his eyes found mine he broke into a wide smile. He hurried to me. Engulfing me in a tight hug as he rocked us side to side slightly. I giggled as I hugged him back. My arms wrapped over his shoulders as he squeezed me tightly. I forgot how tall he actually was until he straightened up and lifted me off the floor for a second.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck, his smiling cheeks noticeable against my skin. He pulled away, his hands still on me as he didn't want to be far. "What are you doing here? You're alive, I can't believe you're alive. How did this happen?" He asked excitedly. I chuckled as I admired him. He hasn't changed for the worst, he's even more handsome than I remember, he's more rugged and definitely still the epitome of my type.

"I had car troubles, it was a complete coincidence," I explained as his smile never faded. He pulled me back into a hug making me chuckle. I hugged him back, squealing as he lifted me from the ground again and kept me up. He's still strong. God, if only he knew what he was doing to me. I noticed Bobby and a tall guy smiling as they watched us. "Hi, Sam. It's nice to meet you," I chuckled as Dean's grip didn't waver. He chuckled.

"Nice to meet you too," He added. Dean spun around so I was facing the other way. I heard the doors closing as he took one hand from around me to close the doors. I chuckled a little nervous as to why he wanted to be alone with me but it also made butterflies flutter in my stomach. He held me up with one arm, he didn't struggle and didn't seem to even consider putting me down.

Once the doors were closed, he put me down. His hands cupped my face as he admired my eyes. "I've been waiting for you," He explained, my insides turning to mush. I smiled.

"Me too," I added, he grinned at my words.

"Good," He swooped down, connecting our lips in a passionate kiss. I swooned as his lips graced mine. The kiss I had dreamed of for years. The kiss I had imagined so many times. The kiss no other compared to. He smiled against my lips as my hands move to the back of his neck to hold him close to me. One of his hands moved to my hip, pulling my body against his. I pulled away slowly when I heard Bobby and Sam snickering to themselves probably talking about us. Dean seemed reluctant to pull away.

"We can't just ignore them," I explained but he looked disappointed. I chuckled as I shook my head. "It's Christmas," I added so he playfully rolled his eyes but his smile never left his lips. He pulled me back into a sweet kiss before pulling away again.

"Be my girlfriend again and I'll stop ignoring them," He hinted, his smile turning to a smirk. I blushed at his words knowing I had never wanted anything more in my life. I nodded a little too excitedly. He chuckled as he connected our lips, celebrating the rekindling of our relationship after 11 years. I should have made the wish in the fountain years ago.

*****

It was the best Christmas I ever had. We ordered Chinese food they opened presents, we exchanged hunting stories and acted like a real family. As the night was winding down, Sam took one of the spare rooms while Dean and I took the other. I worried he would want to make up for all the nights we had missed but as soon as we were in the room alone his arms never let go of me. We cuddled all night and it was the best sleep I remember ever having.

We stayed at Bobby's a few days before Sam and Dean had to go back on the road. Dean rode in my car, kissing me when I stopped but holding my thigh the whole time I was driving. He still looks at me the same way he used to, the love in his eyes only seemed to grow as we spent more time together. He had only changed for the better but he was still the same and loving man I had fallen for. He's still perfect for me.

Masterlist

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester fic #christmas #wish

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munsonshire · 28 days

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Sleepless Nights with Sam

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader (gender neutral) Warnings: none Masterlist

Sam Winchester knows the importance of a good night’s sleep, especially on the eve of a hunt.

So when he learns that you have been plagued with many sleepless nights, the hazel-eyed man quickly leaps into action.

Sam spoons you, pulling the blankets up and over your heads, creating a ‘safe zone’ within the bedroom.

He kisses your cheeks, lips, and neck, all while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You talk with him, knowing that he will always give you a shoulder to cry on, make you feel loved, and never judge you or your feelings.…and that in itself, is immensely comforting.

You try to assure Sam that he didn’t need to do any of this, that you would succumb to exhaustion eventually; but he just shakes his head in disagreement.

“It’s okay, to not be okay, [Y/N].” he would tell you, reaching down to twine your fingers together. “…and it’s okay to accept help when you need it. I love you, sweetheart.”

#sam winchester #supernatural #sam supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester headcanons #supernatural headcanon

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imagineteamfreewill · 4 months

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Gentle and Kind

Title: Gentle and Kind

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Christmas, threats, angst, fluff, and mentions of death, wounds, war, violence, and sex (nothing happens)

Summary: Y/N’s kingdom has been at war for a long time, and when King John offers her respite in his castle for Christmas, she eagerly agrees.

A/N: This fulfills trope #21 on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It was honestly going to be a short one shot, but it got away from me and now I think it’s the longest thing I’ve written all year. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy and that you had a safe and happy holiday season!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your muscles ache from weeks of fighting with the knights in your first garrison, and the dried blood in your hair is not likely to come out on its own, but for the first time in a long time, you’re relaxed. The carriage is driving through safe territory—the safest you’ve been in since Crowley invaded your kingdom and declared war on you and your people. There’s no fear of being ambushed here.

When King John sent a messenger to your war camp, you had been surprised. He isn’t known for reaching out, and to send a personal, royal messenger straight into war territory is a dangerous move. Nonetheless, the King of Ashela had invited you for a short respite in his castle, just in time for Christmas. You’d accepted after much consultation with your closest advisor, Sir Robert.

You begin traveling east to Ashela four days before Christmas Eve. Your armies travel west, back to Athos. Newer, freshly trained knights had arrived a few hours before your departure to relieve your weary soldiers and allow them rest of their own, though Sir Robert had carefully selected four of them to travel with you as your personal guard for the journey. They ride horseback outside the carriage, and Sir Robert is in the second carriage with the gifts you’ve brought for the royal family.

Charlie is resting across the carriage from you. She’s abandoned the formal dress that you know King John will expect of her as your lady-in-waiting, but you don’t blame her, nor do you correct her. Wearing trousers is easier nowadays, and you’ve done the same. You’ve gotten into the habit of wearing the traditional captain’s uniform, or even a soldier’s armor, rather than the gowns you used to wear before the war. Even as the horses carry you down the tidy forest road that leads to Ashela, you’ve donned your armor. It's a habit to put it on each morning, and you wanted to display your strength and empathy for your men even as you left them behind on the battlefield.

You let out a restless sigh and shift in your seat, and your armor clanks as you move. You wince when something bumps into a bruise on your back. A small part of you wishes you’d chosen to wear something else, but there’s no point in stopping to take the armor off when you’re already so far into the journey.

“Do you think I’ve made the right choice?” you ask when Charlie looks over at you, no doubt checking if there’s something she can do to ease your discomfort. She’s a good friend, and you’re often grateful that you chose her to be your closest lady-in-waiting. “Do you think that leaving my men during this time is the right thing to do?”

In response, Charlie offers you a tired smile. She’d journeyed overnight to your castle—Eryas Court—then back to the war camp, in order to collect the gifts for John Winchester and his two sons. Even if they were inviting you for respite during a war, you didn’t dare show up empty-handed.

“My lady, you can only do so much. You may be a queen, but you are also just a woman,” she replies.

You sigh again and look out the window at the stars as you mull over the most recent battle plans your captains had shown you before you’d left the camp. The Elciums have been encroaching slowly upon the village that surrounds Eryas Court, but you’ve been able to keep them at bay since winter began. You’ve even managed to take back some of the territory they’d taken over the hot summer months.

The carriage falls back into silence, except for the clatter of the wheels and the constant rhythm of the horses’ hooves against the packed dirt. After a while, you find yourself nodding off with your head against the sturdy carriage wall. You don’t fight it, and you let yourself be lulled to sleep for the remainder of the journey.

Charlie’s hand over yours wakes you. You startle, and she sits back in her seat as the carriage rocks with your movement. Your hand immediately flies to where your sword would be, but you’ve unstrapped it from your side for the journey. Sir Robert had said it wouldn’t be proper for you to show up dressed for battle, so you’d met him halfway. He would keep hold of your sword, at least for the trip to Ashela. Once you arrive, he’s to return it directly to you for safekeeping. It was your father’s sword before it became yours, and you don’t trust many with it.

“It’s okay,” Charlie soothes, and you stare wide-eyed at her, gasping slightly for air. “We’ve arrived in Ashela. You slept all night, and for most of the morning.”

Nodding, you close your eyes. It’s shocking that you weren’t plagued with nightmares. The last time you left the war camp, you struggled to sleep, even in the chambers where you’d spent every night since birth, at least until the Elciums invaded.

Your mouth is dry and you swallow a few times to try and get the sandy feeling to abate. You wish you had some water, or at least something to drink. There’s a knock on the carriage window and you flinch away, sliding toward the center of the bench.

You sense Charlie shifting in her seat. “It’s one of the guards,” she says a moment later. “Are you ready to meet King John?”

You’ve never been to Ashela before, nor have you met John and his sons. They’ve been fine neighbors, however, and you have no complaints. You hear what others say about them—the Winchester sons are strong soldiers and scholars, and King John is exacting in everything he does. They’d be formidable foes, and you’re here to make sure that your kingdoms are allied, if only informally.

You nod again, and you open your eyes as Charlie pushes open the carriage door. You lift your chin as the sun immediately floods in through the opening.

Charlie exits first, and she helps clear a path for your exit. A strong hand is offered and you use it to climb from the carriage. Your legs are stiff from sitting so long, especially after months of fighting, and you have to bite back a groan as your muscles stretch.

“Your Majesty,” a deep voice greets.

The winter sun is practically blinding and it takes you a second to get your wits about you. Tall, lush evergreens stand in clusters around the castle, reaching toward the bright blue sky. They’re interspersed by dark green bushes and several boulders. A forest continues behind the clearing you stand in, and the trees grow so closely that light can’t reach through their branches. The darkness this creates is both intriguing and a bit terrifying.

Snow covers the grounds and all the trees surrounding it, except for a gray stone path that has been cleared for you. King John and his entourage stand on a larger patch of gray stone a few feet away, and you bow politely in his direction. He returns the gesture.

“King John,” you say. “Thank you for your kind invitation.”

“You’re very welcome, Queen Y/N. I expect your journey was a pleasant one?”

“As pleasant as can be expected.”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you as Charlie adjusts the chainmail hood you’ve let fall from your head, revealing the blood caked in your hair and the healing cut that follows your hairline. There’s a sizable bruise on your temple as well, from when an Elcium knight hit you with his shield.

The man to John’s right clears his throat and steps forward with a small bow. “Your Majesty, I’m Prince Dean, head of Ashela’s royal guard. Please allow me to provide you with new armor while we repair yours, and your knights’,” he adds, gesturing to the four men standing near you.

Each man stands with one hand at his side and the other resting on the hilt of his sword, and though they hold their heads high, you recognize the weariness in their stance and in their taut expressions.

“That’s very generous, Prince Dean. Thank you.” You answer with a bow of your own, and he smiles kindly before you turn your eyes to the man on the other side of the king.

He’s tall, taller than any of the men in the King’s entourage and in your guard, and his hair just barely brushes over the collar of his jacket. It’s almost chestnut in the light. When he smiles at you, the urge to smile back is so strong that you can’t fight it. You meet his eyes, and you smile for the first time in a while.

“Prince Samuel, Your Majesty,” he says. He bows, short and sweet. “If you’re ready, I can show you and your lady to your chambers. I’m sure you’re eager to rest.”

You bow back, still smiling. “Thank you, Your Highness.” You nod politely to the King and to Prince Dean, then follow Prince Samuel toward the stone castle at the end of the cleared path. Two of your men travel with you, and Charlie is close behind you to the right, but the other two knights stay with Sir Robert. You realize only as you enter the castle that you’ve left your sword behind.

Samuel leads you through the halls of his home, explaining the history of various paintings and rooms, but you only catch bits and pieces. He walks quickly, and while your armor is protective, it’s made to help you fight on horseback, not take extensive walking tours through beautiful castles.

“Here are your chambers,” Samuel finally says, and you clatter to a stop.

Charlie bumps into you, and she grabs your arm for stability. You catch Samuel’s eyes flickering down to her hands on your arm before he collects himself. Your time on the battlefield has caused your decorum to slip just enough that you know you’re being much too informal for the occasion. Suddenly very conscious of your mistakes, you clear your throat and straighten your posture, fixing him with the most composed, diplomatic look you can muster.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” You allow one of the guards to enter after Samuel opens the door, leaving you feeling a little more exposed. You’ve grown used to being surrounded by people fighting for your kingdom—fighting for you. “Your father was very kind to invite me here. We’ve brought gifts for him, and for you and Prince Dean.” You gesture back the way you’d come. “I’m sure that Sir Robert, my advisor, has already passed them along.”

Samuel dips his head in thanks, smiling. “We’re happy to have you. We’ve been trying to show more diplomacy than in the past.”

You raise an eyebrow. Most kingdoms are not so open about their goals, at least in your experience.

The guard exits and nods his approval of the chambers you’ve been given, and Charlie takes that as a sign to enter and make sure the room is prepared to her standards as well. You don’t move.

“Ashela has always been diplomatic,” you carefully reply. You’re not sure what to make of his disclosure.

“But not always welcoming. I’m trying to change that.”

“You? Not your father?”

Samuel lifts his chin slightly at the question. There’s a hint of pride in his expression, but none in his voice as he answers, “My father has put me in charge of our relationships with neighboring kingdoms. This is one of many steps I’m— we’re taking,” he corrects, “to strengthen those bonds.”

“I see.”

You glance through the open doorway, where Charlie is instructing a chambermaid how warm you like your rooms and how often to tend to the fire. Mentally, you file away the information that Sam has just given you, then turn your focus on more concrete matters.

“I suppose there are festivities I should like to attend?”

He nods, and you can feel his gaze still on your face, even as you watch your friend peek out the windows to see the view from your chambers. “Indeed. There’s a feast tonight, shortly after sundown. I can instruct someone to fetch you.”

“I would like that very much, Prince Samuel,” you say.

You turn back to him, and he takes that as a cue to take your hand and kiss the back of your knuckles, where the skin is rough and scarred from so much fighting. The gesture is simple, but it surprises you nonetheless. Prince Samuel is gentle and chivalrous. It’s been a long time since you’ve been treated that way. Your hand seems to tremble as you pull away, and your breath catches over a lump in your throat.

“Very well. I will see you tonight, Ma’am,” Samuel says. He bows low. It’s a sign of respect he’s not obligated to, and it makes you want to cry. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep over the past few weeks or maybe it’s something else, but to be treated like a queen—not just a captain—is something you didn’t know you’d missed.

“No need for titles,” you find yourself saying, your voice thick with sudden emotion. “You may call me Y/N, if you wish.”

If Sir Robert were here, he’d be interrupting and excusing away your brash actions, but you’re practically alone and the only remaining guard won’t speak up, even if he wanted to. It’s up to Sam to respond, and he only stops and stares at you for a long moment. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait, desperately hoping he won’t be cruel.

“Sam,” he finally replies. He offers you a small smile. “You may call me Sam.”

You nod and smile wide, glossy-eyed as Sam turns and heads further down the hallway, opposite the direction he’d first brought you. Once he’s around the corner, you step into the warmly lit chambers, where Charlie has moved onto the wardrobe of clothes that has been prepared for you. Clearly, they hadn’t expected you to show up with all of your finery, and you’re thankful that they had the forethought to provide something for you.

The other guard exits and closes the door behind him, allowing you privacy as the two knights take their places in the hallway. You stay close to the door, where you can see the whole space.

“The Prince seems very polite,” Charlie says after a few moments. Her back is to you as she sorts through the dresses.

“Very.” You don’t say anything more.

“And handsome, too,” she prods.

“Charlie,” you warn. “I have other, more important matters than a polite and handsome prince.”

She sighs and you can picture her rolling her eyes at you. Finally, she pulls a plain dress in your favorite color from the wardrobe, then turns and holds it up for you.

“This will do for now,” she decides. “But I’ll have to find you something else for the feast.”

You glance at her, not bothering to ask how she already knows about the feast, before turning in a circle to take in the enormous room that has been given to you for your respite. It’s bigger than the counsel tent at the war camp. The bed itself could fit the entire map table, and the size of the fireplace reminds you of the enormous bonfire that the men use to cook their meals. The walls and floor are made of the same tan stone as the rest of the castle, but the stone is so smooth that it reflects the light from the flickering flames. There’s a dark wood door in the corner, which you guess leads to a room for Charlie, if Ashelan castles are built like your own.

Everywhere you look, there are lavish curtains, tapestries, and paintings framed in gold. There’s a mound of pillows to lounge on by the fire, and several dark wood chairs standing behind them in a semicircle. Their carvings are so elaborate that you hesitate to sit in them. The bed is draped with soft, plush fabrics in deep greens, reds, and a creamy white that reminds you of the milk your nursemaid brought for you as a young girl. Evergreen boughs are wound around the posts of the bed, though they’re partially hidden by the fabric curtains that have been fastened against the wood. The whole room has been decorated with more sweet-smelling pine branches, as well as clumps of red berries that glisten in the light from the fire and the candles in the window. It’s amazing to you that the candles are already lit, given that it’s only midday, but Ashela has many customs that you’ve always found strange. For instance, Prince Dean was married several years ago in an arranged marriage. Your father had explained the ancient custom to you, explaining the benefits to each kingdom. You still remember that conversation so clearly, and even though your father has long since passed, his words are forever imprinted in your memory.

“Sometimes doing what’s best for your people isn’t immediately what’s best for you, Y/N, but if you’re lucky enough, the two will align.”

“It’s too much,” you murmur, and you escape back out into the hallway, leaving the door to your chambers wide open as you flee. Your heart is racing again and it feels like the walls are starting to close in around you. The panic is irrational. You know it is, but you can’t stop it as it pushes you forward down the hallway.

The guards give you worried looks, but you ignore them as you hurry around the corner where Sam had disappeared. You walk quickly, following the sound of loud voices until you reach an open-air chamber where Sam and his brother are lounging at a table. Two gold goblets sit in front of them, and a candlelit tree has been placed in the corner of the room. An enormous dark fur blankets the floor. The fireplace here is as big as the one in your guest chambers, if not bigger.

Both men stand as soon as they see you.

“Your Majesty,” Dean greets, and he frowns slightly when he looks at you properly. “Is everything alright?”

You clear your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. “I desire a moment alone,” and then you add, “With Sam.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and glances at his brother, who nods slightly but doesn’t say a word.

“Very well,” Dean says. He picks up his goblet and drinks the last of its contents, tilting his head back to get the last drops. “I’ll be in my study.” He nods politely at you before leaving through a passageway just to the right of the tree.

Sam waits until the sound of his brother’s footsteps has disappeared completely before he speaks up.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“I apologize, but I must ask for new chambers.” Sam’s face twists in confusion and, predictably, he opens his mouth to ask why. You continue before he has the chance. “I have been fighting with my men for many moons, and the rooms you have given me are much too lavish. I’m afraid I simply won’t be comfortable in something so big, as foolish as it sounds.”

Though your words are composed and formal, you wring your hands in front of you, hoping Sam will ignore the way you can’t stop fidgeting. You feel so flighty that it makes you irritated even with yourself.

His expression turns sympathetic. “I see. There must be something I can do to convince you to stay, Y/N. Those chambers have been carefully prepared for you by some of our most trusted servants. If I were to request the change, I’m afraid they might take offense.”

“You care deeply for them,” you say, quieter now. Something about him and the sound of his voice calms you, and the anxiety you’d felt only moments before has started to diminish.

“I do,” he answers. “They work hard, and they deserve to be treated with respect.”

“I agree.” You nod and fall silent, looking down at your hands. Suddenly, you feel very foolish to have searched him out to ask for something so trivial. You’re a queen, after all. You should be used to nicer things than this. You shouldn’t be so overwhelmed by a room so similar to the ones from your childhood.

“It wouldn’t be offensive, however,” Sam begins, and you look up at him, holding your breath, “to only have one Ashelan maid to assist you.”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, as small as you can manage without being completely obvious. “I suppose one would be sufficient. She could help Charlie. Lady Charlie, I mean.”

He smiles. “I’m sure Lady Charlie will grow accustomed to our castle soon enough. She seems very intelligent.”

“Oh?” You can’t help but ask what he means. Charlie is smart, there’s no denying it, but many men have mistaken her for a frail, unassuming creature before. Sam would be one of the first to correctly identify her.

“She has the same look in her eyes as you. You are not one to be underestimated. I’ve heard about the way you fight on the battlefield.”

Before you can respond, there’s a noise in the hallway and you look over your shoulder to see what it is. One of your guards in the entrance. Your stomach sinks, knowing that he’s most likely been sent to retrieve you.

“I should allow you to get settled,” Sam says. He nods politely at the guard before looking back at you. “Though I hope you will tell us about your traditions in Athos at the feast. I am eager to learn more.”

You watch him for a moment, judging if he’s earnest in his request, and then you nod. Offering him a small smile, you follow the guard back to your guest chambers, where Charlie is waiting patiently for you, a warm bath already drawn.

The night is hard. After your bath and a meal brought up by the Ashelan maid, you try to rest before the feast, but the nightmares come quickly this time. You toss and turn, and you wake up screaming. The guards burst into your room as Charlie rushes to you from where she’s been inspecting your armor for what needs the most care and attention.

Once it’s determined that you aren’t in any danger, she convinces the guards to withdraw. She holds you then, letting you cry in her arms as you tremble, remembering the horrors of the dream and the reality that shapes them. You cry yourself to sleep, and you’re certain that you only stay asleep because Charlie decides to stay with you. She tucks you back under the heavy blankets and drags one of the carved chairs over to your bedside. There, she curls up with one hand holding yours and the other propping her head up so she can rest as well. You have minimal nightmares after that, though her presence beside you is reassuring enough that the few times you do wake, you aren’t too afraid to fall back asleep.

You sleep through the feast, much to your dismay. John, Sam, and Dean are waiting for you when you enter the Great Hall to break your fast with them the next morning, however.

“I trust you slept well,” Dean says to you once you’re settled in the seat across from him. Charlie sits beside you, and Sir Robert is on your right, across from Prince Sam. John is at the head of the table. There’s another man across the table, opposite Charlie, and another on her left. You don’t recognize them, but you suspect that they’re friends of Sam and Dean, or that they’re the lords-in-waiting. John doesn’t seem to have an advisor with him, but there’s an empty seat at the far end of the table.

“As well as can be expected,” you reply. Your smile is strained, but you offer it anyway, then move your hands out of the way of the servant who comes to bring you your meal. “I apologize for missing the feast. I so badly wanted to come, but it was best that I stayed in my chambers last night.”

“We understand completely,” John tells you. “We are not strangers to war.”

You nod, and everyone goes back to eating. The Great Hall is silent. It’s a complete change from your meals in your tent at the war camp. Though you always dined with just Charlie and Sir Robert, you’d always been able to hear what was happening outside the tent walls. There’d be shouting and laughter, songs and teasing. Sometimes there was crying and men groaning through their injuries, but you ate those meals quickly.

As you eat, you look around the room. The Great Hall is decorated similarly to your chambers, with evergreen boughs, red berries, and candles that burn even in daylight, but there’s also an enormous tree at the far end of the hall. It’s lit with candles, just like the one you’d seen when you’d searched out Sam the day before. The tree stretches dozens of feet up, and you wonder how old it must be to have grown so tall.

“We do not decorate like this in Athos,” you say, and all three Winchesters look at you in mild surprise. A bit embarrassed by their eyes on you, you falter slightly, but the interest on Sam’s face when you don’t continue spurs you on.

“You use plants here.” You gesture to the tree. “But we decorate with wooden carvings of our ancestors, and woven tapestries that we hang beside every door and window.”

“What are the tapestries?” Sam asks. His father and brother have gone back to eating, even though they still watch and listen, but he’s set down his fork and is now giving you his full attention.

“They’re different for each family. My family has tapestries that show the beginnings of our kingdom and the first king of Athos, and over the years, I have created many simple ones as gifts.”

“I’m sure they were wonderful,” Sam says. He holds your gaze for a moment before he smiles, and you smile back.

There’s a fluttering in your stomach. The clinking of John’s fork on the table makes you look away. There’s heat in your cheeks, much to your chagrin, and you exhale shakily. It’s strange to be so rattled. You’re not even sure why the conversation is affecting you so much. You’ve talked about Athoan traditions countless times before today with countless royals and monarchs. Something about Sam simply shakes you to your core.

John sips from his goblet, then gestures at Sam with the cup before he sets it back on the long table. “Samuel will show you the grounds today. I’m sure he can answer any questions you have about Ashela.”

Somewhat surprised that the King doesn’t plan to meet with you himself, you nod. It’s not atypical for kings to pass you off to one of their advisors, but you don’t mind it in this instance. You’re still weary from battle, and Sam is excellent company.

“Very well,” you reply, dipping your head just a little. You pick up your own goblet to take a sip. The drink is warm, thick, and rich, and you frown a little before peering inside the cup.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks.

You nod and glance over at Lady Charlie. She picks up her own goblet and takes a sip as you set down yours. She pauses for a moment, her cup paused in midair, then smiles.

“Hot chocolate,” she murmurs. “It’s a traditional drink here.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, you whisper, “How do you know that?”

She gives you a sly smile and shakes her head. You know the look—she’ll tell you later.

You sit back in your seat and turn your attention to Dean, who’s still watching you. His father and Sam are both watching you now too, and Sam is frowning with obvious concern.

“Everything is fine,” you reassure them. “I’ve never had hot chocolate before. It’s delicious, John. You have fine cooks here in Ashela.”

He nods in response and stands. You stand as well, as does the rest of the table, and you watch as the King leaves through a door on one side of the Great Hall.

Dean clears his throat. “I have duties to attend to, brother.” He claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Remember that Father said—”

Sam cuts him off. “I remember. Thank you, Dean.”

A moment later, Dean excuses himself, and you watch him leave, too. Sir Robert mumbles some excuse and bows to Sam before leaving as well, no doubt to study policies and look over ledgers in his own guest chambers. He’s always been a bit of a recluse, and there’s little privacy at the war camp. You suspect he’ll spend most of his time hidden away while you’re on respite.

You turn to Charlie. “You should rest,” you quietly tell her. “I know that you did not sleep much last night—”

“I’m fine,” she replies.

Shaking your head, you grab her hands and squeeze. “Please. I’ll feel better, even if you just relax by the fire. I feel awful that I’ve kept you up.”

Charlie nods, though you can tell she’s reluctant to leave you by the way her eyes cut to Sam. He’s pointedly staring at the candlelit evergreen and sipping his hot chocolate, giving you the semblance of privacy even though he’s mere feet away.

You squeeze her hands again and offer her an earnest smile. “I’m okay. I don’t mind being with him,” you say, soft enough that you’re certain Sam can’t hear from across the table. “He’s… nice.”

This makes her smile wide, and you can practically see all the possibilities she’s conjuring up in her head.

“Nice?” Charlie teases.

You playfully scoff and drop her hands, smoothing your skirt. Turning to Sam, you say, “I’m finished eating, if you’re ready to begin.”

Sam hums and sets his goblet down. “Will Lady Charlie be joining us?”

She takes that as her cue to shake her head and curtsy. After years of practice, the action is smooth, despite the fact that she hasn’t worn a formal gown in almost a year. She’d complained in private to you that morning that she wished the two of you could continue wearing trousers, and you’d agreed. The dresses that have been provided for you in Ashela are all too big, and you’d spent part of your morning being poked and prodded by the castle seamstress as she frantically altered the bodice to fit you. They might’ve fit before the war, but the fighting has given you more lean muscle than anything. Your own dresses back at Eryas Court will likely need altering when you finally return home.

“I have other things that require my attention, my Queen,” Charlie says, and she gracefully exits the Great Hall, though not before throwing you a meaningful look before the doors close behind her.

“Shall we?” Sam asks.

You jump, surprised to find that he’s come around to your side of the table and stopped alongside you while you watched your friend depart. He offers his arm and after a very brief moment of hesitation, you take it.

You and Sam traverse the grounds on foot, and he shows you the snow-covered gardens, the stables, the knights’ training field, and the arboretum where his mother is buried. Finally, he leads you to a frozen lake set far back from the castle. It’s surrounded by the same pine trees that seem to be everywhere in Ashela, and there’s a small wooden hut sheltered by the two largest. From inside, Sam pulls out sharpened blades with leather straps. It takes you a moment to realize that they’re for skating on the ice.

“Would you like to skate?” he asks.

“I’ve never been skating before,” you admit, and you look at the lake. It’s smooth and glossy, with few imperfections on its icy surface. You can’t help but wonder if it’s actually safe. Though ice skating has grown popular in Athos since the start of your reign, you’ve never allowed your court to participate. You’ve heard too many tales of the ice breaking under the skater’s weight. A small girl in the village had drowned just last winter.

“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N. You have my word.”

Scanning Sam’s face, you try to determine whether or not you can trust him, not just to lead you around and show you the castle grounds, but with your life.

You place your hand in his after a long moment of deliberation. “You’ll have to show me how.”

He smiles, and it’s almost as bright as the sun on the snow. You let him lead you by the hand to the edge of the lake, where a downed tree has been positioned lengthwise. Sam helps you to sit, and then he very carefully kneels in the fresh, powdery snow to help attach the blades to your boots. The knees of his trousers are soaked with snow when he stands, but he doesn’t seem to care as he sits beside you and attaches the blades to his own boots. He helps you up with both hands, encouraging you as you wobble and sway in his grip.

“Move slowly,” he advises as he steps onto the lake, leading you onto the ice as he skates backwards.

It takes all your effort and concentration to stay upright at first, but with Sam’s encouragement and gentle guidance, you quickly get your bearings. You’re able to skate around the lake on your own after only an hour’s practice.

“You’re a natural!” Sam says as he skates beside you. His pace is surely slower than it would be on his own, and you smile over at him.

“Your assistance was a great help,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head a little. “I have the feeling that you would have been fine on your own.”

You fall into silence as you skate side by side, but a quarter hour later, you carefully stop a few feet away from the fallen tree. Sam stops as well and he holds his hands out to help you just in case something is wrong.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“You’ve been skating for a long time, haven’t you? For several years, at least?”

Though he seems confused by your sudden question, Sam nods. “Since I was a young boy.”

Smiling, you gesture with one hand toward the open expanse of the lake. “Show me what you can do, then. You must be very skilled.”

“I don’t know if “skilled” is the correct term…” He rubs the back of his neck with his dark green mittens, and you chuckle. His nose is pink, as are his ears from where they peek out from his furry hat.

“I’m not your queen, so I can’t command you, but I am your guest. Please show me?” you ask.

He’s smiling again. “Very well. Do you want to sit?” He gestures towards the tree, the other hand already reaching for your elbow.

You shake your head. “I will stand, thank you. Now go!” You shove at him, not enough to put him off-balance, but enough that he laughs and ducks his head before he skates away.

Sam is skilled. It only takes you a minute to figure out that he had been telling the truth—he’d been skating a long, long time. He moves with great ease over the ice, and you marvel at his speed. He flies by you three times before he slows, then stops sharply. A shower of ice flies up into the air before it rains down again. His breath comes out in heavy white puffs of fog and his chest heaves with exertion, but you’re smiling wide, giddy from the show.

You clap for him. “You underestimate yourself! You’re very fast!”

He laughs as he catches his breath. “Dean and I would race as children.” He points toward the far edge of the lake, where there’s a large gap between two trees. “There’s a river there, and we’d race from here to where it meets the forest road.” He pants for a second before looking back at you. “We should return. We’ve been out in the cold for a long time.”

Nodding in agreement, you let Sam lead you off the ice and back to the log, where you clumsily unstrap your skates. He takes them and puts them away while you fix your skirts, hat, and boots. When he returns, you stand and take his arm, and the two of you head back to the castle.

You eat a small meal when you return—mostly bread, cheese, and sausage—and it’s while you’re eating that you ask Sam for a second tour of the castle. He’s more than happy to oblige.

“All of these paintings,” you say as he escorts you down a long, decorated hallway, “They have similar styles, but the others you’ve shown me do not. Who painted these?”

“I did,” Sam replies.

You stop to stare at him. “You did?” You can’t hide your surprise, though you know it’s rude. “You painted them? All of them?” There must be at least two dozen in the hall.

He nods, and his cheeks are a little pink, though the castle is much too warm for it to be from the cold. “Yes, all of them.”

Turning back to the landscape he’d just named, you marvel at it. The colors are vibrant, matching the rest of the castle, and the gold details glimmer in the candlelight. Though the sun is going down outside and there’s little light coming in from the windows, you can still see everything clearly.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to see where I paint them?” he asks.

You look away from the painting to nod. “I would like that very much, yes.”

Sam smiles and offers you his arm again, and he begins to lead you down a narrow hallway that you hadn’t noticed before. You would have labeled it a servant’s passage had the lush carpet not continued down its length. There are wooden doors every few feet, but Sam ignores them and keeps walking.

After several minutes of walking, you come to the end of the hall and the last door, which is slightly higher than the rest. There are two steps leading up to it, but Sam needs neither to step into the room. You opt to take them, and he places a hand over your head so you don’t hit it against the wooden beams that border the opening.

Though the door is smaller than normal, the room is not. The ceiling stretches high up into one of the castle’s towers, and windows let light in even from high above. The wooden floor is swept clean, and an easel is set up near the largest of three windows at eye level. It’s big enough that you could sit in it and let your legs dangle outside of the tower. The window faces the arboretum, and if you squint, you can see the frozen lake in the distance.

A table with paints and brushes is set up beside the easel. Sam approaches it so naturally that you’re sure he must spend a lot of time in this room.

“It reminds me of my study back home,” you quietly say, and Sam looks over at you as he picks up a brush and dips it into one of the pots of pigment.

“Do you like to paint?”

You shake your head with a small smile. “It’s not one of my talents. But I like to look at art. My castle is full of paintings, tapestries, and carvings.” You pause and watch as he adds brushstrokes to the painting on the easel, easily picking up where he’d left off. “You must paint something for my castle before I leave.”

“What would you like?” he asks.

You pause and look around the room as you think. There are several paintings leaning up against the rounded walls, along with piles of supplies that look like they might topple over any second.

“Could you paint the lake? In winter?” you finally request.

The room is quiet for a moment as Sam paints. When he doesn’t reply, you look over at him. He’s staring at the canvas in front of him with his brush in mid-air, but then he turns and meets your eyes, as if he can feel you watching him.

“Why not in summer, when the grass is green and the sunlight makes the water glow? Or in spring, when the wildflowers are blooming? Or in autumn, when the wind blows clouds through the sky?”

He describes the seasons so well that you can picture the paintings in your mind, but you shake your head, not looking away.

“No. I want the lake in winter, so I can remember skating for the first time,” you explain.

He stares at you, and you stare back. Your heart feels like it’s out of control and you have to force yourself to break eye contact. All the while, your thoughts are scattered and though you know in your head that you should be more composed and that you shouldn’t be alone with him in such a remote part of the castle where there are no guards, Sam makes you feel safe.

“We should prepare for dinner,” he finally murmurs, breaking the spell that had fallen over the room.

You glance up at the windows to find that the sun has disappeared from the horizon. Darkness is creeping in, and shadows are stretching across the floor of Sam’s tower. Have you truly been so distracted that the time flew by that quickly?

Nodding in agreement, you step back out into the hallway and make your way down the narrow passage. Once in the main hall, Sam escorts you to your room in silence. Charlie is waiting for you there, and she helps you change into a more formal gown for dinner. She doesn’t utter a single word about the strange expression on your face, nor does she mention the fact that you’ve been without a guard all day.

The dinner is less formal than you were anticipating, and you fall into comfortable conversation with the King. He knew your father before you were born, though the last time they’d met was when you were a young girl. He tells you story after story of their times together, and you’re learning about their last visit when one of the Ashelan guards posted outside the Great Hall bursts in.

“Your Majesty,” he greets, hurriedly bowing to the King. “A messenger has just arrived for Queen Y/N. It’s an urgent matter.”

“Send them in,” John replies. He gestures toward the door and you stand as a haggard soldier in your colors staggers through. He’s supported on one side by another Ashelan guard, and your blood runs cold at the frantic look in your soldier’s eyes.

“Your Majesty.” He starts to bow but loses his balance. He only remains upright thanks to the guard beside him. He’s gasping for air.

“Peace, soldier,” you tell him, though you feel anything but. Your heart is pounding in your chest again and your hand trembles as you place it on the back of your chair. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you. “What news do you bring me?”

“A m— message from King Crowley, Ma’am. He says that if you do not surrender by Christmas, he will take Eryas Court.”

You stare at him for a moment, then scoff. “He cannot so boldly assume I will surrender! Have our armies held the camp?” you ask.

“No, Ma’am,” the soldier replies, and it feels like the floor has fallen out from underneath you. Your stomach twists as the soldier continues, “His men slaughtered our armies, and they have infiltrated the village. They have surrounded Eryas. The men returning to their families are at the keep, and are holding it as best as they are able, but they are tired, Ma’am.”

Lady Charlie gasps beside you, and you lift your chin, silently sending up a prayer. Crowley has caught you off guard, but you can’t show it.

You turn to look at John. “Is there a room I can use to speak with Sir Robert and send word to my captains?”

John nods and stands, directing his attention to the first guard. “Prepare my study for Queen Y/N and Sir Robert. Escort them there once it is ready, and have one of the servants available to fulfill any requests she might have,” he orders.

The guard nods and bows before hurrying back out into the hallway.

“And you,” John continues, looking at the guard supporting your weary soldier. “Take him to see the doctor. Get him a meal and fresh clothes, and prepare him a place to sleep.”

The soldier still has his eyes on you, and you quickly cross to him before the Ashelan guard can take him away. His entire body is covered with blood, sweat, and grime, and he smells like the worst parts of the battlefield. His legs shake when he struggles to stand straighter as you approach.

“You can trust the people here,” you gently tell the man. “Thank you for what you have done. You have brought your people great honor. Now, rest.”

The man salutes you and you bow your head, then watch in silence as the guard leads him out of the Great Hall and towards the servant’s door you’d passed earlier that day on your tour. Once he’s out of sight, you turn and face Sir Robert, who has moved to stand at the end of the table closest to you.

“I apologize for cutting our dinner short, John,” you say. He nods once. “Can I ask that Lady Charlie be escorted back to my chambers once she is finished dining?”

Charlie stands from her seat. “I’m already finished, my Queen, and if it pleases you, I shall stay to assist you.”

You could cry at the loyalty and care from your friend, and you almost do. You catch yourself, however, and you swallow the lump that forms in your throat. John and Dean are talking in hushed tones, but Sam is watching you. His eyes are sad and you have to look away as soon as you notice. You’re barely holding it together as is, and you’re sure that he can tell.

The guard assigned by King John to escort you to his study appears in the doorway, and you quickly follow after him. He leads you down the main hallway and up a set of stairs to a dark wooden door that you’d glimpsed earlier. He opens it in silence, then closes it once you, Sir Robert, and Charlie are inside.

Almost immediately, you brace your hands on the large table in the center of the room and hang your head. A sob escapes you and Charlie places a comforting hand on your back as you let out a few more. The tears run across your cheeks to the bridge of your nose, then drip onto the table beneath you as you cry.

Sir Robert stands in silence until you’re able to compose yourself a few minutes later. He’s watching the flames flicker in the fireplace with his back to you.

“How many men have we lost today?” you ask, dabbing at your face with the handkerchief Charlie has somehow produced.

“ There were 6,000 in the garrison when we left,” he answers. There’s no emotion in his voice and a small part of you feels ashamed for crying, but you push that thought away before it can fester.

“And how many do you think are defending the keep right now?”

Sir Robert turns. His expression is grave and the light and shadows from the fire deepen the wrinkles on his face.

“Less than 5,000, if I had to guess.”

You sigh heavily and look back down at the table, then straighten until you’re standing tall again. You cross the room to stare out the window. From the King’s study, you can see the gardens, which means you’re on the opposite side of the castle from the tower where Sam paints. Silently, you start to pace the length of the large fur covering the floor between two shelves of ancient books. Lady Charlie sits at the table while Sir Robert remains by the fireplace, and both of them watch as you walk back and forth.

Nobody speaks until you stop, but there’s a knock at the door right before you can admit that you have no solution that won’t end in a sorrowful amount of bloodshed. You turn to look as the door opens, revealing King John.

“Y/N,” he greets. “I may have something that will assist you.”

You turn to face him fully. “What is it?”

He walks to an elaborately carved chest on the mantle and carefully removes a rolled parchment. It’s sealed with wax, but there are two seals. Curious, you meet John at the table. Charlie stands to make room for the two of you. It only takes a second for you to recognize the crests imprinted into the seals.

“What is this? Why does this hold my family’s crest?” you question.

“And mine,” he adds. “This decree was created and signed by your father and I during our last visit together. I promised to keep it safe until the right time had come.”

“The right time had come? For what, John? How come I’ve never heard of this?”

He glances at you, then breaks the seals and unrolls the parchment. It’s yellowed with time, but the words are written in black ink and they’re as clear as day.

“Let it be known that on this day, Y/N Y/L/N of Athos and Samuel Winchester of Ashela are betrothed in marriage. Upon agreement from both parties or in time of need, they shall be wed and the marriage shall be consummated within a fortnight,” John reads, and you feel yourself falter. Charlie places a hand on your back to help keep you upright.

“Athos shall be ruled by Y/N as the heir apparent, and any heirs produced by Y/N and Samuel shall become the next heirs. An alliance shall be formed between Athos and Ashela at the time of marriage. This betrothal can only be broken by death or upon act of God.”

At the bottom of the parchment, there are two signatures. Only one is familiar to you, and the world tilts around you for a moment when you see it.

“I beg your pardon,” you say, your mouth suddenly very dry. “But this cannot be true. I would know if I were already betrothed.”

John places the parchment on the table and it rolls up again. “Nonetheless, your father has signed it and stamped it with his royal seal. You are betrothed to my son, and in agreement with the decree, our kingdoms will be allied after your marriage is consummated.”

A dark shadow in the doorway makes you look up. Sam ducks into the room, his eyes immediately scanning the people in the study. When he sees the distress on your face, he frowns, but he answers to his father first.

“You called for me, Father?” he asks.

“I did.”

John picks up the parchment again and hands it to Sam, who unrolls it and reads it over. You watch his eyes scan the words once, twice, then three times before he looks up. He glances at you for a split-second.

“This must be false,” Sam finally says. “I would know if I was betrothed! You would have told me a long time ago!”

“Why do you think I never pressured you to marry, as I did your brother?” John asks.

Sam clearly doesn’t have an answer because he turns his attention to where you’re standing behind his father. “Did you know about this?” he asks.

You shake your head, hands clasped in front of you. “I did not. I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“I can’t believe that you are treating Y/N like this! She is in the middle of trying to save her people and you’re scheming!” Sam accuses. He’s glowering down at his father, even though he’s only a few inches taller.

John scoffs. “Samuel—”

“You say that this was created when we were children? And yet it has remained hidden from us until now? Why wouldn’t my father have told me about my own betrothal?” you ask, relieved that Sam is just as angry and surprised as you. It stings a little that he seems disinterested in marrying you, but you have more important problems than your feelings.

Sir Robert speaks up from where he still stands by the fireplace, and you whirl to face him when he says, “The betrothal is real. I witnessed the decree when it was written.” His expression softens when you meet his eyes, shocked at his revelation. “I had just been appointed as your father’s advisor. It was the first decree I helped him create.”

You can’t help but feel betrayed. “You helped him? All this time, you knew about this, and yet you never said a word?”

He nods, and there seems to be genuine regret in his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Why now?” Sam questions. “Of all the times, Father, why would you tell us now?”

John gestures to the parchment in Sam’s hands. “You’re to marry whenever you agree there’s an opportune time, or if there’s ever a time of great need. If you marry, an alliance will be formed between our kingdoms. I can send our armies to help defeat Elcium and save Y/N’s people. Your people, once the marriage is consummated. Your enemies will become my enemies.”

Torn between a mix of anger and humiliation, you turn your back on the men, taking a few steps away from the table to stare out the window. Has it really come to this? Will you really have to marry to save your people?

There’s a shuffling of papers behind you, and the crackle of the fire, but nobody dares to speak. You know that they’re all waiting for you to make the decision. Though you’ve only known him for a few days, you’re certain that Sam would never force you to marry him and follow through with the decree.

“Would you form an alliance without marriage?” you finally ask, without turning around.

A beat passes, and then John answers, “Think over what I’ve said, Y/N. I will be in the Great Hall, awaiting news.”

He leaves after that, and you hear Sir Robert and Charlie excuse themselves as well, which leaves you alone with Sam. He keeps his distance from you as you continue to stare out the window with your arms wrapped around yourself. Despite the fire, you’re cold all the way down to your bones, and you shiver.

“What are you thinking?” Sam finally asks. His voice is gentle, hesitant even, in the silence of the study.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head. “This isn’t…”

“Did you dream of marrying someday?”

Surprised at the question, you have to stay quiet and mull it over. Then, after a few moments, you nod. “Yes,” you tell him, quieter than before. “Someday. I knew it was probably expected of me too, but then Crowley invaded…”

“And you had to put the needs of your people before your own desires,” Sam guesses.

“It’s my duty as queen.”

Your father’s words return to your head, ringing loud and clear as a bell.

“Sometimes doing what’s best for your people isn’t immediately what’s best for you, Y/N, but if you’re lucky enough, the two will align.”

Turning around, you smooth your skirt and meet Sam’s gaze. “As is marrying you,” you say.

“You’re not going to oppose the decree?” he asks. Sam sounds genuinely surprised, and he steps closer. He’s still in his dinner clothes, though you know he had time to change.

“I don’t have a choice,” you admit. “If I don’t marry you, your father won’t aid my men, and my people will die. My kingdom will be taken and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison or as a servant to Crowley, unless he decides to kill me, which is unlikely. Crowley is a ruthless king, and he tortures for sport.”

Something hardens in Sam’s eyes, and his jaw clenches. “You can stay here indefinitely as my guest. I wouldn’t let him do that to you.”

“And I wouldn’t live in hiding while my people suffer,” you counter. Closing the distance between you, you reach out and grasp Sam’s hands in yours. “I will understand if you choose not to marry me. It is your choice, and I will live with whatever decision is made.”

“Why wouldn’t I marry you?” he asks.

“I don’t wish to force you—”

“You wouldn’t be,” Sam says, cutting you off. “Though I haven’t known you long, Y/N, I find you wonderful company. You’re kind, intelligent, brave, and you care deeply for your people. I could not ask for more in a wife, though I hope we can become friends first.”

You duck your head, caught off guard by his praise. Sam crooks one finger underneath your chin and lifts it until your eyes meet his again.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he murmurs. “Far more so than any woman I’ve ever met.”

“I… Don’t know what to say,” you admit. After months of fighting and living in the war camp, the tenderness in Sam’s voice and his touch is foreign to you.

“Say that you’ll marry me. Say that we’ll save your people before any more harm can be done.”

Silently, you nod. You don’t look away as Sam smiles wide, his eyes full of a joy so complete that it makes your chest ache just from witnessing it. He pulls you close, crushing you against him as he hugs you tightly, and you gasp in surprise.

“I’ll tell my father to make the necessary arrangements,” Sam says as he pulls away. “The sooner we are married, the sooner we can rescue your men.”

You nod again, a bit numb as Sam kisses you on the forehead, narrowly missing the bruise, and hurries out into the hallway. His footsteps are quick and the sound fades before you can even recognize that he’s truly left you alone in the study.

“Y/N?”

Charlie appears in the doorway and you turn to her, trembling hands clasped in front of you.

“Are you well?” she asks. She steps into the room and you can immediately tell that she’d heard the whole conversation between you and Sam. The walls and doors are thick here, but Charlie is an expert at eavesdropping.

“I— I’m getting married,” is all you can reply.

She gives you a knowing look and then carefully guides you to sit in one of the high-backed chairs near the fire. The warmth helps to soothe the shock from finding out your kingdom was most certainly doomed, then from finding out it would be safe once you were married. Your world is changing so quickly that you can hardly keep up.

“He’s a good man,” she tells you.

“I know he is,” you reply, staring at the fire. It makes your eyes water but you can’t look away. If you do, you might cry for real for the second time today. Your emotions have been twisted by so many things and people today that you’re unsure of how to feel.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

You turn your head just enough to show that you’re listening, but you don’t look away from the fire.

“You’ve been through so much, Y/N, and I know you believe that queens should not show their weakness, but you forget that you are also just a woman,” Charlie continues.

This time, you turn to look at her. “But I am not just a woman, Charlie.”

She gives you a gentle smile, then reaches out with one hand to squeeze yours. “When you’re with Prince Samuel, you are.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit, your voice breaking. You clutch her hand with both of yours when she moves to pull away, turning in your seat so you can better face her. “What if he expects me to spend more time being a wife than being a queen? I cannot afford to give up who I am because of a man.”

Charlie considers your question for several long moments before she sighs and collects your hands completely in hers. She holds your gaze as she says, “You are brave for doing this. I cannot tell you what to expect, but I can tell you that I have heard many things from the ladies and the servants here in Ashela. All of them, every single one, has told me that Prince Samuel is as wonderful as he seems. I do not think that you have very much to fear, but I will be by your side no matter what you face.”

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes, and then breathe out. Charlie waits patiently as you try to collect yourself, and her presence is enough reassurance that it doesn’t take you very long.

Finally, you nod and stand.

She does the same, dropping your hands. “Now, I need to get you ready!”

“Ready?” you ask, and Charlie laughs. She guides you out of the study and into the hallway.

“For your wedding! I can’t give you the prettiest dress, but I’ve asked around and we’ve come up with something that I think will work.”

A spark of excitement grows inside of you as she chatters on about her plans for the impromptu wedding. It’s amazing to you that she’s managed to work so quickly, but you don’t question it. Charlie has many ways of doing many things, some of which are better left unsaid.

Soon, you find yourself back in your guest chambers. Charlie helps you into a plain ivory dress, then fixes your hair. You sit quietly as she works, and when a handful of Ashelan maids and ladies start to swarm around you, you simply close your eyes. It’s been a long day, and exhaustion is starting to creep in.

“The Queen needs to rest before the ceremony,” Charlie announces, and you open your eyes just enough to see the women leaving. She starts to blow out the extra candles, until there’s only one remaining beside your bed.

“You only have an hour,” she murmurs as you carefully climb under the covers. She helps you arrange your dress so that it won’t become wrinkled.

Nodding tiredly, you rest your head back against the pillow she props up for you. “Thank you, Charlie. For everything.”

She smooths a hand over your hair and sits in the chair beside you, closing her eyes as well. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that she’s staying close to help you sleep.

The ceremony is simple. You don’t expect much, but John rouses enough servants for there to be an arch of evergreen placed at the end of the Great Hall, and there’s a bouquet of branches and berries for you, as well. Sam dons his royal robes and a thin crown with vibrant gemstones that sparkle in the candlelight from the nearby tree. John and Dean change clothes too, and somehow Charlie finds a new dress just in the nick of time. Only you aren’t wearing something elaborate. It stings a little—you’d once imagined your wedding day as an occasion to remember, but now you could simply melt away into the background and it’s quite possible that nobody would even notice. It gives you a miserable feeling in the pit of your stomach, and when you pass by a mirror on the way to the Great Hall, you have to look away. Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them.

A priest marries you with little grandeur, and in only a few words, you find yourself bound to Sam in marriage. It’s not even dawn on Christmas Eve when he leads you by the arm back out of the Great Hall. Charlie stays behind with Sir Robert to help prepare the carriages for travel while he advises John on where to send his armies, and when you arrive at Sam's chambers, they’re empty. You’re alone with him for the first time as husband and wife.

“We should leave for Athos immediately,” Sam says, and you nod in silence. He lets go of your arm once the door shuts behind you, then hurries into a separate, adjoining room. You set your bouquet down on a nearby table.

Through the curtained archway, you can see a bed similar to the one in your guest chambers, as well as a writing desk and another easel. Sam’s sword is propped up against the wall near the fireplace, and a bow and arrow are laid haphazardly on a nearby dining table. The room is decorated for Christmas, just like the rest of the castle, though the greenery here is minimal. Where you would expect to see much of his personal belongings, there are empty spaces that leave you feeling strangely out of place. His chambers are practically bare except the furniture and the decorations.

Sam goes behind a dressing screen and you look away, heat in your cheeks at the thought of being alone with him while he undresses. It’s not the first time you’ve been alone with a man in a similar state of dress—you’ve lived in a camp full of soldiers, many of whom are careless—but it’s the first time where something could be expected of you.

“Sam?” you call out, staring at the candle on the window ledge nearest to you. Outside, the sun is just barely beginning to rise. Its rays are slowly stretching over the snowy landscape, revealing the hundreds of pine trees and the lake whose frozen surface glitters in the light.

“Yes?” You hear him pause and the room falls silent. When you don’t immediately answer, you hear some quick shuffling, and then he’s coming out from behind the screen and approaching you.

“Y/N?” he asks.

You turn, and Sam is standing before you in plain clothes. There’s no trace of the robes or the crown. The only thing that would give away his royal status is the signet ring on his left pinky. There’s a plain gold ring on the finger beside it, which matches the one he’d given you during the ceremony.

“Your father said our kingdoms would only be allied once our marriage was… consummated,” you say, deciding to use the same language as John, though you know there are easier ways to say what you mean.

“I do not expect anything of you,” Sam gently replies.

“But your father—”

Sam shakes his head. “He does not need to know what’s between you and I.”

You’re holding your breath; you can’t breathe a sigh of relief until you’re absolutely sure Sam will go along with the ruse. “You will lie to your own father? Your king?”

He’s quiet for only a moment before he answers, “He is not my king any longer. I am married to you. I am your husband, and you are my queen. I will tell him whatever I must to ensure that your people are safe.”

You gingerly take his hand and allow yourself to breathe again. “Our people, Sam.” You pause to look up at him, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nods and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “We should leave. I am ready, if you are.”

“Don’t you want your things?” you ask, glancing around his chambers.

Sam lets go of your hand, then walks around his room. He gathers his sword, a book from beside the bed, and a small wooden case from near the easel before he returns to your side. You take the book and the case from him so he can strap the sword around his waist, then hand them back to him.

“The servants have already brought many of my things to the carriage. The rest can be brought another time.”

Nodding, you take Sam’s arm and let him lead you out of his chambers, through the castle, and to the waiting carriages. There are three of them, two of which belong to you, and another that is clearly Ashelan. It rocks as the occupants move around.

John, Dean, and two of your guards are waiting at the open door of the middle carriage when you arrive. As you walk the gray stone path leading away from the castle, you catch a glimpse of Sir Robert as he climbs into the carriage at the front of the line.

“Y/N,” John greets. He nods politely to you, then to Sam. “My men are already on the way to Athos. Sir Robert has been helpful in ensuring they will be of sufficient help to you. I have also sent word to Crowley to inform him of our newly formed alliance. I suppose everything went well after you retired to Sam’s chambers?”

He raises an eyebrow at his son, who nods once. The implications of his words weigh heavily in the winter air, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look nervous or uncomfortable. You cannot give away the lie.

“All is well,” Sam replies. He smiles a little and places a hand over where yours rests on his arm. “She is ready to travel now.”

Dean hugs his brother goodbye, then leads you toward the carriage. He stops a few feet away and holds his hand out to one of your guards, who produces a familiar sword.

“I believe this is yours?” Dean asks.

You smile, relieved that you’re once reunited with your father’s blade. “Yes, thank you.”

Taking the sword, you fasten it around your waist. The weight is comfortable, and it bumps against your thigh as Dean helps you into the carriage.

Meanwhile, Sam talks quietly with John. You’re too anxious to eavesdrop once you’re alone, so you sit back on the seat and try to keep your breathing even as Sam finally climbs into the carriage and the door shuts behind him. He sits opposite you, where Charlie would normally sit. It feels strange to not travel with her by your side, but you remind yourself that she’s in the next carriage, and that you’ll see her again when you arrive in Athos.

Moments later, the horses lurch forward. You sway with the movement, and Sam reaches out to place a steadying hand on your arm. You offer him a small smile before you sit back once more.

The sun rises as you journey to Athos, just like it does every day, and you cling to that normalcy. Even as you wring your hands, your mind whirling with every possible outcome of the coming battle, the sun continues on its path. You find yourself glancing out the window at it more often than usual. The snow outside is beginning to melt and drip from the tree branches as the temperature warms from the light, and as the horses carry you closer to home, the snow starts to disappear entirely, replaced with mud and trampled grass left in the wake of tired soldiers and weary knights.

Suddenly, Sam shifts to sit beside you, and he takes your hand without a word. You stare at him, baffled by his strange actions, but he doesn’t say anything, nor does he look at you. Finally, you look back out the window. His thumb rubs over the dry, scarred skin of your hand, and though it’s foreign to hold hands with a man you barely know, there’s something comforting about his presence. It’s soothing enough that you doze off for a while, grasping at what little rest you’re allowed during the journey. He holds your hand the entire time.

After the half-day ride, the carriages arrive in the village that surrounds Eryas Court. You release Sam’s hand and sit forward on the bench to give yourself a better view through the window.

The houses and shops that you’ve grown up around have been burnt and destroyed, and there’s rubble lining the cobblestone paths. Wooden stalls and stables have been smashed into splinters, and stone buildings have begun to cave in on themselves. Your breath hitches when you see blood staining a wall.

“Where are the people?” you ask, your voice cracking. “Where are my people?” The question is desperate, meant for nobody but the world, and you feel Sam pulling you away from the window a few seconds later.

“Let me go!” you bark at him.

He pulls you back a second time, and you twist in your seat, angry and aching with grief, but you stop when you see him.

Sam’s expression is grave. “We don’t know who’s out there. You are not dressed in your armor, and you are giving Crowley’s archers an easy shot. Until we know what’s happening, you need to stay hidden,” he advises.

You stare at him for a moment, then nod mutely. All the anger drains out of you, because he’s right, and you’re no use to your people if you’re dead.

While leaning back against the wall of the carriage, you can still see enough through the window to tell that the destruction starts to lessen as you near the keep. The pressure in your chest starts to ease when the noise of villagers and soldiers talking reaches you, and you exhale shakily when you hear someone call out,

“Make way! The Queen is here!”

There’s a commotion outside the carriage. Cheering erupts as soon as the first person spies you through the windows. Sam’s hand finds yours again. He squeezes, and you squeeze back even harder, clutching his hand as the carriage moves through the crowd and into the guarded castle.

When the carriage stops, you and Sam wait until the door is opened by guard. They help Sam out first, then you. You don’t know what to expect as you exit, but you’re relieved to find that most of your castle is still intact.

“Eryas Court lives on, Your Majesty,” someone says, and you turn to find Sir Robert walking from his own carriage. Charlie is close behind, and you start to smile.

“Indeed, Sir Robert,” you tell him. “It seems the battle was over before we even arrived.”

After a moment, you laugh and pull him into a hug. It’s improper, but you find tears brimming in your eyes when he murmurs in your ear, reminding you that your father would be proud of how you’d handled the invasion.

“Welcome to Athos, Your Majesty,” Charlie says.

You release Sir Robert and turn to where Sam and Charlie stand off to one side. He gives her a short bow as she dips into a curtsy. An Ashelan man is standing on the other side of Sam. You recognize him as one of the men from your breakfast the day before. There are several Ashelan servants helping yours unload the carriages, as well.

“It’s a beautiful kingdom,” Sam says to you. “How long has Eryas Court been standing?”

“Four generations,” you proudly reply. “Would you like a tour?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but the conversation is put to a halt when the captain of the guard approaches and bows in your direction.

“Your Majesty,” he greets. He does the same for Sam before turning back to you. “I bring word from the fields.”

“How are my men?” you ask. Your expression grows serious as you focus on the matter at hand. Sam stays silent, allowing you to do your job without interference.

“We have lost many, but we have made it through the darkest nights. Elcium has retreated, and they have dropped their banners. They stand with white flags now.”

You raise your eyebrows, unable to keep your expression neutral. “They have surrendered?”

He nods. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s very good news, Captain,” you tell him, smiling. “Tell them that we will negotiate terms after Christmas. I will expect a full report then, but I have other matters to attend to tonight. I will also expect to see your wounded, and I would like a full list of the dead. Please ensure that any news about the Ashelan soldiers is sent to King John, and also reported to King Sam.” You gesture to Sam without looking his way.

Your captain bows to both of you, then heads back the way he had come. Satisfied with the news, you turn back to Sam with a wide smile.

“Let me show you my home.”

Sam smiles back at you, then offers you his arm. Before you leave with him, you instruct Charlie to make sure everything is in order after the maids unpack your and Sam’s belongings in your chambers. She agrees with a smile brighter than you’d seen on her in a long time.

You and Sam walk the castle grounds most of the afternoon, stopping only to have tea. You show him your favorite spots, tell him stories of your childhood, and you show him the study you’d abandoned after inheriting your father’s. The windows there overlook the wildflower fields, and the river beyond. Though there’s no flowers in bloom now, he assures you that the frozen river is subject enough for his paintings.

As the sun begins to set, you and Sam retire to your chambers. They’re smaller than you remember, and it feels cramped as the two of you prepare for sleep. You’d never opted to take on your father’s chambers when he passed, instead choosing to stay in the rooms you’d had your whole life.

Charlie helps you change into a sleeping gown, and behind an opposite dressing screen, you hear Sam and the Ashelan lord—Castiel—talking quietly. When the two of you emerge, you share nervous smiles as Castiel and Charlie leave to go to their own quarters.

“I’m not quite ready to sleep,” you say after the door finally closes behind them. You keep your distance, unsure of how to act now that you’re alone.

Sam nods. “I’ll try to keep to myself, so there’s room when you are ready to retire.”

You glance at the bed, then back at him. “Perhaps I will go to bed early then.”

He frowns a little and searches your face for something, clearly trying to figure out why you’ve changed your plans. Truthfully, you don’t want him to have to try and make himself small. You’re already feeling too many emotions; you don’t want to add guilt into the mix.

You smile as if you don’t know what he’s thinking, then head to the bed and climb under the covers on one side. Charlie has warmed the heavy blankets with irons, and the furs from last year’s hunts still provide you with plenty of warmth.

Sam watches, still standing in place, until finally you let out a sigh.

“I’m perfectly okay sharing a bed with you,” you tell him. “We are husband and wife. If we don’t lie together, it will raise suspicions.”

“And I am prepared to face them.”

“Do you really not want to share a bed with me?” you ask, a little hurt by his resistance.

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head. “I do not want you to be afraid of me, nor of expectation that I might—”

“I am not afraid of you.” You sit up in the bed, suddenly aware of the nighttime chill in your chambers as the blankets fall from your chest. “I have fought in many battles, and I have seen many horrible things. Sharing a bed with a kind, gentle man who is now my husband is not a fear that I possess, Sam Winchester. Even so, I am capable of much more than you may realize, and I am not afraid of anything you could possibly do to me.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then a small smile appears on his face. “Very well.”

You lay back as Sam crosses the room and climbs into bed beside you. Both of you lay on your backs, staring up at the fabric canopy. You want to talk—you feel like you should, anyway—but the events of the past few days start to catch up with you, and you find your thoughts beginning to wander as Sam’s breathing grows slower on the other side of the bed. He falls asleep before you, but not by much.

When you wake, there’s a heavy weight over your waist and hot breath against the back of your neck. Your legs are intertwined with Sam’s and your back is pressed up against his chest. It’s not uncomfortable, but you lie and stare at the wall, trying to figure out how you and Sam have become so entangled. Surely, you would have kicked him during your nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

His question is barely a whisper, but then Sam shifts and you feel him raise himself up on his elbow to look down at you. He’s checking to see if you’re asleep, you realize.

You turn your head to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Yes,” you answer. “I’m awake.”

He sighs softly and lays back down, resuming the close contact from before. You wonder if you should push away. Is it improper to sleep like this if you don’t know each other, even if you’re married? Does it matter?

“Can I ask…” You finally begin, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room again. “When we went to sleep, we were not touching.”

“No,” Sam answers. His breath tickles the hairs at the nape of your neck and you fidget under the covers, but you don’t pull away. “You were dreaming. It was a nightmare.”

“Oh.”

You can imagine why he’s pulled you close now. Without Charlie sitting by your bedside, there had been some anxiety over if you’d sleep through the night, but Sam’s comforting touch seems to have soothed you. For the first time in weeks, you feel well-rested.

“It’s Christmas,” you say after another minute has passed.

Sam yawns and his thumb strokes against your stomach. His voice is drowsy in your ear.

“So it is,” he replies.

“Merry Christmas, Sam.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You turn in his arms until you’re facing him, and you carefully place one hand on his chest. It feels natural to be this close and to lean against him, and Sam watches you with half-mast eyes as you get comfortable. When you do, however, you don’t know what to say. You stare at each other, listening to the castle stir awake. Finally, you lay your head down on him. He helps you get comfortable, and then you close your eyes. You can hear Sam’s heartbeat.

“We’re married,” you murmur.

He hums. “So we are.”

“What do we do now?”

“Celebrate Christmas, I suppose.”

You move your hand, unconsciously fidgeting with the tie on Sam’s sleep shirt. “Can we stay here for a while first?”

Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head and you smile to yourself, even though you know he could probably see.

“Yes, Y/N. We certainly can,” he answers.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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zepskies · 10 months

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Series Masterlist - If You Want It To Be

Pairing: Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s one of my entries for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event! ❄️🩵

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Bickering, fluff, jealousy, angst, friends to lovers, smut.

Part 1: December 23

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Part 3: Christmas Day

Series Complete!

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

Comment below or send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

Want to be tagged on more stuff (like everything Dean)? Here's my Tag List.

@iprobablyshipit91 @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @emily-winchester @hobby27 @ades106

#If You Want It To Be #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #tgwrcjulyevent #dw's witch events #Christmas in July!#Christmas fic #dean winchester smut #friends to lovers #If You Want It To Be Masterlist #sam winchester #Castiel #Jack Kline #TGWRC #supernatural #zepskies writes

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little-diable · 5 months

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The Ghost of Christmas Present - Dean Winchester

Part 2 of my Christmas series! A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for writing the ghost part, I simply love working with you, Vi! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean had pushed the reader away many months ago, thinking she was better off without him, but when a strange dream pushes her back towards him, Dean can't help but fight for their love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), some angst, some mentioned heartbreak, small fake dating part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

headerby @deathofpeaceofmind

Series Masterlist

Snow kept falling from the sky, white flakes that rested on Baby’s windshield. A sigh left Dean, eyes flickering between the falling flakes and his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. Fuck, what was he thinking? She wouldn’t pick up, especially not on Christmas Eve.

It was his own fault, he had pushed her away, he had told her to go, he had picked his selfish ego over (y/n) and her warm, loving heart.

But now he felt awfully alone without her near. Dean had never been one for celebrating Christmas, had never been one for dwelling over old days he couldn’t relive, especially since she had always been right there to distract him. Until the day she no longer was. Dean had watched (y/n) leave with teary eyes, had watched her drive off into the night as Sam’s angry words kept ringing in his ears.

It was his own fault, he had been too scared, he had decided to run away from the love he felt for her, he had picked his loneliness over a life with (y/n) by his side.

For a few moments Dean kept staring at his bright phone screen, wondering if he could give it a try, wondering if she’d perhaps pick up the call, but before he could call her he locked his phone, throwing it onto the backseat. He reached for a bottle of beer, popping open the lid to drown some heavy gulps. Dean didn’t have the right to feel lonely, he had told Sam that he could celebrate it with his current fling, he had told the people caring about him that he didn’t want to be around anybody. But fuck, he hadn’t ever felt this lonely before.

Dean had to cuddle further into his jacket, hiding away from the biting cold as he redirected his gaze to the falling snow, it was his own goddamn fault for being stuck in this mess. He could still hear the angry words he had spoken to her, could still hear the begging words (y/n) had whispered, confessing her love to the man who had stared her down with a stoic gaze.

Fuck, how he had wanted to wrap her in his arms, to repeat the loving three words he had been longing to speak for years, but deep down Dean knew that she deserved better, a man who’d always stay with her, a man to settle down with, not somebody like Dean, definitely not somebody like Dean.

He finished his beer with another sigh, eyes fluttering close as he sank further into the seat, perhaps he could simply sleep this night away, perhaps he could forget about her for at least a few hours. And with one last murmur of (y/n)’s name, Dean gave into sleep’s call of his name.

……

As Dean fell asleep, the world around him shifted. The familiar interior of Baby transformed into a surreal dreamscape. The falling snow outside the windows seemed to dance with an ethereal glow, casting shadows that writhed like ghostly figures in the night.

Suddenly, a hearty laugh echoed through the car. Dean's eyes shot open, a figure, draped in a dark cloak, occupied the passenger seat. The Ghost of Christmas Present, a manifestation that bore both the weight of wisdom and the ephemeral nature of time.

Dean squinted at the figure, his sleepy mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. The ghost turned to him, eyes bright and warm. "Dean Winchester," it spoke, its voice echoing with a resonance that seemed to reach into the depths of Dean's soul.

"What the hell is this?" Dean mumbled, still unsure if he was trapped in some cosmic dream or if the beer had taken a more mystical turn.

The ghost's features shifted, its face taking on a familiar visage — a mix of (y/n)'s warmth and the sternness of his own regrets. "You've let love slip through your fingers, Dean. You pushed it away, denied it, and now you find yourself drowning in the cold solitude you created."

Dean's heart tightened, the weight of his actions settling in his chest like an anchor. "What do you want from me?" he demanded, the lines between defiance and desperation blurring.

The Ghost of Christmas Present gestured to the snowy expanse outside the Impala. Scenes unfolded like phantom memories — (y/n) leaving, the echoes of her love, and the void that now consumed him. "This is the path you've chosen. Loneliness is your companion, and regret your constant shadow."

As the ghost spoke, the snowflakes seemed to whisper tales of missed chances and unspoken confessions. Dean's eyes, haunted by the memories of his own words, betrayed a vulnerability he tried hard to hide.

"Can't change the past," Dean muttered.

The ghost's eyes bore into him with a knowing intensity. "But you can shape the future, Dean Winchester. The present is a gift."

With those words, the dreamlike scene dissolved, and Dean found himself once again in the familiar warmth of Baby. The ghost was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a heavy heart.

As the snow continued to fall outside, Dean stared into the night, contemplating the choices that led him to this point.

……

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice rang in his ears, dripping with annoyance and anger. Dean had to take another step closer, foot stopping her door from falling shut. For a few seconds neither of them spoke, wordlessly conversing with their eyes holding a biting contact, shooting shudders down Dean’s spine.

“Can I come in? Just for a few moments.” He whispered his words, preparing himself for another angry stream of words to leave (y/n). But all she did was stare at him, pondering over her choices before she reached out, tugging him into her home with her hand resting carefully in his bigger one.

“You’ll follow my lead, and if you don’t fuck this up we can speak later.” (Y/n) didn’t give Dean a chance to reply, eyes furrowed in confusion as he was pulled into her living room, taking in unfamiliar faces that looked at him with wide eyes. He barely paid the words (y/n) spoke any attention, explaining to her family that her boyfriend was finally here even after telling her that he was away on a business trip, all he could focus on was the feeling of her warm hand pressed against his. How he had longed for this for the past months, how he had imagined her standing this close, but now the reality felt even better, more loving, even though she was probably full of hatred directed at Dean.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you all, sorry for showing up this late.” With a smile thrown his way, Dean was pulled into a hug by (y/n)’s mother, forcing him to let go of (y/n). His eyes met (y/n)’s once again, even though she wore a smile that clearly managed to fool her family, her eyes told a different story, leaving Dean to grow tense once again. He had dug his grave, and now it was on him to crawl out of it once again.

“Dean, it’s so nice to finally meet you! (Y/n) has told us so much about you, and about all the trips you two took together.” A soft chuckle left Dean as he took the bottle of beer (y/n)’s father reached out for him to take, sharing a smile with the man who was still wearing his jacket, and his snow covered boots, unsure how these next few hours would play out.

……

“I hate you, so fucking much.” Her words were swallowed by the moan leaving her, head falling back against the kitchen cabinet. (Y/n) was sitting on her counter, thighs spread with Dean buried between them, eating her out as if it was his first time ever tasting a woman. With his arms slung around her thighs, Dean kept her pressed against his face, glistening eyes watching her fall apart. “Fuck, I almost forgot how good you are at this.”

"You know, I don't think you hate me that much, otherwise you wouldn't have lied to your family." His chuckles vibrated against her skin, forcing yet another moan out of (y/n). She was close, close to letting go with his name rolling off her tongue, no matter how much she’d try to keep the sound bottled in. Dean Winchester had hurt her, more than anybody had hurt her before that, and yet she couldn’t help but ache for him and for his touch, and yet she couldn't help but cling to the memory of her life with Dean and Sam.

“C’mon let go for me, sweetheart, I want you to cum on my tongue first before I fuck you.” With one hand tugging on his roots and the other pressed back against the cabinet she was resting against, (y/n) came. She choked on Dean’s name, allowing her eyes to flutter close as the overly intense sensation thumped through her.

Dean didn’t give her much time to calm down, pulled down from the counter and flipped around. With her front pressed down on the counter she had been sitting on, (y/n) waited for Dean to free his cock, fumbling with his clothes before he momentarily froze. He wanted to speak out, wanted to groan about not having anything on him, but the breathless “I’m still on the pill” she moaned managed to urge him on.

He pushed into her from behind, carefully, needing to adjust just like she did. For a few seconds neither of them moved, breathing through the almost unfamiliar sensation before he pulled out, only to push back in. Dean fucked her against the counter, fingertips digging into her waist, leaving his marks on her.

Their eyes met in her kitchen window, allowing one another to study their features due to the darkness lingering outside and her bright kitchen light illuminating their features. No words left the two, nothing but moans, groans, and cries, sounds they had been longing to hear ever since they’d parted ways.

“Shit, you’re still so fucking tight, I’ll never get used to this.” Dean’s words left her chuckling, clenching around his cock as the sound clawed through her. It took her a few seconds to reply, struggling to speak as her bundle of nerves started pulsing once again, not expecting Dean to sling his arm around her, circling it.

“Didn’t fuck anybody else since I’ve left.” The words weren’t meant as a confession, as a small glimpse into the life she had lived ever since Dean had pushed her away, and yet Dean couldn’t stop his proud smirk from tugging on his lips. She wanted to call him out on his smirk, wanted to remind him to not let her words go to his head, but she couldn’t, ripped away by her arising second high.

Dean could tell that she was close once again, eyes watching his cock disappearing inside of her with every thrust. He pushed her over the edge within seconds, listening to her sweet sounds as he fucked her through her high, letting go of her before he could follow her down the edge. With a moan leaving Dean, he painted her back white, watching his cum stain her skin.

Both didn’t speak as he reached for a kitchen towel to clean her, still heavily breathing as they redressed. He watched her intently, green eyes following her every move, wondering if she’d lure him into a conversation or if she’d wordlessly throw him out. (Y/n) reached for two cups as she poured both a cup of coffee, leading Dean back into the living room.

“You wanted to speak to me, so speak.” The sound of Dean clearing his throat echoed through her home, slowly sinking down on the couch next to (y/n). His mind was racing, still torn between the orgasm he had just chased, and the love he still felt for her.

“I know there’s nothing I can say to take away the pain I pushed through you. I know I don’t deserve your trust or another chance, I know I fucked up.” A hum left (y/n), wordlessly agreeing with the words rolling off his tongue. “But you know better than anybody else that I’m selfish, egoistical. I thought I was helping you with pushing you away, I really did. But maybe I was wrong. I can’t do this without you, (y/n), I just can’t.”

“So, let me get this right. You pushed me away because you were caught up in some self-pity? You broke my heart because you thought you were helping me, saving me? You’re even more dense than I thought Dean Winchester. I always want you, only you. I took it all, the sleepless nights, the hunts, because for me there is only you.”

Dean cupped her cheek before (y/n) could pull away, pressing a soft kiss against her lips with a sigh leaving him. He couldn't let her go, not now, not ever, perhaps he’ll eventually pay the price, but the dream he had been caught in had proven to Dean that she was the one, the one he couldn’t part from.

“It’ll take me a while to forgive you, Dean. But I’m willing to give you another chance, for the sake of Christmas.”

#Dean Winchester smut #little-diable christmas23 #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

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imaginesforfandom · 4 months

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Heavenly Christmas

another present for you? 👀

Castiel Novak x Reader

No Pronouns used!!

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

Heavenly Christmas

It was Christmas Eve, and the bunker was adorned with twinkling lights and the scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air. You were busy decorating the Christmas tree with Sam and Dean, the festive atmosphere filling your heart with warmth.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of fluttering wings echoed through the room, and there stood Castiel, his trench coat slightly dusted with snow. He looked at the tree with curiosity, his blue eyes reflecting the lights.

"What is the purpose of this tree?" Castiel asked, his voice as serious as ever.

You chuckled, handing him a string of lights. "It's a Christmas tree, Cas. It's a tradition. People decorate it to celebrate the holiday season."

Castiel examined the lights in his hands, then glanced at you. "I am not familiar with Christmas traditions. How does one properly celebrate?"

Sam grinned. "Well, we exchange gifts, have a big feast, and spend time with loved ones. And tomorrow, we'll open presents under the tree."

Castiel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I would like to participate in this celebration."

As the night progressed, the four of you decorated the tree together, sharing stories and laughter. Castiel listened intently, absorbing the concept of Christmas with genuine interest.

Later, you all gathered around the fireplace, enjoying the warmth it provided. Castiel sat next to you, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames.

"Hey, Cas," you said, handing him a beautifully wrapped box. "Merry Christmas."

Castiel took the gift, examining it carefully. With a nod, he began to unwrap it, revealing a cozy scarf.

"I noticed you don't get cold, but I thought it might be a nice addition to your wardrobe," you explained.

Castiel smiled, a rare expression that lit up the room. "Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate the sentiment."

The evening continued with laughter, music, and shared moments that made it a truly magical Christmas. As the clock struck midnight, you found yourself under the mistletoe with Castiel.

He looked at the plant curiously, then back at you. "What is the significance of this?"

"It's a tradition," you replied, smiling. "If two people stand under the mistletoe, they have to kiss."

Castiel nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was a soft, sweet moment that seemed to pause time, creating a memory you would cherish for Christmases to come.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and love, you couldn't help but feel that this Christmas was truly heavenly.

And so, in the warmth of the bunker, with snow falling gently outside, you celebrated a Christmas that would forever be etched in your heart, filled with love, laughter, and the unexpected joy of sharing traditions with an angel named Castiel.

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

i swear if anyone hurts this angel, everyone near me will be dead

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daughterofcain-67 · 6 months

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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱7)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dean has now become a demon and he’s convinced you to travel with Crowley and himself. Afterwards, you and Crowley notice the changes Dean is going through and Crowley convinces you to try and persuade Dean to try and be a little less cocky with his killing sprees and tone things down a bit. How far are you willing to go with Dean and his downward spiral into his newfound demonic nature?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied smut, no graphic detail, intimate negotiations, Dean and the reader killing a demon… I think that’s it? This chapter’s a little shorter than the last couple of chapters.

You were back in Cincinnati where this story began for you. Your clients at your little tattoo shop wondered where you had been all this time and you simply said you needed a short hiatus. Of course you couldn’t tell them the truth with this sort of thing. How could you? What kind of a normal human in their right mind would believe you when you say you had been helping two monster hunters in an angelic war?

Yet you were still replaying the events of two days ago in your head.

Dean Winchester’s death affected you more than you thought that it would. It was ridiculous, honestly, especially since you were still hurt by the idea of the Winchesters using you and tossing you aside so easily one day like they did to Crowley. You hated that you were even feeling the way that you did.

In order to distract yourself from your thoughts of your previous adventure, you went right back to work. You were drowning yourself in client’s designs and other tattoos or piercings. Your work was enough to keep you occupied at least for the time being.

You were sitting in your chair while you were working on a tattoo on someone’s back. The lady in front of her had asked for different colored dragons along with different jewels of the birth months for the loved ones that had passed on. You were focusing on the delicate details as much as you could while you listened to the music in your building.

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?” Your client asked, causing you to hum and thus giving her a signal to ask.

“How come you never really talk about yourself with your clients? Like obviously there’s more to you than meets the eye. But what is your family like? Do you have any loved ones that live here? Do you have a boyfriend or some sort of significant other?”

You were a little shocked by the client’s inquiry but you supposed it gives you something to talk about to kill some time, “I don’t really talk much about family because we aren��t exactly close… My mom died several years ago but we both hated each other and I never met my father.”

“Wow… that really stinks to hear. I’m sorry. What about siblings or even lovers?”

“Neither one. I don’t have brothers or sisters and… I guess over the years no one’s caught my interest. Never wanted to look because I hear too much about people’s heart breaking over something going wrong.” You admitted.

Then you recalled the way you felt when Dean betrayed Crowley. After that your mind went to Dean’s death and Sam’s reaction. You remembered realizing just how strong humans are, and in a way you admired them. But still, you didn’t need that type of attachment, nor the sentiment.

“I’ve seen what love does to people… and I’ve seen what happens when someone you love dies. It’s not worth the attachment.”

Your answer, though seemingly logical to you, was almost unsatisfactory for the lady in front of you.

“Well that’s a pessimistic point of view, isn’t it? Sure people’s hearts break but after those heart breaks there are lessons learned. Those lessons make you stronger. It’s better to love eve with the risk of getting hurt or losing someone. Feelings aren’t a thing to be fearful of. They’re what make you human, they make you appreciate life no matter the ups and downs.”

You stopped what you were doing and listened to each word your client said. You hadn’t expected to hear some sort of lecture on emotion on someone who’s supposed to act as a canvas.

When you were finally done with the client’s tattoo, she paid you and walked out of the door. The next thing you knew it was closing time and you were still thinking about the conversation with her. Maybe she was right… Maybe caring wasn’t so bad. The Winchesters taught you a lot about humanity and you could see why even Castiel appreciated life.

The adventure you were on is in your past, though. The Winchester brothers surely wouldn’t come looking for a demon. Even if they did, you weren’t sure you’d go with them.

But the moments where Dean actually smiled at you, gave you that sense of peace, making you forget about the eternal pain of what you were cursed with.. those moments stuck with you even if they were only a handful of moments.

Then you remembered the vision with your mother. What if you were becoming weak after all? You were learning to appreciate everything and yet those murderous urges were still there. You couldn’t help that. But what would happen if you chose to be human after all? Was an option like that even possible for you? And would you go to the bunker?

You shook those ideas from your head. That had to be the stupidest idea you’d ever come up with… being human to be with the Winchesters again. Even if you decided to be human, they would never take you.

While you were cleaning up your shop, you heard the door open. You must’ve forgotten to lock the door, so when you turned to see who was entering your shop you were shocked to see who was there.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

The next thing you knew, Dean had his hand on your hip and he pulled you closer, taking you by surprise. Was Dean always some kind of ladies man - or acted like it? That was something Sam hadn’t told you about when you met the boys. But that was when you realized there was something off about him.

“You’ve changed….”

Then you watched him begin to smirk before you saw the way his eyes turned black, realizing that the mark finally changed him to what it wanted him to be. “You like the new me? I think it’s starting to grow on me a bit.”

He certainly had changed, He wasn’t the same Dean that you had been thinking of earlier that day when your client was giving you that pep talk. You knew the mark wouldn’t let Dean die, you knew that inevitably he would become a demon, but you didn’t know that it would happen this fast.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I told you not to look for me, remember? Just because you’re a demon doesn’t mean I wanted to see you again.” You said, pulling away and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you.” Dean said, then he pulled out The First Blade.

“Where did you get that? I left it behind after your fight…”

“Crowley retrieved it and brought it back to me.” He spoke, “Now, about that proposition…”

“I’m listening?”

“Come with me. I left Sam at the bunker and told him not to look for me. He’d hold me back from all the fun stuff we could do. We could live care free, no regrets and nothing to hold us back from doing whatever we want to do.” He said as he took your hand and he handed you the blade.

Once you felt the blade again you remembered how good it felt to stab Metatron even if he hadn’t died. All of those things Sam and Dean taught you were nice and all, but you remembered the warning from your mother. When you were learning about humanity, maybe you were forgetting what you were meant to be. Now that Dean was a demon too, what would be so wrong with killing together?

You were conflicted, did you want to hold on to the lessons you’ve learned from the Winchesters or throw all of it away and forget about it?

You looked down at the blade and you could feel Dean’s gaze on you as if waiting for an answer, “How do I know you won’t just use me like you did Crowley when you were human?”

“Is that what’s holding you back? Please, that was just something I had to say to get Sam off my back to let me use the blade. Do you really think it matters how it’s done?” He asked you and you sighed for a moment before looking up at the taller demon again.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Three months have gone by since Dean found you in your tattoo parlor. Obviously you had to shut down since you wouldn’t be there and you didn’t have an apprentice or anything to take over.

Needless to say, you had succumbed to your demonic nature and embraced your past but only to a certain extent. You killed but you didn’t feel quite as ruthless as you thought you would feel. It was a mixture really. It was like you were on an emotional fence ever since you left with the other two demons.

You both, much to your dismay and irritation, were traipsing around with Crowley. The King of Hell seemed to like calling your little group the Three Musketeers from Hell. It had a nice ring to it even if you did hate the man’s guts.

The three of you had been dodging and even killing Abaddon’s demons when they came after Crowley and Dean. If not that, you three were in bars, you would watch the other two demons play pool with humans for money, goose ball, they had the time of their lives and you could tell Crowley was having a ball having a Winchester by his side.

You were watching Dean in one of the many bars you two had gone to over the span of these few months. He was singing karaoke and you were finding out with a quickness that Dean wasn’t very good at it when he was drunk. If he wasn’t singing to make a human’s ears bleed, you he typically slept with as many girls as he wanted to.

He clearly wasn’t joking when he said he wouldn’t be held back.

Typically, however, whenever Dean was done slumming it with some slutty blonde in a skin tight dress you would take the opportunity to get your fill of the first blade. Naturally Dean wouldn’t know too much about your own fun you had with the humans. You knew he wouldn’t care if you killed them or not, he just didn’t really have enough interest to ask so you had some fun of your own.

And it was delightfully therapeutic to take out your frustrations of your internal struggles on these humans.

“What’s got you all lost in thought, Chipmunk?” Crowley asked you, causing you to turn towards him.

“When did you get- oh why do I even ask?” You rolled your eyes and watched as Dean was being escorted off the stage and he made his way back to the bar.

“Wait - since when do you call me Chipmunk?”

“Eh, it was similar enough to the squirrel. You’re close enough to Dean. Might as well give it a shot.”

“Okay well I’ll cut out your tongue if you call me that again.” You said, causing Crowley to put his hands up in defense.

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” He said, “Just wanted to talk about these recent developments with Dean.”

You lifted a brow as you took a sip of some beer that you’d been drinking that night while the other demon spoke, “You aren’t the only one that thinks he’s taking things a bit far with his carelessness. We need to find a way to harness it.”

“We? Oh no, you were the one that got him into this mess in the first place. So you get to be the one that finds a way to harness it.”

“You know he won’t listen to reason. The only one he’d listen to is most likely you. Especially since you two have some kind of chemistry. Maybe if he doesn’t score with one of the locals tonight, you could use your… feminine charms.”

“What makes you think that I’d even be willing to use those certain charms you’re suggesting?” You asked and Crowley motioned to Dean who was already starting to get himself into trouble with security. He was already getting into a fight and they had to call more than one security guard to assist.

“Because he seems to respond more with action than words.” He answered.

“And what exactly are you wanting me to tell him or persuade him to do?”

“Tell him he’d get a lot more satisfaction working with me instead of slumming it in these bars. I’ll give you both more details if he’s willing to comply.” He continued as he buttoned up his jacket, preparing to leave.

“I know you’ve been putting on more of an act to pretend you’re, what the Winchesters say, full metal demon. But I know you’ve changed ever since your first encounter with the Winchesters. You may be one hell of a murderer but you’re a lousy liar. You’re more like your father than your mother.” He said and he looked down at you.

“Don’t take that as weakness. Your father, even though he is the Father of Murder and the king of his trade, he still cared and he even got married because he loved. Feelings, because you know what they are like, can be used to manipulate others. How do you think demons have been able to manipulate the Winchesters over all these years? It’s through the love they have for their brothers and adopted family members.”

You listened carefully, taking each word and you recalled the conversation with the last client you ever had before Dean came to your shop. You had learned a lot from the boys, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to learn about what more of those feelings are like.

“Is it wrong to worry about Dean?” You asked and both of you watched the former hunter walking out of the bar.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s wrong. I even worry about him from time to time. Especially since he’s no longer the Squirrel I know. He’s more brazen, reckless, and he makes a hell of a mess for me to try and clean up.” He said and you let out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, rookie demons are always so messy aren’t they?”

“That’s why I’m.. sharpening him up so to speak. So he can work on those skills of his before he gets himself killed, or turn into a full demon. He’s only half at the moment.” He said and you looked at him.

“Wait… Abaddon’s demons… you sent them?”

“Lower your voice, will you? I haven’t broken the news yet but I will eventually. It’s a means for our professional future you know.”

“Professional future?”

“Of course! I have a kingdom to run, you know. I can’t go partying around here forever. And having Dean by my side may prove to be beneficial. And the offer is extended to you as well, given you’d like the job offer.”

You scoffed for a moment, “You both just have a thing for double crossing each other, don’t you?”

“Hey, it’s sort of in my job description. You can’t expect me to be on the straight and narrow all the time.”

You chose not to respond, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know exactly what his plans were for this ‘professional future’ he was talking about. You didn’t really feel like asking about it either, not at the moment but you knew you had to keep this a secret from Dean, otherwise who knew how he would take it.

You and Crowley walked out of the bar to keep an eye on Dean. You started to wonder about something, “You used to be doped up on human blood, right?”

“Yes, although it clearly wasn’t my finest hour. Regrettably I think it was the lowest point of my long lasted lifetime.”

“I heard about that. Abaddon almost got the best of you then, huh?” You saw the discomfort on his face when he remembered that time but you continued anyway, “Could… could you tell me about what that was like? How much did it change you?”

“Why are you asking?”

“It’s just… I had this vision. My mother was in it and there was a human version of myself. I traded my life to save Dean’s or at least attempt to. And in the vision, my mother said that caring for anyone, especially a Winchester, would be the equivalent to some kind of torture.” You began.

“But ever since I saw the way Sam mourned for Dean when he initially died, I realized that humans… they have to be strong to deal with something like death, right? I mean, given that they aren’t hunters and constantly raise people from the dead on a regular basis.” Crowley looked at you with interest and he hummed a little.

“Well, I can admire some humans for their strength. As for what changes you can feel, well… You definitely start feeling those uncomfortable emotions like regret, maybe even worry, etc. Then there are other emotions that aren’t so bad. I’ll let you discover those on your own.” He told you.

“Now, I’ll leave you to it. Remember, we want to get Dean to harness his recklessness. Try to convince him somehow if you won’t stand in for one of the hookers he goes to the hotel with.”

The next thing you knew, he disappeared and you sighed. You honestly hated when he did that but oh well. You walked out of the bar and Dean pulled up with the Impala.

“Come on, let’s get out of this dump town already.” Dean said in his usual grumpy little grumble he had when he didn’t get his way.

“I swear, you’re just like a child. Maybe you shouldn’t even drive.”

“I can drive just fine. I can hold my liquor better than all those people in that bar.”

You just roll your eyes and got into the vehicle and stayed quiet while he drove off. Maybe Crowley was right too, maybe it wasn’t wrong to worry. You even wondered if you should call Sam.

Several hours went by and you were in Montana now from whatever state you were at before. It was still dark out since it was the early hours of the morning but you were able to make it into the hotel. You both shared a room but you groaned a little when you realized you were stuck with one bed instead of two like normal, but you tossed your little backpack and wallet to the side.

You heard a plop on the mattress followed by Dean’s groan. You supposed being in a car for so long was a bit draining even for him.

“It’s a shame there aren’t any bars open right now.” Dean said.

“There aren’t many people in the world that want to be drinking at three in the morning you know.” You said as you sat down on the bed next to him.

You could feel more movement on the mattress and you felt Dean’s presence next to you, “Yeah I guess that’s true. Everyone else is either sleeping off the booze or having their own fun.”

You felt his arm snake around your waist, causing your insides to churn. Surely the human Dean didn’t want to become something like this. Something wasn’t right but you remembered what Crowley asked you to do.

“Speaking of having our own fun…” You began as you shifted on the bed to face him better. He lifted a brow as he looked at you, “You’re being a little reckless, aren’t you?”

“Reckless, huh? How’s that?”

“Well, you’re just a little new at this demon thing and I was just thinking that maybe Crowley and I could show you how to make things… a little more clean.” You said.

“Awe, Sweetheart, you know being neat doesn’t matter that much, and it doesn’t matter how reckless I am. Did that bastard Crowley put you up to this?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek as you tried to think. Maybe Crowley was right yet again, and you were starting to hate how he seemed to be right about some things lately, but maybe Dean really wouldn’t listen if you just talked to him. And with the way he still had a hand on you, maybe being physical would be the only way to get through to him after all.

You had to admit, you could see why some girls at the bar found him so appealing. You weren’t sure if this would be a good idea. You had no clue if there was any way that Dean would be okay with this if he was human. But if this was the way to get through to him, then maybe it was worth a shot.

You moved to where you were straddling Dean’s lap and you placed a hand on his shoulder, “Does it matter who says it? Remember, I know how that mark feels. And I know how exhilarating it is to do whatever the hell you want.” Then you carefully let your hand down before letting your fingertips graze his own mark.

You lifted his arm up and placed a kiss on his mark, then you could feel him start to lose some of the tension as he watched you before you spoke again, “On the flip side, there’s a right and a wrong way to do things so you won’t get yourself in trouble with whatever hunters come your way.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about my tactics. There’s nothing wrong and you know that.” Dean said as he had his free hand on your hip before scooting you up more. But then you felt his touch on your own mark. But this time was different from all of the others. It felt good when he touched it. Maybe it was because he was a demon now too. Anyway you were trying not to get distracted.

“Well, I know that Abaddon’s demons are still after you because you killed her. And personally, I love killing them with you. Kind of rejuvenating.” You said as you leaned in before you started planting kisses on his neck.

“But with you being reckless in places like gas stations or with security cameras..” You said before you held his hand, “You’ll have human Feds on you along with other demons or hunters. We can’t have that, otherwise it’ll ruin the fun of this little adventure, won’t it?”

Dean intertwined your fingers, relaxing as he felt your lips along his neck and jawline, “You really like this so called adventure, huh?” He chuckled deeply.

“I do, and that’s why we can’t let you get caught so easily.” You reminded but then you felt Dean flip you over to where you were on your back.

You could feel your heart racing as you gazed up into those gorgeous eyes of his. You nibbled on your lower lip as he took the arm with the mark and placed it beside your head while his other hand was on your hip, gradually finding its way beneath your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips touching your skin was growing more exciting, yet so wrong in so many ways.

“You’re holding something back…” Dean said and you lifted a brow.

“Am I that easy for you to read?”

“Let your desires win for tonight, Doll. The mixture between feeling right and wrong? I’ve been there. Why don’t we use tonight so you can explore that feeling.” He said and his large hand went down to your thigh, guiding it so your leg would make its way around his waist and he’d have access to your covered core.

“How did you know I had mixed feelings?”

“Because you don’t know how much human is left in me. You don’t know if the human me would be in bed with a demon. Newsflash, Doll… I’m really starting to like this little condition of mine. No regrets. So there’s nothing for you to overthink about.” He said as he dipped his head down into the crook of your neck before planting hot kisses on your skin.

“We’ve killed and tortured demons together… we’ve been traveling the road and raising hell together… why don’t we try a new aspect of this adventure you love so much and then I’ll think about toning down that recklessness you’re so worried about.”

You moved away so Dean would get off your neck and you looked up at him. You could tell that there was very little humanity left in him. If you did this, there would be no strings attached on his end after all.

“So this is the way we’re negotiating?” You asked with a chuckle and Dean smirked.

“I get the feeling you had an agenda wether we have sex or not. But I gotta tell ya… I may be open to listen if this is where it’ll go. Besides, getting you laid might help you lose some of that worry you’ve got over nothing.”

A negotiation… that’s all this would ever be for either of you.

You bit your lip before you reached up and pulled him down by the back of his neck, your lips collided as you closed your eyes. His lips tasted of cinnamon, whisky, and some cherry pie he must’ve consumed sometime that day at the bar. You could smell the alcohol and smoke from the bar but you didn’t care. You felt him nibble on your bottom lip, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Just how experienced was he with this kind of thing?

The kiss continued to grow more heated and hungry as the two of you discarded your clothes and proceeded to explore one another in ways even you never thought imaginable…

Dean was sitting at the bar, drinking yet again after a bar fight. His knuckles were still a little bloody but he didn’t care. He could feel the stares from the patrons inside but it didn’t matter. He did what he had to do. Some random guy was being a dick to a lady and he had to defend her honor. Maybe it was a little more violent than it should have been but who cares.

He couldn’t ignore the stares of a certain demon that was there, it wasn’t you and it wasn’t Crowley.

However, he was meeting with Crowley and he just found out some news.

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been sending demons to kill me?” He asked, brows narrowing as he shifted in his seat to face the King of Hell.

“To make you sharp. If it weren’t for me sending the demon chum your way you would have been killed. The mark needs to be sustained and you need to get better at using it, otherwise..”

“Otherwise I turn into a full demon, yeah I get it. I got that six weeks ago. You lied, Crowley.” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer before he stood up.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, I’m not a saint so of course I lied.” Crowley said, “Now sit down, will you?” Dean just gave him a look, almost one of defiance as he continued to stand.

“Alright, I needed to keep you sharp for our future, of which we need to talk about.”

“Our future? Really?”

“Our professional future. If I have to spend one more night in this ‘feated party dish of broken dreams and ‘b’ ‘o’ I will cut off my own face.” Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatic remark, but the dramatic reactions are a part of Crowley’s character he supposed.

“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about because I’m good. Hell, I feel fantastic.” He said, holding his arms to his sides while he spoke. He was so sick and tired of people commenting on how they thought he was doing, questioning his skills in combat and whatnot. He wasn’t an idiot and he was tired of being treated like a child.

“Oh really? How many one hit wonders can you sing to death? How many of those stupid challenges on the menu can you consume?”

“Alright listen,” Dean said as he sat back down next to the demon, “the deal was we howl at the moon. No time stamp, no expiration date.”

“And we’ve done all of that. We’ve had our time of fun and all, and I’ll treasure these fleeting moments forever, but this is not what we should be doing for the rest of our lives. It’s time for us to accept what we are and go back to work. You, me, Y/N, the three of us.”

“Oh the Three Musketeers thing? As if…”

“Think of it, the King of Hell and Dean Winchester both by his side. Together the two of us could create the perfect Hell. We aren’t ending the party, just moving the party is all. Just a thought.” Crowley said as he got up.

“Right, and where exactly does Y/N fit into all this? She mentioned something about me being too reckless or whatever. What the hell was that about?”

“First of all, she’s more concerned about whatever none sense you’re putting yourself through than I am. I just gave a suggestion so she could help you get your head on straight. Speak to you in a way you may be able to understand after all.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I offered a similar job offer, being by my side as well. It gives her something to live for rather than living amongst bloody humans and a Winchester that can’t get a grip of himself.” Crowley grumbled.

“Trust me, she knows I can get a grip of myself.” Dean smirked and the other demon acted like he was going to hurl.

“Please, spare me the details.”

Just as he was about to walk off, he realized there was something he should also mention to Dean, “By the way, I spoke to Moose earlier.”

“Um, what?” Dean asked and he turned around, looking at Crowley and he leaned his back against the bar counter.

“Seems he’s been tracking us for some time now. Apparently he got some phone from one of the demons you killed. Some things were said, perhaps too many things. Sorry about that. He may be here by morning.”

“So you sold me out. Perfect.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t know how she feels but I know that I’m sure as hell tired of it.” He said starting to get ticked off.

“I sold you out, try doing you a damned favor. Everything I’ve done for you and for Y/N has been nothing but a favor. The mark, the First Blade, nursing you back to health, offering you a place by my side has all been a favor. Whether you see it or not.” He said, Dean simply looked at the demon and listened, not really sure if he should take it all to heart.

“Take the night. Think about it. You know where you can find me.”

Dean watched as Crowley walked away to go off who knows where.

He thought about last night with you. He figured that Crowley may have talked to you otherwise he knew you probably wouldn’t have thought to sleep with him in the first place no matter how good the night turned out to be. It was one hell of a way to get him to listen though. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were against him too, if Sam had tried to contact you like he ended up contacting Crowley.

He stayed at that bar table for a few more hours and saw a few girls here and there he could hit on but then he saw you walking you through the door. He rolled his eyes and turned around to the bar and told the bartender to get him a refill.

“Well you look like Hell.” He heard you say and he scoffed a little.

“Did you know about Crowley’s sons of bitches coming to kill me?” He asked you as you sat next to him.

“He decided to take it upon himself to have a little discussion last night, yes.” He heard you reply and he rolled his eyes again.

“And did you know Sam’s been tracking us and now he’s looking for me?”

“No, he failed to include that detail. But are you surprised? You and Sam have this thing about going after each other for years. Of course he’s after you and you should’ve known that since the day you left.”

Dean hummed a little as he took a sip of his whisky before he looked at you again.

“So, you think I’m reckless, huh? I think Sammy’s on my tail because of those demons I killed so you may actually be right.” He said and you tilted your head a little.

“Was there any doubt?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Oh Dean… you and your trust issues.” You sighed as he watched you take a sip of your brandy.

“Can you blame me? The sex last night wasn’t even for a good time. It was just so I can dial things down a little.” He grumbled.

“For the record, even if Crowley did had something to do with it, or even if he hadn’t talked to me at all, my point would have still been the same. I’m not a liar like Crowley. I’m right about this and deep down you know it.” He heard you speak and he rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“What are you, my wife?”

“Oh shut up. If you want this howling at the moon thing with you and Crowley to continue, I get that. But a part of enjoying whatever life this is and whatever you’re deciding, at least be smart about it. Everything I said last night was to try and help you before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Fine, fine. What do you want me to say? Thanks for having a heart? You spoke your piece. Can we move on?”

He heard you sigh and when he glanced over at you again, his gaze softened a little, “Why don’t you and I get out of here? Sam’s probably on his way as we speak so we may need to get on the road again. I’d rather not have him find me and take me back to that blasted bunker.”

“You still want me to travel with you after you made the stupid assumption that I stabbed you in the back?”

“Well… Killing those demons by myself won’t be half as fun. Plus you aren’t nearly as big of a pain in the ass as Crowley.”

“Um.. thanks? I think?”

Dean got up and he tipped the bartender for the both of you and you guys got out of the bar so you could go to his Impala.

“You know… I guess I should thank you for picking me up in Ohio. This has probably been the most fun I’ve had in years.” Dean smirked a little.

“Speaking of fun.. I couldn’t help but notice we’ve had another demon with a death wish watching us the whole time we’ve been in the bar today.” He said and he watched you look up at him and it seemed to peek your interest.

“We’ve got some work to do, huh?” You asked and Dean smirked as he pulled out the First Blade.

Both of you turned around and saw a vessel that was about as tall but not quite as muscular as Dean walking towards you with an angel blade.

Dean started to fight off the demon and knocked him out before you managed to teleport the three of you to some abandoned alley where there would be no cameras around. Somewhere that wouldn’t get Dean into any kind of trouble, nice and secluded.

When the demon finally woke up, you held your hand up and pinned the demon up against the wall. Watching the demon struggle was already fun in itself.

“You and Abaddon’s followers… you know Crowley already told us he was sending you. All for the sake of exercise… He thinks you’re nothing but worthless scum. Which… you are, but I bet that makes you feel so small.” You said.

Then Dean walked over to the demon with his blade before he started to stab the demon repeatedly. You released the demon when it was initially wounded. It tried to swing at Dean but then Dean blocked the attack before pinning him against the wall and he stabbed the demon in the neck with the blade.

After a few moments of slicing and dicing with a bit of overkill, Dean stepped away from the body. His clothes were covered in blood and you looked at him. He was relentless but, it was what the mark wanted him to be.

You snapped your fingers and the demon went up in red smoke and you looked at the hunter in front of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We can’t have cameras catching you all bloody.” You insisted and you snapped your fingers yet again and it was like the demon blood turned into red smoke and disappeared as well.

“There. Clean slate. That’s how you have fun killing without leaving evidence behind.” He heard you and he watched you walk away to the car, making him smirk a little.

Then, once you two made it into the Impala again you got into the car. Dean backed the car out of the parking lot and began driving away.

The first part of the ride was silent and Dean was growing lost in thought before he heard you start to speak again, “You know Sam isn’t going to stop looking for you. And you know you won’t be able to run forever.” He assumed you were referring to the discussion of Sam tracking the three of you down to find Dean.

“So?”

“So… what do you plan on doing about it if you don’t want to be found?”

“That may have to be something I think about another time. At this point I’m thinking of changing my number just to stop getting calls from the guy.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing with your brother…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

Hey there!! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far in the fanfiction! Sorry this chapter was a little short, it’s more of a filler chapter but there is more Demon Dean to come within the next chapters. Will Sam contact you before Dean changes for good? Or will Dean accept Crowley’s offer to stand by his side as a ruler of Hell?

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@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @justtrying2getby-blog

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