Sam X Reader - Blog Posts

Reluctant Guardian

I know its been a while and I'm sorry :( of course, if you have any requests, mine are still open and welcome!! Now onto Sammy Winchester!!!

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Sam Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used for Reader

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

Reluctant Guardian

Sam Winchester had been on the trail of a nest of vampires for days. With Dean off handling a haunting in another town, Sam insisted he could manage this one on his own. But now, as he leaned against a tree in the dense forest, clutching his bleeding side, he wasn't so sure.

The vampire lay dead at his feet, its head severed from its body. But the satisfaction of victory was overshadowed by the pain radiating from the deep gash in his side. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

"Castiel," Sam muttered as he fumbled for his phone. He dialed the angel’s number, hoping against hope that his friend would be available.

On the other end, Castiel was in the midst of a heated argument with several other angels. The celestial conflict was growing more intense by the day, leaving him stretched thin.

"Sam?" Castiel's voice came through, strained but concerned.

"Cas, I’m hurt. I need you to heal me," Sam gasped, his vision starting to blur.

"I'm… I'm tied up with something crucial," Castiel replied, glancing around at the other angels. "But I'll get someone to you."

Before Sam could protest, Castiel ended the call and turned to the angel beside him. "I need you to go to Sam. He's hurt."

The angel, you, narrowed your eyes. "Why me? Surely there are others who can—"

"There's no time to argue," Castiel interrupted, his voice stern. "Go now."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "Cas, I am in the middle of handling other pressing matters. Why can't Balthazar or even Uriel take care of this?"

Castiel’s gaze hardened. "Balthazar is dealing with a demon incursion in Europe, and Uriel is… well, Uriel. You're the best option right now."

"Best option, or just the most convenient?" you shot back. "You always do this, Cas. Every time Sam or Dean gets themselves into trouble, I'm the one you call. Why?"

"Because I trust you," Castiel replied, his tone softening but still firm. "And because I know you care, even if you won’t admit it."

You looked away, the truth of his words hitting harder than you wanted to acknowledge. "This isn’t about me caring. It’s about you using me as a crutch for your human friends."

"They’re more than just human friends," Castiel said quietly. "They’re family."

The word 'family' struck a chord. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fine. I’ll go. But this is the last time, Cas."

Castiel gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you."

With a heavy sigh, you vanished from Castiel's side and appeared in the forest where Sam was barely holding on to consciousness.

"Sam Winchester," you muttered under your breath, annoyed at the task. "Always getting into trouble."

Sam looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. "You’re not Cas."

"No, I’m not," you replied curtly, kneeling beside him. "But I’m here to save your sorry hide, so hold still."

As you placed your hands over his wound, a warm light emanated from your palms, healing the gash almost instantly. Sam winced, then sighed in relief as the pain subsided.

"Thanks," he said, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and confusion.

"You're welcome," you replied, standing up. "Though I don’t understand why Castiel sends me to you every time you get yourself into trouble."

"Maybe because he knows you’re capable," Sam suggested, standing up slowly. "Or maybe he enjoys seeing us butt heads."

You scoffed. "Or maybe he just enjoys seeing you get under my skin."

Sam, despite his condition, couldn’t help but grin. "It's mutual, you know. You have a knack for pushing my buttons."

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you," you shot back, crossing your arms. "Why do you always insist on taking these solo missions? You know you can't handle everything on your own."

"I'm perfectly capable," Sam retorted, the defensive tone in his voice unmistakable. "And I don’t need an angel babysitter."

"Clearly, you do," you said, your voice rising in frustration. "You were about to bleed out here, Sam! Do you have any idea how reckless that is?"

"Reckless?" Sam's eyes flared with anger. "I was handling it. I had it under control."

"You call this under control?" you snapped, gesturing to his bloodstained clothes. "You’re lucky I got here in time."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, taking a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate what you did. I do. But you don’t get to lecture me about taking risks. It's part of the job."

"Taking risks is one thing. Getting yourself killed is another," you replied, your tone softening slightly. "I don't enjoy seeing you like this, Sam. I care too much to keep watching you hurt yourself."

There was a stunned silence as the words hung in the air. You immediately regretted letting your true feelings slip, and Sam's eyes widened in surprise.

"You… you care about me?" Sam asked, his voice softening.

You looked away, feeling vulnerable. "I… I didn't mean it like that."

"But you do care," Sam said, stepping closer despite the lingering pain. "I didn’t know."

"Well, now you do," you replied curtly, trying to regain your composure. "Just… try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Sam hesitated, then took a deep breath. "You know, you're not the only one who cares."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I care about you too," Sam confessed, his voice steady. "Probably more than I should. And it's not just because you save my life. It's because you're there, even when we argue, even when things get tough. You're there."

You stared at him, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sam…"

"Look, I'm not saying it's easy," Sam continued, his eyes locked on yours. "But I think there's something here, between us. Something worth fighting for."

You felt your defenses crumbling. "I… I never thought you felt that way."

"Well, I do," Sam said softly. "And I think maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out together."

For a moment, you both stood there, the forest around you silent. Then you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "Okay. Let's try."

Sam smiled back, relief and hope evident in his eyes. "Yeah. Let's."

You nodded curtly before vanishing, leaving Sam alone in the forest once more. As he started making his way back to the motel, he couldn't help but feel that despite the friction, a deeper connection had been forged between the two of you—a reluctant but undeniable bond that might just be the beginning of something more.

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Heartbeat Symphony:

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

A Messy Christmas Surprise:

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

Sam Winchester

Christmas Tides:

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

Reluctant Guardian:

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

Castiel Novak

Angelic Apologies:

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

Heavenly Christmas:

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

Rowena MacLeod

Enchanting Christmas:

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

Jack Kline

Mistletoe Moments:

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

-Spoil You Rotten-

Sam Kiszka/Reader

18+ Only!

You were only here because it was your best friend's birthday. You'd never spend this much money for a night out at such a fancy restaurant otherwise.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for your best friend among the sea of well-dressed patrons. Every woman seemed to be draped in luxurious fabrics, their jewelry most likely more expensive than your car. Men donned in tailored outfit exuded an air of confident sophistication that you just couldn't mimic.

You, on the other hand, felt out of place in your simple ensemble, its lack of embellishments a stark contrast to the attire around you.

You shuffled past a waiter who side-eyed you a bit, finally catching a glimpse of your friends familiar hair. She grinned and waved you over, gesturing to the seat beside her.

"Hey, you made it!" She exclaimed. Her grin widened, causing you to smile as well, her joy infectious.

Your eyes glanced at the various faces at the table. You recognized nearly all of them, most being mutual friends of yours. One, though, you've never met.

He wore a purple and white bleached button up shirt, though it was half-unbuttoned, exposing his soft chest. An expensive looking gold pendant hung around his neck, the gold glinting back at you in the gentle candlelight around the table. His short chestnut hair was pushed back out of his face, showing off his honey brown eyes and a little scruff of facial hair. His lithe fingers delicately lifted the champagne glass up to his lips, your eyes following it without thinking.

Okay, you admit that this stranger was pretty. His eyes met yours for just a moment, a slight smile gracing his lips.

"Oh, Y/N, this is Sam. He and his brothers are good friends of mine, and-" Your friend kept explaining how she knew him, but to be honest, you weren't paying attention.

Sam... so that was his name...

"It's nice to meet you, Sam," you say, your voice a little breathless as you extended your hand towards him. Sam's honey brown eyes sparkled mischievously as he took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm, yet gentle, his fingers calloused but palms soft. Your face suddenly felt a bit warm.

"Nice to meet you too, sweetheart," Sam replied in a playful tone. He released your hand and, with a teasing wink, knocked back the rest of his champagne.

Your friend leaned over, her laughter bubbling up from her lips, "He's always like that, pay him no mind," she said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. You couldn't help but join in her laughter, the tension from the momentary exchange easing as a sense of familiarity settled in.

As the dinner progressed, your focus shifted back to the party for your friend. Everyone presented her with various gifts; a new pair of shoes, the book series she's been eyeing for a while, a whole box of cookies from her favorite local bakery, an expensive gold bracelet from Sam, and from you, a simple hand-knit scarf.

Your gift seemed ordinary in comparison, but when she wrapped you in a tight hug you let go of your anxieties, knowing she loved it just as much as she did everything else.

You caught Sam's gaze again out of the corner of your eye, that mischievous glint in his eyes again.

"That's a great scarf, Y/N..." He mumbled, a slight twinge of admiration worming its way into his voice, "You're pretty good with your hands, eh?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson, the heat spreading across your face like wildfire. There were a few chuckles as you looked away from Sam, unsure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you.

You shook your head and tried to ignore it as a waiter came over to take your dinner orders. You silently paled at the prices, wondering if it was worth next week's groceries for a nice dinner tonight. Your decision was made for you when Sam spoke up.

"I'll pay for everyone tonight."

A few polite objections came up, but he waved them off with a chuckle, "Nope, I've already decided. Order whatever you guys like, I've got the bill handled," His eyes met yours and, for a second, you felt like he was speaking to you directly, "Let me spoil everyone a bit."

You still tried to order something inexpensive, then leaned over to your friend.

"Hey," You whispered, "Is he really gonna pay for everyone's food?"

"Oh yeah, he is. He does this all the time," She replies with a quiet laugh, "He won't take no for an answer, so don't even try."

"How does he even have so much money?" You ask in a hushed whisper. Sam didn't seem to dress excessively lavish or anything, so his apparent wealth was surprising.

"Oh, you didn't know? He's a musician, he and his brothers. They're all in a band."

You sputtered a bit, covering your noise of surprise with an awkward cough. The first chance you got, you pulled out your cell phone, tucking it under the table a bit and typing the band name into Google.

"Holy shit..." You mumbled to yourself. Sam was a celebrity?? You shouldn't have been surprised, really; the guy oozes charisma and your friend has always had a knack for befriending popular people.

You looked him up and down again, looking away when you realized he had caught you staring. Trying to avoid his gaze, you accepted a glass of wine offered to you, sipping it quickly.

"Let's raise a toast to the birthday girl!" Someone suggested, everyone agreeing.

You risked another glance at Sam as you lifted your glass, and promptly gripped the table as hard as you could.

Sam's eyes never left yours as he raised his wine glass, an unreadable expression on his face. His other hand, though, subtly pulled at the front of his shirt, exposing one of his nipples.

Fuck... He was flirting with you, wasn't he??

As soon as the toast was said, you all but chugged your wine. You were way too sober for this situation, face red and hot. Sam seemed unbothered, laughing with the others like nothing happened.

"You should go for it."

The sudden whisper from your friend surprised you, nearly giving yourself whiplash from how fast you turned to look at her.

"W-what?"

"Sam. You should totally ask him out. I bet he'd say yes."

You scoffed quietly, shaking your head, "There's no way. He's cute and all, but I'm just a nobody."

Your friend had this look on her face, like she knew something you didn't.

"It's your choice, but I think you should do it."

The quiet conversation between the two of you trailed off as the party neared its end. The lively atmosphere that had filled the room seemed to fade into a soft hum, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You had indulged in a few glasses of wine at this point, the liquid adding a gentle sway to your movements. The champagne from earlier had only heightened the intoxicating haze that enveloped you.

As you stood, you could feel a slight wobble in your steps, your mind momentarily disoriented by the heady mixture of alcohol and emotions in you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and wished everyone a good night.

A a chorus of farewells and well wishes met your ears, but you dared not risk a glance in Sam's direction. You knew that if your eyes were to meet, all your resolve to go home without making a fool of yourself would crumble like a sandcastle at high tide.

Instead, you focused on getting to your car and back home. You dug around for your keys, blinking away the double vision that appeared for a minute. Maybe you shouldn't drive. But, you couldn't just leave your car here...

A warm, calloused hand snagged your keys from your unsuspecting grip.

You whirled around, your eyes widening as you caught sight of Sam standing there with a gentle grin on his face, your keys held delicately between his fingers. The flickering lamplight cast a soft glow on his features, accentuating the twinkle in his eyes.

"I, ah, don't think you should be driving, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, melodious timbre.

"I... I can handle it," you mumbled, your voice betraying your uncertainty as you reached out instinctively for your keys. But before your trembling fingers could grasp them, Sam swiftly moved his hand out of your reach, his eyes never leaving yours.

"No, you really shouldn't," he insisted gently, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "It's not safe, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

You watched as he let himself into the driver's side of your car, gesturing to the passenger seat.

"Well?"

"What?" You asked, not understanding.

"Are you gonna get in so I can drive you home or do you need me to help you into the car?" He asked, a small chuckle slipping out.

Drive you home?? You just met the guy tonight, and still had no clear read on him or his personality, and he had spent all night sort-of flirting with you. The logical thing would be to turn him down and just call for an Uber.

But... you couldn't lie. He was pretty, he seemed nice enough, and damn it, it's been a while since you'd went home with anyone. So, after shooting your friend a quick text, you climbed into the passenger seat of your car and told him the address so he could pull it up on his phone.

You hoped this wasn't a mistake.

The car ride was silent for a while. You stared out the window as Sam drove, occasionally taking quick glances at his reflection.

He really was pretty. There was a feminine charm to him with his soft skin and delicate limbs, but his strong features and low voice that made your knees weak gave him a masculine energy that turned heads.

When he met your gaze this time, you didn't look away.

"Y/N, you're staring," He teased, looking unbothered.

"Yeah..." You replied, wiping your sweaty palms on your thighs.

"You seem to do that a lot."

"I have... recently..."

"Mhm... I see."

The car was quiet again, too quiet. You could feel the tension in the air, and it was driving you crazy.

"Thanks for paying for everyone tonight. That was generous of you." You mumbled, hoping to break the awkward silence.

The soft illumination of the passing streetlights painted delicate shadows on his face, accentuating the contours of his features as he spoke, "I like spoiling people..." He glanced over at you, "And you looked like you could use a bit of spoiling."

Your face burned red at that, but you managed to pull a response from your lips. "I, um... thanks. I really appreciate it, Sam. If you ever want, I can pay you back..."

"Nope." Was his simple response.

"But-"

"Nuh-uh. I have more money than I know what to do with, Y/N. I'll gladly spend it on a dinner with my friends. I mean, what else would I use it on? Another piano? Trust me, I don't need you to pay me back."

You snickered at his words, grateful for his relaxed energy.

"Alright, alright. I'll let you spoil me, but only this once," You teased back as he pulled into the driveway of your apartment complex. It was then that you realized something, "Wait... how are you gonna get home?"

He shrugged, "Ah, I figure I'll call an Uber or something."

You shook you head and, before you could think about it, words tumbled out of your mouth, "How about you spend the night?"

Even Sam seemed a bit taken aback by your offer, his eyebrows wrinkling in surprise.

"You don't have to do that, I don't even live far-"

"I want you to."

And there was that tension from before. Maybe the alcohol in your system was giving you a boost of confidence, or maybe you had finally gone crazy, but you repeated what you had said, slower this time.

"I... I want you to stay the night, if you want to."

He nodded, his eyes darker than before, "Yeah. I want to."

----

You'd be embarrassed about it later, but you pounced on Sam the second the door closed behind you both, your body moving with an urgency you didn't know you possessed. You pushed him up against a nearby wall, hands finding their way into his soft chestnut locks as his moved to your hips.

"Mm- fuck, babe..." Sam gasped as you both pulled away for air, "I knew you were desperate but damn."

You used the hand still buried in his hair to yank his head back, giving you room to bite at his throat. A whine clawed it's way out of his throat at the sudden sting of his hair being pulled and teeth on his neck. You giggled against his pulse.

"Who's the desperate one now?"

He rolled his eyes, gripping your hips tighter and pulling them flush to his.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me again," He mumbled, grinning against your cheek.

You two made your way to your bedroom, stumbling down the short hallway and fumbling with your doorknob for a moment before finally getting it open. Sam cornered you against the edge of the bed, his lips never leaving yours. You let your hands wander down to his pants, teasing the button with your fingers.

"Can I...?" You mumbled when he pulls away for a breath.

A low whine slipped from his lips, "Please."

You chuckle, your fingers trailing over his zipper, "Oh... I like it when you beg like that."

"Fuck, sweetheart..."

Sam didn’t stay dressed for very long after that, tossing clothes haphazardly onto your floor to find later.

Your eyes traced the contours of Sam's thin frame, absorbing every inch of him. His sharp shoulders tapered down to a slender, delicate waist and arms sculpted from years of being a musician. The soft glow of the moonlight cascading through the parted curtains highlighted the subtle lines and curves of his body, making him look softer somehow. A trail of hair, sparse yet enticing, led your eyes down to his cock, already hard and weeping against his abdomen.

"You see something you like?" He asked, a cocky grin on his face.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, pushing him onto his back and clambering into his lap. You felt him tense in anticipation beneath you as you let your hands wander over his chest, just feeling his skin beneath your palms. He gasped when you teased a nipple before moving to the other side, mirroring the action.

"...good boy..." You mumbled, not fully aware you even said it aloud.

The reaction was immediate. Sam arched his back, grinding his erection against your core with a high-pitched whine. You were surprised by the intense reaction, not expecting two little words to do so much for him.

"Did you like that?" you asked, your voice a whisper against his ear, your lips brushing gently against his jaw. You felt his body tremble beneath you, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Y-Yeah... I liked it..." he mumbled, his voice barely audible, his blush deepening. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a flush of warmth spreading across his cheeks and trailing down to his chest, contrasting against the pale expanse of his skin. His eyes, now darker than before, were locked on you, awaiting your next move.

You decided to give in for now, keeping eye contact as you scooted down the bed, positioning yourself between Sam's legs. He sat up, his own eyes filled with anticipation and excitement. The air was heavy with the heady scent of desire, thick and intoxicating, as you let your breath ghost over his cock. Your warm exhale sent a shiver down his spine, causing his member to twitch.

Sam's hands trembled slightly as they reached out, his fingers gently tangling in your hair. You gave him a disapproving look.

"Good boys are patient, Sammy... I'll let you hold my hair so long as you don't try to rush me," You warn, leaning into his touch.

"I'll be good..." He replied, not looking away.

And without another word, you leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. Sam tensed, trying to hold back any sudden movements as a groan slipped out, his grip on your hair tightening instinctively.

The room seemed to hum with anticipation, the sound of your breathing mingling with his low moans. As your tongue traced along the sensitive ridge of his arousal, his hips twitched involuntarily, a small gasp escaping his lips.

He was doing so well at being patient, until...

His hips jolted up as you took the head into your mouth, causing you to gag. You pulled off immediately, not missing the disappointed whine your actions caused.

"Wha-"

"I told you to be still and be patient, didn't I?" You ask. A mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you rub your cheek against his thigh, relishing in the softness of his skin against your face, "Bad boys don't get rewarded, Sammy..." you tut, playfully shaking your head.

Sam's breath hitches at the combination of your words and actions, his pupils dilating as desire courses through his veins.

"I won't do it again."

You shake your head, "You need to say sorry, sweetheart, " you say, using that nickname he used on you.

When Sam kept his lips shut, you grinned.

This was getting good.

"Is my good boy going to be a brat now?" You ask, running a fingertip up to the slit of his cock, teasing it as a bead of precum leaked out, "That's a shame. I guess I'll have to just punish you..."

You wrapped a hand around his cock, drooling onto it to lubricate the slide as you began jerking him off. He clearly seemed confused, not expecting you to continue getting him off. All the teasing seemed to have worked him up quite a bit; it was clear he was already getting close. He was nearing that edge, nearing that tipping point, and then...

And then, you let go, backing off completely.

"No!" Sam gasped, his voice filled with desperation, "Why'd you stop? 'M so close..."

"Bad boys don't get to cum," you replied as you hovered just out of his reach.

Sam's eyes widened, need shining in their depths. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths coming out in short, uneven gasps. He tried to reach for his aching member, his hand trembling, but you swatted it out of the way.

"Don't make me tie up your hands, Sammy..." You threaten, but place a gentle hand on his thigh, a silent, "Is this okay?"

Sam gave the faintest nod, so you pushed onward.

"If you say please, maybe I'll forgive you."

Sam kept his mouth shut.

Well... on with the show.

He got worked up much faster this time, his hands twitching from their spot at his side as you tightened your grip on him. The raw intensity in the room was palpable, a potent mix of desire and anticipation, as your fingers wrapped around Sam's throbbing length. His breath hitched in his throat, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. His eyes were glazed over, his pupils dilated as he watched you.

"You getting close again, baby?" You ask, grinning when he nodded.

Again, before he could finish, you pulled your hands away. He let out a frustrated sob, so close to finishing that even the smallest touch could send him over the edge. His fingers curled into his own hair and he finally gave in, his voice rough from desperation.

"P-please... let me cum..." He begged, tears in his eyes, "I'll be a good boy, I promise! Please!"

Satisfied with his begging, you leaned up and kissed him, trailing your lips down his body.

"There's my good boy..." You mumbled, before taking him into your mouth. He barely lasted a minute, so close from your previous edging. You cringed slightly at the bitter taste of his spunk in your mouth, but it gave you one last idea. You crawled up and pressed your lips to his again, shivering as he tasted himself.

You collapsed beside Sam, making sure to give him plenty of attention as he came down from his orgasm. You kissed the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks and gently ran your fingers through his hair, cradling his lanky body to yours.

"Was that okay?" You ask quietly.

"More than okay, sweetheart..." He replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around you, "Though I think I'm due for some cuddling now."

"Now that's something I can do."

----

i wanna climb him like a tree

jus shitposting tbh

MENTAL HOSPITAL SAM!! 😩😩

OOO I WANT THAT COOKIE SO EFFING BAD!!

sammy edit!!

he’s so beautiful :>> !!

welcome to my safehouse

genre guide:

angst – ( ¤ )

fluff – ( ♡ )

hurt/comfort – ( ☆ )

smut – ( ♤ )

romantic ship – ( r )

platonic ship – ( p )

song fic – ( ♧ )

disclaimer: all of my writings will accommodate to black audiences unless requested otherwise. meaning that i write with a black person in mind, if that makes sense. if this bothers you then idk what to tell you. it's hard to find black!reader fics anywhere so i'm trying to add to one's that are there.

*masterlist still under construction*

MARVEL

natasha romanoff [ black widow ]

"thank you for your cooperation."

series:

have mercy | black!oc — on hold

summary: The Avengers need her help. Jaslyn Wilson doesn't want to, though. Will the help of a certain redheaded avenger draw her out?

oneshots:

sam wilson [ falcon/captain america ]

"on your left."

series:

the stars write back | black!oc

summary: Entries between lovers that follow their story from beginning to end. Read along as the two tangles together and play tug of war with the stars.

love of my life [5/20/22] ( ¤ )

oneshots:

set me free | black!reader [1/16/24] ( p ) ( ☆ )

summary: it is said that your skin will regenerate itself approximately every 27 days. although, that may be true... it's been two years. why doesn't it feel like it?

michelle jones [ mj watson ]

"if you expect disappointment, then you can never really get disappointed."

series:

oneshots:

wash day | black!reader [ coming soon ]

LOTR in a modern world headcanons? I think yes.

I did this on one of my old accounts that i ended up deleting for some reason, i don’t remember, but here. Back on my Lord Of The Rings BS, let’s gooooo. This’ll be the fellowship with everyone intact, no one is dead.

As always requests are open and let me know if you want more!

LOTR x GN! Reader, general headcanons for if you had to take care of them today, in 2023. Enjoy!

The ring most likely has no power in this dimension, so yay Frodo is free from torment!

Sam loves watching cooking, gardening and home renovation shows, and he gets very invested in the former two. You learn a lot you didn’t really need to know from his commentary

Once Pippin learns about pyjamas and fuzzy slippers he never goes back, you literally cannot get him out of them

Boromir and Aragorn, being human and coincidentally two of the most responsible members of the fellowship, are the easiest to take in public to the grocery store and such.

You can pass off the hobbits (if they cover their ears with their hair) as children, and Gimli is your friend with dwarfism.

Gandalf you can pass off as your grandfather, and Legolas looks pretty normal if you cover his ears.

Pippin is the type to bounce in his seat in the car and ask “Are we there yet?!” every 5 minutes

Frodo really likes to draw, especially when there’s so many cool places and movies to draw inspiration from.

Movie nights? No horrors. The hobbits are terrified by ‘em.

Movie nights are literally so difficult because they all have such different tastes

Merry really likes James Bond movies.

Pippin is obsessed with nail polish when you introduce him to it. Boromir gets his repainted every time the polish come off. His nails need serious help after a while

Pippin and Merry often start pillow fights, and drag everyone else into it

If you have space for a garden or plants in your home, Sam is on it. He finds it calming, so now you have some home grown plants :)

Taking the hobbits in public? Bad idea. You can trust Frodo and Sam, but Merry inevitably drags Pippin off to do something dumb and possibly dangerous.

Gandalf has an old man rocker. There is no discussion.

The hobbits do the classic “getting one sibling to ask for fast food because whoever’s in charge will say yes”, they get Frodo to do this because he has the best puppy dog face and he’s unsure about asking for things normally.

Pippin and Merry cannot handle too much caffeine or sugar or they go crazy

You thought Legolas’ hair was good before? He steals your hair care products and his hair is literally perfect.

(He’s also willing to do skincare with you, not that his face needs it. Again, flawless)

Game nights are so chaotic. You can’t play a lot of games since they don’t know what many things from this world are, so games like Trivia and Charades are off the table

Gimli and Legolas verse each other in video games, often enough it ends with Legolas winning and Gimli rage quitting

Aragorn is so responsible he’s literally the perfect man to do anything with, and he can hold the fort down if you need to leave

Pippin is so clingy, he trails you wherever you go and asks you random questions but it’s adorable

Boromir insists on carrying your stuff, bags of groceries, all that

Frodo often goes to the library to find new books to read, with you of course

There’s a whole debate on whether 3D or 2D animation is better, i would not get involved if i were you.

Pippin and Merry are also avid fans of quoting their favourite movies, once they see them

Legolas and Frodo are the best listeners, they will just sit there and not judge or try to give you advice they just. sit there. like the perfect men they are.

Legolas would have a meme for everything. Like any situation. You text him like “PIPPIN FELL DOWN SOME WELL WE DON’T EVEN HAVE A WELL HELP” and he just has a meme that fits the situation perfectly.

Frodo and Legolas would watch Avatar: The Last Airbender together because it’s their favourite show. Aragorn jumps in also.

Those three are also avid tea drinkers.

Boromir likes Game Of Thrones. I don’t know anything about it, he just does. Please confiscate Pippin while he does.

Pippin gasps dramatically whenever a plot twist surprises him.

Sam loves to cook, and he does a lot of cooking in the house once he arrives. You two just work together in the kitchen (if you can’t cook, he’ll teach you) and have nice sweet conversations

Legolas is great at doing people’s hair. If you ask him to, he’d probably agree, though he’d probably be a bit flustered as that is a courting ritual in his culture.

Ask Legolas to talk to you until you fall asleep. His voice is so heavenly istg-

The hobbits get sleepy when their hair is played with and it’s adorable

Won’t lie this hyperfixation came back then it circled back to TMNT and today i watched these films with my friend and now i’m back to LotR love. Most of this has been sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks.

Anyway, I think that’s about it from me, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

If you want to request, rules are pinned on my page! Let me know if you want a general part two or a set of modern headcanons for a specific character. I love LOTR in the modern world content so much.

Have a good day, and remember that you are loved!

What soft love songs the Fellowship dedicate to you (and why) <3

In the mood to make myself cry, plus I’m in my ‘i was i wasn’t lonely’ phase of the night.

Pulled most of these from my notes app lmao, and i listened to each one while writing, I highly recommend giving them a listen!

GN! reader, mostly you/your used :) (Obviously some songs will involve specified gender, please correct as you need, and remember that these characters would absolutely make these changes as well)

GIF by legolasimagines

Frodo Baggins - Hopelessly Devoted to You - Olivia Newton-John (Grease)

He definitely has the distinct memory of the classic slow burn moment of “Oh. Oh.” happening, where he realises just how much he loves you. He knew he was head over heels, and he looks at you like you hung the moon. And if you sing it to him- UGH😩💙. IN LOVE, HE SHALL BE. He probably hums it a lot when doing work or writing. Of course, the lyrics are quite relatable to him. Frodo has this internal belief that the person/people he love/s can’t love him nearly the amount he adores them. He was willing to sit around and wait on you, in the hopes that you would see him in the same way. His brain knew he should just move on, but he couldn’t let go, and he’s glad he didn’t. He’s so devoted to simply loving you.

“Hold on to the end, and that’s what I intend to do. I’m hopelessly devoted to you~”

GIF by frodo-sam

(gotta appreciate that me looking up his name resulted in a bunch of po-tay-toes memes. anyway. back to the hcs)

Samwise Gamgee - Hello, Hello - Elton John ft Lady GaGa (Gnomeo & Juliet)

He’s a sucker for meet-cute stories, and would unironically love this movie, even setting aside this banger of a song. The moment he saw you, he felt captivated by your beauty, whether or not the meeting went well or if you fell on your face. The song is just so cheerful and wholesome. He probably told you that the song reminded him of you, and that sparked the romantic relationship. Every time this sequence plays he’ll just look at you (if/when you watch the movie). PLEASE SING THIS AS A DUET WITH HIM AAAA. (He isn’t Elton John, but his voice is lovely 🥰)

“Hello, hello (Hello, hello), my, my, my, what have we here?”

GIF by tossme

Peregrin Took - I’ll Be - Edwin McCain

Honestly it’s hard to explain this one. It’s just so soft and sweet and really describes how he feels about you. Also as the youngest and a, quoting Gandalf here, “fool of a Took!”, the line “and I’ll be, better when I’m older…” is just- MWAH. This song reminds me of him honestly. He is, as the song states, “your crying shoulder”, the “greatest fan of your life”. Everything about you takes his breath away. We all know he’s the best singer in the fellowship, and its just gorgeous to listen to him sing it, especially because he means every word. He also probably dedicated this to you early on in the relationship, and it was definitely your wedding song (if you got married).

“I’ll be, better when I’m older. I’ll be, the greatest fan of your life~”

GIF by thorinsbeard

(tumblr needs more Merry gifs istg-)

Meriadoc Brandybuck - Nothing - Bruno Major

Honestly you wouldn’t expect such a lowkey song for such a high energy guy, but he’s a sucker for lazy days and sweet moments. He’s, as he likes to say, ‘work-avoidant’, and just wants to spend all his time on you. He also finds the song easy to sing to you, so thats a plus. The lyrics just resonate with him, similar to my picks for Pippin and Frodo. He’s very competitive, but he honestly doesn’t mind losing to you. He pretends like romantic or soft movies don’t make him cry, even if they do. He gets the appeal of going out and drinking and laughing, but just staying at home with you just sounds so much nicer to him. Its all about the little things in life with him, the small moments, the laughs, and every ‘I love you’ that makes him feel lighter than air.

“Dumb conversations, we lose track of time. Have I told you lately? I’m grateful you’re mine~”

GIF by thefandomimagine

Aragorn - Dark Red - Steve Lacy

He knows how dangerous his work and life is, and he’s always had this fear of leaving you behind (hence the ‘something bad is ‘bout to happen to me’). He only sees you in his life, no matter who else is wanting for his attention, he’s so devoted to you. He only hopes that you’ll stay by his side and fight with him, and he’s not willing to give up on you. No, he refuses to give up when you are involved, and he fights so hard to keep you safe and protected. The song also is easy to mumble to you when he’s tired, and it’s soothing for him to listen to. It’s just a symbol of how much you mean in his life, and how he trusts you with his heart.

“Only you, babe, only you darlin’, only you~”

GIF by reactionimages

Legolas - Lover - Taylor Swift

Unabashed Swiftie in general, but this song just hits different. So first off he probably already called you his lover, and when he found the song he thought it was perfect. I can definitely see him learning guitar and playing this song for you as well. Into the actual song analysis, this song frames his want to be close to you, the mysterious way he was drawn to you, the way he felt like time flew by whenever you talked. Also I feel like he’s made jealous relatively easily, and that’s also in the song. His heart has been borrowed before, but he’s glad he’s ended up with you, to hear your jokes, save you seats, and call you his lover. He definitely likes to sing this to you late in the night, and i can see him humming/mumbling it whenever the two of you just stand and hold each other. Its so wholesome, and he loves the way your eyes light up when he sings it with all the love in his heart, all of it for you.

“You’re my, my, my, my… lover~”

GIF by tlotrgifs

Gimli - If You Love Her - Forrest Blakk

Honestly, he’s not a very observant dwarf, but he does pay attention to you. He knows you, and he cares a lot. Protective of you to a fault, but just wants everyone to know that they shouldn’t take you or your heart for granted. He hates to admit it, but he thinks you are precious (I’M SORRy-) and every small thing about you is worth taking note of. And he does, so he knows exactly how to make you happier. He’s your personal hype-man, and truly believes that you are the best thing he has ever had. He uses the song as a guidebook on how to treat you, and while he won’t say it, or sing it, he does play this song for you and leave in a huff, just hoping you’ll know this song is meant to say that he loves you. (He might even dub it over with your preferred pronouns for the big reveal, and it’s quite funny)

“They’ll love you, if you love them like that~”

GIF by myrkvidrs

Boromir - Summer Love - The Workday Release

Boromir really thinks this song demonstrates his feelings towards you, and how he wishes you’d stick around with him. You remind him of the summer, warm, bright and hopeful. It was so simple for him to fall in love (it’s like counting 1,2,3). He’s awestruck by your beauty, and doesn’t find it enough to dream about you, he needs to be holding your hand, feeling your presence. He wants to face the world with you there next to him. You always manage to give him a smile, make sense to him, and be honest. He’s not sure how to articulate everything he feels around you, so he just says that he loves you.

“Surely this is love, this is love, this is summer love~”

WOOOOO IM DONEEEE

Ive been writing for the past 2+ hours and it’s late and I’m tired, but I really hope you enjoy. If you want to request a fic, any fandom will do, I’ll get back to you on it, I promise.

Let me know if you want me to do a Part 2 with some other characters <3 Have a great day!!

It’s been a while...

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

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

TV Shows ~

Peaky Blinders

Supernatural

Reign

Stranger Things

Movies ~

Marvel

Critical Role

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

Hi! I’m so excited to read your writing!! Quick question before requesting anything! Are you wanting to write for Colby only or are you okay with writing for Sam and Colby? Like reader x sam x colby (our girl sorta thing?)?

thank you sm! that makes me happy. I am absolutely open to writing some Sam x Colby x reader type of things too. so if you have any ideas or prompts you want me to do, just let me know! :)

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 20 Finale

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.7k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: We've reached the end!

Original / Previous Chapter

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

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

She wanted Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N didn’t answer.

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

Another knock. Then, silence.

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

She shut her eyes, jaw tightening.

“Go away.”

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

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

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

“I’m aware.”

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

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

Castiel didn’t move. “Dean is gone.”

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

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

Castiel’s expression faltered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t,” Castiel replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the night Castiel appeared again.

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

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

Cas stiffened. “Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that followed was deafening.

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

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

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

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

The twins cried from down the hall.

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

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

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

“Then leave,” she whispered.

He did.

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

…

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

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

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

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

Except for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Castiel swallowed. “Both.”

Silence hung between them, thick and sacred.

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

Cas felt a flicker of hope, painful and sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now Castiel looked with nothing but certainty.

Jack didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

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

Just once.

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

The wind in the Garden shifted.

The light grew warmer.

Jack closed his eyes.

And Castiel disappeared.

…

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

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

I was really going to do this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grace.

The light around me shimmered with gold.

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

I spun around, stumbling to my feet.

“Cas—” I nearly choked on the name.

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

Cas didn’t flinch. He just walked closer.

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

I froze.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time in weeks, I believed him.

…

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

It didn’t feel real.

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

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

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

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

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

The world stopped moving.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

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

I could barely breathe. “Dean…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you?”

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

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

Hope.

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

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

Waiting for a life to begin.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps on the porch.

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

The door creaked. The air shifted.

And there he was.

Dean.

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

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

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

“I love you,” I breathed.

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

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

But inside our little house, time finally stood still.

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

Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

And then there’s Dean.

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

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

Like a trip to the beach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean smiles. “Always.”

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

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 19

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings major character death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The bunker felt different tonight.

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

Theresa was having her baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cry—sharp, piercing, alive.

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

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

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

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

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

Dean Robert John Winchester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the air shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, my throat too tight to respond.

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

Then, like always, he was gone.

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

Strong. I hoped he was right.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

The day came faster than I thought it would.

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

By morning, the pain was coming in waves.

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

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

But there was only silence.

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

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

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

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

Cas confirmed they were healthy. Perfect.

And then he was gone.

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

They were here. My daughters.

But so was the grief.

So was the silence.

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 18

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 2 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

Bobby and Theresa were waiting for us.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

I gave her a nod. “Night.”

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

I frowned. “Okay, cool. Good talk.”

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

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

…

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

Then Castiel showed up.

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

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

Cas frowned, tilting his head. "Y/N—"

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

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

…

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

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

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

No one argued.

…

The weeks that followed were quiet. Too quiet.

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

She barely touched her coffee anymore. Certain foods made her turn pale. It was like she was punishing herself. Denying herself her normal pleasures as some sort of punishment for what I wasn’t sure. All my attempts to help her seemed to fall flat. It was as if she was pretending I didn’t exist. I understand why she was mad but to stay mad this long? I wasn’t a pro at long term relationships but this didn’t seem right.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

I had to know for sure.

Leaving the bunker felt strange, like I was slipping away unnoticed even though no one had been paying much attention to me lately. Not that I wanted to be noticed. I got in the car and drove into town, my fingers tight on the wheel, my heart hammering against my ribs. The pharmacy was nearly empty when I walked in, my footsteps muted against the linoleum floors. I knew exactly what I was looking for, but I still hesitated before grabbing them—two, no, three boxes of pregnancy tests. Just in case.

The cashier didn’t say much, and I barely heard what little they did. I paid in cash, shoved the bag deep into my pocket, and walked out into the cool afternoon air. I needed somewhere private, somewhere no one would find me.

The park. It was quiet, tucked just off the main road. The public restroom was clean enough, and right now, that was all that mattered.

Locking myself in a stall, I took a deep breath and pulled the tests from the bag. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped one, but I forced myself to focus. One by one, I took them, lined them up along the edge of the sink, and waited.

Two minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, all at once, the results appeared.

Positive.

All of them.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened, and I pressed a hand to my mouth as hot tears welled in my eyes. I stumbled back against the wall, gripping my stomach with the other hand as if that could somehow steady me.

Pregnant.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this.

But it was.

And I had no idea what to do.

…

I didn’t tell anyone.

Instead, I hid it. I wore baggy clothes, trained less, avoided heavy lifting. I found a doctor, went to appointments alone, tucked every ultrasound photo away in a vent under the bed where no one would see. I made excuses when asked why I was hiding in the library so much and not training as much as I use to. I let Sam and Bobby believe I was still shaken from Centerville and needed to concentrate on the lore so I didn’t get caught out again. If they suspected anything, they didn’t say.

The bunker carried on as usual. Sam threw himself into research. Bobby checked in regularly. Theresa kept making lists of baby names and nursery ideas.

She had dozens of them, written in the neat, careful handwriting she always used when she was excited. She pored over books, websites, even old family records, scribbling down possibilities in a notebook she carried everywhere. Every few days, she’d cross out some and add more, her favorites changing constantly.

"What about something classic? Elizabeth, Katherine, maybe Charlotte?" she’d muse out loud. Then, the next day, she’d pivot. "Or maybe something unique! Juniper, Lark, Wren—something that stands out."

Sam indulged her, offering occasional input but mostly just smiling as she planned. She even started setting up a nursery in one of the spare rooms, painting the walls a soft green at first before deciding on a pale yellow instead. She rearranged the furniture over and over, never quite satisfied with where the crib should go. Every day, something was moved, adjusted, perfected.

And Dean—

I swallowed hard, pushing that thought away.

…

Theresa was the one who found out first.

It was late, and I’d just gotten out of the shower. Standing clad in tights and a bra I dug through my dresser for a clean shirt. The door swung open, and I barely had time to react before Theresa stepped inside, chattering about something—until she froze.

I turned, my heart hammering in my chest, my damp hair dripping down my back. Her gaze had zeroed in on the unmistakable curve of my belly.

"Oh my God," she whispered, eyes wide. "You're pregnant."

My breath caught. "Taz—"

"How long?" Her voice was softer now, laced with concern.

"Five months."

Her expression shifted, something between shock and heartbreak. "You’ve been hiding this for five months?"

I nodded, my throat tightening. "I… I didn’t know how to tell anyone."

For a long moment, she just stared at me. Then, finally, she let out a small, breathy laugh and stepped forward, pulling me into a hug.

"You idiot," she whispered. "You didn’t have to do this alone."

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping her back just as tightly.

Maybe I didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I sat cross-legged on the bed, the weight of Cas’s words pressing heavily on my chest. Dean was sitting across from me, his brows furrowed as he listened to me recount every detail of what the angel had said. I could barely look at him, afraid of how he might react.

When I finished, there was a long pause. Finally, Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, about the Nephilim thing... I already knew.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Cas told me a while ago,” he admitted, his voice low. “He thought I should know, in case it ever... came up. But I didn’t think it mattered. You’re still you, Y/N. Nephilim or not.”

I stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

Dean winced. “I figured it’d just freak you out, and you’ve had enough on your plate. I was gonna tell you eventually, I swear.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And the pregnancy thing?”

“That,” he said with a dry laugh, “I’m pretty sure is Cas being Gods good little soldier. He’d do anything that guy says. But if it’s really bugging you, we can grab a pregnancy test and settle it.”

I shook my head, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. “You’re probably right. It’s just Cas being... weird.” I hesitated before adding, “Let’s just forget about it for now.”

Dean nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Good call.”

I let myself lean back into the pillows, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but with Dean’s steady presence beside me, sleep eventually came.

…

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“Y/N! Dean! Wake up!” Theresa’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

Dean groaned, rolling over to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 10:30,” he grumbled. “What could possibly be so exciting at 10:30 in the morning?”

Before either of us could get out of bed, the door burst open, and Theresa stood there, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted, her grin so wide it could’ve lit up the room.

I blinked at her, the words taking a moment to sink in. Dean sat up straighter, his face a mix of shock and confusion.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.

Theresa nodded eagerly. “Yes! I just took the test. Sam and I are having a baby!”

The silence that followed was heavy but only lasted a beat before I broke into a wide smile. “Oh my god, Theresa! That’s amazing!”

I jumped out of bed, wrapping her in a tight hug as her excitement became infectious.

Dean sat there, still looking stunned. “Congrats,” he managed, his voice laced with a kind of bemused awe.

Theresa pulled back from the hug, her eyes bright with happy tears. “Thanks! I just had to tell you guys first!”

As she babbled on about telling Sam and their plans, I couldn’t help but glance back at Dean. His expression softened as his gaze met mine, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, things felt... good. Even with all the uncertainty hanging in the air, this moment was pure joy.

…

Theresa from the moment she told us hadn’t stopped talking about dragging me shopping to put together a gift for Sam to announce the pregnancy.

Theresa practically dragged me from one store to another, her excitement bubbling over as she picked up tiny baby clothes, soft booties, and pacifiers, holding each one up for my opinion. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if the topic of babies brought an unsettling knot to my stomach.

“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Theresa asked, holding up a pale-yellow onesie with little ducks on it.

“Adorable,” I replied, my voice light even though my thoughts were far from the conversation.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had a few small items in hand, ready to put together a gift to announce her pregnancy to Sam. Just before we were about to head out, Theresa suddenly stopped.

“Wait, I need to pop into the pharmacy,” she said, gripping her stomach lightly. “This morning sickness thing... I’m not sure ginger cookies and ginger ale are gonna cut it no matter what Google says.”

“Of course,” I said, following her inside.

While Theresa chatted with the pharmacist about options, I found myself wandering down the aisles. My feet carried me to the pregnancy test section before I even realized where I was.

The shelves were lined with boxes in bright colours, each claiming to be the most accurate. My hand hovered over one, my heart pounding. I glanced back to make sure Theresa was still preoccupied, then quickly grabbed a box and shoved it into my pocket.

“Ready to go?” Theresa asked cheerfully, appearing behind me with a small bag in her hand.

“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.

As we walked out, Theresa caught the scent of garlic bread wafting from a nearby restaurant. “Oh my god, we have to eat here,” she said, practically drooling.

I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”

We found a small table by the window and placed our orders. The knot in my stomach tightened as I excused myself to go to the restroom.

Inside the stall, my hands trembled as I opened the box. The instructions were simple enough, but my nerves made everything feel harder than it should have been.

Minutes later, I stared at the small screen, holding my breath.

Negative.

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong I had to sit for a moment to steady myself. I tucked the test into the little trash bin and washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

When I returned to the table, Theresa was happily munching on her garlic bread. “This is the best thing ever,” she declared, holding up a piece for emphasis.

I chuckled, sitting back down. “I take it we’re ordering more for the bunker?”

“Absolutely.”

As we ate, the conversation shifted to Sam’s gift. We brainstormed ways to wrap it, deciding on a small box with tissue paper and a handwritten note.

Theresa brought up pregnancy care, casually waving off the concern. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” she said, popping a piece of bread into her mouth.

I nodded, but her nonchalant attitude left me wondering. I made a mental note to look into options for her later.

By the time we left the restaurant, the heavy weight on my chest had eased. Theresa’s joy was infectious, for a moment I let myself believe that maybe just maybe Cas was wrong, that maybe he was just saying what God wanted him to.

Just as we were about to leave the restaurant my phone buzzed dragging me away from our conversation.

“Oh well looks like our plans are on hold” I sighed looking at the text “Dean messaged, apparently the holidays over”

…

 We sat around the war room table, maps and files spread out in front of us as Dean leaned back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers.

“Just got off the phone with Bobby,” Dean said. “He says there’s something weird going down in a little town called Centerville, Pennsylvania. Looks like a couple of demons are running the place, setting up some kind of... meatsuit recruitment drive. At least fourteen people have gone missing after passing through.”

I frowned, leaning forward to study the map of Centerville. “Fourteen? That’s a lot, even for demons. What’s Bobby think they’re planning?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s not sure. Could be they’re stockpiling bodies for something bigger, but whatever it is, we’re gonna shut it down.”

“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sam said, pulling out his notebook and jotting down a few details.

Dean turned to Theresa, his tone firm. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Theresa’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”

“He’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a meaningful look. “You should stay behind, and we’ll call Bobby to come hang out with you.”

Theresa’s confusion mirrored Sam’s as he glanced between us. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Theresa hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small gift box she’d carefully prepared on the way back from town. She slid it across the table toward Sam, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

Sam took the box, his brows furrowing as he opened it. Inside were the baby items we’d picked out: the tiny onesie, a pacifier, and a positive pregnancy test.

For a moment, he just stared, as if his brain needed an extra second to catch up. Then his face broke into a grin so wide it was almost comical. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.

Sam was out of his chair in a second, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, this is incredible!” he said, his voice full of unrestrained joy.

Theresa laughed, hugging him back. “I was gonna tell you last night, but the timing didn’t feel right.”

Dean cleared his throat, his expression softening as he watched the moment. “And that’s why you’re staying behind. No way we’re risking you and the baby out there with demons.”

Sam nodded quickly, turning to Theresa. “Dean’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

Theresa’s smile faltered. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“We know,” I said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. And Bobby will make sure nothing happens here while we’re gone.”

Theresa sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

Within the hour, the Impala was packed, and the three of us hit the road to Pennsylvania. As I settled into the seat beside Dean, I glanced back at Theresa, who stood in the doorway of the bunker, Sam’s arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

We had a job to do, but part of me already couldn’t wait to come back.

…

After what felt like an eternity on the road, we finally rolled into Centerville under the cover of darkness. The town had a strange vibe—quiet, too quiet for a place that had a growing reputation for disappearances.

“Motels are a no-go,” Dean said, scanning the town as we drove through. “Too many eyes.”

Sam pointed to a dilapidated house on the edge of town, its windows boarded up and the lawn overgrown. “That’ll work. Looks abandoned.”

Dean turned the Impala into the dirt driveway, parking beside a rusted shed attached to the house. We all piled out, stretching and shaking off the stiffness from the long drive.

“Hide her in there,” Dean said, nodding toward the shed.

Together, we pushed the Impala inside, closing the rickety doors behind us. The house itself was better than I’d expected, but not by much. The inside smelled like dust and decay, and the floorboards creaked with every step.

“It’s got charm,” I said dryly, earning a snort from Dean.

“We’ll make it work,” Sam said, tossing his bag onto what might have once been a couch. “Let’s head into town, see what we can dig up.”

We cleaned up quickly and headed out, walking toward the town center under the dim glow of streetlights. Centerville looked like any other small town, but something felt... off.

Our investigation eventually led us to a bar that seemed to be the social hub for visitors. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. A pool table sat in the corner, and a jukebox played a classic rock tune that barely drowned out the sound of clinking glasses.

We split up, each taking a different approach to questioning the locals. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, a wiry man with a skeptical gaze.

“Strangers roll through here often?” I asked casually, leaning on the bar.

He shrugged, wiping a glass. “Not much to see in Centerville. Most don’t stick around long.”

“What about the ones who do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”

“Just curious,” I said with a smile, trying to put him at ease.

Eventually, the bartender opened up. He and a couple of locals confirmed they’d seen the same couple hanging around the bar regularly—a man and a woman who had apparently blown into town about a year ago and never left. They’d made themselves at home, which was unusual in a town like this.

Dean joined me at the bar, a cold beer in his hand. “They sound like our demons,” he muttered under his breath.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sam said, appearing behind us. “But it’s definitely worth looking into.”

We stayed a little longer, gathering more details about the mysterious couple before heading back to the abandoned house. The pieces were starting to come together, but we still had more questions than answers.

…

The house was eerily quiet as we settled in for the night. The faint creak of the wind brushing against the boarded-up windows added to the atmosphere. Sam and Dean were in the small, makeshift living room, pouring over maps and the notes we’d scribbled down from the bar. I sat cross-legged on a tattered armchair, watching as they hashed out tomorrow’s plan.

“We need to figure out where they’ve been taking these people,” Sam said, tapping his pen against the map.

Dean grunted. “Yeah, but waltzing into their hideout isn’t exactly easy. They’ve been here a year. They know the lay of the land better than we do.”

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s why we need to split up. Y/N should approach them. Alone.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “No way. Not happening.”

Sam held up a hand. “Hear me out. They’ve been targeting strangers, right? Someone who seems like they don’t have ties. If Y/N plays the part of a solo traveler, it could get them to drop their guard.”

I stayed quiet, letting them argue. Dean’s protectiveness was nothing new, but this was different. His shoulders were tense, his voice edged with something more than frustration—it was fear.

“And what if it’s a trap?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.

“It’s always a trap, Dean,” I said, finally speaking up. “We’re hunters. That’s the job.”

Dean turned to me, his eyes softening but still filled with worry. “I don’t like this.”

“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.

Sam nodded. “We’ll be nearby the whole time. If anything happens, we’ll step in.”

Dean rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But the second anything feels off, you’re out. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

With the plan decided, we started preparing for the next day. I packed a small bag with essentials—my knife, a flask of holy water, and a few other tools of the trade. Dean handed me an emergency burner phone, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary.

“Use it the second something goes wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Promise,” I replied.

As the night wore on, we all settled into our makeshift sleeping arrangements. Dean and I took the slightly less destroyed bedroom, though the mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired. Sam claimed the couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the edge.

Lying next to Dean in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off him. His breathing was steady, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for him tonight.

“Dean,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand reached out, finding mine in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know”

…

The plan was in motion the moment I stepped into the bar. The air smelled of stale beer and desperation, a fitting backdrop for what I was about to do. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I took a seat at the counter, making sure to appear as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My eyes darted around briefly, taking in the patrons. I spotted Sam a few minutes later, casually perched at the opposite end of the bar, his head down like he was nursing a bad day. Dean, much to his displeasure, was waiting outside in the Impala, ready to spring into action.

The bar door creaked open, and in walked the couple. Even without seeing their eyes flash black, I knew. The energy around them was unmistakable—dark, predatory. They carried themselves with the confidence of predators circling their prey.

I felt their gazes lock onto me almost immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I picked up my drink and took a casual sip, pretending not to notice them as they approached.

The man slid onto the stool to my right, the woman to my left, effectively boxing me in. “Well, hey there,” the man said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent that made my skin crawl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

I turned my head slightly, giving him a small, shy smile. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The woman leaned in, her perfume almost choking me. “Passing through? Someone like you must have places to be, people to see.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just… trying to figure out where I’m going next.”

“Perfect,” the man said, his grin widening. “We might be able to help with that. You see, my partner and I—” he gestured to the woman with a nod “—work for a modeling agency. Talent scouts. And, well…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “You’ve got the look.”

My stomach churned, but I forced a surprised laugh. “Me? Modeling? I don’t know…”

The woman placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold despite the warmth of the bar. “You’ve got it, trust me. We’ve got a studio just outside town. Free shoot, no strings attached. Just to see if you’d be a good fit.”

I hesitated, playing my part. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” the man said, his tone dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Fresh faces. Untapped potential.”

I looked between them, feigning a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Alright. Why not?”

The woman clapped her hands together, her smile too wide. “Fantastic. Let’s head out.”

I glanced toward the exit briefly, knowing Dean was just outside, then picked up my bag and followed them out of the bar. As we walked to their car, I caught Sam’s reflection in the bar mirror. His jaw was tight, his fingers twitching, ready to act if needed.

The couple led me to a black sedan parked a few spaces away. The man opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.

I climbed in, clutching my bag tightly. The moment the door shut, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, and I forced myself to focus. This was just the beginning. Dean and Sam wouldn’t be far. Whatever came next, I wasn’t alone—even if I had to act like I was.

I sat in the back of the black sedan, watching as the town disappeared behind us. The ride was long, the demons making small talk, keeping up their act as professional talent scouts. I played along, feigning excitement and nervousness, while my mind stayed focused on the mission.

The farmhouse they took me to was beautiful, the kind of place that would make anyone believe this was a legitimate opportunity. Inside, they led me to a professional-looking studio, complete with backdrops, bright lights, and a rack of designer clothes.

For two hours, they ran the whole con—switching my outfits, styling my hair, touching up my makeup. They directed me through various poses, snapping pictures as if this was just another day in the life of a budding model. It was almost impressive how much effort they put into the charade. Almost.

At the end of it, they smiled, nodding approvingly.

“You’re perfect,” the woman cooed, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Absolutely,” the man agreed. “We’ll put you up for the night, and first thing in the morning, someone will take you to New York to sign the contracts.”

I widened my eyes in fake excitement. “Really? Oh my god, this is insane!”

The woman smiled. “I know. You’ll be a star.”

They led me to a cozy-looking bedroom, complete with a plush bed and a window overlooking the fields. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dropped the act.

I moved cautiously, making sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Dean and Sam.

Demons running a long con. Getting people out of town with the modeling scam. They plan to move me to NYC in the morning. No sign of the other victims yet. What’s the plan?

Dean’s reply was almost instant.

We’re pulling you out. Letting Bobby know their next stop. Sit tight. We’re coming.

I let out a slow breath. Good. I had no doubt they’d come for me, but still, something in my gut felt off.

…

Dean and Sam broke into the house as quietly as possible. The plan was simple—get in, take the demons by surprise, and get out before anyone knew what hit them.

But something went wrong.

I heard the scuffle from my room—the heavy thuds of bodies colliding, the crash of furniture breaking. My heart pounded as I cracked the door open just in time to see Sam wrestling the female demon, chanting an exorcism.

And then I saw Dean.

Or rather, I saw the way his body jerked unnaturally, his back arching as the male demon forced its way inside him. His green eyes flashed black.

My breath caught in my throat. “No.”

He turned his head slowly, those black eyes locking onto me with a cruel smirk. “Well, well,” the demon purred, rolling Dean’s shoulders like he was settling into a new suit. “This is… cozy.”

“Dean.” My voice shook. “I know you’re in there. You have to fight it.”

The demon laughed, stepping closer. “Oh sweetheart, he’s fighting all right. But he won’t win.”

Sam had finished his exorcism, the female demon shrieking as she burned away. Now he turned to me, panic in his eyes.

“Y/N, get back!”

But I couldn’t move. Not when Dean’s possessed body lunged at me.

I barely had time to react before I was pinned against his chest, held between Dean and Sam. Deans hunting knife was held to my throat. I was looking at Sam as tears pricked my eyes.

I gasped, clawing at his wrist, my heart hammering. “Dean,” I choked out. “Please… you can fight this.”

His grip faltered for the briefest second, his expression twisting in pain. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice broke through, hoarse and strained.

The demon snarled, trying to regain control, but I felt the flicker of resistance in Dean’s arms.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his whole body shaking as he fought the demon inside him. Then, with an agonized roar, his head snapped back, and a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from his mouth, disappearing through the nearest vent.

Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

I didn’t hesitate. I dropped down beside him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “I thought I was gonna lose you,” I sobbed, clutching onto him like he might disappear.

He exhaled shakily, his arms circling me just as tightly. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

…

Back at the abandoned house, we packed up in silence, the weight of the failed hunt pressing down on us.

Sam was on the phone with Bobby, explaining what had happened, his voice tight with frustration. “One got away… Yeah, we’ll head back to the bunker…can we talk about this later”

I sat in the Impala, my hands still trembling slightly. The reality of what had happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Dean had almost—

I shook my head, shutting the thought down. He was here. He was okay.

Dean slid into the backseat beside me, pulling me against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well. Watching you get possessed kinda does that to a girl.”

His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as the Impala rumbled to life.

The road stretched ahead of us, a long 17 hours back to the bunker. But for now, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that, at least for the moment, we were safe.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 16

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings MDNI 18+ unprotect p in v, oral F recieving

Authors Note: I'm terrible at writing 18+ content so sorry in advance.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

By the time I got back to the bunker, the plastic bags were digging into my hands, and my mind was still spinning from what Cas had said. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter.

The bunker was quiet as usual, save for the faint sound of metal clicking in the lounge room. I peeked in to see Dean sitting on the couch, a gun laid out in front of him as he cleaned it with practiced ease. His bandaged hand moved a little slower than usual, but he didn’t seem to care.

As I started unpacking the bags, I felt his eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard the soft scrape of the gun being set down on the table.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Dean asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

I froze for a moment, my hands still on a carton of eggs. “What do you mean?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. “I know that look. Something’s weighing on you. What happened?”

I sighed, abandoning the act. There was no point in trying to hide it from Dean—he could always see right through me. I turned to face him, leaning against the counter.

“Cas came to see me,” I said quietly.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from curiosity to something darker. “What did he say?”

I hesitated, but then the words came spilling out—the whole conversation, God’s so-called plan, and how we were apparently breaking it. By the time I finished, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, though I blinked them back.

Dean stood up, pacing a few steps before turning to face me, his green eyes sharp. “You can’t listen to a word Cas says about that crap. He’s been too close to God’s playbook for too long—he doesn’t get it. We’re not pawns, Y/N. Not you, not me.”

“But if we’re really screwing up some grand plan—”

“I don’t give a damn about his plan,” Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “I care about you. About us. Whatever comes at us, we’ll handle it. Together.”

I looked at him, his determination so unwavering that it made some of the tension in my chest ease.

Dean must have noticed, because his tone softened as he added, “Look, Sam and Theresa are out on their date night. Maybe we should have one too.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite myself. “A date night? In the bunker?”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, his usual cocky grin starting to appear. “I’ll grab some beers, we’ll put on a movie, and it’ll be just as good as anything those two are doing.”

I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a tray of ground beef. “How about we start with this? I make a killer burger.”

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, sweetheart, if your burgers are half as good as your chili, I’m sold.”

“Are you really still going on about my chilli all these months later?”

I laughed softly, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to make these every week.”

As I started pulling out spices and ingredients, Dean moved closer, grabbing a cutting board and a knife. “Alright, chef, tell me what to do.”

“Step one,” I teased. “Don’t get in my way.”

Dean chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a little while, the kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling meat and lighthearted banter, the weight of Cas’s words temporarily pushed aside. And for now, that was enough.

…

The smell of freshly cooked burgers filled the bunker as Dean and I settled on the couch, plates balanced on our laps. The Nightmare Before Christmas was playing on the TV, and I couldn’t help but hum along to the opening song between bites.

Christmas was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark of excitement. I glanced over at Dean, who was completely focused on his burger, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we should really do something for Christmas this year.”

Dean arched an eyebrow at me, chewing thoughtfully. “Like what?”

I grinned. “The whole shebang! Christmas shopping with Sam and Theresa, decorating the bunker, cooking a huge lunch—turkey, ham, roast veggies, all of it. Eggnog, gingerbread, maybe even one of those cheesy holiday movies Sam secretly loves.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheesy holiday movies, huh? Can’t wait to see Sam squirm through that.”

“Exactly!” I said, my excitement growing. “It could be fun, Dean. We’ve never really done Christmas right, you know? Not like this.”

Dean tilted his head, his smile softening as he watched me ramble on. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

“Not yet,” I admitted, taking another bite of my burger. “But I will. I was thinking about dragging Sam and Theresa out to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow. There’s gotta be a few stores still decked out with trees and lights. We could pick up some decorations for the bunker.”

Dean shook his head, his grin turning into a smirk. “Decorating the bunker? You do realize this place isn’t exactly a Hallmark set, right?”

“That’s the point,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “It needs some holiday magic. Imagine it—twinkling lights in the library, a tree in the corner, stockings hung up in the war room.”

Dean let out a small laugh, shaking his head again, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at me, his expression softer now. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“I am,” I admitted, glancing back at the TV as Jack Skellington started singing about Christmas Town. “I just think we deserve to have something nice, you know? After everything.”

Dean didn’t respond right away, and when I looked over, he was staring at me, his burger forgotten on his plate.

“What?” I asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low. “Just... you’re really something when you’re excited like this.”

My cheeks warmed, and I quickly turned back to the screen, trying to hide my smile.

Dean might not have been entirely convinced about the Christmas spirit, but I could tell he didn’t mind indulging me. And for now, that was enough.

…

The plates were abandoned on the coffee table, the remains of our impromptu dinner forgotten as Dean and I found ourselves tangled up in each other once more. His lips on mine, the warmth of his touch—it was all-consuming, electric.

Dean grabbed my hand and lead me to his room, the world outside the door fading away as we gave ourselves over to each other completely. He freed me from my clothes, allowing his hands to trace each inch of skin that was revealed to him. Once he had me completely nakes he pushed me gently onto his bed, hovering above me. He connected our lips in a hungry kiss, stealing my breath away. He kissed slowly from my neck down to my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth sucking and licking before moving on to the next. I bit down on my lip to keep from being loud.

“It’s just us here sweetheart no need to be quiet” Dean looked up at me like a man starved of touch.

He returned to my breasts earning a breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my nipple as he kissed in and moved on to kiss down my stomach. He reached the place I needed him most. He spread my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing them out to the sides opening me up in front of him. He licked his lips before placing a soft kiss on the sensitive bud waiting for his attention.

“If you want me to stop just say so” Dean looked up at me. I mustered up small nod before looking off to the side now embarrassed to be naked in front of Dean while he was still completely clothed.

Dean made himself comfortable between my legs before placing my legs over his shoulders. He licked one line up my folds causing me to shake and let out a small squeal mixed with a moan. He immediately went to work licking and sucking at my clit causing my back to arch. The moan that escaped my lips was nothing short of pornographic. Dean knew what he was doing with his tongue and mouth. And he knew it. I could feel the smirk that was plastered on his face. I could feel the heat building in my belly.

“D..Dean I’m going to…” The band tightening in my belly snapped before I could saying anything more. I could feel my legs shaking. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure wash over as Dean worked me through it.

Dean stood up and told me to move up the bed as he pulled his shirt off. I wriggled up the bed not taking my eyes of Dean, wanting to see every part of him. As he pulled down his pants his dick now free from its denim cage sprung up and smacked his stomach. I was far from a virgin but never had I seen a dick so long and thick as his. I was sure he was going to break me. Dean, however, quickly ruined the moment when he hit the ground with a crash as he tried to remove his boots. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. He gave me a cheesy grin from the floor as he got his boots and jeans off. Once he was completely stripped he climbed onto the bed taking his place in between my legs.

“Just remember if you want me to stop…”

“Just say so I know” I smiled up at him.

Dean dipped his head, capture my lips in a kiss full of love. While I was distracted by his lips he took the chance to sneak a hand between us and guide himself into me. The sudden stretch caused me to gasp, throwing my head back onto Deans pillows. Dean stilled once he was completely inside giving me a chance to adjust. But now being in this position I froze up. I think Dean could feel something was wrong. He leaned down and kissed me. The movement caused him to move inside me sending an intense feeling of pleasure ripping through me. I moaned into his mouth as he began to move. Slowly at first but soon he began to move faster. Soon he had my legs up over his shoulders as he found that one spot deep inside me that he hit with precision with each thrust of his hips. Before I knew it I was a babbling mess under his as my release hit me for the second time. Deans movements became sloppy and I felt his hips come to a stuttering holt as his own release washed over him.

 The way he held me, whispered my name like it was the only thing that mattered—it was as though all the tension, all the fear and doubt, had melted into something softer, something unbreakable.

Afterward, I lay against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily trailed up and down my arm, a comforting gesture that made me feel safe, grounded.

“Never thought we’d get here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Yeah, well... guess the universe finally got something right.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. “Let’s not jinx it.”

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Not a chance.”

Before long, the comforting rise and fall of his chest lulled me into sleep.

A sound startled me awake—a flutter of wings that sent my heart racing. My eyes flew open to see Castiel standing at the foot of the bed, his expression a mix of disappointment and worry.

“Cas,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with sleep. Dean didn’t stir beside me, and I turned to him in confusion.

“He won’t wake,” Cas said flatly, his gaze steady on me. “I’ve ensured it.”

My stomach twisted at his words. “What do you want?”

Cas stepped closer, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. And I’m scared.”

“Scared?” I echoed, sitting up carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t bear the thought of seeing my daughter or my granddaughters hurt,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

I froze, the words crashing over me like cold water. “Your what?”

Cas sighed, his usual stoicism faltering. “When you were born, you were dead. There was no life in you. Your parents prayed, begged for a miracle... and I answered. I gave you part of my grace to save you, Y/N. You are my daughter—a Nephilim.”

The world tilted on its axis, and I stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said. “I’m... I’m a Nephilim?”

“That is why you heal so quickly,” Cas explained, his tone measured but soft. “It’s also why God’s plans have been so... complicated where you and Dean are concerned.”

“But the granddaughters—”

“You’re pregnant,” Cas interrupted, his voice low. “With identical twin girls.”

My breath caught, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. “That’s not possible. I can’t—”

Cas held up a hand. “You can. And you are.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know what’s at stake,” Cas said, his tone firm now. “And because... I’ve said too much already.”

Before I could say another word, he vanished, leaving only the faint sound of wings in his wake.

“Cas?” Dean’s groggy voice broke the silence, and I turned to see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “I heard him. Where is he?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The weight of Cas’s revelations had left me rooted to the spot. Dean frowned, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I stared at him, wondering how I was supposed to tell him what I’d just learned.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 15

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings child emotional abuse, panic attack mentioned and described. The mentioned situation is based on my own personal experience with an abusive father and the resulting trauma I have dealt with because of it. I apologise if I trigger anyone.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I woke up in Dean’s bed, the sheets tangled around me. The room was still, bathed in the faint glow of the bedside lamp Dean must’ve left on. A glance at the clock told me it was barely 4 a.m. The bunker was silent, its usual hum somehow comforting.

The other side of the bed was empty, untouched, which wasn’t surprising. Memories of last night came flooding back, and I winced. I rubbed at my tired eyes and slid out of bed, pulling on a hoodie to chase off the chill in the air.

Wandering out into the hallway, I found myself in the lounge room. Dean was sprawled out on the couch, his head tilted at an awkward angle, his legs too long to fit comfortably. His hand, now wrapped in a haphazard bandage, rested on his chest. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, and he looked... exhausted.

My heart ached at the sight of him. I wanted to curl up beside him, let him hold me, but the fear from last night lingered. Instead, I backed away quietly and headed for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a granola bar. I leaned against the counter, nibbling at the snack while the weight of everything settled over me. The bunker felt so much bigger when it was this quiet, like the walls were pressing in on me.

Eventually, I wandered to the library. The familiar scent of old books calmed me as I browsed the shelves, running my fingers over the spines until I found a stack of hunters' journals. One caught my eye—its leather cover worn and cracked. I grabbed it, found a cozy armchair, and curled up with it.

Before I knew it, hours had passed. The journal had drawn me in, its pages filled with stories of hunts, danger, and survival. I hadn’t even noticed the time until Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“Y/N?”

I looked up to find him standing in the doorway, his expression cautious. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, his eyes heavy with guilt and worry.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know... I hate that I hurt you. If I’d known—if I’d understood—I never would’ve snapped at you.”

I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice to respond. He seemed to take it as permission to leave, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to go.

When he left, I sat there for a while, staring at the journal without really reading it. His words echoed in my mind, mixing with the lingering memories of his anger and the pain I knew he was carrying.

Finally, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. Dean was at the sink, awkwardly trying to clean his bandaged hand. He cursed under his breath when the wrap started to unravel.

“Here,” I said softly, stepping up beside him.

He froze, turning to look at me, his green eyes wide with surprise.

“Let me,” I murmured, taking his hand gently in mine.

I unwrapped the poorly done bandage and winced at the angry red marks on his knuckles. Grabbing the first aid kit from the counter, I cleaned the cuts carefully, my touch as light as possible. Dean didn’t say a word, but I felt his gaze on me the entire time.

Once I had his hand rewrapped, I finally broke the silence. “Dean... I love you,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “And I want to forgive you. But first, I need to know... what did Cas say to you?”

Dean stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, looking down at his freshly bandaged hand.

“Cas told me that God’s furious with us,” he said quietly. “He thinks we’re ruining his plans. And now... he’s decided that if we don’t stop, he’ll find a way to keep us apart. Even if it means killing one of us.”

My stomach dropped, and I felt my knees go weak. “Killing one of us?” I whispered.

Dean nodded, his eyes dark with pain and determination. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting him win. I’m not letting him take you from me.”

The conviction in his voice was enough to steady me, at least for now. I reached up, cupping his cheek with my hand. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Dean covered my hand with his, leaning into my touch. “Together,” he echoed.

After everything that had happened, I needed some air, some space to think without the weight of the bunker pressing down on me. I decided to head out to the local shops to grab groceries. It was a simple excuse to clear my head, but I needed it.

Dean had offered to come with me, his tone hesitant, almost pleading, but I shook my head. “I’ll be fine,” I’d said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He didn’t argue, just watched me leave with a look that made my chest ache.

The grocery store was quiet, the kind of stillness I usually found comforting. I wandered the aisles with a cart, tossing in staples: bread, milk, eggs. The normalcy of it was grounding, pulling me out of my own head, if only a little.

I was reaching for a can of soup when I heard it—the distinct flutter of wings that sent a chill down my spine.

Turning sharply, I found Castiel standing at the end of the aisle, his trench coat looking as rumpled as ever. His expression was serious, his blue eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place.

“Cas,” I said, my voice low but steady. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on mine. “I came to warn you, Y/N.”

“Warn me about what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“You need to leave Dean,” he said, his tone urgent but firm.

The words hit me like a slap, and anger flared in my chest. “Excuse me?”

“It’s for his own good,” Cas insisted. “For both of you.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice louder now. A couple of shoppers glanced at me before hurrying away, sensing the tension. “You don’t get to waltz in here and tell me to leave him. Not after everything.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone softening but still desperate. “God’s plan was never for you and Dean to be together.”

“Then what was his plan?” I demanded, my hands trembling with rage. “Why did he put me in Dean’s life if I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Cas hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You were meant to be something Dean could never have. A reminder of what he’d lose if he strayed from his path. Your presence was intended to keep him focused on hunting, on defeating the darkness. The anger and frustration of not being able to have you... that was meant to drive him, to help him defeat the devil.”

The words left me stunned, my mind reeling. “So I’m just... what? A tool? A pawn in some divine chess game?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Cas said, his voice almost apologetic. “It’s God’s plan. And now that you and Dean are together... you’re deviating from it. That deviation could have catastrophic consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Catastrophic for who? For God? For his ego?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Cas,” I cut him off, my voice trembling with both anger and pain. “I don’t care what God’s plan was. Dean and I—what we have—it’s real. And I’m not walking away from it because some self-righteous deity thinks he knows what’s best.”

Cas’s shoulders slumped further, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly. “For both your sakes.”

With that, the sound of wings filled the air again, and he was gone.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding and my hands gripping the cart so tightly my knuckles turned white. The fluorescent lights of the grocery store felt harsh, almost unreal.

After a long, shaky breath, I turned back to the shelves, tossing the can of soup into the cart. I wasn’t about to let God or Cas or anyone else decide my life for me. Dean and I would figure this out—together.

And if that meant defying God’s plan? So be it.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Master list

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20 Finale

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 14

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings child emotional abuse, panic attack mentioned and described. The mentioned situation is based on my own personal experience with an abusive father and the resulting trauma I have dealt with because of it. I apologise if I trigger anyone.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The road stretched out before us, the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine filling the silence as Dean drove. The morning had started with an unsettling quietness. Dean had showered, dressed, packed his bag, and headed to the car without a word. It wasn’t like him to be so distant, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him as the miles passed. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the road, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

In the backseat, Sam and Theresa exchanged worried looks. Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet too, his eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror to study his brother. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Dean,” Sam said gently, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been quiet all morning. What’s going on?”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine, Sammy,” he said curtly, his voice flat and distant.

“You don’t seem fine,” Theresa chimed in, her tone cautious. “If something’s bothering you, we can talk about it.”

Dean didn’t respond, his focus remaining firmly on the road.

“Dean—” Sam started again, but Dean cut him off sharply.

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge that made everyone in the car go silent.

I glanced at him, my heart sinking at the sight of the storm brewing behind his eyes. Whatever was eating at him, it was bad. I reached out tentatively, placing my hand lightly on his arm, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

The rest of the drive to the bunker was oppressively quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sam sat back in his seat, arms crossed, his concern evident even in his silence. Theresa stared out the window, her expression thoughtful but uneasy.

And Dean? He just kept driving, his knuckles white, his eyes hard, and his thoughts a million miles away.

The Impala pulled into the bunker’s garage with a low growl, and before the engine had even stopped completely, Dean was out of the car. The slam of the driver’s door echoed through the space as he stormed off, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete floor.

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at me with a mix of sympathy and apology. “Give him some time,” he said quietly. “Whatever’s eating at him, he’ll talk when he’s ready.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. Dean’s silence on the drive had been bad enough, but the anger radiating off him now was something else entirely.

“Come on,” Sam said, gesturing for me to follow. “I’ll show you to his room so you can put your stuff away.”

Dean’s room was small but surprisingly neat—though still distinctly Dean. The faint scent of leather and whiskey lingered, and the shelves were lined with books and trinkets he’d picked up over the years. I placed my bag on the bed, my fingers lingering on the worn fabric of his blanket, and tried to shake off the unease.

“Theresa’s already explored every inch of this place” Sam said, pulling me from my thoughts. “She’ll want to show you around.”

He was right. Theresa was waiting just outside the room, a cheerful smile on her face despite the tension hanging over the group. “Ready for the grand tour?” she asked.

I followed her through the bunker, trying to focus on her enthusiastic explanations. She showed me the library, where rows of dusty bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, and the garage, where the Impala now sat alongside other vehicles. She pointed out her and Sam’s room, the spare rooms, and the arsenal, where weapons of every kind were meticulously organized.

The lounge room had a couple of mismatched couches and a large table littered with papers and beer bottles, and the kitchen—well, that’s where I found him.

Dean was leaning against the counter, beer in hand, staring at nothing in particular. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was set in a hard line.

Theresa paused, sensing the shift in the air. “I’ll, uh, leave you two alone,” she said softly, backing out of the room.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. My heart ached at the sight of him like this, clearly battling something he wasn’t ready to share. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his back.

“Dean,” I said gently, my voice barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, without warning, he shoved my arms away and turned to face me, his eyes blazing.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, his voice rising with every word. “What’s wrong is that every time I turn around, there’s someone breathing down my neck! Asking me if I’m okay, if I’m fine, if I’m gonna talk about my damn feelings!”

I stepped back, startled by the sudden outburst. “Dean, I just—”

“You just what?” he snapped, cutting me off. “You think wrapping your arms around me is gonna fix whatever this is? You think you can just ask me what’s wrong and magically make it better?”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt my chest tighten. My voice cracked as I tried to reply. “I just wanted to help…”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. “Well, maybe I don’t want your help! Maybe I just need everyone to back the hell off!”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I took another step back, my legs trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

But I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up, and the fear creeping into my chest overwhelmed me. I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing down the hallway as I fled the kitchen.

Behind me, I thought I heard Dean call my name, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was far enough away that the lump in my throat started to ease and I could breathe again.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

As soon as I heard her footsteps retreating, I knew I’d screwed up—big time.

“Y/N!” I called after her, but there was no response. Just the echo of her running down the hall, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

“Dammit!” I growled, slamming my fist into the counter. Pain shot through my hand instantly, sharp and biting, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the guilt eating me alive. Blood welled up from my knuckles, and I swore under my breath, heading for the sink.

I turned on the cold water and shoved my hand under it, wincing as the sting hit me. The red swirled down the drain, but it didn’t take away the mess I’d just made. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t get the image of her face out of my head—the way she looked at me, scared out of her mind. I’d done that. I’d done that.

“You’re an idiot,” Theresa’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and unforgiving.

I didn’t even turn around right away. She was right. I was an idiot. “I know,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the water.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped, and I could feel her glare boring into my back. “If you did, you wouldn’t have just blown up at her like that.”

I finally turned, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” Theresa interrupted, her tone like a whip. “To scare her? To make her feel like she’s back in that house where every day was a screaming match?”

Her words hit me like a freight train. “What are you talking about?” I asked, though part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Theresa crossed her arms, staring me down like I was the biggest idiot on the planet. “Y/N grew up in a house where her parents screamed at each other all the time. And when her dad wasn’t yelling at her mom, he was yelling at her. Over nothing. Over stupid crap that wasn’t even her fault.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally, I managed, “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Theresa said, her voice softer now but still firm. “She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want anyone to know. But now, thanks to your little outburst, she’s probably somewhere having a full-blown panic attack, thinking she’s back in that hellhole.”

I closed my eyes, running my free hand over my face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I said quietly, my voice cracking more than I wanted it to.

“Well, you did,” Theresa shot back. “And it’s gonna take time for her to trust you again. You can’t just fix this by saying you’re sorry and hoping it’ll all blow over.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” I asked, my voice desperate.

Theresa sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. “You give her space, Dean. You let her breathe. And when she’s ready, you apologize the right way. No excuses, no ‘I didn’t mean to.’ Just own up to it.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My hand throbbed under the water, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except fixing this.

Theresa started to walk away but stopped at the door. “Dean, she cares about you. A lot. But you’ve gotta be careful with her. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not invincible.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady drip of blood swirling down the drain.

I stared at my busted hand, jaw tight as I made a silent promise: I’d fix this. No matter how long it took or what I had to do, I’d make it right.

…

Y/N's P.O.V

I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor in the library. My chest was tight, my breath coming in shallow gasps as sobs wracked my body. Desperate for some semblance of safety, I crawled under one of the large wooden tables and curled up, hugging my knees to my chest.

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the echoes of Dean’s voice in my head—loud, sharp, and angry. Every word cut deeper than the last, dredging up memories I tried so hard to bury.

I didn’t even notice Sam until I saw his boots beside the table. Slowly, he crouched down and settled onto the floor, keeping a careful distance.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing, like he was afraid to startle me. “I saw you run, and I... I heard what Dean said.”

I buried my face against my knees, too ashamed and overwhelmed to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam continued, his voice full of sincerity. “For whatever’s going on with Dean, for what he said to you. He’s an idiot sometimes, and he doesn’t know how to handle his own crap, let alone anyone else’s.”

His words made me cry harder, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to do. After a moment, I felt his hand brush against my shoulder, but I flinched instinctively, shrinking back further into the shadows under the table.

Sam pulled his hand back immediately, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave you alone. Just... come find me if you need anything, okay?”

“No,” I croaked, my voice shaky and barely audible. “Please... don’t leave me.”

He froze for a second, then nodded, even though I wasn’t looking at him. “Okay,” he said softly. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Sam stayed there, sitting silently on the floor beside me. He didn’t say another word, didn’t try to touch me again. He just waited, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Eventually, the sobs slowed, and my breathing evened out. Exhaustion pulled me under, and I drifted into a restless sleep, still tucked under the table like a scared child.

…

Sam’s P.O.V

Y/N’s hiccupping sobs had finally quieted. Her breathing was steady now, the tear-streaked tension on her face replaced by exhaustion. She’d fallen asleep, curled up under the table like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

Careful not to wake her, I reached under and gently scooped her into my arms. She was lighter than I expected, and the way she shifted against me made my chest ache. Whatever Dean had said—or done—had clearly hit her harder than I realized.

I carried her through the dimly lit halls of the bunker, moving as quietly as I could. When I rounded a corner, I stopped short. Dean was standing there, leaning against the wall, his hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage. His eyes widened when he saw me holding Y/N.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

I glared at him, keeping my voice low. “She ran, Dean. She ran and cried herself to sleep under a damn table because of you.”

His face crumpled, guilt washing over him. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Doesn’t matter what you meant,” I shot back, though my tone softened at the sight of his obvious regret. “You need to fix this.”

Dean stepped forward, holding out his arms. “I’ll take her.”

I hesitated, my protective instincts flaring. “Don’t wake her up, Dean. She’s had enough for one day.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice low and solemn.

After a moment, I handed her over. Dean cradled her carefully, like she was something fragile, and I watched as he carried her toward their room.

…

Dean’s P.O.V

Holding her in my arms felt like both a privilege and a punishment. She was so quiet, her face still streaked with dried tears, and I hated myself for putting her through this.

I walked into our room, pushing the door open with my foot. The bed was still unmade from earlier, and I laid her down as gently as I could. She stirred for a moment, a soft whimper escaping her lips, before curling into a tight ball on her side.

It broke me.

I stood there, staring at her for what felt like forever. Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to sit beside her and tell her how sorry I was, to make her believe it. But I knew better. She needed space, and right now, I was the last person she needed around.

With a heavy heart, I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and left the room, closing the door behind me.

The lounge room couch was cold and uncomfortable, but I didn’t deserve anything better. Not tonight. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, her quiet whimper echoed in my mind, and I made a silent vow to myself.

Whatever it took, I’d make this right.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Night had settled, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Dean and I lay tangled together in his bed, the dim light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of leather and gun oil mingled with the faint crispness of the night air wafting through the open window.

Dean was propped up on one elbow, his other arm draped casually across my waist. His fingers idly traced patterns on my hip as we talked about the plan for the next day. Sam had found another hunt—something about a possible poltergeist in Kansas—and we’d decided to hit the road first thing in the morning.

“Back to business as usual, huh?” I murmured, my voice low to match the stillness of the night.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, except now I’ve got you riding shotgun and no excuses to pretend I don’t want you there.”

I chuckled softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Better not make me regret it, Winchester.”

His hand paused for a moment, then he tipped his head down to kiss my forehead. “Not a chance.”

The quiet that followed was comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. I was just about to close my eyes when the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings filled the room.

Dean and I both sat bolt upright, and there, at the foot of the bed, stood Castiel. His piercing blue eyes flicked between us, and his brow furrowed deeply, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with what could only be described as confusion—and maybe a hint of disapproval.

“You’re in the same bed,” Castiel said, his tone blunt and unfiltered, as always. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Cas, seriously? You ever heard of knocking? Or I don’t know, not teleporting into people’s bedrooms?”

Castiel ignored him, his gaze fixed on me now, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’ve been speaking with God,” he said gravely, “and He is… displeased.”

That got Dean’s attention. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up, his voice laced with irritation. “Displeased about what, exactly?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, his trench coat rustling as he crossed his arms. “You and Y/N,” he said simply. “You are disrupting His plans.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up. “Disrupting His plans? What does that even mean?”

Cas took a step closer, his expression more serious than usual. “God’s plan for you, Dean, and for you, Y/N, did not involve this... union.” He gestured vaguely at the bed, as though the sight of us there was evidence enough. “Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that God’s got a problem with me finally being happy? That’s rich, Cas. Real rich.”

“It’s not about happiness,” Cas replied, his tone more urgent now. “It’s about purpose. Your paths were meant to remain parallel, not intersect.”

Dean scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, squaring off with the angel. “Yeah, well, maybe God’s plans suck, Cas. Ever think of that? Maybe we’re done playing by His rules.”

Cas tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “You would defy God’s will for this?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he glanced back at me before answering. “For her? Yeah, I would.”

The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood up beside him, crossing my arms as I faced Cas. “If we’re ruining God’s plans, maybe it’s because they weren’t the right ones to begin with.”

Cas regarded us both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a rare and almost human sound. “You’re treading dangerous ground,” he warned. “God does not take kindly to deviations.”

Dean stepped closer, his voice firm. “Tell Him we’re not His puppets. If He’s got a problem, He knows where to find me.”

Cas looked at him, then at me, a flicker of something—doubt? Worry?—crossing his face. Without another word, he disappeared in a rustle of wings, leaving us standing there in the quiet room.

Dean turned to me, his hand finding mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Are you?”

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Cas can tell God whatever he wants. You and me? That’s the plan I’m sticking to.”

I smiled despite the lingering unease. Whatever storm was brewing, we’d face it together.

The next morning, the Impala roared to life, the familiar rumble filling the air as we hit the road toward Kansas. Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his movements effortless as he navigated the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Sam was in the backseat, a stack of papers balanced on his lap as he rattled off details about the case. “Any family that moves in moves back out again within about a month—objects moving on their own, cold spots, and what sounds like footsteps in the attic. A couple of classic poltergeist markers. No deaths so far.”

Theresa leaned against the window, arms crossed, nodding along. “And you’re sure it’s not just residual energy? Last time, we wasted a whole day on what turned out to be a faulty HVAC system.”

Sam shot her a look. “Pretty sure. There’s also been some whispering voices and a mirror shattering. That’s not exactly a draft.”

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing scenery, barely listening. Castiel’s words from the night before kept echoing in my mind: Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design. I tried to push it away, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Dean’s voice pulled me out of my spiral. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I blinked, glancing over at him. His green eyes flicked from the road to me, concern etched into his expression. He’d always had a way of seeing right through me, even when I tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been quiet. And not the good kind of quiet—like, something’s on your mind kind of quiet.”

Theresa leaned forward slightly from the back, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve been zoning out since we left Bobby’s. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Sam and Theresa before looking at Dean. “It’s nothing,” I said finally, but my voice lacked conviction.

Dean’s hand shifted on the wheel, his knuckles brushing against mine in a brief but grounding touch. “If it’s nothing, why are you chewing on it like it’s gonna bite back?”

Sam sighed from the back, folding the papers in his hands. “This about Castiel?” Dean asked.

I tensed, and Dean’s jaw tightened. “Cas? What about him?” Sam asked.

I exhaled, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s just… what he said last night. About us messing up God’s plans.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, God’s plans haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows, have they? You think I care what He thinks about us?”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it’s not that simple, Dean. What if—”

Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “No. There’s no ‘what if.’ You and me? That’s not up for debate. Not for God, not for Cas, not for anyone.”

Theresa leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not exactly Team God either, but maybe there’s something to it. If Cas thinks it’s important enough to show up, it’s worth considering.”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah, well, considering doesn’t mean worrying yourself sick over it. Cas said his piece, and we said ours. End of story.”

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I get where you’re coming from, Y/N. But Dean’s right—God’s plans haven’t exactly worked out for us in the past. Maybe it’s time we make our own.”

I looked out the window again, the Kansas plains stretching endlessly before us. Dean’s hand reached over, resting briefly on my knee.

“You’re with me, right?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. “Always.”

He smiled, and for a moment, the weight of Castiel’s words seemed lighter. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t facing it alone.

The motel room was as bland as they came—beige walls, worn-out carpet, and a bed that creaked if you so much as breathed wrong. But after a long day of nothing but mold inspections and realizing the supposed "haunting" was a total bust, it felt like a luxury. The air still carried a faint scent of bleach from when housekeeping had gone over the room earlier, but at least it was clean.

Sam and Theresa had decided to make the most of the free evening, heading out to a local diner that Sam had claimed made "the best pie in Kansas." Dean had scoffed at the idea of any pie being better than the ones at a certain diner three states over, but he didn’t argue when Sam handed him the room key and said they’d be back later.

Dean and I had opted to stay in, the lure of a quiet night too tempting after the day’s events. Now, we were curled up in bed, the flickering glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Dean had one arm around me, his other hand resting lazily on the remote as he channel-surfed through a lineup of mostly forgettable shows.

“Is it just me,” he murmured, “or is TV getting worse?”

I mumbled something incoherent in response, half-asleep against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing, combined with the low hum of the TV, had lulled me into a state of complete relaxation. My hand rested lightly on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Dean glanced down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re not gonna weigh in on the great TV debate, huh?”

I didn’t answer, already lost to sleep. Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my shoulder as he turned his attention back to the screen. Some old western was playing, the kind with over-the-top gunfights and dramatic music. It wasn’t exactly gripping, but it was enough to keep him entertained.

The room was peaceful, the kind of quiet that rarely came in our line of work. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling the rare comfort of contentment as he listened to my soft, even breathing.

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

Dean’s entire body tensed as the fluttering noise filled the room, disrupting the calm like a ripple through still water. He glanced down at me, relieved to see I was still fast asleep, before his eyes darted toward the foot of the bed.

And there he was—Castiel, standing stiffly in his trench coat, his blue eyes locked on Dean with the same intensity they always carried.

Dean sighed heavily, careful not to wake me as he shifted to sit up straighter. “Really, Cas? You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Dean to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that might have been disapproval. “I have news,” he said simply, his voice as gravelly and direct as ever.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before looking back at the angel. “Can it wait? She’s finally sleeping.”

Cas didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his full attention back to Dean. “No. It cannot wait.”

Dean sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Of course it can’t.”

The TV droned on in the background, the light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room as the scene faded into silence, leaving only the weight of whatever news Castiel had brought hanging in the air.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 12

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night, I found myself in Dean's bed. After finishing my bath and changing into my pajamas, I made my way down the hall to his room. He was lying sprawled out across the bed, relaxed in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Taking a steadying breath, I lay down beside him, feeling a little out of my element but strangely comfortable.

Dean wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly weaving through my hair. I found myself inching closer, resting my head on his chest, my hand splayed over his stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathed. Just as I started drifting off, I felt the soft rumble of his laughter under my cheek.

“This is freakin’ weird,” he murmured, half amused, half uncertain.

I yawned, my own voice drowsy. “Tell me about it.”

A silence settled over us, but it was comfortable—almost warm, even with the lingering strangeness of sharing a bed. He shifted, pulling me a little closer, and his breath brushed against my hair.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it,” he said softly, almost to himself.

There was something in his voice, a hesitance or a quiet vulnerability that surprised me. Dean wasn’t usually the type to dwell on emotions or look too closely at things that made him uncomfortable. I wanted to ask what he meant, but his fingers resumed their soft, steady rhythm through my hair, and I found myself sinking further into the quiet safety of his embrace.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

The next morning Dean and I were up and pacing at the hatch waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Sam, Theresa and Bobby had stopped answering our calls weeks ago. Hell, I was convinced we could be dead and they probably wouldn’t come checking on us. The creaking of the hatch sent both of us running to be the first one at the hatch.

Sam stood on the other side of the hatch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You two done yet? Or do I need to leave you in there another week?"

Dean glanced at me, a mix of frustration and reluctance clear in his eyes. He’d never been good at talking about feelings, and being forced into it? That was a nightmare. I felt his hand twitch slightly, the tiniest hint of tension under his cool exterior.

“We’ve dealt with it, okay?” Dean called out, his voice taking on that half-annoyed, half-pleading tone he used when he was trying not to lose it. “Just open the damn door.”

Sam’s skeptical laugh filtered through the small space. “I’m not buying it, Dean. You’ve been dancing around this for months, man. What makes you think I’ll believe you after a couple of weeks stuck together?”

I sighed, stepping closer to the hatch. "Sam, it’s not about the time we’ve been locked up. We talked. We... figured some things out." I glanced at Dean, who gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We know where we stand now."

Sam's footsteps moved closer, and his voice dropped lower, more serious. "And where’s that?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside me, running a hand through his hair. "We're good, alright? You can let us out now."

"Yeah?" Sam’s voice was filled with suspicion. "So, what’s the plan then? Gonna keep pretending nothing happened, or have you two finally admitted you’re crazy about each other?"

I blushed at Sam’s bluntness, but before I could respond, Dean stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "We’re done pretending, Sam. Now, can you let us out or do I have to kick this door down?"

A long pause followed. I could practically hear Sam’s wheels turning as he debated whether we were telling the truth or if this was just another one of Dean’s deflections.

Then, finally, the sound of keys rattling echoed through the hatch.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. "But if I find out you’re still avoiding this… next time, I’m locking you in for a year."

The hatch creaked open, and the sunlight streamed in, hitting us both like a slap to the face. Dean shot me a sideways look, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"See?" he muttered, nudging me lightly. "Told you we’d get out."

I smiled back, rolling my eyes but feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. Maybe we weren’t entirely done figuring things out, but one thing was for sure—we weren’t pretending anymore.

As we stepped through the door, the sudden brightness of the outdoors made me squint, but Dean’s hand in mine kept me grounded. His grip was firm—steady. For all the tension and frustration that had built up over the days, that simple touch felt like an anchor.

We looked around, expecting to see Bobby or even Theresa. But to our surprise, it was just Sam, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching us with that annoyingly knowing expression.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s everyone else?”

Sam shrugged, pushing off from the car. "Just me here. Bobby and Theresa are waiting back at his place. Figured they’d leave me to deal with you two first.”

Dean huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Of course they did." He gave me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, then started toward the Impala, pulling me along with him.

“You sure this isn’t some other test, Sammy? Locking us up wasn’t enough for you?” Dean teased, though his voice had a sharp edge to it.

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in the car, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean let go of my hand long enough to open the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing mine again as I slid into the seat. There was a certain comfort in the familiar scent of the leather, the faint smell of gun oil and coffee that always clung to Dean’s car. It felt like slipping back into something safe, even though we both knew things between us had shifted. Maybe for the better, maybe not, but we’d figure it out.

Dean climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Sam, of course, got in the backseat like it was his right to act all high and mighty.

As Dean started the engine, the low, familiar rumble of the Impala washed over me, sending a shiver of nostalgia down my spine. It was almost as if nothing had changed—except, this time, Dean’s hand found mine again, even as he steered the car down the gravel road.

Sam didn’t miss it. His gaze flickered to our joined hands, but he didn’t say anything. Just smirked that knowing smirk of his.

The ride to Bobby’s was quiet. I could feel the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the way he gripped the wheel a little too tightly. Maybe it was because we were driving back into reality, back to where things were messy and complicated. We’d had time in the house to confront some things, but the real world? That was another story.

After what felt like an eternity, the Impala pulled into Bobby’s driveway. The old house stood like a sentinel, the weight of all the memories, good and bad, hanging in the air. Theresa’s car was parked off to the side next to my Impala which one of them had clearly driven here, and I could already see her and Bobby waiting on the porch.

Dean cut the engine and exhaled slowly, his fingers still intertwined with mine. He glanced at me, his expression a mix of reluctance and resolve. "Ready for round two?" he asked quietly, though his voice had a teasing edge.

I smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "As long as you are."

Dean’s mouth curved into a smirk, and he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before we climbed out of the car. Sam was already out, walking toward the porch where Bobby and Theresa stood waiting, arms crossed, looking like they had their own set of questions ready to go.

Whatever came next, Dean and I were in this together now. And maybe, just maybe, we could handle whatever round two had in store.

As soon as we stepped out of the Impala, Bobby and Theresa descended on us like we’d walked straight into an interrogation room.

Bobby’s gaze was sharp, arms crossed over his chest as he stood on the porch, his eyes flicking from me to Dean and back again. Theresa, standing beside him, had her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable but clearly sceptical.

“Alright,” Bobby started, his voice gruff but laced with that tone that let you know he wasn’t buying any crap. “You two better not think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been let out. Sam might’ve let you out, but I need to hear it from you.”

Dean gave me a quick side-eye before stepping forward, but before he could say anything, Theresa cut in, arms dropping to her sides as she took a step closer. “Are you really done pretending? Or is this just some act to get out of that house?”

I could feel the weight of their stares. Dean had tensed up beside me, his jaw clenched, clearly not in the mood for another round of questions, but we had to deal with this.

“We’ve worked it out,” I said, speaking up before Dean could snap back with some sarcastic comment. “We’re not just playing along. We know it probably seems like that after all this, but it’s… different now.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Different how? You’ve been avoiding this for years, and now all of a sudden, a few days locked up together, and you’ve figured it all out? I ain’t buying it.”

Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re not saying everything’s magically perfect, Bobby. It’s not. But we’re done running from it. Done pretending like there’s nothing going on."

Theresa folded her arms, her expression softening just a bit as she tilted her head at me. “And you? Are you done pretending? Because this only works if you’re both all in.”

I felt Dean’s hand brush mine again, a small, subtle reassurance as I looked from him to Theresa. “Yeah, I’m done pretending. We both are. It wasn’t easy, but we talked. And we’re going to keep talking. We know where we stand now.”

Theresa studied us for a long moment, her eyes lingering on our joined hands. “You better,” she finally said, her voice gentler but still firm. “Because if I find out you’re back to ignoring each other, I’ll lock you both up myself. And believe me, it won’t be as nice as Sam’s version.”

“If I had my way all you would have gotten was a blanket on the floor and a pot to piss in” Bobby grunted in agreement, stepping forward with his no-nonsense look firmly in place. “You got a lot of history between you. I ain’t saying you gotta figure it all out today, but you better not go back to pretending none of this exists.”

Dean nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’re not going back to that. We’ll deal with it—together.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a shift in the air, like Bobby and Theresa were finally starting to believe us, even if only a little.

Theresa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides as she exchanged a look with Bobby. “Alright,” she said, her tone a little warmer now. “We’ll hold you to that. Just… don’t mess this up.”

Dean smirked, a bit of his usual confidence sneaking back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby shook his head, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he muttered, “Well, let’s hope you’re telling the truth this time, or I’ll find a way to make sure you never leave each other’s sight.”

Dean squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that we were both ready for whatever came next. We weren’t done dealing with everything between us, but for the first time in a long time, we were on the same page. And that was enough—for now.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 11

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.6k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

For 6 weeks we avoided each other. Only leaving our rooms to get something to eat or drink. Groceries where dropped off on a weekly basis, Dean was always waiting by the hatch when the drop off happened. I would sit by the top of the stair case to listen in to the brief conversation that took place, it was always the same. “Are you going to let us out yet?”

“Have you worked it out yet?”

“Fat chance of that happening”

“Then no”

For the next 2 weeks I tried to talk to Dean. Clearly waiting them out wasn’t going to work and honestly at this point I would rather be honest about how I felt and risk rejection then keep playing this game. At least this way I could tell Theresa I had tried. Surely they couldn’t keep me here if Dean was the one not playing by their rules.

My first attempted at talking to Dean was when our weekly delivery came. I waited for him to make his way down stairs then I followed behind him. Once the groceries had been delivered the hatch closed I tried to talk.

“Dean I don’t think waiting them out is working” I mentally slapped myself for pointing out the obvious.

“Clearly but we don’t have a better plan” Dean didn’t even look at me as he picked up all 8 bags of groceries in one go heading to the kitchen.

“We could talk it out like adults” I sighed.

“Hate to tell you sister but I have 10 years on you and a whole lot more life experience then you, you’re barely an adult” Dean still refused to look at me dumping all 8 bags on the counter top.

“9 years and I’ve been an adult at longer then you think”

“9 years” Dean rolled his eyes and walked off.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

“To my room”

My second attempt, third and fourth attempts where all met with eye rolls as Dean walked away from me. It was becoming clear that the only way Dean was going to have a conversation with me is if he was trapped with no escape. Dean had made it a habit of going for a shower at the same time every night. He wouldn’t risk leaving the shower if he knew I was in the room. Or at least I hoped so. I had smuggled a butter knife back to my room one night after I had made myself dinner. I had then waited patiently for Dean to have his dinner and went to test the butter knife on the lock of the bathroom door. As I had hoped the butter knife was the perfect thickness to help me turn the lock on the door. I hid it in my room and waited for him to head to the shower. That night however Dean didn’t go for his shower as normal. He ate and went back to his room. I gave him an extra half an hour just in case he was busy with something for had forgotten. But when I heard the light switch in his room, I had guessed he had gone to bed. I wandered out into the hallway just to make sure he had gone to bed. The light that was normally visible under Deans door was off. Making plans to try again the next night I ducked back into my room long enough to grab my towel before heading to the bathroom myself. I dropped my towel on the bench before running a bath. I was exhausted from days of trying to talk to Dean. Not physically exhausted but emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was a nice long hot soak in the tub. Once the tub was full, I stripped down and submerged myself in the water. I took a face washer and submerged it in the hot water before laying it over my face. I took a deep breath, laid back and let myself relax.

“You’re looking pretty comfortable there” Deans sudden presence startled me.

“DEAN WHAT THE HELL!” I screamed grabbing the shower curtain dragging it in front of the bathtub to cover me.

“I’m sorry where you not trying to do this exact same thing to me?” Dean chuckled closing the toilet seat cover to take a seat on it.

“Well yes but only to get you to talk to me” I squealed.

“So talk”

“I…uh…I…”

“Oh so now you can’t talk” Dean chuckled again “Look it’s clear this avoiding each other plan isn’t working”

“And what do you suggest we do now?” I raised an eyebrow while looking at the shower curtain now hanging between us.

“I honestly don’t know” Dean let out an awkward chuckle “For once in my life I don’t actually have a plan”

“We could always try being honest”

The room fell silent. I watched the droplets of water slowly falling from the tap waiting, internally pleading for Dean to break the silence.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his silhouette rubbing the back of his neck. His silhouette looking away, then back to me. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, the urge to argue or deflect swimming just beneath the surface. But instead, he surprised me.

"Being honest?" he echoed, as if testing out the words. "You really think that could work? I mean... after everything?"

I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to look away. "We’ve tried everything else, haven’t we? What do we have to lose?"

Dean let out a breath, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of everything we’d been carrying was pressing down harder than ever. The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier. I glanced at the tap again, watching the droplets hang in the air before they fell, one by one.

Finally, he stood up, pacing the small, dimly lit room. "You don’t just be honest” he muttered. "That’s not how it works."

"It might not," I admitted. "But pretending we’ve got it all under control isn’t working either. We’re running out of moves, Dean. This could be the only one left."

He stopped pacing, staring at me. The room was filled with a mixture of frustration and fear. “What if…What if we tell the truth and it just... makes everything worse?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t let myself fully think about that possibility. But now that it was out there, spoken aloud, it hung in the air between us like a dark cloud.

“Then we deal with it,” I said, my voice steady despite the doubt creeping into my chest. “At least we won’t be running anymore.” I whispered the last part.

Dean turned away from me, staring out the window again. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his back visibly tensing under his shirt.

"You’re really ready to do this?" he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I thought about everything we’d been through, all the lies, the half-truths, the fear that followed us wherever we went.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I’m ready.”

Dean nodded, his back still to me. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we do it.”

He turned back to face me, his expression hardened with resolve. “But if this goes south…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. We both knew what was at stake.

Dean stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breath. The tension between us thickened as the silence stretched on. I was about to say something—to break the spell that had settled between us—but before I could, Dean crossed the room in a single, swift movement.

Before I could respond he had moved the curtain out of the way. His hands gripped my arms, not harshly, but with a firmness that caught me off guard. “If this goes south…” he started again, but his words faltered. His gaze, intense and searching, locked onto mine, and in that split second, I could see the conflict, the hesitation, and the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, without another word, Dean pulled me into him, his lips crashing against mine. The world seemed to blur at the edges, all the tension and fear melting away in the heat of that moment. His kiss was desperate, almost like it was the last lifeline he had left. It was raw, full of all the things he couldn't say out loud—the fear, the uncertainty, and something deeper I hadn't expected.

For a second, I froze, my mind racing to catch up with what was happening. But then, instinct took over, and I found myself kissing him back, my hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. The world outside didn’t matter anymore—the looming threats, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All I could think about was the way his hands held me, like he needed this as much as I did.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, and I could see it in his eyes—he was as terrified as I was. Not just of what we were about to do, but of what this moment meant.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. He let go of me, stepping back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Don’t apologize.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I could see the uncertainty in his expression, the conflict still brewing beneath the surface. This was new for both of us, and neither of us knew what to do with it.

For a long moment, he just stood there, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. But despite everything—the danger we were facing, the uncertainty of the future—I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, we were finally being honest.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 10

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none unless you count cranky asshole Dean.

Authors Note: Just wanted to let you all know this story will be roughly 20 parts and I already have the ending. I know many people will hate the ending but for now, the ending I have planned feels perfect.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I’d been upstairs for what felt like hours, my senses on high alert. The EMF reader was silent, offering no clues about the supposed haunting. Just as I was about to give up, I heard a door slam shut downstairs, followed by muffled voices. Curiosity piqued, I crept towards the staircase, careful not to make a sound.

Peeking over the railing, I saw nothing unusual. But then, a frantic scramble echoed from below. Footsteps pounded towards the front door, followed by a series of violent shakes. As I strained to see what was happening, a familiar pair of worn jeans and scuffed brown boots came into view. It was Dean.

Heart pounding, I considered my options. The window was too small, and I doubted I could make it without breaking my neck. Before I could decide, the stairs creaked beneath my weight. My blood ran cold as Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Oh, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Dean? What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the pounding in my chest.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" he countered, his steps growing closer.

I crossed my arms, attempting to look intimidating. "Johnny sent me over to take care of a case," I lied through gritted teeth.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think there’s a case here," Dean said, pointing dramatically at the front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confusion and fear swirling inside me.

I jogged down the stairs, pushing past Dean. My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled with the front door handle. It didn’t budge. Not even a centimetre. Panic started to creep in as I realized I was trapped. I raced to the back door, desperation fuelling my movements. It was locked too, solid as a bank vault.

A wave of dread washed over me as I circled the house, my eyes scanning every window. My worst fears were confirmed. Freshly installed metal bars blocked every escape route. I was trapped.

The sound of breaking glass echoed from the lounge room. I hesitated, fear and anger battling within me. Slowly, cautiously, I peeked around the corner. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his face a mask of fury as he stared at his shattered phone.

"All the windows are barred, and I'm guessing the doors are reinforced," I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan.

Dean rubbed his face, his frustration evident. "Yeah, apparently until we figure our shit out, we're stuck here," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice rising in irritation.

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation and walked further into the house. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to call Theresa. Being trapped here with Dean was one thing, but being trapped here with angry Dean was another.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t even think about asking. Sam’s not letting you out,” Theresa giggled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do in here?” I groaned, frustration lacing my voice.

“Figure things out with Dean. The guy’s crazy about you and you feel the same. Just stop being stubborn and admit it,” she insisted.

“Yeah, right,” I retorted, cutting her off before she could continue.

I let out a heavy sigh and trudged up the stairs in search of Dean. Maybe we could fool everyone into thinking we were burying the hatchet. That might speed up our escape. What did they want from us anyway? Friendship? Something more? I had no clue. I found Dean in one of the upstairs bedrooms, his frustration evident as he yanked at the iron bars on the window.

"I thought we already ruled that out,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Dean exploded, his voice echoing through the room as he yanked at the bars, "Well, do you have a better idea, genius?" I stumbled backward into the hallway.

"Okay, hear me out," I offered, trying to calm him down. "They want us to get along, right? So let's fake it. Put on a show, tell them everything's peachy, and then make our escape."

He paused, his anger slowly subsiding. "Bobby and Sam know me too well. They'd see right through us."

I shrugged, "I don't know, Dean. We're clearly not gonna be best friends, so they're wasting their time."

Dean stared at me for a moment before nodding. "Maybe you're right. They can't keep us here forever. We just have to wait it out."

"Perfect. Pick a room. Just make sure it's on the other side of the house," I replied, turning and walking away.

I retreated to the far end of the house and shut myself in a room. Collapsing onto the bed, I realized I was in for a long haul. Now that I had a moment to look around, something was off. The room was spotless, almost sterile. The furniture was new, or at least very recently used, and the bedding was fresh. How had I missed this before? I’d been so focused on the case and getting out that I’d ignored the obvious.

A loud bang downstairs startled me. I leapt off the bed and raced into the hallway. Dean was emerging from the opposite end, presumably claiming that room as his own. Our eyes met as we both made a beeline for the stairs. Our bags were sitting by the front door. No sound of entry. How had they gotten inside? Dean joined me in examining the door and surrounding walls, his curiosity as piqued as mine.

"See that gap around the wall?" Dean pointed to a small, almost imperceptible indent. "Looks like a hidden door to me." He leaned into the wall, exerting all his weight. Nothing. He stepped back and tried ramming his shoulder into it, but the wall held firm.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bag, and retreated to my room. With the door closed, I rummaged through my belongings, searching for the pocketknife I always kept hidden. My heart sank when I realized it was gone. Someone had been through our bags. Panic set in as I remembered Dean's shirt, a piece I'd stolen months ago. That was a huge mistake.

I needed out, and I needed out now. They'd secured the windows and doors, but surely they hadn't reinforced the walls. If I was going to escape, I'd have to cut through. First, I had to check the kitchen without Dean seeing me. They had to have left us at least a couple of knives.

I found Dean in the lounge room, feverishly attacking the wall with a mismatched collection of utensils. I sighed, casually opening drawers. Two steak knives were exactly what I needed. I slipped them into my waistband and grabbed a soda as a cover.

Back in my room, I moved the chest of drawers to reveal a section of wall. With trembling hands, I began to cut. Hours later, as dawn approached, I'd finally breached the interior wall. Relief washed over me until I saw the solid metal sheet beyond. Disappointment and exhaustion crashed down on me. I covered the hole, dragged myself to bed, and clung to Dean's shirt for comfort.

…

Deans p.o.v.

I spent hours trying to break through the small door, but I knew, I knew Bobby would have made this house escape-proof. The man knew what he was doing, and he sure as hell knew me well enough to anticipate that I would do anything to break out. There was no way either of us was getting out of here unless Bobby and Sam got what they wanted. I sighed and tossed aside the knife I had been using to try and pry the door open. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I dropped into one of the armchairs and glared at the door, hoping my growing anger would somehow make it open. I inwardly chuckled, thinking about Sam and his demon blood. Bet this place wouldn’t hold him, I thought. Finishing my beer, I headed up to bed. There was no point in continuing to break out today. I could try again tomorrow.

When I woke, it was almost 10 a.m. It was different not having Sammy smacking my foot or his and Theresa's laughter as they entered the room with coffee and breakfast to wake me up. I sat on the side of the bed and rubbed my face. The house was quiet. I made my way to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards and fridge to make a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I got two cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs ready before heading back upstairs to check on Y/N and let her know breakfast was ready.

I opened the door to the room she’d been hiding in to find her passed out on the bed, still dressed from the day before. She had something hugged tightly to her chest. I crept quietly towards the bed, not wanting to wake her. As I pulled the object slightly out of her arms, a familiar logo caught my eye. I chuckled and tucked the shirt back into her arms. Moving back over to the door, I banged on it. Y/N jolted awake at the sound and looked up at me in shock, trying to push the shirt under her.

“Breakfast is ready, sleeping beauty,” I chuckled before walking off down the hall.

…

Your P.O.V

As soon as Dean was out of sight, I grabbed the shirt and stuffed it back in my bag, cursing under my breath. I hoped he hadn’t recognized the shirt, or we’d be in for an awkward conversation. I made my way slowly and quietly down the stairs into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee and bacon greeted me. Taking a seat at the table across from Dean, I saw him with a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, giving me a goofy grin while munching away. I had to fight everything inside myself to not smile back. I had fought so hard over the last few months to put everything I felt for Dean behind me, and I was determined to keep it there. I was going to make sure Bobby and Sam’s plan failed.

Dean and I ate in silence. When our plates were empty, I collected them and took them to the sink to wash. Dean stayed at the table, clearly wanting to say something but looking like he didn’t know how to start. Just as he seemed ready to speak, a voice called out from the window.

“Dean? Are you in there?”

“Cas? Man, am I glad to hear your voice.” Dean rushed over to the window. “Get in here and zap us out.”

I walked over to another nearby window to see who this Cas was. Standing in the yard just outside the house was a man in a trench coat. He looked to be about Dean's height with dark brown hair and stubble. He honestly didn’t look like someone Dean should know, and what kind of name was Cas anyway?

“I can’t get inside, Dean. Something is stopping me.” Cas looked over at me. “It’s good to see you again.” He said the last part while looking directly at me. Again? What did he mean, again?

“Do I know you?” I asked, surprised.

“You probably don’t remember me; I am the angel Castiel,” he said, his face showing no emotion.

“Yeah, introductions later. Bobby and Sam have us locked in here in some twisted attempt to make us get along,” Dean said. “And if you can’t get in, it means they put up wards.” Dean looked around the walls.

“Wards? Do you mean the drawings on the walls?” I let slip before I could stop myself.

“You’ve been in the walls?” Dean looked at me, confused.

“Kinda tried to cut my way out,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, embarrassed.

“Show me.”

I led Dean back upstairs into the room and pointed to the chest of drawers. Dean moved the drawers in one swift movement, making it look effortless. It was impressive, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Dean looked into the hole and cursed.

“Angel proofing. Dammit, Bobby, you’re good,” Dean cursed, storming back downstairs. I had to run to keep up. He went back to the window where Castiel was still waiting.

“Sorry, Cas. The place is angel-proof,” Dean sighed, resting his head against the bars.

“Maybe I could speak to Bobby and Sam?” Castiel offered.

“It’s no good. They won’t let us out until we do what they want,” Dean said, turning to me with a look of anger, like this was somehow all my fault. I glared right back at him and stormed back upstairs to hide in my room.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 9

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.8k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mention of murder and murder-suicide no details though.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A dusty roadhouse in the middle of nowhere Australia

“Bobby, I’m tellin’ you she’s got a death wish, mate” Johnny spoke into his phone.

“I’m not sure how you expect me to help with that Johnny” Bobby grumbled back “Owning to the fact that I’m in the US and all”.

“Look all I know is ever since those hunters of yours where here she’s been going after every evil thing by herself, she’s refusing help from everyone, and I’m worried she’s going to come up against something she can’t handle on her own”.

“Yeah, Deans been the same way Sam said” Bobby sighed “The idijit wiped out a whole Vamps nest on his own a month back, refused to let Sam anywhere near it”.

“She called this morning asking for another case but I have nothing left, I don’t have time to track down leads either” Johnny scratched his chin.

“I think we need an intervention” Bobby twisted the lid off a bottle of whiskey pouring himself a drink “Give me a couple of days to talk to Sam and I’ll get back to you”

…

I paced up and down the hallway of an abandoned house I had broken into 5 days prior. I had been searching for a hunt almost ever since. The hunt I had come here for was a complete bust, just some dumb humans breaking into people’s homes and pretending to be werewolves. Johnny had no hunts for me, I couldn’t find anything worth pursuing and the longer I went without a hunt the more I thought about Dean. Even with the man out of the country I still couldn’t get him out of my head. It was like he had a hold over me that I couldn’t escape. My pacing was interrupted by my phone ringing. I quickly ripped my phone out of my pocket.

“Johnny tell me you got something for me”

“Hay y/n yeah I got something but you’re not going to like it” Johnny sighed

“A hunts, a hunt”

“Yeah, but this ones in the US…” Johnny trailed off “But hay its big place, right?”

“Right, what am I looking at?” I tried to ignore the US part.

“Bobby’s sending me the information now, how far are you from here?”

“Two days drive if I leave now” I said heading to my car.

“I should have the info by then, so are you taking the case?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah might as well” I shrugged.

“Great I’ll also get all the paperwork you need ready” Johnny sounded like he was shuffling paper around.

“See you in 2 days”

I hung up on Johnny and jumped into my car.

…

“Did she take the bait?” Bobby asked answering on almost the first ring.

“Yeah she did, she’s on her way here, all her paperwork’s ready to go” Johnny smirked.

“Great, Sam and I found a place, we’re just making it escape proof” Bobby said “Now we just need to get them both inside without the other one knowing”.

“And that’s your problem, I’m getting her there my parts done” Johnny chuckled.

…

I made the 2-day trip in a day and a half. I travelled mostly at night and stuck to back roads so I could floor it and the cops wouldn’t know. By the time I made it to Johnnys roadhouse I was exhausted and in need of sleep. Something I promised myself I could do once I was on the plane. Once I parked the car I basically ran into the roadhouse. All I wanted was to get started on this case as soon as possible. I let the door slam behind me announcing my arrival to Johnny. He looked at me from behind the bar and just chuckled.

“When do I leave?” I asked taking a seat at the bar.

“You can be on a flight out tonight if you want to take the case” Johnny slid a file across the bar as me.

The case seemed like a standard salt and burn. Vengeful spirit, haunting a long-abandoned house. Teens and adrenaline junkies had broken in to explore the place only to end up as the latest murder-suicide to happen in the property. Looks like the spirit was a former owner who was killed on the property and his body never found.

“How do they know he died on the property?” I asked looking up at Johnny.

“Well Bobby said…”

“Bobby?” I cut him off “Bobby wants me to work this case?”.

“Well yeah after the Winchesters failed to find the body, he thought you were the next best bet” Johnny shrugged.

“I’m not working with the Winchesters” I stood up to leave.

“No, no their gone, they’ve gone to hunt down a Wendigo somewhere in Arizona”.

“Fine so long as they’re not there I’m in” I dropped the folder back on the bar.

Johnny smiled at me and handed me another folder. It had a plane ticket, and all the documents I would need to get over there.

“Now I know you love your car, but I’ve organized a car for you when you get there, info’s in that folder” Johnny pointed at the folder in my hand. “I’ve also organised a friend to pick up your car from the airport to keep it safe”

I nodded and walked back out of the roadhouse. I jumped back in my car and headed the for the airport. The sooner I got on the plane the sooner I could sleep, the sooner I sleep the sooner I reach the US, the sooner I get to the US the sooner I can finish this case and get the hell out of dodge.

…

Deans P.O.V

 “So, this case Bobby sent us what exactly did he say?” I asked Sam who was looking at a map.

“Honestly not much, abandoned house, the owner was apparently murdered in the house by the locals back in 1880, they hid his body in the house. 2 years ago the house was sold and the new owners started renovations this apparently angered the spirit because he started murdering anyone that entered his house” Sam said without looking away from his map.

“So basically, we have a missing body and a mad as hell ghost” I looked at Sam in confusion.

“That about covers it” Sam sighed folding up the map. “Its 3 days drive”.

“Alrighty then” I nodded, tapping the steering wheel. “I don’t understand why you needed to come along though; you could have stayed at the Bunker”.

“Because your spiralling Dean and I’m scared your going to do something stupid” Sam looked at me pulling his signature bitch face “You can’t keep going at it alone dude, you need to let me in”.

“I’m fine Sammy” I groan rolling my eyes.

Sam went to say something else but I turned the music and ignored him. This was about to be the longest 3 day drive we’ve ever done.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I made the airport in great time. I checked in and headed for the food court. I still had 2 hours before I would be seated on the flight so I figured I might as well get something to eat and go to the toilet before I boarded the flight that way I could just pass out once I was in my seat. Being at the airport however was making me panic. All I could think about was how in the few hours I would be back in the same country as Dean and that just meant I had more chances of running into him. And being distracted when I had to deal with a hunt was the last thing I needed. I had even cut off my best friend to be free of this man and yet I still let him have some hold over me. Nope just shake it off, concentrate on the case.

…

Dean’s P.O.V.

Sam had fallen asleep hours ago. I was tired but I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get to this hunt. Who knows maybe then I could hit up a bar and have a little fun. Nothing better to end a hunt with then an ice-cold beer. Yet ever since being in Australia, being around her, it gave me a feeling of guilt. I don’t know why it’s not like we were a thing, its not like I was betraying her in anyway. Its been 6 months I have no reason to even think about her anymore. I know Theresa’s hurt that her best friend won’t talk to her anymore but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. Does it?

I shook my head put her to the back of my thoughts and tried to think about this case. It was weird that Bobby sent us a case when the mans been yelling at me to take it easy. It must be important to stop this thing if he was sending us. I took the map from Sams lap and checked to make sure we were still headed the right way. The house seemed to be in the middle of nowhere which was a little weird for a house wracking up a body count then again with the number of kids looking for a cheap thrill and a haunted place to film to put online it’s not surprising that people have ended up wandering into the place. I looked out the review mirror revved the engine and turned up the music.

…

As I thought the 3-day drive felt like a 3-month drive. I managed to break some of it up by getting Sammy to drive while I slept. I was woken by Sam who had pulled us up behind an almost normal looking house. It was a little worn down, enough to look creepy but not enough to say it was abandoned. But if it was as Bobby had said and someone brought the place and started doing it up then it makes sense that the place was less abandoned looking. We climbed out of the impala and walked towards the house. I opened up the door and stepped inside some sort of dinning room/kitchen area. Before I could do or say anything the door behind me slammed shut. I spun around on my heels to hear the door lock.

“Sam what the hell?!” I yelled through the door.

“It’s for your own good Dean” Bobby’s voice rang through the door.

“Bobby? Why are you doing this?” I slammed my fist on the door.

“You need to man up and solve your problems” Bobby said.

I could hear the click of a padlock from the other side of the door. I cursed under my breath. And turned back into the house and headed for the front door, hoping they hadn’t locked it yet. I grabbed the handle and began to forcefully jiggle it. Locked. I heard the stairs creaked behind me. I spun around and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Oh son of a bitch”.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 8

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings boring filler chapter?

Note Short filler chapter. The next chapter will start seeing the slow burn come to an end!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Four weeks evaporated faster than a desert mirage. Another team of hunters had cleared out the vampire nest I'd targeted, forcing me to scramble for a new lead. My gaze darted across the laptop screen, searching for a hunt far enough from Sydney that I could just jump in my car and disappear as soon as the casts came off. Dean, meanwhile, had mastered the art of the disappearing act himself. Most days, he was a ghost in my own house, materializing only to grab intel on the next hunt before vanishing again.

Truth be told, I didn't need the Winchesters anymore. I was a functioning weapon again. They could have left the day we were discharged, but Sam, bless his heart, insisted on sticking around until I was fully healed. He'd even convinced Theresa to return to the States with them. I genuinely felt happy for her, a bittersweet ache blooming in my chest. It stung that Sam, despite the grim realities of our work, could find solace in companionship, while Dean and I seemed perpetually adrift in a sea of loneliness.

The tension between the brothers simmered just beneath the surface, erupting into low-grade hostility during their late-night conversations. I tried my best to tune them out, but the sound of my own name being tossed around like a grenade always snagged my attention.

The last week was a blur of activity. Sam spent his days drowning Theresa in paperwork for her move, while Dean fussed over his beloved Impala, babbling about some shady contact who could "sneak her" past customs. I, on the other hand, was a silent observer, counting down the minutes until I was free. My escape plan was already hatched. Despite promising Sam I'd take it easy, my duffel bag sat fat and expectant in the closet, crammed with everything I needed to hit the road running.

Finally, the day arrived. The Winchesters and I piled into the car, a strange, tense silence hanging heavy in the air. Dean, still grumbling about his "baby" being in the hands of strangers, insisted he could feel the difference between his car and mine. Sam and I exchanged tolerant smiles, knowing it was pure delusion.

The hospital visit was a repeat of the last one, only this time, a sliver of hope flickered in my chest. The x-rays seemed to confirm it. The doctor, a man with a perpetually weary smile, announced, "Looks like we can ditch the dead weight."

"This one first," I declared, holding up my arm, the itch beneath the cast a maddening fire. "It's driving me insane."

The doctor chuckled. "That'll be the built-up…evidence of your resilience." He set to work with a saw, and the moment my arm was free, I cradled it close, both rubbing and scratching with fervor. The stench that hit me was ripe and metallic, like a forgotten gym bag. My skin, exposed for the first time in weeks, was a stark contrast of shades - a sickly brown under the cast giving way to the healthy pale of my upper arm. The doctor, unfazed, explained the science behind the offensive odor – trapped sweat and bacteria. Charming.

As quickly as they came off, the casts were relegated to the dustbin of history. Relief washed over me, mingling with a raw, exhilarating anticipation. Back in the car, the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Tonight, when the Winchesters were safely on their flight, I'd be gone. Johnny, a fellow hunter with a nose for trouble, had sent me a juicy case on the other side of the country. People were vanishing along a desolate stretch of highway in Western Australia, all last seen at the same gas station. Humans? Or something more sinister? Johnny had arranged for me to meet a local hunter to investigate.

"Earth to Y/N," Dean's voice broke through my thoughts. "You zoning out on us, or are you ditching us at the airport?"

"Relax, your chariot awaits," I offered a tight smile.

"Seriously, what's got you lost in thought?" Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just contemplating the best way to break something and convince you two to stick around a bit longer," I deadpanned, then burst out laughing.

The joke landed with a thud. Dean muttered something about me being a "psycho," and slammed on the gas, eager to get the goodbyes over with.

At Theresa's place, a "for sale" sign sat like a grim sentinel in the yard. She wore a bittersweet smile, a reflection of my own conflicted emotions. We shared a hug, her goodbye a mix of excitement and sadness. As they disappeared into the bustle of the airport, I lingered for a moment, watching them go. Then, with a deep breath, I climbed back into the car. The airport shrunk in the rearview mirror, replaced by the endless ribbon of highway stretching before me. The ache in my chest sharpened – a potent cocktail of grief for the life I couldn't have and the thrill of the hunt that pulsed through my veins.

The drive was a blur. Every passing mile chipped away at the lingering vestiges of the Winchesters. The radio, usually a source of unwelcome distraction, remained silent. My thoughts were consumed by the case file Johnny had sent. The disappearances in Western Australia were unsettling. People, mostly lone travelers – men and women – vanished without a trace, their last known stop a deserted gas station along a desolate stretch of highway.

Johnny, ever the pragmatist, suspected foul play – a human trafficking ring or a deranged serial killer. But a sliver of doubt lingered in my mind. The isolation of the location, the pattern of disappearances… it all felt uncomfortably supernatural.

The local hunter Johnny had arranged for me to meet was a woman named Maya, someone with a reputation for handling the strange and unsettling. Her contact information was a single cryptic sentence: "Look for the blue ute with the bumper sticker that reads 'Honk if You've Seen Chupacabra.'"

A wry smile touched my lips. This was going to be interesting. The promise of a new hunt, a chance to unravel a mystery, fueled me forward. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted highway, I pushed on, the ache in my chest replaced by a steely determination. The Winchesters were a fading memory, a chapter closed. The hunt was on.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 7

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of blood

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I slept for ages. If I went off the alarm clock next to my bed, I had slept for well over 24 hours.  I probably would have slept longer but the sound of my sliding door opening followed by Deans voice woke me right up.

“What do you have there Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Y/N hasn’t eaten in 2 days, so I was just bringing her something” Sam said from directly outside the door. My stomach growled at the thought of food. It was true I hadn’t eaten anything since Theresa’s house.

“Oh, so your best buddies now?” Dean asked.

“What is your problem?” Sam sounded like he was getting angry with his older brother.

“Nothing it’s just interesting that the girl you had a huge problem with your suddenly being super nice to”.

“Yeah, well you love her Dean and I’m not going to change your mind on that, so I figured it’s better I just accept it then keep this stupid fight going” Sam sighed.

“Turns out it was just a phase” I could hear Deans smirk in his voice.

“Dean? Are you…”

“Sam seriously guess I was just thinkin’ to much with my downstairs brain” Dean laughed.

“Your sure?” Sam asked voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes, I’m sure”

My heart broke with each word Dean spoke. If he truly felt that way, then why was he still hear looking after me? Why hadn’t they just left when they dropped me here? I heard Sam opening the door again, so I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I heard Sam approach and the mattress beside me sink as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sam placed a hand on my shoulder and began to softly shake me. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, pretending to have been woken up.

“Sorry you’ve been asleep for ages, and you need to eat something” Sam chuckled holding out the food.

“Thanks Sam” I tried to sit up, failing miserably “Uh a little help” I giggled nervously.

Sam chuckled before placing the food on my bedside table. He slipped an arm around my waist and hoisted me into a sitting position. He tucked two pillows from my bed behind my back to keep me comfortable. I grabbed the food from the bedside table and began tucking in. It was anything special literally tomato soup from a can with a couple of toasted cheese sandwiches. But still I dug into it like it was the last meal I would ever eat. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay well I’m going to head out for a little while”.

“Going to see Theresa?” I gave a cheeky smile.

“Uh yeah” Sam smiled rubbing the back of his neck.

I waved my hand at the door dismissing him. Sam just chuckled and put his hands up walking out the door. I sat in silence eating my soup and watching the door half wanting Dean to come in and half wanting him to stay away. Once I had finished eating, I placed the tray with bowl and plate back on the bedside table. It was in that moment that I realised I desperately needed to go to the toilet. Not wanting to call Dean in I tried to sit myself on the side of the bed. It took a lot of strength to lift myself on one hand given that even the smallest amount of pressure on my arm pulled the stitches that lined it causing me to grit my teeth in pain. By the time I have myself seated on the edge of the bed fresh blood had begun to bleed through the once white bandage that circled it. I forced myself to stand wobbling on the thick cast around my foot and ankle. Luckly the cast stopped before my knee making it slightly easier to walk. With the assistance of the bedside table and the wardrobe that lined the wall between the bed and the bathroom door I was able to hobble my way to the bathroom. I didn’t even think when I finished on the toilet, I flushed and wobbled over to the sink to wash my non-cast covered hand. The whole time I could hear Dean banging on the door and jiggling the handle asking to be let in. I sighed, looked at myself in the mirror and flicked the lock on the door allowing him to come in.

“What do you think your doing?” Dean looked furious.

“I’m going to the toilet” I motioned to the toilet.

“You should have asked for help” Dean moved to grab my arm.

“I’m not helpless Dean, I can get from my bed to my bathroom” I emphasized my. Dean looked down rubbing his forehead. He went to speak but let out a small gasp instead.

“You’ve busted your stitches” Dean gently grabbed my arm.

“I’ll live” I pulled my arm away. I made my way back to my bed while Dean stormed back out into the kitchen cursing under his breath. I got back into my bed without any trouble. I was sat on the edge of the bed deciding what to do when Dean came back, first aid kit in hand.

“Let me see your arm” Dean grumbled.

“What are you going to do? Play doctor?” I smirked at him.

“I know a little something about stitching wounds” Dean smiled at me “So will you let me see your arm please?”

I held my arm out to him. He sat beside me and slowly began up wrapping it being care not to pull on the sensitive wound below. Once my arm was completely unwrapped Dean laid it across his lap. He opened the first aid kid which I recognised as the one from the boot of the Impala. He pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a needle and sutures. He poured a small amount of the rubbing alcohol over the wound. He pulled out the torn stitches and sewed in the new stitches. I could see the look on Deans face, it was a face I had seen multiple times.

“I know that look” I looked over to a photo on my tv unit.

“What look?” Dean looked up at me briefly.

“Look at the freak” I looked back to Dean “It’s okay I’m use to it, hell the girls at school use to cut me just to see how quickly the cuts would heal” I shrugged.

“I’m sorry” Dean never took his eyes off my arm.

“Knowing what you know, would you say I could be one of the things we hunt?”

“Knowing what I know? Not a chance. Could you be some sort of medical anomaly? Definitely” Dean smiled.

“Oh, anomaly big word for you Winchester” I laughed at him.

Dean finished restitching my arm. He took a new bandage from the first aid kit and wrapped my arm up again.

“There all better” Dean smiled at me. “Now can I help you with anything or are you going to stay in bed”.

“Can you help me over to the computer?” I motioned to the computer in the corner. Dean scooped me up in his arms causing me to squeal. I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep myself from falling. Dean just chuckled and walked over to the computer desk. He placed me on the computer chair and swung me around to face the computer.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean leaning on the desk next to me.

“I’m stuck here your not so I figured I’ll send you to a couple other cases in the area” I booted up the computer and logged in. I explained to Dean that I had started keeping an online journal that only I could access. Having it online made it easier to keep cases sorted and anything I learnt along the way a key stroke away. A lot easier then that paper journal they carried around. I pulled up a case from just over an hour away. Easy to drive there and back in a day, Vamp nest. I had it lined up as a quick clear out on my way to the big vamps nest up north.  Dean seemed impressed, he smirked at me and said something about hitting the road. He left the room with a final warning for me to take it easy. I heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the external sliding door. I turned back to the computer and started looked for other cases to keep Dean busy and out of my house.

And so, the next 2 weeks went by like this, me presenting Dean with a new case the second he was in the door, Sam going back and forth between helping Dean and spending time with Theresa. I just wanted to get back on my feet and away from the Winchesters. Sam and Dean would often talk at night as they were getting ready for bed in the lounge room. More of the same, Dean was sure he had no feelings for me, Sam was sure he was lying. Sam spoke of the spark he had with Theresa and how he was thinking about asking her to return to the US with them. Dean had now taken Sams position and was insistent it was a bad idea. There were times where Dean was around, and I would see him looking at me. He had this look, it was as if he was hurt over what happened, as if he was blaming himself. He was at fault in one way, but he wasn’t completely in the wrong. I had chosen to go back to the pool, I knew I was getting myself into trouble, but I did it anyway it wasn’t all his fault. If the boys weren’t here, I probably still would have gone back to the pool.

When the day finally came around for me to go back to the hospital to see how things were healing, I was nervous. Part of me hoped everything was healed so they boys could just leave but at the same time I hoped I had a little longer left to heal so I could keep the boys around for a little longer. As the days dragged, I felt myself fighting between wanting them to go and wanting to plead with them to take me with them. Something felt right with them, felt right with Dean. Dean pulled us up in front of the hospital and went to get a wheelchair. Sam had come with us for whatever reason. He stood by my open door and told me all about the things he done with Theresa. He had been taking the opportunity to live a normal life, he had taken her to the movies, they’d played at the arcade, everything a normal couple would do. I was happy for him. Dean came back with a wheelchair and insisted on lifting me from the car to the wheelchair. He then pushed me into the hospital while his brother followed behind. I directed him to the outpatient care clinic. We checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. We didn’t have to wait long at all. A doctor came and had a nurse roll me away to x-ray. He made the boys waiting for me in the waiting room. Once the x-rays where taken, the nurse rolled me back into the waiting room and told me that the doctor would be back with me shortly.

It took the doctor 45 minutes to get back to me. Dean rolled me into the doctor’s office taking a seat beside me while Sam went and stood in the corner. The doctor glanced between the two brothers before looking at me.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you but if I had to quess I would say your injuries where not as bad as the ER doctor and surgeon first thought” The doctor turned on his chair to face me.

“What makes you say that?” Sam jumped in before anyone could say anything else.

“The x-rays show that the ankle and wrist fractures are well on their way to healing something I wouldn’t expect to see if they were in fact fractured as bad as the original x-rays show” The doctor looked to Sam. Sam shot a concerned look at Dean. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“So what does that mean for me?”

“I’d say in 4 weeks we could look at taking both casts off, of course I would want to do another x-ray first”.

“Wow that’s great news” I smiled.

“For now I would like to check your stitches then you can be on your way”

I nodded and held my arm out to the doctor. He slowly set about unwrapping my arm. When the bandage was completely off he pulled back the gauze. A surprised gasp left his lips and his eyes went wide.

“I, uh, I can take the stitches out if you want the cut looks almost completely healed so I don’t think you need to keep them in” The doctor tried to cover his surprise. I nodded and the doctor went around collecting what he needed to remove the stitches. Sam excused himself from the room. I looked over at Dean knowing exactly what Sam was thinking in that moment. Dean said he would go talk to him and left too leaving me with the doctor who had returned and started removing stitches from my arm.

…

I followed Sam out of the hospital back to the car where I found him rummaging through the boot. He stood up and looked at me holding Dads Journal.

“Sam it’s not what you think” I said walking over and taking the Journal.

“Then what Dean, we both know she shouldn’t have healed that quickly” Sam pointed a finger back at the hospital.

“If I tell you, you cannot tell her”.

“Tell me what? What do you know?” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

“She’s part Angel Sammy”.

“Part Angel?” Sam chuckled and looked away from me.

“I’m serious”.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…”.

…

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…” Sam spotted me and stopped talking. He nodded at me and moved to climb into the Impala.

“What’s his problem?” I asked hobbling up beside Dean on a crutch I was now able to use.

“Just freaked out by your fast healing is all” Dean smiled at me.

“You told him I’m not anything you hunt?” I asked.

“Yeah, not sure he believes me thought but he’ll get over it” Dean open the door and climbed into the Impala. I opened the backdoor of the Impala and slid in tossing the crutch on the floor. At least I didn’t have to wait to much longer to be rid of the Winchesters.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 6

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

summary Dean finally acknowledges his feelings out loud.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of stillbirth

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

“Dean, Dean!” A voice pierced through the ringing in my ears, dragging me out of a thick fog. I struggled to piece together what had happened. The last thing I remembered was being in the Impala—Y/N’s Impala—with her… but where was she?

“Dean, can you hear me?” The voice called again, more urgent this time.

“Y/N,” I groaned, but it wasn’t her voice.

A splash of water hit my face, jolting me awake. My eyes shot open, and I found myself sitting at the edge of a pool. The memories came rushing back in a flood: the hunt, Y/N’s anger, following her into the pool... and then nothing. That thing had taken control—I was possessed. My gaze was locked on the pool in front of me when two figures emerged from the water.

“Dean, I need help,” Castiel appeared, cradling Y/N’s limp body.

“No, no, no!” Panic surged through me as I scrambled to pull her from the pool. She wasn’t breathing, and there was blood—so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. My mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation. I couldn’t lose her, not now. Autopilot kicked in as I grabbed her and bolted for the front door, adrenaline fueling my every step. Cas was right behind me, shattering the glass doors with a wave of his hand so I could barrel through without slowing down.

“Here,” Cas handed me her car keys. I didn’t question where he got them—I didn’t care. I flung her into the passenger seat and jumped into the driver’s side, flooring it toward the hospital. As I drove, my mind raced to come up with a story. Maybe she fell into the pool from a second-story window? Or maybe it was a stupid dare gone wrong? I was grasping at straws when a sharp cry of pain and coughing snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alive,” I breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at her.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she spat out, wincing as she tried to move in her seat.

“Me? What did I do?” I asked, concern and anger mixing in my voice.

“You—or the spirit that possessed you—attacked me,” she shivered, her voice trembling.

“Are you cold? I could turn the heat on,” I offered, reaching for the heater.

“Nah, it’s broken…” she muttered, her voice trailing off as she slumped unconscious in her seat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath, realizing it was probably the shock setting in. I pushed the car to its limits, and within 15 minutes, I was skidding to a stop outside the hospital. I yanked her out of the passenger seat and rushed inside, shouting for help as I burst through the doors. She was cold, but she was still breathing.

A nurse quickly appeared with a bed, urging me to lay her down. I hesitated, torn between the need to get her help and the overwhelming urge to protect her. I was frozen, unable to let go. A nurse gently placed a hand on my arm, grounding me just enough to let her go.

“It’s okay, she’ll be safe—I promise,” the nurse reassured me.

I nodded, reluctant but knowing I had to trust her. I gently placed Y/N on the bed, watching as they wheeled her away, shouting about trauma shears and portable X-rays.

“Y/N’s a fighter. She’ll be alright,” the nurse spoke up, her voice firm yet kind.

“How do you know her?” I asked, surprised as I turned to face her.

“We went to high school together; we were best friends,” she smiled nostalgically. “After graduation, I chose med school, and she pursued more creative endeavors.”

“I’m Dean,” I introduced myself, holding out my hand.

“Oh, the new boyfriend Rachael was talking about,” she said with a warm smile, shaking my hand. “I’m Lina. I have to say, I’m surprised she finally found someone interested in her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt a sudden, protective urge rise within me.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Lina clarified quickly. “She’s just… unique. We went to an all-girls Catholic school, and we used to have yearly dances with the boys’ school. None of the guys ever gave her much attention. She wasn’t the typical girly-girl. She never took their crap, never pretended to be something she wasn’t, and she never compromised her values. Honestly, I was always a bit jealous of how she could just be herself without a care in the world.”

“Yeah, well, it’s their loss,” I replied, a mix of pride and realization in my voice. “She’s amazing—so strong and independent. Nothing slows her down. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have her in my life.” The truth of my words hit me hard, but I knew I could never tell her. I could never burden her—or anyone—with what came with being close to me.

“Come on, let’s fill out her paperwork,” Lina guided me out of the emergency room into the waiting area. She handed me a clipboard with a stack of forms and left me to fill them out.

First name: Y/N Last name: Age: Date of Birth: Place of Birth:

I sighed, staring at the empty spaces on the form. I knew so little about her—just bits and pieces. She’d mentioned she was 22, right? That would make her birth year 1993, but what about the day and month? And where in Australia was she born? Australia is a vast place. Frustration gnawed at me as I realized how little I knew about someone I cared so deeply for. I was about to give up when I heard the familiar flutter of wings, and Castiel appeared beside me.

“January 24, 1993,” Cas said, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

"What?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice.

"Her date of birth is January 24, 1993. Last name: Y/L/N. Place of birth: Goulburn, NSW," Cas rattled off the details like they were common knowledge.

"How did you know that? The 24th—that’s my birthday," I said, looking away from the clipboard, disbelief creeping in.

“The day she was born, something went wrong,” Cas began, his tone unwavering. “She died, but she wasn’t supposed to, so God had me bring her back.”

“What? Did God have some grand plan for her?” I threw my hands in the air, frustration bubbling over.

“I’m not at liberty to say. It’s God’s plan—only He knows,” Cas replied, his words only adding to my irritation.

“If you saved her then, why can’t you fix her now?” I almost yelled, my voice rising with desperation.

“It’s not that simple, Dean,” Cas responded, calm yet infuriating.

“How? Just lay your hands on her and heal her!” I shouted, attracting glances from the people in the waiting room.

“Dean,” Cas said more softly, “when I brought her back to life, it took a piece of myself. A piece she still carries within her. It will help save her.”

“So, what? She’s part angel?” I asked, disbelief and a hint of awe mingling in my voice.

“Yes,” Cas answered simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Great, well now I’ve heard it all.” I shook my head, overwhelmed by everything. I turned back to the paperwork, but to my surprise, it was already filled in. When I looked up, Cas was gone. Typical. I dropped the pen onto the clipboard, running my hand over my face, trying to process everything.

“Dean?” A nurse appeared beside me, her presence pulling me back to the moment.

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied, standing up quickly.

“Y/N is awake and asking for you,” she smiled gently. “Be warned, we haven’t quite got her fixed up yet, but she won’t calm down without you, she says.”

I nodded and followed her through a maze of hallways, the sound of Y/N’s frantic cries growing louder. At some point, the nurse had taken the clipboard from my hands, freeing them to hold Y/N’s and help calm her down.

“Dean,” she choked out between sobs, her voice trembling with fear.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You need to let them help you,” I stayed calm, trying to be the steady presence she needed right now.

The medical staff cut away her clothes and removed her boots as I held her hand tight, not daring to let go. They managed to take X-rays after I reassured her that I’d be just outside the room, even though I knew hospitals terrified her. When they placed the X-rays on the lightbox, I saw the extent of the damage—her ankle and wrist were badly broken. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing I had done this to her, even if I had no control over myself.

I noticed a deep cut running down her forearm. A doctor was doing his best to clean and stitch it up while I kept Y/N’s eyes on me, trying to distract her from the pain. Someone mentioned needing surgery, but I was too focused on her to really take it in. My heart broke seeing her like this—so scared, so small in that hospital bed. When they finally stitched up her arm and bandaged it, a nurse came up beside me.

“Sir, I need you to sign this paperwork for us to go ahead and get her to surgery,” a nurse said, thrusting a clipboard into my face. I quickly signed it and handed it back.

“Please don’t leave me,” Y/N whimpered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you, I promise,” I replied, leaning down to kiss her gently on the top of her head before I could stop myself. I felt an instant sense of calm wash over her from such a simple gesture.

“We’ll take good care of her. If you could go back to the waiting room, someone will come get you when she’s out,” the doctor explained, helping to wheel her out of the room. I reluctantly released her hand as they carried her away.

I made my way slowly back into the waiting room. It felt like time stood still the moment she left the room and disappeared from my sight. I realized how deeply I was in love with her, and she had been clear about how she felt about me. I hated seeing her hurt and had done everything I could to protect her from this. Now, it felt like the only way to keep her safe was to keep her close, yet at arm's length. Maybe if I kept her nearby but distant, she would be safe. Or perhaps pushing her so far away she would never want to see me again.

“Dean! Dean! Where is she?” Sam burst into the waiting room, his voice urgent.

“Slow down, you gargantuan freak,” Theresa called, running full speed behind him.

“What do you care? You don’t like her,” I snapped, standing up to face Sam.

“Yeah, but you do, and I’m obviously not going to change your mind,” Sam sighed, exasperated.

“Well, Sammy, turns out you’re right. She’s a distraction, and I just want to get as far from her as possible,” I replied, trying to maintain a straight face.

“Dean, she loves you. You’d be breaking her heart,” Theresa said softly, almost whispering.

“She’ll get over it,” I responded curtly, turning to leave the hospital. I walked out, leaving Sam and Theresa in shocked silence.

The light was so bright, and the room was spinning. I groaned and tried to sit up.

“Whoa there, take it easy,” I felt a large hand gently push me back into the bed.

“Sam? What are you doing here? Where’s Dean?” I asked, closing my eyes, hoping the spinning would stop.

“To be honest, I have no clue where Dean is, and I’m not sure why I’m here either,” Sam let out an awkward chuckle. “Look, I know I haven’t been the nicest person, but my brother—he loves you, and I guess I just have to accept that. So, truce?”

“Truce,” I replied, attempting a small smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace.

“OH. MY. GOSH. YOU’RE AWAKE!” Theresa suddenly exclaimed, startling me from where she had been sleeping against Sam.

“Woman, turn the volume down,” I groaned, still feeling disoriented.

I opened my eyes to look at her. She had jumped up from her seat and bolted to the side of my bed, pulling me into an awkward hug. Over her shoulder, I could see Sam watching her with a soft smile. The way he looked at her—the twinkle in his eye—it was clear. He was in love with her. I gave him a knowing look, and he smiled in acknowledgment before glancing at the floor. He realized he couldn’t continue acting the way he had been without being insanely hypocritical.

A doctor came in to speak with me not long after. Luckily, he said they didn’t need to use any rods or screws in my arm or ankle. I would be off my feet for at least ten weeks with my ankle, and my wrist might take sixteen weeks to heal completely, he guessed. He organized for me to come back in two weeks for follow-up X-rays and said he would be able to tell me more then. After prescribing some antibiotics, he sent me on my way.

Sam and Theresa helped me out to my car, with Sam driving us back to the hotel and dropping Theresa home on the way. Since I couldn’t use crutches, Sam had to help me into the room, placing me carefully on Dean’s bed before checking the bathroom.

“Dean’s not here, is he?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, but we’re going to have to check out of here tomorrow and find somewhere else to stay until you’re healed up,” Sam said, looking out the window.

“You’re really going to stay and look after me?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Sam shrugged, offering a small smile.

“Well, thank you,” I smiled back, genuinely touched by his kindness.

“Your mom mentioned something about heading back to Sweden, so maybe we could crash there for a while?” Sam suggested, sounding hopeful.

"Uh yeah, she’ll likely be gone for the foreseeable future, so that would work," I nodded, trying to pull myself further up on the bed to lie down. Sam quickly jumped up, helping me get more comfortable before offering to grab us some food. He took the keys to my car and left the room.

I settled in and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Dean was walking through the door.

"Rise and shine, your dinner’s here, and if you don’t eat it, I will," Dean said, tossing a bag at me.

"Touch my food, and I’ll chew your arm off," I retorted, grabbing the bag that had landed against my side.

"We have to be out of this room by 10 a.m., so hurry up and eat," Dean grumbled.

"Why weren’t you at the hospital?" I asked, unwrapping a burger and taking a bite.

"Was I supposed to be at the hospital?" Dean questioned, busy packing his stuff into his duffel before leaving the room.

"You said you’d be there when I woke up," I reminded him when he walked back in.

"I said what I had to so you would calm down," Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. "Now hurry up and eat. I want to be out of here in the next hour," he said, walking off again with more of his and Sam’s stuff.

Caught off guard by Dean’s sudden change in attitude, I decided not to push the conversation further and instead focused on my food. After eating in silence, Sam helped me to my car while Dean went to check us out of the room. Sam drove my car while Dean drove his, both of us heading back to my mom’s house.

I stayed silent even once we arrived. The only time I spoke was to ask Sam to help me to my bed. Once I was comfortable, I closed my eyes and decided to ignore the brothers, who were busy in the lounge room outside my door, going back and forth about what they were supposed to do while I recovered.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 5

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

3.5k word count

Summary The part in which the hunt goes terribly wrong and you can't wait to be rid of The Winchesters.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death, and physical assault.

Note: This chapter is slightly shorter than normal but it ended exactly how I wanted it to end. Also sorry not sorry for the ending. By no means is this the end of the tale, however!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Dean stepped out of Theresa's house, the creaking wooden porch echoing beneath his boots. The crisp evening air greeted him as he closed the door behind him. I had spent four hours daydreaming, staring at the dying grass, happily ignoring the existence of the Winchesters.

"Hey, y/n," Dean said, his voice carrying a mix of determination and weariness. "Is the truck ready to hit the road?"

A flicker of pride danced in Dean's eyes. "Yeah, she's purring like a kitten again. We're good to go."

"Then what's holding you back?" I asked, sensing there was more to Dean's hesitation.

Dean sighed, the weight of the hunt evident in the furrow of his brow. "Thing is, Sam and I figured we'd wait until nightfall before we make our move. The less attention we draw, the better."

I understood his reasoning. In the world of hunters and hunted, stealth was often our greatest ally. "Playing it safe. Smart move."

Dean nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, you know how it goes. Better safe than sorry."

The evening cast long shadows across the front of Theresa's house as Dean joined me on the steps, a palpable tension hanging in the air. I wanted, in that moment, to move away from Dean—to stand up and run away, to hide in Theresa's house while waiting for night to fall. And yet, at the same time, I wanted to move closer to him, fall into his arms, rest against his warm, chiseled chest. I wanted to hold on to him and never let go.

Leaning back against the weathered wood, Dean cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. "Hey, you've been kinda all over the place and distant today. Everything okay?"

I shifted uncomfortably, my gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for the right words. "Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. Just... thinking."

Dean arched an eyebrow, not convinced by my response. "Come on, don't give me that. I can tell something's been bothering you. You've been acting off all day."

The words weighed heavily on my tongue as I gathered the courage to speak up. "Dean, last night... I overheard your conversation with Sam," I began, my voice trembling slightly.

His reaction was a mix of surprise and concern, his green eyes searching mine for any hint of what I might have heard. "And... what did you hear?"

Taking a deep breath, I recounted the painful revelation. "Sam mentioned how he feels like I'm a distraction to you, that I might be holding you back from focusing on the hunt. And you said you'd get over me, forget about me, once you’re back in the US."

Dean's expression darkened with guilt, and I immediately regretted bringing up such a sensitive topic. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. It wasn’t fair to you."

I shook my head, reaching out to reassure him. I placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dean. I understand. You and Sam have your own worries, your own struggles. I just wanted to be honest about what I overheard."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to ever feel like you're just a distraction, because you're not. You're a valuable member of the team, and I'm glad you're here with us."

"Do you see me as just a part of the team, another hunter, and nothing more?" I blurted out, the question hanging heavily between us.

Dean's expression softened, his eyes searching mine with a depth of emotion that took me by surprise. "No, of course not. You're more than that, you know?" He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. "You’re important to me, y/n. More than just a team member."

A mix of relief and vulnerability washed over me as I looked at him, the weight of unspoken feelings suddenly feeling a bit lighter. "I... I’m glad to hear that."

Dean gave me a small, reassuring smile, and we fell into a companionable silence, the tension easing as the evening shadows deepened. The night was coming, and with it, a new chapter of our hunt—and perhaps, a new understanding of what lay between us.

I furrowed my brow, uncertain of his meaning. "What do you mean?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Dean's lips as he spoke. "You're family, just like Sam and me. We've been through a lot together, and that means something. It means you're not just another hunter to us. You're someone we care about, someone we trust."

"It seems like Sam doesn't fully trust me," I said, my voice tinged with frustration and concern.

Dean's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Sam's always been cautious around new people, especially after everything we've been through. It's nothing personal, trust me."

His reassurance was comforting, but there was another question burning inside me, one I couldn’t ignore any longer.

"And what about you, Dean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "How do you feel about me? Do you... have feelings for me?"

Dean's gaze softened, his features betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I... I care about you, more than I probably should. You're brave and strong, and... damn it, you've saved our asses more times than I can count."

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue, to reveal the depths of his feelings.

"But..." Dean hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. "I don’t know if it’s... more than that. I don’t know if I can allow myself to feel that way, considering everything else that's going on."

His words stung, a pang of disappointment twisting in my chest. But I understood his reluctance, his fear of opening himself up to potential pain and loss.

"It’s okay, Dean," I said, forcing a smile despite the ache in my heart. "I understand."

I forced myself up from where I was sitting and made my way back inside. Stepping into the cool interior of Theresa's house, I welcomed the quiet, seeking refuge from the intensity of the conversation with Dean.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm raging within me. The air was thick with uncertainty, each breath a struggle against the weight of my own conflicted feelings.

Outside, Dean's voice drifted through the open window, a constant reminder of the tangled mess I found myself in. But I couldn't face him right now. Not when every moment spent in his presence only deepened the confusion in my heart.

Instead of letting my mind wander, I honed in on the task ahead. All I wanted was to banish the ghost, end this nightmare, and send Dean back to the States where he belonged. With a determined sigh, I pushed aside my doubts and fears, steeling myself for the battle to come. I had a job to do, and nothing—not even the tangled mess of emotions swirling around Dean—would stand in my way.

As I prepared to face the darkness outside, a silent vow echoed in the recesses of my mind: I would banish the ghost, send Dean packing, and finally close this chapter of my life once and for all.

By the time I had pulled myself together enough to face the Winchesters again, night had fallen. The brothers were busy making plans with Theresa on how to retrieve the cursed pole from the scrapyard and bring it back to burn in her yard. Theresa, however, was stuck on how they planned to actually burn the pole, barely listening to the rest of the plan.

"While you do that, I’m going to hang by the pool and make sure your pole burning actually works," I said, moving toward my car.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up," Dean jogged over, placing a hand on my car door to stop me from leaving. "You’re not going alone. What if the spirit decides to go after you?"

"And why would the spirit come after me? Could it be because your dear brother sees me as a massive burden on you, and in turn, on him?" I crossed my arms, glaring over Dean’s shoulder at Sam, who simply huffed and rolled his eyes. "Who better to draw the spirit out and make sure it’s gone for good?"

"Exactly. I’ll come with you. Theresa can go with Sam," Dean said, glancing back at them. "I need to make sure you’re safe."

I rolled my eyes, shoved Dean’s hand out of the way, and climbed into the car. I started it up, revving the engine. Before I could make my escape, Dean dashed around to the other side of the car and jumped in. Sam got into their car, and Theresa hopped into the ute parked in front of her house. We parted ways—Theresa and Sam heading towards the junkyard, while Dean and I drove in awkward silence toward the pool. Sure, I was probably being reckless, but I couldn’t care less. I just wanted the Winchesters out of my life for good.

I could see Dean out of the corner of my eye, opening and closing his mouth, fidgeting in his seat like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I pulled into the pool parking lot, stopping directly in front of the entry doors. I turned off the car, pocketed the keys, and exited before Dean could react.

Having broken into the pool countless times during my high school days, I knew about the hole someone had cut in the less secure side fence behind the building housing the outdoor pool pumps. Dean didn’t know this. Before he could register what was happening or even get out of the car, I locked it, smiled at him through the window, waved quickly, and bolted. I knew Dean was familiar with the Impala’s inner workings, so it wouldn’t take him long to unlock the door. But I used my head start to duck into the bushes along the side of the pool, hoping his size would slow him down or force him to take the long way around the building.

It took me less than five minutes to reach the hole in the fence. As I slipped through, my forearm caught on a sharp wire that hadn’t been cut back, and I felt warm blood trickling down my arm. Cursing under my breath, I checked the damage—a decent four-centimeter gash that might need stitches, but nothing that couldn’t wait.

Inside the building, I wandered around before settling in the adults-only area of the pool, which offered a good view of most of the interior. I pulled out my phone and shot a quick message to Theresa to check on their progress. The building was eerily quiet, so I allowed myself to relax, lying back on one of the sun chairs. If the spirit decided to make a move or if Dean entered the building, I’d hear it. Just a few more hours, and I’d be rid of the Winchesters for good.

I’d already made mental plans during the day—after this, I’d hit the road and head toward the Sunshine Coast, where there was a possible vampire nest that needed investigating. All I needed was the green light that the spirit was gone, and I’d be out of here.

As if reading my mind, my phone began to ring, jolting me back to reality. I cursed under my breath as I answered.

“Theresa, you better have a good reason for scaring the life out of me,” I nearly yelled into the phone.

“Sorry, Dean wasn’t answering,” Theresa replied quickly. “Anyway, we’ve got the pole and we’re headed back to my place. Sam thinks he’s figured out a way to not exactly burn the pole, but to burn anything that might be inside it.”

“Great. Let me know when it’s done; all is quiet here,” I sighed, glancing around the eerily silent building.

“Okay, will do.”

As Theresa hung up, I stood and began to check the building. It was strange that I’d been sitting here for so long, and yet Dean hadn’t made it inside. Part of me worried that something had happened to him, but another part couldn’t help but hope he was still stuck in the car. I made my way toward the front doors, figuring I should be able to see straight into my car from there.

I walked between the pools and the adults-only balcony, heading for the ramp that led to the front door and the changing rooms. I kept my eyes peeled, just in case Dean had managed to slip inside before I got there. A flicker of guilt tugged at me—maybe he really was trapped in the car without a way out—but then again, a part of me thought he kind of deserved it. Or worse, maybe he had decided I deserved to be alone in the building, which would be a clear sign that he had no feelings for me at all.

As I crept past the changing rooms, I glanced inside. Both were as empty and eerie as the rest of the building. Standing outside the changing rooms, where the ramp doubled back on itself toward the reception area, I realized I couldn’t see my Impala from this angle. For a moment, a wild thought crossed my mind—what if Dean had hot-wired it and driven off, leaving me here? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d deserved something like that.

I continued up the ramp, stealing one last glance into the pool area, which remained as empty as when I’d left it. When I finally turned back to the reception area, I could see the front doors and my Impala parked exactly where I’d left it—except Dean was no longer inside.

“Dean?” I called out into the empty building.

Silence greeted me. I turned away from the door, back toward the reception desk. There were only so many places he could be hiding if he’d made it inside, and I should have heard him the moment he entered. After all, those boots of his were loud and distinctive.

"Dean," I called out again, my voice echoing through the empty building as I moved toward the office space behind the reception desk. I navigated behind the counter, heading for the first of the three small offices. Each space was identical: a desk, a chair, some boxes—typical office clutter. A quick glance was all it took to confirm they were empty.

After closing the door to the third office, I turned around—and nearly ran into something.

“Jesus, Dean!” I gasped, stumbling back with my hand clutching my chest. “How are you so quiet?”

I looked up at him, but something was off. Dean’s expression was void of any emotion, his eyes vacant. This wasn’t Dean anymore. Deep down, I knew the spirit had possessed him—but why?

Without thinking, I bolted toward the pool area, fumbling to pull out my phone to call Sam and Theresa.

“Where do you think you’re going, Y/N?” The voice that came from Dean wasn’t his; it was deeper, darker, like something from a nightmare.

The sheer malice in his tone startled me so badly that I tripped, sending my phone flying down the ramp. It smashed against the wall between the changing rooms, shattering into pieces. I scrambled to gather the remnants, but the damage was done. My phone was beyond repair.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dean—or the thing inside him—standing at the top of the ramp, watching me. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted toward the pools, my only thought to stay out of his reach until Sam and Theresa could burn the cursed pole. It had to have been at least 20 minutes since I last spoke to them; they should have been done by now.

I ducked between the pools, making a beeline for the adults-only balcony, praying that putting some distance and a fence between us might buy me a few precious moments. I raced up the stairs and slammed the gate shut behind me, shoving the nearest sun chair against it. Desperately, I grabbed another chair, but before I could secure it, Dean appeared at the top of the steps, a dark, chilling laugh escaping his lips. The kind of laugh that didn’t belong in real life, but in a horror movie.

"Oh, sweetheart, do you really think a couple of chairs in front of a gate is going to stop me?" His voice was laced with malice, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve already begun to think of all the ways your precious Dean could end you.”

“W-why? Why Dean?” I stammered, fear choking my voice.

“Why? Because you’re nothing but a distraction to Dean. So why not Dean? Why not give him the push he needs to remove the biggest pain in the ass in his life?” Dean—or rather, the spirit—yelled, pointing a finger violently in my direction. “It’s all right here in Dean’s head. You haunt his every waking thought. From the moment he first met you, he’s been distracted by the mere thought of you. He’s almost gotten Sam killed, gotten himself killed, all because of you. So why not have him remove the problem? Doesn’t it seem fitting?”

An evil, inhuman grin spread across Dean’s face. In a matter of seconds, the grin vanished as he smashed through the gate. I stood frozen in place, paralyzed by the horror of what he’d just said.

In a few quick strides, Dean closed the distance between us. His hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground and pinning me against the wall. My eyes widened as I caught a brief flicker of recognition in his eyes—Dean was fighting to regain control—but the spirit quickly overpowered him.

Dean’s grip tightened around my throat. I clawed at his hand, gasping for air as the world began to blur. He leaned in close, his face inches from mine.

"Let's make this fun, shall we?" Dean's breath was hot against my face, laced with a twisted cruelty that didn’t belong to him.

Before I could react, Dean hurled me clear across the balcony. My body slammed into the glass wall on the opposite side with such force that I heard it crack. I barely had time to register the pain before he was on top of me again, yanking me up and slamming my back against the railing. The sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground below filled the air. I silently prayed that any second now, the pole would be burnt and the spirit would be gone. I just had to hold on.

"Sorry, Dean," I muttered, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. I kicked him hard between the legs.

He dropped me, stumbling back in pain. It was my only chance. Without hesitation, I slid through the broken glass wall, but I misjudged the height of the drop. Instead of landing on the down ramp, I plummeted to the lower level. Pain shot through me as I hit the ground, a sickening pop signaling that my ankle was dislocated.

Desperate, I began crawling, ignoring the sharp sting of broken glass slicing into my hands and knees. The chlorinated water on the floor seeped into the cuts, intensifying the agony. Behind me, I could hear the unmistakable sound of Dean’s boots on the cement floor—he had recovered quickly, too quickly.

"Now, now, Y/N. I'm going to make you regret that decision," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

A sharp, unbearable pain shot through my arm as Dean's boot came down on it, a loud crack echoing through the room. A bloodcurdling scream tore from my throat, but it only seemed to fuel the spirit's sadistic pleasure. Dean's hand tangled in my hair, yanking me across the floor toward the edge of the wave pool. Still clutching my hair, he lifted me and dropped me into the pool's deep end.

I knew I was in trouble. With my dislocated ankle and broken arm, there was no way I could swim back up. Even if I somehow managed to push off the bottom, Dean would just shove me under again. As I sank, I looked up at Dean’s wavy silhouette, his figure distorted by the water. My lungs burned, begging for air, but I couldn’t reach the surface. My foot brushed the bottom of the pool as the edges of my vision started to go black. This was it—the end. A strange sense of relief washed over me. Relief that Dean would no longer have to worry about me, that Sam could finally be free of his burden, and that my parents would no longer have to deal with their problem child.

Just as the darkness closed in, I saw a bright flash of light above me. Dean's silhouette crumpled to the ground, and then everything went black.