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mlmxreader · 2 months

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Awkward Moments | Dean Winchester x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hey can I request dean with the prompt “I leave you two alone for one night, and I come back and you’re acting all weird!” ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Dean get caught red handed, more or less.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, sex references, raunchy flirting

↳ MINORS DNI

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You grumbled softly as you stirred, feeling the pillows against your head and the soft blanket around you; you moaned and groaned as your joints clicked and you tried to figure out where you were.

You were clearly in a motel room, although it definitely wasn’t yours; there was an empty bed beside you, clearly not slept in, and you furrowed your brows as you turned over, colliding with a warm and familiar body.

Dean flinched, shaking his head as he put his arms around you and pulled you close, murmuring something about not telling Sam. Fuck.

It all clicked, then; going back with Dean to do ‘research’ and putting on some Warrant for a little bit before one thing lead to another and… now you were waking up in Dean’s bed, naked.

Your eyes widened as you gently slapped his chest, pushing yourself up and glaring down at him with furrowed brows.

“Dean!” You whispered hoarsely. “Dean! Get up! It’s morning!”

Dean only grumbled in response, not seeming to care as he pulled you back down and shook his head. “Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna come here…”

“We’re in a fucking motel room,” you hissed out. “For fuck’s sake, Sam probably already saw because I’m in your fucking bed!”

“‘S fine,” Dean muttered, refusing to open his eyes as he vaguely attempted to wave you away. “‘S only Sammy, we’ll be fine…”

“Dean!” You growled, but when he only muttered and mumbled, you grunted and stormed into the bathroom with your clothes.

You slammed the door behind you, thankful that you at least had the decency to keep all your clothes in one place for once.

You rolled your eyes, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you to be so attracted to him; you were going to get caught, and then your integrity and everything you had worked for would come crumbling down by everyone thinking you slept yourself into every merit and qualification that you had.

You couldn’t believe Dean would be so fucking obtuse about it. You huffed, shaking your head and trying to quickly get dressed; but then you heard the motel room door open, and you quickly grabbed the towel.

Pressing it against your face, you screamed as loud as you could into the soft fabric. You heard some muffled conversation, and grumbled when you heard your name being mentioned; you took in a harsh breath, licking your lips and slowly leaving the bathroom.

Your heart sank when you saw Sam standing there, holding up one of your boots. He smiled when he looked at you, raising his brows.

“Speak of the Devil,” he hummed.

You slowly moved closer, standing on the opposite side of the room to Dean, which was highly unusual; more often than not, the two of you were always joined at the hip, practically sitting on each other and playfully shoving and hitting each other.

Sam squinted at you for a second before looking between you and Dean with suspicion. “What’s going on? I leave you two alone for one night, and I come back and you’re acting all weird!”

You glared at Dean, who only glared back as he clenched his jaw tightly, silently telling you to keep your mouth shut; you did very much the same, glaring and scowling at him to try and shut him up so that Sam wouldn’t find out the truth.

No one could find out.

Sam frowned, guessing that neither of you would even think of answering as he rolled his eyes and asked what you wanted for food; you told him what you wanted, and when he had it all, he was quick to run out of the room. Quickly, Dean threw your boot at you as he scowled.

“What the fuck?! Leaving your boots lying around?!”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” You shouted back, tossing the boot aside. “If I’d’ve stayed in bed with you, I’d’ve been fucking caught in your bed!”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t blame this on me! You were the one who came onto me and-”

“And you came onto me!” You pointed out. “You practically fucking begged me to sleep with you!”

“Oh, as fucking if!” He huffed out, crossing the room and pinning you between his body and the wall, his hands either side of your head. “I really fucking hate you right now.”

You put your hands on his bare chest, breath hitching in your throat as you swallowed thickly. “I really fucking hate you, too.”

“C’mere,” he grumbled, looking down at your lips for a moment.

You didn’t hesitate, closing the distance and kissing him harshly; it didn’t take long before his hands were roaming your body, tugging at random bits of clothing and grunting quietly.

You kissed him back just as eagerly, tugging at his hair as you murmured under your breath, eventually pulling away as you bit down softly at his bottom lip.

“Do not start with me,” Dean warned lowly.

You licked your lips as you smiled. “How much time do you think we have?”

“About an hour,” he whispered, tugging at your sides just below your ribs, the soft flesh warm against his skin as he groaned softly. “You good with that?”

You nodded, which earned you a firm slap to the backside that made you laugh softly. “More than, Winchester - but only if you can keep up.”

He raised his brows, just a little more than amused as he started pulling you back towards the bed with him, trying not to trip over your feet; you laughed along when he pushed you down on the bed, grinning up at him and tracing your hands down his chest for a moment.

“I think I can keep up just fine, your highness,” he teased softly, nibbling at your bottom lip for a moment. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head, giving him a few short and sweet pecks on the lips just to get him going. “I’m not exactly sure you can, Winchester.”

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 1 year

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Don’t Call Me Sammy - Sam x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: It’s been ages. I’m not going to use my taglist, because idk if they all still wanna be on it. But, I was feeling smutty. And daydreaming about this little one shot all day. I can’t begin to describe how good it felt to put it on the computer. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

*Gif not mine*

Warnings: Oral sex- female receiving. No plot, really. Short sweet, and straight to the point. No real editing. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 1,000

"Sammy!" Dean waved his meaty palm directly in front of glossy, shadow rimmed hazel eyes. Catching the taller, youngest man's attention finally. "Come on, man. What's gotten into ya, Sammy?"

"I really need you to drop the nickname, Dean." Was the answering groan. Large, calloused fingers rubbed over a too straight nose. One that somehow had been spared in the chaos of hunting. Attempting to clear his head from the memories assaulting him.

"Yeah, okay." The elder of the two huffed. Bringing his mug of jet black sludge to his pouty lips. Caffeine to counter the night of driving they'd undergone. "This 'bout that girl back east?"

"What girl?" Those hazel eyes whipped back to the menu. A smug smile tugging the corner of his dimple.

It was definitely about the girl. But Sam would drop dead before giving his brother the dirty details. Just under twenty four hours ago she'd walked in and wrecked everything he'd thought he'd known. About her. About himself. About sex. God, the sex. His fist shook against his thigh as his mind traveled back to it all.

Dean had ditched him and y/n at the bar. On the prowl for his own piece of ass. One shot of tequila was all it took for Sam to get brave. He'd grabbed her hand, tugging the quietest girl he'd ever met out into the snow chilled air.

They hadn't made it far. Sam's room was right around the block. Already, her laughter flowed easier. Her walls caving in the quiet of the night. And as suddenly as it'd started? Reality swept in. "What are we doing, Sam?"

The slight uncertainty hidden in the undertones of a tease pierced his gut, "That depends...What do you want to do?"

He watched the wheels turning in her head. It should've been an easy answer, he thought. In his mind? It was simple. He wanted the night with her. Wherever it took them. As long as he got to hear that light peal of laughter, again.

She was laid across his bed. H/C tresses haloed around her head. A sight so sweet, he could've died again, right there and been okay. He watched her chew her bottom lip until it swelled. E/c eyes taking him in.

"It doesn't matter what I want." She finally sighed. Turning to the ceiling. He hated the sudden distance between them. He'd known her mere days, and yet? It felt like he knew her. She'd never choose something for herself. Too used to pouring herself into those around her.

"Yes, it does." He couldn't stop himself if he'd tried. The tips of his fingers trailed down her shoulder to her hand. Raising goosebumps along her flesh. Watching the way her breathing shifted. He could practically hear her heart racing. Or maybe that was his. The innocent touch igniting something feral inside of him.

His brain couldn't quite decide on who'd made the first move. All he knew was the sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced turned filthy in an instant. One moment he'd held her close, comforting without words. The next? He was staring down the prettiest pussy he'd seen in his life. Drooling over the dampness that coated each fold.

Glancing up, he watched her hand tighten on the comforter. Every breath she took made him ache harder for her. Kiss stained breasts straining against the cool air. He blew the teeniest bit against the heat that radiated off the slick flesh in front of him. And then he dove deep. "Sam!" Y/n's hips writhed at his first taste. The perfect blend of sweet and salty. "Oh, fuck," Another buck against him was his reward as he flattened his tongue against her. He pulled back for just a moment, pressing his forearm down over her belly. His other hand searching for entry. "Sammy, please!" The desperate plea was broken and cracked. He'd have handed her his soul right there, if he could've. Just to hear it again. Instead, he licked back up to her clit. Sucking deep as a reward just as he pressed into the wet heat of her. Hunting for that little ridge that made her thighs shake. "There!" His quiet girl was no longer in sight. Instead, she told him just what he'd done right. Moaning out while her pussy pulled him deeper. Clenching as they both begged him for more. Her fingers wrapped through his hair. Tugging as his bruised her thighs and inner walls. "Sammy, don't stop. I'm...I'm so close. Please, Sammy."

She chanted his name. Praising the way he'd taken her over. Demanding everything from him and more with every twist of her body. He applied more pressure just how he'd learned she liked it. Both inside and out, until his name peaked from her lips in a final scream of bliss.

"Sammy..." "Sammy." "Sammy!" Dean's bellow broke him out of the memory. "Dude, gross. You're drooling."

"Shut up," Sam huffed. Shifting in his seat. Attempting to reduce some of the friction he was feeling below the belt. His dick begging to remember what had followed after. "And-"

"Stop callin' ya Sammy," Petulant as always, his older brother looked him dead in the eyes. Mischief gleaming in the green. "Is that what gave you a woody?"

"Dude," Sam's head whipped so fast, his chestnut hair whipped him in the eye. Making his brother cackle like a full blooded hyena. Trying to see who heard as his arm covered as much of the evidence as he could. "Shut up."

"I knew it." The wheezing drew more eyes their way, as the bitch face took over the younger of the two. Scowling deep did nothing to curb the mission Dean was on. "She pavloved your ass." Another dry cackle echoed as he slapped the table.

Sam sighed. Knowing that he was doomed. Dean was right. She'd ruined him. And the second he was given another chance? He'd dive right in headfirst. Desperate to hear that throaty "Sammy" leave her lips as he pumped into her. Over and over, again.

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marchtothefuckingsea · 1 year

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Pay No Dues - Lucifer

My Masterlist.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings:canon violence and gore, injury. Lucifer is good(ish) au, don't like don't read.

hurt/comfort, a surprising amount of fluff, enemies to allies/friends to lovers

Summary: Lucifer keeps offering to heal reader when they get injured on hunts, but they refuse. When they're hurt too severely to protest, he finally heals them. They reveal that they don't want to take advantage of his powers, which is a surprise him.

"Here, let me heal that."

"It's fine. I'm fine." I insisted, pressing a rag firmly against the openly bleeding gash on my bicep. The rag was already soaked, and by the trail of blood I left in the hallway behind me, I could guess it was doing little to stop the bleeding.

"It looks just a little bit like you're not, but fine. Just bleed to death. See if I care." Lucifer trailed behind me, glancing at the blood droplets on the floor. I looked over my shoulder to glare at him.

"I'd say you care enough to insist on healing me." He scoffed, but finally shut up.

I shouldered my arm under the tap. The water that ran down the drain was a bright, saturated red, and probably more blood than water. I hissed when it hit the open wound, gripping the countertop until my knuckles turned white. I wadded up a bunch of paper towels-the nearest absorbent thing there was-and pressed them to my arm.

Turning back to grab bandages, I noted, with a sigh of relief, that Lucifer had fluttered off to go bother someone else.

Sam shoved the bunker door open, and Dean staggered through, supporting me by my shoulders. A belt was wrapped tightly around my upper thigh to act as a tourniquet. I had been beaten to a bloody pulp and shot in the leg. I was lucky it had missed everything vital, but I knew I would be out of commission for weeks with this one.

I was released onto a couch with a groan of pain. Dean hurried to the infirmary to get supplies, and Sam stayed by my side, muttering comforting things. My eyes drifted off though, and behind him, another figure walked up.

"Lucifer." Sam turned to him before my eyes could focus. When they finally did, he was by the side of the couch, looking down at me.

"No." I said as he opened his mouth. I already knew what he was going to offer. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

"Just let him." Sam insisted. I shook my head. I'd gotten by just fine without needing the angel to heal me.

"Look, none of us like him-"

"Ow." Lucifer interrupted.

"But he's here and freely offering. So take it. You're gonna be out of commission for a while if you don't."

"I'll be fine." I groaned, shifting into a sitting position with a shallow sigh. I heard Dean's footsteps down the hall. "At least I'll finally get some time to rest." I joked.

It turned out that Sam was right. The bullet didn't hit anything that would cause too much permanent damage, but it did hit a muscle that had taken a ridiculously long time to heal. In the meantime, I had been stuck in the bunker doing research and babysitting the devil.

"Why are you so independent?" Lucifer had appeared in a chair across from me, and he frowned at the word. I was in the library, sitting on the floor with my nearly healed leg stretched in front of me. I jumped slightly at his sudden appearance.

I was silent, hoping he would go away. Of course, I should have known better by now, over a month in, that it never worked.

"Look, I know you've got that big bad hunter thing going on, but you're human regardless." I sighed, shutting the book with a harsh clap.

"If this is your way of pestering me to heal me again, the answer is still no." I glared at him.

"But why?"

"I've never needed angel help before, and I don't need it now. Why are you so persistent?" I narrowed my eyes at him. He vanished in a flutter of wings, and I sighed in frustration.

I returned to hunting not long after that encounter with the devil. Even after almost two months, my leg was still pretty tender, and I still carried a bit of a limp that I tried my best to hide. I just wanted to get back into the swing of things, and today I was going to do just that.

The Winchesters were away on a paranormal case, helping out an old friend, they had said. In the meantime, I found a simple vampire case that should have been pretty safe, and so I figured it would be a good start to see how I would fare.

"Where are you off to?" Lucifer had appeared behind me as I packed my duffel. I swung it over my shoulder, grimacing at the twinge of protest from my leg.

"A case." I answered simply.

"You're still recovering, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and?"

"And you shouldn't be going."

"For one, why do you care? And for two, it's been almost two months. I'll be fine." I argued. He crossed his arms, but he was silent.

"I'm coming with you."

"I don't think so." I narrowed my eyes at him, slamming the trunk of my car shut. He remained there as I got into the driver's seat, but as soon as I began to pull away, he appeared in the passenger's seat.

"Lucifer." I grit my teeth.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Get out." He continued to stare straight ahead, a small, conniving smile on his face. "Get out."

"No."

"God fucking damnit. Get out or I'm going to fucking stab you." I threatened.

"You're driving." His voice was tinged with laughter, pissing me off even more.

"Fuck off." I muttered.

This was going to be a long drive.

As soon as we stepped foot inside the rickety barn, it seemed as if the entire nest knew we were coming. There were more of them than I had anticipated, and they were strong.

I hissed in pain when one slashed his grimy nails over my forearm, before shoving me back into a wall that was several feet away. With a miserable groan, I crumpled to the floor. Lucifer appeared behind him, taking the vamp's head off effortlessly with the machete I had dropped. I struggled to my feet, pressing my sleeve down tight against my bleeding forearm. The wound began to burn, and my vision blurred more than it should have.

I picked up another machete lying on the floor and swung around just in time to meet a female vamp baring her fangs at me. Her head fell cleanly away from her shoulders. Lucifer turned to me, eyeing me up and down before frowning. I gave him a nod to tell him I was fine, but he didn't look convinced.

I turned down the hallway, swaying on my feet and nearly running into the corner as my vision spun. Pausing, I leaned heavily against the wall, and hunched over as a sudden dizzy spell left me barely standing. I could have sworn I heard footsteps, but I couldn't react quick enough to what happened next.

Clawed hands collided with my shoulders, shoving me up against the wall harshly, at the same time a white hot pain coursed through my right shoulder. My eyes widened, and I struggled against the female vampire's hold, gasping.

When she stepped back to admire her handiwork, I realized I was still pinned to the wall. My eyes darted down to my shoulder in horror, and I saw a jagged splinter of metal had been forced through my shoulder and into the wall behind me. I almost gagged at the sight.

It didn't take long for shock to set in. Suddenly my whole body felt cold and numb, and my head dropped to my chest. My eyes drifted shut, until I felt the burning, agonizing pain again of someone pulling the metal out of my shoulder. I was released from the wall, and I staggered forward, barely aware when Lucifer caught me from falling face first onto the floor. He lifted me into his arms easily, and the next time I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the warm lights of the bunker.

I realized he had taken me to another room, maybe even his room, when I felt my body sink into unfamiliar sheets. My entire being was still in fight or flight mode and I wanted to jolt upwards, but the slightest movement made me choke out an agonized cry. My skin glistened with sweat even though I shivered violently. I was sure I was cold to the touch because even Lucifer's chilly hand felt warm against my forehead.

I groaned weakly in protest, forcing my eyes open. With one hand, he held my head down and the other he pressed firmly to my shoulder, causing me a jolt of pain. I whimpered, trying to squirm away from him.

"Calm down. Just let me heal you." He snapped. I flinched at the harshness in his voice; he had never spoken to me directly in that tone before.

I felt a tingling sensation dance over my skin, and then strangely in the deep wound on my shoulder. When I didn't know what he was doing to me, I began to panic. As soon as Lucifer released me, I shot up, banging my head against the wall.

It was then I realized that I was fine. My shoulder had been healed, along with the rest of my cuts and scrapes, and my clothes were even clean of blood. I eyed him suspiciously where he sat on the edge of the bed.

"What?" He asked defensively.

"You know I didn't want you healing me."

"Oh not this again." He sighed in exasperation. "You're welcome, by the way."

I was silent.

"What is it with you and my grace, anyway?" Lucifer squinted at me curiously, leaning against the headboard beside me and crossing his arms behind his head. It was then I realized this must have been his room. I shifted uncomfortably at the nearly non-existent space between us.

I shook my head. "It's nothing." I muttered, turning my head away from him. My arms still rested defensively over my stomach. Despite being healed, I was exhausted and I began to nod off, catching myself when my head lolled to the side. His pillows smelled…comforting.

The blade at my side was digging into my skin uncomfortably so I groaned and shifted, untucking it from my waistband. I held the blade out to him wordlessly, the hilt toward him to show he could take it. He placed it on the table at his side. I knew I'd have to reach over him if I wanted it back, but somehow I was sure I wouldn't need it.

I propped myself on my elbow as I shifted to face him. There wasn't any personal space between us at all now. My knee bumped his leg, and all I had to do was lean back to rest my head against his chest.

"I don't think it's nothing." He said simply. His tone wasn't mocking, nor prying. It was almost disinterested, but I knew Lucifer was inviting me to open up to him. I never would have thought about it years ago, when he had first been freed from the cage and demanded Sam to say yes to him. I never even would have considered a few months ago; but things had changed since then.

"If it makes you feel any better, I try not to let any angel heal me." I shrugged, leaning back against the pillows.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I guess," I had never given much thought towards it until now, so I hesitated. "I guess I don't want to take advantage of their powers. Or yours."

I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He looked taken aback. "Really?"

"I mean I know Sam and Dean don't look at it that way, and I can't really blame them. It's convenient. But it's not something you guys have to do, y'know? You don't have to waste your energy on us." Everything came spilling out freely now. "But you do, and Cas does, even at the expense of his own wellbeing. I appreciate it, but it feels like a debt I can't pay back. I don't like owing people." I frowned.

I saw him glance down at me from the corner of my eye, and I could have sworn his face softened. "You don't owe me anything, and you never will."

He continued. "I'd heal you as many times as you need it. I'd bring you back a thousand times, but you will never owe me for it."

I glanced up at him in surprise. "Where did that come from?"

"Nowhere." He frowned at himself.

"No, seriously."

"No, seriously." He repeated, turning his frown to me. "I've been around you humans too long." He muttered.

"And? Are you starting to care about us pathetic creatures too much?" I asked lightheartedly, but his face remained serious.

"You could say that." He was hesitant. "Maybe too much."

The angel's gaze was intense, and I found myself looking away. "Look at me."

With a sigh, I met his eyes. "What?"

"It's you. You're the one that's made me care."

"And do you hate me for it?" I questioned quietly.

"Yes and no."

"That's reassuring." I huffed.

"I've watched you, and your brothers, and the rest of dad's creations. I watched them for centuries before I was locked away, you know. I never much cared for them and their little routines and mannerisms and such. But you, you've made me come to appreciate it all. I never understood what dad saw in you guys, but I think I'm starting to see those stupidly endearing qualities that makes him like you humans so much." He took a deep breath as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Lucifer, what are you trying to say?" My voice was timid at his confession.

"You've made me see the good humanity has to offer." He said simply.

"And for that you're very," He leaned down to my level now, our noses almost touching. His eyes flickered down and he looked as if he was contemplating something before he continued. "Very, special to me." He breathed out. As he pulled away, he pressed a feather light kiss to my forehead.

My mind was reeling as I watched him. "Are you serious?"

He frowned slightly. "Deadly."

"Then…I think you might be special to me, too." I admitted quietly. He looked surprised for a moment, but quickly recovered.

At my confession, he snaked an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side. I tensed briefly before relaxing against him with a small sigh, my eyes fluttering shut tiredly.

"Oh, I can't wait 'till Dean finds out about this." I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't you freaking dare." I muttered, digging my fingers into his side. "The less he knows, the better."

"Didn't feel like getting stabbed, anyways." He laughed. I huffed, relaxing my hand.

"Lucifer?" He hummed in acknowledgement. "Thank you."

He rubbed my shoulder in response, and I felt his cheek on the top of my head. "Don't mention it." He murmured.

"You've already paid your debt to me a thousand times over." He reminded me softly.

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deanstead · 2 years

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Pie

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested: yes, by anon and anon

Summary: For the first time in her life, Y/N feels a craving for pie and she knows exactly why.

Word Count: 1,141

Warnings: none

A/N: I combined a few requests here but I also made this fic a little segmented, but I hope it turned out well!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

This was new.

You’d made pie for Dean thousands of times, even when the both of you used to hunt together. But you’d never wanted to eat it as much as you did now.

You glanced down at your belly that was already showing and shook your head. “This is all you, isn’t it?” You asked quietly as you closed the oven door again to keep the pie warm.

You felt a kick within your belly, as if he was answering you and you smiled. Dean’s son, through and through.

Right on cue, you heard the door open, the familiar sounds of Dean’s footsteps as he trod through the hall and into the kitchen.

“Hey.” Dean said, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you and he leaned in for a kiss. “Is that…”

You grinned back at him. “Maybe?”

Dean chuckled. “You are the best." He announced pressed another kiss on your cheek. "Sammy said he’s coming over with Eileen so let me wash up and I'll take the steaks out.”

“I can do it.” You told him, to which Dean shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. Leave me some stuff to do, seriously.” Dean said with a wink. “I’ll wash off the grease and be down in a bit.”

You smiled as you watched Dean head back out and up the stairs.

Dean had somehow created a miraculous life for the both of you, almost as if there was nothing out there in the dark of the night anymore, even though you knew everything was stored in the Impala that was parked in the garage.

Dean and Sam still went on hunts, especially when they hit a little too close to home, but Dean had had a close call in what all of you jokingly called the last hunt. It was the day that you’d almost lost Dean and thinking about it now still caused the pooling of tears in your eyes and sent your heart racing.

But after that, Dean had made a life for you both here. Something even he had thought impossible before. Yet here you were now, a ring sitting on your finger, awaiting the arrival of your son.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Dean reentering the kitchen, putting a gentle hand on your belly now that he’d taken a shower as he hummed and started to prepare the food.

You’d had an extremely normal and nice dinner with Sam and Eileen, until the pie came out.

Dean was already about two mouthfuls in when he noticed you were watching him. “What?”

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly.

Dean narrowed his eyes and Sam let out a short laugh, his arm draped over the back of Eileen’s chair. “Y/N, you have never wanted his pie more.”

Dean looked up at you and frowned. “Wait, seriously?”

You didn’t answer him.

“You don’t even eat pie. You’ve never…”

“I know.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at Dean.

Sam watched, his eyes almost sparkling with amusement, ready to see Dean narrow his eyes like what he did with literally everyone. Dean put the piece of pie that was already sitting on his fork into his mouth, reaching forward to dig his fork into the pie again without saying anything.

As if he’d expected it, Sam smiled but then paused when Dean reached forward to feed you.

Sam raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything and you burst into a fit of giggles, Dean laughing as he put another piece of pie into his mouth, even though Sam had opened his mouth.

“Seriously, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “You don’t even eat pie.” He shot at his brother.

“Neither does Y/N!” Sam argued but you patted your belly as an answer, to which Sam raised his hands in defeat, the laughter from the four of you filling your house, the warmth that filled the place having nothing to do with the thermostat sitting on the wall.

You’d been in the middle of dinner with Dean when you’d felt the first sign of contractions, backed up by your water breaking and he’d whisked you off to the hospital, staying by your side throughout.

When Sam and Eileen had come by after his first feed, you’d glanced at Dean before you smiled at Sam.

“Hey Sam. Get over here.” You’d said, nodding at Sam. “Meet Jackson Winchester. You know, Jack for short.”

Sam glanced at his brother, who nodded with a small smile.

“Why don’t you take him? Uncle Sammy should carry his godson.” You said quietly.

Sam paused from where he was bent towards you, Jackson now looking tiny in his arms. “You guys… seriously?”

You smiled. “We were hoping.”

Sam smiled. “No question. Of course. I’d be… I’d be really happy to.”

You watched Sam cradle Jackson in his arms, Eileen smiling by his side, with her own belly showing just slightly and you just smiled, feeling safe and warm surrounded by family.

One year old Jackson sat perched on his father’s lap, as the oven dinged and you took out a beautifully baked pie.

“Jack, why don’t you come with Mama, okay? Let Daddy…” The words were barely out of your mouth when Jackson turned into his father’s embrace and Dean just chuckled, smiling at you.

“Fine, but the plate is hot, so no touching you hear me?” You spoke to your son, who nodded now that he was reassured that he wasn’t going to be plucked from his father’s lap.

“Y/N, seriously, your pies? I love that I’m the only one who gets to taste this heav…” Dean paused. “You know what, there literally is no other word. This heavenly goodness. Seriously, I would totally pay for this.”

You laughed, leaning in to press a kiss on Dean’s lips. "And I'm glad I don't have to." Dean finished as you pulled back away.

You could taste the aftermath of your pie still on his lips. “Hmm.” You hummed, before you pulled away, putting a gentle hand on Jackson’s head before you went in to get water for your boys.

It was when you were coming back out from the kitchen that you took in the sight in front of you.

Jackson seated on his father’s lap, Dean putting pieces of pie into his mouth, and Jackson’s eyes following the pie all the way from the plate to his father's mouth.

You burst out laughing, making Dean look up. “What?”

“You’re going to have to share your pie soon.” You commented, pointing towards your son who was still looking at the pie.

Dean laughed. “My son.” He proclaimed almost proudly.

You laughed. “Watch out, Dean.”

Dean just laughed, taking a chunk small enough that Jackson could eat and you just smiled.

Your boys.

Thank god you were good at baking.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

Character taglists are open!

#resa.fics #resanoona request #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dad!dean #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester oneshot #spn #spn x reader #spn fanfic #spn imagine #spn oneshot #sam winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n

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heaven-s-black-box · 6 months

Text

Baby Steps- Jack x fem!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: December 6th, 2020

Description: Could you write a happy Jack x reader story that kinda follows the plot of the end of supernatural (if you have seen it) but where jack stays with the boys and fixes everything and everyone is happy.

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with acciodracomalfoy from the research lab designation Ao3, we thank them for their contribution.

Word count: 420

Back to directory

Y/N yawned as she made her way through the halls of the bunker. It was around noon, and she’d finally rolled out of bed after staying up way too late watching her favorite show. Not that she regretted it, with no threats she could finally catch up on months of missed episodes.

As she approached the kitchen, she could hear the sound of sizzling bacon and laughter.

“Okay, now pour the egg in the hole. There! Now let it cook for a bit, then flip it,” Sam instructed someone.

“Ew,” Dean groaned. “Ow, mother-”

Y/N stifled a laugh, leaning beside the door to the kitchen just out of view.

“Dean, I do not think I made the juice right.”

“Why did you use a blender?” Eileen asked.

“To juice the oranges.”

“Please tell me you didn't put the whole orange in the blender,” Dean sighed.

“Was I not supposed to?”

Eileen, and Sam laughed as Dean let out an exhausted sigh.

“No. No you weren’t.”

Taking this as the perfect opportunity, Y/N stepped into the kitchen.

“I can help with that. What’cha making?” She smiled.

“Well, good morning to you too,”Dean laughed, “We’re making brunch.”

---

“So, how’s heaven?” Y/N asked, as her and Jack did the dishes after eating.

Dean had gone to give baby a wash, Sam had a load of laundry to do, and Eileen and Cas were off on an in-laws bonding case. At least that’s what Y/n had been referring to it as, because while no one was married yet, she didn’t think it’d be long.

“I don’t think they like me very much,” Jack frowned, “or Cas. But we’re trying. We’ve already started discussing a deal with the empty to bring some of the angels back, like Gabriel and Michael.”

“Why Michael?”

“I know he…”Jack thought for a moment, “sold us out, but I’m sure he had a reason. So I want to hear him out. Plus, heaven will probably listen to him more than me right now.”

“Hey,” she smiled, nudging him. “Cheer up. Baby steps, no ones expecting you to be perfect right away. You’re already doing better than Chuck.

“Baby steps… I can do that,” he chuckled. He looked back at the plate he was drying and went silent. “Speaking of baby steps… I was wondering if we could have dinner together… tonight… just the two of us. “

Y/N stopped washing the pan, and turned to him.

“Like a date?”

“Yes. Like a date.”

#researcher s's recovery #supernatural #supernatural x reader #jack kline #jack kline x reader #x reader #female reader #fluff #oneshot #SPN oneshot

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years

Text

Not Your Fault

Pairing: Dean x GN!Reader

Summary: It had only been a week since you'd been attacked by a demon and when you can't sleep from the pain, you and Dean finally get a chance to talk about him blaming himself for the attack.

Warnings: Mentions of a stab wound, mentions of painkillers.

A/N: So this is kind of like a recreation of a scene I wrote in my Dean Winchester fanfic on Wattpad a while back. Hope you like it! :)

You were awoken from your sleep when you felt another wave of pain pulse through your stomach, your hand immediately pressing against the healing wound that was there.

It was only a week ago that a demon had plunged a blade into your stomach to warn Dean off Azazel. You thought you were going to die that day, you hadn't expected Dean to find you in time. He saved your life.

Turning over in bed, you checked your phone to see that it was 4:00AM. And you'd been up most of the night, having to fight off the pain almost every hour, so you decided that you might as well just get up.

Dean was still snoring loudly from where he laid beside you so you were careful not to wake him as you got up from the bed in search of your painkillers. You picked up the bottle and walked over to the sink for some water.

But your efforts not to wake Dean had proved unsuccessful because when you turned the tap on, the sharp sound of the water being released jolted him awake. You mentally kicked yourself as you turned around to see Dean clumsily sitting up in the bed. "Sorry."

He just waved his hand at you as he shuffled off the bed, squinting at you in the dark. "It's fine. What time is it?"

"I dunno like four?"

"Well then I guess we're starting early today." He chuckled. "What're you doing up anyway?"

"Painkillers." You simply said, waving the bottle at him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

After what happened, you noticed that every so often Dean would look at you, and his eyes would be so full of guilt. You knew he blamed himself for you getting attacked and you just wished that he wouldn't. Because it wasn't his fault. If anything, it was yours for not being careful enough.

"You want a drink?" Dean offered, pulling a couple of beers out of the fridge.

"It's four in the morning."

"Is that a no?"

"Just...give it here." You sighed, taking the bottle from him and following him over to the couch. You winced when you sat down beside him, which prompted him to immediately rest his hand on your back to make sure you were okay. "I'm okay Dean."

He didn't say anything then as he took a swig from his bottle, proceeding to sit in silence as he stared at his feet.

"I know you blame yourself for what happened." You suddenly said, making him look up at you in surprise. You let out a humourless laugh. "Come on, you didn't really think I wouldn't notice. You're sitting here with a beer at four in the morning for god's sake."

"Yeah well it was my fault you were even in that situation in the first place."

"Dean, you saved my life."

"Only because I put you there."

"When are you gonna stop blaming yourself for every bad thing that happens?" You asked him, becoming a little frustrated with him. "You're constantly carrying all this guilt around for shit that's not even your fault."

"But what happened to you was my fault. I was putting you in danger when I brought you into this life. I shoulda known this would happen."

"God, why can't you just accept that you're not to blame for this? Do you really hate yourself that much?" In all your frustration, you'd stood up, only remembering the stab wound when you felt a jolt of pain in your stomach.

You hunched over in pain and Dean quickly came to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to help you sit back down. "I'm sorry, okay? But I just can't help but feel responsible for what happened."

"Dean, I chose this life, okay? I chose to be with you and I don't regret a single thing." You assured him, placing your hand on his arm. "Nobody's to blame for what happened to me except the demon that took me. It's not your fault."

He didn't say anything then as he turned to look at you, his eyes still heavy with guilt. You didn't know what to do so you just reached out and pulled him into a hug.

The movement did cause a slight sting in your stomach but you didn't mind. You just wanted Dean to stop blaming himself for something that wasn't even his fault.

"I know I can't make you stop blaming yourself for this." You started, stroking the back of his neck with your fingers. "But can you promise me you'll at least try to work through it?"

He nodded, burying his face into your shoulder. "I'll try."

[Main Masterlist] [Dean Masterlist]

TAGS: @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x GN!reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean x reader #dean winchester hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural oneshot #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #jensen ackles

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ink-n-shadowfiction · 1 year

Text

[ 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ]

Started: 5/30/2021

Last Updated: 9/27/2023

Total Works Completed: 23

Most Recent Work: Spark Up ⑱ | Backshots with Ghost while he smokes a cigarette

CoD MEN

SUPERNATURAL (coming soon)

GOLDEN TRIO ERA - HARRY POTTER

MARAUDERS ERA - HARRY POTTER (coming soon)

CRIMINAL MINDS (coming soon)

SHAMELESS

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (coming soon)

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narcissisticmf · 2 years

Text

time to come | dean winchester x fem!reader

description: when dean is thrown five years into the future, he comes face to face with himself.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of death, gun usage, slight seductive behavior, spoilers from season five, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 1.4k

The room was dark and night has risen over the light sky, overwhelming blackness amongst the atmosphere. Dean slowly blinked as he felt his body was positioned in an irregular fashion, causing strains in his muscles. He grumbled and looked to his side seeing that his wrist was handcuffed to a rusted ladder. He looked across the room, through the darkness, to see himself cleaning a gun with an oil rag.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled in a whisper as he stared blankly at himself.

"I should be asking that question, don't you think? In fact, why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here and now?" Replied the other Dean, pursing his lips as he leaned forward after he placed the gun down onto the table as he was seated in a chair.

"Because you'd only be hurting yourself.." Dean released in a single breath.

"Very funny," Grumbled the other Winchester.

"Look, man, I'm no shapeshifter or demon or anything, okay?" Dean's voice was shaken as he had no idea where he was or why.

"Yeah, I know. I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water—nothing. But you know what was funny? Was that you had every hidden lockpick, box cutter, and switchblade that I carry. Now, you want to explain that? Oh, and the, uh, resemblance, while you're at it?" Folding his hands together, he looked at Dean with an angry glare in his eyes.

Dean sucked in a breath and sighed in defeat, "Zachariah."

Pushing himself out of the chair, the other Dean stood up and stared down at himself, "Come again?"

"I'm you from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future," Dean replied.

"Where is he? I want to talk to him," Future Dean clenched his fists.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged.

"Oh, you don't know," Future Dean mocked and rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't know. Look, I just want to get back to my own friggin' year, okay?" Dean looked up at his future self and watched as he knelt down before him.

"Okay. If you're me, then tell me something only I would know," He stated flatly.

Dean thought for a moment and felt his lips curve into a smirk, "Rhonda Hurley. We were, uh, nineteen. She made us try on her panties. They were pink. And satiny. And you know what? We kind of liked it."

Future Dean formed his lips into a frown and nodded softly, "Touché. So, what, Zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?"

"I guess. Croatoan virus, right? That's their endgame?" Dean questioned as he watched his future self stand and walk back towards the table. He lifted his gun and continued wiping it down further.

"It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that," Future Dean replied while looking down at the gun.

"What about Y/N?" Dean asked softly.

The room fell still as Dean's future self glanced up at nothing in particular. His shoulder fell as he swallowed a thick lump, his eyes looked back to Dean with his teeth clenched together.

"She's dead," Future Dean muttered, looking back down at the gun. "The virus infected her.. so I had to take her out myself."

"We killed her?" Dean's brow furrowed as his pupils dilated with the thought of having to do such a thing to you.

"She was with us at camp for a while, but after we came back from a supply run.. she took a hard hit and started to turn pretty fast," Future Dean cringed at the images flashing throughout his mind. "I had no choice," He looked at his past self and straightened his posture, swallowing thickly.

"You didn't bother trying to find a cure?" Dean cocked a brow. "Maybe Cas could've healed–"

"Cas?" Future Dean scoffed, "He's mortal here, he lost all his angel powers.. gave them up."

Dean released a quiet sigh, one without any sound as he noticed his future self grabbing a duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Where you going?" Dean asked.

"I gotta run an errand," Future Dean spoke flatly.

"Whoa. You're just gonna leave me here?" He asked with his brows raised.

"Yes. I got a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an apocalypse hanging over their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of The Parent Trap. So, yeah, you stay locked down," Future Dean replied.

"Okay. Alright. Fine But you don't have to cuff me, man," Dean mumbled and watched as his future self headed for the door, "Oh, come on. You don't trust yourself?"

"No. Absolutely not," Future Dean replied and exited the cabin.

"Dick," Dean mumbled and released a soft sigh as he looked around the cabin, seeing a nail that stuck out of the floorboards. He smirked softly and reached over to pry it from the wood. Once it was pulled from the ground, he slowly reached it to remove the cuffs from his wrist. It took a few tries before he finally freed himself and sighed contently when he heard the cuffs fall against the floor behind him.

Sneaking out of the camp through the bushes, Dean glanced around and found that several people from his timeline were scattered about the field doing work and gathering rations. He looked ahead of him and crouched down to flee from the camp, attempting to find a way to get back to his time and to you.

Able to get away from the camp, Dean did his best to stay low and kept a handheld gun – that he took from his future self – low at his side between his fingertips. His gaze flickered across the street when he was several miles away from the campsite, seeing a cemetery sign.

Crossing the empty street, Dean walked along the dirt path that took him deeper into the abandoned place. It looked as though nobody had been there for years, but so did everything else in this time period he was thrown into.

His eyes flickered around the gravestones and soon laid upon yours. He furrowed his brow and walked towards it, seeing your name plastered amongst it:

Y/N Y/L/N

1979 - 2014

He stood before it with tears burning in his eyes. He wondered if being buried was something you wanted, since it wasn't a typical hunter's funeral. His knees sank into the ground as he gazed at the tombstone, gently reaching his fingertips up to trace your name.

"How could I let this happen?" Dean whispered as a few tears slipped. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N.. I'm so sorry."

His head hung low as he let a few more tears fall down the bridge of his nose and drip against the grass. Sensing a presence behind him, Dean pushed himself off the grass and turned around to see Zachariah standing with a smirk to his lips. He took his index and middle finger and gently pressed them against his forehead.

Taking in a sharp breath, Dean shot up from the bed of his motel room drenched in a cold sweat. His eyes looked about the room to notice he was back in 2009. He sighed softly and let his gaze flicker to the door that was opening.

"Hey, Dean, look the store didn't have any apple pie so I got you cherry instead, is that o–?" You were interrupted after you placed the bags down on the table as you noticed Dean hurried off the bed to walk towards you.

He cupped your face and pressed his lips against your passionately. You were taken back at first, but eased into the gesture and let your hands hold his wrists softly. Your lips molded together effortlessly. His tongue slipped between your lips and battled with yours for a moment.

"Dean.." You released a soft breath after he pulled back, your cheeks flushed with heat. "Are you okay?" You smiled softly at him.

"Yeah.. I am now," Dean muttered and gazed down at you fondly. You smiled sweetly and felt him dip his head down to kiss you once again.

a/n: hi, my dears! so i've been feeling really down in the dumps lately and writing with dean has been helping a ton. i hope these comfort you guys in any way. i love you all very dearly. be safe and treat people with kindness. — angelina.

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thewxtchwhowrites · 2 years

Text

Don’t boss me around – part 2

Summary: Hunting is not easy, especially when one of your companions tries to boss you around.

Characters: Dean x reader.

Words: 1209 words.

Warnings: Dean Winchester being Dean Winchester. Kissing and soft touching (oh yes, touching that chest)

A/N: This second part has been dancing in my mind all day. I had to write it down now, the sound was like an angelic buzz.

First part here.

Dean's words continued to dance in your head like two little devils in front of a pot in hell.

Who the hell, ironically speaking, did he think he was?

The worst thing is that you knew that this situation was not the first time it had happened, it had happened more than three or four times.

You heard a knock on your hotel room door, as you rearranged the parts of your gun on the hotel table. It was a soft knock, you knew it couldn't be room service because you had specifically asked for it not to be available and, besides, it was the middle of the night.

You stood up from the chair as carefully as possible, picked up the other gun you had on the table, and placed it behind you.

It could be one of the vampires who came to exact revenge for the hunt a few hours ago. When you opened the door, you recognized him immediately.

"Hello..." Dean hissed. You and him looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. You narrowed your eyes, remembering the previous situation.

"Aren't you supposed to be in a bar, bothering a girl?" You spoke sarcastically with a smile on your lips, as you returned to the table to finish cleaning the gun that was in pieces on the table.

You left the door open for him, even though you wanted to close it on his stupid, perfect face.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm bothering you..." An awkward laugh escaped Dean's mouth, making you realize he looked like he'd been drinking.

Maybe he was working up enough courage to knock on your door, you thought.

It also crossed your mind that if looks could really kill a person, you knew that thanks to your look after that comment he would be on the floor of the room stiff as a sausage.

Dean stumbled to the edge of your bed in complete silence, looking thoughtful like he was mentally choosing his words or like he was talking to you in his head.

But in reality he was looking at your hands, the sinful way —according to him— with which you cleaned your weapon so carefully. Besides, he was also thinking about the way you had confronted him.

“I know we started off on the wrong foot…”

You felt like those words from him were turning into a grudging apology.

You noticed that it was not something very common for him, from the few conversations you had sometimes with Sam.

"Hmm, that's true..." You responded, slightly surprised. "Are you apologizing, Dean Winchester?"

Big mistake to have asked that question. You stopped cleaning the gun to look at his face, his eyes pointed to the ground and he nodded.

"Well yes, but to tell the truth..." He slurred his words slightly due to his slight state of intoxication. "... I must make it clear that if it weren't for the fact that you are sometimes a brat, none of that discussion would have happened."

You watched as a proud smile appeared on his face.

You slammed the half-assembled gun on the table as you stood up from your chair and were ready to head towards him at a fast pace. Not only that, but you were more than ready to punch that precious face, probably carved by God himself.

"Eres un..."

Before you could start arguing with him, he stood up to grab one of your wrists and in one quick movement he carried you to the wall and pinned you against it and, of course, against him.

You gasped, expecting anything from him but that.

"Let go of me…" You demanded while looking at those emerald eyes that detailed every millimeter of your face, as if he were going to forget you tomorrow because of a spell, you tried to struggle with him "… Dean Winchester!"

His lips moved to your ear, and he whispered in a slightly intimate and raspy voice, which made you feel a slight shiver down your spine.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I don't think I haven't noticed that you love it when I give you orders…"

After those words Dean brought his face back in front of you, his eyes look at you seductively, as he begins to caress your chin, neck and cheeks.

Without warning, he pressed his lips against yours hungrily, and you let him do it. You'd been craving it for so long, and apparently he too.

You groaned under your breath as his lips roughly caressed yours. Your hands, which were caressing his forearms, slowly went up his chest, passing through his black flannel until they reached the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss by intertwining your fingers in his hair.

Dean is starting to bite your lower lip, feeling like he really desired your taste.

When you tried to get your hands under the burgundy shirt he was wearing, which was honestly getting in the way. Dean cut the kiss and abruptly let go of your hips.

For some reason you stayed surprised for a few seconds trying to figure out what had happened since the push was somewhat abrupt.

"I'm sorry…"

Dean murmured, staring at his hands for a few seconds, and then turned his green eyes to yours.

"This… shouldn't happen, it can't, not now and not this way…"

He shook his head, as if fighting an intrusive thought in his mind, and simply walked out the door of the hotel room, slamming it.

Leaving you alone, pressed against the wall of the room for a short period of time, you had noticed that Dean sometimes acted in a more aggressive and dominant manner than usual.

That situation in some way or another, it seemed that Sam had also noticed it although the two of you had never brought up the subject, at least not yet.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean x you #spn #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #spn fic #supernatural #supernatural x reader #thewxtchwhowrites

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mlmxreader · 2 months

Text

For I Have Sinned | Dean Winchester x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi can I request “Nothing, just… you look really good right now” with dean please ❞

: ̗̀➛ You get a little bit hot under the collar seeing Dean in a particular outfit.

: ̗̀➛ heavy sexual referencing & innuendo, swearing

↳ MINORS DNI

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Admittedly, it was very rare for you and the Winchesters to ever really cross paths accidentally; whenever you worked a job together it was done so on purpose, and often arranged in advance so that you knew where to stay and what was going on.

But this time was different, as a small rural village in pretty much nowhere had been plagued with stories of a werewolf, and you didn’t have time to contact the Winchesters about it before they were bursting into your motel room together dressed as priests.

It made you want to laugh, really, but when they started asking about work, you could only shake your head as you held up your palms.

“Boys, boys!” You shouted, trying not to grin. “Settle down already, I’ve only just got here, alright?”

Carefully, Dean sat on your bed as he folded his arms across his chest; Sam leaned against the wall mimicking his brother’s posture, which made you sigh as you gently tapped your thighs. Unable to keep your eyes off of Dean as you swallowed thickly.

“So, what’d you know?” Dean asked, almost impatient as he raised his brows and stared directly at you.

You shook your head, chewing at the inside of your lip. “Honestly? Pretty much fuck all at this point. You?”

“About the same,” Dean agreed with a curt nod, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a moment before he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Sammy? Could you, erm, could you go grab somethin’ to eat while we talk?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said slowly, looking between you and Dean for a moment before leaving.

“Quit lookin’ at my mouth,” Dean told him, resting his forearm on his knee and glaring at you. “Now ain’t the time.”

You sighed as you chewed at the inside of your mouth. “Oh, so it’s my fault that you decided to dress up as the only attractive priest on the planet?”

He shrugged. “What about that guy, erm… Andrew whatever?”

“He’s not attractive,” you scoffed. “But seriously, it’s just nothing, just… you look really good right now and, yeah! It’s a little bit distracting!”

Dean laughed softly as he shook his head fondly; he could have said the same about you with your old band t-shirt and matching hoodie, camouflage cargo trousers and beaten up brown boots.

He really could have said the same about you, given how you kept biting your fucking lip and how you were sat with your legs spread; he hardly growled as he swiped his hand down his face, swallowing thickly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried - in vain - to take his eyes away from your mouth for even just a quick moment. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking about the last time you were in a motel together alone.

He almost gave up, until you shifted in your seat and grunted under your breath - it almost immediately drew his attention directly to you.

“Dean!” You almost shouted, making him blink quickly before shaking his head in shock. “Let me guess - suddenly you’re distracted, too, right?”

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat awkwardly as he rubbed his mouth. “Yeah, erm… yeah. Sorry.”

You shook your head, taking in a deep breath as you tried to steady and steel your nerves. “So what the fuck do we do? We can’t… how the fuck are we meant to go hunting if we can’t even sit in a room together?”

“I can get changed,” he murmured. “Dump the whole Father Brodén schtick and find something else. Maybe, erm… I think I got an Agent Taylor or somethin’ stashed away somewhere, I don’t-”

“No,” you said softly, quietly. “No, you don’t need to do that - I’ll, I’ll sit this one out, do base research from here.”

Dean shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, I can’t let you do that. You were here first, this is your hunt.”

“Dean,” you sighed. “We can’t do shit if we’re like this. You know that, and I know that.”

“So what do we do?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

“Well, Sam’s out,” you mused, pursing your lips for a moment. “I’m sure we could, erm, y’know… lock the door, keep the window shut and erm… let loose, don’t you think?”

Dean seemed to consider it, swallowing thickly as he shifted where he sat for a moment. “Conflict of interest.”

“Hmm?” You furrowed your brows as you frowned.

“There’s you and me,” he started, “we don’t see each other often, you know the life - think we can even work together if we’re… lettin’ loose all the time?”

You shrugged, clasping your hands together between your legs as you swallowed thickly. “I’m willing to give it a shot, are you?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would be… c’mere a sec, though.”

You got up, your legs a little shaky as you walked over to him, surprised when he pulled you down onto his lap, licking his lips and grinning; you put your hands on his shoulders, eyeing up the white collar around his neck for a moment.

“You should dress as a priest more,” you breathed out, taking a moment to stare at his lips.

Dean nodded, shifting his hips so that you were right on him. “Noted. You should wear that tight shirt more.”

You squeezed his shoulders a little, breath hitching in your throat. “Noted.”

You couldn’t help it, one hand going to his hair and the other at the nape of his neck as you caught him in a quick kiss; immediately, Dean kissed back, grunting softly when you tugged at his hair gently to pull him closer.

The kiss became open mouthed and heavy, making you squirm a little when you pulled away, looking at how shiny and plump his lips were for a moment.

“Dean…”

“I’m gonna take my shoes off,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna lie down - you gonna join me?”

“Well, fuck it” you breathed out, laughing for a second. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

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ellen-reincarnated1967 · 1 year

Text

After your shower, you acted like everything was copacetic, joking with the guys, drinking some beers, while chowing down on Dean’s infamous burgers. Extra bacon, a fried egg, and some hot sauce, Dean knew the way to your heart. ‘If only that asshole did’, you thought to yourself.

Truth was, the Winchesters could read you like a tome. The small scrunching of your nose like you just smelled sulfur, the furrowing of your brow when something was amiss, the absentminded way you would chew on your bottom lip. In between the banter, there were tells. Poker was never your card game of choice.

Dean and Sam continued to joke along with you, telling you stories from their most recent hunts, throwing back ale and swallowing bites of burger, with laughter, but they had their tells too. The way Dean would cover his mouth with his fingers, almost wiping away the murderous thoughts, his index finger rubbing his upper lip raw. Sam too had his tells. He’d fidget with the label on his beer bottle, seemingly caressing the neck, but catching himself as he began to choke the neck of said bottle.

“Some’n should really teach’m a lesson,” you slurred, looking at Dean, snapping your fingers at him.

“Really dink Rowena could spell a spare?”

Sam guffawed at your inebriation and Dean chuckled, “okay Sweetheart, you’re cut off.”

“Mm not drunk,” you smacked his hand away from taking your bottle, “just pissed.” You pouted.

“Same, Princess,” Dean grumbled and Sam quirked an eyebrow, the brothers secretly mind melding on a similar thought. You missed it of course, as Sam pocket dialed, but you did catch Dean’s cell chirp.

Grabbing the phone, Dean made quick conversation, emphatically nodding, “Yeah, uh, Jody, shoot me the coordinates I could be there by morning.”

“Lemme grab my bag,” you shot up from your chair, your legs buckling.

“Yeah, that’s a hard no, Y/N,” Dean quirked, “Sammy will get you to bed,” with a nod to his brother, Sam agreed.

“Come on, lightweight,” Sam lifted you bridal style.

“Text you when I get there,” Dean collected the empty bottles and headed towards the kitchen before making his way to the garage. “Should be a cake walk.”

“Sham,” you patted his chest, “now’s your chance,” you attempted to raise your eyebrows in a failed attempt at flirtation; you did always have a thing for the tallest Winchester.

“I, uh, umm I’m flattered, Y/N,” he stuttered and was about to tell you that he rather not take advantage while you were under the influence, small snores began to reverberate off his chest.

Sam’s cheeks reddened at his embarrassment, “that was close.”

Tags: @princessmisery666 @manawhaat @mrswhozeewhatsis @iwantthedean @d-s-winchester @crashdevlin @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch

#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #sam x reader #dean x reader #yn x winchesters #spn fluff #spn angst #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #supernatural oneshot #supernatural imagine #part three of my therapy lol

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the-rad-pineapple · 1 year

Text

Survivor's Guilt

It's just Adam and Michael on a routine supply run.

Adam hates Michael.

First off, he wears this dark overcoat thing with these long laced-up boots that make him look like he's trying to be an anime character or something. It definitely doesn't look cool. And he's a little too good at killing that Adam always wonders what he did before. To be fair, Michael is kind of a badass, but it's still strange. Like, who is this guy? Adam's heard every rumor, and asked everyone he could, but none of the stories match or make sense. It's frustrating.

Adam tried to get out of the supply run in every way he could think of. He tried to trade shifts. He tried to sleep in too late. But a lot of their people have a terrible cold, so anyone available isn't well enough to trade with him. And, to top it all off, Michael woke Adam up bright and early. He didn't want them to be late. They have to be on time apparently. Adam isn't sure what for. There aren't a lot of places you have to be on time for anymore.

They have to go through an abandoned mall Adam's been wanting to check out, so that's kind of exciting. Adam's trying to see it as a positive thing. Apparently, Michael's been through there a few times already. So, it should be fine.

Which means it isn't.

There's a breeze in the air, making everything a little cold. They're just on the edge of spring where any day now things will start to be warmer. It brings a buzz of impatience that hums just beneath Adam's skin. They travel on a small, worn path in the dead grass. They're still close to camp, so Adam feels safe enough not to pay that close attention to his surroundings and lets himself fall into the comfortable rhythm of walking. His brain is peacefully quiet. It's a rarity, so he allows himself to enjoy it.

His medicinal pack hangs lightly on his back. He carries it everywhere, so he feels wrong without it now. But he can never get used to his holster. It's strapped to his right thigh and starts to become heavy and annoying almost as soon as they begin walking, so he takes the pistol out and slips it into the back of his waistband.

"What are you doing?" Michael hadn't even looked at him. Adam has no idea how he saw that. Fucking annoying.

"It's comfier here."

"It's more difficult to get to there. Put it back."

As if Michael actually cares. He just likes bossing people around. Sure, Michael can get away with it at camp where he has more of a leadership position (that he's unfortunately really good at), but he's not getting away with it alone with Adam. "No."

Adam watches Michael grind his jaw, but he keeps his lips pressed closed. He still doesn't look at Adam. The small bit of satisfaction that settles in his chest makes Adam have to bite back a smile.

They walk for a few more minutes, and Adam allows himself to relax again, but then Michael says, "You're going to get killed."

Will he just shut up? "Okay," Adam says briskly. He hopes Michael gets the fucking hint and leaves him alone.

Of course he doesn't. Michael stops and spins to look at Adam. His hair swirls at the suddenness of the movement and frames his face. His eyes are sharp and fierce.

Heat builds between Adam's legs.

"This isn't a game, Adam."

Adam swallows. He sighs to try and feign nonchalance.

"Adam."

The way he says that. The situation in Adam's pants is about to be fucking noticeable.

Adam rolls his eyes but takes his pistol out from his waistband and makes a show of returning it to his holster. He looks Michael in the eyes. "There. Happy now?"

"No. But this is an improvement." Michael is always so literal and serious. And it's…okay, it's a little endearing. It levels out the hot intensity he has when he's ordering people (Adam) around. Michael swiftly turns back and begins walking again. Adam follows.

They branch off of the path somewhere Adam's never been to before. His heart flips in excitement at the prospect of something new. He doesn't realize he's walking faster until he's beside Michael. Michael glances at him with this cool, calculating look he has. Michael can do this thing where he doesn't show any emotion on his face when he's taking something in. It's usually the look he gets when thinking up a battle plan. Adam's seen it in action. It's kind of hot if Adam is being honest. …But it's also been a while since Adam had any type of interaction like that, so who really knows.

They keep walking. And walking. And walking. Adam gets bored until Michael slows down a little.

"When we get there, I'll go upstairs, and you'll stay downstairs. Understand?"

Adam frowns. "Why?"

"Because you'll be keeping watch for me."

"But I want to come with you." The second it leaves his mouth, Adam cringes. He sounds like a whiny kid pleading with his mom.

"No. It's more dangerous upstairs, and we both know I'm a better fighter than you."

His words cut, and Adam feels quick rage stab through his chest. "Fuck you. I'm a good fighter."

Michael sighs in exasperation. "I never said you weren't. I'm just better."

"You're an asshole," Adam spits.

Michael stops and stares. He's standing completely rigid. His eyes are cool and closed off again. He's entirely expressionless.

"What."

Michael asks, "Are you done? Because we actually have something to do here." His annoyance fills the air with taught tension.

Seriously, fuck this guy. Adam brushes past him, making sure to clip him on the shoulder.

Bitterly, "You're a child."

Adam continues to ignore him.

Michael catches up to him, and they keep walking in tense silence until they leave the small woods and step onto asphalt. Adam slows.

The mall is huge. It's been a while since Adam's seen a large building. It's sun-bleached. The windows on the front doors are smashed. There are only a few cracks on the outside. It looks relatively untouched. Maybe just a little old and worn. It seems like it should be nostalgic, but it's all so different now that Adam feels nothing.

"Do you remember the plan?"

Adam jumps and immediately feels his face heat up in embarrassment. "Yeah. I stay downstairs."

"Good."

They make their way through the parking lot. Weeds spread out from the cracks. The only car is a burnt Subaru. Adam wonders how it caught fire. He envisions violence and desperation and the forms of twisted bodies devouring fresh flesh. His mom used to drive a Subaru. He tears his eyes away.

The mall casts a large shadow, and it's cold without the sun. They reach the doors and crunch through a pile of glass. The loud sound rings alarm bells in Adam's head, but Michael pays it no mind, so Adam follows.

And then they're inside.

The entire atmosphere is different. It's quiet but big. There's no breeze, and it's warmer in a stuffy, indoors way. Sunlight flows through the doors and the skylights on the tall ceiling. It's serene. It feels as if Adam's stepped into a cathedral.

Michael is close enough that Adam can feel his body heat. Michael shifts and gently squeezes Adam's arm.

Adam stares in alarm. Did Michael hear something? Is something coming?

Michael gives his arm a second reassuring squeeze while pressing his index finger to his lips.

Adam swallows and nods.

Michael nods back before releasing Adam's arm. He's somehow colder without Michael's touch and nearly shivers.

He watches Michael skirt towards the wall. He has one hand on his own pistol. He cautiously looks into each empty store he passes. He's fast and quiet. He rounds a corner, and Adam sees him start up a flight of stairs before he's lost behind a wall blocking Adam's view.

Adam leans against the wall nearest to him and really takes in the scenery. It's been so long since he's been somewhere new. And somewhere from before.

All of the storefronts are broken and smashed. Miscellaneous products are strewn across the floor. There's a broken lava lamp in front of a Holister. A torn BTS poster lays beneath a bench. Purple Victoria's Secret panties are beside Adam's foot, and he nudges them. They're torn. And there's blood on them.

He pushes off the wall to look at something else. He glances up at the skylights and catches a glimpse of the moon. She looks the same as she always has.

Adam keeps his breath quiet and strains his ears for any sign of Michael. Nothing.

Something sparkles in the corner of his eye, and he turns to look. There's something on the floor near a Zale's at the very end of the hall. A ring? A watch? Adam wants it. He pauses to listen one more time. It's silent, so he makes his way towards the sparkly thing.

And Adam knows he's technically supposed to be lookout, but Michael is so quick and efficient that Adam knows he isn't really needed. The only thing he's good for is patching up a wound, and he's not even the best one at that. So he isn't being as quiet as he should be. Unlike Michael. Michael's always quiet. He's always vigilant. Adam never is. If it's his time to go, then so be it. Adam won't stop it. He might even be inviting it.

He definitely is when he's noisily walking down the tiled floor of the mall, his eyes glancing over to the dry fountain in the center. It's surrounded by elevators. It must've been quite a sight when it was fully operational. Even now it's beautiful. Maybe even more so with its emptiness and the cracks filled with green and yellow dandelions. There's a shuffle and a grunt—an unmistakable grunt—that turns Adam's blood to ice. And that's when he spots them.

There's a small huddle of zombies in the Claire's right next to him. They look odd in there. All unclothed, decaying flesh surrounded by purples and pinks and glittery things. There's a fleeting moment where Adam thinks they didn't notice him. But then the one next to the piercing chair snaps its head in his direction. It screeches and bursts towards him. Its horrid screech and thundering footsteps echo through the entire building. The ones next to it immediately follow.

Adam's heartbeat skyrockets, and he runs as fast as he fucking can in the other direction. There's no way he can take them on. They're too quick, and he's too close.

He's running past the Holister when he hears one of their breaths close. And then closer. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's right there. It's right fucking there. He fucking feels its breath. And this is it. This is fucking it. This is how he dies.

Isn't this what he wanted?

A deafening bang so loud that Adam can't hear.

He keeps running. He doesn't stop. But the noise throws him off so badly that he misses the doors. He isn't sure where he's going, but he spots the stairs and runs up them. He chances a look behind himself and nearly trips.

Michael is somehow behind the zombies, pistol in his outstretched hand. A dead zombie lies by the Holister. It's the one that almost got Adam. The rest of the zombies have turned to the source of the sound. The moment stretches into an eternity until the zombie closest to Michael lunges at him.

Bang.

Four down. The remaining three are nearly upon him. And then Michael takes out a fucking machete from somewhere in his fucking overcoat thing. He swings, and the first one's head falls to the floor. He dodges the second and manages to swipe as it passes him, beheading that one too. But the third one is close and manages to tackle Michael from behind. Adam's heart stops.

No.

Fuck.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Not Michael.

Oh, god, please no.

Not Michael.

Please.

read the rest on ao3

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marchtothefuckingsea · 1 year

Text

A Demon’s Oath - Crowley

My Masterlist.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, injury and gore.

hurt/comfort, enemies to allies

Summary: "I'll give you five minutes to leave my sight. After that? Pray I never see you again."

I flipped the angel blade in my hand as another demon came at me, swinging around and sinking the blade into his chest. The blade came out with a sharp yank, and I was ready with it just in time for the other demon I had kicked in the gut. I shoved the empty meatsuit to the ground with a grimace, and continued deeper into the warehouse. All my senses were on alert.

I thought I heard a shuffle on the concrete floor, the sound of a shoe scraping the stone ever so slightly, and I whipped around. There stood the king of hell himself. Crowley. I narrowed my eyes at him, readying my blade.

"Calm down, darling. I'm sure we can be civil about this." He raised his hands in what was meant to be a non-threatening gesture.

"Like that's ever happened before." I spat.

He snorted. "Only because of you Winchesters." He argued. "I would be more than willing to have a calm discussion."

"Anywho," He clasped his hands together. "No need to stall. I know what you're here for."

"You don't know jack." I tried to hide my surprise.

"You're here to kill me, are you not? My wonderful mother wants me dead, and in return she'll decipher the Book of the Damned so you can rid our dearest Dean of the Mark of Cain." He paused. "Did I miss anything?"

I shifted into a fighting stance in response.

"Well, go on then. I'm giving you a head start." At the arrogant tone of his voice, I lost it. I lunged, but was immediately flung into a concrete pillar. The angel blade clattered to the ground.

While I was pinned by his demonic magic, he picked up my blade and examined it lazily. "I'm glad to see you came prepared, at least. I have to say, I respect you for that more than your brothers. You're not as stupid as you look."

"Thanks." I responded sarcastically, gritting my teeth. Crowley turned the blade over in his hand a few times, before dragging the tip of it over my stomach experimentally. I hissed in pain, struggling against my invisible bonds.

"Listen, I know why you're doing this. You're desperate. Otherwise, you wouldn't be working with that bitch mother of mine."

The demon king watched my blood run down the blade, down the handle, and over his knuckles. "I can't say I understand where you're coming from, but I guess I can't blame you."

He tucked the knife into his jacket, and his gaze hardened. The invisible force released me, and I fell to the floor with a groan, pressing an arm to my stomach. I staggered to my feet, leaning heavily on the pillar.

"I'm giving you five minutes to leave my sight." He said, meeting my glare.

"And after that?"

"Pray I never see you again." I watched him for a moment, realizing he was serious. He was going to let me walk away, just like that.

My pride would take quite the hit, but I didn't have any other tricks up my sleeve. He had taken my angel blade, and it would be pointless to fight him now. With one final distrustful glance, I forced my feet to carry me out of the warehouse. They dragged on the gravel as I approached my car, woozy from blood loss. I was seeing double as I drove back to the bunker, but I didn't care. We needed to cure Dean very, very soon. And without Rowena's help, as much as I hated to admit it, there was no way we could do it.

"I'm not telling you shit." I spat at the demon, wrenching against the rope that tied my wrists to the chair. She had managed to get the upper hand on me. She knocked me out and I had woken up only a few minutes ago with a punch to the jaw.

"You'll tell me where the witch is, or I'll kill you." She growled, slicing across my arm. I hissed in pain.

I glared up at her. "That wouldn't be very smart now, would it?"

"Then I guess you're not leaving 'till you give me what I want." The demon bent down to my level, her black eyes glittering.

"Good luck on that one, sister." I was cut off with a groan when she cut my other arm with the serrated blade, deeper this time than the other.

She paused, waiting for a response from me of any kind. When I didn't give her what she wanted, she plunged the blade into my shoulder. I let out an agonized sound, clenching my teeth. She pulled the blade out before licking my blood off of it. I glared at her in disgust.

"I could do this for hours, you know." She started. "Days. Weeks, even."

"Yeah, and so could I." I grit my teeth. "But something tells me you don't have that kind of time."

"I'll make it." She snapped. I could tell I hit a nerve.

I shifted in the chair, blood running down my chest. It was sticky and uncomfortable. But most of all, it was something that was not supposed to be outside of my body, and definitely not in these quantities.

"What if I did tell you where Rowena is?" I asked cautiously, working at a thin spot in my sleeve with a fingernail.

The demon shrugged, her back turned to me. "Then I'd let you go."

I gently wiggled my fingertips into the material, pulling out a razor blade. I began to work at my bindings. "That simple, huh?"

"That simple." She agreed. The rope came away from my wrist, and I carefully untied the other.

As soon as I rose from the chair, dizzy from blood loss, she turned on her heel to face me. "Oh please." She sighed in annoyance. With a flick of her hand, I was slammed into a brick wall. I groaned, black spots dotting my vision. I opened my mouth, but she cut me off.

"You're a Winchester, and I'm not stupid." She said, calmly twirling the knife in her hand. I watched, unable to do anything else. Her eyes were indecisive until she paused and eyed me over.

"Last time someone looked at me like that I-" I began to quip, but I ended it with a sharp gasp. The demon plunged the blade into my stomach. I didn't feel anything at first, just shock and numbness. It wasn't until I was dropped to the ground and the blade had been pulled out that I felt the white hot pain.

I twisted onto my side, but the demon was quicker. She grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. Everything spun for a second, but I wasn't sure if it was from the shock, or from teleporting. All I knew was when my eyes focused, we were in a dingy hallway. It was dimly lit by torches on the wall.

She yanked me alongside her, leaving me no choice but to follow. My heart pounded in my ears and my drooped head allowed me to watch the trail of my blood that was left behind us. We turned a corner, and then several more. I was barely conscious. By the time we made it to a set of doors, I hung limply from her grip. She all but dragged me through them.

I was shoved in front of her, where I managed to stay on my feet for a shocking three seconds before crumpling to the floor in a heap. I could barely make out my surroundings, or the voices discussing something. My whole body shivered and I felt like I was freezing; I knew it was shock.

"My lord." The demon said formally. "They know where the Winchesters are keeping Rowena."

"And?" I recognized the accented voice, but my brain was lagging.

"They will not give up the information."

"Isn't that supposed to be your job? You want me to do your job for you?" He snapped, raising his voice. I cringed when I realized it was Crowley. I twisted onto my side, gasping at the pain in my stomach.

"No, my lord." She stammered. "I was hoping you would have better luc-"

"Off with you." He sighed in annoyance, waving his hand. "I'll deal with them."

There was a tense silence before I heard her footsteps retreat. The doors snapped shut with an eerie finality. Fear took over, and I began to struggle onto my forearms.

He rose from his throne, and polished shoes came into view. My breath hitched in my throat when he stopped in front of me.

"I didn't come here by choice." I tried to defend myself. "I'll leave."

He said nothing, instead opting to kneel beside me.

"Get away from me." I broke off with a ragged cough, squeezing my eyes shut. Another bloody cough wracked my body. I fell back onto my side shaking and gasping for air.

I felt arms around me. Crowley pulled me against him. His arm across my back forced me to lie somewhat upright so I didn't drown in my own blood. I pressed a hand to my abdomen in a pathetic attempt of self preservation.

As soon as the coughs subsided, I barely waited to catch my breath. I began to struggle against him weakly. His grip on me tightened and I couldn't stop the whimper of fear that escaped my throat. "No-"

"Relax." He muttered. "I'm not going to harm you."

"Let me go." I coughed.

"I'm afraid you wouldn't even make it out of this room on your own in your condition, love." He shifted me in his arms, pushing me back down to the floor. My face screwed up in pain at the slight movement.

His hand moved to my shoulder, causing me to react out of instinct. I gripped his wrist weakly in defense. I knew it wouldn't stop him at all, but he paused, looking between my bloody face and my grip on his hand.

"I'm not going to harm you." He reminded me. I shook my head, trying to push his hand away.

This time he grabbed my hand, holding my wrist in a firm grip. I struggled, panic in my eyes and my breathing ragged. I flinched as he passed his hand over my shoulder, but there was no pain that I had been expecting. I felt a slight stinging sensation, and then nothing. Not even the pain that should have been prevalent because of my injury.

I moved my shoulder, and was surprised to find it was healed. My tired eyes flickered to Crowley in surprise.

"I told you I wasn't going to hurt you," He explained. "And I'm a man of my word."

"But you-" I hissed in pain when he passed his hand over the worst injury to my abdomen. It stung a hell of a lot more than the other, but I guessed it was because of the severity of it.

"Things change all the time, do they not?" He watched as I struggled to my feet, mirroring my actions. My head spun and I swayed.

"I'm not telling you where Rowena is." I muttered. He put his hands on my biceps, steadying me. I instinctively flinched at the contact, before I realized we were somewhere else entirely. It took my eyes several moments to focus, but I recognized the warehouse where I had tried to kill him.

"Those idiots are out of the loop." His voice was laced with annoyance.

"So what do you want from me?" I asked, meeting his gaze. He was closer than I expected, but I held my ground, afraid to admit that I wasn't sure if I would stay standing if he wasn't steadying me.

"A favour. In the near future." Crowley answered.

"I didn't ask for you to heal me or whatever it is you did." I argued, pulling away from him. I stumbled, but managed to stay on my feet.

"I promise I wouldn't ask something of you that you are incapable of doing. Or anything that would put you in harm's way." He muttered the last part. I gazed at him distrustfully.

"I sent a text to your brothers." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "They'll be here to pick you up shortly. And one more favour," His eyes seemed to soften.

"Be safe."

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heaven-s-black-box · 6 months

Text

The Butterfly, The Flower, The Spider- Jack x fem!Reader x Belphegor

Return to File

Recovery date: January 16th, 2021

Description: Where Jack and Belphegor fall for the same girl.

Notes: This entry was decoded in conjunction with d3stined_to_explode from research lab Ao3, using the song "The Butterfly, the flower, the spider" covered by Enn Sings.

Word count: 1 022

Back to directory

Though we may lose ourselves in our futile feelings and end up hurting each other, oh merciful goddess of love, please don’t crush this love, simply for your amusement. By chance, I happened to hear that familiar singing voice from my boyhood. That’s how fate had brought me once again to my beloved from the distant past.

Jack didn’t visit earth often. He’d meant it when he told the Winchesters he wouldn’t be directly involved with the world, that he would be everywhere and nowhere. But that didn’t mean he could observe in person. After all, the best way to get something done was to do it yourself.

He was waiting for a light to change when the sound of someone humming caught his attention.

Normally, he wouldn’t pay any attention to it, but it sounded so familiar he couldn’t help but investigate.

Turning the corner he found a young woman curled up under a tree quietly humming to herself. Jack found himself frozen in shock, he hadn’t expected her to be here.

In a single moment, my heart was captured by that unfamiliar face. Ever so quietly, I trapped you, my dancing butterfly in the web of my threads.

“Hi, I’m Belphegor.” He smiled as he gave a small wave.

He watched the anger overcome the Winchester’s and Castiel’s faces. But what really caught his eye was the young woman sitting in the corner clutching her side.

Like the treacherous spider threads trapping their prey while it’s completely unaware, I’m getting my hands on your beautiful wings, my butterfly, still fluttering around so innocently.

“Here, let me help,” Belphegor says, watching as Y/N tries to dress her stab wound by herself.

She glares up at him, but doesn’t pull away.

The other three were off trying to keep the townspeople from panicking, and call in some back ups. Belphegor had followed her when she left to fix her wound.

As carefully as he could, he wasn’t really used to dressing wounds, he stitched her side up and tapped a gauze pad in place.

“Thanks,” she murrumurred.

“No problem sweet heart,” he smiled.

I’ve got you, now that you’ve been trapped in the shimmering threads of my love. Putting a kiss on the scales of your trembling wings, I tied you up gently, ever so gently.

“Can’t sleep?”

Belphegor bit back a laugh as Y/N jumped, spilling her water on the counter, and turned to glare at him.

“No, I want to be up at,” she checked her watch, “ 3 a.m.”

“No need to bite my head off.” He leaned back against the counter and watched her down what he assumed was advil. “So… wanna talk about it?”

“Why do you care?” She asked, finally snapping.

He’d been following her all day, and while she didn’t particularly hate it, it worried her. Who knew what he was plotting? Not to mention it was a very Jack thing to do, and he was very much not Jack.

Whenever she turned to see him behind her, or at her side, a part of her thought it was Jack there.

“Because,” he stepped over to her and tilted her chin up. Leaning forwards, he whispered, “this is fun.”

“…I’m not letting you away, do you know that?”

Closing the distance, he kissed her.

And Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to pull away.

The foolish captured butterfly, unable to run away, can only fall deeper into the trap. Oh merciful goddess of the moon, please don’t bring the night to an end, simply for your amusement.

Holding her wrist, Belphegor pulls Y/N back to where she’d been sleeping.

His hold was light, and she could step away if she wanted to. But maybe it was Jack’s face that made her stay. Or maybe it was her own heart. Either way, she followed silently with no resistance.

Y/N fell asleep that night, with Belphegor holding her close. It’s one of the most peaceful nights she’s had in a long time.

My feelings for him keep growing stronger, but I can only whisper them to myself, like a prayer. The fleeting dream of my first love has been completely crushed.

That night, she dreams of the bunker and Jack. She dreams of movie marathons and late night baking sprees because he doesn’t sleep and she isn’t tired. But most importantly, she dreams of a happiness she never thought she’d feel and a sense of normality.

The next morning, she wakes up alone with dried tears staining her cheeks.

Like a flower that can only wait in silence for the butterfly to descend on it, the only thing I can do is to look at you from afar, my butterfly, as you flutter around so sweetly. Despite the urge to talk to her, Jack stays away.

Instead, he looks around and spots an ice cream cart. Quickly making his way over, he orders a twist cone and takes a seat on one of the stone walls nearby.

Looking up, he notices that Y/N isn’t alone. He then realized she hadn’t been humming to herself, but rather the young boy now sound asleep on her lap.

You’re like a butterfly that has gracefully descended on my budding flower of love, and you’ve captured my heart. Drunken on the fragrance of the nectar you took from me, I burn for you, though it’s only in secret.

Both Jack and Y/N are unaware of the second pair of eyes watching her.

Across from Jack, Belphegor leans back on a tree branch.

He’d recently been revived, though he didn’t think anyone knew. And with the current state of hell, that was to say it was much too peaceful for his taste, he’d decided to explore the world.

That had led him here, to somewhere in Canada, where he’d picked up on some rumors of a familiar hunter. It hadn’t taken him long to find Y/N from there.

Both the nephilim and demon sat in an odd sense of serenity as they watched the person with the key to their hearts.

“…I love you.”

#researcher s's recovery #supernatural #supernatural x reader #jack kline #supernatural belphegor #jack kline x reader #spn belphegor x reader #spn belphegor x reader x jack kline #x reader #female reader #rating unavailable #oneshot #SPN oneshot

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freakwiththeknifecollection · 2 years

Text

Can't Keep My Eyes off of You

Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester

Words: 362 | Rated: T | AO3

Summary:

They'd been dating for some time now, and yet Dean still finds himself awestruck by her.

Tags: flirting, established relationship, dating, idiots in love, third wheel Sam, one shot

Preview:

The brothers loitered in the motel parking lot waiting for Jo to finish getting ready. Sam sat on the hood with his laptop open on his lap, while Dean leaned back against his hands on the top of the grill, legs outstretched. They made idle chit-chat about the case, and what Dean wanted for breakfast, respectively. Once Jo finally emerged, her boyfriend had stopped participating in the conversation as soon as he laid eyes on her, not even hearing what Sam was saying as actual words anymore, just white noise.

Dean bit his lip, white knuckling the rim of the Impala's hood. "God, you look like you were poured into those jeans, babe."

"Eugh." Sam said pointedly in disgust with the naive assumption that would change his brother's behavior.

"Shut up." Jo scolded out of embarrassment, though she could hardly fight the grin brought on by the compliment.

"What?" Dean asked innocently in reply to them both. "A guy can't comment on his girlfriend's outfit?"

"Not if you're gonna be gross about it." Argued his brother.

"Hey, if my girlfriend is walkin around lookin like a stone-cold fox, I'm gonna tell her." He pushed himself off the hood and sidled up to Jo.

His hands snaked around her waist and slipped into her back pockets as he pulled her against him. She held her hands flat against his chest as a precaution in case he got carried away, and, admittedly, to hold herself accountable as well. They were on a timetable, there was no room for any of his shenanigans in broad daylight. But, Dean was nothing if not persistent. He muttered sweet, albeit inappropriate, nothings while an abashed smile formed on her flushing face.

Jo cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips. "Later," she promised, then replaced her finger with her lips. She kept the kiss to a quick peck, knowing how easily they could get caught up in the moment if she lingered. At the same time, she removed his hands from her pockets, freeing herself for a hassle-free getaway. "C'mon, we've got work to do." She encouraged, and set off to join Sam in the car.

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#chestervelle #deanjo #dean winchester #jo harvelle #chestervelle fanfic #chestervelle fanfiction #deanjo fanfiction #deanjo fanfic #supernatural #spn #spn oneshot #supernatural one shot

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