#dean winchester soulmates au

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 3

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1418

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but it's finally here! You and Dean finally meet, and the world you've just settled into threatens to give in // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 2

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

From the moment you had left Ellen's bar, you had felt a unique kind of dread, the emptiness in your heart widening with each step you took away from the person you had destined to be with. 

But it is the best for both of you, that you are sure of. 

You don't hesitate to admit that you are selfish to try to save yourself from prospective heartbreak or have the possibility of going through what your mother had gone through, especially when you now knew that he was a hunter as well. 

"Morning, Y/N." Chris mutters with a quick kiss to your neck as he hugs you from behind. 

"Good morning." You smile as you turn and close the gap between your lips. You were making coffee after getting up from the bed you share with Chris, and this has become a new normal for you. 

It has been a couple of weeks since you landed in the small town of New Harmony, Indiana.

Excluding a few aches, cuts and bruises that aren't visible or have a cause, you have had no interactions with the supernatural - willingly keeping off from reading news or watching it on the TV.

You know your intuitions won’t help pick off the signs of those activities in the world, you're just going to ignore it.

Well, you did investigate Old Neil's Cabin, and having found that he hasn't hurt anyone yet, you let him be - but not before making a note on where he is buried. 

It's a simple start to the day as it has been for a while now, and for some reason, there remains a feeling that something is wrong - or better yet, something is missing.

Still, as you help around Chris’ family diner and motel, there remains the familiar signs of adrenalin rush that you know come from hunting, even when you’re doing something as mundane as getting a plate of fries to the customers.

There is random quickening of your heartbeat, and the dreams of his green eyes, when you’ve only seen them once.

So in this quaint little town, the sun dips below the horizon once more, casting a warm glow across the streets. Your break from the hunting life gave you a little bit of solace in this peaceful corner of the world. The semblance of normalcy feels like a weird sense of relief.

And today, it just seems like it will be happier than many before.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester, the ever-determined hunter, was on the road once again with Sam beside him. This time, he is a little serious - with the short time frame of his inevitable death hanging over his head. 

But he is happy today, it's his birthday today, and Sam got him a box of little things, from his favorite aftershave to a smart-looking watch.

He feels a little guilty while thanking him because he doesn't trust him enough to keep a secret from Ruby, he hasn’t told his brother about his soulmate yet. 

He doesn’t want to know what limits the demons will test with someone they can hurt him with, even without getting a hold of him.

“I’m hungry.” Sam complains while reading a newspaper. 

“I’ll pull up to the next diner I see.” Dean says. “Besides, it's been too long since I got a belly full of something cheesy.”

“You had a lunch full of cholesterol yesterday, Dean.” Sam reprimands him with a shake of his head.

Dean’s stomach rumbles just in time as a reply to Sam’s comment. “Let’s find some food in this town.”

Some time later, they come across a diner, and Dean wastes no time hauling up next to it. The bell above the door tinkles as they enter.

“Finally.” Dean mutters, glancing around the diner. It isn't overly crowded, probably just a few locals scattered across the booths. He spots an empty seat by the window and starts walking towards it, Sam following closely.

As Dean studies the menu, Sam leans across the table. “You know, man, you’ve been acting a bit weird lately. Anything you wanna talk about?”

Dean sighs, trying to avoid this conversation. “Not today.” And with efforts to do so, he averts his eyes, flitting them across the diner.

But then, his eyes lock onto a waitress, her seeming oddly recognizable. He swallows hard, torn between his instinct to approach and the fear of her reaction.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulls him from his trance. “You okay?”

He shakes his head, plastering on a faint smile to mask his nervousness. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Sam comments.

You smile at Ellie as you get her order, a usual patron of the diner. You feel unusually happy today, and while you don’t know the reason why, you don't want to jinx it and so you just go on about your day.

Then your heart starts beating rapidly again, but the palpitations aren’t what you are used to.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes. When you open them, they find green ones - to be more precise, those from your dreams.

Time stands still, and recognition flashes between you two - a connection stronger than memory, a bond forged through shared emotions. Your breath hitches, your soulmate is sitting right in front of you.

You don’t know what to do, and while your heart wants to stay, your brain decides to run away. And so, you hurry through the side door of the diner.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean announces and rushes right after you, leaving Sam with no second thought.

You’re there, standing against the wall under the streetlamp in the back alley, your hand against your chest. The night falls, and you look like an angel glowing in the yellow light.

When your eyes join, your hearts start thumping in a turbo-mode and neither of you know if it's because of the bond or due to the other's presence.

“Hi.” Dean whispers, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello,” You whisper back, not wanting to break the bubble that has formed around the two of you.

The traffic from the main road has quietened down, as has the chatter from the busy diner, and all you’re aware of is this beautiful specimen of a man, and your conniving heart which has finally won against your brain.

“How are you?” Dean wants to hit himself just as the words leave his mouth. But then again, what are you supposed to say to your soulmate when you come face to face for the first time?

“I’m good. What about you?” You ask, a smile appearing on his face that you cannot help but match him. And my god, the crinkles that frame his eyes.

“I guess I’m good too - now that I met you.” Both of you laugh, and when your heart finally allows your brain to speak, you start drowning in anxiety, leaving you speechless again.

Everything that you’ve been running from, everything you left behind and everything that you’re up against is on his feet, just a few feet in front of you. Your soulmate.

While it feels like it has been decades, it has been only minutes.

Before you can conjure up a sentence, the side doors open with a thud - and Chris appears, looking tense.

“Everything all right here, Y/N?” Chris asks, staring at Dean as if to determine if there are any signs of aggression, and then settling on you to ensure that you’re fine. “Ellie told me to check up on you.”

His posture straight and hands in a fist, almost like he’s getting ready to fight, fight for you. 

The men stand tall with chests puffed, nearly similar in height as they both try to intimidate each other.

You nod, hoping to calm him. “It’s okay, Chris, this is -” you stop there, not knowing his name.

“Dean,” the man completes. You sheepishly smile at him before turning to Chris.

“Chris, this is Dean, my… My soulmate.” Saying it leaves an unnatural taste in your mouth,

You see his features turn from hostility into those of apprehension as he replies, his eyes narrowed. “I see…”

“Please give me a few minutes, Chris, I’ll come find you.” He gives you one final look, asking indirectly if you’re sure, and you nod with reassurance before he leaves.

“So Y/N, is it?” Dean asks, and you bite your lip.

“Yup. I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

Part 4 (Coming Soon on Tumblr/ Read it on BuyMeACoffee Now!)

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I just started a BuyMeACoffee Page where you can read Chapter 4 right now! Its kind of an emotional one where you have a difficult conversation which will determine where you will go from here.

My BMAC Page also has the first chapter of a new Dean Winchester X Reader story with the following summary: Best friends Dean and Y/N navigate a world of supernatural challenges and unspoken feelings. Sam, the ever observant brother, and Cas, the ever puzzled angel of the lord, discreetly encourage their romance through late-night talks, teasing, and shared hunts. As tension builds and emotions simmer beneath the surface, their journey unfolds through this story.

READ IT HERE- SECRETS OF A HUNTER'S HEART

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It's okay if you can't support me monetory-wise right now, even reblogging my fics help a lot!

Tags in reblog, either comment or reblog this fic if you wanna be tagged in the next part Xx

Thank you so much for your support ♥

Yours Truly,

Vee 💕

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[zepskies]

The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile. 

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well. 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t. 

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed. 

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter. 

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February. 

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful. 

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned. 

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.) 

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it. 

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm. 

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place. 

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable. 

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it. 

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying. 

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room. 

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead. 

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day. 

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings. 

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all. 

Castiel fixed the problem. 

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it. 

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration. 

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age. 

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said. 

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were. 

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked. 

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag. 

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh. 

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.” 

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.” 

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”  

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you. 

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep. 

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former. 

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark. 

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test. 

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however. 

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests. 

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face. 

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven. 

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests. 

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously. 

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat. 

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him. 

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.” 

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears. 

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt. 

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.  

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little. 

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.  

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

#the old-fashioned way #bonus tracks #never say goodbye #bonus track 4 #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #soulmate au #soulmates #castiel #jody mills #bobby singer #zepskies writes

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

#Sam Winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam Winchester x female reader #sam Winchester fanfiction #sam Winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester #sam Winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #soulmate au

[marchtothefuckingsea]

The Devil's Heel - Lucifer (Supernatural)

My Masterlist

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Injury, canon violence and descriptions of gore/injury. Not proofread.

soulmate au (where an angel's soulmate can see their wings because i love thag au so much), x gender neutral reader, no usage of y/n! Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort.

Summary: Reader has a bad past with angels. They get hurt on a hunt and, although they didn't know the devil that has been staying in the bunker was their soulmate, Lucifer comes to the rescue. They're terrified, understandably so.

I groaned in pain as I was thrown into a wall for the second time today. My head slammed backwards against it, and I saw stars. A weak moan left my lips when gravity worked its magic. I slid down ungracefully to the floor, my body a limp heap. My angel blade clattered onto the floor a meter away from me. The demon-who I hadn't identified yet-kicked the knife even further away from my grasping hands; just for good measure.

"You fucking-" I hissed out, shoving myself to my uninjured forearm, hunched over and gasping. My trembling voice did little to hide the panic threatening to claw its way up my throat. This was just supposed to be a salt and burn. Maybe a poltergeist at worst.

"How original." He sneered. A hand came down, gingerly taking my angel blade I always kept at my side. I raised my head and growled, low and raspy, and he suddenly plunged it into my shoulder. A strangled gasp escaped me as I toppled backwards from the force of the blow, clutching my shoulder. The demon ripped it out, cutting my palms in the process. He slashed it across my chest once, then twice over my torso. My vision was blurred badly. I could barely whimper out hoarse noises of agony, only able to toss my head back and forth. I was barely conscious.

Even so, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, I couldn't help but to be forced to relive the pain, the torture that had come during my 'stay' with certain angels.

I heard a voice in the distance.It was the demon; finally tired of toying with me and, with a bored sigh, sunk the angel blade somewhere through my broken ribs. First came the shock. Then I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my chest when I drew in a surprised gasp. It became hard to breath without triggering the agony, so my breath came in short pants. Instinctively, I just wanted the thing in my chest that was causing me pain out. So, without giving it a second thought, that's what I did. I grasped at the handle of the blade, crying out as it slid out of my chest.

The demon immediately knocked the knife out of my hand, as if I was any threat to him in my current condition. I went limp, realizing my mistake of removing the blade when it now became even harder to breathe. My hand rested limply over the wound with the intent to apply pressure, that I didn't have the strength in me for. My eyes fluttered shut.

I flinched when I heard the sound of feathers fluttering; the sound an all too familiar one to me. I struggled to not bolt upright, hoping it was just a figment of my near-death brain, tormenting me before I died. Even so, I forced my eyes open. I fought to focus my eyes on the new winged figure, who was obviously an angel. There was only one angel, I knew, whose wings I could see. It was none other than Lucifer.

Lucifer, the fallen archangel. Lucifer, one of the oldest and most powerful of his brothers and sisters. Lucifer, who was supposed to be caged in the bunker, at the moment. The devil himself, who appeared to have escaped the banker's warding to keep him contained from causing the apocalypse.

My eyes widened in alarm. I forced myself onto my forearms, immediately regretting the action when pain shot through my right arm. Panting, I writhed on my side, struggling to put as much distance between myself and the archangel as I could. His eyes, red with fury, darted between the demon and my broken form on the floor. His wings were spread out in what could only be meant to intimidate. They were taut, and almost vibrated with rage. I heard him mutter something low and angry under his breath, before the demon was a stuttering mess. It apologized hastily, but that didn't stop the devil. He raised his hand, middle finger and thumb tips poised to snap. The demon backed up as if the distance would keep him safe. A snap echoed hauntingly throughout the abandoned room, and the demon exploded into a cloud of black dust. It only reminded me just how powerful the archangel, who now faced me, was. I shrank back, panting shallowly and cradling my broken forearm to my chest.

I heard him say something, but my brain couldn’t register it. All I knew was, before I could even blink twice, he was standing beside me, peering down at me. His eyes, now blue, roamed over my beaten form, taking in my condition. I shifted, struggling away from him until I coughed. My breath hitched in my throat painfully as I twisted around for the angel blade sheathed at my hip, only to remember it had been knocked out of my grip by the demon, and had clattered onto the floor uselessly. Blood bubbled up in my mouth, confirming what I already knew was true. I coughed again, and again, fighting to twist onto my stomach. No matter how much it hurt, I knew I would drown in my own blood if I didn’t; but I couldn’t. The deep wounds on my abdomen bled profusely, soaking the worn floorboards with my blood, so much that it began to pool around me. It made the floor slippery, and my hand slipped uselessly against the floor as I struggled to right myself. With every shallow breath came a little more blood. I continued to cough, instinctively, even though it hurt more than anything.

I didn’t have the strength to fight when I felt arms wrap around my body, pulling me into the devil’s lap as he now kneeled on the floor beside me. Still coughing up blood, I gratefully sucked in the air I could now get, thanks to not lying on my back anymore. I panted, unable to focus on anything but the air in my lungs; and the pain in my lungs that would have had me sobbing if I had the breath to.

When the coughing fit ended, I laid limp in Lucifer’s arms for a moment more, my energy spent. It took me several heartbeats before I began to kick my legs weakly, and then fought against his iron grip. I knew he was abnormally strong, much stronger than any human. If he didn’t want to let me go, I wouldn’t be going anywhere. And he didn’t. My eyes widened in panic, and I struggled more and more against his grip on me. He allowed me to flip onto my side, and I whipped my head up. His eyes had an uncharacteristic softness in them. That, paired with the foreign expression on his face, only served to further confuse and scare me. I had been tortured and nearly killed-only to be healed and brought back for more-by so called angels many times over. I knew how quickly angels could shift. If angels were that terrible, the fallen archangel holding me now could only be much, much worse.

I whimpered pathetically, writhing in his grip as I remembered how he had turned that demon-the one that had just about killed me-into nothing so easily. He was a creature of nightmares, far worse than a demon. He was, after all, the devil himself.

“Calm down, sheesh.” He said, though it wasn’t accompanied by an eye roll or the sarcastic tone it usually would have been. His voice was flat, deadpan at most, tinged with something bordering worry. Almost like..fear? What could the devil possibly have to fear?

I forced myself to still, my breath still coming in pained, shallow pants. He shifted me in his arms, and I found myself letting him. I didn't make any attempt to shuffle away from him, even when I had the chance to do so. Maybe I was too tired. I had lost a lot of blood, after all; I was dying. And I didn't know what the devil had in his plans for me. The thought sent a jolt of fear into my very being.

I did protest, though, when his arms slid under me and he stood, hoisting me up with him effortlessly. I found myself clutching to him with shaking hands, a strangled, painful noise leaving my throat at the

small movement. His wings curled around the both of us almost protectively, although I had the nagging feeling it was more for me than for him. I clung to him as the familiar, yet foreign feeling of angel teleportation washed over me. The few times I had experienced it, it had felt completely different; it had felt wrong. Uncomfortable, to say the least. My entire being had tingled almost painfully, like pins and needles. But this time, with Lucifer, it felt familiar in the most foreign way possible. A comfortable warmth spread through every fiber of my being. One that almost felt as if it were coming from inside me, as well as him; instead of the pins and needles that had tried to painfully penetrate my skin before. If it hadn't been for the terror of my past trauma, I might have even found it comforting.

When my eyes finally focused, I realized we were at the bunker. I felt a little better at the familiar surroundings. Simultaneously, remembering the Winchester's absence, my fear rose. But exhaustion and shock were beginning to catch up to me. As well as the knowledge that I would most certainly die if I didn't tend to my injuries.

"Let me go." I mumbled, pushing my hand against his chest.

"Do you really think you can stand in your condition?" He argued, but he shifted me in his arms anyway. Carefully, with more caution that I would have expected, he stood me on my feet. He didn't go far, nearly hovering over me as he let me go. As soon as he let go, my legs buckled, and he was holding my waist, lowering me to the floor.

"Get away from me." I hissed out painfully. My chest felt like I had been stabbed again as I inhaled sharply.

"Do you want to die or do you want to die?" He shook his head, glaring at me. "Stubborn humans." He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

He turned around, taking several paces away from me before spinning back around. "What will it be?"

"I- I need help." I admitted quetly, hanging my head in defeat.

"I guess you're not the most stupid one." He mused, as if this were a game. "But, haven't you ever been told not to make deals with the devil?"

I grit my teeth. "'S not really like I have a choice right now."

"Right-o there." He grinned. He kneeled beside me once again. His hand outstretched, two fingers poised to touch the most fatal wound I had; the puncture to my lung.

I shrank away, willing myself to allow it to just happen. As his fingertips began to glow, I panicked.

"No, no. No grace-" I mumbled out, flinching into the wall.

He noticed my fear and, unlike I had expected, he withdrew his hand immediately. His expression was torn for a split second, but ultimately he allowed the confusion to show clear on his face. "What? Why not?"

"I can't..explain. Just.." My voice shook. "Please." I said quietly, my lungs hurting more with every word.

He surprised me yet again with the suddenly softer tone in his voice. "I'm going to have to, for this one at least." He explained gently. I debated, struggling internally. He waited patiently, never showing a hint of impatience or irritation.

"Okay." I answered softly. I felt how each breath hurt more and more; it became harder and harder to suck in air as my lung collapsed. He nodded grimly, so close now that he took up the entirety of my unfocused sight. In my peripherals, his wings curled around me protectively, though I tried not to focus on them. I had a hard time believing that the devil was suddenly protective of me, but I didn't want to think of how his wings could be boxing me in as well.

He glanced at me for confirmation, surprising me, and I nodded. Still, I couldn't help but to shrink against the wall as his glowing fingers met the fatal wound on my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my jaw and preparing for the pain that usually came with an angel's healing.

But just like before, Lucifer's grace was warm, and entirely unpainful. Compared to my previous experiences with being healed by angels, where I had felt the bones in my body shifting painfully back into place, and the stinging of open wounds being forced back together; this was a part of me. It was something bigger than both of us, I could sense that much, but there was something in me that rose up to meet his grace when he used it on me.

I found myself relaxing at the comforting warmth, the safety, I felt. My muscles relaxed, and I slumped against the wall. A small sigh left my lips when I realized I was able to breathe without nearly as much pain anymore. Still though, I hesitated to open my eyes.

"It's done." Lucifer's voice told me, uncharacteristically kind. I knew once I was in my right mind again, I would be getting serious whiplash from this.

"Thank you." I said gratefully, finally opening my eyes. I had to stop myself from jerking back at his unexpected closeness. His vessel's blue eyes were level with mine, something unreadable flitting around in them.

"Let me heal the rest." His voice wasn't pleading-he was the devil, and he never would stoop that low-but it was close.

"No, I'm-" I hissed between gritted teeth as I pushed myself to my feet. He stood quickly, mirroring my actions. "I'm fine."

I took a hesitant step forward, still weak, and stumbled right into him. "Woah there." He said, catching me by the shoulders, his wings once again curling around me; seemingly out of instinct, by now. I flinched purely out of instinct, although I didn't know what I had been expecting to happen. He had already proved he wouldn't harm me.

"I'm fine." I repeated stubbornly, suddenly aware he had healed my arm, too. I looked down at my arm, then to him, narrowing my eyes. "Thank you." I said half begrudgingly.

He shrugged. "Figured you couldn't bandage yourself up with just one working arm."

"Guess so." I grunted, shuffling against the wall. I stopped in the hallway, just outside the door to the infirmary. I closed my eyes, leaning against the doorframe and letting out a nauseated breath.

"You good?" His voice made me jump. I hadn't expected him to follow me here; I thought he would have lost interest now that the threat of death was no longer looming over me. The excitement was gone. Even more puzzling, was the seemingly genuine question from the devil.

"I'm good." I answered, a bit more harshly than I had intended to. He didn't seem offended in the least.

With more effort than it should have taken, I finally pushed the door to the infirmary open, staggering in. I immediately went for the painkillers, before remembering the archangel that had followed me into the room, not leaving my side for a second. I hesitated, before groaning and turning to the bandages and disinfectants. I hoisted myself onto the bed, letting everything onto the bed beside me.

Tugging my shirt off, I still hissed in pain at the various deep slashes that were littered across my stomach and ribs. I looked up for a moment to find Lucifer leaning against the doorframe, a frown on his face. As soon as he caught me though, he immediately opened his mouth to, most likely, make a sharp remark.

"Not in the mood." I ground out, my eyes flashing to his for a brief moment. Surprisingly, he shut his mouth.

Tears welled in my eyes at the burning sensation as I dabbed at the gouges in my skin with a water-dampened cloth. My hands shook. This wasn't even the worst of it yet.

Next came the alcohol. That was, until I couldn't help the whimper and the involuntary jerk of my hand that caused the bottle to go flying onto the floor. I grasped my stomach as if that would help to lessen the pain, gasping. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Lucifer flinch simultaneously.

"You need, uh, you need help with that?" He offered, his voice guarded as he tried not to sound too helpful.

"Yeah, probably." I sighed in defeat. I held myself still from flinching when he came closer. His fingertips brushed mine as he took the bandages and cloth. Gently, he dabbed at the gashes running across my stomach, while my hands balled up the white sheets into fists. I grit my teeth.

"I could just heal them." He insisted again, sighing in annoyance.

I shook my head. "Why are you so against my grace?"

"I just am."

"There's more to it than that." He huffed, but the feathers on his wings didn't ruffleI as they usually did when he was irritated. I knew it was an invitation to open up to him.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the alcohol he poured onto a wound, jerking back slightly. "I haven't had the best experiences with it. Or angels in general." I said hesitantly, quietly. He hummed, indicating he was listening. "They..they tortured me before. For information." I put it bluntly. I didn't see the point in dancing around the truth, not around the devil.

A frown had formed on his face. His jaw was rigid and his wings moved towards me slightly, taut with tension as well. "What kind of information?"

"About you." My voice was small, in an attempt to not anger him further. It wasn't my fault, but I didn't know that.

His eyes began to glow with the faintest hint of red, and every muscle in his body was tensed. "Lucifer?" I asked quietly. He took a step back.

"This whole time, they knew, and they dared to-" He muttered to himself. At the rage in his voice, I unconsciously leaned away from him, my arms coming up around my now-bandaged waist defensively. He immediately cut himself off when he saw the fear on my face and in my posture, taking a deep breath. His eyes slowly faded back to his vessel's blue. His wings were still taut, but he gave me a look to continue.

"They would leave me nearly dead, then heal me up again with their grace for another round." I told him what I knew he wanted to hear; what they had done to me. Why I was afraid of his angel's grace. I grit my teeth, furiously wiping away the tears in my eyes. It had happened only a few months ago, and the memories were still fresh enough to almost feel them as I explained it.

His face held a sort of understanding now that he knew. He nodded, though I could still feel the fury radiating off of him.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, in an attempt to break the ice and as a genuine question. "I'm not going to die anymore, there's no more excitement to be had." He pretended to look offended.

"Couldn't let my soulmate just die now, could I?" Soulmate. Even though it sounded foreign to me, it almost immediately seemed to make sense. It was the word, no, the explanation I had been looking for since the strangeness of his grace, compared to the other angels. That, and the closer bond that had seemed to draw the two of us together ever since he had first used his grace on me.

Even so, I had to consciously make an effort to close my mouth that had opened in shock. "We're-"

"Surprise! Your soulmate is the devil. Lucky you, right?" He grinned, though I could see something in his eyes that wasn't right.

"No, more like lucky you." I smiled weakly, still unsure. I had come across very brief, shallow information of angels and soulmates before in different texts, but I still knew so little about it. "You get a hunter as a soulmate."

He faked a grimace. "Yeah." He seemed more relaxed though, and I knew what I hadn't been able to place in his eyes before. He was afraid that I would be disappointed. That he had waited only god knows how long for a soulmate-maybe even believing he didn't have one, as part of his punishment-only for his soulmate to hate him, to hate being tied to the devil himself.

"So how does this..work…now?" I trailed off, gesturing between us.

"We're attached at the hip now!" He exclaimed.

"Seriously. Why didn't this come up before? How long have you known? Did-" I was silenced by a finger to my lips, and suddenly Lucifer was much closer than he ever had been, face inches from mine.

"Quiet with the questions, sheesh." He groaned, leaning away. "May I?" He motioned to the empty spot on the bed beside me. I nodded.

"First of all, my grace, well, activates the bond, you could say. That's why this hasn't happened before. I didn't know until then, either. Although, I've always had this nagging pull towards you, I suppose. Annoying." He huffed. I unconsciously leaned towards him, our shoulders brushing.

"Being my..mate," He almost hesitated at using that word, glancing at me, but I didn't grimace or react negatively towards his word choice. "Your soul is intertwined with mine. In other words, you have a small bit of my grace in you. And I, a small piece of your soul."

"That's why your grace doesn't hurt." I mumbled in realization, more to myself than to him. "Oh."

He looked down at me, eyes telling me to explain. "The angels, when they used their grace on me before. It was like it was penetrating into my skin. It hurt. But yours…didn't. Not at all."

He explained more, but I began to nod off against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to me. The sound of his voice was surprisingly comforting as I dozed, until he stopped, noticing my unconsciousness.

"Let's get you to your own bed." He stood, slowly, so I had time to wake up before I dropped from his shoulder. I jolted awake at the movement, apologizing profusely once I realized what I had done. The smug smile on his face told me enough.

I leaned against him heavily as we walked down the hallway to my own room. He shoved the door open, nearly supporting me by my waist. I immediately slumped onto the bed with a sigh and a wince. My eyes already began to shut again, until Lucifer pulled away. When I opened them, his wings were taut, poised to leave.

"Don't go."

His look was one of surprise. "What?"

"Stay here." I knew, with the events of today, that my nightmares would be haunting me the minute I slipped off into sleep. I didn't know how to explain it to myself, least of all to him, how I felt safer with him there. How the prospect of him leaving at the moment was almost scary to me. I didn't have to though, he read it all through our bond.

He nodded silently, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the edge of the bed. He waited for my confirmation before pulling me against him and lying us both down on the mattress. With a sigh, I felt myself immediately relaxing against him.

I felt safe as I drifted off, though somewhere in the back of my head, I knew this was the devil and he was dangerous. But I also knrw there was no threat here. Not as long as he was with me.

#spn lucifer #spn lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #spn #supernatural #lucifer spn x reader #lucifer spn #winchesters #soulmate au #kindred spirits au #supernatural soulmate au #dean winchester #sam winchester #x reader #supernatural x reader #supernstural hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #ceo of hurt/comfort #spn x reader #men of letters #men of letters bunker #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #supernatural fic

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics Master List

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

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

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

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

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

Tag List: @djs8891

Main MasterList

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

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Possessive Lucifer {2}

Chapter Summary; Lucifer makes do with his promise. One thing leads to another, and you’re stuck in an alcove with a jealous Lucifer and his new promise. He’s going to ruin you.

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: 2/2

Word; 6.000

Warnings; character death, smut (please no minors only 18+), dirty talk, possessive Lucifer, slight exhibitionist kink, unprotected sex (remember to be safe), rough sex, semi-public sex

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: Tihi, who asked for possessive and hot sex with the devil in a closet?

MAIN MASTERLIST

The night was long. Fancy champagne, fancy dresses and fancy people. The small talk, the fake smiles and laughs. It was dreadful, but if you thought finding an opportunity to get the monster of the night alone couldn't come sooner, Dean was getting desperate.

You don't know how often you'd found him pleadingly looking in your direction during the night, silently asking for you to save him from another conversation he didn't want to engage in from the beginning. Although you aided him when you could, it was impossible to do it all the time, concerning you needed to entertain your own occasional company.

Thankfully, the initial mingle session seemed to be over soon as people gradually moved towards the stage where the orchestra had been playing until now. Albeit following the group gathering there, you searched for Sam or Dean.

Spotting a tall brunette glancing around the room -off to the side but without a doubt having followed the crowd assembling by the stage- you headed towards the person you recognised all too well.

Not until the people not far from him started to part as you excused yourself did Sam finally see you. He caught your gaze and nodded in a silent greeting before you were close enough to join him.

"Finally, a familiar face", he said on an exhale once you joined his side. You noted how his shoulders dropped in relief, and concerning you barely had been able to have a word with him since you entered the venue, you believed him.

"Though happy to finally see you, I can't say the same here. I've acted as Dean's saving grace a few times", you replied, eyes scanning the crowd for the older Winchester.

"He probably needed it more. It looked like he would rather go back to purgatory than stay here a minute longer". You chuckled at his comment, somehow feeling it was partly true.

"So, how should we tackle this then?" You lowered your voice and took a step closer to the brunette to not attract the attention of the people around you, motioning with a nod to the man you were here for as he entered the stage.

"After the speech, the party will open up, much like before", Sam began as the man of the evening tapped the microphone, earning most of the audience's attention. Causing the taller man to bend down slightly and lower his voice even further. "Mr Chan will rejoin the party after a change of outfit, a more fitting one for the later evening".

You threw him a glance, the edge of your mouth ticking upwards. "Look at you, could almost think you're a shapeshifter from how you blend in with these folks". Sam, however, only shook his head at your comment, a low laugh escaping beneath his breath.

"Only doing my best to get as much information as possible because how much it ever looks like it, I more than a little anxious to get out of here".

"Good that I'm not the only one". You looked to your right, finding Dean having appeared out of nowhere.

"Nice of you to join us", Sam greeted his brother, earning a look from the older hunter.

"Have tried for the past five minutes to find you", he said without any humour in his voice. It was only then you noticed how Dean still had his shoulders rolled back, perfecting his posture even further by having his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "My next goal is to leave this place", he muttered.

"We'll... see if we can meet up with the man of honour after his speech". Sam chose his words carefully as he informed his brother, whose gaze was fixed straight ahead.

"Good enough, you'll go with Sam".

"No way, ain't letting you roam around on your own when you barely can hold a conversation", you argued.

"She has a point, Dean. We'll take those two corridors that wrap around, and they aren't deserted until further into the house". The younger Winchester gestured discreetly to the openings on the left respectively right side in your line of vision.

"Fine".

"Go with Sam. He can do the talking". You tilted your head towards the tall man to your left.

"You can't go on your own". You were met by Dean's furrowed brows as he turned to face you.

"I'll be fine. We'll meet up before we face our main man anyways". You looked to Sam, who nodded in agreement before looking forwards.

If he would've liked to argue, the older Winchester was cut off as Mr Chan finally greeted his guests.

***

A clicking sound echoes in the empty hall as you walk away from the crowd.

After everyone applauded, you and the boys gave a final nod to each other and split up as the crowd dispersed. It would’ve felt disrespectful to not listen to the speech, only counting down until it would end if you’d been any other person tonight. But the truth was, you really hadn’t cared about what the man said, so neither could you recall anything. But if you had to guess, it would be similar to everyone's thank-you speech. Grateful for you, they and us, excited to continue towards further greatness.

Your feet were aching as you neared the end of the corridor, or so they’d done from the night's second half and onwards. Blisters were forming where the stiff material of your heels rubbed against your skin, and you couldn’t wait until you could take them off.

"Whoa there!" You were startled at the voice, even more so by the hands suddenly gripping your upper arms. Then, snapping to look upwards, you found a pair of brown eyes looking down at you, surprise pinning a dark-haired man's eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Sorry", you mumbled, offering the man you accidentally ran into when cutting the corner an apology as you stepped out of his hold.

"No worries", he smiled, and you offered one back, about to step around him when he moved to the side, halting your action. "Can I offer the lady company back to the party?"

"I have to decline. I'm on the way to powder my nose, but thank you", you smile, hoping your quick fabricated lie passed as more than the commonly worst quick-escape excuse.

"Yes, of course", he dipped his head when a chuckle left him. "Makes sense since you're heading the opposite way". His dark eyes found yours again as he lifts his gaze.

"Yeah, but have a good evening, enjoy the party", you smile, about to move, but yet again, he blocks your path by following your step to the side.

"I would much rather enjoy something else".

"What?" Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden comment.

"You're a real beauty, you know". The brunette steps closer, eyes adverting from yours. As the brown-eyed man rakes his gaze over your body, you can practically feel the trail they leave behind. When they finally settled on yours again, it felt like his eyes had turned even darker. "And I would much rather enjoy something like you than those dummies in there". His smile is ominous as he jerks his head towards the room you just left, and your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Absolutely not". You take a step away, looking over your shoulder, but the main room isn't in sight. You’d somehow forgotten you just turned the corner.

Rather than thinking your averted attention was because you tried working out whether or not it was possible to make a hasty retreat from a situation steadily making you more uncomfortable, the man must've thought you looked for someone.

"Why? Are you here with someone tonight?" You whipped around to face the dark-haired man once more when his voice suddenly sounded closer.

"I-", you began but cut yourself off when he grabbed your upper arm. "Let go of me!"

"Not until I get an answer". The man's voice was calm, but at the same time, there was a dangerous edge to it.

"How about just fucking no", you gritted out, clenching your fist, ready to send it straight into his jaw. But you didn’t get the opportunity.

His hand had slipped downwards, circling your elbow to tug you close with surprising strength.

Shock forces you to concentrate on not losing your balance rather than breaking free. As you look up -coming too close for comfort to his face- you're greeted with a sneering smile. It sends a shrill down your spine, driving you to jerk back, attempting to distance yourself from the man, but he only digs his finger further into your arm.

"Come on now, pretty one, don't be so difficult-". The man's sentence is abruptly stopped as his mouth remains open, face falling.

Something disappears from his features, then his eyes. You stumble backwards when his hold slackens, hand shooting to rub away the sting in your elbow.

And it's then when your eyes follow his arm falling to his side, you find the bloody fist sticking out of his chest.

You choke on your breath, witnessing the owner pulling their hand back, causing the body to slump to the side. And as the dark-haired man falls to the floor, your eyes instantly flicker to the person behind him.

Whatever part of your hindbrain still in fight or flight had imagined a monster awaiting you, but any kind of adrenaline-induced fear evaporated when you were met by Lucifer.

The devil was looking at his red fist, almost in disgust, as he twisted his hand and flicked it to get the excess blood from it, a few droplets joining the slowly widening red circle on the floor.

"Lucifer!" You hissed, reality finally catching up with you when your eyes remained on the man sprawled on the ground. "You can't just-". Before you finish the sentence, you're cut off as your gaze is pulled up by a hand gripping your chin. The last thing you see before your eyes meet the devil is him stepping over the body and the pool of blood.

"Yes, I can", he spoke slowly, leaning in closer when he resumed. "I said I wasn't scared of killing for you".

Your heart warmed, almost an uncomfortable amount, at what the devil suggested and proved. With the feeling came a pang of guilt urging you to push down the reaction you'd had to his words. "But-"

"But what?" There's a bite in his voice, a dark flame igniting in his now red eyes. "What he would’ve done to you?” He snarls, voice raising. “I can tell you he would’ve forced himself on you, probably used you without you able to do anything". You feel a twitch in his fingers before he moves to hold the side of your neck, his thumb lodging in the hinge of your jaw as his other digits curl beneath your ear.

"If you insist on asking, then please, answer my questions: If I would've played by your human norms, what would he have done? If I had not cared about coming when I felt you... what would have happened then?" You made no further attempt at finishing your earlier sentence when he continued in a similar resentful manner.

The archangel staring down at you was correct, even if you hadn't -or been unable to during the moment- realised any of the points he made was true. You had felt unsafe, unconsciously knowing the situation hadn't looked all too favourable. Despite being a hunter, to fight off a six-foot-plus man without anything but your fists isn't easy. And if anything, Lucifer would've been the first to know how you felt about such a situation, and it was for the same reason he must've come.

"That's what I thought". At Lucifer's voice, you return to the present, eyes flickering between the angel's red ones.

"Still, you can't kill someone innocent". You don't know why you pleaded the man's case. You would've liked nothing more than to knock him unconscious. But dead? And for your sake? No matter how the man behaved, it didn't feel right.

However, Lucifer didn't budge on the matter. As a matter of fact, he froze, not uttering a word.

His thumb that had been nudging the hinge of your jaw pressed into that hollow between neck and throat. Without a doubt sensing your pulse jump just beneath your skin.

And then, Lucifer pressed his lips to yours. But it wasn’t gentle. Instead, it's heated, possessive, his tongue moving past your lips to swipe back and forth.

The force almost rocks you off your feet, and the devil notices as his hands slide down to your throat and he pushes you backwards.

You stumble, mind reeling when his body steps into yours, not as much for support as for simply forcing you backwards faster. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're dumbstruck, panting against his lips as you watch him with wide eyes.

"If I would've been able to read his thoughts, I know very well he wouldn't have been innocent", he growls as you can't do anything but follow his lead, legs still shaky and mind not grasping the situation yet. Nevertheless, you have enough brain capacity to glance at the dead man on the floor.

"The body Lucifer, we can't just-". A snap of his fingers was all it took for the body to turn into dust. Then Lucifer's hand slid up until his thumb pushed against the underside of your chin, angling your face upward and forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I am here". The authority in the devil's voice would’ve made your eyes stick to him no matter if you could’ve escaped his hold on you. That's why you barely noticed how his arm stretched around you, at least not until you heard a doorknob turn and your surroundings changed.

You entered something akin to a small scrub. At the edge of your vision, you notice how shelves line the walls, a cluttered mess of different cleaning supplies stacked on top.

Just as you wondered how deep it was, you caught something sounding close to a lock clicking in place, and for a second, it became dark. Then, a yellow light flickered to life above your head, showing you how Lucifer closed the space between the two of you.

He pressed close to you, welding you against something at your back, causing a hard surface to dig into your lower ass. Lucifer’s bloodied hand perches on a shelf above your head while he practically leans over you, caging you against whatever you'd backed into.

You feel small as he towers over you. The wings obscuring the rest of the room behind Lucifer don't help to ease the sensation. Something in your body squirms, and you nearly want to sink further away to escape his heavy red gaze.

"Lucifer". His name was a shaky whisper, spoken unsteadily because you still feel what you now have coined as boiling rage through the bond. Even so, he put his finger against your lips, pursing his so a silencing sound escapes them before he speaks.

"I'm gonna fucking rail you until that man is the last thing on your mind, little one", he speaks lowly as his finger slips down to play with your lower lip, his gaze falling to watch the action before he shocks you by leaning down for a kiss.

He slots his mouth over yours, tongue not waiting nor begging for entrance before it slides against yours, urging you to move against him as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. And you do, a warm sensation flushing through your body as his lips passionately slip over yours. Soothing his nerves as something else enters not only the air but your bond.

It's swift, like a switch flipping, the sensation changing enough for you to feel it immediately.

Although there's no need to dissect it, the devil makes clear what it is as he makes your breath catch when one of his palms settles on your thigh, parting the slit and exposing your skin even further as his hand slides upwards.

The green fabric cascading down your lower body collects at his wrist. But Lucifer doesn't stop with a cradle of your thigh. Instead, he continues upwards until his fingers reach your clothed pussy, where he wastes no time waiting to play with you through the thin material of your panties.

You keen into the kiss, shock and a tremble forcing the sound out of you, but it's simply swallowed and muffled by the devil's passionate lips moving against yours.

"Did he hurt you?" Lucifer husks when he breaks the kiss but doesn't stay far away as he noses down your neck, getting a mumbled 'no' before he continues. "Did he leave a mark on you?"

Eyes still closed, you tilt your head backwards, giving him more space to work with. "No". The man's grip may have been firm, but it wouldn't bruise.

"Good", he reaches a familiar spot on your chest, the same one he'd paid particular attention to before you left for the hunt. "Because only I can do that", Lucifer mumbles against you before pressing a kiss over the material where the already formed hickey was hidden.

"What about all the monsters then?" You gasp when Lucifer suddenly press his finger against your clit.

"Those you kill". You feel the devil's teasing kisses along your throat, senses still cranked to a thousand since earlier. That's why electricity shoots through you when Lucifer reaches your mouth and nibbles at your lower lip. "I take care of the humans". He grins against you before he leans away.

"That's reassuring to hear". You attempt for the breathed reply to sound anything but just that, but any form of verbal response is getting more challenging to conjure.

"Those ideals of yours are too bothersome. Someone must have some sense", the devil mused before cocking his head. "And you should know you're my favourite plaything anyways, so you don't need to worry".

The bastard smirks down at you. You can feel it but not see it clearly. You see his outline, how it's blue and not red staring down at you, but still hazy like you'd gotten something in your eye and no matter how much you blink, it doesn't clear. And somewhere along the way, your eyelids get stuck halfway as you attempt to hold what you assumed was Lucifer's gaze as he so effortlessly circles your clit.

You barely believe it wasn’t his grace when he’d been able to speak without the slightest hitch. But you notice his forearm shifting when your head falls forwards to rest against his chest, hands leaving the table top you'd clutched behind you to fist his clothes.

A high-pitched whimper stems from your vocal cords as he speeds up, and not long after, you sense Lucifer beside your head, his voice following suit.

"Better keep it low, little one, or else someone might hear", he husks in your ear, though you barely notice how the archangel isn't as unaffected as you thought when you burrow your head further into his chest, biting your lip as you squirm against him upon his warning. You don't even notice how your thighs clenched around his hand, attempting to further relieve the building ache in-between your legs. But, the devil does. "Or maybe that's what you want? You want to let everyone hear you, hear who makes you feel like this. Is that it, hm? You want to let them know you're mine?"

That's what sends you over the edge.

Your body convulses against Lucifer's, kept up solely by his body pinning you in place and the hand cupping your heat, prolonging your pleasure as good as possible with flicks to your clit.

In an attempt to silence yourself, you bite your tongue, the edge of your teeth digging into the soft flesh, yet it does little to quiet down your heavy panting. Hopefully a little muted by the fabric you're pressing your face against.

The sharp edge of blissfulness fades when Lucifer pulls his hand out from your dress and clutches your waist possessively. However, your eyes flutter when you feel his touch leave you, and your head hangs in the air rather than resting against his chest.

"No", tumbles from your lips as you reach for Lucifer's neck, pulling him into a kiss when he's about to back away. Even though the devil ungracefully clashes against you -teeth knocking against yours as he rattles the things upon the shelves above you when his hand slams into it once more as he hadn't anticipated your action- he quickly falls into the hungry way you press your lips against his. "I need you", you mumble between kisses.

"Thought you had an important hunt?"

Your hands fall to his belt buckle, undoing it and the button of his jeans. "Make it quick then". The devil groans against your lips, likely not expecting you to insist on one risking one of the Winchesters coming to look for you and finding you like this, but he didn't waste a second.

His hand replaces yours after you pull down his zipper, dragging his pants and boxers down far enough to pull himself free.

The confinements of his pants must've been uncomfortable, concerning he's already hard, tip an angry red colour as he swipes his thumb over it, spreading the spend beading there. When he grips his length and fists himself, a fuck is mumbled beneath your breath, a chuckle escaping Lucifer as he watches how intensely you follow his movements.

Not before long, you reach for him, your fingers replacing his, and a repressed groan leaves Lucifer upon your touch. But he wasn't still for long before grabbing the material of your dress, rucking it upwards and to the side until it pools around your right hip. He steps closer, placing himself between your legs to keep the material to the side.

"So ready for me". Lucifer seeks out your pussy again, your juices soaking through your panties, coating the upper part of your thigh and now getting smeared against his knuckles.

"Yes", you stutter out, hand stilling around his length as it gets difficult concentrating on more than him petting you through the lace covering your still sensitive heat.

"You almost sound needy".

"And you're close to getting smacked if you wait any longer, either by me, Sam or Dean", you groan back.

"So violent", Lucifer reply with a tug of his lips. Nonetheless, he tugs your panties to the side and shifts closer.

The head of his cock bumps against you, and you feel him twitch in your palm while a shudder journeys through your body. You direct him towards your weeping entrance, the head of his cock notching against your entry.

A gasp leaves you as he slides into you with repeated rolls of his hips until he's seethed deep within you. Your head tips back, and your fingers knot in his jacket. He stays still, letting you adjust briefly before he begins pumping in and out.

Your breath stutters, and a fog rapidly wraps around your brain, like something addictive drugging you, causing all the tension in your body to melt away. The fingers intertwined in Lucifer's clothes skates upwards, and so does the hand you'd rested against his side, up and up until they circle beneath his arms and grabs his shoulders for support.

He presses closer to you, his clothes rubbing against yours. The duller coloured fabrics encasing him crinkle the vibrant ones wrapped around you. Even so, Lucifer's naked hips are pressed close to yours, kissing your thighs and mound each time he buries himself as deep as possible.

The earlier relief in your body moves through your muscles like vines, sucking out strength only to hoard it in your core. A vibrating, almost tickling sensation builds in your gut, blossoming into something sweet yet dry on your tongue.

Your head drops, and you burrow it against his neck, littering it in kisses and bites to silence yourself. However, it has the opposite effect when you reach the sensitive spot beneath the archangel's ear, and he reacts by rutting harshly into you.

"Fuck, Lucifer, please". The words slip from your mouth and curl along the shell of his ear. His motion falters, but he grinds his pelvic bone against your clit.

"Already begging?" The words were heaved from deep within his lungs, a growl initiating his following sentence. "Forgot that this is your dirty dream".

"Rather, yours!" You press your face further into his skin as a particularly rough thrust makes you moan the last word loud enough that if anyone walked past the scrub, they definitely would've heard.

"Don't think they heard you yet. Give the people another, would you?" He groans lowly, his fingers wrapping around your neck to bring you from your hiding and force you to stare into his eyes instead.

"Fuck off", you spit. But the venom in your voice melts away in an instant as Lucifer punishes you by pulling out almost entirely before slamming into you. Causing your eyes to slip close and your jaw to slacken. Still, you managed to silence yourself by letting out a choked sound rather than a loud moan.

"Don't get cocky now, not when you're the only one caring if I undo the lock behind us". The devil said against your lips, watching how they parted further, yet he didn't lean in to grant you the kiss he knew you wanted, enjoying your struggle to be silent. And when he didn't, Lucifer noticed the creases between your brows deepening, your tongue pushing into your inner cheek as if to divide your attention from your pleasure. The one he didn't even need to feel through your bond to know it thrummed through your body.

You felt the devil smirk by the little twitch of his lips, and you wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. Although, rather than succeeding with quelling his satisfaction, you probably only granted him a further one when your hand snapped to your mouth, teeth digging into the meet at the base of your thumb to silence yourself when Lucifer picks up the pace.

His hands move to clutch your waist, and your dress slips down a little, rubbing in between your and Lucifer's naked skin. The tabletop behind you moves, thudding slightly against the wall with his new pace.

You keen when the archangel presses close to you, grinding his hips rather than pulling in and out after almost slipping out from how soppingly wet you'd become. He's so deep, hitting something inside you that causes your toes to curl uncomfortably in your heels and your thighs press against his hips.

"I can feel that you're close". Lucifer's words are breathed into your ear as his head drops, locks of his hair curling against his forehead. "Let them fucking hear you". His hand grips your wrist and rips it away from your mouth, naturally letting it fall together with his until it hits the edge of the countertop. Your fingers curl along the metal edge. The devil's into your skin.

Despite your attempt at softening your moans, the feeling of climbing a mountain peak with quivering legs and bathed breath beyond the top has you unable to control the sounds you let out. Your pants turn into whines until they reach the deepest part of your lungs and emptiest them by moulding air into a groan.

You topple over the edge when Lucifer makes the tiniest readjustment of his hips, one you don't even know how to describe, but he hits that spot that makes you instinctually cling to him as your head snaps backwards.

Your legs shake, and a high-pitched, wavering whine is squeezed from between your lips.

It's like something sourly-sweet curls in the lower part of your stomach, your muscles spasming as your body does nothing but soak in it. And it doesn't take long before the devil joins you from how you squeeze him, stilling and twitching in the way that makes you consciously clench around him one last time before you lean more of your weight against the table behind you.

Your head lolls forward, and you find Lucifer's neck. You breathe in his musky scent, feeling a softness entering your bones, accompanied by his body's comforting chill.

His breaths fan your hair away from your neck. Each exhale is a hot sweep against your sticky skin. You feel him shuffling, and a noise leaves you when he slides out of you to tuck himself into his boxers. Yet, when Lucifer's palm settles against your cheek and makes you look at him when he stands tall again, you forget the empty feeling when a shudder rushes down your neck and through your body.

His eyes are half-lidded, those blues gazing at you almost lazily. Then, with a slight tilt and pull, he brings you in for a kiss. Yet, despite his appearance and the gentle and warm glow streaming through your bond, his kiss is fevered.

The devil slants his lips against yours, tongue running along the seam of your lower lip before he licks into your mouth, swallowing the sound you make. Your hand presses into his hair, fingers curling into his damp blonde locks to tug him closer. Lucifer grunts, deepening the kiss until he reaches a frenetic pace.

You both are getting carried away, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember you don't have all the time in the world. Breaking the heated kiss, you pant against the archangel's lips as you rest your forehead against his. And it seems the pause not only calms you but Lucifer's as well.

"You better get going". You laugh breathlessly at this.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll just meet up with Sam and Dean looking like this". You lean away to motion at yourself with a flick of your hand, not needing a mirror to know you looked fucked out. His eyes flicker over you at the invitation to do so.

"Just say you stumbled into one of their companions. You have the story, and now-". He lowers the hand he'd held the shelves with and drags it over your shoulder and upper chest. At the edge of your vision, you spot the red stains the partly dried blood leaves behind. "-you look the part even more". As he gives a final swipe over the swell of your breast, your eyes snap downwards.

"I would've slapped you if you destroyed this dress", you huffed in relief as you examined the smeared red lines on your upper body resembling splatter you'd attempted to wipe off but only made it worse. "And don't tell me that the man wasn't a human all along".

Your gaze rose, seeking out Lucifer's. "No, very much human, very much a dick, just trying to come up with excuses for you". The corner of his lip tugged upwards, and no remorse could be found in his eyes concerning his earlier actions.

"You're unbelievable", you chuckled in disbelief as you closed your eyes.

"Hm, no, you and your heroic moral is for liking my little display". The devil runs his clean fingers up your side with the occasional press, mimicking little steps.

Your flex your jaw, eyes opening to stare into his.

Mirth, the same kind always noticeable when he knows he's right, plays in those wisps of blue. You tilt your head upwards, attempting not to give him a reason to be any smugger.

"Need an answer, little one", he smirks, leaning just out of reach for you to be able to kiss him. Concerning he's still pinning you to the desk behind you, there isn't much more you can do than scoff and twist your head away from him, staring at the wall in the opposite direction.

"Don't become prude now", he chuckles. "You're past the point of it being believable when you fucked the devil in a closet, in this pretty dress and with a party going on just down the hall". You swallow. Turning your head just the slightest bit so you can look at him. He cocks a brow, awaiting your confession.

"Fine", you say, but Lucifer only tuts.

"Not good enough. Tell me you liked how I killed that man for you and then showed you who you belong to". Your mouth drops open, but you quickly shut it as you bite your tongue.

Sam and Dean were probably waiting for you, and if you didn't join them any moment now, they wouldn't be able to wait to go after the kitsune, but neither would they want to leave without you. And knowing them, they would probably split up, not taking the chance it could just be a guest holding you up for this long. Sighing, you pinned a grinning Lucifer with your gaze, a finger coming to rest on his chest to accentuate your reformulated agreement.

"I did like how you saved me in... your own devilish fashion, and I can't say I'm complaining about the following event". The archangel's wings fluttered.

"Will do for now", Lucifer hummed, raising his bloody hand to pull you into a kiss. It's a shorter one, your lips moving slowly against one another for a few seconds before he leans away and lets you slide down to stand on the sole of your feet once more.

Concerning the feeling of your mixed spends trickling out of you -your panties not much of a cover- you're thankful you chose a long dress. However, it feels like the sex you just had is sticking to your skin in more than one way, and you can’t wait until you return to the motel to freshen up. Not only to feel like Lucifer didn't cling to your body for the duration of the trip home, but the blood he’d covered you in.

The thought, along with the red you notice in your peripheral at that moment, reminds you he'd smeared a new streak of blood across your skin. Raising one hand, you smudge the crimson on your cheek and upper neck, frowning at your stained fingers as you resist the urge to wipe them on your dress.

Feeling someone staring, your eyes find Lucifer's, noticing how he'd cocked his head.

"What? I would rather not have a bloody handprint with a compromising placement. It wouldn't help me with the whole run into their companion instead of having hot sex with the devil in the closet".

His mouth ticked upwards at that and something about him standing so casually with his jeans still zipped down and belt buckle hanging open was almost too domestic to not be home in the bunker but in a scrub.

Lucifer observes you while your eyes roam over him, a small smile forming on your lips.

Once your gaze meets the archangel’s, you know he noticed. Without thinking, you move towards the door, ready to leave the way too small scrub. However, you didn't consider your legs would be even unsteadier in heels than previously. So you stumble forwards.

The sole reason you don't trip is thanks to Lucifer’s quick reflexes as his arms shoot out to steady you.

"Should watch your step". The devil helps you to stand straight, and you shoot the amused devil a glare.

"Shut up", you mumbled under your breath, slightly embarrassed he saved you from looking like a complete fool right after he caught you checking him out. "And these things can go fuck themselves", you curse your heels, begrudgingly holding onto the archangel's arm still wrapped around your front for further balance as you step out of your heels one by one.

Immediate comfort makes you flex your feet when you feel the wooden floor beneath you. Then, when cracking sound comes from your toes, causing you to close your eyes for a second and sigh in relief. Then, a slight tightening at your waist makes you open them again and nearly reluctantly raise your gaze until it meets Lucifer's.

"Don't let the monkeys wait any longer". The devil steers you towards the door with a slight push after moving his wings out of the way, surprising you as you hadn't thought that was what he was going to say.

"No goodbye kiss?" It’s instinctive, but you put a fake-pout on the end of your question to not let the devil catch on to how you don’t want to part from him without a last goodbye this time. 

His cocked brow doesn’t tell you whether he did or not, but it does reveal he considers your question. And, when he leans forwards, grips your chin and presses his lips against yours, it shows he’s much easier persuaded than you'd been earlier tonight.

"Now go before I keep you here for the rest of the night". There it was, you thought, chuckling as you unlocked and slipped out of the door with your heels in one hand and sensing the devil watch you disappear down the hallway.

Taglist: PS, I tagged the same people as in the original series. If any of you don't want to get tagged in the updates for this series (drabbles, one-shots etc.), just give me a heads up!

@the-fiery-ghost @ambivertedcroissant @xthefuckerysquaredx@americancowgirl19 @wayward-winsister @itsmeempar @alizayalove @aliceblxck @canyouimaginethatstory@musiclovinchic93 @eyghim18 @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog@emiliasaffron @batavrahamvsara @fanfic-love-show​ @imagine-inc @randomheart551​ @brooklynchrr420 @shippinglover @bun-dpdbny @tardis-world@blonde-in-charge @jokersqueenofchaos @baybeekenzie1@fandomgeekforever @perilous-blue @mistress-sassafrass @book-of-anarchy @nerdettezebracorn333 @herlovetragedy @coolbean121@bagsy-not-it @abbyss @taikawho @sagyunaro @dementedsnowfox​ @kcam1621​  @acaotch​ @crispycooter @browneyedgirl22 @misstress-sassafrass @bun-dpdbny​ @imagine-inc @enby-thesbian​ @stradlingmrstradlin​ @violetlilites​ @luciferslittledevil666​ @butterflykiisies​ @antisocial-thing​ @destinationdesignation​ @big-bad-batsy​ @yournightmare-1987​ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday​ @brujaporfavor​ @galaxypox​ @whitetigerlover17 @loki-is-loved​​ @leeannlips-blog @here4thespice​

#lucifer supernatural #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader soulmate!au #lucifer x soulmate!reader #lucifer soulmate!au #lucifer x reader soulmate #soulmate!au #lucifer spn #lucifer drabble #lucifer oneshot #Sam Winchester #dean winchester

[doctor-mccoys-sanity]

what did you do growing up if it wasn’t reading Soulmate AUs where people had the first words the other person said to them marked on their body but one of them was mute so the other thought they didn’t have a soulmate?

#i’m looking at you destiel and johnlock #castiel being mute #sherlock being mute #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #sherlock fandom #johnlock #john watson #destiel #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #mute castiel #castiel #mute sherlock #soulmate fanfiction #soulmate aus #soulmates #mute john watson #mute dean winchester

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Fix You

Sam Winchester x Fem Singer Reader

Soulmate AU very loosely based on the Coldplay song ‘Fix You’.

‘Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones and I will try to fix you’

Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings - slight angst, soulless sam briefly, johns terrible parenting, mentions of death, fluff, my terrible writing/ editing.

Mainly fluff but some angst

Words- 2.2K

The term soulmate is used to describe an all consuming love, a love so deep it was created by God? Fate? When two souls are destined to be together, two halves of a whole. Who knows where they originated from, some say it’s when the universe was created with a big bang, every atom was split into two and spread miles apart, you are one of those broken atoms, trying to find your other half.

The idea has been romanticised by happy couples across the globe, who have been lucky enough to find their soulmates. But it’s not sunshine and daisies for everyone, some never find their soulmates, others don’t have a soulmate at all, and some very unlucky people lose their soulmates death pulling them apart.

At 18 years old you received your mark, a burning sensation carved into the skin above your heart, searing pain as his name branded into your skin. The day started like any other, you woke up early your Dad knocking on your door “wake up kiddo we’ve got a job” you dad calls through the door. “Yeah ok dad, give me five minutes and I’ll be down” you reply voice still laced with sleep. You made your way quickly to the bathroom to get ready, before grabbing your to go bag and heading through the front door. “What’s the monster of the week then dad?” You ask hopping into the passenger seat of your dads run down mustang. “Vamps we think, the Winchester's are meeting us there” he replied. You’ve known the winchesters since you were a small kid, practically growing up with the boys. They would stay over yours for weeks at a time while John was working a case, so naturally you were all close friends, you were especially close with Sam though who was only a year older than you. Together you shared a love of books, animals, watching the stars and annoying Dean.

The vamp case went well, the nest was extinguished and you were all back at your motel rooms. John and your dad were outside your rooms, sitting on the steps to the motel sharing a drink, while you and the boys were settling down for the night. While brushing your teeth in the bathroom it started, the burning across your chest. The pain was pretty unbearable and you toppled over into the shower space, sitting now on the damp floor of the shower you held your chest gasping.

After what felt like hours the pain sizzled down to a soreness, which felt very much like a sunburn. Giving yourself a second to gain composure you stood up and walked to the bathroom mirror, with a deep breath you pulled your oversized band tshirt over your shoulder and peered at your chest. And there in neat cursive writing was the name ‘Samuel Winchester’ “holy shit!!!” You gasped completely in shock. You braced yourself before running out the bathroom and out of your motel room, startling John and your dad as you banged on the room two doors up from you, Dean answered the door wearing an equally as shocked expression as you were, he stepped to the side allowing you access and there on the motel room floor was a very distressed Sam holding his chest still, “it’s you!” He exclaims, “your my person?” He questions, a quiet “Yeah” is all you can muster up at that moment, panicking that he’s annoyed or worse disappointed.

When Sam stands up and starts walking over to you, you really start to panic, but to your surprise he throws his arms around you, and pulls you in snug to his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. ‘I always knew it was you, well I hoped anyway” he confesses a blush across his cheeks, “me too” you reply, smile gracing your lips and unshed tears in your eyes. “I’m so glad it’s you” you continue , before standing on your tiptoes and placing a small peck to his lips. All the while Deans still stood in the doorway with a vacant shocked expression on his face, before coming out with “damn it! Now we all have to put up with this chick flick mushy crap from you both”. Sam huffs out a laugh before turning to his brother and answering with a “yep, get used to it man’. After that your dads come in to see what’s going on, your dad congratulates you both, all while giving Sam the don’t you ever hurt her speech, John on the other hand looks anything but pleased, muttering something along the lines of ‘no good will come from this’.

That was nearly a decade ago now, and you have been through hell together since then, quite literally. You followed him to Stanford, starting a degree in literature and eventually sharing a dorm with him. Unlike his dad, your dad Bobby was supportive, happy you we’re both getting out and living life. You left Stanford and said degree with him to help find his dad, started travelling with him and Dean, and hunting again much to your dads despair. You held his hand through the whole psychic thing, with the yellow eyed demon, told him he wasn’t a freak and it wasn’t his fault. When he died your soul shattered with him, you held him sobbing into his hair while Dean took the deal to bring him back. You had to hold him again when Dean was taken to hell for making that deal. You both tried everything, read every book, asked every Demon, monster and hunter if there was any way to bring him back.

Lucifer was one of the biggest obstacles you faced together, with Dean safely back things were better for a while, only to be pulled into the lucifer and Michael war. Seeing him fall into that pit after your touch snapped Sam back into control of his body, was one of the worst pains you’d ever felt. Watching Dean and Cas fall into their lives and some normalcy was incredibly hard. “Will you be alright sweetheart?” Dean had asked, “Yeah I guess, I’ll probably head back to dad’s” you had replied, a complete lie obviously you were far from alight. You felt left behind, broken and alone, you couldn’t just move on when half of you was missing. But his name never left your chest, usually when a soulmate dies the other loses their mark. But not you, you’d later come to realise this was because not all of Sam was in lucifer’s cage.

Soulless Sam was one hell of a challenge at first you were just so glad to have him back, that you didn’t question how wrong he felt, you did every test on him and he smiled and allowed you to do so. But that pull to him, the warmth and unconditional feelings were gone. You’d felt awful, riddled with guilt. This was Sam your Sam, and he was home with you, safe and breathing! So why couldn’t you shake that feeling something was off? Especially when he kept telling you to not tell Dean he was alive and well.

Working with the Cambels was exhausting and you didn’t like his grandfather Samual at all! He was hiding things you knew that much, and he treated his so called family terribly. You eventually found some comfort when Dean was back with you guys, he was soo mad to start with why hadn’t no one told him. Then he also began to realise Sam wasn’t Sam, the first time he talked to you about it you had fallen apart, just sat there and sobbed on Dean. It had felt like such a relief to talk to someone about it, your dad had said it may just be Sam now, that Hell may have changed him. But you’d told Dean that you couldn’t feel that connection anymore, your couldn’t feel him! And that was enough for Dean. He had called your dad to explain further to him “Even y/n can tell somethings off Bobby! I’m tellin’ you when his soulmate says she can’t feel him in there, I’m inclined to believe her! My skins crawling just being with him Bobby please just ask around, find something!” Dean had yelled through the phone.

Cas had eventually come when Dean had called, and discovered what we had all thought, Sam’s soul was missing. Cas had said putting it back into him would be “ill advised” but neither of you could leave him like this, and the way he had been treating you saying he didn’t care, it was crushing your heart. “Death said he will go to hell and collect his soul, he’ll put up a sorta wall in his head sweetheart to block out Hell, it’s going to be ok. I promise I’ll get sammy back” Dean had explained to you before ‘playing death’ for 24 hours, a wager Death had set in order to place Sam’s soul back.

You felt it before you saw it, Sam’s soul was in that bag death was carrying, it called to you desperate to feel yours. That moment was all too much, the desperation to be near his soul again, the screams from Sam begging not to have it put back in, “don’t do it Dean please! It will kill me! You heard Cas!” Sam yelled, “I’m sorry Sammy we have too” Dean replied, emotion clutching at his voice. “Now Sam, I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind... You might feel a little itchy. Do me a favour... don't scratch the wall. Because, trust me, you're not going to like what happens.” Death had explained, “Now y/n I’m going to need you to hold his hand, feel the energy connecting between your souls, you need to hold onto it. And when I push his soul in, use that energy to surround it, your connection will help to hold that barrier in place and heal his soul, it won’t fix it completely, but it will get Sam on his feet” Death further explained to you. You’d blindly followed his instructions, moving towards Sam on shakey legs. You sat on his cot with him trying to ignore his violent thrashing and took hold of his hand. As soon as death opened the bag your energy’s pulled together like magnets. It was in that moment you saw and felt the pure power of soulmates, blinding white light filled the room, Sam’s soul was forced back in place and you pushed your energy in too, healing, binding, connecting. And you knew it would be ok, you would be there to help him, to help fix what’s broken.

For a little while things were good again, Sam woke up not remembering the year of being soulless. Dean had refused to tell him but as always the truth outed, and Sam was left feeling guilt ridden, sad and for weeks now he could barely look at you.

You walked into your kitchen where Sam was sat staring aimlessly into his beer bottle, worry lines creasing in his forehead.

“Sam” you signed, walking over to stand beside him. Rubbing your hands over his shoulders you continued, “Hey look at me” you gently caressed his chin before bringing his face up to meet yours. “ you have to stop blaming yourself, you weren’t you and Dean and I forgave you the second you were you again, I don’t blame you for this ok!” You said sternly. “You can’t keep pushing me out ok? That’s what’s killing me here, not what you did last year” he looked up at you eyes laced with tears, “But everything I’ve done to you, Dean and your dad! I tried to kill him y/n I can’t just get past that!” He cries. “He has Sam, he’s passed it. No one blames you ok, it’s done and we can’t change it, but we can all move forward, don’t push away everyone who loves you, you need us and we need you! I need you…..” you reply desperation in your voice, tears slowly trailing down your cheeks. That seems to do it, he pulls you into his lap, his face in your neck and arms securely around your waist, hugging you close to him, and he lets it all out, you both do.

Dean silently stands against the doorframe small smile on his lips, while he watches you and his little brother cry it out, holding each other close. “Hopefully things can only go up from here” he thinks.

“I’ll be there for you Sam, that’s what a soulmate does, your stuck with me whether you like it or not Winchester” you smirk. Sam looks at you, brows pulled together small smile on his lips, before he pulls you in for the softest kiss, conveying all the love he feels for you. Once you part he whispers “I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love you”

“I love you too Sammy, always”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #bobby singer #dean winchester #soulmates #soulmate au #supernatural

[delightfulwastelandjellyfish]

Soulmate AU part 2

Sam tries his best to forget about his mark with Castiel around. This only works for a little while and when he watches Lucifer use his body to blow up Castiel, it's the turning point he needs to take control. The whole time he's in the cage he believes Castiel is dead. And Lucifer uses this to torture Sam with, often taking Castiel's form while torturing him and making Sam watch Castiel die over and over.

Although Castiel has no memory of Sam being his soulmate, he still feels drawn to him. And over time he can't help but fall in love with him. Castiel keeps his feelings to himself because of everything going on and believing that Sam's soulmate was Jess. After Castiel comes back to life after being killed by Lucifer, he can't stand the thought of Sam in the cage. So he goes and gets him, not realizing he left his soul behind. He knew something was wrong but was too busy with the Angel war going on to do anything.

Then they get Sam's soul back and everything with the Leviathan happens. Castiel will never forgive himself for breaking Sam's wall, and transferring his pain to himself seemed like the only option.

When they finally defeat the Leviathan and Castiel and Dean go to purgatory, Castiel has no intention of coming back. But Dean is having none of it and forces Castiel through the door with him and Benny.

As Dean is freeing Benny back into his body, Castiel feels a burning on his wrist, and finds "Samuel Winchester" in bold letters. And the memory Michael stole comes back. Castiel now knows he's Sam's soulmate.

#supernatural #sam winchester #spn #castiel #dean winchester #sastiel #sam x castiel #samcas #soulmates #au

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 2

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1061

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: revamped fic of my own. It's been almost an year since I posted the first part, I'm extremely sorry for the long pause hehe // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 1

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

GIF by saucynewf

A shiver runs down your spine as you stand behind the Roadhouse, and you can't tell if it's because of the cold biting air or the green eyes that are trying to cloud your mind. 

There aren't many things that can scare you now, but now that you have found your soulmate, even thinking about him gives you shivers - and not the good kind.

"Thank you," You whisper to Jo as she sneaks a few bottles of the strongest rum through the backdoor. Your only objective now is to avoid Ellen and whoever that guy was. 

You don't want to know his name... It will make this all too real. 

"You owe me a big one." Jo says and you nod, wanting to cut your time here as short as possible.

Her questioning glances every few seconds are enough for you to know that she's just waiting for an opening to ask why you are suddenly stocking up on your favorite bottles of alcohol, and you're not ready to tell her why.

Realizing you forgot to bring your car to the back, you sigh, bidding farewell to Jo with a hug. 

You almost start running once she closes the door towards your car that you parked in the front, stashing your bag in the car, as you start the ignition. 

You're ready to step on the accelerator and be away from your soulmate, the person who's going to be your doom. You can't help but peek at the bar as you pass by and you're sure you see the dirty blond hair that is going to haunt your dreams from now on. 

The bottles Jo smuggled are just so that you can lay off from visiting the Road House as much as you can. 

It's no secret that whoever drops by the bar is sure to become a regular thanks to Ellen's hospitality, connections and knowledge of the supernatural, that is, unless anyone gives her a reason to clear off. 

The fear makes you drive as far as possible from the only people who you now call your family in search of hunts, but that doesn't mean you can run from what you have named as 'the Soulmates Curse'. 

You end up at a diner in a small town with a supposed haunted cabin in the nearby woods, taking a breath of relief as you see an empty seat by the window.

You put down all the resources you have on the table for the current case you're working on, using it as a distraction. 

But as you’re settling, a high pitched giggle catches your attention. There’s a family in the park near the diner which you can see clearly from your seat.

You get a weird feeling in your heart, a sense of longing for what you once had. The parents laze around on a picnic blanket, happily watching the children who are running around and playing with each other.

You wonder if you’ll ever get to live and love like that again.

“Hey,” a deep voice pulls you out of your chain of thoughts, and you look up to see a man with dark, gelled-back hair, a stubble gracing his genial smile, "You okay?" 

Not gonna lie, you feel like a high school girl starting to fall for the cute guy in class, your insides warm as your body feels flush.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You say to yourself, although you know that it isn't true, it's the only way to convince your mind that you're doing the right thing by saving yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.  

“I’m Chris, your server for the evening. What can I get you?”

Chris’ deep brown eyes make you want to forget everything, and for some reason, it makes you feel like you’re cheating on your non-existent relationship.

 “Just a cheeseburger and fries, Chris. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.” He winks at you with another one of his charming smiles, and you almost melt.

Your mind is in overdrive now.

The happy family directly in your sights are confusing your one-track mind, making you want that kind of contentment in your life as well.

As Chris brings your order to your table, you can’t help but ask, “The town is quite charming, huh?”

He laughs, “Yep, just a small, peaceful town. Except for Old Neil’s Cabin, it’s a nice place to live. And if you don’t believe in ghost stories, we don’t have many problems here.”

And with that, your yearning mind starts planning out an ordinary life in this town, hoping that your soulmate will have a peaceful death and since you won’t be attached to him, you won't feel much when the inevitable happens.

If you get rid of the ghost, then you can see yourself getting old here, preferably with a handsome man like Chris, and have a little family.

Back at the Harvelle’s Roadhouse, Dean Winchester takes a sip of his beer and sighs, tapping on the wooden bar, deep in thought.

Sam is talking about something or the other with Jo, not paying mind to Dean, who honestly doesn’t care. He is too occupied with the girl from last night who has been making his heart skip a beat every few minutes as little things around him keep reminding him of you.

Dean smiles to himself as a warmth spreads in his heart, hopeful that you are having a good time, whoever, and wherever you are.

“What’s up with him?” Jo asks Sam softly, not wanting to rob him out of whatever was cheering him on.

“No one ever knows with him.” Sam shrugs, throwing an amusing smile at his brother, not that he noticed. “He has been a little hush since yesterday.”

“Jo,” Dean speaks out of the blue, bursting the bubble he had built around him.

“Yeah?” She replies, in anticipation of knowing what his next words will be, curious about what he had been contemplating all this while.

“Do you know a girl around our age in the hunting business?”

“To be quite frank, there are a lot. I can’t just tell who you’re talking about just from that.”

Dean takes the last drink out of his glass before turning towards Jo, giving her a serious look.  “She was here yesterday.”

“Oh, you mean Y/N?” 

And with that, Dean’s life takes a different turn again.

Part 3

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I wanna get back into writing again, can you send in any requests or something? Thanks in advance :)

Wanna read more of my works? Check out the masterlist linked at the top!

I'm not tagging anyone this time because it has been so long since I last posted this series, or anything to be honest, so please let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts (let me know in the reblogs)!

#dean winchester angst #dean supernatural #deanwinchester #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x yn #dean x reader #dean winchester soulmates au #dean winchester soulmates #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader series #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural imagine

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”      

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary. 

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.   

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.  

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.   

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.  

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x female!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #spn #spn fics #spn fanfic #zepskies #zepskies writes #soulmate au #soulmates #spn season 1 #reference to ​S1E09 - Home #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x soulmate!reader

[spnfanficpond]

Hi

I’m here for a fic that I can’t find it anymore..it was dean x reader where reader came from another universe and cas had to bring her to their own universe cause there was a prophecy about her and dean. Apparently they where soulmates.

And at the end because reader wasn’t from their universe she didn’t have any matching soulmate tattoo but finally it will appear on her wrist.

You know which blog has this? I lost it and I love soulmate fics.

This is ringing a distant bell, but I'm not sure the fic I read so long ago is exactly what you're looking for. Gonna see if anyone else knows this one!

ANYONE KNOW THIS FIC?

#michelle answers #help needed #find a fic #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x reader #soulmate au

[childhoodshour]

destiel soulmate au where cas knows who his soulmate is supposed to be but he has to wait centuries for dean to even be born and then when he can finally meet him for the first time, everything has to flow naturally in order for the bond to even begin to show.

#no ‘im castiel and your my soulmate’ #it has to be months and months of ‘what’s your favorite color’ #and ‘wow yeah ac/dc does make good music’ #before the bond even makes itself known #i have destiel brainrot #destiel #soulmate au #dean winchester #supernatural #castiel novak #castiel #edit: you’re* idk how to type

[spnhunter4life]

Masterlist

One Shots

Day Off (Dean x reader) Y/N and the boys are finally taking a much deserved day off. She plans on staying in bed all day and watching TV until Dean comes in with news about a job.

Why Not? (Dean x reader) Dean and Y/N are both single on Valentine’s Day and decide to have a “friend date.” With a little help from a flirty waitress, feelings are realized and confessed.

Two B  Dean knows just how to help on a bad day.

Two Minutes to Midnight (Dean x reader) Y/n is out for a fun day with Sam when things take a turn for the worse. Desperate for help, they turn to Castiel for answers. But how helpful will the unreliable angel be?

Drunk Girl (Dean x ofc) Dean's night doesn't go quite as he planned when the girl in the bar is in need of company and a ride home. (Loosely based off of the song by Chris Janson)

Not So Bad Bad information on a hunt leads to a tense situation that ends in confessed feelings.

Winchester’s Girl (Dean x reader) Friends to lovers hockey AU

Series

So Long (Dean x original female character) Jenna and Dean have known each other since she was 9 and he was 11. Their fathers often hunted together, so they grew up in next door motel rooms, keeping each other company and watching out for Sammy. They were inseparable until their dads inevitably fought and stopped working together. Shortly after Sam left for college, her father had been killed on a hunt and his dad had been more and more distant, so they started hunting together. In a world where everyone has a tattoo of their soulmate’s name that appears somewhere on them on their 16th birthday, it took them a ridiculous amount of time to figure things out.

Familiar   Part 2   Part 3 (Dean x reader) Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster’s type.

End Up Here (Dean x original female character) A short story about falling in love. Emily goes out for the night with a group of friends. She wasn't expecting to meet a handsome stranger or anything that followed.

Bullets and Ballgowns (Dean x original female character) In the summer of 1813, the arrival of a new family in Brighton causes much excitement for the townsfolk. Anna Foster is shocked to realize she has already met the elder of the two sons, Dean. As she gets to know the family better, she must fight her feelings for him. Though she finds herself drawn to him, it is impossible that they could ever be together.

Video Links

#masterlist #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x platonic!reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x ofc #case fic #soulmate au #comfort fic

[aylacavebear]

Master List

A/N: 4/21/24 - Starting a new job, and in June, I will be picking my daughter up for the summer. I may not be able to stay on weekly uploads or write as much as I have been. I am also starting a new job. So, I will upload and write when I have the time. Thanks for understanding.

So far, I only do series, and I'm working on several. Bear with me while I get this setup, lol. I hope you guys enjoy reading these as much as I had writing them and rereading them. Most are a work in progress, and I'll post them when I can.

A/N: Will do my best to upload at least one chapter to each of the ones I'm currently working on, once a week per the date of the last upload from each one.

She Thought She Was Normal (Series) (Completed) Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC A/N: Smut in one chapter -----------------------------------------

Stockroom Antics (Series) (Completed) Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC

----------------------------------------- Dimensional Shift (Series) (Editing & Writing) Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC A/N: This one is basically the show with a twist, and it will start just before Dean comes back from hell. A/N: I have to put this one on hold. It needs more editing than I realized. -----------------------------------------

The Traveler (Series) (currently writing) Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC Reader & Sam Winchester x OC Reader. A/N: Make sure to get in on the fun here. Uploads on Sundays -----------------------------------------

Retribution (Series) (currently writing) Pairing is Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You A/N: Severely DARK. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS Uploads on Wednesdays -----------------------------------------

#spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural oc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x femaleoc #nephilim fanfiction #nephilim #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #soulmates #dimension travel #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #demon dean x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic series #spnfandom #soulmate au #supernatural au #spn fic

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Possessive Lucifer {1}

Chapter Summary; You dress up to go on a hunt, something Lucifer isn’t to keen on. However, with a warning to anyone who dares touch you, he sends you off. That, and a little souvenir to remind you that you’re his.

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: 1/2

Word; 3.700

Warnings; nudity, suggestive themes

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: So here’s the first of many drabbles for the SIN (Soulmates in nature) series. It was one of the first one’s I had planned and is a favourite troupe of mine for our beloved archangel.

MAIN MASTERLIST

It wasn't often you brought out your makeup. It wasn't often you needed to balance the few, yet essential, products on the edge of your sink to not slip down and break. Nor was it often you stared at yourself, hopeless of how you would be able to follow the tutorial playing on your phone.

"How can someone get good at this?" You mumbled as you attempted to follow the makeup artist's guide on 'how to succeed with your eyeshadow not appearing like a blob of diffused colours'. Their title a bit more eloquently put than your thoughts.

"I don't even understand why you humans think that makes you look more appealing". You dropped the small brush from your eyelid, shooting Lucifer a glare over your shoulder.

"If you could poof makeup like hers on my face, then I know you would change your mind", you huffed, using the makeup brush to point at the person creating a masterpiece on their face, one you tried to copy.

The devil cocked a brow at you from where he leaned against your dresser. "Who do you think I am?"

"I don't know. Genie?" You shrugged, turning around and examining the parts of your makeup that were better and the areas where it... wasn't. "Even though I wouldn't say no to his help, I don't think he would be as powerful as you".

"Flattery will take you nowhere when putting that paint on your face is far below what my powers can, or if I could, should be used for".

"I take back my statement. Genie is more powerful", you grumbled, reaching down to replay the part of the video you'd missed while speaking to Lucifer, not too thrilled you had to bite the lemon of doing your makeup yourself.

Hunting often didn't crave much of you, not much more than a potentially fucked up sleep schedule. You didn't count the gamble with your life. However, tonight was one of those few times you needed to dress up for a hunt.

Sam and Dean had found a case where people ended up dead with claw-like marks marring their chests, faces or any other places you could think of. According to official reports, a wolf was behind the attacks. And though many things about the physical encounter also pointed towards werewolves for you guys, after some investigation, you'd ruled out the lunar worshippers concerning the heart of each victim was intact. However, a particular part of the brain was always missing.

It had meant nothing to you when the doctors mentioned all victim's pituitary glands had been removed, other than a feeling it was more than an eerie coincidence. Although, to Sam and Dean, it had been the clue to solving what monster you were after. A kitsune.

You'd never run into a kitsune, heard of them from lores and stuff but never needed to hunt them. However, Sam told you that it wasn't weird concerning this particular fox-like creature was a rare occurrence. And yet, this Kitsune didn't hide in the shadow of the night. On the contrary, the incredibly normal-looking guy you were after was a successful businessman hosting a party to celebrate his newest project. Dean had joked that maybe the sicko eats brain as some kind of symbol for his own further success, as he'd said: 'Doubles the brain power, you know'.

Although thankful that you'd managed to get hold of tickets to the party, something you still don't understand how the brothers accomplished, you weren't all too excited about it. You barely owned more clothes than those suited for hunting and leisure, which meant you'd needed to go out in search of a formal dress.

You almost gave up, stole the Impala to flee back to the bunker, all while convincing Dean over the phone you would find something wearable in your closet, which you wouldn't have accomplished. But you didn't even come further than almost giving up, seeing how you didn't even succeed in persuading the older brother why you needed the keys to his baby. Instead, Dean hooked his arm in yours and dragged you along when he figured out your plan, stating that if he needed to suffer, then so would you.

In the end, it had been worth getting dragged along, seeing how you returned home with a dress you at least could admire for the rest of your life after tonight. Jewells decorated the bust, the stones fanning out the further down the eye journeyed until they gave away to fabric in a silky shade of sage, the material falling until it reached the floor.

Yes, it would be the prettiest thing you owned by a mile and for that reason, you hid it inside the cover you'd received when you bought it until the very moment you needed to put it on. In other words, you were scared to ruin it as you played with what you considered adult finger-paint.

"Can't get better now", you mumbled to yourself. The video had paused once it reached the end, so you cancelled the upcoming one in between attempts to touch up some parts of the makeup to get as close to perfect as possible. If someone would ask you, it didn't do much, but you could always hope a more experienced eye would say differently.

"Finally done?" You heard as you turned, finding Lucifer in not much of a different position than ten minutes ago.

"Nothing better to do than stand there and stare?" You shot back. Although he only shrugged in response, you doubted the archangel didn't have anything to say.

Lucifer's eyes flickered over your face, his head tilting as he, without a doubt, took in your dolled-up look. You couldn't fend off the twitch of your lip, which not long after curved your mouth into a smile, witnessing him so transfixed with you. And upon noticing your reaction, the devil's eyes swiftly found yours.

"Eating up your words yet?" You teased him with a chuckle.

"Still think it's unnecessary", Lucifer replied, seemingly unbothered, though the way he said it a bit too curtly spoke against it.

"Very well, if you've stayed for this long, there's no reason I should shoo you out when you can help me into the dress", you said as you walked over to your open door, which was the single place you had been able to hang up your dress, and hooked of the sealed package.

"Have you missed the wings, or do you just decide to ignore them?" You glanced over your shoulder as you closed the door, finding Lucifer pointing to the iridescent entities resting beside him.

"They're still very much there", you began as you wandered over to your bed, putting down the garment bag and sipping it open. "But I don't think you'll say no to seeing me naked, so something you have to pay for doing it", you continued, wiping your hands on your robe just to make sure no makeup resided on them before pulling out your dress.

"Pay to do it, you say?" Your gaze rose when Lucifer's voice sounded closer. He moved up alongside you, hands finding your hips as he stopped.

"Perhaps not, but you can spare a few favours for your mate, I believe". You looked up at the archangel as he brought you closer to him.

"That so?" Lucifer cocked a brow. "What would I get in return?"

"Well...", you pulled the word out. "Seeing me naked?"

He tipped his head back and forth as if truly contemplating your offer before his lips quirked. "Sounds fair".

"You better think that", you scoffed, taking a step away to pull at the belt of your robe and letting it fall to the ground. A low whistle was heard, and though you felt a heat enter your chest as Lucifer shamelessly let his eyes roam your body, only covered by your skimpiest pair of panties, you shot him a look.

"No bra, how dirty", he commented, gaze lifting to meet your unimpressed glare. "Could practically skip these as well". The devil reached forth, hooking his finger in the black strap curving over your hip and making it snap lightly across your skin as he let go.

Shooing away his hand, you bent forwards and plucked your dress out of its cover. "I said you can look, not touch". As you saw one of his hands stretching forwards again in the corner of your eye, you took a step to the side and held your dress in front of you, angling your body toward him.

"And, I want to be at least a bit comfortable as I wear this". You jostled the piece covering your front before continuing. "Neither do I want any ugly creases, so have it".

"I'm not complaining", he smirked, to which you rolled your eyes.

"Of course you aren't".

Your eyes widened, a gasp escaping you when Lucifer's hands shot out, anchoring on your lower back and pulling you against him. No matter that your dress was kept in place by how closely your bodies pressed together, your fingers curled further into the fabric.

"Someone's becoming bold". The devil cocked his head, gazing down at you.

You swallowed at his tone, feeling the earlier heat spread and conquering his radiating chill, which seeped so softly through the fabric of your dress. Despite the flush sensation, you raised your chin when his words echoed in your mind. "And what if I am?"

"Dangerous thing for the naked one to be".

"Dangerous? I hardly think that".

"Perhaps not dangerous", he hummed, eyes falling from watching yours to the heave of your chest. "But... pushing your luck".

You arched a brow, head shifting to the side. "And what happens if I continue to push?"

"What do you think happens to a vixen who plays with fire?" Lucifer's hands travelled down your back, beneath the sharp black line of your panties, until they caught by his wrists, naturally stopping his movements.

Your mouth opened, but rather than words leaving your tongue, a sharp breath wheezed past your teeth, only to escape your lungs a second later when the devil groped your ass, his strong hands bringing you to your toes as he forced you further up his chest.

He gazed down at you, head tilting as his blue eyes darkened. "What I wouldn't do to see you so prettily ruined right now".

Your mouth ran dry, a warm shiver sweeping over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "I should be thankful that your ever-so-good moral keeps you from doing it then". A low sound escaped Lucifer as you said this.

"I should be recognised as a Saint for it", his voice had dropped and you couldn't help but mumble your reply thanks to this.

"Mhm, so will the to-be-crowned Saint help his mate with what he promised?".

"I remember no promise".

"Lucifer", you sighed. Even if he cheekily groped your ass one more time, he flashed you a smile, releasing you and stepping away so you could unzip the dress.

The devil followed your every move. His eyes burning seemingly all over your skin at once as you slipped into the dress. The material was cool as you pulled it up your body, the rhinestones pressing against your palm as you held the garment against your chest, preventing it from falling,

When you turn around, the zipper sways with the fabric and taps against your skin. You wait for Lucifer to help you secure the dress, but when you don't feel him step closer and the chilled zipper continues to rest against your lower back, you glance over your shoulder.

You find his eyes gliding over you, not hurrying to meet your gaze. It's a slow sweeping motion up your back, the curve of your shoulder, until his blue eyes finally settle on yours. You arch a brow, but Lucifer only shrugs at you before he steps closer. Deciding to not argue or tease him about the bloom of something you feel through the bond, the one he admittedly tries to downplay, you look forward.

A light touch at your lower back and you know he's found the zipper. When the knuckle of his finger slides along your skin right before the tightening of the fabric, you know he's relieving you of the task of keeping up your dress at the front. You know he's closed the entire thing when Lucifer's other hand raises to fasten the hook at the top to keep the pin in place.

There's a slight pause before you sense how he leans closer, not long after, how his lips find the easy excisable skin at your shoulder. You don't let him press more than two pecks along the curve of your neck, knowing where he would end up if you allowed him to continue on his path.

Taking a step forwards and out of his reach, you turn on your heel, almost catching on the dress' trail. "I don't want you ruining any of this before I even leave for the hunt". As you said this, something in Lucifer's demeanour changed. A dark bolt of lightning struck in his eyes as his lips pursed into a thin line.

"You're going out like that". It wasn't a question, more so a statement as the devil remembered you didn't only dress up like this for fun, or him.

"Lucifer-", you began, but before you could finish the sentence, one of his hands slipped into the slit parting over your left leg to possessively grip the backside of your thigh, the other engulfing your neck to keep your wide eyes pinned on him.

"If anyone looks at your wrong, if anyone touches you, if they dare even think about you, they're dead". Lucifer's voice was chillingly cold and yet something lit on fire in your lower stomach as the words dripped like venom from his tongue.

"Okay", you breathed, taken off-guard by his sudden display. The devil noticed -not because you made any effort to hide it- cocking his head with a smirk curling his lips.

"No rebuttal?"

"If I would've, it would jeopardise my makeup and concerning how my hair already is living close to the edge of surviving, I can't risk it". There was still the ghost of a smile adorning Lucifer's lips as he watched you.

He leant down then and you tried to move away, but he simply held you in place by your neck. The hand grasping your thigh found its way out from the fabric, sneaking upwards over your waist, then ribcage.

You wanted to struggle and complain about the hand burying itself further into your hair, but as if the archangel could read your thoughts, he spoke before you could voice your concerns.

"They're only gonna see if you move", he mumbled against your lips before his head dipped down.

He trailed kisses from your throat and downwards, light ones starting where your makeup didn't reach and you felt more of his stubble than the pillow of his lips. As if it already wasn't hard being still for the sake of your appearance, it became even harder to not squirm upon what he did next.

Lodging his thumb beneath the bend of your jaw, Lucifer tilted your head backwards. His head dipped to the edge of your dress to counter the movement of your head while his hand trailed upwards and over your breast, tugging slightly at the fabric covering it. As soon as the bejewelled part separated from your skin, his lips found the newly exposed part of you.

Your hand shot to the back of his head, curling into his blonde locks when he let his teeth graze you before his lips attached and he sucked at the supple skin.

A breathy sound passed your lips and though you knew you should tug at his hair until he relented with his action, you didn't have enough strength to do it. And so, you simply let him work the bruise into your skin.

It didn't take long before the telltale sting where his mouth rested upon you reached the surface and the whimper escaping you was Lucifer's sign he'd succeeded with what he wished and eased up not soon after. A kiss to the spot he'd concentrated on, his finger unhooking from your dress to let it drop back, a nudge to the back of your head and you gazed upon a smug-looking Lucifer again.

"See, no harm done". Your eyelids dropped close and you let out a heavy sigh at the devil's comment.

You shook your head, feeling the amused jostle of his body. "Depends on what you're talking about". You opened your eyes once more, the creases in the corner of his eyes more accentuated as his grin broadened.

"The pretty paint on your face, of course".

"You really live up to your name sometimes". You stepped out of his arms without any resistance this time.

"Was given it for a reason". You caught the smugness coating each word as you glanced down, finding that the hickey Lucifer created was just about covered by your dress.

"Thanks for that. I practically won't be able to move without someone seeing this", you concluded, eyes darting to the devil.

"As I said, don't move and they won't see it", he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Menace", you grumbled, not caring about continuing the argument -and how that definitely wasn't what he'd meant for the phrase to imply earlier- knowing very well that Sam and Dean soon would be knocking at your door if you didn't hurry up.

Moving to your bed, you sat down to step into the flats you would wear to and from the venue, snatching the heels you would torture yourself with in-between as you stood.

When you headed to the door, you caught yourself in the mirror above your sink. Stopping in the middle of a step, you turned to look at your reflection.

Even though it could've been worse, you brush your fingers through your hair to smoothen down those stray strands that Lucifer was the culprit of sweeping out of place. And, just as you thought about him, your eyes flittered to watch him walk closer in the mirror.

Hastily turning around, you faced him as you pointed at him to stop. "Oh, don't you dare". The archangel raised his brows.

"No goodbye kiss?"

Albeit feeling a tingle in your lips upon his suggestion, you scoffed, not falling for his attempt at making you look as tousled as you felt. "I think you've done enough kissing". You replied, moving towards the door and heading out of your room with Lucifer in tow.

The second you walk into the library, you find Sam and Dean dressed in black smokings. Albeit the younger one lounged in one of the chairs, seemingly unbothered by the not so often seen attire on either of them, the older of the two was pacing, repeatedly tugging at his collar.

"You two clean up well", you called out just as Sam turned to you, a gentle smile spreading as his eyes scanned your appearance.

"Thank you, though I think you'll be the one convincing people we belong at that party".

"Thought your brother was the charmer", you reply.

"And I thought I signed up for being a hunter, not an undercover spy dressing up all cute". You couldn't help but snort at that, shaking your head with a smile. "The sooner we get going, the sooner I'll be out of this", Dean continued, not waiting for either your or his brother's confirmation that you were ready before heading towards the stairs with long strides.

"I take that as our cue". Sam stands from the chair, making an over-exaggerated bow and a sweeping moment with his arm, showing you should take the lead, a 'my lady', following his move.

Not even before your lips could twitch into a smile at the display, a voice sounded from behind you.

"Careful, Sammy, don't want your outing to end before it even begins". Your eyes meet Sam's as he rises to his full height before both of you turn to watch the archangel standing behind you.

Lucifer's arms were crossed over his chest, face fixed into something that could be mistaken for a relaxed look, even if it so evidently wasn't. There was an underlying tension in his body, irritation flaring in his eyes and you saw how he worked his jaws as his gaze was set on the hunter behind you.

You switched to look to Sam when you saw him shift in the edge of your vision. Now his hands were raised, head tipping slightly.

"Duly noted". Compared to the younger Winchester's reply, you only rolled your eyes. If Lucifer was moody enough to snap at Sam about something like this -something he practically never was concerned about- you don't know if you looked forward to leaving him to cool down or feared he only would mull over it until you returned.

Turning on your heel, you move towards the devil, settling on the middle ground to your earlier train of thought.

As you near, Lucifer's eyes finally settle on you, eyebrows raising when you stop before him. Without any further ado, you lean up, planting a kiss on his cheek. At your back, you can practically feel how Sam does anything but look at you and Lucifer, still not entirely -even that was a stretch- comfortable with either of you well... living up to being soulmates.

"Didn't think you wanted to say goodbye", the devil retorted, arms remaining overlapped in front of him. Stubborn. You roll your eyes, knowing very well that if Sam wasn't present, they would've fallen to his or your side.

"Neither did I, just attempting to calm you". Lucifer cocks a brow, forcing you to give him a look when you see an argument arise, even if he hasn't worded it yet. "Don't deny it".

"Not denying anything", he countered curtly, leaning down so your shared breaths. "But I don't discriminate when it comes to carrying out my warnings".

"Aside from me". You pecked the archangel's lips, not fully catching the edge of his words, only trying to distract him from his own attitude with the brush of your lips. "Be good". While he stands tall again, he briefly closes his eyes and raises his brows, which you deem enough of an answer to turn around and save Sam from the awkwardness of examining the roof and finally head after Dean. Brushing past the heat -and not the entirely pleasant kind- rippling through your bond.

Taglist: PS, I tagged the same people as in the original series, if any of you don't want to get tagged in the updates for this series (drabbles, one-shots etc) just give me a heads up!

@the-fiery-ghost @ambivertedcroissant @xthefuckerysquaredx@americancowgirl19 @wayward-winsister @itsmeempar @alizayalove @aliceblxck @canyouimaginethatstory@musiclovinchic93 @eyghim18 @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog@emiliasaffron @batavrahamvsara @fanfic-love-show@imagine-inc @randomheart551 @jana-jaeynneee @ay0nha @brooklynchrr420@shippinglover @bun-dpdbny @tardis-world@blonde-in-charge @jokersqueenofchaos @baybeekenzie1@fandomgeekforever @perilous-blue @mistress-sassafrass @book-of-anarchy @nerdettezebracorn333 @herlovetragedy @coolbean121@bagsy-not-it @abbyss @taikawho @sagyunaro @dementedsnowfox​ @kcam1621​  @acaotch​ @crispycooter @browneyedgirl22 @misstress-sassafrass @bun-dpdbny​ @imagine-inc @enby-thesbian​ @stradlingmrstradlin​ @violetlilites​ @luciferslittledevil666​ @butterflykiisies​ @antisocial-thing​ @destinationdesignation​ @big-bad-batsy​ @yournightmare-1987​ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday​ @brujaporfavor​ @galaxypox​ @whitetigerlover17 @loki-is-loved​ @leeannlips-blog @here4thespice​

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