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welldonebeca · 9 months

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The Triplets (9)

WC: 4.3k words Warnings: Smut. Foursome. Dirty talking. Fluff. Voyeurism. Brotherly competition. A bit of exhibitionism. Praising kink. Threesome. Multiple orgasms. Sloppy seconds/thirds. Some ass slapping. Anal play. Degrading kink. Sex pictures. Video taping. Daddy kink. Uncle kink. Rough sex. Aftercare. Cuddling. Unsafe sex.

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The moment they stepped inside, Ben was already pulling Lizzie to him, big hands possessive as they grabbed her waist, and she gasped in surprise before Beau scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

"Hey!" his brother protested.

"Talking, Ben," he walked to the couch. "That's what we are doing."

She couldn't even protest as he carried her away, leaving him huffing.

"I got blue balls now, you know?" he asked. "It's very serious."

"Good thing both your hands function," Dean quipped. "And you can use them."

Beau carried Lizzie to the living room, and brought her down to the same stupid couch where everything happened, placing her on his lap.

"Shouldn't I get dressed?" she asked, fidgeting in the big hoodie and little shorts she'd managed to put on.

But he placed his hand around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

"It's fine," he assured her. "We just want to talk, okay?"

The other two sat down, and she could see Ben pouting as they fell into silence, and she couldn't quite pick who she was even looking at.

"Well..." Dean spoke slowly. "Hm."

Beau rubbed her thigh gently.

"You should know," he spoke gently. "That if you don't want anything with us. That if you ever feel like this isn't a relationship you want to get into, you don't have to do so."

"We don't expect sex as rent, that's what he means," Ben crossed his arms. "Those are different things."

She nodded. Lizzie knew that already! They were good people, good men!

They would never, ever, force her into anything. She was the problem!

"I know," she assured them. "I just... I need you to know you guys don't need to do anything! You don't need to pretend for me!"

Beau squeezed her.

"Pretend?" he asked.

She looked back at him.

"You're brothers," Lizzie reminded them. "And I don't want to stand between you, I don't want you to think you have to pretend you are alright with anything I do, because I'm a guest in your house and one of your brothers might like me!"

She turned to face Ben and Dean.

"The way I feel..." she took in a deep breath. "I wish I could say one of you makes me feel this way, but it is not true. All of you do, and I know it is so wrong and-"

"Bullshit," Ben interrupted her.

Lizzie deflated and Beau stiffened behind her, his grip turning protective.

"I know, it's hard to understand," she told him. "But my feelings..."

"Not your feelings," he stopped. "Your feelings make sense. Them being wrong? That's bullshit."

He leaned closer to her, green eyes hard and so certain it made her shiver.

"I want to be with you, Dean wants to be with you, Beau wants to be with you," he listed. "You want to be with us. Everyone is an adult, everyone is sober, everyone is mentally... not too bad."

Dean chuckled by his side.

"What is stopping us?" Ben asked.

Lizzie looked an answer, but gasped when he stood, grabbed her face and kissed her.

She got wet right there and then.

Well, it wasn't like she wasn't already from being fucking in the kitchen, but being kissed by him while on Beau's lap and with Dean watching?

Yes, it was something extra.

"I thought we were here to talk," Dean spoke very loudly.

"We are," Beau growled behind her. "Do you think of anything but sex?"

But someone tugged on her shirt, pulling it up, and she gasped when Ben moved up to her tits, caressing her nipples with rough thumbs.

"Can you, when she looks so pretty when she is turned on?" he pulled back, speaking against her hips.

Beau moved under her, as if to move her away, and she stood up, pressing her chest to Ben's hands.

"Lizzie," he called behind her.

Ben pinched her nipple, tugging on it, and she moaned.

"Please," she whined.

She hadn't even cum!

"You wanna be all high and mighty, then check for yourself," Ben commanded. "Pull those little shorts, check if she's enjoying it."

But she pulled away from him, and Ben and Beau followed her with their eyes and she stood before them, and Lizzie tried her best to look sexy as she moved her hands to her shirts and pushed them down, stripping for them.

Could she make a little show with two pieces? She could try.

The three watched her silently, and she took in a deep breath before pulling off the big sweatshirt, and Dean inhaled when she revealed her ass.

Oh, he was still behind her, wasn't he?

Lizzie pulled it up and up, until her tits were out too, and tried to look elegant as she threw it from over her head.

She looked back at Dean, finding him licking his lips, and Ben chuckled.

"This is better than any strip show," he joked. "If only I had some ones..."

"Shut up, she's not a stripper," Beau gruffed.

She looked back at them, and they were all seated, watching.

Waiting for who would take the first step, maybe?

She was about to pick for them when she felt Dean's hand behind her, squeezing her ass and pulling her.

"Let me have my own share," he whispered into her ear.

Lizzie giggled, touching his face and turning around, kissing his lips and touching his chest.

"If you are going to hoard her, at least let us see," Ben complained.

Dean, though, pulled her to his lap, making her straddle him, and pulled Lizzie up to kiss her neck.

"You can watch her bubble ass as she bounces on my cock," he grabbed her hips.

She gasped when he moved his lips to her sensitive nipple, biting sweetly and sucking on it.

"Dean," she gasped.

His hand spread her legs, and she tried to arch her ass to the other boys.

She could hear the moment they saw her pussy, the way they inhaled in deep.

Lizzie's attention was taken back when Dean pushed his fingers into her cunt, and almost didn't hear as someone walked away.

Was everything alr-

"Fuck, you're still a little loose from Ben fucking you," he hissed. "Taking cock so well, baby... you didn't even wait for us to join you."

She whined, feeling her face hot.

Not like she knew they wanted to join.

"Did he make you feel good, baby?" he licked her other breast. "Did my dumb brother make you cum?"

She squirmed.

"Well..." Lizzie mumbled.

Dean stopped.

"What is it?" Beau asked, and she could hear him moving.

Dean pushed his fingers into her hair, making her fall with her head on his chest, and fucked her slowly with his fingers.

"He didn't make her cum!" he exclaimed, outraged.

Beau pinched her nipples.

"That won't do," he decided. "Not even getting fucked made her cream?"

She squirmed, basking in the mix of being paid such attention to, but being spoken over as if she wasn't even there.

Beau pulled her, making her stand up, and Lizzie gasped when Dean turned her around quickly.

"I guess we do need to do all the work here, hm?" Beau hummed, kissing her lips.

Lizzie melted into his arms and his sweet, sweet kiss, already, and just let him manhandle her back into Dean's lap, this time facing away from him.

She barely processed when the head of Dean's cock poked her entrance, and mewled when she felt the tip entering her.

"We're going to make you cum, pretty girl," he pulled out, rubbing his head on her clit before moving back and then pushing into her again.

Beau pulled his hand, and she whimpered when he rested his forehead on hers and reached between her legs, caressing her clit with his fingers.

Lizzie moaned loudly as his brother pushed in, filling her up quickly.

"Such a good girl," he praised, finger circling her clit a little tighter. "She swallows up cock so good."

She moaned, throwing her head back, and didn't have time to whine when Beau pulled away from her.

He knelt between her legs and when she looked down at him, the image was the most erotic thing she could have seen.

"Uncle Beau?" she asked softly.

His eyes connected with hers, and he leaned in close to her, sticking out his tongue and licking her clit like a little kitten.

"Just relax, baby girl," Dean put his hand on her waist, sitting her all the way down his thick cock. "Let us make you feel good."

He moved his hips under her, thrusts slow and deep, but Uncle Beau had his own pace.

His lips and his tongue were hungry on her clit, never leaving it, never stopping sucking and licking and playing with her, fast and hungry.

As if she could move at all between them as they did that.

Lizzie was so overstimulated, so overpleasured, she could only fucking take it.

"Fucking hell," Ben growled.

She looked opened her eyes, and he was standing a few steps away from them, watching them.

Dean held her down by her middle, and Beau squeezed her thighs.

Lizzie could only cry.

It was too fucking much.

"You couldn't make her cum," he spoke behind her. "We took over."

Ben huffed.

"I could!" he argued. "But you guys had to barge in before I even tried!"

Beau sucked on her clit harder, and her eyes nearly crossed.

Almost right after, Dean's cock brushed against her sweetest spot, and Lizzie cried out loud.

"Show him how pretty you can cum, sweetheart," he kissed her cheek.

"Fuck!"

Lizzie arched her hips, and gasped when he wrapped his hand around her neck, holding her in place.

She moaned in pleasure, that exact move making her cum.

When she opened her eyes, Ben had his phone up.

"Smile for the came, sweet girl," he walked closer to them.

Dean grabbed her thighs, fucking her deeper as Beau fucking devoured her.

God, she almost came again just like that.

"Please," she whined.

Dean squeezed her neck a little more.

"Cum again, pretty girl," he commanded. "Cum on my cock before I fill you up."

She did, shaking on top of him, and Beau only pulled away from between her legs when she was done.

He kissed her lips with deep hunger, holding her by her hair as Dean fucked her fast and hard on the chair, using her.

Dean moaned under her, and she could feel the moment he filled her up.

It was so warm and tick, so filling.

She couldn't even enjoy the feeling, though, as Beau quickly pulled her up.

He pulled her, taking her right to the couch, and Lizzie gasped when he tossed her with her belly down, pulling her hips up and nudging her entrance with his cock.

"You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?" he purred.

"Oh, come on!" Ben walked to you, his phone not in his hand anymore. "You've already fucked her!"

Beau moved his cock, rubbing her sensitive clit, and she gasped as he did.

"So what?"

She was so fucking sensitive.

"Beau," she whined.

"I won't fuck a loose pussy after you are done," Ben protested. "You two have fucked her already and when it was my turn you two just stopped it."

Beau dipped the tip into her, as if he didn't even care, and she whined.

Suddenly, he was taken away, and she opened her eyes to find Ben stumbling back from pushing Beau away, until his brother put him in a headlock.

Fuck, she shouldn't find that hot.

And yet her pussy fluttered, empty.

Needy.

Dean chuckled, and she looked at him, finding him watching them, very amused.

He was very used to that, wasn't he?

"Whoever fucks me last can fuck me longer," she blurted out.

Lizzie only processed her words when they were already out, and Beau smirked when their eyes connected, releasing Ben.

"Well," he stood straighter. "Go on, Benny. Have your turn. I don't mind having some sloppy thirds."

She was flustered at his words, but Ben didn't care.

"Make sure to try and make her cum this time, will you?" Dean teased him.

He scoffed, moving to her, and Lizzie looked back at him as he caressed the middle of her back.

"Where were you?" she whined.

Why had he left?

He pulled two things from his pocket, and her eyes widened, showing them off to her.

A butt plug.

And lube.

"I had a little plan for you," he hummed. "But I think we'll have to wait, hm?"

She gasped when he felt his cock nudging her.

"I guess tonight you're going to be our little cum dump."

"Ben," Dean called.

Ben scoffed behind her, rubbing her up and down.

"She might be small, but she is a big girl, Dean," he purred. "She's gonna lose her ass virginity at some point. Why not let her Uncle Ben be it?"

She moaned, feeling completely pathetic as he teased her pussy, up and down, up and down, up-

"Please," she whined. "Uncle Ben. Stop teasing me!"

He chuckled, and she jumped when he moved his fingers to caress her ass.

"Ben!" Dean argued.

She whined.

"It's alright," she moaned. "Dean!"

Ben poured something warm against her ass, and she gasped in surprise.

"Wrong name, baby girl," he corrected her, giving her ass a slap.

Lizzie whined.

"You two are so fucking easy on her," he grunted. "She's a needy slut who loves being teased."

She squirmed, closing her eyes when he circled her with his finger, cock brushing against her entrance.

"Ben," she whined.

"Lizzie," he cooed back, mocking her.

Beau scoffed, sitting on the couch, close enough that he could touch her face if he wanted to.

"Just hurry up already," he grunted.

Ben moved behind her, and he tossed something onto him.

"Make yourself useful," he commanded. "Take a picture."

She looked at Beau, and he was rolling his eyes, but took the phone on his lap anyway.

"Wanna be filmed, Lizzie?" he caressed her hair.

Her cheeks burned hot.

"Yes, uncle Beau."

He smirked, and angled the phone to get her face just as Ben teased her asshole, pushing his cock into her cunt very slowly.

"Do you think Ben can fuck your little brains out?" he cooed.

Lizzie nodded, and he took a hand to her face, pushing his fingers into her lips.

"Pretty, pretty girl," he hummed, fucking her mouth.

Ben pushed his cock inside her more, filling her again as his finger pushed a finger into her ass.

"Look at you," Beau fucked her with his fingers. "Eyes so glazy... must be feeling so good, little princess."

Fuck, she could hear how wet her pussy was.

"You are so slicky and squishy..." Beau purred. "Must be so, so easy to just slide in there."

"I can just slide in," Ben hummed.

And he did, pushing all the way into her and making her cry out, and Beau pulled his fingers from her mouth, petting her hair a bit.

They were so fucking big, all of them.

Lizzie's brain dripped from her ears at the thought of being fucked like that every day, filled and used.

"Fuck, suck a good cunt," Ben fucked her with his finger. "Want to have you seated on my cock while I work... gonna make you warm me up."

She whined.

"Please," she begged.

But Dean chuckled.

"What work?" he scoffed.

Ben bent down, pressing his lips to her ear.

"I'll fuck you during my shows," he whispered into her ear. "I've been thinking about getting a pussy to fuck, and now I got one for free."

She moaned in pleasure.

Wait, did he work with livestreams?

"We'll see how many times they'll allow me to make you cum," he bit her earlobe. "That might teach you, hm?"

Lizzie gasped, and he pulled back, taking his cock almost all the way out and then pushing into her again.

"Ben!"

He chuckled.

"Teach me what?" she moaned.

He pulled his finger back, and when it came back, there were two of them.

"To be patient," he grunted. "And take what we give you. Maybe they'll drive the message better than me."

She moaned.

The thought of that made her feel so gooey.

Dozens... maybe hundreds of people watching her get fucked and used. Making her cum and cum until she was stupid.

His cock brushed against her sweet spot and Ben took a hand down, pinching her clit.

"Won't you love that?"

"Yes," she begged. "Please, Ben!"

He pulled his fingers out, and she gasped when he pushed the plug into her all the way in.

Before she could even react to it, he moved behind her, fucking her hard.

The way she moaned was embarrassing.

Beau put the camera on her face, missing the way his brother was using her, focused on her face.

She probably looked like the sluttiest of whores.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Daddy," she cried.

"Fuck," Beau growled.

Ben buried his cock into her cunt, moaning darkly and cumming deep in her, filling her up.

So much cum in her pussy, God...

Beau laughed at his brother.

"Couldn't hold back, Ben?" he teased, tossing his phone at him. "Move over. I'll show you two."

He panted behind her, still, patting the plug, and she whined.

"Shut up, Beau," he grunted. "Been hard for a fucking hour."

"Yeah, yeah," his brother scoffed. "Don't let the cum out."

But Ben didn't move, kissing her back at first.

"Take care of it for me, will you, pretty girl?" he twisted the toy inside her, making her whine. "I'll start training that ass tomorrow."

Ben pulled back from inside her, but she had no time to get used to being empty, and Beau pushed his cock inside her right away.

"Uncle Beau!"

"There's my pussy, missed it all day," he grunted. "So messy, dripping out all that seed."

She moaned, closing her eyes.

"Do you think that'll be enough to breed you?" he picked her up, sitting her on his lap facing his brothers.

Lizzie moaned, her head falling back onto his shoulders.

"But we can't!" she whined.

He took his hand to her pussy, rubbing her clit.

"Oh, I've seen where that goes," Ben chuckled, phone pointed to her. "Sweet girl can't be bred by loved it so, so much."

Lizzie whined, squirming on top of him.

"But Ben!" she whined.

He clicked his tongue.

"No, sweetheart," he corrected her. "I'm daddy."

She pouted, squirming as Beau rubbed her clit.

"All that cum inside you," he purred. "I can feel how much you like it, I can feel your stupid cunt squeezing my cock."

Dean stood, walking to stand by her side, and pinched her nipples.

"Her tits are so small," he noted. "Imagine how big they'll get when we put our baby in her."

She could only moan, mind in a goo.

That couldn't feel hot. It shouldn't make her horny, it-

"Go on, baby," uncle Beau kissed her ear. "Cum for us while we breed you."

She came, crying and shaking on top of him, completely soft already, nearly light-headed.

"You're gonna let us use you just like that, won't you?" he made her bounce, Dean's fingers replacing his as Beau grabbed her hips, fucking her. "Gonna let us fill you up, fuck you deep."

"No need to find a job," Ben told her. "Just stay home, be our little stay-at-home girlfriend."

"Our girl," Beau grunted. "Now and forever."

He slammed into her hard, making her feel like her brain was just banging against the walls of her skull.

Again, she came, feeling like it would never even stop.

"I can't," she begged. "Can't cum anymore, please."

Dean pulled his fingers away, and Beau hugged her close as he used her, cumming inside her quickly as she floated in the pleasure of being thoroughly theirs.

She didn't miss the feeling of him cumming in her, and fell onto his shoulder as she kissed sweetly all over her face, shoulder and neck.

She felt someone between her legs, and Lizzie gasped when Beau pulled inside her and hands held her legs spread.

"Fuck, yes," Ben grunted from between her legs. "Look at all that cum, baby girl."

"Careful," Beau panted. "It's going to stain the couch."

"I'll deal with that," he assured him. "I've never stained it, not gonna be a first now."

She heard the sound of Dean gagging for a moment before Ben kissed her thigh and pulled back, and opened her eyes to look at them.

"Poor baby girl," Dean cooed, picking her up, and she wrapped her legs around him weakly. "Let's take you to the bathroom to clean you."

Dean was very gentle with her, never lingering in a weird way, giving her a moment to pee - because UTIs aren't nice - and fixed her hair before carrying her to a very large and very comfy bed.

Lizzie scrunched her nose at being alone, but embraced the body that first lied by her side.

"You know, your room is surprisingly clean."

She looked up, picking up on Beau's voice, and Ben squeezed her.

"What's up with all the cameras?" Dean mumbled.

She looked around, surprised to see how many cameras he had set around, capturing his bed in many positions, all with their lenses covered.

"They are off, don't worry," he gruffed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm not gonna waste my time putting them away for you."

Dean scoffed, and she felt the bed dip, and relaxed when she felt him embracing her closely, only in his underwear.

"Hey," Beau called. "Where do I go?"

She opened her eyes and the boys squeezed her.

He was standing by the bed with an annoyed face.

"I'm not moving," Ben hid his face in her neck.

Beau huffed.

"Ben!" he half whined.

Dean sighed by her side, and Lizzie gasped when he lifted her and put her on top of him.

"We be the bed," he decided.

Lizzie couldn't quite complain.

Beau lied down with them, at last, and she rested on Dean's chest, feeling Beau's fingers when he started to pet her hair.

“When was the last time we all shared a bed together?” he hummed.

"Not since our balls dropped," Ben spoke into her neck.

But Dean had a different answer.

“No, it was definitely after our birthday, two years ago," he corrected him. "You were such a baby and wouldn’t get your fat ass off of my bed, and Beau was worried you’d choke on your vomit in your sleep.”

Ben scoffed.

“Hey, I’m in a strict diet, you definitely weigh more than me, fatso.”

She felt Dean moving to answer him, but Lizzie was quick to diffuse the situation, kissing Dean, then Ben, then Beau.

"Be nice to one another," she scolded them. "You're brothers."

The boys all laughed.

"We are mean to each other because we are brothers," Dean pointed out.

Lizzie huffed and they all kissed her, both her cheeks and forehead.

"We'll be nice," Beau promised. "For you."

Dean hummed in agreement.

"Right, Ben?" he raised his head.

Ben scoffed.

"Right, right."

She smiled, cheeky.

"Good, or you are never touching this pussy again," Lizzie affirmed.

Well...

"For a month," she added.

"Yes, ma'am," they agreed.

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

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aylacavebear · 9 days

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Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft.

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Each chapter will have its warnings posted. This is typical stuff when it involves the Winchesters, no matter what AU they are in, lol.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

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

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know, and I'll add you.

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 4 months

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Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit.

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural season 1 #dean winchester imagine

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sunlightdances · 27 days

Text

Stay (Dean Winchester x OFC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character Rating: PG-13 for swearing and mentions of sex. Summary: Dean and Avery have a two-night stand, and after that weekend, they go their separate ways. They never expected to see each other again, but the universe has other plans. A/N: Guys, where do I even begin? It’s been ages. I miss you. I see your messages, your likes, your reblogs. Thank you. Here’s this. I wrote a lot of it on my phone, so bear with me if there are typos.

It just goes like this, doesn't it?

One night where the both of them could let go of expectations, of being who the universe was making them be. One night.

But just like they knew they didn't have a choice but to be who the universe wanted them to be, they should have known the universe would pull the absolute worst April Fool's Day prank of all time.

They gape at each other, minds racing as images of tangled sheets, open mouths, and moonlit smiles come flooding back.

The task at hand doesn't let them linger too long.

She's firing with military precision, and he's right there with her, sweat dripping down his jaw as he reloads round after round, wondering if the universe put them both here to die together.

But then Sam shows up, like he always does. He saves them both, and the three of them save the day.

It takes longer for Dean to work up the courage to look her in her eyes. He feels-- he feels ashamed somehow, that he let her go that rainy Sunday morning.

There was never an argument or anything. They both just knew it was time. She had said she had to catch a flight and get back to work, and he lied and told her he had to do the same thing.

They had two nights of connection, of passion, but also of affection. He told her things he never told anyone. They spent a Saturday night fully clothed, eating take out straight from the containers in a hotel's king-sized bed. He felt comfortable with her like he hadn't felt with anyone in years.

And yeah, it sucked when she left. He sort of hoped there'd be a knock on the door saying she missed her flight, but he wasn't sad. They both knew what they were signing up for when they met at the bar that Friday night, eyes only for each other.

Still, he thinks he's remembered her kiss every day since.

He still thinks no one has ever touched him like she did.

So, yeah, he's a little angry and flustered when he sees her here, because she said she worked in marketing or some bullshit, and while he didn't expect her to be totally truthful with a stranger, this is a little too coincidental to be believed.

She bats his hands away when he offers to help her bandage a big scrape on her leg, and he tries not to make a face at the rejection. He's very aware of Sam watching him closely, but he has no idea what to say.

There's no point in lying about knowing her. He told Sam that he had spent a weekend with a woman the day he came home from his impromptu trip, but that it was nothing special, nothing but some no strings attached fun.

Turns out Dean might be the one who had a few strings.

Her face feels like it's on fire. Her game plan so far is just to refuse to speak to him, but that feels a bit stupid given the situation they just found themselves in.

Jesus Christ, but he couldn't have said he was Dean Winchester when they met? To be fair - she didn't give a lot of details about herself either. They didn't even really talk about work except when she said there was no way she could stretch her trip into one more day. She had to work.

(She lied about work just like he did, but that's neither here nor there)

She just never thought she'd still be thinking about him months later, much less seeing him in person. In the middle of a hunt.

She did have a real job. She wasn't lying about that. Her work for the FBI is very, very, VERY top secret. Fringe Division has been practically dead for years, but ever since the almost-apocalypse (she supposes she has Dean to thank for that, too), their work is more important than ever.

She was just supposed to be doing field work. Recon. She was never supposed to get involved, but here she is, trying to put a bandage on herself in the middle of the woods.

She can’t stop herself from watching his hands, remembering when they traced every inch of her skin and made her gasp and writhe and the way in the next breath they’d find a ticklish spot and make her laugh.

It’s just all so unbelievable.

Sam is the one to break the ice, which feels inevitable. “So. Anyone want to explain this?” He gestures between her and Dean.

Dean’s jaw clenches. For a moment she feels frustrated because why is he angry? They parted mutually. They both told lies and half truths and let themselves escape in high thread count sheets and each other.

She thrusts out her hand. The one not currently covered in blood. “Avery Harper.”

“Avery.” Sam repeats.

“Technically it’s Special Agent Avery Harper, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean chokes out a laugh, but it’s a little bitter. Avery’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” she suggests. “Food?”

She turns and heads toward her car before anyone says anything else. She hears a whispered argument, an exasperated sigh, and then finally the sound of footsteps on the crushed gravel. A hand grabs her elbow a moment later, then releases her like she’s on fire.

“We look like shit.” Dean’s voice is gruff. “Pizza at our place instead.”

The drive to their place is pleasant, at least. She struggles to keep up with Dean’s car, but she suspects he’s doing it on purpose so she lets him. He’s never truly out of her sight. She uses the time to try to work her way out of this, but decides there’s no point.

The only thing she needs to do is make them understand she’s not trying to take over their turf and that she has no interest in arresting them, and hope that they hear her out.

She follows along a long dirt driveway. The building looks rundown from the outside, but she trusts them. Trusts Dean.

Inside, she’s not ashamed of the way her mouth falls open as she takes in the gleaming tiles and smooth wood. The place is incredible.

“The inner sanctum?”

“Something like that.” Dean mutters, brushing past her. They both pause at the contact.

“I’m going to…. order pizza”. Sam says, quickly making himself scarce.

She and Dean stand there in the fading sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, and the light catches on his eyes. He’s hurt. She can see that, and she does feel guilty. Even though they were both doing the same thing, she’s realizing now that he probably would have loved to know he was completely understood.

That night, even though she didn’t know who he was, she felt a connection that was deeper than attraction. Now she knows why.

“I didn’t know who you were.” She says, hands tightening at her sides.

“How is that possible?”

“Not every agent is out to get you.”

He smirks. “Most of my interactions with the feds say the opposite.”

She exhales.

He rubs a hand over his face. The sound of his stubble scratching against weathered palms takes her back to a warm bed, a feeling of being so cocooned with someone else she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

“Is Avery even your real name?” He asks, voice rough.

“Yes.”

A beat. “Marketing?”

She can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know what to say!”

“You could have bragged about having a badass job.”

She’s surprised, but tries not to show it. “So could you.”

He shrugs. “Wanted to… shed it.”

“Me too.” She admits softly.

This time when he meets her eyes, his are vulnerable, a dark green that leaves goosebumps on her arms. “I—“ he stops himself. She wishes he wouldn’t. He changes tactics. “Let me take a look at that arm.”

“It’s alright-“

“Ave. Let me.”

A shortened version of her name hits her right in the gut. It’s familiar, intimate in a way she hadn’t been expecting. “Okay.” She relents.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

He was angry for a minute, he felt off guard, off kilter, but now that she’s in front of him he can’t bring himself to hold a grudge. He’s just happy to see her.

The FBI.

What a fucking day.

She doesn’t tell him much about why she was hunting, how she knew about the fight he and Sam were in on, how she showed up right when they did and where any of her intel came from.

They’ve always known that someone somewhere in the feds had an inside track, and it always bothered him. But because it’s her, he can’t find it in himself to be angry.

He thinks of the way she didn’t hesitate, just set up shoulder to shoulder with him and aimed her weapon like she’d be damned if anyone or anything tried to get close to the Winchesters.

He’s pretty amazed by her, he’s got to admit. She’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up in the most beautiful package, and that’s what makes him pause. Because he’s never allowed to have good things for long.

In his bathroom he inspects her wounds, uses the excuse to crowd her a little bit, inhales the familiar scent of citrus and vanilla that follows her like a cloud.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything and he’s grateful.

Her hand fits just so in his.

“Thank you.” She says eventually.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Dean—“

He looks up, sees her eyes uncertain, a little wild.

She kisses him before he can take his next breath. It sends heat sizzling up his spine, electricity crackling in the space between them.

It’s exactly how he remembers it, and somehow more. More because they’re truly themselves now, no secrets between them.

His hands are in her hair. Hers are tight on his hips, digging in, a desperation in her touch that he's relieved to feel, proof that he isn't the only one feeling this way.

When the need for air is too much, they wrench apart, gasping. Her mouth goes to his neck, and his lips find her forehead, and he can't do this again. He can't pretend.

"Wait. Avery, wait."

Her eyes are unfocused when she looks at him. "Sorry--"

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I-- god, I wanted that. I just... it's too much. I can't."

"I've thought about this for months." She admits, and his eyes slide shut.

"Don't tell me that."

"It's the truth." When he opens his eyes again, her smile is sad, but there's a bit of hope there too, and it makes his heart pick up speed. "I didn't want to go, that morning. I wanted to give you my number, I wanted to see you again."

"I did too. I wanted you to come back."

"It feels cursed, Dean." She says quietly. "This-- this is all too much of a coincidence."

He nods. "I know. But-- is that so bad?" He leans close, lips at her temple. Can't stop touching her. "Can't we just give ourselves something to be happy about?"

"We do have a lot to fill each other in about." She agrees, words sounding more like a moan in the quiet room.

"Stay." His voice is hoarse. "Stay with me. We'll figure it all out after."

He's tired of denying himself things he wants, things that make him happy. And if all the decisions he's made over the last few months, every thought and every choice have lead him right back here to her, then who is he to question it?

She stays.

#dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x oc #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #not my first original fic on this blog in like 3 years #god #i had a thought and it wouldn't go away

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spnexploration · 6 months

Text

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

SPN Fanfic Pond Dean x Reader tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

@buckys-zomdoll

@canadianspnhunter

@cas-backwards-tie

@castieltrash1

@deanscarlett

@deanwanddamons

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@firefly-in-darkness

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@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

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@akshi8278

@ssonia13

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x OC #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester flirting #spn case fic #x competent reader #x confident reader #dean winchester x escort!reader #spnaubingo #protective!dean winchester #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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lailawinchesterr · 17 days

Text

silence in the city ii

part i summary: you cook for the two boys and start to feel like you’re fitting in again.

tw: reference to the night of the rape but not detailed just him calling her names but guys please be mindful of what you consume, if this might trigger you in any way or if you’re not comfortable with this topic please please don’t read

"Sam," I moan against his hair, sliding my fingers through it. He's kissing my neck, then higher and higher, behind my ear, my face, my lips. He's getting so close to me. And I can't think straight when he's this close because all I can remember is him pounding into me that night—

"Hey," his voice forces me back to where we are. His room. The bunker. His bed. His his his. How do I even fit here, with the Winchesters? “Hey, what happened? Where'd you go?"

"I— I don't know, what happened?" I echo the question, mostly asking what I did when he's decided on shaking me softly out of it.

"You were with me. I was kissing you but you were shaking and... fuck, are you okay? You really scared me. I think you were trying to tell me to stop but you just—" He's stepped back now, sitting on the bed a few inches away, he's still towering over me but it doesn't bother me as much as it did when he was kissing me, he's just really scared.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, trying to get up and off the bed. "Sorry, just thought about something and I couldn't stop."

"Yeah? Was it something bad?" He lets me leave his bed but stares at me in a way that makes me think he won't be so generous about me leaving the room.

"No, just something. I think I'll— yeah, you guys are probably hungry, I'll go make dinner." I don't move until I see him nod, but while walking out I don't miss the way his whole body deflates and his hands scrubbing down his face.

My whole chest hurts and I want to cry again for the tenth time today but I just can’t help it. I’ve been trying so hard with Sam and I know he sees that, I know he hears me cry at night when we’ve went a little too far or how I start shaking whenever we’re alone and he runs a hand up my body. I’m not scared of him, I know he wouldn’t do anything like that, I trust him, but just— i don’t want to, just can’t do anything with him when all I imagine is that fucking monster pounding into me, calling me a slut, telling me to take it.

“Hey, angel,” I perk up at the sound of nickname coming from Dean. I’m still looking through the cabinets for any ideas for dinner so I entertain him, nodding. “What’re you cookin’?” That Texan accent.

“Oh, just pasta probably. I’m not sure, any requests?” He drums his fingers onto the table, seemingly in deep thought, “Not pie, Dean.”

“Dick,” He rolls his eyes but I let out a huff at his playfulness, my tone similar to his.

“Slut,” I retort back quickly, waiting for him to actually give me suggestions. Though it looks like pie was his only running thought (maybe something with bacon too) and I decide to pick out a bunch of random spices, hopefully the idea will come to me as I make it.

I am glad Dean is with me in the kitchen though. For all the shitty me and Sam have been going through this past month, me and Dean have gotten closer, especially since his heartfelt declaration in this very room.

Albeit, I haven’t seen soft Dean since then, but I got enough to last me a lifetime. “What about something from your home? I can try to help too.”

My eyes widen. “You want a proper Egyptian meal? Are you serious?” It makes me giddy more than I’d like to admit cause fuck that’s kinda the most adorable thing anyone has ever asked of me. He wants me to make him something from my culture? That’s…

“Yeah, ‘course. Don’t know why we never had Egyptian before, but let’s do it. What’s on the menu today?” He says casually but my cheek’s all pink and my mouth hurts from grinning and I bet I’m even beaming a bit but it’s all expertly concealed as I give him my back to look through the fridge.

“Yeah, we can do that. How about… do you guys have cabbage?”

“I’m not sure. Sam probably—”

“There, found it!” I answer myself quickly, looking at the bottom drawer. I take it out, figuring it’s big enough for maybe all three of us, could even have some left overs. “I can get started on the mahshy and leave it to cook while I go get some stuff from the market, how’s that? Y’all don’t mind a few hours before dinner, right?”

“The what?”

“Mahshy, honestly our most popular dish. Or maybe waraa enab, either way, you might like them. I don’t know if you’ve ever tasted anything like them but… I can make pizza too, incase it isn’t something you end up enjoying.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good, sweetheart.” I nod then run to the drawers, as if he’ll change his mind, to start getting supplies.

Two hours later I’ve finished making the rice and stuffing it into the cabbage then rolling them, letting Dean attempt a couple, and put it all on the stove to cook. “Okay, I wanna try and make pigeons, too, for protein.”

“I’m sorry— you what?”

I keep scrubbing my hands clean at the sink, biting my lip between my bottom teeth. I often forget what’s common and what’s uncommon here in America, mostly ‘cause I’ve only been here a decade, but in my home two.

“Yeah, I mean, you don’t have to, I don’t know— what kind of bird do you eat? It’s just usually made with pigeon or hamam in Arabic and I guess I figured if we’re… you know, but we can do…” The words are blurting out my mouth and I see Dean holding in a laugh. I deflate a little and he chuckles, walking towards me.

“Sweetheart, whatever you make will be perfect. I didn’t know you were stressing about this. You know we love your cooking.”

“Yeah but this is different, you’ve never had this before and obviously I won’t be offended if you guys don’t like it— that goes without saying,” and I check Dean’s expression through my eyelashes so there’s hopefully no doubt about that, “but I wanna make it good for you.” I’m assuming the you is heavy on him because he takes a deeper breath but then shakes his head, moving his hand from his side to my back.

“Let’s go to the market. Wanna get Sammy?” And then, a beat, “Or you guys could go and I can watch the food here?”

“No, no. He’s probably busy, we should go. Surprise him ‘n all.” Dean looks down at me, he looks like he’s going to reject the idea, plus I’m about to apologize for suggesting it, but then I feel him nudging me forward with a smile and we walk to the garage.

We’re going to the market for some food.

Me and Dean.

It’s uncharacteristic of Sam to both be dry and not grammatically accurate while texting and it makes my chest constrict before I shut the phone off and stare out the window. I already know tears are running down my cheek but I don’t want to acknowledge it at the moment. God, I have so so much to just cry about, it’s all since I’ve stayed with these Winchesters. I love them, and I love Cas, and Charlie, and Jody obviously but that doesn’t take away from all the pain they’ve caused me.

Sam (soulless) fucked me while I kept screaming at him to stop. Practically raped me. Dean didn’t speak to me for years, not even after what Sam did, though I’m not sure how much of that he actually knows. Hunters and supernatural creatures alike have tried to smite me so many times to get the Winchesters that I’ve lost count. I’ve been used as bait too many times and almost died even more. I’ve watched these two men die over and over and over again.

It never ends, even when Sam got his soul back; leviathans got thrown back to purgatory; Dean came back from purgatory; Sam went through the trials; Angels falling then Dean got rid of the mark; then the darkness. It just doesn’t end, and I have been with Sam through it all. Saw him grieve Dean so much I started to miss his brother that I’ve talked to a handful of times. I let him go through the trials after begging him not to, only for him to give them up when Dean asked him to.

I don’t think the boys understand what that night did to me. We were all there, staring at the king of hell gain some ounce of humanity and Sam losing all of his while I sobbed into my knees. My voice had grown hoarse with my screams at Sam at that point. Then Dean came in. We all stilled. We all knew what would come next. We all held our breath. Then;

“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in-front of you. It has never been like that. I need you to see that. I’m begging you.”

“I— how do I stop?”

What I had tried to do for months Dean had done with three words, and of course, yeah, they’re blood and all that, but the look in their eyes? I wasn’t sure whether he loved Dean as innocently as he claims he does.

“Angel?” My head whips, giving me a damn migraine, and I face the older brother.

Dean had never done anything particularly nasty to me. I only started living in the bunker this year so we’ve been housemates for a little over three months, and we started speaking two months into it so I’ve decided he’s heaps better than his brother at the moment.

“Angel, you with me?” I nod then remember he’s looking at the road, though I’m sure he can see me.

“Yeah, Dee, with you?”

“Dee?”

“Nickname. Like ‘angel’.” He seems to accept it. I don’t though, so I ask the question that’s been on the top of my tongue since we’d spoken a month ago, “Why’d you call me that, by the way? Why ‘angel’?”

“‘Cause.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m letting him keep the answer that brief. Thankfully he keeps going, “You saved Sam. Saved him from himself too many times. Kinda like his guardian angel.”

Damn it. Even the one thing I thought was mine, totally and utterly related to me, had something to do with my boyfriend.

“— and, sweetheart, you saved me too.” That catches my attention and just as I’m about to ask, he parks in front of the mall’s double doors.

“Get inside, I’ll park Baby and come in.” I zip my mouth, though it takes everything in me,

I get out of the car and into the market quietly. That’s how me and Dean finish our shopping. That’s also how we get into the house (though not without our little squabble of “I’m a hunter Dean, I can handle a few bags!” “You’re also cooking enough as is, stop being stubborn and get inside. I’ll bring the bags.”)

I told him he should go check on his brother while I make the pigeon, that takes much less time than the mahshy. Dean doesn’t come back, but an hour later everything is ready to serve so I text him to get Sammy and come down.

I may or may have not brought a frozen pizza at the market and put it in the oven incase they don’t enjoy the meal— it just makes me feel more at ease. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, not even when me and Sam had sex the first time. Or when I said yes to our first date. Or when I came to America alone.

But here I am, panicking out of my boots because Sam and Dean Winchester are gonna taste Egyptian food by my hand for the first time. “Angel, you’re shaking,” I look at Sam first and he’s smiling at me but it’s clear he’s not happy. I’m not sure about which part.

It’s already close to ten and I left our room in a hurry at six so I can only think of the contemplation he’d done. About me and us and our sex life and everything.

“Want any help, honey?” I let a smile spread over my face as I nod once at Sam. Yeah, okay, maybe I’m overreacting.

He goes to grab a plate but I shake my head and point to the ten inch tray we have for when we’re serving guests. He furrows his eye brows but does at told and I tell him to put it on the counter where we’re eating. He does so and I grab the pot of mahshy then flip it upside down on the tray. Both men seem to jump at my sudden movement but quickly relax when they see it was not an accident and that I have it under control.

When I flip the pot, we all stare at the excessive smoke from the dinner and I smile. I almost want to snap a picture and send it to my mother. She’d be proud. If we still talked.

I shake the thought out of my head and we decorate with some parsley then salt. Me and Sam grab more plates and I serve the fried pigeon and traditional salad.

“Woah, Angel. This looks fuckin’ incredible.”

“Yeah, what is that?” Sam agrees and I serve some on both their plates (though my mother would scold me for that one ‘we always eat from the pot’ but I don’t think they’re ready for that much culture yet).

“Oh, uh,” I see both men’s focus on me and the food they’re trying, “Mahshy is just cabbage with rice, I guess. Broth too, but I used mostly water since y’all don’t have that here— but it should be just as good.”

Dean’s the first to stop blowing on his food like a fucking girl and actually put the finger into his mouth. He chews and chews and then—

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” My heart stops, “This is… oh my god.” He starts shoving more onto his fork from the top of the steaming pile so it’s the least hot.

“Really? You’re not fucking with me?” I ask, like a hopeful child on Christmas Eve, I bet.

“Angel, this is amazing.” I smile so wide I’m sure it could stretch to next Monday. I face Sam and he’s… he’s eating.

Sam is actually fucking eating my food. Not that he’s ever not eaten my food, but he asks about the ingredients first, frickin’ diet he’s on or something and tries it first, but no trying today. Sam goes right in.

“You said—” Dean says through a mouthful and it pulls a surprised laugh out of me so he swallow before resuming, “Said something ‘bout protein?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I start to give each of them a bird from the four on the table. It’s stuffed with a dried wheat mix I made. Honestly, I had to make literally everything on the table. America doesn’t provide the right spice mix, or sauce, or even wheat mix, for me have any help. And I wanted it to be perfect.

“What is that?” Sam asks a second after he’s cut his one open.

“Dried wheat mix.” And then I remember the fucking diet he was just telling me about— “Sammy, ‘m so sorry, I forgot about—”

It’s evident he doesn’t mind because he tried it with no hesitation then lets out soemthing between a growl and moan that I thought was reserved for the bedroom but was apperantly not off limits to my cooking too.

“This is absolutely fuckin’ delicious, sweetheart. How’d you… wow.” And I don’t think he’s actually asking anything, he’s just praising me.

I feel a blush on my cheek from both the extremely positive feedback and small praises both men have thrown my way. I quickly get up to get them beers from the fridge but both men groan so i quickly look back to them.

“Where’re you goin’? You didn’t even try the food.”

“Getting your beers.” I smile and run over to get them then back.

“What about you?” It’s no secret I don’t drink so I shrug and pour some of Sam’s pineapple juice/smoothie mix thing into my cup.

I touch around some of my food, but I’m not entirely sure I made enough for both men after seeing them eat like they are so I want to keep as much as I can for both of them. I don’t think they notice because they go in for seconds— then Dean for thirds and the pot is almost empty when they both decide they’re full and there’s only one pigeon left, the one on my plate.

“Y’all like?” They both look offended and I laugh, “I’m so glad you actually enjoyed it. Can’t believe you guys enjoy Egyptian food like this.”

“Yeah? You made it so damn well, too.” I can hear the satisfied tone my boyfriend gave and I smile. “Shit! We should’ve asked what you do before you eat. Tradition in Egypt and all that. We could’ve really made you feel at home.”

Dean doesn’t seem to care what Sam’s saying though because he’s leaning back in his chair, phone in one hand as he lazily drinks his beer.

“Actually, it’s after we eat.” Sam smiles, urging me to go on, “but it’s religious, not traditional. So I guess it is traditional but just not—”

“What is it?”

“Translated in English it’s; Praise be to the Lord for blessing us with the food we’re eating and for our drinking with no power or will required from us… I think. It’s usually in Arabic.”

Sam nudged Dean’s foot under the table and I let out a giggle as they both repeat why I said and then I kiss Sam’s cheek quickly before going to get cleaned up so I can come clean after. I am still a bit hungry, though, so I might go for some pizza tonight.

“Hey, baby.” I smile and Sam dips his side of the bed as he climbs in I move closer to him, nudging my head into his chest.

“Hi, Sammy.” He strokes my hair, long fingers making me moan as I put my phone down and melt into him. “Missed you.”

“‘Missed you so much more.” He kisses my head and i drift to sleep in his arm. Feeling safe for the first time in a very very long time.

it’s so fluffy and idk why but I’m Egyptian so kinda really wanted to write this but also is she liking Sam or dean???🤭 we never know

we might next chapter tho.

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imagines-all-day-everyday · 2 years

Text

A Hunting Trip (Part 4)

pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore

synopsis: a crash course in self defence - *yn* finally tells dean and sam what's been going on in mystic falls. dean takes it upon himself to make sure she can keep herself safe.

warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

notes: i love this chappy so much, am so happy to be back writing x

Series Masterlist

"Just this one here."

Dean followed *yn*'s index finger to guide the impala into the driveway.

*yn* still couldn't believe that John had given Dean his car.

"Oh great, here come the million and one questions." Dean grumbled.

The rumbling engine must have alerted Sam, because he was already hurrying down the porch steps towards them. The two hopped out of the impala just as Sam reached the car.

"Where the hell have you been?" He threw his hands up in the air before perching them on his hips. His gaze firm as he glanced between the two, much like a stern mother.

"Why don't you just calm down and hold your questions till we get inside detective." Dean responded. Definitely not the right thing to say.

"Calm down?" Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I thought something had happened, you weren't answering your cell and *yn* was being all cryptic on the phone."

"Well we're here now and in one piece." Dean gestured between him and *yn*. "Although slightly traumatised."

"I'm going to explain everything, come on." *yn* patted Sam's shoulder in apology before moving past the boys to scale the porch staircase.

Sam shot Dean one last unimpressed look which Dean pretended to not see as they followed after *yn*.

"So this is your place huh?" Dean asked her as she slid her key into the front door.

"Yep, home sweet home."

The house was unexpectedly sparse. A single couch and small television occupied the living room. There was no art or pictures on the walls. Dean could see a film of dust coating the small coffee table that stood at the entrance.

It was like no one lived here.

She poked her head out of the door, scanning the quiet suburban street once more. Dean turned to look at her at the sound of the soft click of the lock sliding into place.

"I really doubt that lock's going to do much good if one of your friends wants to get in."

"Vamps can't enter a home unless they're invited in by the owner." She shot back as she placed her keys on the entry table.

"Smart ass." She grumbled under her breath as she shrugged off her jacket.

"I don't need super vamp hearing to hear you, you know." Dean remarked as his eyes slid over every inch of the house.

"I'm sorry, did you just say vampires?"

"Oh you have so much to catch up on Sammy." Dean patted his shoulder as the brothers followed *yn* down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Take a seat, you guys want something to drink?" *yn* gestured to the dining table.

"We're fine thanks."

Sam's brows had started to do that twitchy thing they did when he was anxious.

Dean turned to look at his brother incredulously. "Speak for yourself." He turned to *yn*. "I'll take anything that even slightly resembles alcohol."

She nodded knowingly, "that I can definitely do."

Dean's eyes fell on the open fridge door as *yn* disappeared behind it.

For the first time since they'd stepped foot in this place, there was evidence that someone lived here. Photos stuck under tacky mystic fall magnets were strewn haphazardly over the door's surface. He could make out photos of her and Elena in cheer uniforms and a few others with people that he had recognised around town. One of her and Damon laughing was front and centre.

None of her dad, or him and Sam, or anyone from her childhood for that matter.

"Will this do?"

Dean quickly averted his gaze as *yn* popped her head around, two bottles of beer on show.

"That'll do perfectly." A grin appeared on her face as she shut the door with her foot and came over to sit with the pair at the table.

Dean thanked her with a nod as she slid the bottle over to him. Sam looked like he was about to combust as he watched the pair take a sip from their drinks.

The silence stretched on. For the first time a look of uneasiness crossed *yn*'s features as she placed the bottle down onto the oak.

"I don't really know where to start."

The admission seemed to soften Sam's urgency. As she sat in front of them and fiddled with her fingers, it was like they were suddenly back in a hotel room, waiting for their dads to finish a hunt. Like they were trying to pretend that they were normal, even for a few hours.

"The beginning seems like a good place." His words were gentle as he studied the girl in front of him.

She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite her.

"Take your time, we want to know everything." Dean was the one who spoke this time, and even he had taken himself by surprise at how calm he sounded.

What was more surprising was that *yn* didn't shoot back with a sarcastic remark or roll her eyes. Instead, a grateful look flashed across her features as she nodded.

"Ok."

So, the beginning was where she started. She told them everything, from the day that her dad died to when they'd shown up. About how it was a regular job and he'd been taken by a nasty spirit and the next thing she knew, she was being moved from home to home.

She told them about vampires and werewolves and witches and dopplegangers. About humanity switches and sunlight and stakes. She told them about the Founder's Council, about the Salvatores. She told them about Katherine and the tomb vampires. She told them about Klaus, about his obsession with making an army of hybrids. She told them about the original family and the coffins, about Stefan's fixation on getting revenge on Klaus.

She did decide to leave some details out, mainly about Damon's less... morally ok decisions and the people that her friends had killed along the way. But she did tell them about her friends, about her new family, about Alaric and Sheriff Forbes, about the bonds that they had all created during this time. About the fact that she was going to a real high school now, with real teachers and real prospects of college.

The whole time their eyes did not leave her. They nodded, smiled, grimaced (a lot) and asked questions occasionally. But there was not one moment where they were not one hundred percent focussed on her. And as she talked, *yn* realised just how desperate she was to tell someone outside her mystic falls circle about what was happening. Someone from her past. Someone who could understand and sympathise with just how messed up her life had been.

As she talked, it was like she could visualise the bonds of their relationship slowly begin to repair after so many years of disuse.

"And, I think that pretty much brings it up to today."

She could feel the brothers' eyes on her as she brought the bottle to her lips and finished the remnants of the liquor in one foul gulp.

"I uh-" She watched as Sam cleared his throat, his eyes darting to look at Dean before turning to her.

"I think I'll take that beer now."

A soft smile presented itself on her lips. The chair scraped against the floor. The sound bounced off the bare walls.

"It's a lot to process."

Dean watched as *yn* disappeared behind the fridge door once more.

"If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't have believed it." Dean's eyes never left the photos plastered in front of him as he spoke.

"So what, he literally just locked eyes with you and like... mind controlled you or some crap?"

"It's called compulsion, and yes that's what they do." *yn* corrected Sam as she made her way back to the table.

"Right sorry, he compelled you to just do whatever he wanted?"

"Pretty much yeah."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dean shrugged. "And if you ingest that herb you were taking about- varvin?" He continued.

"Vervain. And here." Sam raised a brow but still muttered a thank you as he took the beer and a bottle of water from her outstretched palm.

Upon closer inspection he noted the strange herb swirling around in the bottle, making the water slightly discoloured.

"It doesn't taste bad." *yn* commented when she noticed the sceptical look on his features.

"Bottoms up Sammy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder as Sam unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips.

"And this really works?" He asked once he'd taken a large gulp of the liquid.

"You don't have to ingest it. You can wear it in something like a necklace and that will protect you too." She raised her wrist to reveal a bracelet dangling from her wrist.

"Me personally, I like to do both because if they yank it off you, you're screwed. Best to cover all your bases. You can incorporate into all sorts of weapons too, the stuff's a nightmare for them."

Her eyes darted between the brothers and raised a brow when she noted the looks on their features.

"What?"

"Nothing it's just uh-" Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Dean out of his peripheral. "I'm a bit confused as to why you're telling us all of this stuff. Given a lot of your friends are..."

"Vampires? You can say it." *yn* mused as she twisted the cap off her second beer. "And yes, they are my friends. But so are you. And unfortunately most vampires aren't as nice. I want you guys to be protected."

"You might want to consider getting better friends if that's what you consider friendly." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Given I'm in a generous mood, I'll choose to ignore that." Her answer made the side of Dean's lips twitch up into a smirk.

"Lucky me."

The pair locked eyes as *yn* brought the glass to her lips. He was taunting her, dangling his words in front of her like bait on a hook. Begging her to take a bite.

Her instincts were screaming at her, the words literally falling off the edge of her tongue. But the knowledge that she had to convince them to leave town was what prevented them from falling off the precipice.

"So you guys going to tell me why John's left you to fend for yourselves or what?"

"Oh come on." She continued when she saw them exchange looks. "Given I've just trauma dumped on you guys I think it's only fair you both tell me what you've been up to."

"We'd been hunting together for a few years and then he went on a trip." Dean spoke after a few moments. "And he didn't come back."

Trust Dean to include all the important details.

"That was when Dean came to get me from Stanford and-"

"Woah wait Stanford, as in Stanford University?" *yn* cut him off, her eyes growing wide.

"Uh yeah, I was studying law there."

"Sam that's amazing oh my god." *yn* breathed out, a grin spreading across her lips as she studied him.

"Thanks, I guess." Sam ducked his head down as a smile spread across his lips, unable to hide himself as her excited energy seeped into him.

"Don't be so fucking modest you dork." She laughed, "we always knew you were the nerd of the group."

She didn't miss the way Dean's small smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he studied his brother.

"John must have been really proud."

She instantly knew that she had hit a nerve when Sam's smile faltered, anger flashing across his features briefly before he regained his composure.

"Something like that."

Tension pulsated through the room as Dean pursed his lips at Sam's words. *yn* could almost see the wall go up between them.

Jesus what had she missed while she was gone?

"Anyway." Sam cleared his throat. "We went looking for him, to the town we knew he was working a job."

"No dad but there was a job. Spirit, nasty bitch too." Dean remarked, shaking his head and taking a deep drink of his beer at the memory.

"Dean dropped me back home and when I got there-" Sam looked down, a lump in his throat as he felt a rush of heat, like those flames were still licking at him, burning him from the inside.

"Jess, Sam's girlfriend, she was uh- well- she died just like our mum did."

A pregnant pause filled the room. *yn* blinked rapidly as she tried to process the information.

"Like, the exact way-"

The boys nodded solemnly.

"Fuck." She exhaled as she studied Sam. She fought the urge to reach over and take his hand.

"Jesus Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks *yn*." A sad smile flitted across his features. He was unable to hide the anguish in his eyes. She knew he blamed himself for his girlfriends death. He was a Winchester, they were masters of self flagellation.

"Ever since then we've been trying to find dad."

"So what, he just took off without a word and you haven't heard from him since?" *yn* found it hard to believe that he would leave his sons without an explanation. Then again, it was John Winchester, he wasn't ever exactly going to win father of the year award.

"I've spoken to him, he gave me coordinates of another job." Dean answered her.

"That was it? No explanation of where he is?"

"That was it." No matter how good his poker face was, even Dean couldn't conceal the resentment on his face from her.

"We think he's got a lead on the thing that killed mum and that he doesn't want us involved." Sam explained.

"Right." *yn* nodded. "All the more reason for you to keep trying to find him then."

Dean's lips twitched, "trying to shake us already huh?"

"You are a pain in the ass..." She teased, "But it's not like that. I'd love for you to stay.. but you can't. It's not safe."

The mood visibly shifted. Dean's jaw tightened at her words, the veins in his hand protruding as he gripped the beer bottle. She could feel him shutting down already. So instead, she leant forward in her chair and locked eyes with Sam, praying that she could at least get through to him.

"Look, it won't take Klaus long to find out you're hunters. He probably already knows. And you two could be the best hunters in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn't have a chance against an original vampire."

She shifted her imploring gaze to Dean, swallowing the lump in her throat when he refused to meet her gaze.

"I've already lost my dad, I'm not losing you two." She twisted her fingers around each other as she tried to keep her voice steady and calm.

"You need to go and find your dad."

"Well that's ironic." Dean chuckled humourlessly.

*yn* frowned at his words. "What are you talking about?"

"He led us right to you."

"He's been leaving us clues - coordinates." Sam clarified when he saw her confusion.

"In his journal and stuff. There was a whole section on Mystic Falls, about all the mysterious animal attacks and missing persons."

"You think he knew?" Her question illicited a shrug.

"He knew something supernatural was going on. Hard to say if he suspected vampires."

She nodded, her mind was now racing even faster than it already had been. Not only did she have to worry about Klaus, but she also had to worry about word getting out in the hunter community about what was going on here.

"You have his journal?"

Sam nodded. "I'll go get it."

All she could do now was see what sort of information John had collected, what was available for hunters to find that would lead them to the town.

Dean wordlessly fished out his keys and handed them to Sam. His green eyes locked with hers as he did so, and *yn* swore he could read her mind in that moment.

She pushed the chair back, letting it scrape loudly on the wood. She could feel Dean's eyes still on her as she disappeared from view to pull open the storage cupboard under the staircase that led up to the second floor.

The shoe box was in plain sight. She reached up on her tippy toes and plucked it from the top shelf. Stepping out from underneath the stairs allowed her to examine it in the natural light.

It was tattered from age, the nike logo faded and discoloured. A layer of dust encased it. It was heavier than she remembered.

She placed it down gently onto the dining room table. Dean looked at her quizzically as she pulled off the lid. Particles of dust launched at her face, almost as if they were angry for being disturbed after so long.

"I saw you looking at my photos on the fridge." She spoke as she pushed the box towards Dean.

"You think I don't have photos of my dad, of you."

She watched as Dean brought the box closer to himself and peered inside.

"I didn't want to have to explain who any of you were to people who asked."

It also pained her to look at them.

He pulled out a stack of old photographs as she sat down once more. Her eyes never left his face, trying to gage his reaction as he sifted through the grainy faces.

A genuine smile spread across his lips as he chuckled. His mood did a 180. "Holy hell, I forgot how dorky you and Sammy were."

He flipped the photo around and sure enough there was a photo of a young Sam Winchester and *yn* Kitson.*yn* felt her cheeks flush as she snatched the photo from his hand for a closer examination.

Sure enough, there stood her and Sam, cheesy grins on their faces, dressed in matching Star Wars costumes. Sam as Luke Skywalker and *yn* as Han Solo. It was clear that the costumes had been made with whatever was available, her dad's belt nearly dwarfed her entire midsection and the pants were rolled up to her ankles so she wouldn't trip.

Despite her horror, she couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Christ, letting me go out like that has got to be considered some form of child abuse."

Dean chuckled as she placed the photo back down onto the table. "I remember you literally begging me to borrow my vest for that stupid costume."

"You should have said no, you would have been doing me a favour."

"And miss out on the opportunity to reminisce on your dorkiness years later? Hell no."

She shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face as Dean continued to sift through the photos.

"Oh my god."

"What?!" She was up and out of her chair, rounding the table to get a look at the photo that had made Dean's eyes bulge.

"Oh my god." She echoed as she slid into the chair beside him and peered over his shoulder.

"That is criminal." She gasped.

"What's criminal?"

The two twisted around in their seats to see Sam standing in the doorway. They glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.

"What? Show me!" Sam demanded as he stormed forward.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam reached over and plucked the photo from his hand. "I wasn't finishing admiring that."

*yn* covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter as she watched Sam study the picture.

"Oh my god." His face grimaced in disgust. "Burn this please."

"No, you look cute!" She protested.

"Cute is not the word I would use." Sam grumbled as he came to sit opposite them.

"Yeah sorry *yn*, gotta agree with Sammy on this one." Dean grinned as he reached over and grabbed it back from Sam.

"Dorky, loser, nerd, comes to mind though."

*yn* couldn't stifle her laughter any further as she looked at the photo once more.

It was a probably 10 year old Sam Winchester, his fringe even thicker and curlier then it was now, his two front teeth missing as he grinned wildly. He was holding some sort of science project in his small hands.

"Not much has changed in the dorky department."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "What like you wouldn't have some embarrassing pictures in here?"

"Me? Pfft please, I never went through an awkward phase."

This time it was *yn*'s turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah right."

"I was too busy with all the cheerleaders to go through one."

Spurred on by his words, she leant forward and flicked through the photos. A very young Dean Winchester, hair plastered up into an obnoxious quiff and gleaming with hair gel, wearing a leather jacket far too big for him, was beaming back at her. Her lips curled into a devilish grin as she plucked the photo from obscurity.

"You may not have gone through a dorky phase Winchester, but you definitely went through one just as embarrassing." She held it up triumphantly, dodging Dean's grasp as she held it out for Sam to take.

Sam let out a bark of triumphant laughter as he studied the photo, clutching his chest as he threw his head back in a dramatic fashion.

"Oh c'mon, I'm sure it's not even bad."

"Hm, I'd call using what looks like a whole tub of hair gel to style your hair pretty bad."

*yn* snickered at Sam's words.

"Give me that." Dean grumbled, snatching the photo from Sam's hand.

"Dude this is not even that bad." He protested, although *yn* didn't miss the way the apples of his cheeks turned a slight pink.

"Wasn't this his James Dean phase?" *yn* queried. Sam let out a howl of laughter.

"Oh my god how could I forget about the James Dean phase." Sam could barely get his words out as he laughed. "He'd pretend that lollypop sticks were cigarettes."

Dean's cheeks turned pinker. She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost being the key word.

"And remember that little walk he'd do."

"Hey, the man's a legend alright." Dean protested as they both burst into a fit of giggles.

"He's the definition of cool. Style. Class."

*yn*'s brows raised at Dean's words, biting her lip to stop the giggles escaping as he glared at her.

"I still think it's embarrassing." Sam remarked.

The brothers continued to bicker as *yn* resumed flicking through the photos. Her fingers stilled when her dad's smiling face suddenly stared back at her.

She was wrapped in his burly arms, her pudgy fingers clasping his neck. Pink bow in her wispy hair. A toothless smile and bright eyes aimed at him. She would have been no more than 2.

Grief hit her like an unexpected tidal wave.

She blinked as she felt hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The pad of her pointer finger brushed over his sun worn features. The werewolf inflicted scar on his left temple.

Dean's eyes involuntarily darted to her. He went to turn his attention back to Sam when he noted the tightness of her features. The veins in her hand were revealed from her grip on the photo. He recognised the emotion on her face instantly. One that he was all too familiar with.

"So where's your aunt?"

Her eyes met his, widened from the surprise of being snapped out of their focus. They softened almost instantly, and for a moment there was a look of gratefulness on her face. Like she understood what he had done. In a blink her face morphed into one of unreadability. It happened so quickly Dean almost doubted he'd even seen it at all.

"My aunt?"

Dean frowned at her question. "The one you said you lived with? Is she at work or something?"

"Oh. Right."

Her eyes darted between the two brothers. She may be good at hiding her emotions, but Dean was better at seeing through it.

"*yn*."

"She uh, she's... well, she's dead."

"Dead?" Dean balked. "What do you mean dead?"

"Like... the tomb vampires got out and she died of an 'animal attack' sort of dead." Guilt was written all over her features as she spoke.

Two bewildered expressions stared back at her.

"It's ok.. really! It wasn't that sad, it was a while ago and to be honest she was kind of the worst so-"

"I'm not worried about you being sad, I'm worried about who the hell has been looking after you all this time."

Annoyance flashed across her features, "I don't need anyone to look after me."

"Who lives here?"

"Me."

"I mean, who else lives here?"

"No one."

"No one? So you live here all by yourself?"

"Yes, that's what I meant when I said I live here."

Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered glances.

"I'm at Elena's most of the time, I pretty much live with her."

Now it all made sense. The dust. The lack of furniture. Why it felt like no one really lived here. Because no one did.

"So you don't have a guardian? Any sort of parental figure?"

*yn* bristled at his questions. She was starting to become quite irritated.

"Ric is my guardian technically, Elena and Jeremy's too."

"Ric? As in the former vampire hunter we saw drinking with your vampire boyfriend last night? Yeah, sounds like a great role model."

"Dean." Sam warned.

"What? I'm merely stating the facts."

"I thought we were passed the whole judging, making assumptions, just being an asshole in general thing."

She held his gaze. Her eyes glowering with annoyance. She radiated stubbornness. It made Dean falter.

"I'm only asking because I care about you."

Her resolve wavered, a crack in her mask appeared that allowed Dean a glimpse. He saw a flicker of sadness.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

The shrill voice of Taylor Swift rung out through the room, preventing Dean from a response. She really had to change that ringtone.

*yn* avoided Dean's intense gaze as she fished her phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the caller ID.

"Excuse me." Was all she muttered before pushing out of her chair.

She didn't answer until she was upstairs with the door shut. "What do you want?"

"Well hello to you too." She could hear Damon's amused smirk through the phone.

"This better be good, you're interrupting precious bonding time." She grumbled as she flopped onto her bed.

"Things going that well with dumb and dumber huh?"

She huffed at his question. "All I'm going to say is I hope it went better for you with Ric's doctor friend than it is for me right now."

"Yeah funny you mention that, I'm just leaving his flat now."

She frowned, "Why?"

"To check if there was a bunny on the stove." As he spoke she picked up her childhood toy and sat it onto her chest. Buffy the plush pink horse stared back at her unblinkingly.

"That bad huh?"

"She vervained me when I accused her of killing her ex boyfriend, then the little psycho blood jacked me."

"She what?" *yn* sat upright. Buffy tumbled down the side of the bed. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, just a little miffed. Although, somewhat pleased I got to say 'I told you so' to Ric. Just as I predicted. Diagnosed psycho case."

"Great, just what we need."

"Yep, add it to our list of never ending problems." Damon drawled, "I was actually calling to see how it was going on your end with your second favourite set of brothers."

In that moment a memory surfaced. She snatched it before it could disappear once more. As he spoke she swapped the phone to her other ear and hastily leant over to pull open her bedside table draw.

"I think I'm making progress." She rifled through the stacks of paper and trinkets. She froze as her fingers found its target.

"Well that's something."

She pulled it out, hidden deep in the drawers depths. She plucked it out like a prize. A treasure amongst trash.

"Keep me updated, yeah?" She could faintly hear Damon's question on the end of the line.

"Will do." *yn* heard herself mumble as she twisted back onto her back and stared up at the photo.

"I gotta go. Talk to you later." And with that she snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed beside her.

She held the paper up in her hand, stretching it above her head so the ceiling framed it. A photograph. A special one, kept apart from the others in the box in the room below her.

Luke Kitson, *yn* Kitson, Sam, Dean and John Winchester all beam back at her. The only photo of the five of them together. A perfectly dysfunctional family.

She smiled softly, letting the pads of her fingers glide over the young faces. Frozen permanently in time. None of them held a clue as to their fates. Where they would be in 8 years time. She wished she could somehow transport herself into that photograph and stay there forever.

Her anger towards Dean fizzled. Like it always did. She traced his grainy features with her fingernail.

She knew then that she had to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Even if it meant biting her tongue and quelling her anger. If it meant stretching the truth so they felt safe enough to leave her here and go on their way.

She let out a shaky breath as she pressed the photo into her chest, clutching it like she still did with Buffy when she couldn't sleep.

"I promise I'll keep them safe dad."

Sam turned to look at Dean once they heard a door shut above them.

"Oh don't give me that look Sammy."

"What look?"

"The little disappointed puppy look you've managed to master."

"You could have been a bit nicer."

"Oh come on!" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "The girl's living in a house all by herself in a town full of vamps, you expect me to be happy about this crap?"

"No, and I'm not happy about it either, but acting like this isn't exactly going to help things."

Dean muttered under his breath, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs so he could run his hands over his stubble.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?"

There was a static pause as Sam studied him before answering. "I think we should do what she says."

"You want us to leave?" Dean blinked dumbfounded.

"Look, if what she says is true, we stand no chance defeating these.. original vampires or whatever they're called. It'd be a suicide mission." Sam answered him, lowering his voice as he spoke.

"If we find dad we can get his help to come back and stop this."

Dean shook his head. "So what, we're supposed to just leave her here? With these-" He cut himself off, his eyes darting to the stairs before looking back at Sam. "These monsters?"

"I don't think we have a choice Dean."

"She could come with us."

"And what? Sit in a hotel room while we go work jobs? C'mon. You know that would never happen. It's pretty clear she wants to stay."

Dean frowned, rubbing his stubble stressfully as he racked his brain for another solution. There was a part of him that wanted to grab her and throw her in the back of the impala and drive away with her. But he knew he could never do that. He could never take away her freedom, her choice. Besides, she'd probably scratch his eyes out if he even tried.

"The longer we stay here the harder it's going to be to find dad."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Sam through his long lashes. "Is this about finding dad to help *yn*, or to get to him before he kills whatever killed mum and Jess?"

Sam flinched at Jess' name. His lips thinned into a firm line.

"We have a chance to kill the son of a bitch Dean. I'm not losing that. Not for anyone."

There was his answer. Dean sat up in his chair and leant back, his forehead creased as he studied his brother.

This wasn't the Sammy that he knew. The doe eyed, puppy like Sam Winchester who wanted to help everyone and anyone. No, this was a Sam Winchester who had a hard shell casing beginning to form around him. One that was driven by revenge and bitterness. One that was much too like John and Dean Winchester.

But despite all that, Dean knew his brother was right. They had no choice. If they stayed, they might all end up dead. At least this gave them time to reconvene and plan.

"Fine." Dean relented. "We go find dad, kill the son of a bitch, but then we are getting our asses back here and getting *yn* out."

"Deal." Sam nodded.

"But we ain't leaving until I give her at least some basic training. Who knows when she even last held a damn shotgun."

The staircase creaked before Sam could reply. The two sat up, trying to look as natural as possible as *yn* wondered back into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, it was Elena." She spoke, waving her phone in the air before sliding it into her pocket. She seemed to return to the room in a much better mood than when she had left it.

"Everything ok?" Sam asked her, a smile on his features.

*yn* glanced at him before looking over at Dean. A strangely friendly smile was also on his lips.

"Yeah, just friend drama." She answered as she slid into her chair.

Each party seemed to be in a much friendlier mood, but the other could not quite work out why.

Her eyes landed on a photo amongst the pile, a genuine grin spread across her lips as she pulled it towards her.

Bobby Singer stared back at her, a rare smile on his face. A five year old *yn* Kitson sat beaming on his lap.

"Do you guys still see Bobby?"

Fondness washed over her at the memory of the grumpy older man. He'd always had a soft spot for her, and her for him.

"Yeah of course." Dean nodded.

"Hey, when this business is done with our dad why don't we swing through here and pick you up and we can all take a road trip to see him?"

*yn* looked up from the photo in surprise. Her eyes flickered to Sam who was nodding encouragingly.

"That sounds like a great idea." He agreed.

She glanced between them, trying to decipher what they were trying to say. "Does this mean you're leaving?"

"Yeah, well we talked about it and we think you're right. It's probably safer for everyone if we go." Sam was the one to answer her.

Her lips parted in surprise. Dean could tell that she had not thought it would be that easy. She turned to look at him and he could tell that she was reading him, trying to find the hidden motive behind their unexpected decision.

He did his best to keep smiling. If she could read him, she did not let on, a smile instead spreading across her lips. One that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"There is just one condition though." Dean finally spoke up.

"What's that?"

"Self defence training." *yn*'s brows shot up to her hairline.

"Self defence training?" She echoed. An amused smirk spread across her lips when he nodded.

"What? Don't think I can handle myself Winchester?"

"Just want to make sure you haven't gotten rusty that's all." He shrugged. There was a glimmer in his eye as they studied each other.

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"

A twig snapped underneath Dean's boot. A raven cawed in the distance.

"You sure no one's around?"

The two brothers stepped into the clearing that *yn* had directed them towards.

"Yeah, Ric, Elena and I come here all the time to train." *yn* answered from behind them. A loud thump made them swivel around.

"What the hell is that?"

The two brothers looked down at the duffle bag *yn* dumped down at their feet.

"Things I defend myself with."

They watched as she bent down. The teeth of the zipper parting echoed through the woods, bouncing off the old trees.

"What are we looking at right now?" Dean queried, his brows raised as he watched her pull out a shot gun.

"Well this one is loaded with wooden bullets, excruciating and a pain in the ass to dig out." She chucked it onto the grass.

"This one shoots mini daggers." Another thud.

"This is a vervain grenade."

Thud.

"Oh and this crossbow is pretty handy too."

Thud.

"And I think that's all I've got at the moment, Ric has some more back home."

She glanced up expectantly when she got no response. Their jaws were slack as they stared at the weapons laid out in front of them.

"You made these?" It was Sam who finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, I mean Ric thought of most of 'em but I helped... fine tune the final products I guess you could say." She picked up the shotgun, popping it open with ease and glanced down into the chamber.

Sam raised a brow and looked over at Dean. He didn't need to verbalise his thoughts. It was written all over his face. "What was that about her not being able to hold a shotgun?"

Dean shot him a glare before clearing his throat, "well that's all very impressive but sometimes we don't get the opportunity to grab weapons."

*yn* eyed him sceptically as he took a few steps back to move into the centre of the clearing.

"What about your hand to hand?"

She tried to hide her smirk as she placed the shot gun on the ground. She rose to her feet and dusted her hands off on her jean shorts.

He didn't need to know that Ric had been training her and Elena for months. Or that she never stopped training, even after her dad died.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and dumped it onto the ground, leaving him in a grey t-shirt. It was loose, except for around his biceps that bulged as he tensed. Her eyes darted to his hands, watching them curl into fists. His rings gleamed back at her.

She swallowed and forced herself to move her eyes back to his face. The last thing Dean Winchester needed to see was her checking him out.

She stepped forward so she was only a few metres from him.

"You know vampires have super speed and strength right? I don't think this sort of training is going to be much use."

"Just humour me." He answered her, a small smirk twisting up onto his lips. There was that gleam in his eye again. Challenging her. Provoking her.

"I wanna see what you're made of Kit."

Kit.

It felt like eons since someone had called her that.

"Hurry up Kit!"

"Put your back into it Kit."

"That's my little Kit."

"I love you Kit."

The nickname unlocked so many memories from her past. It didn't even feel like the nickname belonged to her. Like it was someone she'd known in her past life.

It felt so foreign to her ears that her brain took a moment to process it.

"C'mon Kit, what are you waiting for?"

Dean's voice brought her back down to earth. This time, the nickname nestled into her ear and made itself home again. It sparked something in her. A determined look settled onto her features.

Dean's eyes sparked when he saw her face morph. He held back his grin as the pair began to circle each other. They danced around each other, both of them holding their breath to see who would make the first move.

The snap of a twig was all it took. *yn*'s eyes must have shifted for no more than a few seconds. But it was all the time Dean needed to lunge forward and take her by surprise.

She stepped back and moved to curl her knuckles into a fist but he was already on her. Calloused hands gripped her forearms and twisted her around. She grunted as a knee pressed into the backs of her legs causing them to involuntarily buckle.

He used his bodyweight to push her down onto her stomach, twisting her arms and pinning them to her back in one fluid movement. She squirmed under his firm grip but she knew it was pointless. She was trapped, like a fish in a net. A fly in a spiders web.

She let out a grunt of frustration as she tried once more to writhe out of his strong grip. She could almost feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a rush of warm air puffed onto the shell of her ear.

"Just as I thought, rusty." His voice was deep and amused. She gritted her teeth as he released her from his grip, chuckling to himself as he watched her get up onto her feet. Her breath was slightly ragged as she locked eyes with him, her jaw clenched.

Her ringtone blared through the woods. She tore her eyes from Dean and hurried to her bag. Damon's name illuminated the Caller ID. Her finger hovered over the accept button. She stole a glance at Dean who was already studying her intently. She flipped her phone shut.

"You don't need to get that?"

"Not important." She answered as she flicked it to silent and shoved it into the depths of her bag.

She rose to her full height and marched back into the centre of the clearing.

"Again."

After an hour, her body was aching and bruised. It was screaming at her to give up. And she might have done, if Dean hadn't just lunged at her for what must have been the 12th time and finally left his stomach exposed.

She stepped forward and punched him square between his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. She jumped on the opportunity instantly, kicking his feet out from underneath him. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, she pushed him to the ground and straddled his torso. A wild grin spread across her lips as she pinned his arms above his head.

Victory was hers. Finally. There was a triumphant look in her eye as his body stilled underneath hers, admitting defeat.

A smirk appeared on his lips as his hands settled on her thighs. His chuckle sounded like gravel. He winced as she intentionally pushed down onto the area of his stomach where a bruise was already starting to form.

"Well played Kit."

The praise affected her more than it should have.

She felt her cheeks flush as the pair locked eyes. The pad of Dean's thumb brushed against her skin. It left goosebumps in its wake.

"I'm spent." Sam groaned from behind them.

She finally broke eye contact, ducking her head down as Dean's hands flew from her thighs.

"Can we have a break now?" She asked as she rolled off him and glanced over at Sam.

"Please." Sam agreed as he collapsed against a tree. He seemed oblivious to the interaction that had just occurred.

"Great." *yn* rose to her feet and began to stretch her aching limbs. She could hear Dean getting onto his feet behind her.

"These weapons really work?" Dean spoke after a few moments of silence stretched through the clearing.

He had her crossbow in his hand. "Yeah, they've been useful before."

"And this one shoots stakes?" He brought it up to rest on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that ones a personal favourite of Ric's." *yn* answered as he watched him settle on a tree as a target. One eye closed as his finger rested on the trigger. Then he pulled.

There was a whoosh as a blurry figure snaked past her. The stake never found its target. It was stopped by a hand. A gaudy ring waved back at her. As did a smirking Damon.

"Uh oh, vampire not staked."

She blinked and he was gone. Firm hands gripped her shoulders before the stake had even hit the ground. A hard body pressed against her.

The band of the gaudy ring that was staring back at her only seconds ago was now pressing into her throat. Her face was guided to the side, exposing her skin. Fangs lightly scraped the side of her neck.

"Pretty girl gets killed instead." He murmured, his lips only millimetres from her skin. His fangs brushed her as he spoke.

Her face flushed and her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was so not the reaction she should be having to this encounter. She was certain Damon could hear the way her pulse was pounding. All she could do was hope that he assumed it was out of fear.

"You guys gotta work on your hunting skills."

*yn* knew how it looked, how Damon intended for it to look in front of Dean and Sam. But what they didn't see was how gently he had shifted her neck. How he had just brushed his thumb along the curve of her skull, almost in a way to communicate that he wasn't going to hurt her.

Dean's face had hardened as he aimed the crossbow at Damon.

"Alright ease up cowboy." Damon raised his hands in mock surrender but didn't make an attempt to move from behind *yn*. His makeshift shield.

"I'm just trying to make this training exercise as realistic as possible."

"Dean it's ok." *yn* reassured him. "This is just Damon's sick idea of a joke." She sneered.

Dean's eyes darted between Damon and *yn* for a few moments before he reluctantly lowered the crossbow. She could see Damon's smirk widen.

"You think my humour is sick? Why thank you."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him off her.

"You're an idiot."

He grinned at her as his fangs slid back into his gums and the veins under his eyes shrunk.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him before he could open his mouth again to spew out another taunt.

"You weren't answering your cell."

It was an accusation, not an explanation.

"I turned it off." His eyes narrowed at her answer.

"I need to talk to you." He glanced over at Dean and Sam, "in private." She rolled her eyes once more but nodded.

"And remember boys, special vamp hearing if you wanted to have a little gossip session about me while I'm gone." He turned and shot them an obnoxious wink.

She didn't wait for a response from Sam or Dean before she grabbed Damon's arm and dragged him off into the woods.

"Oh come on *yn*, why so grumpy." He teased. She gritted her teeth and finally came to a stop once they were out of ear shot of the boys.

"You rocking up with your fangs out isn't exactly going to help me convince them that they should leave me here, is it?"

This time it was Damon's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright I'm sorry, I was just having a little fun."

She sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "How's it going with them anyway?"

"Good actually, they've agreed to leave town."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Huh." Damon nodded, his lips pursed, "probably good timing actually."

"And why's that?"

"Well... I sort of had a run in with Klaus."

"What? What happened?" All annoyance directed towards Damon flew out the window.

"He got the coffins back."

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. "So we're all screwed then?"

"Well... I did manage to hide one before he got there."

She blinked in disbelief. "The locked one?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' as he nodded. "Let's just say he wasn't too pleased with me."

"So we still have leverage." She breathed out, "that's good. Although he's probably going to be twice as murderous now."

"Oh, I think he's going to have bigger things to worry about for a while."

Her eyes narrowed at his words, "and why's that?"

A smirk twisted up onto Damon's lips as he leant into his jacket pocket. She took a step back, her eyes widening at the object.

A white ash dagger stared back at her.

"Is that...?"

"You bet it is."

"Damon what the hell did you do?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was time for a brotherly reunion."

"So you're telling me we've now got two original vampires running around Mystic Falls?"

"Elijah hates Klaus. Wants him dead."

"We thought that the last time and look what happened."

Damon huffed. "This is different, Klaus broke his promise and stuffed him into a wooden box. The dudes pissed. And if Elijah's pissed, it means we have a chance to get him to work with us to finally put a stop to Klaus's little tirade."

*yn* sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You better be right about this."

"When am I ever wrong."

She shook her head, a ghost of a smile spreading across her lips as she looked away. Her eyes involuntarily dragged back into the direction of Sam and Dean.

"You want to get back to your training Kit?"

The nickname falling from his lips made her jerk her head back at him.

"That is what they call you, isn't it?"

"Were you spying on me?" She hissed.

"I had to find you from the sound of your voices. I didn't have a choice but to listen in." He shrugged innocently. If looks could kill, he'd be very much dead right now.

"I did arrive in time to see you tackle hero hair 2.0 to the ground."

"Are you done?"

"It was kind of hot."

She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Alright now I'm done." He grinned. "I'll leave you to it, gotta go tell the baby brother my genius plan."

She watched him take a few steps before he suddenly turned back around to face her. All traces of humour had left his face. She jutted her chin up to look at him as he marched towards her.

"Don't put your phone on silent again." A breath caught in her throat as he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze had softened as he studied every inch of her face.

"I hate worrying that something's happened to you."

In a blink he was gone.

"Fuck." She murmured under her breath.

*yn* spent the time it took reaching the clearing to collect herself and push thoughts of Damon to the back of her mind. By the time she reached the boys, she was the perfect picture of calm and normalcy.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "friend drama."

Dean nodded. She knew that he didn't believe her.

"So-" She cleared her throat. "Do you guys want to keep training?"

"It's getting kind of late actually, we should probably get going soon." Sam answered her.

She felt her heart plummet to the ground. She knew that they had to go, but she wasn't ready for it. They'd just got here. They were just starting to reconnect, to mend those bonds that had eroded over the years.

Even though she was practically limping from their training session, it had been some of the most fun she'd had in a long time. Giggling as Sam and Dean bickered, or trying to contain her laughter when she'd accidentally kneed Sam in the groin. It felt so natural. So familial. Almost like her dad was about to pop out and call them in for dinner like he used to all those years ago.

Surely it wouldn't hurt if they stayed just a little while longer. Like Damon had said, Klaus was distracted.

"Why don't you guys stay the night?" She suggested, glancing between them hopefully.

"We could grab some dinner and then you can head out in the morning."

The boys exchanged dubious glances.

"C'mon you can sleep at mine, I'm sure you must be sick of motel beds."

That seemed to be what tipped them over the edge.

"Alright that sounds good, thank you." Dean spoke, shooting her a tight lipped smile.

A grin spread across her lips, "great! Let's get something from the grill. I think it's burger deal night." She spoke enthusiastically as she picked up her duffel bag.

"Ooh! I call shotgun!" And with that she hurried off towards the impala, leaving the boys trailing after her.

"We're not playing any Taylor Swift." Dean called out to her as she neared the car.

She rolled her eyes, "I know you don't actually hate her."

"Oh really? And how do you know that?"

The car lock clicked.

"Because no one actually hates Taylor Swift. It's impossible."

Dean muttered something under his breath as the three of them piled into the impala. Sam's knees were practically up to his face as he forced himself into the back. Dean slid the key into the ignition.

"Do you still have that ACDC tape your dad used to play all the time?"

Dean's fingers froze in place. He turned to look at her.

"You still listen to ACDC?"

"Yeah. Of course I do. Why do you think I chose the name Young?"

Dean thought he might pass out as realisation hit him. "Like as in Angus Young...."

"Yeah..." She looked at him puzzled. "Do you guys still not use those sort of fake names?" She glanced over her shoulder at Sam.

"Yeah we do it's just..." Dean trailed off, bringing her attention back to him.

"Anyway-" He cleared his throat, "I have it, it's already in."

His answer made her smile grow wider. "Well what are you waiting for Winchester?"

He shook his head in disbelief before twisting the key in the ignition, letting the impala rumble to life. He pressed a button and the beginning of Back in Black started to blare through the speakers.

Sam internally groaned.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." She leant back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the dash as Dean pulled out onto the road.

Sam's brow raised when Dean didn't say a word. If that had been him, he'd have been told to get out and walk.

Dean grinned and began to tap his fingers along the leather of the wheel, his head bobbing in time.

"Back in black, I hit the sack - come on Winchester!" She exclaimed when she didn't hear Dean's voice, hitting his chest playfully.

Sam blinked in disbelief as Dean began to join in, the pair of them shouting at the top of their lungs. Dean cranked the music louder.

"Oh my god." Sam mumbled to himself.

"There's two of them."

I really love this part - don't worry though there's gonna be soooo much drama coming up hehehe <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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kayleighwinchester · 7 days

Text

So, I've really been debating how I want to post my fics, if I wanted to start posting them at all. Kayleigh's been my brain-child for 12 years now - since I was 14! - and the idea of putting her out there is much scarier to me as an adult than it was as a high-schooler. Much love to @zepskies for encouraging me to post some of the less episode-centric bits as one-shots; I don't think anything would ever end up posted otherwise! (And a big shout out to the Pond for the prompts that finally got me to write something substantial again!)

This is the first of (hopefully) many smaller snippets. I'm hoping to get more of the important bits posted soon, and those will have a lot more context for what you see in these! So, here we go: ya'll's first glimpse into my favorite dumpster-fire of a ship! These will be tagged by season.

Dean’s got a stupid grin on his face a mile wide as the familiar chords began to play over the Impala’s speakers - it’s blatantly clear exactly how hard he’s trying not to look at Kayleigh’s face as Night Moves begins to play - and, more importantly, as he leans over to turn the volume dial higher, higher, higher still. Kayleigh leans forward from the backseat, arms crossing over the back of the front seat, her chin against the vinyl beside Sam’s head. “Is it still murder if I give him a heads up?” She stage-whispers to the younger Winchester brother, her own eyes cutting to Dean as she speaks. His grin only widens, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“That’s called a threat, Kay.” Sam informs her, hardly glancing up from his book, but there’s a grin beginning to tug at his lips, too - he glances briefly to Kayleigh, and then to Dean, as Kayleigh hisses out a soft, playfully disappointed ‘damn’.

“Oh, come on, Leigh, you know you love this song.” Dean taunts, leaning over just slightly to be that little bit closer to her, their heads nearly touching - his eyes remain on the road, but flit to hers now and again. He has to speak up a bit to be heard over the radio, but even so, Sam’s snort of amusement is still audible as the younger of the three shifts to lean against the door, putting a bit of space between himself and the elder two. Even after just over a decade of watching their on-again-off-again romance, it felt just a little like intruding on something private, something secret; but maybe that was just that residual instinct - that unspoken rule from high school to keep things under John Winchester’s radar.

“Do I?” Kayleigh asks sarcastically, but she can’t pretend to be annoyed long - she turns her head just slightly to let her lips press briefly to Dean’s cheek. He scoffs, but that grin stays plastered onto his face like it was painted there, even as his face starts to go faintly red.

“Yeah! You know every word.” He reminds her, finally laying his arm across the back of the seat in front of her.

“Yeah. Kind’a like I know half the shit that’s gonna come flyin’ outt’a your mouth, Winchester. ‘S called Stockholm Syndrome, or somethin’ like that.” She comments dryly, but she can’t help the grin that’s beginning to curl onto her own lips.

“Gee, thanks, Sweetheart.” Dean snorts out as Sam begins to laugh. “Really feelin’ the love there. Really.” He rolls his eyes as Kayleigh shifts to sit more directly behind him, her arms draping lazily over his shoulders and her chin resting on his arm. He can’t keep the grin off of his face for long, however, as Kayleigh begins quietly humming along under her breath. Absently, he reaches up, fingers playing with the end of her ponytail, twisting the curls between his fingers, other hand on the wheel. “‘Sides, murder’s not on the agenda for today.”

“It’s never supposed to be on the agenda, Dean,” Sam reminds him dryly, hardly glancing up from his book - if he could press himself any further against the door, any further away from them, Kayleigh’s sure he would. “‘S on mine,” She offers cheerfully, “just not ‘til tomorrow. We’re gettin’ to the Roadhouse tomorrow, right?”

Sam's grin widens as Dean groans quietly, hand leaving Kayleigh's hair to scrub over his face.

#my writing #supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester x oc #I am going to vibrate out of my fucking skin #this is terrifying how do yall just POST YOUR FANFICS #season 5

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babeydollx · 9 months

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Bad Girls Don't Get To Cum

❀ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, daddy kink, punishment, edging, p in v, unprotected sex

❀ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

❀ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: In which Dean punishes Y/N by edging her.

❀ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This is my first fic trying out this new kind of layout. I may add gifs or photos/collages but for now they may be blank. I may still go back and edit the rest of them but idk yet seems like a lot of work lmao.

You whimpered and whined as Dean flipped you over onto your stomach before thrusting into your abused pussy once again. He had been edging you for hours. You knew that by doing what you did that you would end up getting some type of punishment, you knew you were suppose to obey the rules but, you'd rather be a brat instead.

"I- fuck- please, Dean!" You moaned out as his cock thrusted into you hard and faster, the tip hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you. "Dean? You know that's not my name, princess." Dean said with a smirk. You whined as he continued to fuck into your abused hole. "Come on, say it." Dean growled. "Fuck! Please, daddy!" You moaned out loudly.

"Atta girl." He said with a devilish smirk as he smacked your ass roughly. You kept begging and begging Dean to let you cum, your begs eventually becoming inaudible when you became a moaning mess for him. "You want daddy to let you cum, is that what you want, baby?" He asked with a smirk. You just nodded quickly. "No, no, baby.. you know we use our words." He said.

"Shit! Yes, I want daddy to let me cum! Please let me cum, daddy!" You moaned out loudly, almost yelling and screaming. "Well, tell me this, do you think naughty little sluts deserve to cum?" He asked with a growl as he smacked your ass hard once again, the skin already stinging from his first attack on your ass. "Please! I'll be a good girl for daddy, I promise! Please!" You begged him more.

"Who owns this pussy?" Dean asked. "You do, daddy!" You said as you moaned out loudly. "Who fucks you better than anyone else?" He asked. "Still you! O- only you!" You yelled. "Damn right." He said with a growl as he picked up the pace even more. "Come on, cum, cum for daddy." He said.

With that your eyes rolled back, your whole body was trembling as the coil inside of your snapped causing you to gush all over your boyfriend's cock. Dean continued to fuck your cunt hard and fast, the feeling of overstimulation setting in now. Your eyes began to water a little as your walls fluttered around his hard cock causing him to cum now, shooting his load deep inside of you causing his seeds to cover your gummy walls.

Dean slowly pulled his cock out of your cunt once you both came down from your orgasms. You laid there on the breath sticky, sweaty, and breathless. Dean laid down beside you and he was also catching his breath as well. "Did I go too hard?" He asked softly as he gently removed some hair out of your face that was sticking to your forehead. "No, I love it." You said with a grin as you leaned in and kissed him. "Mm.. I love you, Dean." You said with a warm smile. "I love you too, Y/N." He said with a grin.

Author's Note: tysm for reading! <3

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ih21506 · 1 day

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| Hidden Feelings Pt.5 |

GIF: Mine

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader (Platonic) Bobby Singer X Daughter!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): Age Gap (Dean: 26 Reader: 21), kissing, confession.

Summary: You’re Bobby Singer’s daughter, and after John died Sam and Dean come to stay with you.

——————————————————

When the two of you finally broke apart, Dean rested his forehead against yours. You both stood together in a comfortable silence, and neither of you wanted to break the temporary peace you were feeling at this moment.

One of Deans hands moved down to your waist, staying just above the waist band of your skirt, under your hoodie. The other stayed on your cheek as his thumb moved back and forth, gently rubbing the smooth skin of your cheek.

Your left hand was placed on the back of Dean’s neck, softly scratching soothing Dean’s anger, while your right rested on his chest.

“Dean…” You whispered, daring to break the silence, “What does this mean?”

You had to know, you had to be sure that this was what you hoped it was.

“I… I just had to once- and this…” Dean’s Pinky and ring finger moved down slightly over the waistband of your skirt, “God, sweetheart, you drive me crazy,”

You pulled your head back and looked up at Dean, before speaking again, “A good type of crazy?”

“The best type of crazy,” He said back and you smiled.

“I don’t want this to be a once,” You admitted and wrapped your right arm around Deans neck. His hand on your cheek moved to your lower back pulling you closer to him, and your lips connected again.

Moving together, you stepped backwards and Dean stepped forwards, not breaking apart, until you felt you back come in contact with the back of the impala.

Dean’s hands moved under your thighs, then suddenly he picked you up, as if you weigh nothing. He placed you on the car stepping between your legs as his left hand moved back to your waist and his right stayed on the side of your thigh, the tips of his fingers sliding under your skirt.

“Y/n!” You suddenly heard the voice of your dad yell through the junkyard.

Dean quickly moved away to the other end of the car, crouching down by the wheel, and you fixed yourself up before your dad came into view.

“Yes?” You said back.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Talkin’ to Dean…” You said and, out the corner of your eye, you saw Dean glance at you for a moment, “I needed a break from my collage work,”

“M’kay, well it’s cold out here, so go change,” He told you.

“Yeah, I agree, you should go change,” Dean spoke up and you shot a glare at him.

What you wanted to say next was completely different to what you actually said, “Whatever, I need to go to the store for food anyway,”

“After you change?” Your dad said with a raised brow.

“Yes, after I change, save the heart attack for another day,” Your dad rolled his eyes as he walked away and once he was out of view you jumped off the car.

After kissing Dean on the cheek, you went back inside to change because, as much as you hate to admit it, your dad was right it was colder today and you didn’t want your legs to eventually freeze off while you was at the store.

——————————————————

@kr804573 @jackles010378 @figurantedefilme @iloveyou2mia @onlyangel-444 @star-yawnznn @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @imaginationlover101 @arrowenchantress @qinnroki @arcannaa

#dean winchester #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #fluff #sam winchester

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artyandink · 4 months

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SPN MASTERLIST

𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Bartender!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

Karak Chaii-verse

Summary: The adventures of Dean and his Indian girlfriend. Written as an Indian POC!

None yet. Send a request to my ask box!

maine coon

Summary: Dean initially hated your small touches. He used to feel weird with them on his skin. But now he craves them. He craves the high of feeling like a human, and you’re the best hit he’s ever had.

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

No NSFW asks, I allude to smut and write making out but not all the way

2. Just drop in at my ask box and I’ll get back to you!

3. I don’t write pedophilia, age gaps, r@pe, incest, anything like that.

4. If I don’t get back to you with your request, drop a message :)

#spn masterlist #spn #supernatural #supernatural oc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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welldonebeca · 8 months

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Stupid Squeeze (2)

WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Semi-public sex. Dirty thoughts. Oral sex. Size difference. Size kink. Degrading kink. Praising kink. Unsafe sex. Breeding kink.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Baby was parked in the darkest spot behind the bar, nearly completely hidden.

If they managed to keep their little flower quiet, it would be easy to hide.

Sam glanced at her face, finding her wide-eyed and flustered.

"You can back away anytime, sweetheart," he assured her.

They would never force her into anything.

But she looked at him, shaking her head.

"I just... I've never done it in a car before," she confessed. "I never had the chance."

Dean chuckled, smirking to himself, and Sam let her go, so his brother could kiss her lips.

"Don't worry," he spoke softly. "We are very experienced."

That they were.

Finally, Lily nodded, and Dean smirked before picking her up, leaving Sam to be the one to unlock the door.

His brother lied her onto the seat, spreading her legs and placing himself right there.

Helen was gorgeous. Beautiful.

Her face was cherubic, her round cheeks nearly as attractive as her breasts.

She was full, at every little bit. Her hips, her chest, her cheeks...

Sam could see himself sinking his teeth onto her soft belly on his way to eating out her pussy very happily.

The moment Sam saw her, he'd gotten a hard-on. The curve of her hips, the way her fat ass looked in that tiny skirt.

He could have fucked her right there.

He was surprised when she pushed her fingers into Dean's hair, taking his mind off of his own thoughts.

"No," she whined. "No more teasing."

His brother lifted his hair, and though Sam couldn't see it, he could feel his confusion, and walked near them.

Lily sat up, pouting, growling.

"I believe I was promised some good fucking," she affirmed, at last.

Sam laughed, but she crossed her arms, pouting and he looked at Dean.

Well... she was right, wasn't she?

Dean chuckled, shaking his head and standing up.

"Alright," he stood up. "How do we do that?"

"The backseat can only fit one of us with her," Sam reminded him. "We'll have to take turns."

His brother glanced at him.

"Alright, there," he nodded. "Let me just-"

What now?

"Hey!" Sam interrupted him. "Who agreed you'd go first?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"House rules, Sammy. It's my car."

He scoffed. As if.

"It's our car," he corrected him. "You just happen to have a monopoly over the driving seat."

They had both been living in that car for their whole lives.

"Well, I'm the oldest," Dean decided. "And I go first."

"No," he shook his head. "That doesn't work like that."

As if he was going to let him take her first!

Dean scoffed, kicking his feet as if he was about to throw a tantrum.

"Dude, every time you go first you are too rough with them," he half whined. "You suck bruises all over them, you bite their tits, you squeeze their hips so hard you leave handprints!"

From the car, Lily whined, and Sam looked over to see her squirming, squeezing her legs together, very flushed.

Oh. Did she like that?

"It's not true," he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

It wasn't like he marked them... too much.

Dean was just too soft!

He would let any girl top him if he was to have his way!

"Dean-"

"Let's just Rock-Paper-Scissors," his brother decided. "Okay?"

Sam wanted to laugh. Asking for Rock-Paper-Scissors just meant loosing for him!

"Sure," he walked to him.

Sam hit his palm twice, thowing rock right as his brother threw scissors.

There.

His brother grimaced.

"Dammit," he grunted.

But he didn't even fight him.

"Fine," Dean crossed his arms. "Just go."

Wait. Really?

No best of three?

But Dean just sat on the driver's seat, and Sam didn't take any time before grabbing Lily.

"Sam," she whined, taking him from her thoughts.

He looked down at her, holding her by her hips, and pressed her chest against his.

Oh, those tits... he could mark those cheeks.

"Yes, sweet flower?"

She pouted.

"Are you going to mark me too?" she asked timidly.

Sam licked his lips, tempted, before restraining himself.

"Let me check if you're ready for me first," he changed the subject, unbuckling his pants.

It would be a little too hard to take off his pants inside.

Sam took his belt off, shoving it into the car, and guided her to the back seat.

But Lily looked at him with hunger, licking her pink lips.

But he knew just how to fuck in that backseat without much restraint.

If she wanted him to be rough, Sam would love to give it to her.

He tugged on his clothes, quickly revealing and freeing his cock, and her hands were very quick to come to take it.

"Oh," Lily spoke softly.

Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him slowly.

"It's so big..."

"Turn around, sweetheart," he tilted her chin up. "Raise your ass for me, will you?"

Lily whined, but complied, and Sam sat back a little as she put her knees on the seat.

Fuck, her ass was so gorgeous. Round and so juicy.

He flipped her skirt, pushing it up, and her panties were buried between her ass cheeks.

"Oh no," he faux lamented. "Your panties are ruined!"

They were. Her juices had made the light fabric all transparent now.

He pulled them off, and shoved them into Dean's hand, knowing his brother enjoyed them quite a bit.

"I'll keep these," he decided.

Sam smirked.

Of course he would.

His brother had no shame, taking them to his nose and sniffing them.

"Wet pussy," Dean hissed, looking at her. "Delicious."

Lily whined, and Sam couldn't hold himself, slapping her ass right away.

"You like it, pretty thing?" he hummed. "Bring a drippy slut for us?"

She arched her ass to him.

"Please, Sammy," she shook her ass side to side. "Fuck me?"

His cock throbbed.

How could he say no?

Sam spread her ass to get a better look at her cunt, and took his cock in his free hand, teasing her folds with it.

Fuck, she was so fucking wet, just so slippery.

He pushed the head into her entrance, pushing in, and her cunt squeezed him right away.

The way Lily moaned should have been illegal.

Sam had no patience, just pushing and pushing, engulfed by her wet walls, until he was fully settled inside her.

"Fuck," he groaned.

He leaned over her, covering her whole body with his, and earn a silly moan.

"Sam," her head fell forward.

"Like this, my flower?" he pressed his lips to her ear. "Is this what your pussy needs?"

But before she could even answer, he pulled back and slammed himself all the way into her.

"Fuck!" she cried. "Yes, Sam!"

He growled, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

"Fucking look at you," he pulled back, slamming into her again. "So pathetic, getting fucked by a stranger in his car outside..."

She moaned, silly, her cunt squeezing around his cock already.

"Yes, Sam," she whined.

"You didn't even care that I pushed my cock into you all bare," Sam reminded her. "Don't even care we're not using protection. You really want to be dripping with cum, don't you?"

Lily gasped under him.

"Oh f-"

But he interrupted her, taking his fingers to her clit and rubbing on it hard.

"Fuuuck," she whined.

Her cunt fluttered around him.

"Stupid girl," he rubbed her. "Just a drippy slut for me."

He was going to leave her all stuffed for Dean.

"Maybe we'll even leave a little gift inside you," he teased her, smirking. "Everyone will know you're a knocked-up slut."

She moaned, and he could feel the heat on her neck, as if she was flushing. Her cunt, though, got wetter and tighter.

Oh, she liked that, hm?

"Sam," she whined.

He kissed her neck.

"Why don't you say it, baby girl," he taunted her. "Say you want to be a knocked-up slut."

Lily shook her head, moaning under him.

He clicked his tongue.

No, that, wouldn't do.

Sam took his fingers from her clit and pushed them into her hair, pulling her head back, making her look at him, and buried his cock inside her, not moving.

"Sam!" she yelped.

"If you don't want to be my drippy knocked-up whore, then I'll have to stop fucking you," he reminded her, mockingly. "My cock is bare inside you, I can't risk it, little flower."

Lily whined, squirming, trying to move her hips under him, but Sam was just holding her.

"You're so mean, Sammy," Dean chuckled.

He looked over at his brother, finding him watching them as his arm moved slowly, her panties buried in his nose.

"The poor girl," he lamented.

Sam laughed, shaking his head, angling her to look at him.

"Look at him," he commanded. "My brother is so sweet, little flower. He'd let you walk all over him. He would let you ride him just so he could bury his face in those tits."

Dean moaned, undoubtedly thinking of it.

"But I'm not my brother," he bit her earlobe. "I want to break you. Make you into a stupid little thing that needs cock to live, that needs MY cock to breathe."

She moaned, her cunt squeezing him more.

"Now tell me, my dumb little flower," he made her look at him. "What are you?"

She whined.

"I'm your dumb slut," Lily moaned.

Sam smirked.

"And...?"

She pouted.

"I want to be your knocked-up slut, Sam," she begged. "Please."

Sam couldn't help himself.

Well, she had asked, hadn't she?

He fucked her hard as fast, the sound of his lips slapping her ass echoing loudly.

"Sam!" she moaned, a little too loudly.

She whimpered around them.

"P-ease," Lily moaned.

They laughed together, and Sam closed his eyes at her squeeze.

Fuck, he was getting close already.

He wished he could stay in her forever.

But he had to be a good brother.

Dean deserved a turn.

Sam took his fingers down again, rubbing her clit as he used her.

"You're going to cum for me while I fill you up," he commanded.

She moaned, silly.

"You're gonna cum on a stranger's cock while he knocks you up," Sam laughed. "Look at you."

Lily's cunt squeezed him, fluttering, squeezing.

Sam pressed his fingers harder to her clit, and he closed his eyes when she came right away, drooling all over Dean's fingers and Sam's cock.

"There you go," his brother praised. "Good slut."

Sam groaned, pulling back from her chest, rising from his spot as much as he could and grabbing her hips, fucking her hard and deep.

He was going to paint her insides, fill her up so much his seed would have nowhere to go but into her womb.

He moaned as he released himself, stopping himself from collapsing on top of her, but holding himself back.

The moment his balls emptied inside her, he pulled out slowly to look at the display in front of him.

Fuck, her cunt was all used, swollen and flushed.

"Wish I had a fucking camera," he grunted. "Would keep a memory of the day we put a baby into you."

She whimpered, face down on the backseat, and Dean pulled on his shoulder.

"Hey, you have your fun," his brother grunted. "She is mine now."

…

“Stupid Squeee” was posted on Patreon on February 2023. To read it now before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

…

Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

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aylacavebear · 4 months

Text

She Thought She was Normal

So, this isn't my first fanfic, but it's one I've been working on for over four months now. It is the first one I'm sharing with more than just my family though, something I've never done before. It does have 28 chapters so far, and it isn't finished yet. I'm always up for suggestions and constructive feedback, either in comments or DMs.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine.

Word Count: 4054

Warnings: Trauma - Family Death, First meetings, childhood rivalry

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

Chapter 1 - In The Beginning

She woke up screaming in the passenger seat of her dad's truck, it was dark, and her father was driving them to her Uncle's. The nightmare was still clinging to her vision.

“You okay, munchkin?” her father asked.

“Yeah, Daddy, just a nightmare,” she answered, trying to catch her breath.

Her mother had just been killed by a yellow-eyed demon in their home and now, they were just trying to get somewhere safe to deal with the grief.

Maria was five, her parents were hunters, and her mother was dead due to the demon that had been after Maria. She had deep, dark blue eyes and jet-black hair that went down to the middle of her back, the birth signifiers of the Winter lineage. Her father was a Men of Letters, she was a Legacy, even if she didn't fully understand what that meant yet. She was also something else. She'd heard her father on the phone once, talking to Bobby, and the word Nephilim had been said, although she was too young to know what that meant.

There was silence for a while on the drive, as she didn't want to have nightmares again, “Do you think mamma went to heaven?” she asked her father quietly, curiously.

He sighed, “I hope so munchkin.”

His words didn't help her feel better, but even with being five, she understood that there was no guarantee where her mother had ended up. She stayed awake for another hour before sleep retook her; this time, there were no nightmares.

Bobby had been up for hours, setting up the guest room the best he could for her after William had called him explaining what happened. He was on his fifth drink when he heard Williams's truck pull up in front, it now being three in the morning. William carried her inside as Bobby held the door open.

“Guest room is all set up,” Bobby sighed as he closed the door.

William nodded as he carried her there, tucking her in under the covers, and then kissed her on the forehead. He then closed the door behind him and joined Bobby in the living room, sitting on the couch.

Bobby handed him a drink, “You're going after it, aren't you?”

William sighed, “Wouldn't you?”

“You should talk to John, he's after the same demon, might have some information that could help,” Bobby offered.

William sighed before downing his drink, “I haven't talked to him in a couple years now.”

“You're hunting the same thing, Will,” he replied, glancing towards the hallway to where Maria was sleeping, “How's she doing?”

“About how you'd expect,” William replied, “Can you keep up her training and education for while I'm gone? It'll be at least a couple weeks.”

“Yeah,” Bobby sighed.

William only stayed for another ten minutes before he headed out. Bobby felt bad for both of them and he hid his grief for the loss of Alarra, Maria's mother, and William's wife. Hell, Bobby had introduced Will to his sister, Alarra, so many years ago. He didn't go back to sleep that morning after Will had left. Instead, he read over the journal that Will had left for him. It contained Maria's training and education, as well as an outline of what Will and Alarra had wanted to teach her and when. Bobby sighed as he read through it, especially when he noticed the entry from a week before where her powers had begun to manifest. There were only a select few who knew what Maria was, Bobby, John, and Ellen being the main three since Ellen and Alarra had been like sisters.

Maria woke up a few hours later, still in her clothes from the night before, finding Bobby sitting at his desk reading a book.

“Hi…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Mornin kid, how you doing?” he asked, looking up from his book.

She sat down on the couch, staring at the floor, and shrugged her shoulders, “Mom's gone…. It's weird, knowing that…” she replied, feeling disconnected from everything at the moment.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked, not wanting to push her if she didn't want to talk about it.

“Did Dad leave my bag?” she asked, ignoring his question.

Bobby sighed, even at five she seemed stubborn, but also needing routine, “Yeah. It's on the kitchen table.”

“Thank you,” she replied before getting up.

Her parents had gotten her into a routine and she was well-behaved for being five. She grabbed the bag off the table and went back to her room, closing the door behind her. She did her few morning stretches and exercises, as her parents had taught her, and even went over the movements with the silver knife her parents had given her. Maria pulled out a fresh pair of clothes and changed, putting her dirty clothes in a bag before stuffing that bag into her duffle. Then she proceeded to brush her hair, fighting with the memories of her mother teaching her how a year ago. She then slipped on the headband before cleaning her brush and putting it away. After a deep breath, she slipped her shoes back on before heading into the kitchen. Bobby was already there, making her some eggs and toast, with some bacon on the side. She sat down at the table and waited patiently, just watching him cook. She'd met her Uncle before and both her parents had spoken highly of him. She wished that this meeting was under better circumstances.

“Thank you, Uncle Bobby,” she told him kindly.

“You're welcome, kid,” he replied, then sighed.

He wasn't sure if it was the fact that she was a girl, a Nephilim, or how Will and Alarra had raised her as to how well-behaved she was. He'd figured she'd be emotionally broken after losing her mother the day before, but for now, she seemed numb to everything, at least to him. He finished her breakfast and set it in front of her before heading back to his desk, needing to do some research for a friend who'd called him two days prior. She ate her breakfast in silence. The eggs were plain, as Bobby hadn't seasoned them with anything, and the toast was close to being burnt, but she didn't say a word about it, being grateful for a home-cooked meal and not something from a gas station. She thought about how she could talk to him about it since she had a feeling her father hadn't said anything. When she was done eating she scooted the chair over to the sink and washed her dishes, then cleaned up. Maria went and brushed her teeth before joining Bobby in the living room.

“Thank you for breakfast, Uncle Bobby. What was the lesson on Dad's list for today?” she asked him, not ready to give in to the grief she was still pushing away.

He sighed before he sat back in his chair, “Demonology and then practicing cursive.”

“Will you be quizzing me after?” she asked.

“Well, I agreed to this, so yeah, I'll quiz you after,” he replied.

“Thank you again, Uncle Bobby,” she replied, getting up to retrieve the book from her bag, along with her cursive journal, which she had just begun a few days prior.

She seated herself at the kitchen table, setting her journal to her right with the Demonology book opened in front of her on the table. She read for two hours before she worked for thirty minutes on her cursive. Afterward, handing the book and journal to Bobby, and then sat down on the couch. He nodded his head while he looked over her cursive and almost couldn't believe she was only five, then had to remind himself that she was also a Nephilim or something close to that. He looked over what she had read and quizzed her on it. Even when he deliberately tried to trip her up, she was respectful when she corrected him and then gave him the right answer, which he couldn't help but smile proudly at her.

She took her books back to her room, putting them away before she practiced the moves her father had taught her, helping to increase her muscle memory. She also added to it a bit with the moves her father had recently shown her. Maria still didn't want to stop though, not wanting that pause to where her memories might begin to replay in her mind. She didn't want to see it, to hear the screams, feel the pain of her loss. She slipped out of her room and grabbed the closest book she could without her Uncle seeing her as he was focused on his own research. She sat on her bed and read, for what felt like hours before there was a knock on her door. She slipped the book under her pillow before he opened the door.

“Lunchtime kid,” Bobby told her as he opened her door, “There's a sandwich on the table. After lunch, we're gonna take a trip for some food for while you're here.”

“Okay Uncle Bobby, and thank you,” she replied, following him out of her room.

Maria ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, not happy that it was strawberry, but ate it anyway. She cleaned her dishes before grabbing her jacket and following her Uncle out to his car. Halfway through the ride, she finally broke the silence.

“So, do you have a list?” she asked, looking over at him.

“It's in my head,” he told her.

She wasn't quite sure what to say or how to ask about what he was getting without sounding rude or intrusive so she just looked out the windshield. Bobby wasn't entirely sure how to interact with her as he never had kids of his own. He parked near the front of the store and the two of them got out of the car. She walked over to him as he came around the tail end of the car, reaching out to hold his hand. It startled him, but he just smiled down at her. She let go of his hand when they reached the front of the store as he grabbed a cart. As they walked through the store, she watched him put things in the cart, making a mental note of the items.

“Uncle Bobby, would it be okay to get some grape jam?” she asked, curiously.

He thought for a moment and glanced at the items he'd already had, “Sure. Is there anything else specific you'd like?” he asked her.

He figured asking might help her be able to be more comfortable while she was staying with him. She smiled up at him and made sure to only ask for things she knew she was allowed to have, knowing her father would ask her about everything when he returned. When they made it to the checkout and loaded everything on the counter he glanced at the candy bars.

“Would you like something sweet? You did really good today,” he told her with a soft smile.

For a moment, his words surprised her, as she didn't realize there was another way to behave when in public, but looked over at the candy, “This one, I guess,” she replied, handing him a Reese's package that contained two of the chocolate and peanut butter cups.

Bobby smiled down at her as he put the candy with the other items but asked the cashier to leave it out, as he wanted her to be able to eat it in the car.

“Bobby? Bobby Singer? Is that you?” a female voice behind them asked, causing them both to turn around and look at her.

“Sheriff Mills. Good to see you, this is my niece, Maria,” he told her as the two shook hands.

Maria looked between the two of them for a moment before feeling comfortable enough to say anything, “Nice to meet you, ma'am.”

Her manners and respect surprised Jody, “Hi there. It's nice to meet you as well. How old are you?” she asked in a soft, kind tone.

“I'm five,” she replied.

“Well, you're a very sweet little girl for only being five,” she replied kindly to Maria.

Maria smiled a little but tuned out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear what might get brought up. She instead went over and helped put the groceries in the cart again once they were bagged, again, impressing Jody.

“Everything okay with Will and Alarra?” Jody asked Bobby.

He sighed, glanced at Maria, and then back at Jody, “Alarra was killed last night, in a bad accident. Will had to leave to deal with the legalities of everything,” he explained.

“That poor girl,” Jody whispered, watching her put another bag in the cart, “How long is she staying with you?”

“Should only be a couple weeks but you never know how long these things take,” Bobby answered. He had to keep the demon part out of the conversation. Jody didn’t know about any of that stuff, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, I’m here, if you need any advice on anything,” she told him with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Sherrif. I might take you up on that,” he chuckled.

Bobby bid her goodbye, and the two went back to his house, eating the candy bar her Uncle had gotten her on the drive. When they got back, Maria helped bring in the groceries and put away what she could reach. He double-checked the schedule her father had left but she was already grabbing her books from her bag so she could work on the afternoon work.

The next two weeks were like this. She kept to her schedule, sneaking books from her Uncle's collection and making sure they got put back where she'd found them, her Uncle never the wiser. It was a Wednesday of the third week while she was sitting at the table, working on her cursive when she heard her father's truck pull up in the driveway, but she also heard another vehicle. She was supposed to sit there for another ten minutes but her curiosity and happiness got the better of her. She set down her pencil and headed outside, running over to her father who was halfway to the door, wrapping her arms around him.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed.

“Hey munchkin,” he said, smiling as he picked her up, spinning her around, making her laugh.

He set her down, and she had to catch herself due to being a bit dizzy, but she was still laughing as an adult man, and two boys, one who looked older and one who looked younger than her, walked up. William took her hand and led her inside as she looked over her shoulder at the three of them for a moment, then turned around to watch where she was going.

“Finish your cursive and we'll do introductions,” William told her before he went into the living room with Bobby, the three others following him.

She did notice the two boys looking over at her as she sat back down at the table, picking up her pencil to do as her father had said. That ten minutes felt like forever to her. She hadn't felt like she didn't want to do her schooling before, not like she was now. When she did finish, she took a deep breath before grabbing her books and taking them to her Uncle, as he had been the one who'd been doing her schooling. He quizzed her on her reading as the others stayed silent, listening. He even tried tripping her up, to which she respectfully corrected him and gave him the right answers. He looked over her cursive and smiled at how she was progressing. She smiled happily and put her books away before returning to the living room.

“Maria, this is John Winchester and his boys, Dean and Sam,” William told her.

“It's nice to meet you, Sir,” she said to John, utterly respectful, “And you as well, Dean and Sam.”

John, as well as the boys, were impressed with her respect, “It's nice to meet you as well, Maria,” John told her with a proud smile, “Why don't the three of you go be kids outside for a bit, and keep an eye on Sam.”

She knew the adults wanted to talk about something that probably had to do with her mother, so she just nodded and headed outside, Dean and Sam following. Maria took note of how Dean took his younger brother's hand and walked at his pace, so she slowed down to walk at his pace. There was some awkward silence between Dean and Maria for a bit when she finally said something once they were further out in the scrap yard.

“Are you learning how to hunt too?” she asked, nonchalantly.

The question surprised Dean a bit, but he decided to act cool, “Yeah, what of it?”

“Just curious,” she replied, tilting her head slightly.

Dean wasn't sure what to think for this girl. She wasn't like any other girl he'd met before, as she was the first hunter's daughter he'd met. Maria went over to Sam, who was three, and began playing with him, getting him to laugh, a lot, an infectious, playful laughter. All Dean could do was watch her and how she interacted with his younger brother, in a way he couldn't. He may have been seven, but something about this girl intrigued him. It was clear she was being trained to be a hunter; she was respectful, but she hadn't stopped finding ways to bring laughter to people, at least to his brother, even with what had happened to her mother only two and a half weeks prior.

After a bit, Dean got an idea, “Hey, bet I could throw a rock further than you,” he said, a slightly competitive tone in his words.

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow from where she crouched in front of Sam, “Bet you I could not only throw further but also hit my target.”

Dean kept the confident expression, but he began second-guessing himself, seeing her confidence, “You're on.”

Dean picked a car that was around a hundred feet away and put an X on the side of the door. She smirked, “Your challenge, you go first,” she told him, turned to the side, gesturing to the car, still keeping her eye on Sam.

He swallowed, hard as he picked up a rock from the ground, testing its weight as he tossed it in the air a couple of times before he took aim and threw it at the car, hitting the far side of the X he'd drawn, which made him smirk. She just chuckled, then went and picked up the same rock he had used. When she got back to where he was standing, she noticed his puzzled look.

“Well, this way you can't blame it on the rock,” she told him with quite the sass and a smirk to match before she turned and chucked the rock, hitting the X dead center. She knew there were things she could say, but he father had taught her better than to gloat, “Maybe next time we see each other, we can do this again,” she smiled kindly.

Dean was practically speechless. There were too many things about this girl that surprised him, and being seven, all he could do was punch her in the shoulder, which only made her laugh a little before she went back to playing with Sam, leaving Dean to his thoughts.

About an hour later, John came out and told them to come inside. Maria took Sam's hand and led him back into the house, Dean following behind them. John smiled seeing the sight, silently calling William and Bobby over to see it as well. The three men just smiled, watching the kids as they came back toward the house. Dean went over and held Sam's other hand and made Sam smile and giggle, causing both kids to smile down at him.

“Well, if anything happens to us, hopefully, they'll have each other,” William said.

“Those three are welcome here anytime,” Bobby said, having quite a soft spot for them after the time he'd gotten to spend with his niece.

John and his boys stayed for dinner, which Maria helped Bobby with.

“At least they get along,” William told John, glancing at Dean who was sitting in a chair watching Bobby and Maria as they cooked.

“That’ll be a bonus,” John replied.

“Bobby suggested we team up since we’re both after the same thing,” William stated, sipping his beer.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he replied, “It would make things easier. Two heads are better than one.”

William chuckled, leaving out the monster joke, “Yeah. Plus it might give the kids some time to be kids,” he sighed.

“Did you have another lead, to head toward after here?” John asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, two states over. We’ll get that demon, John. One way or another, we’ll track it down, for the kids’ sake at least,” William told him, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Dean,” John said, causing him to look over at him, “Will and I are gonna work together, so they’ll be coming with us. Behave yourself.”

Dean rolled his eyes and John gave him a look, which made him straighten up, “Yes sir,” he replied, quietly but quickly losing the attitude.

He wasn’t pleased about now having to share a motel room with a girl, especially her. Yeah, she was somewhat interesting but at the same time, she was still a girl and girls were annoying. Dean wanted to ask why she couldn’t just stay with Bobby. He wanted to complain but he knew better than to argue with his father once he’d decided something.

Bobby made burgers with Maria standing on a chair, learning, Dean watching her from the living room, which was not being done discreetly. Bobby let her flip the burgers when it was time, as well as put the cheese on them when they were ready. In another pan he had bacon going, explaining the different levels of crispness. She was completely fascinated and paying attention.

“Dean, how do you like your bacon?” she asked, knowing he was watching her.

Dean got embarrassed, “Cooked?”

The adults laughed at the interaction but Maria just shook her head a bit as she helped set the table when the food was done. William was proud of his daughter with her constant thirst for knowledge. The schedule he'd made out for her was more for her than for him, as he still wanted her to be a kid sometimes too, not just focus on learning everything she could and grow up too fast. He loved seeing how she interacted with Sam earlier that day.

“So, John and I are gonna team up for a while, since we're after the same thing. This will make things easier,” William explained to Maria.

“Okay Pappa,” she replied, looking up at him.

It didn't bother her. She had enjoyed spending time with Sam, although she found Dean slightly annoying. She wouldn't say that part to her father though, knowing that would be rude. It was clear to Maria that her father and John had spoken to Dean in the living room while she'd been helping her Uncle with dinner since he hadn't been addressed during dinner.

“Will my lessons continue like you had scheduled?” she asked her father after she finished her burger.

“Yes. And I'll check it when I am at the motel, so it will be a little different than it is now,” he told her.

“Okay, Pappa,” she replied.

Part of her was going to miss the quizzes after her reading, but she knew it happened sometimes, depending on whatever case her parents worked. Although now, her mother was gone. Something she still hadn't grieved for. She'd even managed to keep her nightmares at bay, reading one of Bobby's books before bed, which he still didn't know about and she was going to miss that. Once dinner was done, Maria helped with clean up, and John had Dean help as well, to which he didn't argue.

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Chapter 2

Link to the master list for this story.

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 3 months

Text

Bunny Slippers: Chapter Six

Summary: Julia and Dean have a wholesome moment after an emotional evening.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Swearing, just fluff

Word Count: 2,436 words

Author's Note: Another smaller chapter, I promise that chapter seven will probably be a thick boi.

Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five

The warmth emanating from Dean, combined with his gentle touch and the ambient noise of the movie, created a cocoon of comfort that enveloped Julia, drawing her into a deep sleep. As the movie came to a close, its end credits silently scrolling across the screen, Dean noticed Julia's peaceful slumber against him. Carefully, he maneuvered to slide off the bed, intent on not disturbing her rest.

Turning to Sam, who had quietly observed the scene unfold, Dean whispered, "Jules had a rough night. I'll crash in her room so she can have the bed here." His voice was soft, a testament to the protective instinct he felt towards Julia.

Dean then positioned himself closer to Julia, his movements deliberate and gentle. "Sammy, help me out here. Lift the covers for me, will ya? I'm gonna move her so she's more comfortable," he instructed, his tone low but clear, ensuring their combined efforts wouldn't wake her.

As Dean carefully lifted Julia into his arms, cradling her with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his concern, Sam complied without hesitation, pulling back the bedcovers as requested. Together, they managed the task with an ease born of countless nights spent in similar, makeshift accommodations.

Dean gently laid Julia down, her head finding the pillow with a softness that assured him of her comfort. He then took a moment to remove her slippers, placing them neatly by the bed, a small but significant gesture of care. Pulling the covers over her, he tucked them around her sleeping form, ensuring she was warm and secure.

Sam, witnessing the scene, nodded in silent agreement, a shared understanding between the brothers that no words could encapsulate. They were protectors, not just of each other, but of those who entered their lives, willingly taking on the night's shadows to ensure the safety of those they cared for.

Dean offered Sam a quiet "Goodnight" before making his way through the motel door and into Julia's room. The transition was seamless, the familiar scent of her perfume greeting him as he crossed the threshold, a subtle reminder of her presence even in her absence.

Settling into her bed, Dean found comfort in the remnants of Julia's scent that clung to the pillows, an invisible yet palpable connection to her. The room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that often followed them.

As he lay there, thoughts of Julia filled his mind, not just the events of the day but the shared moments of laughter, danger, and quiet understanding that had come to define their relationship. Her resilience, her kindness, and the way she fit so seamlessly into their world enveloped his thoughts, a soothing balm to the day's end.

In the silence of Julia's room, with her essence enveloping him, Dean drifted off to sleep, the trials of their lives momentarily at bay. In these hours of rest, the lines between protector and friend, between hunter and human, blurred, offering a glimpse of tranquility in their tumultuous existence.

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As the night's deep veil gradually lifted to welcome the early hues of dawn, Julia's sleep, once deep and undisturbed, turned restless. Stirring awake, she was momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Glancing towards the other bed, she noticed Sam, sprawled out in a peaceful slumber, his limbs taking up the expanse of the mattress, a soft snore punctuating the quiet of the room.

The realization of Dean's absence — and the memory of his gentle care the night before — washed over her. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of his selflessness, his decision to vacate his bed for her comfort, reflecting the depth of compassion he possessed beneath his rugged exterior.

Motivated by a desire to express her gratitude, Julia quietly rose from the bed. She slipped her feet into her fluffy bunny slippers, the soft fabric a comfort against the cold floor. With a plan forming, she remembered the quaint coffee shop she had spotted not far from their motel — a perfect place to procure a morning treat for Dean.

In the predawn dimness, she located a flannel shirt draped over a chair, an afterthought left by one of the brothers. Pulling it on over her pajamas, she appreciated its warmth and the faint scent of detergent mixed with a trace of Dean's cologne that clung to the fabric.

With care to avoid any noise that might disturb Sam's rest, Julia opened the motel door and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The world outside was quiet, the bustle of the day yet to begin, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights transitioning to daylight. Her heart carried a lightness, fueled by the simple act of kindness she was about to perform, a silent thank you to Dean for his unspoken support.

As the early morning light began to seep through the curtains, Dean remained oblivious to the world, lost in the depths of sleep, face buried into the pillow beneath him. The quiet click of the door announced Julia's return, her hands carefully balancing two to-go coffee cups as she navigated her way into the room. Gently, she placed them on the bedside table, a silent offering of gratitude for his kindness.

Leaning over, Julia's touch was feather-light on Dean's back as she called his name, "Dean," her voice carrying the softness of the dawn, a tender attempt to bridge the gap between sleep and wakefulness.

Stirred by her voice, Dean slowly surfaced from the depths of sleep, his first sight the dim outline of Julia standing beside the bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, a look of momentary confusion giving way to recognition.

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, a half-smile forming as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Is that for me?" he nodded towards the coffee, his early morning gruffness melting into a genuine warmth at the sight of her. "You didn't have to, but thanks, Jules. That's... really thoughtful of you." His appreciation was evident, not just for the coffee but for the gesture, for the morning's quiet beginning, and for the companionship that had grown between them in the face of everything they faced together.

Dean sat up fully, his legs swinging over the side of the bed as he faced Julia. Noticing the aged flannel she had thrown over her pyjamas, he couldn't help but flash a cheeky smile. "Is that my flannel?" he queried, amusement lacing his tone.

"I don't know, I just grabbed it off the floor in your room," Julia responded, a playful note in her voice as she gave the flannel a cursory glance, assessing its fit over her frame.

She then added with a chuckle, "The waitresses at the coffee shop thought I was homeless, so they gave me a donut." Her light-heartedness about the morning's attire and the unintended impression it gave off was evident. "But before you get any ideas, I already ate it," she admitted as she took a seat next to Dean.

"Steal my flannel and don't even share your donut. Wow, Jules, I can't believe you," Dean teased, giving her arm a gentle nudge, his tone playful yet filled with a warmth that only deepened their connection.

Julia rolled her eyes in mock exasperation before turning to face him, their eyes locking in a moment of silent communication. Dean, caught in the gravity of their gaze, found his eyes drifting to her lips as she bit them in contemplation.

Breaking the moment, Julia spoke up, her voice soft, "I just wanted to say thanks for last night," as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture revealing her vulnerability. "So, I got you a coffee," she finished, the simplicity of her thanks underlining the depth of her gratitude and the complex emotions of the night before.

As she looked back into Dean's eyes, there was a palpable shift in the air between them. Dean, feeling the intensity of the moment, found his heartbeat quickening, a rush of adrenaline mingling with an undeniable warmth. His eyes locked on hers, and he swallowed, trying to find his voice, which seemed lodged somewhere between his heart and his throat.

"I'll always have room for a cup of coffee, especially when it's with you," Dean managed, his voice rough with sleep but softened by the tender moment they were sharing. His usual cockiness was there, but it was tempered by a genuine warmth that wasn't always visible to others.

As he noticed Julia wearing his flannel, a playful yet affectionate smile danced on his lips. "You know, in any other circumstance, I might have to start a manhunt for my stolen goods. But seeing you in my flannel, I gotta say, it suits you way better than it does me." He reached up, his fingers gently brushing another lock of hair behind her ear, his touch deliberate and tender. The way Julia's cheeks flushed under his touch, the way her breath caught slightly—it was like watching a flower bloom under the morning sun. For a moment, they were caught in a bubble of intimacy, a world away from the chaos that usually surrounded them.

But, as if on cue to shatter their brief respite, Dean's phone erupted into a cacophony of ringing. He cursed softly under his breath, "Son of a bitch," the words slipping out in a hushed tone, more out of reflex than anger.

Julia, observing the conflict playing out in Dean's eyes—the desire to remain in this fleeting sanctuary versus the call of duty—spoke gently, "You should probably take that." Her voice was laced with understanding, yet a hint of disappointment that they couldn't hold onto the moment a little longer.

Dean's eyes met hers, a storm of green that spoke volumes of apologies and what-ifs, before he reluctantly turned to grab the phone from the bedside table. "Yeah, Bobby, what's up?" he answered, his voice betraying the frustration of being pulled away from Julia, even as he tried to mask it with his usual bravado.

In the background, Julia quietly gathered her things, the spell of the moment broken, as she slipped into the bathroom to change. The transient intimacy they shared was now just another memory, fleeting and bittersweet, as they both returned to the realities waiting for them outside their temporary haven.

As Dean juggled the phone between his shoulder and ear, his attention was split. Half of him was on the conversation with Bobby, absorbing the details of their next case, his voice laced with that unmistakable Winchester determination. "Yeah, Bobby, I got it. We'll head out first thing. No, I haven't seen anything like it either. We'll be careful, you know us."

But the other half of his focus was entirely on Julia as she emerged from the bathroom. She was a vision in her high-waisted jeans and black AC/DC t-shirt, the red and black flannel he recognized as his own adding a layer of intimacy to her outfit. Dean couldn't help but pause mid-sentence, watching her move with a grace that always seemed to capture his full attention. His eyes followed her every step, admiration and a touch of something deeper flickering in his gaze.

As Julia sauntered across the room, there was a playful confidence in her stride, a silent conversation passing between them. She winked at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and whispered in a way that was both conspiratorial and tender, "I'm gonna wake up Sam. Looks like we're hitting the road soon, huh?" Her voice was a soft murmur, barely audible over the distance but loud enough for Dean, a smile briefly playing on his lips at her gesture.

Before he could respond, she slipped through the motel door, leaving Dean momentarily caught between the worlds of his duty and the brief domestic bliss they'd carved out for themselves. He returned his focus to Bobby, his voice now carrying a hint of the reluctance he felt at the day ahead. "Alright, Bobby, we're on it. Yeah, I'll keep you posted."

Hanging up, Dean allowed himself a moment to linger on Julia's departure, her presence still palpable in the room. The mix of rock 'n' roll rebellion and the unexpected softness she brought into his life was a contrast Dean found himself increasingly drawn to. With a resigned sigh, he started to gather his things, the weight of the hunter's life settling back onto his shoulders as he prepared to face whatever lay ahead, fortified by the brief respite Julia's presence had offered.

With the seamless coordination of a well-oiled machine, the trio methodically packed their belongings, each movement honed from countless similar mornings. The anticipation of the road ahead to Sioux Falls hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges and uncertainties that lay in wait. Yet, the mood was lightened by the unmistakable chords of AC/DC blasting through the radio, a testament to Dean's unchanging taste in music and a nonverbal pact of their shared readiness to face whatever demons awaited them.

Julia, seated in the back, found a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of their lives. She rolled down the window, inviting the cool morning air to dance through her hair. The wind was a welcome companion, its whispering roar a contrast to the constant hum of danger that shadowed their steps. It was in these moments, with the world rushing by and the music enveloping them, that Julia found a semblance of peace.

Her gaze, lost in the passing landscape, occasionally drifted to the car's rearview mirror. Each time, she was met with Dean's bright green eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. Those fleeting glances were filled with an unspoken language of reassurance, challenge, and a shared recognition of the moment's fleeting beauty. Dean's eyes, so often a mirror to his soul's complexities, now reflected a mix of determination and the rare, unguarded affection he reserved for those he truly cared for.

As the car sped down the highway towards Sioux Falls, the trio was enveloped in the sounds of classic rock, the engine's steady hum, and the world blurring past. It was a moment captured in time, a breath between the chaos, where the only things that mattered were the road ahead, the music, and the unspoken understanding that, no matter what lay ahead, they faced it together.

To Be Continued...

Tag List: @deanwinchestersgirl87

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #spn

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