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chimcess · 3 months

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Afterglow || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other tags: Vampire!Hoseok, Vampire!Reader Genre: Supernatural!AU, Vampire!AU, Twilight Universe, established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp Word Count: 4.5k+ Synopsis: "A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting." Warnings: Character death (brief), mental illness (not reader and very brief), penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, lots of licking, kisses, slow and deep, Hoseok is a vocal boy, they are so in love, edging, over stimulation, hair pulling, man handling, growling, body worship, breast worship, unprotected sex (stay safe), vampire/animal sounds, implied outdoor sex, they are honestly so freaking cute, let me know if I missed anything A/N: So, I recently rewatched the entire Twilight Saga and couldn't stop myself. I promise they have nothing to do with the Cullens. I'm simply borrowing S.Meyer's universe for a second. Thanks for reading.

Staring out of the second story window, I frowned. There was a thunderstorm on its way and the wind was harsh. Still, I stayed put. I would not move until I knew he was coming back.

The first few droplets that landed against my cheeks were freezing and as the rain started coming down, I got soaked. There had been a window here once but after a rather unfortunate night, one where mama had shouted and threw a candlestick holder at my head, the glass was all but gone. Only one singular piece along the very bottom of the trim remained.

She was dead now, well, as dead as I believed her to be. Daddy, too. Only I remained. The house had been suffocating at first, my body unable to handle the loneliness. My memories of the attack were weak and dimly lit, but I could never forget the moment the burn began. I will never forget what led up to it.

At the ripe age of nineteen, my father was planning to marry me off to a local boy called Percival Hobbs. Mr.Hobbs was a fine gentleman, his sensibilities and wit uncharacteristically gentle and kind for a man of the era. We were both middle classes, his family only slightly richer than my own, and well matched. I was happy to be marrying him, especially when he told me his plans of expanding his father’s business out of Virginia. I hated this place back then; I could recall that fairly well despite the thick film which covered my old life.

My mother was an unusual woman of which I had gotten my own set of quirks. When I was young, I could remember her singing as she cooked, weaving flowers through her greasy hair as she doted on my father as if he were a king. We never went without, and her joy was contagious. My mother, for all intents and purposes, was a happy person. Perhaps a bit odd, she was more outspoken and considered rather rude to the other women in Richmond, but no one could truly say anything bad about her.

It was only after a particularly nasty accident that her behavior changed. We were on our way to visit her sister in Norfolk when our horses were startled by something out in the woods. Our carriage took a fall and my mother hit her head on a rock. We were all lucky to have survived the ordeal, something my father praised God for, but mama was never the same. She never smiled, hardly spoke, and could never find the melodies of the songs she had loved so dearly. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the light within her was turned off.

Daddy was nervous, as was I, but childish worries and adult sorrow were different. I believed she was sad, but my father knew she would never return back to normal. His work became more demanding after that. As a lawyer, my father was held in high regard at the time and worked long days and nights in order to provide for the three of us. They never bore another child. I believe it was because my mother could no longer stand to be touched and my father could never hurt her, even if it broke his heart.

Years passed that way until a sudden change began to occur. No longer was she silent, but the songs she sang were very different. Her eyes were more alive than they had been in a long, long time, and her voice had come back. The joy of this was short lived, however, as her delusions started soon after. Men who were not really men, monsters who could love, and things that would reflect like diamonds in the sunlight. All of it rubbish, all of it insane, but all of it real in her fragmented mind.

Daddy was planning on getting her committed after she said there were people living in the walls of our home. He might have killed her for declaring her love for a man who shined in the sun if he had not believed her to be completely psychotic. All the while I watched as the woman I held dearly began to hate and resent the both of us. That was when the shouting started, the violence, and then father had no choice but to call the doctor.

He had no way of knowing the chain of events that could cause, nor the dire consequences it would have on me. The doctor came to the house a little after midnight to take my mother away. She screamed and thrashed violently as she went, calling out to her monster to come and save her.

His name had been Louis and I only remember it because of what happened next. She had only said his name once, a broken and terrified cry for help, when the figure appeared. He was a beautiful man; his skin so pale it shined in the carriage’s lantern light. I do not remember if his hair had been brown or black, it was too dark to make out, but I did know his eyes were red. Bloody, dripping with hatred, and trained on the hands of the doctor holding my mother.

The doctor was dead in the next breath he took, my mother curling into the beast’s chest in complete hysterics. Louis then looked at my father, his intentions clear, before finding me. I was crying, my nightgown thin and exposing, and my own horror was reflected back at me. Whatever he saw that day made all the difference. Killing my father was easy for him to do. If he was my mother’s lover, then he would have hated the man who bore her children. I don't remember screaming but I could recall my mother telling me not to be afraid. Louis would make it quick. My death, she said, would be painless.

It was not. When Louis’s teeth sank into my neck, I only felt the slightly pinprick of pressure before I grew tired and weak. I knew I would die, and I did not fight it. I was either too weak or shell-shocked to put much behind it. Then, he was off of me, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

“You will be magnificent,” He whispered, kissing my cheek. His voice was soft, presumably to keep my mother from hearing us. I would never know why. “I will take care of her. You take care of yourself, little one.”

Then they were gone, Louis and my mother both. I had barely managed to crawl back inside, my hand clutching the wound on my neck, when the burning started. It lasted for three days and when it was over, I woke up afraid and starved. My father and the doctor were still outside, but I did not care who they were. I drained what was left of them before realizing what I had done. Ashamed and mortified, I put them both in the carriage and set it on fire. No one could know what had happened, of that I was certain.

The next few years of my life were spent in the forests of Virginia staying out of sight and hunting. I lived off of animals mostly, their deaths did not weigh down on my conscience as much as a human's did. My family home was vacant, untouched, and our names were forgotten to time. In 1875, I finally emerged from my isolation in the forests and moved back in. By 1900, I was able to venture into town on a rare occasion when the sun was well hidden beneath a thick layer of clouds. The house had gone through very few changes and the room I stood in now had been my father’s study. I hated the thought of touching anything in it, but I knew I would need to fix this issue. I could feel how weak the wood around it was becoming.

A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting.

I met Hoseok through coincidence. My friend Seokjin, a Korean immigrant who traveled across the world as a nomad, had stumbled across the boy when he was dying from tuberculosis on the streets of New York. Jin, feeling sorry for the young man, changed him as he had done so five other times. All of his children were nomads, two of them finding their mates, and I got along with them rather well. Hoseok was no exception.

Jin had come to me after Hoseok had taken a swipe at his sire’s own newly transformed mate, Evelyn. The boy needed someone to help him with his temper and dealing with two newborns was rather difficult. I remembered my own early years with distaste. We acted more like animals than people.

Hoseok arrived on my doorstep in 1953, angry, hungry, and completely irrational. He was just over a year old and while the worst of it was over, he had a gift that took its toll on him. Not all of our kind had an extra sense. Jin, for example, was completely normal. His beauty was unparalleled, but even in his human life he was the most handsome man one could have met. Hoseok, however, was not as lucky.

The boy was incredibly powerful, his ability to hypnotize anyone with the sound of his voice was something the Volturi, the leaders and rulers of our kind, would love to get their hands on. For Hoseok, it made his thirst grow quicker and he lacked control of it. He could easily manipulate those around him without meaning to, which was why his brothers did not want to deal with the task. I was Jin’s last resort and the only reason he had come to me was my own gift.

I lived in my world in a sort of bubble. Gifts, no matter the kind, were ineffective against it. The bubble was invisible, elastic, and malleable, but impenetrable. I could choose to remove it from myself and take the brunt of whatever ability was being thrown at me, but I had only done it twice. Both times had been when Jungkook had come to see me and wanted to know if his gift, to make fake clones of himself, could throw me off. He won the first round, but I came out on top the second time. Being the sore loser he is, Jungkook never asked for a rematch.

Hoseok and I took some time to warm up to one another. The pull toward him was instantaneous but he was too young and wild for either one of us to explore what that could mean. The first five months was spent chasing him down before he could attack the unsuspecting townsfolk in Richmond. Then it was showing him the way I hunted. When his eyes changed from red to amber to gold, his mood stabilized. Our friendship was finally able to take root and before long our love bloomed.

After our first kiss under the stars in the trees that surrounded my home, we were connected so deeply that removing one would surely bring death upon the other. When I was a child, I had been disappointed to grow up in the East. We were in the more rural part of Richmond and all of the girls at school made fun of me for being a ‘country bumpkin.’ As a vampire, however, my little ranch was a paradise. Hoseok and I could make love for hours and no one would hear a thing.

Right now, during this thunderstorm, would be prime time for us to lose ourselves within one another. It was a shame he had decided to go hunting alone today. Hoseok liked having space far more than I did, but I understood his wants and needs and gave him what he asked for. I could only hope his delay was from him getting distracted and not an unfortunate slip up. He had them more than I did, and they ruined his mood for weeks.

Finally, I saw him. His black hair was slick and stuck to his forehead from the rain, the linen pajamas he had worn out transparent and heavy. Elated to finally have him home, I jumped out of the window and crashed into him. The sound was thunderous.

Hoseok laughed, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

On top of him, I sighed, holding him close to me. The rain was cold, but it would not bother me. I could not get sick. Capturing his lips, I finally felt at ease. I did not like it when he was gone. The house was too quiet.

“I love you,” I sighed, feeling my body hum to life with need. “I missed you. Touch me.”

This aspect of our love life had been difficult for me at first. I was from an era when a woman did not speak this way, but after gentle coaxing from my lover, I had gotten over the prudishness of the 1850s. We were, after all, more connected than any human couple could hope to be. Gripping my hips, Hoseok licked my bottom lip.

“Can we go inside?” He asked, nipping at my chin as my hands shredded his shirt. “The rain is distracting.”

I nodded and he scooped me up, carrying me back inside at our natural speed. We were fan, faster than any living thing on the planet, and able to see the world clearly as we passed it by. Hoseok ripped the front door of its hinges, making me laugh. He was always so impatient when it came to sex.

We ran up the steps, passing the study on the way to our bedroom. The door was still open, the rain pouring into it. I wondered briefly what my father would have thought of Hoseok. Then his lips were attached to my ear and all thoughts of my father were gone.

He was less aggressive with the door to our bedroom. A creak inaudible to the human ear sent a chill up my spine as I clung to his wet body. His skin felt hot under my hands despite how cold we both were. Hoseok was panting like a dog, more from his excitement than any real need for air.

He laid me down on our bed gently before tearing off my dress. The chemise pulled apart as easily as a piece of paper. Hoseok’s mouth found my chest as soon as it was exposed to him, mouth finding a nipple as a hand fiddled with the other. Whining, I buried my hands in his hair and held him close to me.

“I missed you so much,” I cried out.

Hoseok bit down on the little nub before letting it go with a loud smack. Fingers still twisting and brushing my right nipple, he smiled down at me. Topaz eyes were pitch black with desire and a low purr reverberated through his chest. I felt it in my groin.

“I missed you more,” He replied huskily.

I smiled shyly, reaching out for him. Hoseok leaned into my touch, purring increasing as I caressed his face. Pouting my lips, I begged him to come closer with my eyes. He smiled; his eyes soft.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He sucked on my chest for what felt like hours, grinding his hips down to meet my own, and purring like a cat the entire time. He had always embraced the more animalistic aspects of our life. My breathy sighs spurred him on, my hands increasing their wandering across his torso, as I silently pleaded with him for more. Hoseok only made me wait a few moments more before sloppy kisses descended down my stomach.

A thin pair of cotton underwear separated us, but he simply licked over the fabric. I cried out, the pleasure sending shockwaves through my body. Long, hard swipes of his tongue had my writhing, his breath so hot and warm against me it felt like I was taking a scolding bath. With every lick and suck I felt myself grow hotter. Hoseok lost himself to his own pleasure, rubbing himself against the mattress as he held my legs apart.

Sex was not always so brazen. Our first few times were more primal, the need to be close after months of dancing around the issue making the release all the more powerful. After that, I had grown slightly shy. Hoseok had taken to leaving my top on during those days, letting me grow more comfortable in his presence, and taking me so gently I cried. The next 70 years have taught us a great deal about one another, and now sex was just a part of who we were. Not a day went by that we were not lost to it, each time bringing out a different part of us, before going back to our respective hobbies. In a storm like this, however, I imagined we would not leave this bed.

“Please,” I whined. “More.”

Finally, the thin piece of cotton was removed, and his tongue was on me. Long and broad at first, he liked to play with me for a few moments before diving in. Unlike myself, my love had enough patience to watch and wait. Savoring it, he said. I think he just enjoyed being the only person who could see my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

I felt the ghost of his fingers trailing down my leg at the same time his mouth found my clitoris. I hissed, back arching off the bed as he swirled his tongue around the bud. His finger pressed against my opening. I gushed around it, grinding my hips down and forcing the tip inside of me. Hoseok groaned, tongue becoming more aggressive. I cried out, pushing down again and swallowing more of his finger. Finally, with a deep growl, he pushed it the rest of the way and added another immediately after.

I had never felt more alive than when we were in this bed. With Hoseok on top of me, eyes hungry and watching my every move like I was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The monster within me was finally asleep as I became all consumed with his touch. Finding the soft bundle of nerves within me, Hoseok purred. I sobbed, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Look at you,” Hoseok rasped, moving from my sex to watch me. His fingers stretched me out as my hips raised to meet his thrusts. “So pretty and warm.”

He kissed my neck, “Your body is so beautiful.”

Languid kisses down across my throat, teeth gently grazing the skin, before trailing back down to my breasts. They had always been his favorite part of my body. He licked down the swell before kissing my nipple. His fingers sped up their menstruations making me mewl.

“God,” He croaked, voice deeper than normal. “You love this, don’t you?”

I nodded, body twitching and convulsing. “Yes.”

“Tell me how much,” He sucked on my left nipple.

I struggled to find words. My body was on fire now, my stomach tightening and expanding, and I knew I was close. My thighs were shaking so violently I would be embarrassed if it was anybody else, but this was Hoseok, and I knew he was happy to see my body singing for him. Somehow, I managed to speak.

“So much,” I breathed. “I love it so much.”

Sitting back on his ankles, he smirked. His shirt was gone and his toned body was on full display. I would never get bored of looking at him. Hoseok was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

“You’re so messy,” His voice was like velvet. “So wet for me.”

His thumb found my clit and I was cumming before I could really savor the feeling. With a loud shout, I fell apart with Hoseok’s eyes on me. I was wired up and so desperate for more I began to beg. My pleas came out without a single thought behind them. I was drunk on pleasure and yearning for more.

“Just relax,” He finally said, hovering over me once more. His fingers were gone now and I began to tear at his pants. They were still wet and his skin had cooled the rain even further. “I’m going to take care of you.”

My hands were all over him. With his pants disposed of and his cock out, I held it tightly as I began to work my hands in a rhythm I knew he loved. Hoseok let out a guttural sound, a mix between a bear and a mountain lion, as he began to fondle my breasts again. Flicking my nipples, he fucked himself into my hand as he panted.

“Stop,” He grunted, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Grab your legs.”

I did as I was told. It had been difficult to let go of my control in the beginning. I was such a tightly wound person, my need for schedules and sameness a byproduct of my upbringing. I was raised to be prim, proper, and well put together. Even if I did not feel well, I was to be washed, dressed, and smiling all day long. Father would not accept anything less.

When my sexual relationship with Hoseok started, that was still a large part of who I was. When we changed we were frozen in time. It took a lot to cause great change within our kind. For myself, I had only had two since the burning stopped. The first was my decision to stop hunting the humans in my area. Animal blood helped calm the raging anger and depression I carried over from the last night I was alive. The second had been Hoseok’s arrival. Our mates changed us in the most profound way, and his existence made the looming sadness I carried with me fade. It was not gone, it would never fully heal for that was impossible, but he made the gaping hole in my heart three times smaller.

The other thing that changed was my horrible habit of controlling the people around me. Jin and the others all commented on my inability to relax or let go. Jimin, the first person Jin had ever changed, had joked that I was the only vampire in existence with wrinkles. I laughed at the time, but after Hoseok came to me I realized he had been right. I was always stressed, always striving for perfection, and always disappointed when it never came to fruition.

Laying underneath him, I was in awe at how easily I pushed my legs up against my chest. My arm pinned them down. There was not a worry about how improper I looked or if my hair was splayed out nicely. I did not care if this was perfect because I knew we were. Hoseok pressed himself to my entrance and I smiled. I did not need perfection so long as I had him.

Pushing himself into me, he cried out in pleasure while I chanted ‘yes’ over and over and over again. Buried to the hilt, Hoseok took a moment to hook my legs around his hips and kissed the tip of my nose. With a soft declaration of his love, he began to move.

I held onto his arms with everything I had. Hoseok was stronger than I was so I did not need to worry about my own strength bothering him. Outside the storm raged on while we rejoiced in our pleasure. Hoseok’s thrusts were hard, steady, and hit my deepest spot with precision. After so long we had one another memorized.

“S’good,” Hoseok slurred, his hips pistoning into me roughly. “You feel so good.”

I whimpered, “Baby, please.”

He grabbed my hair, roughly shoving my face into the mattress as he lifted his leg onto the bed. I wailed, his cock pounding into my g-spot making me see stars. His own sounds grew louder, growls and snarls filling the space as the sounds of us coming together grew louder and louder.

Fire was pooling in my lower abdomen, so hot it rivaled my change. I could feel Hoseok pulsing inside of me, his grip on my hair still hard and strong. Then he tugged, my head lifting off the bed as he manhandled me. He forced our mouths together, a clashing of teeth and tongue as he chased his own high. Time began to slow before fading, the fire all consuming, and I could no longer respond to Hoseok’s kisses. He let go of me then and I fell back onto the bed.

Everything faded into white, hot, searing sparks shooting up my entire body and licking my bones on their way out. I could vaguely hear the sound of something being torn as my body convulsed with the weight of my orgasm. Above me, Hoseok stuttered.

“I love you,” He said, his own pleasure closing in.

I hardly paid him any attention. Our kind would never tire, never sleep, or sweat, but I was positive I was at least two of them at this moment. I felt like I was in a trance as I watched him fall apart, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth agape. His grunts and groans were more like cries now, higher and pitch and breathless. Then, with one final thrust he was spilling into me.

We stayed that way for a while, Hoseok inside of me as we looked into one another's eyes. Neither one of us was particularly tired but I knew we would take a break before our next round. The both of us enjoyed the human charade of cuddling and pretending to sleep for a time. Eyes closed and breathing evenly before finally one of us would break. Outside a particularly loud rumble made him grin.

“How would dancing in the rain sound?” He asked.

I laughed, heart full now that he was here.

“What kind of dancing?” I teased, already knowing my answer.

“Well, it will not require clothing.”

I pushed him away, sending his body back toward the other side of the room. With a wicked grin, Hoseok jumped to catch me, but I was already gone. If Hoseok was the strongest, I was the fastest. I ran down the hall, into my father's study, and out of the window with Hoseok fast on my trail.

My change had always seemed so meaningless before Hoseok came. Years spent wondering Louis’s reasoning and subsequent abandonment. I had never seen nor heard from either Louis or my mother since that night, and that left so much time for me to grow angry and bitter about this life. I hated what I was and who I was forced to be.

Now, running in with Hoseok in the afterglow of our love I realized something that would cause a third change within me. Everything that had led me up to this moment was worth it. All of the pain, loneliness, and heartache I had gone through was not a curse. It was a precursor. Every memory leading to the very reason for my existence closer still. A smile stretched across my face, one of my rarest, largest of smiles, and I let Hoseok catch me.

As long as he was here, nothing else mattered.

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waywardxwords · 30 days

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Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, slight language

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

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A quick glance at the clock on the wall made you inwardly groan–how could it only be 11:23 in the morning? Work days were known to drag on, but this was overkill. You figured it might have something to do with the fact that you were just hours away from seeing Dean again. It had taken you far too long to fall asleep the night before; you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss.

The way his lips felt against yours…the way it made you feel inside…

The buzz from your cell phone distracted you and shook you from your thoughts.

Dean Hey, Atlanta.

You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the nickname. Another buzz caught you off guard.

Dean Or should I say, Hotlanta?

The text made you laugh out loud, which would have been fine had you been alone somewhere. Instead, colleagues that you hardly knew in this new office all turned to look at you.

“Sorry about that,” you said softly as you excused yourself from the cubicle you had borrowed. You wandered to the hallway and stood there as you typed back a response.

Hi, Dean…you’re ridiculous, but that still made me laugh anyway.

You nibbled on a pesky hangnail that had formed on your thumb as you waited for his text back.

Dean I do what I can. You still up for dinner tonight?

You hurriedly typed back before you hit ‘send’ and waited for his response.

100% yes! I can leave here at 4, but I’m driving to you this time. Just send me the address and I’ll meet you there. Besides, Salina isn’t really a lively city…

It didn’t take long for your phone to vibrate against the palm of your hand.

Dean Just wait til you see Lebanon…

Dean had sent you the name to his favorite burger joint just outside of Lebanon. As you drove through the small Kansas towns, you felt the flutter in your stomach all over again. You really couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited to spend time with someone new. It was overwhelming, almost. Before you arrived, you decided to make a pit stop and pick up a cherry pie—Dean had mentioned pie was his favorite dessert.

Just before 7pm, you pulled into the parking lot for Jiffy Burger. It reminded you of something out of the 50s; a diner, almost. It was cute, and definitely something you could appreciate. In the dating world, not that you spent a lot of time in it due to your focus on your career, there always seemed to be this draw to fancy restaurants where you never knew what fork to use.

Thankfully, it seemed like Dean wasn’t interested in that kind of thing. Especially since he referred to the side salad you almost ordered in Atlanta as “rabbit food”.

As soon as you parked, you spotted the Impala. You gathered your purse and the pie you had brought, and headed inside.

A smile stretched across Dean’s face as soon as he saw you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled from your face down your chest to your legs. Heat pooled in your chest and cheeks as you suddenly felt slightly self conscious under his gaze. With your free hand, you tugged at the hem of your black blazer, but managed a smile back at him as you approached the table.

“Hey,” you breathed as you finally reached him.

“Hey, yourself,” he smirked. He stood and with one hand, he reached behind you and pulled you closer to him. It felt exactly like you would imagine a puzzle piece would as it melded with the other. “What’s this?” His question pulled you out of your thoughts.

You glanced down at the white grocery bag in your hand. “Oh!” You set it down on the table and opened it up to reveal the pastry you had purchased at the nearest bakery. “I know you said how much you love pie…” you gently held it up in the foil container. “I wasn’t sure which flavor you liked best, but I felt like I couldn’t go wrong with cherry.”

He seemed truly surprised. “Damn, woman,” he breathed as his eyes grazed over the dessert. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” His words were so genuine, and he sealed it by leaning down and giving you a gentle kiss that only made you want more.

“You’re welcome,” beaming, you felt accomplished as Dean pulled back the metal diner chair for you to sit. “This place is so cute!” You glanced around at the neon lights on the wall, red and white checkered designs and servers dressed like they had stepped out of the 50s.

“They have the best burgers I’ve ever had,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “And trust me, I’ve tried ‘em all.” As he settled back in his chair, his eyes found the plastic grocery bag again. “I seriously can’t believe you brought me pie.”

“It can’t be that hard to believe,” you emphasized as you watched him. “I’m sure I’m not the first girl to bring you a pie…” you trailed off as you watched him contemplate.

After a pause, “Nah, can’t say that’s happened before.”

It was a surprise to you; surely, you thought, Dean was a ladies’ man. He had all the markings of one, anyway: the leather jacket, woodsy vibe, muscle car…

“You’re kidding,” you couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice.

Dean chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart. You are definitely the first.”

His words were gentle, but true—you could tell. A small tug pulled at the corners of your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised,” you said carefully as the waitress approached your table.

“Hi there, my name’s Alice. What can I get ya, doll?” She smiled at you with a grin that reminded you of how an aunt or grandmother might.

“I’ll have water, please. I’ll just take a minute to look over the menu,” you smiled back.

She nodded and turned to Dean. “You still doing alright, love? Need a refill or anything?” While her tone had been pleasant and kind with you, it really softened when she addressed Dean. It made you smirk. It only validated further that he was certainly a ladies’ man.

“Nah, I’m alright, Alice,” he smiled back. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You could’ve sworn you saw Alice swoon, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. “How was work today?” Dean asked as he turned his attention back to you.

“Ugh,” you groaned, the smile completely gone from your face. “Same shit, different day, I guess.” You mumbled. Dean seemed interested so you continued. “I just landed a new project. It’s a new client, so there are a lot of growing pains.” You explained. “But it could always be worse, right?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said as he took a drink of his soda. “The more you talk about your job, the more miserable it sounds.”

“Doing what I love doesn’t pay the bills, Dean,” you sighed but found a small smile again. “We can’t all be traveling exterminators.” You winked.

Dean chuckled with a look down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, but then back to you. “Well, what is it that you love?” The way his eyes stared back into yours made your breath get caught in your throat. It was as if he wanted to see you—who you were, not just at face value, but deeper than that.

You took a moment to gather yourself before you continued. “I love writing. I always have. I tried applying it to a career, actually,” your mind wandered for a moment as you remembered the girl you used to be all those years ago. Your gaze found Dean’s once more. He noted the slight sadness that had appeared there. “It just didn’t work out.”

Alice had returned with your water now, and you heard her voice ask if you were ready to order.

“Go ahead,” you smiled at Dean. “I won’t take long.” You quickly spanned the menu as Dean ordered some burger meal in the background.

After he was done, Alice turned to you. You ordered a bacon burger and tater tots. Alice smiled at you both.

“I’ll get that out in no time,” she said. “You two need anything else?” You both shook your heads ‘no’.

“I think that’ll do it, thanks, Alice,” a smile pulled at Dean’s lips once more.

You noticed the way Alice’s red manicured fingers touched Dean’s shoulder. “You just let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all…” she trailed off with a wink.

You pressed your lips together to contain the laugh that threatened to bubble up at how blatantly she was flirting with Dean. He didn’t seem to notice, or at least, didn’t bring any attention to it.

Once she had walked away, you noticed Dean’s gaze had returned to you. You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before you spoke again.

“So, what about you? I’m genuinely curious about this traveling exterminator business you’ve got going on,” the words felt a little silly as they came from your lips, but you were being honest. Ever since Dean had mentioned it, you were curious. Dean chuckled softly as he broke eye contact. He ran his palms down the thighs of his jeans before he looked back up. You weren’t sure, but you would have thought he looked nervous, which seemed odd to you. “Seriously, how do you love being an exterminator? And why is it the ‘family business’?” You used your fingers to air-quote the way he had referenced it before.

Dean shrugged slightly as it was his turn to take a gulp of his water. “Well,” he started slowly. “My, uh, my mom died when I was really young. I was four and my brother, Sammy, was six months old.” He explained. That was something you hadn’t been expecting and your eyes widened. You had somewhat assumed Dean’s parents may be deceased or out of the picture from the way he spoke of it just being him and his brother when you were in Atlanta.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you knew to say. Dean’s forearms rested on the table now as he spoke. On instinct, you reached across and placed your hand just over his. “That’s awful. How did she…?” You trailed off, unsure if that was a question you should even ask or if he would be comfortable talking about it.

“There was a house fire,” he explained softly. His eyes looked down at his lap. “But, uh, after that my dad kinda had a hard time.” Understandable, you thought to yourself but kept quiet to let him continue. “We ended up on the road a lot. My dad met up with my, uh, my Uncle Bobby,” he seemed to hesitate, but you still kept silent to allow him to work through what he needed or wanted to say. “They started up this traveling exterminator business. They’d pick up jobs to help people out. My dad just didn’t want to stay in one place too long, so we moved around a lot.”

It still seemed wild and wasn’t anything you were familiar with, but now understanding the loss of his mom made it easier to absorb.

“I can’t imagine,” you shook your head as you looked down to where your hand still covered his. You pulled it back gently. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, Dean.”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Dean cleared his throat and it felt like he had almost pulled himself out of his feelings as he sat back in his chair. A smaller smile crossed his face. “We’ve all got stuff. We just gotta go through it, I guess.”

While you appreciated his ability to pull through it, you knew there were probably some underlying feelings there. Your mind wandered back for a moment and pulled out something he had said in the hotel in Atlanta to you: he’s terrified of being afraid.

It started to make sense. He was afraid of being afraid: at four, he lost his mother in a horrible tragedy. And by the sounds of it, he may have lost his father because he didn’t know how to be a parent in the face of tragedy. When he told you it was just him and his brother, he had meant it. Who wouldn’t be afraid of being afraid after living through something like that?

“Here you are,” Alice reappeared with a sing-songy tune as she placed your burgers down in front of you.

“Looks great,” Dean smiled down at his plate. You felt a twinge of sadness for him and all that he had been through, but you pushed it aside just as he did.

“It really does, thank you,” you smiled back at Alice. But her eyes weren’t on you, they were all over Dean.

“My pleasure, hun,” she practically swooned. “And I mean it, you let me know if you need anything else.” How many times has she said that now? You matched Dean’s smile.

“Thanks,” Dean said as she nodded and turned to walk away with a long glance over her shoulder.

It took everything in you to contain the laugh that threatened to emerge, the thoughts of your previous conversation fading. Alice walked back to the kitchen and Dean looked at you with a clear “what?” look plastered on his face.

“Oh, nothing,” you smirked before you took a sip of your water. “It’s just that I bet you could get whatever you wanted with a charm like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean rolled his eyes, but still smiled, as he shrugged it off.

“I’m serious. All it takes is a little bat of those lashes and she’s putty in your hands,” you teased.

Dean leaned forward with his forearms flat on the table, his hands clasped in front of him. His face was close again—it reminded you of the Longhorn in Atlanta when he was so close, you felt like you could count the freckles that dotted his face. “And what about you, sweetheart? You turn to putty, too?” The playful grin that tugged across his lips made your stomach flutter.

You leaned back a bit and took another drink from your water—it was for two reasons, really. It gave you a minute to gather your words, but it also cooled you off from the flame that burned so obviously in front of you.

“Oh, no,” you quipped, as you attempted to seem unphased. The flirtatious notes from your tone came through, and Dean picked them up–the way his lips crept up in a small smile gave him away. “I’m immune.” A shrug raised your shoulders but you couldn’t help the pull of your lips as you caught the way Dean’s eyes glinted back at you.

“We might just have to test that theory,” his comment made you slightly inhale the bite of your burger you had just consumed. Thankfully, your sputtering only lasted a second, but the gig was up and your cover had been blown. The heat that rose in your cheeks gave away that your stoic demeanor was just a ruse, and Dean was completely aware.

There was something about the way his lips still curved upward, but his eyes bore into you–they were dark, but in a way that felt almost like you were caught in an electrical storm; the little hairs at the back of your neck stood to attention and goosebumps bubbled over your skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dean?” Your voice was low now, your eyes trained on his. As flustered as he had gotten you just a moment before, you forced yourself to stay strong as you stared straight back at him without even a blink.

Without missing a beat, the muscle in his jaw clenched as he bit down with his teeth. The familiar upward curve up his lip made the dimple in his cheek pop as his eyes moved between your eyes and your lips. “Is it working?”

And just like that, you felt like putty in the man’s damn hands.

A/N: Well, hellllllo, Tumblr world! I know, it has been far too long. Things in my life are still hectic, BUT I'm back! I have missed all my reader friends, writer friends and writing in general.

I can't promise double updates each week (but I will when I can). Otherwise, new chapters will be posted on Thursdays moving forward.

I hope you all are well, and I hope you enjoy chapter 4!

PREVIEW OF THE NEXT CHAPTER:

You had never consumed (nor had you seen someone consume) a burger so quickly before in your life. It was a good burger, but that wasn’t what you could focus on.

When Alice came back to the table to check out–ahem, on–you (but mostly Dean), his gaze didn’t even move from yours.

“We’ll take the check now, Alice,” he said carefully as he watched you. The way his eyes studied you made you feel naked. It was like nothing else existed in the world but you. Heat climbed your chest in blotchy patches until they formed puzzle pieces on your neck, your cheeks. The way your heart pounded against your sternum felt so loud, you could hear each beat in your ears. This man was doing something to you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in too long.

“Here you go, sugar,” Alice gingerly placed the bill in the middle of the table. She watched Dean intently, certainly hoping for maybe one more look into those beautiful green eyes. He glanced quickly with a smile as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He tossed enough cash to cover the meal and the tip on the table, then back to you.

“Thanks, Alice,” he said, without missing another beat. He stood and held his hand out for you to take. “You wanna get outta here?”

Words seemed to fail you for a second, so you just nodded very quickly. Before he could pull you towards the door, he grabbed the grocery bag with the cherry pie you had brought.

“Oh, you forgot to eat your pie,” you murmured as you followed him through the diner.

“I was thinking we might have a different dessert tonight,” he paused at the door as his eyes looked over you once more. You realized he was asking if that’s what you wanted, too. Yet again, all you could do was nod.

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shadowtail32 · 1 year

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Domestic (Dean x Reader)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Just a little moment between Dean and Y/n after a hunt.

Y/n grumbled as she flopped down on the cheap and lumpy bed of their hotel room, “Never again.” She groaned aloud into the musty covers under her body. “Oh come on Y/n it wasn’t that bad,” Dean called from behind her as he closed the door behind him. “I have never hated anything more in my entire life than digging an entire grave by hand only to find out the damn thing is empty.” She hissed removing her face from the comfort of the blankets to glare at him. Dean sighed leaning back against the closed door holding his hands up in surrender. “How was I supposed to know the grave was empty.” He spoke loudly as he returned his own heated glare at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes, forcing her tired body into a sitting position so she could look at him head-on. “I never said it was your fault,” She began crossing her arms over her chest as she placed her feet flat on the floor wincing when she realized that she had neglected to remove her muddy boots from her feet. “I just said I would not be doing that again.” She elaborated with a sigh as she began untying her boots.

Dean’s only response was a hum and nod as he pushed his body up and away from the door, “Fair enough.” He muttered tiredly as he sank into the bed across from her. “Help.” She asked with a pout as she held up her foot toward him. Dean sighed though he could not hide the soft smile that began to form on his lips. “Sure.” He breathed rolling his eyes as he took her offered foot in his hands and began untying them. “Thank you.” She mumbled offering him a small smile as she leaned to the side on her hand.

“Any word from Sam?” She asked after a moment of silence as she watched him work slowly and carefully unlacing the boot. Dean hummed shaking his head a small frown took over his lips. “Not yet.” He answered shortly as he gently pulled the boot from her foot, placing it on the floor at the side of the bed. Y/n hummed placing her bootless foot on the ground, lifting the other into the air. “I’m sure he is just enjoying himself.” She spoke with a small shrug as she watched him repeat the previous actions with the other foot.

Dean chuckled shaking his head taking a moment to look at her before looking back down at her foot in his hands. “You think good old college boy Sam is really going to let loose and enjoy himself in a bar?” He asked the laughter clear in his voice as he pulled the boot off and placed it on the ground next to its partner, though he placed her foot on his knee resting his hand on her ankle.

“Yes, I mean he can’t be college boy Sam all the time.” She said laying back on the bed with a soft sigh as he began lightly messaging her foot. “You never know,” She began in a teasing tone a yawn interrupting her thoughts for a moment. “He may even end up going home with a girl.” Y/n whispered in a conspiratorial tone a small smile making itself known on her lips as her eyes began to droop another yawn forcing its way past her lips.

Y/n listened as Dean began to laugh, “That would be something.” He managed to get out between bellowing laughs, “Want to make a bet?” He asked as he stood up from his bed gently picking up her other foot, turning her lower body until all of her was laying comfortably on the bed on top of the covers. "How much?” She asked as she allowed her eyes to fully close with a soft sigh. “Twenty bucks” He answered softly as he climbed in next to her pulling her to him until her back was flush against his chest.

“Deal.” She mumbled back as she allowed herself to fall into the sweet darkness of sleep.

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean x OC #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #imagine #supernatural imagine #reader insert

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jdms-flat-ass · 4 months

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Big dick energy leads to big dick injury. Call 1-800-BIG-DICK

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raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 2 months

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SPN MASTERLIST

Not taking reqs for Supernatural currently cause I’m writing a series for y’all to enjoy!

we could be more | dean winchester (COMPLETED)

“And promise me… that you won’t blame yourself.”

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | FINALE

IVY’S FLAWS | 1

𝖕𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖕 | 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

Summary: “She’s like you’ve been pistolwhipped.” He bit his lip angrily. “Hits you right in the head and makes it spin. I used to hate it. But now? I’ve turned out like every other guy; had one hit of her and… I’m addicted. So yeah, pretty much.”

PLAYLIST | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | FINALE | Epilogue

𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚂 | 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

#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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crazyinluvfix · 11 days

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PROLOGUE

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

a/n: this is just the intro ! future parts will be longer, that’s where the story really begins ;)

series masterlist

1.8k words

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Beacon Hills was supposed to be a sanctuary from all things supernatural.

After what felt like over a century (because it was), Sera Salvatore needed a break.

Which was admittedly a little hypocritical considering she herself was a vampire, but she was desperate for an escape from all the drama and chaos that her family - namely her brothers - had brought to Mystic Falls. So she decided to start afresh, again.

After only one year of living back in her hometown, she picked up and went to the furthest most point in the continental United States, which just so happened to land her here. From Georgia, all the way to sunny California. It would be a nice change.

She was fortunate enough that she could pass as quite young whenever she settled in a new place. With the help of makeup, clothing, and a healthy amount of dishonesty she managed to blend into freshman year at Beacon Hills High without anyone even batting an eye.

It was now one year ago today that she had started her first day, which turned out to be a breeze.

January 3rd, 2010

“You’re humiliating,” I expressed my annoyance flatly as I stood by the door, waiting for my brother to let go of my jacket that he had been straightening before I left the house.

He patted my shoulder with a motherly smile as if he was sending his child off to kindergarten, then took a step back to play the role further.

“Have you got everything?” he asked as he nodded to my bag.

I let out a breathy chuckle. I didn’t hate him as much as I let on… mostly.

“I packed you a blood bag for lunch,” he continued, that smirk of his right at home on his smug face - never a dull moment.

My hand reached for my keys on the side table as I walked backward towards the door, shaking my head to stop my lips from forming a smile of their own. “How thoughtful,” I retorted sarcastically.

But just as I was about to step outside I stopped to say one last thing, “Thanks for helping me move in and all,” my tone was much more genuine than it typically was when speaking to him, but I really was grateful.

Moving across the country would’ve been infinitely harder without his company on the road, and without being able to play the little sister card and sit back while he does the heavy lifting. But… and I would never admit it… but even now, starting a new school was just as scary as it always has been and a part of me liked that I had my big brother there to see me off.

I quickly cut our sappy little chat short with another comment, “But, I expect you to be gone when I get home.” I arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

He was definitely the fun brother, but with fun comes impulsivity - a trait that must be genetic, and must have skipped my twin - and with impulsivity comes a long string of ‘animal attacks’. And that was exactly the drama in question that I wanted to escape, so I had brought along a surplus of blood bags to hold me until I found a more permanent solution.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be out within the hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya,” I said finally as I stepped outside, hiding from the brisk winter cold in the confines of my leather jacket.

My words were met with another smile and a nod from my brother before he spoke again. “Tell me how it went when you’re home.” The protective mother was back. But this time, it wasn’t just a joke, he was lucky we had no witnesses since he’d hate to ruin his tough-guy persona.

I almost laughed at him again, but I didn’t. As humans me and my brothers were incredibly close, but over time that faded. Me and our other brother never really settled that, but over the past year back in Mystic Falls me and the eldest fell back into old patterns.

“I will,” I gave in with a joking eye-roll. “Bye Damon,” I waved his way.

“Bye Seffie,” he returned, getting a kick out of my suddenly sour face.

Seffie. A nickname he saddled me with at the age of 4 and has stuck with me ever since. But my real name was a mouthful, so I chose to go by Sera - a fact Damon will insist on disregarding for the rest of our eternal lives.

As I walked away my once friendly hand gesture turned into a middle finger as I heard him laugh behind me and shut the door as I made my way to my new school.

The moment I stepped foot in the doors I noticed some heads turn, some overheard whispers from passers-by that fuelled my ego just that bit more as I walked up to reception and signed in.

First-period English went smoothly, then it was History which ironically was focused on the confederacy (not me and my siblings' proudest fight). And it was safe to say the teacher was thoroughly impressed with my knowledge on the subject, little did he know I quite literally lived it.

But after class was when my day took a turn.

“1076, 1076,” I repeated under my breath as I went to scour the halls for my new locker, but the break rush made my search all the more difficult with what felt like a million people charging around.

But finally, I seemed to be in luck as I read the numbers to my right; 1080, 1079, 1078, 1077, and…

Crash.

I took a deep breath and a frustrated sigh at the smug-faced, blond jock who had just practically booked it into my side, knocking all of my books out of my hands, and causing me to jump at the deafening sound of them hitting the tile floor. ‘Great,’ I thought satirically. The prick didn’t even bother to look back! Let alone be kind enough to help me pick them back up again.

But someone else did. In fact, two other boys seemed to have played witness and immediately came scrambling up to my side.

“Hey, uh-” the one with darker features and a crooked jawline, giving him a somewhat goofy smile stuttered, stopping after his friend who stood politely next to him not-so-subtly jabbed him in the side with his elbow, causing him to bring a hand to it and shoot his friend a glare.

“What he meant to say was, do you want a hand with that?” The slightly taller friend with the buzzed brown hair asked after his friend's failure to do so.

I could do nothing but laugh slightly at both of their clear excitement and reply with a smile, “I’d love one.”

Picking up books was a simple task that I most definitely could’ve done myself in probably half the time, but nothing compared to watching them both drop to the floor and bat at each other's hands in a frantic competition to ‘help the most.’ My smile grew wider and I brought a hand up to rest on my forehead. This was already a refreshing change since none of the boys back home would have ever done the same.

Soon, they both stood back up in front of me, proud looks on both of their faces as they put the books in my open locker for me.

“Thank you,” I chuckled in response.

“No problem,” the more hyper one added before quickly speaking again at a constant, lightning pace. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he gestured to himself, “and this is my buddy, Scott,” his hand moved over to pat the other boy on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles and Scott,” I nodded back at them, still trying to bite back an amused grin, “I’m Sera.”

“You’re new here right?” Scott spoke again with an innocent look of pure curiosity.

I put my hands together behind my back and rocked on my heels slightly, “Mhm, started this morning,” a somewhat nervous chuckle left my lips, which the one called Stiles seemed to pick up on because he quickly interjected.

“I mean, we’d be happy to show you ‘round if you wanna hang with us,” he offered, a hopeful shrug on his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

“Wouldn’t we, Scott,” he then batted the back of his hand against his friend’s arm, glaring at him to respond.

Scott quickly blinked and nodded rapidly, “Oh, yeah, of course.”

I bit my lip in contemplation, they did seem awfully nice. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go to the office quickly, but maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later,” my counter seemed to be accepted without a second thought as I studied their expressions.

When I stepped backward I noticed how they didn’t leave just yet, so I said, “Bye boys, I’ll see you around,” with a small wiggle of my fingers as a wave.

“See you around, Sera,” Stiles repeated as he and Scott both mimicked my step back, his hand raising up to do a little salute before we turned our backs to each other.

I could not help the quiet giggle that escaped my mouth after I was out of their eyeline, but I also could not help but hear what they were saying to each other down the hall.

“Why the fuck did you salute?” Scott whispered, hitting Stiles back in retaliation for earlier.

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Stiles replied slightly panicked.

My smile grew. What idiots.

As for the conversation with the receptionist, it went smoothly with a little help from my immaculate ‘people skills’.

“I’m sorry but we insist on transcripts. And your immunisation records seem to be missing,” the lady said, peering over her glasses as she looked through my files.

My sigh was followed by me leaning forward, looking into her eyes as I watched her pupils dilate - she just had to make this more difficult.

“Please look again, I’m sure you’ll find everything you’re looking for.” A proud smirk laced my lips as she did exactly that, nodding and sending me on my way. Too easy.

During lunch, I did end up joining the boys at their table, taking a seat next to Stiles and definitely not missing the wide-eyed look he gave to Scott, along with his stuttered breath as I leaned over him to reach my pen that had rolled across the table.

The portrayal of vampires in Twilight had always annoyed me due to its incredible inaccuracy, but it was beyond amusing how easy it was for me to read their minds, even without special powers.

That day had ended with new numbers in everyone’s phones and Sera scoring a new ride to school and back every day in her new friend’s beaten-up old Jeep (which she thought had enough charm to distract from the deafening sound it made when running).

And from that moment forward, the three were inseparable.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you enjoyed !

this was basically to just tell you what to expect from the rest of the series. might not post it all on here unless you want me to so check out my ao3 and wattpad ( @crazyinluvfix ) like and comment x

└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘

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deanoheartspie · 11 months

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SUN•SHINE COMING SOON!!

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: smut, cussing, angst.

Taglist: (Open!!)

Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

•°•°•°•°•SNEAK PEAK°•°•°•°•°•°

“You look beautiful in that dress darlin' Gimmie a little spin” Dean has a boyish grin, while he leans against the old bed frame.

Giving the cowboy a little spin, with a laugh escaping your lips as you tilt your fake imaginary cowgirl hat. “Y'know I could always give ya' a hat” He stands up, the floorboards creaking at every step he takes while he looks over at his hats deciding on a nice plain white one.

“Why the white one?” You ask, with a hint of a smile knowing he had to grow through his whole process of deciding which one to give you.

“Because after tonight darlin', your gonna be my bride”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester series #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #Cowboy dean winchester #dean x oc #supernatural dean #dean x you #dean winchester masterlist #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #castiel x reader

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boywifesammy · 2 months

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i used to cringe at self-shippers when i was younger, but now that i have transitioned i have to apologize because i totally get it. of course i want stanford sam to make eye contact with me across a bar and then take me home to his rundown flat to have nasty gay sex. sorry. turns out teenage me didn’t actually have valid fandom critique it was just the internalized transphobia 👍 my bad guys

#oc #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #x reader #male reader #fandom meta #sometimes u have to look yourself in the eyes and ask yourself:#is it really cringe or are YOU the cringe one up on your high horse ?#anyway. someone needs to go back and shake teenage me and just scream ITS NOT WOMEN ITS YOU!!! ITS YOU !!!!!

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misschris1412 · 1 year

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#dean winchester x oc #Joseph Morgan #Jensen Ackles #hayley marshall #pheobe tonkin #klaus mikaelson x oc #vampire diaries #the originals #supernatural #fanfiction supernatural #fanfiction #Elizabeth Olsen #elizabeth olsen crackship #Shailene Woodley #oc x supernatural

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months

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Supernatural harem darling should give their boys (and Mad) weed.... I think Mad might freak out a lil on their first go, but they'd get through it so long as darling is with them and it would become a good stress reliever for them at times. Baron would be the kinda guy that would say he needs more to feel anything being a giant behemoth of a demon - only to lose his mind once everything he took kicks in.

Al....Al is either deceased or has already been poping edibles behind everyone's back to deal with Baron's and remains the calmest of the group. IDK which is funnier.

Jeremiahh would be even more of a corpse just from darling blowing smoke in his face

#yandere oc #yandere #supernatural harem #yandere x reader #Baron my oc #Maddox my oc #Alasdair my oc #Jeremiah my oc #weed mention

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 3 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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waywardxwords · 5 months

Text

Taking Chances

Series Warnings: Language, smut (eventually, so this series is 18+ only). Some others may appear. Warnings will be listed at the top of each chapter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

This was born out of the one shot I wrote in October called Rules were meant for Breaking. This story doesn't follow along with any specific timeline or storyline from Supernatural, and there will be things that differ in this story than what took place on the show.

Chapter 1 - Rules Were Meant for Breaking

Chapter 2 - Nothing to Lose

Chapter 3 - We'll Always Have Atlanta

Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie

Chapter 5 - Last Names

Chapter 6 - Demons, Spirits and Angels, Oh My!

Chapter 7 - We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Chapter 9 - Stay (4/25)

Chapter 10 - Call Me Yours

Chapter 11 - Tell Me I'm Gonna Be Okay

Chapter 12 - We're All Afraid Sometimes

Chapter 13 - Home

A/N: It feels so good to be starting up a new series, I've missed writing the last few weeks! Updates will be made every Thursday!

Want to join the Tag List? Click here!

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female oc #dean winchester x ofc #taking chances #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #spn fan fiction #spn fan fic

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topofmythighs · 1 year

Text

burning into my mind

sam winchester x female reader

rundown: reader forgets pjs, sexy sam saves the day

warnings: none

word count: 3,759

my masterlist

gif cred:: cantscrubitclean on tumblr

dean pulls into the parking lot just as slowly as her eyes open. every action shared between the three hunters feels - and probably looks - like it’s in slow motion. the hunt tonight was particularly rough, involving two witches who would not give up until they got what they wanted. and what they wanted was sam.

thankfully, he sits in the passenger seat of the impala and readjusts as he notices they’re all back at the motel. he slowly clambers out of the car, hearing a soft yawn slip past her lips. everyone’s limbs feel like they’re a thousand miles long, especially as they try to regain feeling in their legs to get out of the car. dean’s the first to grab his duffle bag from the trunk, sam following.

he grabs hers, too. without a word, the three of them saunter to the motel room door, thankful for the beds - no matter how uncomfortable they truly were.

dean drops onto one of the beds face-first, his jacket and jeans still on. his legs hang off the bed a little, as he’s not fully laying at the top of the bed. he lets out a large groan into the mattress. sam looks back at her as she closes and locks the door, smiling to herself at dean’s expression.

“hated that,” dean’s muffled voice whines.

sam’s eyes widen while he sits at the end of the other bed, taking his boots off. “dude,” he starts. “you weren’t the one being converted into some creepy witch cult.”

dean turns his head out from the mattress to glare at sam. “i walked into that creepy-ass building and lost my gun in two seconds to those bitches,” he complains.

sam’s mouth opens, offended that dean is even trying to win this battle. “dude!” he repeats. “witch cult! minutes away from being their little snack!”

“snack?” she ponders. both men turn to look at her. her head is propped up by her hand as she sits at the uncomfortable wooden table, and her eyes are closed. “you were gonna be their bitch boy, sammy,” she comments, half asleep.

dean lets out a one-note laugh, but she can tell he is mere seconds away from retaliating to sam to claim he’s right. she interrupts dean. “that doesn’t mean you win, dean. “bitch boy witch cult” beats “wah, i lost my gun because of magic”.”

she opens her eyes to see dean huff and stuff his face back into the mattress, and sam smiles over at her. she sends a wink his way, making him laugh with his body. she slowly sits up, stretching her body and cracking whatever joints she can.

“i’m gonna hit the hay,” she says. “i am ready for this day to be over.” dean’s hand fist pumps in the air in solidarity and quickly slaps back down onto the bed.

sam chuckles softly, “i’ll walk you to your room.”

she smiles, grabbing her duffle bag. “goodnight dean,” she says, and he only replies with a grunt. sam closes the door behind them, immediately taking her bag from her and carrying it himself.

“you don’t need to do that,” she says.

he looks down at her as they walk, the smooth concrete feeling cool on his sock-clad feet. “i know.”

her room is only three doors down from the boys, but her heart warm-up at sam’s chivalry. she unlocks the door, happy to feel the warm air of the room. sam rests the bag on the ground, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets. he watches her intently as she ties up her hair, takes off her jacket, and improperly takes her boots off. he wants nothing more than to lay down in that bed beside her under the blanket she brought from home and to feel her body close against his.

she looks at him and smiles. “you okay, sammy?”

he comes to, shaking his head. “yeah. yeah, sorry. just, umm,” he pauses, trying to play his staring off the best he can. “just a long day. tired is all.”

she walks closer to him, and he thinks it’s just to be close to him, but she’s only picking her bag up off the floor. he kicks himself for thinking she was coming near him for him.

“i get that, sammy,” she says, placing her bag on the bed. “i’m sorry today’s hunt was so difficult. if you’re shaken up, you can talk to me about it,” she offers, turning her head to him and smiling. she begins going through her bag as he talks.

“i appreciate it,” he begins, “but you know i’m not one for spilling how i feel and making it everyone else’s problem.”

“you’re not making anything anyone’s problem,” she mutters without a second in between his words. “fuck,” she whispers, erratically digging through her bag.

“what’s wrong?” sam asks, hands still deep in his pockets, looking awkward as ever.

“just, ugh,” she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, exhaustion taking over her body. “i forgot pyjamas.” she instinctually cracks her knuckles, frustrated with herself.

sam frowns at her. “take a shower,” he says kindly. she looks at him oddly, as if he didn’t just hear her. “i have, uhm,” he mumbles. “just shower, i’ll find you something to wear.”

she smiles at him, rubbing her hands over her face again. she sighs, and there’s silence in the room. he notices that she’s trying to collect herself, trying not to blow up. she’s exhausted, he can see it in the way she’s keeping her shoulders up. he swears, if he could, he would wrap her up in his arms, put on her favourite movie, and let her bitch about the day. he knows he can’t - they’re close, but not that close - but oh god, does he want to.

he shakes his head to be-rid his trance. “shower, please. and lock this door. i’ll be back over in, let’s say, twenty, yeah?”

she nods and walks over slowly to the door to lock it when he leaves. he opens the door, and she watches as he ducks through it, eliciting butterflies in her that she tries to ignore. she locks the door and continues to watch him through the window, unable to stop. she breathes in deeply and decides to shower, while sam is in his and dean’s room, searching through his duffle bag.

“what are you looking for?” dean asks. he rests against the headboard on the bed closest to the door, his legs crossed, and the tv remote in hand.

“uh,” sam starts, pinching his eyes together. “pjs, any sort of pjs.”

dean’s face contorts out of pure confusion. “context is cool.” sam stops digging through his bag when he finds a grey henley, a green zip-up, and a pair of black briefs. when he doesn’t answer his brother, dean continues. “the fuck are you doing, sammy? planning to go for a polar dip or something?”

“oh, uhm, no. she - she forgot pyjamas,” sam says shyly.

dean smirks, preparing to tease his brother for all eternity. “did she forget pyjamas, or did she “forget pyjamas”?” he asks, air quoting.

sam wads up his underwear and chucks it at dean, who lets out a merciless “ew!”

“who purposefully forgets pyjamas, dean?” sam asks sternly.

dean shrugs. “dunno, never forgotten my pyjamas before.”

sam rolls his eyes.

“but,” dean continues. “i have also never been in love with my roommate and hunting partner for years on end.”

sam whips his head around to dean, disregarding his neat folding that he’s doing. “dean, i told you not to fuck around with me about that.”

dean’s hands go up in defence. “i’m not fucking around with you, sammy. that chick,” he whistles, “has the H-O-T-S for you, man.”

sam rubs his neck. “dean,” he sighs, his eyebrows turning upwards in sadness. “she doesn’t like me like that. i know you think she does, but she doesn’t. if you had walked her to her room-“

“which wasn’t totally necessary.”

sam sighs again, flipping dean off then continuing, “she would’ve asked you for pjs too. so, can we please drop this so i can go and give that exhausted and adorable girl in the next room over some of my clothes so i can have the most confusing and irrational dreams ever tonight?!”

dean looks stunned at sam’s outburst, but ultimately chucks him a thumbs up. “go for it, kiddo.”

sam puffs his chest out, retrieving the thrown underwear from dean, and gathering the rest of the clothes. he checks his watch to make sure he’s on time, and of course, he is, so he shuts the door on his laughing brother and heads back down to her room.

he knocks lightly on her door, hoping she’s not in the shower and overthinking that something terrifying awaits her on the other side of the door.

she answers quickly, the motel room towel wrapped tightly around her. she smiles at sam, a small blush painted onto her face. she ushers him in, and he quickly sits on the foot of the bed.

“i, uh,” he stammers. “here. a hoodie, a long sleeve, and boxers. i don’t know if you need it all, or even want it all, but i couldn’t have you sleeping in those gnarly clothes, or be in here, and cold, and vulnerable, and-“

she sits next to him and wraps her arms around his chest, giving him a large hug. sam feels himself freeze, unsure if it was really happening.

“thank you, sammy,” she says, noticing he felt uncomfortable, and pulling away from him. her heart sinks, but she tries to convince herself it was just because she was still a little wet from the shower. he looks at her, and it takes everything in him not to melt from her sweet eyes. he hands her the clothes, and she heads to the bathroom to get changed.

“dumbass,” she says to the mirror, letting the towel drop as she changes into his clothes. she can’t believe she’s slipping on that worn-in grey henley and stepping into his boxers. she gently pushes her arms through the sleeves of the hoodie, half zipping it up, and staring at herself in the mirror for a little longer than she should’ve. the bright led lighting in the old, smoke-stained bathroom drowns out the blemishes on her face and the rosy blush on her cheeks. she brings the sweater up to her nose and takes a deep breath, smelling sam and only sam. she smiles to herself, but feels awkward and dumb for thinking this is anything more than borrowing a friend’s clothes. she sighs and shakes more of the water out of her hair with the towel before shutting the light off and leaving the bathroom.

sam sits in the same spot she left him, but now he’s flipping through the television channels.

“hey,” she says, and his head spins quickly to look at her. they smile at each other, blushes painting pink across their cheeks.

“hi,” sam whispers back. “you look, uhm,” he clears his throat. “comfy. you look comfy.”

“i am,” she whispers back. “thank you again, sammy.”

sam nods and pats the bed next to her so she can sit. she sits next to him then lets her body fall back onto the bed. her tops shrink up her body a bit, enough for sam to notice the skin of her tummy. it looks soft, smooth, and warm, and it’s taking a lot of self-control for sam not to reach out and touch it. her eyes are closed, so sam feels less creepy for staring at her. he smiles to himself, his chin resting against his shoulder as he looks back at the exhausted girls he longs to call his. she’s breathing deeply, trying to relax her body. he’s watched her do this a dozen times, but never in his clothes. his mind is racing - thoughts of how cute she looks in his clothes to how nice it would be to take them off of her. he clears his throat once more and readjusts.

she reaches her hand out to sam’s bicep, holding tight to pull herself back up. he swears he has goosebumps, so he’s glad he has a sweater on.

“d’you wanna watch a movie?” she asks, sitting upright again. “i know today was really long, so i get it if you don’t but, i dunno,” she mutters, playing with her fingers.

he nudges his body gently against hers. “what’s wrong?”

she sighs, looking up at him, then back down to her hands. she shrugs. “don’t know,” she whispers. sam bends down lower to hear her better, and she feels her heart beat faster. “came close to not comin’ home with you, bitch boy,” she says, trying to make the sentiment as lighthearted as possible.

sam huffs out a small laugh. “yeah, it was a close one today.” sam sees her nodding, and he can smell the remorse coming off of her. “but,” he continues, and she looks up at him again. he feels butterflies in his stomach when she holds eye contact this time. “i’m here, you’re here, de’s here. we’re gonna watch a movie, chill out, and we’ll just try to move past this, okay?”

she smiles at him, nudging him back. “thank you, sammy,” she replies. they stare at each other for a moment before she looks away, nervous the blush on her cheeks would intimidate him. “this is comfy,” she says, gesturing to her outfit.

sam smiles. “you look really cute.” he comments, immediately regretting it until his unprovoked words are followed by an adorable, girly giggle.

this feeling - the closeness, the looming scent of sam, the fictitiousness of it all - it’s a lot for both of them. both of their heads are spinning, drunk on fervour and starved of touch. their hearts are rhythmically beating to the sound of imagined love, lust, and connection; but, there’s some sort of dense, unbreakable wall that’s holding either of them back from blurting out what they’re feeling.

the sheer density of that wall creates a weight of awkwardness that is heavy on both of their chests, and their minds are scrambling to overcome it.

she scoots closer to sam, desperate to shake off that feeling. once again, her hands find his bicep, and she wraps her arms around it. she rests her head on his shoulder, letting her body depend on his to stay upright.

sam is convinced his heart has stopped, that this is somehow a lucid dream. he can’t let her initiate this closeness and not reciprocate it again, so takes his opposing hand and rubs her head. he takes it a step further as he hallucinates dean’s voice in his head telling him to “man up and show that girl you love her!” he kisses the top of her head, lingering for a second, before whispering, “everything’s okay. we’re all here. no one’s hurt. you’re safe.” her arms tighten around him at his sweet words and gestures, and she snuggles impossibly closer. he kisses the top of her head again, letting her know he’s still there. “uhm, if you lemme shower, i’ll smell a hundred times better. then we can watch a movie, yeah?” she nods against his arm. “i’ll be super quick.”

she lets go apprehensively, pulling away to see sam smiling down at her. sweet sam, the protector of all. “thank you, sammy.”

he nods, too. “find a movie, please. i’m gonna go, but i’ll be back as quick as possible.”

“take your time,” she says, aware that if she didn’t reply, he’d ramble his way out of the room.

he stands up, walking towards the door. “lock this,” he says before ducking again and leaving.

it all happened very quickly for sam, and as he walks back to his and dean’s room, he’s afraid he’s messed up again. he tries to move as quickly as he can as to not leave her waiting for long.

when he swoops through the door, dean becomes guarded, asking sam what’s wrong.

“nothing,” sam says, going through his bag one more time to grab his shower supplies and actual pyjamas.

“what’d you do to her, man?” dean asks, sipping his beer.

“nothing!” sam replies, looking up at dean, his hands full. “i didn’t do anything, de. i need to shower and get back to her, okay? so shut up and keep watching your shitty western movie.”

“hey!” dean yells defensively. “don’t take your shitty pick-up game out on my cowboys!”

“it’s not shitty!” sam yells back from the shower.

he can’t remember the last time he felt so rushed in the shower, but, he feels elated at the same time, so any anxiety he’s feeling from being rushed is immediately counteracted.

within minutes, he’s out of the shower, drying off, and changes into blue flannel pyjamas, black boxers, and a large, oversized black long sleeve. he comes out of the bathroom as fast as he went in. he sits on the foot of his bed, putting on socks that he found in his bag and roughly slipping his feet into his black chuck taylor’s. they slam onto the brown carpeted floor as he wiggles his feet into them.

“remember earlier when i told you politely to not bring up the whole “unrequited love” thing?” sam asks, as he stands up.

“uh huh,” dean mumbles.

“can you do me a favour and bring it up right now? i don’t know if i’m overthinking right now, but you’re like, my automatic wingman, so you need to help me out.”

dean smiles, taking another swig of beer before looking at his dishevelled brother. “i promise you,” dean starts, “that girl is in love with you. from bro to bro, i want you happy, and i know she’s into you. wingman to a rookie?”

sam scoffs.

“i’m not setting you up for failure, sammy,” dean finishes. “i’m serious.”

sam sighs happily, smiling down at his shoes. “i’m gonna go back.”

“thatt’a boy!” dean cheers, and sam hushes him.

“i’ve got my key,” sam says. “so, don’t, like, shoot me when i come back tonight.”

“if,” dean winks.

sam rolls his eyes and leaves his room, briskly walking back to hers. he knocks on the door again, and he swears he feels some kind of deja vu.

she answers the door quickly, smiling at sam. “i haven’t decided on a movie yet.”

sam smiles too. “well let me in, and we’ll pick one out.”

they stand awkwardly near the bed before she asks, “do you, uhm,” she sighs. “d’you wanna sit together again?” her voice is meek, a tone sam often doesn’t hear from her.

he nods, scared that if he speaks, his voice will crack. he sits against the headboard, extending his legs down the bed. she does the same, making sure her blanket from home is spread out over both of them. there’s a significant gap between them as sam surfs through the channels for a movie.

“”she’s the man,” “the big stampede”,” sam lists.

she chuckles. “i bet dean’s watching that one.”

sam smiles and looks at her. “can confirm.”

she laughs again. “did you make sure to tease him about it?”

sam nods slyly, eliciting another giggle from her.

“well,” he mumbles, tired of flicking through the channels. “what do you wanna watch?”

she shrugs. “you could put on “the big stampede” for all i care.” her voice is quiet when she adds, “just wanna be here.”

sam’s smile widens, and his dimples are carved deep into his cheeks. he’s brave again and pulls her head gently toward him so he can lay another kiss there. “here,” he suggests. “come closer and get comfy.”

a deep blush fades onto her face once more, and she begins to play with the sleeves on the green zip-up sam loaned her. her lack of eye contact feeds the fire in sam’s stomach, and instead of waiting for her to do something, he wraps his large hands around her boxer-clad hips and slides her closer. he tucks her into his chest, and she immediately melts into him, burying her face into his chest. he continues to kiss her head, becoming more and more comical about it until she laughs at it. her hand makes its way around his neck, bringing them closer together and encouraging sam to trail his kisses down her face. she keeps laughing, so sam continues, hoping that his brother didn’t lead him astray. everything about this moment feels as natural as it is terrifying for both of them.

“sam,” she giggles out. he keeps kissing her face. “sam!”

he pulls away instantly, at least, as much as he can with her hand still playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. her eyes meet his.

“i need to tell you something,” she says, trying to adjust her body so she feels more serious.

sam nods. “me too.” he licks his lips, and he feels his anxiety spreading to his toes.

“i, uhm,” she says, looking at his lips and back up to his eyes. “i’m in love with you,” she whispers.

sam’s eyes widen, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. he adjusts her again, holding her hips and dragging her into his lap. she clings to his body like she’ll lose him if she lets go.

“not in the friend way, right?” he asks, using his fingers to make sure she looks at him in his eyes. her head shakes, and she bites her lip. sam smiles. “i’m in love with you, too. and not in the friend way either.”

she smiles and tucks her head into his neck as he wraps his arms around her. she presses small kisses on his neck, and he does the same to her.

"thank you, sammy," she whispers against his neck. he nods. "i was so scared today."

he gently shushes her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "i know, but i'm here. we're both here, and we're in love."

she pulls back from his neck, and he admires his clothes on her again. "in love."

he nods once more before placing his hand on her cheek. "can i kiss you?"

she smiles, nodding excitedly before leaning in to kiss him, something she's fantasized about for years.

"in love," she whispers against his lips.

he chuckles, finding the repetition adorable and comforting. "in love."

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