Supernatural X Reader - Blog Posts

Castiel x Reader

A cute oneshot requested by @blue-lion1

Warnings: Nothing, just a short, fluffly story about the angel we all adore

All the Stars

"(Y/n), Dean said you have not left your room in a few days. Are you okay?" The familiar deep voice of the Angel's asks through the other side of my door, making my whole body jump in suprise. I had to restrain myself from wanted to just bust out of my room and chase Dean down for worrying him. He had absolutely no right to worry his best freind. He's just pouting because I won't give him his favourite pair of sweatpants back.

"I'm fine, Castiel." I call back, huffing slightly as I pushed myself up off the bad, probably the first time I have actually moved in hours. Shuffling my socked feet over to the door, I open it with a yawn and a half strech. "I'm just-" I start after blinking exhaustion away, but pause when I see the obvious fear in his face. "Cas, angel, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to loose you." He says quickly, and immediately thoughts of Dean doing exactly what I am currently doing flies through my thoughts. It's how Dean acted right before a lot of his... 'Disappearances'

"Oh!" I sputter out, quickly pulling him down into a hug. "You're not going to loose me. I'm just hiding out from my brothers, I get tired of them sometimes." I explain honestly. He hugs me back, a little awkward at first, but then relaxes into it before resting his head on mine.

"I understand. I too get tired of their presence and have to hide away." He agrees. I pull away from the hug and raise a brow.

"I know you're not used to this whole dating thing yet, but I just want you to know you have complete right to speak your mind." I mumble while tapping his nose lightly with my finger. He goes cross-eyed for a split second, before nodding his head.

"I trust you." He responds simply, then carefully grabs my hand into his own. Smiling proudly, I slightly squeeze my hand and press a light kiss to his lips.

"I love you, Castiel." I whisper close to his ear and he exhales slowly.

He pulls me closer to his body and presses a deeper kiss onto my lips in return. "I love you, too."

"Like all that stars." I tease and his eyes widen slightly, before he relaxes. He brings my hand up to his lips as presses a soft kiss onto my knuckles.

"More than all the stars I created."

GUYYYYYSS plsplspps request oneshots on my inbox bro, i have no zero inspo whatsoever to continue writing (also the fact that im studying like crazy)

˚✧⋆˚sρᥲᥴᥱ bᥱtwᥱᥱᥒ

Summary: sam finds you unable to fall asleep, drowsiness turns into sweet confessions

Pairings: sam winchester x reader. height difference implied. childhood friends!

warnings: fluff, cursing, shirtless sam cuz yeah that's a warning in itself, no use of (y/n), not edited at all bro-

word count: 1.4k

notes: RAHH i don't like this one very much but its cute and i was kicking my feet while writing this.

the night was cold, too cold. even though you felt sam lying beside you, you couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard you tried. perhaps it was intrusive thoughts of the last hunt, loud, blaring thoughts. or maybe it was the uncomfortable motel bed you still haven't gotten used to like the two brothers.

you shift, eyes falling to the clock on the bedside table first. 3AM. a groan leaves your lips at the sight because you knew you had to be back up in about 3 hours.

but then your eyes fall on the beautiful man sleeping next to you in bed. you see, there were two twin XL sized beds in this musty motel room. sam didn't want you to take the pull out and you didn't want him to either so you ended up agreeing on sharing the bed while dean slept alone on the other.

you didn't mind, it was an excuse to lay next to your crush. but after 3 hours of restlessness, you regret it because now you feared waking him. 

you sit up, rubbing your drowsy eyes and sliding your legs out of the bed. you don't see sam unconsciously stirring on the bed as he feels the absence of your warmth gone even in his sleep.

fixing your sleep shirt and the gym shorts you threw on to sleep,you stand up from the bed and wobble over to the sliding doors of the motel’s balcony; bare feet platting against the cheap tiled floor.

you discreetly open the balcony door, you cringe internally when it creaks as it slides just enough for you to fit your body through it while barely making a sound.

the cold night air hits you like the most comforting wave, making you hug your torso when you lean your elbows on the railing.

you think about the recent events that have unfolded since you joined the winchesters in their hunting. the constant brushes with death, the gruesome sights youve seen. you always felt tense nowadays, like your body was stuck in this permanent trance of fight or flight. it made sleeping harder.

a few moments, the peaceful silence is interrupted when you hear the balcony door slide further open with another creak. you whip around just to meet sam’s eyes, a soft smile spreading across your face.

“hey…why are you awake?” you ask cautiously, turning only halfway to look at him.

he was holding the blanket along his chest for modesty, still shirtless under the soft cloth. “i could ask you the same…” he mumbles, hoarsely, his sleepy voice stirring a pleasant feeling in your chest. he walks up to you, standing in front of you by the railing. “something wrong?...” the way he says your name so kindly sends a wave of reassurance and comfort through you. it reminded me why you loved him so much. that was a scary thought though so you pushed it away. 

“just couldn't sleep” you say truthfully, there was no point in lying to him anyway. he nods in understanding, tugging the blanket around himself.

in a swift motion, he drapes the blanket over your shoulders and his own so you're sharing the warmth but he maintains a respectable enough distance from you so he doesn't make you uncomfortable. part of you wanted to be closer. no all of you. you'd be lying to yourself if you haven't imagined laying on his chest, cuddling up to him.

he knew how stressful this has all been for you, you've been friends since diapers and he knew you better than anyone. he could tell how you were feeling with a glance, and vice versa.

but this whole hunting thing was still new to you, it was still scary. and he didn't blame you. “i know you too well to believe in, ‘just couldn't sleep’” he muses under his breath

the protectiveness he felt for you drowning the tired ache in his muscles.

“im just a bit shaken up…” you admit in a soft whisper, keeping the stillness of the night. “im still not used to hunting things. seeing all that you see every day.” 

he nods shortly, tilting his head down slightly to meet your gaze. “mhm…i understand.” he was once in your position. when his brother called him to hunt again, to continue the family business. it was unnerving. but hes developed thick skin after everything hes been through, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. 

“but you know id always be here, right..?” he breaks the still silence once again. your heart pumps loudly in your ear at his words and the promise that came with them.

you look up at him, eyes narrowing but landing on his own. its like this magnetic pull, overwhelming but pleasant. “yeah…yeah i know” you whisper, you hand brushing against his. it felt like sparks. you didnt want this moment to end, not so soon. “i just felt so scared today. when that thing attacked…i just- i thought i was going to die” you say with a humorless chuckle, shaking your head.

sam softens, concern and care written all over his face as he looks at you. that was his biggest fear about having you hunting with him; you getting hurt. or worse, dying. it killed him to even think about it.

with a hesitant hand, he reaches up and lifts your chin with his index finger and his thumb. the way he whispers your name catches your breath. “...i don't know what i’d you if something happened to you.” he whispers sincerely.

his eyes tell you he wants to say more, but he hesitates. “what?” you urge, tilting your head up and to the side to follow his gaze. 

sam knows he feels deeply, but he feels wrong expressing it. “its just…i just care deeply about you, you know?” he mutters carefully, every single word he was saying was meticulously chosen. 

you shift your body, facing him completely now. you reach up, plucking his hand from you chin to hold it tenderly; lacing your fingers with his. you stayed silent, but your eyes urged him to keep going. there was a bubbling in your stomach that hinted at what he was trying to say, so you waited.

sam gulps, mirroring you and facing you as well, neck craning down to meet your eyes. his palms felt sweaty, eyes darting to every corner of the world except your eyes. “i like you” he blurs out, but a few beats later feels stupid.

‘like’ felt like something you'd say to your high school crush, not the person of your dreams. he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “no-no…i…jesus fuck- i love you. i love you.” he continues, finally meeting your eyes.

in his head, you wouldn't believe him unless he was looking into your soul for dear life. “i tried to stop feeling this way, but i cant. youre all i think about, day in and day out. my person, and god- i cant live without you. just the thought of it makes me-” you cut him off with a hug. 

your arms wrap around his bare waist, pressing your cheek against his chest as the blanket around you both cocoon you safety together. you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your skin, his warmth radiating to you. he melts into your touch, pressing his lips against the top of your head. 

the weight of the feelings settle, and even after your silent confirmation that you reciprocate those feelings. he still wanted, no needed, to hear it coming from your sweet lips. “...you love me too?” he eventually asks, leaning back just enough to look down at you.

you look up at him, offering him a playful but awe full smile. “of course i do…” you mumble. your hands slowly travel up his sides, caressing him and stopping on his cheeks. your thumbs gently rub across his cheek bones, pulling his face down slowly, giving him more than enough time to back out if he wants to.

but he doesn't. in fact, he meets you in the middle for a tender kiss. it felt cliche, but your felt sparks flying between you. even though the kiss was slow, sweet, it was exciting. the idea of kissing your best friend after years of yearning, it was almost like a reward. 

you pull back slightly, disconnecting your lips and taking sharp breaths. he rests his forehead against yours, you return it. a soft chuckle escapes your lips, and he echoes it. the weight of years being taken off of your shoulders. “god, we we're screwed” you mumble with a giddy grin, earning another lighthearted chuckle from him.

you knew damn well so much more change would come upon you, but this time, it wasn't bad change. it wasn't scary. because you had sam.

(divider by @kodaswrld)

romᥲᥒᥴᥱ oᥒ thᥱ sιdᥱ

i’ve never used tumblr, idk how to make this look nice-

Summary: Sam finds a part-time job to make a living and meets a sweet coworker who steals all his time and his heart.

Pairings: Fast food worker!Sam Winchester x coworker!reader. Set right before season 1, therefore Stanford!Sam. coworkers to lovers kinda. f!reader. height difference. Finally glasses wearing!reader.

warnings: fluff, use of (y/n), brief mention of body insecurity, not edited

word count: 3.6 k

-this is my first real oneshot because i haven't written fics in so long, bare with me and give me advice or comment. i love love this community so pls do mwah <3

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study, work, sleep. that's all you do at this point in your life. after moving out of your shitty household, away from your family to finally have the independence you always craved.however, you didn't expect this freedom to get you to be working the night shift in a fast food place on the side of the road, near your college dorms just to make 10 bucks an hour. your mother called it “honest work”, you called it bullshit. 

the days blurred together; class, work, study, sleep – if barely 4 hours counted as sleep. you wake up at six, chug coffee (that never seemed strong enough), sit through lectures half-conscious, clock into a job you hate, go home, repeat. it's mundane, but you told yourself that this was adult life now. it's the freedom you had been craving right? so you didn't complain.

you thanked your lucky star every day that your parents begrudgingly paid for your studies. not many had that. they worked harder than ever to continue to pay for your tuition, extra hours and all. deep down, it made you feel kind of bad. it's one of the reasons why you signed up for that stupid job you hate anyway. to help them in any way you could, because you could see the dirty looks they gave you every time they paid for your studies. you hated being codependent so might as well show them you're not a complete disappointment.

after finishing your studies, you put on the flashy yellow polo shirt with the bland logo on your left pec; unconsciously tugging at its mid section that highlight the squish of your body in ways that make you feel uncomfortable. you scoot into your jeans and reach for your glasses on the nightstand, putting them on comfortably on your nose bridge. let's get this show on the road.

and sam, poor sam, he on the other hand was stressed the fuck out. he wasnt supposed to be here, he was supposed to be buried nose deep in law text books. or spending his nights in the library. maybe to prove to himself - or to his dad - when this was all over that he was still useful and independent like a normal person. but sam was far from normal and that was clear.

“you think life’s hard, sammy? Try hunting things that wanna rip you apart.” either his brother or dad would have said, but he didnt care. he wanted a family, but he didn't have the luxury of it. instead he was standing under the flickering fluorescent lights of the fast food joint he found to work, wearing a name tag with a name that barely felt like his own; ‘sam winchester’. 

sure he was far from home, far from the stress of his family but deep down he still felt like he was running. running from what? maybe his responsibilities. no. it wasn't his responsibility to pick up after his father. 

he wasn't looking forward to being the new guy at work, once again having to be thrown into something he'd just have to adapt to. but it wasnt so bad. he had friends in his university, the same one you happened to go to. he had jess, brady, zach, and luis. it wasn't all bad. he bet zach would have a laugh if he saw how ridiculous he looked in this awful uniform. 

his boss was talking, but he was barely listening, his thoughts too clouded by sleep as they walk down the backrooms of the restaurant and towards the kitchen. where coincidentally, you just walked into. and oh boy the moment he spots you, its like a breath of fresh air, you looked around the same age as him and just as tired. maybe he wouldn't be such a sore thumb in this new job after all. 

you clock into work, waving at your coworkers with a polite smile like you always do. according to your boss, this friendly nature and facade was one of the reasons you were always ‘employee of the month’; you almost scoff at the idea. you, a student doing the bare minimum to survive got you this title. It really shows how shitty this joint is, how little effort the employees put in. this ‘hard earned’ title is also the reason why you spot your boss and a tall young man wearing the employee uniform standing by his side walking towards you with purpose.

“(y/n), we've got a new employee joining our team. As an employee of the month, i want you to train him and show him the ropes, alright? good luck” he says without a breach for protest or a reply. you stand there for a few seconds, rather awkwardly as you and the pretty boy in front of you stare at each other. you push up your glasses, pursing your lips ever so slightly as you think of something to say. this was never asked of you, you were used to just keeping your head down and doing your job, now you were being asked to train a new employee. that's fine.

 “Hi.” he greets first, extending his hand politely. this act made your shoulders relax, the warm tone in his voice was enough to break the awkward silence. you are quickly drawn to his eyes, sweet, puppy dog green-brown eyes. it was actually overwhelming as you instinctively look him up and down. 

you clear your throat, jerking your hand forward and grasping his hand; shaking it ever so slightly. you hear him let out a quiet chuckle, your cheek flare in embarrassment as you realize he's laughing at your awkwardness. but it isn't mocking, it's genuinely sweet. “hi! uh-so…im (y/n)” you finally cut through the silence you allowed to linger for far too long.

“sam” he replies kindly, so kindly it made you want to squish him. cuteness aggression. “you'll…train me?” he adds, eyes darting down to your still joined hands. but he didn't pull away, surprisingly enough, but you do as to maintain professionalism even though every inch of you was begging for you to just hold this cute boy's hand. 

“yup, thats what – yeah thats what im here to do – yes.” you stutter out, scolding yourself internally for acting like this. it made you feel like a weirdo. this boy walks into your life, and within a few minutes makes you feel nervous. you love it. “come” you add, swiftly, turning on your heels and walking down towards the staff down near the back of the building just for some basic instructions to get him on his feet.

the next 2 hours were actually fun. he made training feel like bonding rather than work. you help him with the basics; food safety, customer service, register training, efficiency, all the things that keep this crappy fast food joint up and running like the good employee you are. you two manage to talk so much about your lives during that time, that you don't think you've laughed that much in forever. 

you wipe down the counters, the restaurant’s flow of customers slowing down just enough for you to do a general sweep of the kitchen and keep up with the health and safety protocols bestowed upon you. your wrist starts to hurt as you wipe down the counter next to the grill, eyes darting to sam as he readies to cook more of the burgers, which you had taught him to do. “this job is gonna kill me” you mutter, half joking and gently rolling your wrist around as it starts to get sore from all the effort being put into wiping the single smudge of grease on the counter. “feels like ill spend my entire life here, like i aint moving forward, you know?”

sam exhales a laugh, his hand pausing their movements on the grill as he takes in your words. he knew exactly how that felt, its how he used to feel every day living with his dad and brother. more his dad. john winchester was never known for being warm. “yeah, i get that.” he agrees, pausing for a beat to think. “i guess im just used to it, you know. moving, working, not really having the time for – you know, a life” 

his words piqued your interest, putting the dirty rag in the water bucket to pay full attention to him. “yeah? how come?”

“my family business.” he shrugs lightly but it felt forced. “my dad mostly. he had me and my brother in the…hunting business since we were little, town to town, never settling down.” he scrapes crumbles of dried burger buns from the counter absentmindedly, thoughts consuming his head. “this whole…stanford thing is probably the longest i've settled down without him breathing down my neck”

his tone makes your heart clench, though you've only met today, it felt like you knew this boy more than most of the people in this job and your university combined. to be fair, you didn't meet many people. you walk over to the side of the kitchen, sounds of cutlery and pots banging in the background seemed to fade with the importance of your conversation. “thats why you got this job?” you ask cautiously

“yeah. mostly. i just wanted to do something normal.” he confessed, shifting on his feet and following your activity by grabbing the spatula sitting by the grill and going back to what he was practicing previously; flipping patty’s. “no hunting, no family to worry about…even if its –” he gestures to the air around us, glaring at the fluorescent lights above. “this. even if it kind of sucks” you stifle a chuckle, knowing he was right. it surprised you how much this boy and you were alike but also so different. it was a breath of fresh air. 

you felt like you already knew a lot about him, not all the details, but enough to make you want to dig up more. he was struggling to flip a burger with the spatula. you were watching in amusement by the side of the room, admiring him as he sticks his tongue out and attempts to wedge the spatula under the patty one more time before giving up. “here, let me help” you call out loudly enough for him to hear you but not loud enough to be annoying; the unconscious insecurity of being heard after all. you reach him in a quick few steps, standing beside him and placing a gentle hand on top of his holding the tool.

with practiced precision, you help him push the spatula under the meat patty and swiftly flip it over. your eyes are locked on the food in front of you, not realizing the intimate position you've put both of you in. “ah yes, the mighty spatula is rather hard to work with” you muse lightheartedly, earning a laugh from Sam above you which sends a sense of pride through you.

“this is a weapon i cannot handle” he replies back in the same tone, playing along with you as you work the food for him. your grip on his hand was comforting, warm. it was rare for him to allow this kind of physical contact, but it just felt right with you. and you felt the same. 

by the time you realized the position you were in, it made your heart skip a beat. eyes slowly wander up, finally taking in the prominent height difference between the two of you. your eyes meet and it just feels so sweet, warm. a flicker of understanding passes through the two of you, a desire to want to be around each other without fear of judgement or embarrassment. you remember the words he said earlier, feeling the need to speak, you do. “for what its worth, i think its impressive. your independence…and you're not half-bad at flipping burgers” you tease affectionately which sparks another genuine chuckle from him. 

sam feels the tension on his shoulders melt away. “yeah you think so?” he purred. 

“no, you still suck. but you’re getting there” you reply playfully, both of you laughing together. your eyes catch a smudge of ketchup on his cheek, you had no idea how it got there but you instinctively reach to wipe the condiment from his cheek with your other hand.

it makes him flinch for a split second, making you pause. but then he leans into your palm, your thumb continuing its previous motion and wiping the ketchup from his cheek ever so gently. your hand lingers for longer than necessary, but he doesn’t seem to mind. the smile on his lips growing wider, seemingly excited. it makes your face burn and you pull away, dropping both your hands to your side.

you slowly peel yourself from him, letting out a hearty laugh and fixing the tacky uniform; tugging at its collar as the air around the two of you seems to shift. sam’s eyes cast down for a split second, seeming almost disappointed that you had pulled away. “thanks” he mutters back, eyes back at you. he refused to look away, drawn to you so suddenly as if you were everything he ever needed. 

but before either of you can acknowledge what was happening, you smell fire and hear sizzling. your gaze falls on the patty, gasping as you see it burst into small flames. sam yelps and instinctively pulls away from the grill, waving the spatula around before both of your gazes fall on the fire extinguisher. 

“shit!” you hiss, taking a few steps back from the grill. he acts faster than you, reaching for it while you stand there wide-eyed. WHOOSH. the fire extinguisher goes off loudly, covering everything. by everything, you mean everything. the fire, the grill, and you. the fire was gone but so was the meat we were preparing and your uniform covered in white foam.

that was until the boss burst into the kitchen, looking pissed off but mostly worried for us. “what the hell is going on here?!” he shouts, rightfully so, to be honest, you think. his eyes fall on the charred patty, the grill and you covered in foam while sam holds the extinguisher like a weapon. 

you look over at sam to gauge a reaction out of him just to see him already looking at you. a crack of a smile breaks his look of fear, your face mirrors his until you both break into quiet chuckles. these chuckles grow into belly laughs as you lose it, sam places the fire extinguisher on the floor as you laugh at the idiotic situation you found yourselves in. 

you two didn't get into nearly as much trouble as you thought you would, it just put a microscopic stain on your reputation as an employee and put sam to a bad start. but it seemed to be alright with both of you as you walked back to the dorms of Stanford together at about 7pm.

the night was chilly, grey clouds coating the skies as you two walk side by side in comfortable silence. the moment he found out you go to the same university, he offered to walk you to your dorm building and you agreed without hesitation. skip out on this cute guy walking you? no way.

“i swear my feet are so tired, if one more person asked for extra pickles i was gonna lose it…” you murmur under your breath, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips which sparks a softer one from him almost in agreement. “today was so busy, how are you not exhausted?” you ask, adding onto your previous statement. 

he shrugs ever so slightly, grinning down at you with a bashful expression. “guess im just built different” he muses, you bump your hip with his in return. “or maybe i just wasn't running around as much as you were, you were all like-” he mimics your stressed-out movements, working in an imaginary station which makes you playfully roll your eyes. 

you nudge him with your elbow, biting back a soft grin. “hey, i'm not the rookie here, rookie” you emphasize, he elbows you back in return, his laugh is louder this time. the both of you were internally over the moon; proud you could make each other laugh like this not knowing the other was simply happy with the company.

it was like neither of you wanted to reach your dorms, steps trailing slower than normal. the silence between you two seemed to stretch out comfortably - but you decided to break it. “so stanford?” you ask calmly, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jacket. well, his jacket. the one he insisted you wear after he sprayed you with cold foam.

sam exhales, “well, i needed to get away from my family in some way. where i ended up didn't matter as much” he replied, eyes casting down at the ground as you walk.

“i can understand. your dad doesn't seem like the supportive home-y type” you sympathize, recalling the few things he mentioned about his dad back at the diner. this makes him deflate, guilt stinging your chest as you realize you might have pried too much. “hey, im sorry–” you add quickly, placing a comforting hand on his bicep

to your surprise, he leans into your touch, like hes been carrying this weight for too long. “no, you're okay.” he murmurs. “you're right. my dad isn't really the homey type” he agrees, eyes finally darting from the ground, up at you. well, down at you, again considering the man was a giant.

for a moment, he hesitates as if debating whether to keep going. wondering if you would even care. but the look in your eyes said you would. “my brother…wanted me to stay.” he mutters again, eyes staying locked in yours as you walk. ”i don't think he even knows if i’m alive.” he admits. for a moment it felt like you were the only person he could confide in and vice versa.

“you know…it's so easy to talk to you” sam adds warmly. you could sense the nervousness but genuine interest flowing from him like waves. your hand drops from his arm, brushing against his hand with a feather-like touch for a split second. that split second felt like fire, welcoming fire. 

your nose crinkles ever so slightly at his words, pride and relief rushing through you at his reassuring words. you felt…excitement and triumph. the way he looks at you, his touches and his warmth are all signs that maybe, just maybe, this cute co-worker of yours actually likes you. and before you knew it, you were standing under the arched entryway of your dorm building.

you stop by the entry doors, turning your back to them and facing sam with a grateful smile. he returns it shyly, boldly taking your hands in his. his thumbs run across your knuckles, committing their soft surfaces to memory. he brings your hands to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on them. “thanks for letting me walk you…” he mutters, his voice blending in perfectly with the atmosphere. the crickets, the almost nonexistent breeze of the night.

“you're always welcome to do so” you reply, keeping the intense eye contact from before. you feel the thumping of your heart, growing louder and louder.

“i guess i'll see you tomorrow?...” he continues after a few moments of silence. your palms were clammy but you felt emboldened by his words, placing your hands on his shoulder and using it as leverage to reach his cheek. you hesitate for a few seconds but press up on your toes and brush a quick, warm kiss on his left cheek. his skin was so warm under your lips, you almost didn't want to pull away. but when you do, his eyes are wide with wonder as if he wasn't expecting it but it definitely wasn't unwelcome. 

“...tomorrow” you agree under your breath, slowly pulling your hands from his and stepping back. your hands fumble behind you as you reach for the door knob without looking away from him. the way his uniform hugged his arms, the way it dipped to show the smallest patch skin just below his collar. you wanted to remember it all night. “night sam…” you call out, finally opening the door and stepping into the building. 

sam steps back, eyes lingering on your figure as you walk into the building. a soft sigh escapes his lips, a breath he didn't know he was holding this entire time. it dawned upon him that maybe this whole experience didn't have to be forced. maybe work won't be completely unbearable, not when nights with you like this exist. and little did he know, you felt the same. 

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Omg, thank you so much <3 That is literally the cutest thing I've ever fucking read!

sam’s shy gf headcanons. s.w. ₊˚⊹⋆

sam winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: general shy dating hc again!! spoiler; sam is the softest, most patient boyfriend ever. he understands your awkwardness, your shyness, your nervousness—all of it—and he loves you for it.

⤿ warnings: lots of cuteness, emotional moments/support, comfort!! soft boy affection overload, sam being the gentlest giant to ever giant, safe relationship energy that might make you cry, pre-established relationship.

⤿ notes: on the request of the sweet @everythingisaspectrum!! sorry this took so long (╥﹏╥) for anyone worried on the taglist who signed on just for dean, just hit me up and ill make sure to not tag you on any other characters. plus the taglist got an update!!

HE DOES GROCERY SHOPPING IF YOU’RE TOO STRESSED.. But not in a ‘ugh, fine I’ll go’ way. No, this man is walking out the door with a list you scribbled and texting you stuff like “Do you want the strawberry yogurt or the peach? I forgot which one’s your favorite :(“

HAND-HOLDING IS HIS FAVORITE THING EVER.. He knows you’re shy about PDA, so he never forces it, but when you do reach for his hand? Oh, he cherishes it. He’ll squeeze your fingers gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, completely focused on you.

LOVES HEARING YOU TALK ABOUT THE THINGS YOU LOVE.. Even if you’re shy, when you finally start opening up about something you’re passionate about? Sam is so happy. He’ll listen intently, nodding along, asking questions— just completely mesmerized by how cute you look when you get excited.

SAM READS TO YOU.. Like actually, out loud. You’re laying in bed, curled up under a blanket, and he’s got a book in one hand, your hand in the other. He has the most soothing voice ever and every few lines he’ll glance over at you with the softest smile like, “Still with me, sweetheart?”

LOVES IT WHEN YOU GET SLEEPY AND CLINGY.. If you ever get too tired to keep up your usual shyness and just snuggle into him, Sam is in heaven. He’ll wrap you up in his arms, stroking your hair, whispering, “You can fall asleep, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

HE KEEPS A LITTLE MENTAL LIST OF THINGS THAT MAKE YOU ANXIOUS.. Crowds, loud places, random new people — he notices and makes plans around it. If you’re ever somewhere you don’t like, he’ll quietly lean over and whisper, “Want to head out, babe?” And if you nod? He’s already guiding you out like a prince in plaid.

HE LEGIT BRAGS ABOUT YOU IN PRIVATE.. Like, if he’s talking to Dean or someone he trusts, he gets this dreamy little smile and is like, “She’s shy, yeah… but she’s got the biggest heart. Smartest girl I’ve ever met.” He’s so down BAD.

WHEN YOU’RE OVERWHELMED, HE GIVES YOU HIS HOODIE.. And i mean, immediately. You’re not even asking, he just sees you getting overwhelmed and wordlessly tugs it off, wraps it around you, and kisses your hair. Now you smell like him and feel safe.

SAM IS OBSESSED WITH YOUR VOICE WHEN YOU TALK JUST TO HIM.. You might be quiet around others, but when it’s just the two of you? When you’re cuddling and whispering things only he gets to hear? He treasures it. He’ll literally say, “I love your voice. It’s like… peaceful.”

HE NOTICES EVERY TINY CHANGE IN YOUR MOOD.. You don’t even have to say anything; he can just tell. He’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his chin on your shoulder and softly ask, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

HE HAS A BABY VOICE, JUST FOR YOU.. Not like silly-baby talk, but that extra soft, affectionate tone that only comes out when he’s holding you close or waking you up in the morning. “C’mon, sweetheart… time to get up. I made your tea.” Like PLEASE he’s your emotional support giant.

HE’S SO GENTLE WHEN YOU’RE UPSET.. If something’s bothering you, he’ll never push you to talk, but he’ll always make sure you know he’s there. He’ll rub slow circles on your back, murmur soothing words, and just be there until you’re ready to open up.

SAM LOVES WHEN YOU PLAY WITH HIS HAIR.. You’re shy about touching him, but the first time you nervously threaded your fingers through his hair? Sam melted. He closed his eyes, leaned into your touch, and let out the softest sigh. Now he begs for it. “C’mere, baby. Just for a minute.”

YOU HAVE A SAFE WORD FOR SOCIAL EXITS.. Sam came up with it. Like if you’re somewhere that’s draining you, all you have to do is say the word (maybe something dumb and cute like ‘moose tracks’) and he’ll immediately get you out, no questions.

HE WRITES YOU NOTES.. Like little sticky notes with stuff like “Drink water today, babe <3” or “I miss you, even if you’re just in the next room” and sticks them where you’ll find them. Your journal, your laptop, the fridge, your pillow, everywhere.

HE FINDS YOUR AWKWARDNESS SO HOT.. Like when you try to be flirty but your voice shakes? Or you avoid eye contact after saying something bold? Sam is grinning so hard. He’ll bite his lip and softly say, “That was really cute. Keep going.” and you’re immediately done for.

IF YOU CRY, HE’S IN FULL ON SOFT MODE.. No panic, no ‘don’t cry’ BS. He just holds you close, rocks you gently, and says stuff like, “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Literal human comfort blanket.

HE NEEDS A KISS BEFORE BED.. Even if it’s just a shy little peck. And if you’re being all bashful and hiding your face under the covers? He’ll laugh softly and coax you out with kisses to your hands. “Don’t hide that pretty face, baby.”

HE BUYS YOU BOOKS THAT REMIND HIM OF YOU.. The titles are always something like “Quiet is Beautiful” or “Loving Someone Soft” or just some cheesy romance novel with a blushing heroine. He always scribbles a note inside like “Saw this and thought of you. You’re my favorite.”

HE LIVES FOR THE LATE NIGHT CONVOS.. You’re in bed, half-asleep, and you whisper something like “do you think the stars look different in heaven?” and this man is suddenly wide awake and in full philosophical mode, holding you and telling you what he thinks while stroking your arm.

HE TOTALLY PICKS UP ON YOUR SOCIAL ANXIETY AND SUBTLY HELPS YOU OUT.. If you’re in a conversation and get flustered, Sam will gently step in without making it obvious. He’ll steer the conversation smoothly so you don’t feel pressured to talk too much, all while giving you reassuring little touches, like a hand on your back.

SAM OFFERS YOU HIS JACKET WITHOUT YOU ASKING.. Cold? You get the jacket. Nervous? You get the jacket. Just existing in the world? Guess what, you’re getting the damn jacket. It’s like a hug from him, and you know he gets a little weak seeing you wrapped up in it.

HE NEVER LETS YOU DOUBT HOW MUCH HE WANTS YOU.. You’re quiet and might have moments of thinking you’re too awkward or not enough. Sam sees it immediately and pulls you into the warmest hug, whispering, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, sweetheart. Don’t ever think you’re not.”

ADORES THE WAY YOU TUCK YOURSELF INTO HIS SIDE.. Like a little shy koala. If you ever burrow into him, face in his chest, holding onto his flannel? He’s DONE. He’ll just wrap you up and murmur, “God, I love you so much.”

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tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡

Reluctant Guardian

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

Smile Cute GIF - gif used

Sam Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used for Reader

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

Reluctant Guardian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reader: hey Dean, can you turn the lights on?

Dean: I don't need to baby, your the only light I need

Reader: Dean, that's sweet, but I can't see shit in here

I'm not that far into season 3 yet, I'm at episode 4

(I feel like both would notice, I just wonder who would notice first)

(Like, no ring, no speech, just, rush in the moment)

Hello my stars! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long :,) but it is now summer and have too much time so please give me all requests you want!^^

Fandoms I will write for

Supernatural (platonic and romantic)

- Team free will

-Jack

-Crowley

-Rowena

-all the arch angels but Raphael

The black phone (platonic or romantic)

- dead boys crew

-Finney and Gwen Blake

Yurri voice (platonic or romantic)

- Everyone but Derek

(I couldn’t find a gif sorry, my stars🥲)

What I won’t write

Smut

Yandere

Hurt no comfort

Abuse

Piss or shit kinks

Child x adult (romantic)

Cis Fem readers

What I will write

Child x adult (PLATONIC)

Trans fem and masc readers

Male readers

Hurt with comfort

And pretty much anything else

Preferences for requests

Try to be at least a little specific in what you want and some story stuff you want ^^

That’s all my stars! Have fun requesting, make sure you drink water, eat food, and have a lovely day my stars!⭐️

Therapist: Mr.Winchester, your life isnt a movie.

Sam: i hope its a short film

Therapist: ....

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 20 Finale

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.7k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: We've reached the end!

Original / Previous Chapter

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

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

She wanted Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N didn’t answer.

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

Another knock. Then, silence.

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

She shut her eyes, jaw tightening.

“Go away.”

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

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

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

“I’m aware.”

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

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

Castiel didn’t move. “Dean is gone.”

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

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

Castiel’s expression faltered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t,” Castiel replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the night Castiel appeared again.

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

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

Cas stiffened. “Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that followed was deafening.

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

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

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

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

The twins cried from down the hall.

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

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

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

“Then leave,” she whispered.

He did.

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

…

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

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

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

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

Except for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Castiel swallowed. “Both.”

Silence hung between them, thick and sacred.

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

Cas felt a flicker of hope, painful and sharp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now Castiel looked with nothing but certainty.

Jack didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

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

Just once.

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

The wind in the Garden shifted.

The light grew warmer.

Jack closed his eyes.

And Castiel disappeared.

…

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

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

I was really going to do this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grace.

The light around me shimmered with gold.

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

I spun around, stumbling to my feet.

“Cas—” I nearly choked on the name.

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

Cas didn’t flinch. He just walked closer.

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

I froze.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time in weeks, I believed him.

…

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

It didn’t feel real.

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

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

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

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

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

The world stopped moving.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

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

I could barely breathe. “Dean…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you?”

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

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

Hope.

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

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

Waiting for a life to begin.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps on the porch.

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

The door creaked. The air shifted.

And there he was.

Dean.

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

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

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

“I love you,” I breathed.

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

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

But inside our little house, time finally stood still.

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

Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

And then there’s Dean.

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

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

Like a trip to the beach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean smiles. “Always.”

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

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 19

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings major character death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The bunker felt different tonight.

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

Theresa was having her baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cry—sharp, piercing, alive.

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

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

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

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

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

Dean Robert John Winchester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the air shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, my throat too tight to respond.

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

Then, like always, he was gone.

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

Strong. I hoped he was right.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

The day came faster than I thought it would.

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

By morning, the pain was coming in waves.

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

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

But there was only silence.

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

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

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

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

Cas confirmed they were healthy. Perfect.

And then he was gone.

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

They were here. My daughters.

But so was the grief.

So was the silence.

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 18

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 2 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

Bobby and Theresa were waiting for us.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

I gave her a nod. “Night.”

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

I frowned. “Okay, cool. Good talk.”

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

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

…

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

Then Castiel showed up.

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

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

Cas frowned, tilting his head. "Y/N—"

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

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

…

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

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

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

No one argued.

…

The weeks that followed were quiet. Too quiet.

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

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

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

I had to know for sure.

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

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

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

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

Two minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, all at once, the results appeared.

Positive.

All of them.

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

Pregnant.

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

But it was.

And I had no idea what to do.

…

I didn’t tell anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

And Dean—

I swallowed hard, pushing that thought away.

…

Theresa was the one who found out first.

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

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

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

My breath caught. "Taz—"

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

"Five months."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

My head snapped up. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.

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

I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”

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

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

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

Negative.

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

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about the ones who do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.

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

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

I nodded. “Got it.”

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

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

“Promise,” I replied.

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

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

“Dean,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

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

“I know”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean’s reply was almost instant.

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

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

…

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

But something went wrong.

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

And then I saw Dean.

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

My breath caught in my throat. “No.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, get back!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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