Got Myself A Little Treat, Can't Wait To Start Them When I Get Home From Working Tonight.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 7

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of blood

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I slept for ages. If I went off the alarm clock next to my bed, I had slept for well over 24 hours.  I probably would have slept longer but the sound of my sliding door opening followed by Deans voice woke me right up.

“What do you have there Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Y/N hasn’t eaten in 2 days, so I was just bringing her something” Sam said from directly outside the door. My stomach growled at the thought of food. It was true I hadn’t eaten anything since Theresa’s house.

“Oh, so your best buddies now?” Dean asked.

“What is your problem?” Sam sounded like he was getting angry with his older brother.

“Nothing it’s just interesting that the girl you had a huge problem with your suddenly being super nice to”.

“Yeah, well you love her Dean and I’m not going to change your mind on that, so I figured it’s better I just accept it then keep this stupid fight going” Sam sighed.

“Turns out it was just a phase” I could hear Deans smirk in his voice.

“Dean? Are you…”

“Sam seriously guess I was just thinkin’ to much with my downstairs brain” Dean laughed.

“Your sure?” Sam asked voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes, I’m sure”

My heart broke with each word Dean spoke. If he truly felt that way, then why was he still hear looking after me? Why hadn’t they just left when they dropped me here? I heard Sam opening the door again, so I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I heard Sam approach and the mattress beside me sink as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sam placed a hand on my shoulder and began to softly shake me. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, pretending to have been woken up.

“Sorry you’ve been asleep for ages, and you need to eat something” Sam chuckled holding out the food.

“Thanks Sam” I tried to sit up, failing miserably “Uh a little help” I giggled nervously.

Sam chuckled before placing the food on my bedside table. He slipped an arm around my waist and hoisted me into a sitting position. He tucked two pillows from my bed behind my back to keep me comfortable. I grabbed the food from the bedside table and began tucking in. It was anything special literally tomato soup from a can with a couple of toasted cheese sandwiches. But still I dug into it like it was the last meal I would ever eat. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay well I’m going to head out for a little while”.

“Going to see Theresa?” I gave a cheeky smile.

“Uh yeah” Sam smiled rubbing the back of his neck.

I waved my hand at the door dismissing him. Sam just chuckled and put his hands up walking out the door. I sat in silence eating my soup and watching the door half wanting Dean to come in and half wanting him to stay away. Once I had finished eating, I placed the tray with bowl and plate back on the bedside table. It was in that moment that I realised I desperately needed to go to the toilet. Not wanting to call Dean in I tried to sit myself on the side of the bed. It took a lot of strength to lift myself on one hand given that even the smallest amount of pressure on my arm pulled the stitches that lined it causing me to grit my teeth in pain. By the time I have myself seated on the edge of the bed fresh blood had begun to bleed through the once white bandage that circled it. I forced myself to stand wobbling on the thick cast around my foot and ankle. Luckly the cast stopped before my knee making it slightly easier to walk. With the assistance of the bedside table and the wardrobe that lined the wall between the bed and the bathroom door I was able to hobble my way to the bathroom. I didn’t even think when I finished on the toilet, I flushed and wobbled over to the sink to wash my non-cast covered hand. The whole time I could hear Dean banging on the door and jiggling the handle asking to be let in. I sighed, looked at myself in the mirror and flicked the lock on the door allowing him to come in.

“What do you think your doing?” Dean looked furious.

“I’m going to the toilet” I motioned to the toilet.

“You should have asked for help” Dean moved to grab my arm.

“I’m not helpless Dean, I can get from my bed to my bathroom” I emphasized my. Dean looked down rubbing his forehead. He went to speak but let out a small gasp instead.

“You’ve busted your stitches” Dean gently grabbed my arm.

“I’ll live” I pulled my arm away. I made my way back to my bed while Dean stormed back out into the kitchen cursing under his breath. I got back into my bed without any trouble. I was sat on the edge of the bed deciding what to do when Dean came back, first aid kit in hand.

“Let me see your arm” Dean grumbled.

“What are you going to do? Play doctor?” I smirked at him.

“I know a little something about stitching wounds” Dean smiled at me “So will you let me see your arm please?”

I held my arm out to him. He sat beside me and slowly began up wrapping it being care not to pull on the sensitive wound below. Once my arm was completely unwrapped Dean laid it across his lap. He opened the first aid kid which I recognised as the one from the boot of the Impala. He pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a needle and sutures. He poured a small amount of the rubbing alcohol over the wound. He pulled out the torn stitches and sewed in the new stitches. I could see the look on Deans face, it was a face I had seen multiple times.

“I know that look” I looked over to a photo on my tv unit.

“What look?” Dean looked up at me briefly.

“Look at the freak” I looked back to Dean “It’s okay I’m use to it, hell the girls at school use to cut me just to see how quickly the cuts would heal” I shrugged.

“I’m sorry” Dean never took his eyes off my arm.

“Knowing what you know, would you say I could be one of the things we hunt?”

“Knowing what I know? Not a chance. Could you be some sort of medical anomaly? Definitely” Dean smiled.

“Oh, anomaly big word for you Winchester” I laughed at him.

Dean finished restitching my arm. He took a new bandage from the first aid kit and wrapped my arm up again.

“There all better” Dean smiled at me. “Now can I help you with anything or are you going to stay in bed”.

“Can you help me over to the computer?” I motioned to the computer in the corner. Dean scooped me up in his arms causing me to squeal. I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep myself from falling. Dean just chuckled and walked over to the computer desk. He placed me on the computer chair and swung me around to face the computer.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean leaning on the desk next to me.

“I’m stuck here your not so I figured I’ll send you to a couple other cases in the area” I booted up the computer and logged in. I explained to Dean that I had started keeping an online journal that only I could access. Having it online made it easier to keep cases sorted and anything I learnt along the way a key stroke away. A lot easier then that paper journal they carried around. I pulled up a case from just over an hour away. Easy to drive there and back in a day, Vamp nest. I had it lined up as a quick clear out on my way to the big vamps nest up north.  Dean seemed impressed, he smirked at me and said something about hitting the road. He left the room with a final warning for me to take it easy. I heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the external sliding door. I turned back to the computer and started looked for other cases to keep Dean busy and out of my house.

And so, the next 2 weeks went by like this, me presenting Dean with a new case the second he was in the door, Sam going back and forth between helping Dean and spending time with Theresa. I just wanted to get back on my feet and away from the Winchesters. Sam and Dean would often talk at night as they were getting ready for bed in the lounge room. More of the same, Dean was sure he had no feelings for me, Sam was sure he was lying. Sam spoke of the spark he had with Theresa and how he was thinking about asking her to return to the US with them. Dean had now taken Sams position and was insistent it was a bad idea. There were times where Dean was around, and I would see him looking at me. He had this look, it was as if he was hurt over what happened, as if he was blaming himself. He was at fault in one way, but he wasn’t completely in the wrong. I had chosen to go back to the pool, I knew I was getting myself into trouble, but I did it anyway it wasn’t all his fault. If the boys weren’t here, I probably still would have gone back to the pool.

When the day finally came around for me to go back to the hospital to see how things were healing, I was nervous. Part of me hoped everything was healed so they boys could just leave but at the same time I hoped I had a little longer left to heal so I could keep the boys around for a little longer. As the days dragged, I felt myself fighting between wanting them to go and wanting to plead with them to take me with them. Something felt right with them, felt right with Dean. Dean pulled us up in front of the hospital and went to get a wheelchair. Sam had come with us for whatever reason. He stood by my open door and told me all about the things he done with Theresa. He had been taking the opportunity to live a normal life, he had taken her to the movies, they’d played at the arcade, everything a normal couple would do. I was happy for him. Dean came back with a wheelchair and insisted on lifting me from the car to the wheelchair. He then pushed me into the hospital while his brother followed behind. I directed him to the outpatient care clinic. We checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. We didn’t have to wait long at all. A doctor came and had a nurse roll me away to x-ray. He made the boys waiting for me in the waiting room. Once the x-rays where taken, the nurse rolled me back into the waiting room and told me that the doctor would be back with me shortly.

It took the doctor 45 minutes to get back to me. Dean rolled me into the doctor’s office taking a seat beside me while Sam went and stood in the corner. The doctor glanced between the two brothers before looking at me.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you but if I had to quess I would say your injuries where not as bad as the ER doctor and surgeon first thought” The doctor turned on his chair to face me.

“What makes you say that?” Sam jumped in before anyone could say anything else.

“The x-rays show that the ankle and wrist fractures are well on their way to healing something I wouldn’t expect to see if they were in fact fractured as bad as the original x-rays show” The doctor looked to Sam. Sam shot a concerned look at Dean. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“So what does that mean for me?”

“I’d say in 4 weeks we could look at taking both casts off, of course I would want to do another x-ray first”.

“Wow that’s great news” I smiled.

“For now I would like to check your stitches then you can be on your way”

I nodded and held my arm out to the doctor. He slowly set about unwrapping my arm. When the bandage was completely off he pulled back the gauze. A surprised gasp left his lips and his eyes went wide.

“I, uh, I can take the stitches out if you want the cut looks almost completely healed so I don’t think you need to keep them in” The doctor tried to cover his surprise. I nodded and the doctor went around collecting what he needed to remove the stitches. Sam excused himself from the room. I looked over at Dean knowing exactly what Sam was thinking in that moment. Dean said he would go talk to him and left too leaving me with the doctor who had returned and started removing stitches from my arm.

…

I followed Sam out of the hospital back to the car where I found him rummaging through the boot. He stood up and looked at me holding Dads Journal.

“Sam it’s not what you think” I said walking over and taking the Journal.

“Then what Dean, we both know she shouldn’t have healed that quickly” Sam pointed a finger back at the hospital.

“If I tell you, you cannot tell her”.

“Tell me what? What do you know?” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

“She’s part Angel Sammy”.

“Part Angel?” Sam chuckled and looked away from me.

“I’m serious”.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…”.

…

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound…” Sam spotted me and stopped talking. He nodded at me and moved to climb into the Impala.

“What’s his problem?” I asked hobbling up beside Dean on a crutch I was now able to use.

“Just freaked out by your fast healing is all” Dean smiled at me.

“You told him I’m not anything you hunt?” I asked.

“Yeah, not sure he believes me thought but he’ll get over it” Dean open the door and climbed into the Impala. I opened the backdoor of the Impala and slid in tossing the crutch on the floor. At least I didn’t have to wait to much longer to be rid of the Winchesters.

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 6

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.5k word count

summary Dean finally acknowledges his feelings out loud.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings mentions of stillbirth

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

“Dean, Dean!” A voice pierced through the ringing in my ears, dragging me out of a thick fog. I struggled to piece together what had happened. The last thing I remembered was being in the Impala—Y/N’s Impala—with her… but where was she?

“Dean, can you hear me?” The voice called again, more urgent this time.

“Y/N,” I groaned, but it wasn’t her voice.

A splash of water hit my face, jolting me awake. My eyes shot open, and I found myself sitting at the edge of a pool. The memories came rushing back in a flood: the hunt, Y/N’s anger, following her into the pool... and then nothing. That thing had taken control—I was possessed. My gaze was locked on the pool in front of me when two figures emerged from the water.

“Dean, I need help,” Castiel appeared, cradling Y/N’s limp body.

“No, no, no!” Panic surged through me as I scrambled to pull her from the pool. She wasn’t breathing, and there was blood—so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. My mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation. I couldn’t lose her, not now. Autopilot kicked in as I grabbed her and bolted for the front door, adrenaline fueling my every step. Cas was right behind me, shattering the glass doors with a wave of his hand so I could barrel through without slowing down.

“Here,” Cas handed me her car keys. I didn’t question where he got them—I didn’t care. I flung her into the passenger seat and jumped into the driver’s side, flooring it toward the hospital. As I drove, my mind raced to come up with a story. Maybe she fell into the pool from a second-story window? Or maybe it was a stupid dare gone wrong? I was grasping at straws when a sharp cry of pain and coughing snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alive,” I breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at her.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she spat out, wincing as she tried to move in her seat.

“Me? What did I do?” I asked, concern and anger mixing in my voice.

“You—or the spirit that possessed you—attacked me,” she shivered, her voice trembling.

“Are you cold? I could turn the heat on,” I offered, reaching for the heater.

“Nah, it’s broken…” she muttered, her voice trailing off as she slumped unconscious in her seat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath, realizing it was probably the shock setting in. I pushed the car to its limits, and within 15 minutes, I was skidding to a stop outside the hospital. I yanked her out of the passenger seat and rushed inside, shouting for help as I burst through the doors. She was cold, but she was still breathing.

A nurse quickly appeared with a bed, urging me to lay her down. I hesitated, torn between the need to get her help and the overwhelming urge to protect her. I was frozen, unable to let go. A nurse gently placed a hand on my arm, grounding me just enough to let her go.

“It’s okay, she’ll be safe—I promise,” the nurse reassured me.

I nodded, reluctant but knowing I had to trust her. I gently placed Y/N on the bed, watching as they wheeled her away, shouting about trauma shears and portable X-rays.

“Y/N’s a fighter. She’ll be alright,” the nurse spoke up, her voice firm yet kind.

“How do you know her?” I asked, surprised as I turned to face her.

“We went to high school together; we were best friends,” she smiled nostalgically. “After graduation, I chose med school, and she pursued more creative endeavors.”

“I’m Dean,” I introduced myself, holding out my hand.

“Oh, the new boyfriend Rachael was talking about,” she said with a warm smile, shaking my hand. “I’m Lina. I have to say, I’m surprised she finally found someone interested in her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt a sudden, protective urge rise within me.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Lina clarified quickly. “She’s just… unique. We went to an all-girls Catholic school, and we used to have yearly dances with the boys’ school. None of the guys ever gave her much attention. She wasn’t the typical girly-girl. She never took their crap, never pretended to be something she wasn’t, and she never compromised her values. Honestly, I was always a bit jealous of how she could just be herself without a care in the world.”

“Yeah, well, it’s their loss,” I replied, a mix of pride and realization in my voice. “She’s amazing—so strong and independent. Nothing slows her down. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have her in my life.” The truth of my words hit me hard, but I knew I could never tell her. I could never burden her—or anyone—with what came with being close to me.

“Come on, let’s fill out her paperwork,” Lina guided me out of the emergency room into the waiting area. She handed me a clipboard with a stack of forms and left me to fill them out.

First name: Y/N Last name: Age: Date of Birth: Place of Birth:

I sighed, staring at the empty spaces on the form. I knew so little about her—just bits and pieces. She’d mentioned she was 22, right? That would make her birth year 1993, but what about the day and month? And where in Australia was she born? Australia is a vast place. Frustration gnawed at me as I realized how little I knew about someone I cared so deeply for. I was about to give up when I heard the familiar flutter of wings, and Castiel appeared beside me.

“January 24, 1993,” Cas said, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

"What?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice.

"Her date of birth is January 24, 1993. Last name: Y/L/N. Place of birth: Goulburn, NSW," Cas rattled off the details like they were common knowledge.

"How did you know that? The 24th—that’s my birthday," I said, looking away from the clipboard, disbelief creeping in.

“The day she was born, something went wrong,” Cas began, his tone unwavering. “She died, but she wasn’t supposed to, so God had me bring her back.”

“What? Did God have some grand plan for her?” I threw my hands in the air, frustration bubbling over.

“I’m not at liberty to say. It’s God’s plan—only He knows,” Cas replied, his words only adding to my irritation.

“If you saved her then, why can’t you fix her now?” I almost yelled, my voice rising with desperation.

“It’s not that simple, Dean,” Cas responded, calm yet infuriating.

“How? Just lay your hands on her and heal her!” I shouted, attracting glances from the people in the waiting room.

“Dean,” Cas said more softly, “when I brought her back to life, it took a piece of myself. A piece she still carries within her. It will help save her.”

“So, what? She’s part angel?” I asked, disbelief and a hint of awe mingling in my voice.

“Yes,” Cas answered simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Great, well now I’ve heard it all.” I shook my head, overwhelmed by everything. I turned back to the paperwork, but to my surprise, it was already filled in. When I looked up, Cas was gone. Typical. I dropped the pen onto the clipboard, running my hand over my face, trying to process everything.

“Dean?” A nurse appeared beside me, her presence pulling me back to the moment.

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied, standing up quickly.

“Y/N is awake and asking for you,” she smiled gently. “Be warned, we haven’t quite got her fixed up yet, but she won’t calm down without you, she says.”

I nodded and followed her through a maze of hallways, the sound of Y/N’s frantic cries growing louder. At some point, the nurse had taken the clipboard from my hands, freeing them to hold Y/N’s and help calm her down.

“Dean,” she choked out between sobs, her voice trembling with fear.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You need to let them help you,” I stayed calm, trying to be the steady presence she needed right now.

The medical staff cut away her clothes and removed her boots as I held her hand tight, not daring to let go. They managed to take X-rays after I reassured her that I’d be just outside the room, even though I knew hospitals terrified her. When they placed the X-rays on the lightbox, I saw the extent of the damage—her ankle and wrist were badly broken. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing I had done this to her, even if I had no control over myself.

I noticed a deep cut running down her forearm. A doctor was doing his best to clean and stitch it up while I kept Y/N’s eyes on me, trying to distract her from the pain. Someone mentioned needing surgery, but I was too focused on her to really take it in. My heart broke seeing her like this—so scared, so small in that hospital bed. When they finally stitched up her arm and bandaged it, a nurse came up beside me.

“Sir, I need you to sign this paperwork for us to go ahead and get her to surgery,” a nurse said, thrusting a clipboard into my face. I quickly signed it and handed it back.

“Please don’t leave me,” Y/N whimpered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you, I promise,” I replied, leaning down to kiss her gently on the top of her head before I could stop myself. I felt an instant sense of calm wash over her from such a simple gesture.

“We’ll take good care of her. If you could go back to the waiting room, someone will come get you when she’s out,” the doctor explained, helping to wheel her out of the room. I reluctantly released her hand as they carried her away.

I made my way slowly back into the waiting room. It felt like time stood still the moment she left the room and disappeared from my sight. I realized how deeply I was in love with her, and she had been clear about how she felt about me. I hated seeing her hurt and had done everything I could to protect her from this. Now, it felt like the only way to keep her safe was to keep her close, yet at arm's length. Maybe if I kept her nearby but distant, she would be safe. Or perhaps pushing her so far away she would never want to see me again.

“Dean! Dean! Where is she?” Sam burst into the waiting room, his voice urgent.

“Slow down, you gargantuan freak,” Theresa called, running full speed behind him.

“What do you care? You don’t like her,” I snapped, standing up to face Sam.

“Yeah, but you do, and I’m obviously not going to change your mind,” Sam sighed, exasperated.

“Well, Sammy, turns out you’re right. She’s a distraction, and I just want to get as far from her as possible,” I replied, trying to maintain a straight face.

“Dean, she loves you. You’d be breaking her heart,” Theresa said softly, almost whispering.

“She’ll get over it,” I responded curtly, turning to leave the hospital. I walked out, leaving Sam and Theresa in shocked silence.

The light was so bright, and the room was spinning. I groaned and tried to sit up.

“Whoa there, take it easy,” I felt a large hand gently push me back into the bed.

“Sam? What are you doing here? Where’s Dean?” I asked, closing my eyes, hoping the spinning would stop.

“To be honest, I have no clue where Dean is, and I’m not sure why I’m here either,” Sam let out an awkward chuckle. “Look, I know I haven’t been the nicest person, but my brother—he loves you, and I guess I just have to accept that. So, truce?”

“Truce,” I replied, attempting a small smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace.

“OH. MY. GOSH. YOU’RE AWAKE!” Theresa suddenly exclaimed, startling me from where she had been sleeping against Sam.

“Woman, turn the volume down,” I groaned, still feeling disoriented.

I opened my eyes to look at her. She had jumped up from her seat and bolted to the side of my bed, pulling me into an awkward hug. Over her shoulder, I could see Sam watching her with a soft smile. The way he looked at her—the twinkle in his eye—it was clear. He was in love with her. I gave him a knowing look, and he smiled in acknowledgment before glancing at the floor. He realized he couldn’t continue acting the way he had been without being insanely hypocritical.

A doctor came in to speak with me not long after. Luckily, he said they didn’t need to use any rods or screws in my arm or ankle. I would be off my feet for at least ten weeks with my ankle, and my wrist might take sixteen weeks to heal completely, he guessed. He organized for me to come back in two weeks for follow-up X-rays and said he would be able to tell me more then. After prescribing some antibiotics, he sent me on my way.

Sam and Theresa helped me out to my car, with Sam driving us back to the hotel and dropping Theresa home on the way. Since I couldn’t use crutches, Sam had to help me into the room, placing me carefully on Dean’s bed before checking the bathroom.

“Dean’s not here, is he?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, but we’re going to have to check out of here tomorrow and find somewhere else to stay until you’re healed up,” Sam said, looking out the window.

“You’re really going to stay and look after me?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Sam shrugged, offering a small smile.

“Well, thank you,” I smiled back, genuinely touched by his kindness.

“Your mom mentioned something about heading back to Sweden, so maybe we could crash there for a while?” Sam suggested, sounding hopeful.

"Uh yeah, she’ll likely be gone for the foreseeable future, so that would work," I nodded, trying to pull myself further up on the bed to lie down. Sam quickly jumped up, helping me get more comfortable before offering to grab us some food. He took the keys to my car and left the room.

I settled in and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Dean was walking through the door.

"Rise and shine, your dinner’s here, and if you don’t eat it, I will," Dean said, tossing a bag at me.

"Touch my food, and I’ll chew your arm off," I retorted, grabbing the bag that had landed against my side.

"We have to be out of this room by 10 a.m., so hurry up and eat," Dean grumbled.

"Why weren’t you at the hospital?" I asked, unwrapping a burger and taking a bite.

"Was I supposed to be at the hospital?" Dean questioned, busy packing his stuff into his duffel before leaving the room.

"You said you’d be there when I woke up," I reminded him when he walked back in.

"I said what I had to so you would calm down," Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. "Now hurry up and eat. I want to be out of here in the next hour," he said, walking off again with more of his and Sam’s stuff.

Caught off guard by Dean’s sudden change in attitude, I decided not to push the conversation further and instead focused on my food. After eating in silence, Sam helped me to my car while Dean went to check us out of the room. Sam drove my car while Dean drove his, both of us heading back to my mom’s house.

I stayed silent even once we arrived. The only time I spoke was to ask Sam to help me to my bed. Once I was comfortable, I closed my eyes and decided to ignore the brothers, who were busy in the lounge room outside my door, going back and forth about what they were supposed to do while I recovered.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 16

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2.4k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings MDNI 18+ unprotect p in v, oral F recieving

Authors Note: I'm terrible at writing 18+ content so sorry in advance.

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

By the time I got back to the bunker, the plastic bags were digging into my hands, and my mind was still spinning from what Cas had said. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter.

The bunker was quiet as usual, save for the faint sound of metal clicking in the lounge room. I peeked in to see Dean sitting on the couch, a gun laid out in front of him as he cleaned it with practiced ease. His bandaged hand moved a little slower than usual, but he didn’t seem to care.

As I started unpacking the bags, I felt his eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard the soft scrape of the gun being set down on the table.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Dean asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

I froze for a moment, my hands still on a carton of eggs. “What do you mean?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. “I know that look. Something’s weighing on you. What happened?”

I sighed, abandoning the act. There was no point in trying to hide it from Dean—he could always see right through me. I turned to face him, leaning against the counter.

“Cas came to see me,” I said quietly.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from curiosity to something darker. “What did he say?”

I hesitated, but then the words came spilling out—the whole conversation, God’s so-called plan, and how we were apparently breaking it. By the time I finished, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, though I blinked them back.

Dean stood up, pacing a few steps before turning to face me, his green eyes sharp. “You can’t listen to a word Cas says about that crap. He’s been too close to God’s playbook for too long—he doesn’t get it. We’re not pawns, Y/N. Not you, not me.”

“But if we’re really screwing up some grand plan—”

“I don’t give a damn about his plan,” Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “I care about you. About us. Whatever comes at us, we’ll handle it. Together.”

I looked at him, his determination so unwavering that it made some of the tension in my chest ease.

Dean must have noticed, because his tone softened as he added, “Look, Sam and Theresa are out on their date night. Maybe we should have one too.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite myself. “A date night? In the bunker?”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, his usual cocky grin starting to appear. “I’ll grab some beers, we’ll put on a movie, and it’ll be just as good as anything those two are doing.”

I reached into one of the bags and pulled out a tray of ground beef. “How about we start with this? I make a killer burger.”

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, sweetheart, if your burgers are half as good as your chili, I’m sold.”

“Are you really still going on about my chilli all these months later?”

I laughed softly, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to make these every week.”

As I started pulling out spices and ingredients, Dean moved closer, grabbing a cutting board and a knife. “Alright, chef, tell me what to do.”

“Step one,” I teased. “Don’t get in my way.”

Dean chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a little while, the kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling meat and lighthearted banter, the weight of Cas’s words temporarily pushed aside. And for now, that was enough.

…

The smell of freshly cooked burgers filled the bunker as Dean and I settled on the couch, plates balanced on our laps. The Nightmare Before Christmas was playing on the TV, and I couldn’t help but hum along to the opening song between bites.

Christmas was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark of excitement. I glanced over at Dean, who was completely focused on his burger, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, “we should really do something for Christmas this year.”

Dean arched an eyebrow at me, chewing thoughtfully. “Like what?”

I grinned. “The whole shebang! Christmas shopping with Sam and Theresa, decorating the bunker, cooking a huge lunch—turkey, ham, roast veggies, all of it. Eggnog, gingerbread, maybe even one of those cheesy holiday movies Sam secretly loves.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheesy holiday movies, huh? Can’t wait to see Sam squirm through that.”

“Exactly!” I said, my excitement growing. “It could be fun, Dean. We’ve never really done Christmas right, you know? Not like this.”

Dean tilted his head, his smile softening as he watched me ramble on. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

“Not yet,” I admitted, taking another bite of my burger. “But I will. I was thinking about dragging Sam and Theresa out to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow. There’s gotta be a few stores still decked out with trees and lights. We could pick up some decorations for the bunker.”

Dean shook his head, his grin turning into a smirk. “Decorating the bunker? You do realize this place isn’t exactly a Hallmark set, right?”

“That’s the point,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “It needs some holiday magic. Imagine it—twinkling lights in the library, a tree in the corner, stockings hung up in the war room.”

Dean let out a small laugh, shaking his head again, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at me, his expression softer now. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“I am,” I admitted, glancing back at the TV as Jack Skellington started singing about Christmas Town. “I just think we deserve to have something nice, you know? After everything.”

Dean didn’t respond right away, and when I looked over, he was staring at me, his burger forgotten on his plate.

“What?” I asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low. “Just... you’re really something when you’re excited like this.”

My cheeks warmed, and I quickly turned back to the screen, trying to hide my smile.

Dean might not have been entirely convinced about the Christmas spirit, but I could tell he didn’t mind indulging me. And for now, that was enough.

…

The plates were abandoned on the coffee table, the remains of our impromptu dinner forgotten as Dean and I found ourselves tangled up in each other once more. His lips on mine, the warmth of his touch—it was all-consuming, electric.

Dean grabbed my hand and lead me to his room, the world outside the door fading away as we gave ourselves over to each other completely. He freed me from my clothes, allowing his hands to trace each inch of skin that was revealed to him. Once he had me completely nakes he pushed me gently onto his bed, hovering above me. He connected our lips in a hungry kiss, stealing my breath away. He kissed slowly from my neck down to my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth sucking and licking before moving on to the next. I bit down on my lip to keep from being loud.

“It’s just us here sweetheart no need to be quiet” Dean looked up at me like a man starved of touch.

He returned to my breasts earning a breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my nipple as he kissed in and moved on to kiss down my stomach. He reached the place I needed him most. He spread my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing them out to the sides opening me up in front of him. He licked his lips before placing a soft kiss on the sensitive bud waiting for his attention.

“If you want me to stop just say so” Dean looked up at me. I mustered up small nod before looking off to the side now embarrassed to be naked in front of Dean while he was still completely clothed.

Dean made himself comfortable between my legs before placing my legs over his shoulders. He licked one line up my folds causing me to shake and let out a small squeal mixed with a moan. He immediately went to work licking and sucking at my clit causing my back to arch. The moan that escaped my lips was nothing short of pornographic. Dean knew what he was doing with his tongue and mouth. And he knew it. I could feel the smirk that was plastered on his face. I could feel the heat building in my belly.

“D..Dean I’m going to…” The band tightening in my belly snapped before I could saying anything more. I could feel my legs shaking. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure wash over as Dean worked me through it.

Dean stood up and told me to move up the bed as he pulled his shirt off. I wriggled up the bed not taking my eyes of Dean, wanting to see every part of him. As he pulled down his pants his dick now free from its denim cage sprung up and smacked his stomach. I was far from a virgin but never had I seen a dick so long and thick as his. I was sure he was going to break me. Dean, however, quickly ruined the moment when he hit the ground with a crash as he tried to remove his boots. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. He gave me a cheesy grin from the floor as he got his boots and jeans off. Once he was completely stripped he climbed onto the bed taking his place in between my legs.

“Just remember if you want me to stop…”

“Just say so I know” I smiled up at him.

Dean dipped his head, capture my lips in a kiss full of love. While I was distracted by his lips he took the chance to sneak a hand between us and guide himself into me. The sudden stretch caused me to gasp, throwing my head back onto Deans pillows. Dean stilled once he was completely inside giving me a chance to adjust. But now being in this position I froze up. I think Dean could feel something was wrong. He leaned down and kissed me. The movement caused him to move inside me sending an intense feeling of pleasure ripping through me. I moaned into his mouth as he began to move. Slowly at first but soon he began to move faster. Soon he had my legs up over his shoulders as he found that one spot deep inside me that he hit with precision with each thrust of his hips. Before I knew it I was a babbling mess under his as my release hit me for the second time. Deans movements became sloppy and I felt his hips come to a stuttering holt as his own release washed over him.

 The way he held me, whispered my name like it was the only thing that mattered—it was as though all the tension, all the fear and doubt, had melted into something softer, something unbreakable.

Afterward, I lay against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily trailed up and down my arm, a comforting gesture that made me feel safe, grounded.

“Never thought we’d get here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Yeah, well... guess the universe finally got something right.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. “Let’s not jinx it.”

His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Not a chance.”

Before long, the comforting rise and fall of his chest lulled me into sleep.

A sound startled me awake—a flutter of wings that sent my heart racing. My eyes flew open to see Castiel standing at the foot of the bed, his expression a mix of disappointment and worry.

“Cas,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with sleep. Dean didn’t stir beside me, and I turned to him in confusion.

“He won’t wake,” Cas said flatly, his gaze steady on me. “I’ve ensured it.”

My stomach twisted at his words. “What do you want?”

Cas stepped closer, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. And I’m scared.”

“Scared?” I echoed, sitting up carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t bear the thought of seeing my daughter or my granddaughters hurt,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

I froze, the words crashing over me like cold water. “Your what?”

Cas sighed, his usual stoicism faltering. “When you were born, you were dead. There was no life in you. Your parents prayed, begged for a miracle... and I answered. I gave you part of my grace to save you, Y/N. You are my daughter—a Nephilim.”

The world tilted on its axis, and I stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said. “I’m... I’m a Nephilim?”

“That is why you heal so quickly,” Cas explained, his tone measured but soft. “It’s also why God’s plans have been so... complicated where you and Dean are concerned.”

“But the granddaughters—”

“You’re pregnant,” Cas interrupted, his voice low. “With identical twin girls.”

My breath caught, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. “That’s not possible. I can’t—”

Cas held up a hand. “You can. And you are.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know what’s at stake,” Cas said, his tone firm now. “And because... I’ve said too much already.”

Before I could say another word, he vanished, leaving only the faint sound of wings in his wake.

“Cas?” Dean’s groggy voice broke the silence, and I turned to see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “I heard him. Where is he?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The weight of Cas’s revelations had left me rooted to the spot. Dean frowned, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I stared at him, wondering how I was supposed to tell him what I’d just learned.

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.

My Upcoming WIPs!

You suddenly decided to take the leap with Don Flack on a whim. In less then a week you'll be living together, with a child and your father Mac Taylors disapproval. This is certainly not how your suppose to start a relationship.

Your a firefighter with the 118. Your engaged to Evan Buckley who you've been madly in love with for 4 years. Life is perfect. That is until a late night in the fire house sees a spark between you and your Captain Bobby Nash who happens to be a married man.

When the new firefighter in the house Eddie Diaz becomes best friends with your boyfriend Evan Buckley you can't help but notice a change in him. A bad change. Late nights and hushed conversations are just the beginning of this thrill ride.

Hello, do you do Don Flack history?

Sorry if this isn't the answer your looking for because I'm not 100% sure what exactly your asking but I do write for Don Flack. I have a Don Flack story I started ages ago but never finished that I would love to finish eventually.

Oh no mistakes were made! Tumblr what have you done to me!!!! I confidently finished and submitted my Web Design assignment only to then go back and look at the Tumblr screenshot I used for my example and welp....

I am mortified! My Uni assignment has now been smut bombed and by Eddie Munson none the less!

The Dating Odyssey: Jonathan

Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Jim Hopper/Jonathan Byers x fem!reader

1.6k word count

fluff, idiot reader, reader who can't say no, choose your own adventure-ish

Part 1 / Steves Ending / Eddies Ending / Jims Ending / Billy's Ending

Authors note: And so we reach the final part. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you waited for Jonathan. He called you a few days after your date his shyness amplified over the phone. "Would you like to go on another date? I'd love to, uh, capture you, I mean, take your picture, in different settings."

It was endearingly awkward, and you couldn't help but agree. Here he was, looking even more nervous than on your first date, clutching an old camera with a worn leather strap. "Hi," he mumbled, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"Hey, Jonathan," You smiled. "Ready to unleash your inner paparazzo?"

He chuckled, a dry, self-deprecating sound. "Something like that. But more... artistic, I hope."

You started at a nearby park. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, dappling the path with golden light. Jonathan fumbled a bit, muttering under his breath about focus and aperture, but when he finally looked up, his eyes held a quiet intensity. "There," he said, a shy smile gracing his lips. "You look... radiant."

There was something magical about seeing yourself through his lens. In the photos, the park wasn't just a park anymore; it was a scene from a dream, and you, the unexpected protagonist.

Next, you wandered through a quirky antique store. Jonathan captured you amidst dusty gramophones and chipped porcelain dolls, a playful glint in your eyes. He even snapped a candid shot of you trying on a feather boa, the laughter lines around your eyes crinkling joyously.

His shyness seemed to melt away with each click of the shutter. He talked about his passion for photography, the way light and shadow could tell a story, the fleeting beauty he found in the everyday. With the last of the photos taken Jonathan had spoken off heading home to his home-made photo processing lab to develop the photos. It didn’t take much pressing on your end to convince him to take you with him to see the photos develop. The drive out to his house was extremely quiet. Jonathan spared a few awkward glances to you during the drive, it was evident by the look on his face that he was nervous about having someone watch him develop his photographs.

The silence in the dimly lit photo lab was broken only by the sound of music playing in the background. Jonathan, his brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously hung the film canisters from a rack, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he caught you watching.

"You sure about this?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible above the music.

"Positive," You grinned, leaning against the counter. "I can't wait to see how they turned out."

He offered a shy smile back. "Me neither, to be honest. It's one thing taking the pictures, another entirely seeing them come to life."

The photo lab was a far cry from the bustling coffee shops and sun-drenched parks where your dates usually unfolded. But here, with the pungent smell of chemicals hanging in the air, a different kind of intimacy blossomed. You were sharing a secret, a peek into the process behind the magic of capturing a moment.

Jonathan, usually so reserved, transformed into a focused maestro. He explained the steps in hushed tones, a gentle pride radiating from him as he spoke about the dance of light and dark on the film. He described the anticipation of waiting for the image to appear in the developer bath, a baptism into reality for the fleeting moments he'd captured.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched in fascination. The nervous fumbling you'd witnessed the first time he held his camera had vanished, replaced by a quiet confidence. He moved with an almost ritualistic grace, his movements practiced yet imbued with a reverence for the process.

Finally, the first print emerged from the fixer bath, dripping with a clear, pearlescent sheen. Jonathan held it up to the dim light, his breath catching in his throat.

"There you are," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

It was the picture from the park, the one bathed in golden sunlight. But seeing it here, fresh from the developer, held a different kind of magic. The light seemed to glow from within, your smile radiating a newfound serenity.

He met your eyes, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Not bad, huh?"

"It's incredible," You breathed, reaching out to touch the wet paper. "It's like seeing myself through your eyes."

The next few minutes became a blur of anticipation and awe. Each photograph emerged from the chemical bath, a story revealed in silver and light. The playful chaos of the antique store, the quiet intimacy of the bookstore, the city skyline transformed into a canvas of dreams under the starlit night – each image brought back a flood of memories, enhanced by Jonathan's unique perspective.

When the last print emerged, shimmering wet in the dim light, a comfortable silence settled between you. You stood there for a moment, surrounded by the hum of music and the faint scent of chemicals, a connection forged in the shared experience of giving birth to these memories.

Finally, Jonathan turned to you, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. "So," he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What do you think?"

You smiled, your heart brimming with a warmth that had nothing to do with the chemical baths. "I think," You said, stepping closer, "we have a lot more stories to tell together."

Stepping out of the photo lab, the crisp night air felt like a welcome slap after the chemical haze inside. The streetlights cast a warm glow on Jonathan's face, his smile brighter than any neon sign. "Ready?" he asked, holding out the manila envelope filled with your memories.

You nodded, taking the envelope from him. Its weight felt significant now, a tangible record of the day. A day you didn’t want to end. You walked in comfortable silence to his car, a quiet understanding hanging between you. The drive to your apartment was filled with stolen glances. Each time your glances met, a shy smile would bloom on his face, mirrored by yours.

The radio played a slow ballad, the melody weaving itself into the comfortable silence. Jonathan seemed lost in his thoughts, a contemplative smile playing on his lips. You couldn't help but take a closer look at him in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. He looked different somehow – more confident, perhaps, with a spark of pride in his eyes.

Suddenly, he caught you staring. A blush crept up his neck as he quickly looked away, muttering something about taking a wrong turn. You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tense silence.

"It's okay," You teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "I like this detour."

He chuckled, then finally stopped at a red light, turning to face you. "Me too," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

His eyes held a depth you hadn't seen before, an unspoken question lurking beneath the surface. You felt your cheeks burning, a delicious mix of anticipation and nerves swirling in your stomach. Leaning forward, you brushed a stray strand of hair off his forehead.

"You're amazing," You whispered, surprising even yourself with the boldness.

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze so intense it stole your breath away. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a smile that spoke volumes more than any words could.

The light turned green, and Jonathan pulled back into traffic. But the quiet magic of the moment lingered. You talked in snippets, about the pictures, about your shared dreams, about anything and everything that came to mind. Yet, the silences felt comfortable, filled with a new understanding that transcended words.

Finally, you pulled up in front of your apartment building. The engine hummed softly, neither of you wanting the night to end. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a question he didn't dare voice.

You reached over, your fingers brushing against his as you turned off the radio. "Would you like to see the pictures again?" you asked, offering the envelope.

A grin spread across his face, chasing away the nervousness. "I thought you'd never ask."

We walked up to your apartment, hand in hand, the weight of the envelope feeling lighter now, replaced by the warmth of connection. Stepping inside, you flicked on the lights, casting the room in a soft glow. He pulled out the pictures, and you spent the next hour reliving your adventure through Jonathan's lens. The pictures weren't just photographs anymore; they were keys that unlocked a treasure trove of shared memories, each one etched not just on film, but on your hearts.

As you sat staring at the photographs in the comfort of your apartment, he confessed, "You inspire me, you know? You make me see the world differently."

"Your greatest muse, huh?" You teased, remembering the phone call.

His blush deepened. "Well," he stammered, "maybe it's a bit too soon to say that, but..." he trailed off, then took a deep breath. "There's something about you. You light up a room, even with just a smile."

Walking him back to his car, the weight of his camera a comforting reminder of the afternoon, you realized it wasn't just him who'd been inspired. Jonathan, with his quiet passion and shy observations, had opened your eyes to the beauty in the ordinary.

As you reached his car, he handed me a small, worn print – one from our first date of you trying to take a photo of a lone flower. "For your inspiration," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took the picture, the warmth of a blush echoing in your cheeks. "Thank you, Jonathan," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "You're my muse too." It felt true. In his own unique way, Jonathan had shown you the beauty of being seen, truly seen, and you couldn't wait to see where this shy photographer and his camera would take you next.

The excitement is Real!

I managed to snag a ticket for All Hell Breaks Loose 12! I'll be going to Jared and Jensen's panel and meeting Rob Benedict and Richard Speight Jr! I'm beyond excited! This is my first ever convention too so double the excitement!