call me bea ;

Stackednatural- 111/327

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 258.5/327 (part 1)

Cruel World: Chapter Twenty

Everything was perfect—you were about to welcome a baby girl into the world and finally leave the life of hunting behind. Sam was supposed to have it all: the house, the family, maybe even a dog in the backyard. But before the three of you could begin your new life in an old craftsman home on the prairie, the apocalypse arrived.

All Sam had to do was lock Lucifer in the cage…

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader, Dean Winchester x OFC

WC: 5.9K

CW: 18+ MDNI, canon-type violence/injury, blood, wound care, mild angst/emotional tension, language, implied smut, mentioned character death, some sweet, tooth rotting fluff these idiots deserve <3

A/n: this one's a little longer as I'm finally wrapping up my first multi-part fic! I separated this chapter into two parts to bring two storylines together.

Thank you to everyone who's come along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy!

Cruel World masterlist

“Share my body and my mind with you, that’s all over now. Did what I had to do, I found another anyhow.” - Cruel World, Lana Del Rey

𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚

Dean had never been on that side of the line.

Waiting and wondering.

Pacing in front of the same row of motel rooms where she’d left him. Holding the empty coffee cup—her number scribbled across the cardboard sleeve in fading blue ink—in one hand and his phone in the other. He stared at the numbers like there was a punchline hidden somewhere among them.

He’d never been the one wondering how soon was too soon to call.

It had been two weeks since Rhi had pulled out of the parking lot in her old Bronco, glancing over her shoulder at him one last time.

He’d tried like hell to forget her.

It was pointless.

It wasn’t just that she was pretty, though that certainly wasn’t helping. She wasn’t the kind of woman Dean usually noticed first in a crowded bar. No impossible curves. No bright lipstick. No easy invitation.

Rhi made people earn her attention. And for some reason, he wanted it. She didn’t buy his “cowboy Casanova” act—as you’d once called it—which meant he didn’t feel the need to perform around her.

Without the act, he was just Dean. A guy who’d only ever been himself around a handful of people.

Leads about the wolves had dried up and Crowley was getting impatient. Maybe he could call her under the guise of chasing down leads. 

That might give her the impression that he’s using her. The thought made him shudder. 

Finally, he dialed her number with a shaky hand and continued to pace while he waited for her to deny his call. 

After three rings, he was ready to hang up. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of the voice he’d been unable to forget.

“Hello?”

Silence. His mind went blank. He’d even forgotten her name. 

“Hey…Rhi.”

Nope. He’d forgotten his name. 

“Uh. It’s Dean—“

Nailed it, he thought. 

“Dean…”

His heart sank at the sound of her struggling to remember him. 

“Winchester.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

If he had died, he had just discovered a new circle of hell. One that Lucifer wouldn’t even visit. 

“Oh…I’m sorry—“

“Kidding! I was wondering if you’d ever call.”

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window outside of his motel room. He looked as flustered as Sam did when Dean brought him to a strip club for his eighteenth birthday. Ears tipped pink with an involuntary, nervous smile tugging at his cheeks. 

Rhi agreed to “assist” Dean on the case to track down the werewolves. Research only, he had insisted, to which she rolled her eyes. Her defiance frustrated the hell out of him. It prevented him from fulfilling his purpose in life—keeping people he cared about safe. 

“Haven’t you died a time or two, Dean? Why are you so worried about something happening to me?”

He couldn’t answer that. Not without spilling his guts, because he knew Rhi could see through his bullshit. He’d risk telling her that, even though he barely knew her, he didn’t want to lose her. 

“Shit shit shit shit—“

“Language, asshole.” Rhi laughed carefully before wincing. 

While the group was attempting to restrain the werewolves and bring them to Crowley, Rhi had let her guard down within striking distance. Of course, Dean was the only one remotely interested in her injury. He quickly guided her to the Impala. Shrugging off his flannel, he balled it up and pressed it hard against the bleeding wound near her hip.

Dean glared at her in the passenger seat, completely ignoring the blood that was staining the door and leather seat. He reached over her and pulled the fabric back enough to see if she was still bleeding, which resulted in fresh blood rising to the surface. 

“Son of a bitch—I’m takin’ you to the hospital.” 

“You’re not taking me to the hospital.” She winced through gritted teeth. “Just take me back to the motel.” 

His jaw ticked and his knuckles were pale from gripping the steering wheel. 

She was smart enough to know this wasn’t a wound she could stitch in a bathroom. She didn’t want to admit that she was terrified of hospitals. After the death of her parents, she associated the smell of antiseptic in a sterile environment with death. 

He could see the tiny dimples forming when her chin quivered. She pressed the shirt tighter against her hip and tried to cloak her fear with pain. 

Her face softened when she felt Dean grab her hand that was gripping the seat and tracing his thumb across her knuckles.

She was trying like hell to dislike the man. Trying to lessen the sting when he inevitably disappointed her. But doing things like that was making it difficult. He didn’t ask if she was scared. Didn’t patronize or crowd her. Just acknowledging that he saw her and didn’t think any less of her. 

Rhi was going to be down for at least a few weeks while she healed from the deep claw mark to her side. 

Dean stayed in the waiting room, dodging calls from the Campbells and Crowley. Eventually he was able to visit Rhi in her recovery room. 

“Just take me back to the motel and I’ll take it easy for a few days.”

Dean shook his head. 

“No. You don’t need to be staying in some shitty room trying to take care of yourself. Doc said you lost a lot of blood. You need to rest. And you need help keeping the wound clean.”

She folded her arms in front of her chest. 

“Why do you care, Dean?” Her voice was soft as she tried keeping it steady. “I’m basically a stranger to you.”

There was softness beneath the harshness in her expression.

“And what? Do you have some big fancy house with a white picket fence where I can put my feet up for a few weeks?”

“I mean… it doesn’t have a fence.”

The words were out before he could think them through. His stomach fluttered at the idea. He’d need to clear it with Sam and you first. But like you’d reminded him more than once, it was his home too.

Her eyes widened when she realized he wasn’t joking.

For some reason, that reaction stung more than he expected. He wasn’t offering because he felt obligated. He was offering because the thought of dropping her back into a smoke-stained motel room and driving away made his chest feel tight.

“Rhiannon, please—”

“This wasn’t your fault, Dean. You don’t owe me anything.”

She didn’t want him collecting guilt like spare change. Didn’t want to become another person he felt responsible for saving.

“You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. I never shoulda called you.”

He pushed himself out of the chair and paced a few steps away before she could see how much he meant it.

“If we’re being honest…” she said quietly. “I’m glad you called.”

Dean stopped and she felt nervous under his gaze.

“I dunno. You’ve kinda grown on me.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“In a fungus-y sort of way.”

There she is, he thought. He breathed a sharp laugh and his gaze dropped to his feet to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“So you’ll stay with me? No strings attached. Just a free bed and home cooked meals—“

“—please stop talking.” The entire ordeal, coupled with the blood loss she sustained, was brewing a massive headache. She was also trying to fight the  warmth blooming in her chest and spreading to her cheeks. 

Rhi agreed to accept his hospitality for a couple of days only. She made it clear that even though she could barely walk, she could still kick his ass. Or at least shave a few more years off of his life. 

𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤

After checking to make sure Willa hadn’t woken up from Walker’s playful barking, you joined Sam downstairs with Castiel. You were incredibly frustrated by the timing of his arrival. All of your hormonal need had been converted directly into bitterness.

Settling onto the couch beside Sam, he rested a hand on your bare thigh and squeezed lightly, shooting you a quick smile meant only for you. You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder while you collected yourself.

Walker plopped down at the angel’s feet, happily panting and looking up at him for more attention.

Sam’s eyes flicked between the dog and Castiel.

“Oh. Some animals are drawn to celestial beings like myself. Your dog appears to be one of them.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, fascinated by Walker’s immediate attachment to him.

“Anyway…” Sam sighed and began wringing his hands together nervously. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Glancing over his shoulder, he found you already looking at him. You were clearly exhausted and frustrated. But you were still there—at his side like always.

He wanted to minimize the situation. Make it sound smaller than it was. The reality was that his nightmares about Hell, the Cage, and his time without a soul were threatening the fragile peace the two of you had finally found. They were warning signs that the barrier Death had constructed around his memories was failing.

“We’re retired, Sam.”

Your quiet voice reminded him of the conversation you’d had in the car. That the two of you didn’t do solo missions anymore. Not now. Not when you had everything to lose.

Sam explained everything. From the first memories that had started bleeding through. The dreams that no longer felt like dreams. The nightmares of his soul trapped in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael.

The things he’d witnessed through the eyes of a stranger.

The things he’d done to you.

Castiel listened silently, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t know what to do, Cas.” Sam rubbed a hand across his face. “I can’t afford to lose it completely. We can’t keep living like this.”

He looked at you again for reassurance. Your tired eyes were glossy as you listened to him recount the twisted reality of the last six months.

Sam’s return from Hell had really only marked the beginning of yours.

Even though you’d found peace, it had come at a cost.

“I can’t help but feel responsible,” Castiel admitted quietly.

You bit your tongue. Selfishly, irrationally, part of you still resented him. Sam had made his choice to stop the Apocalypse, but that didn’t mean you had forgiven everyone involved. You likely never would. 

Not when you hadn’t even fully forgiven Sam.

“Let me see what I can do.”

Castiel stood and stepped toward Sam. Before you realized what you were doing, you were already on your feet. Your arm moved protectively in front of Sam’s chest.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Your mistrust of him made you question every move he made.

“Y/N, it’s okay.” Sam reached for your hand.

“I need to examine whatever remains of the barrier Death created around his soul,” Castiel explained. “I need to know whether it can be repaired.”

A tense silence settled between you.

“And how exactly are you supposed to do that?” you asked.

“It’s difficult to explain.” Castiel tilted his head slightly. “But it won’t be pleasant.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Sam remembered exactly what that meant. He remembered Castiel discovering his missing soul, and Death forcing it back into place. He knew it was agonizing. But the cost of losing everything was worse.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

Sam’s resigned sigh earned matching looks from both of you.

The three of you moved to the basement—technically the root cellar of the old house—so as not to risk waking Willa.

“Whatever happens,” Sam said firmly, “do not stop him.”

Your face fell as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself. Partially to fight the icy chill pressing in from the cellar, and partially because of the edge in his voice.

It was every bit as terrible to witness as you’d expected. Every instinct in you screamed to eliminate the threat. Instead, you paced nervously, staying close enough to intervene if you needed to.

Even with his belt clenched between his teeth, Sam’s body was screaming for relief. His skin flushed red, every vein standing out beneath the surface. His brows were drawn tightly together.

Eventually, his body relaxed against the chair as he inhaled deeply, not realizing how desperately his lungs had been starved for air.

“Just as I suspected,” Castiel said, almost to himself, as he stepped away from Sam.

Sam was still catching his breath.

“The problem isn’t the wall. The problem is you, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed on him, confusion written plainly across his face.

“There are cracks, so to speak. But they aren’t from age or poor construction.” Castiel tilted his head slightly. “They’re from your inability to let things go.”

The weight of the truth settled over Sam in the form of guilt.

“Using some of my grace, I can seal off the remaining memories. But you have to let them go, Sam.”

You immediately turned toward him, hopeful he was receiving the offer the way you had—as a gift. As a key to finally moving forward.

Instead, he still looked cautious and unconvinced.

Castiel sighed. As an angel, he possessed strong moral convictions—arguably stronger than Sam’s. But he wasn’t burdened by human emotion the way people were.

“Humans do not heal by knowing everything. That is not how you were designed.” Castiel watched as the words settled over him. “They heal by deciding what they can survive without knowing.”

He paused.

“You were given free will, Sam. Use it. I can give you the opportunity to move forward.” His voice finally softened. “Please take it.”

He seemed almost as determined to help Sam as you were. There was desperation in his words and something uniquely human—hope.

“Sam.” Your hand settled on his shoulder, grounding him. “Please.”

He nodded and swallowed around the knot in his throat. There may not have been anything he could have done to make it home to you the night he was locked in the Cage. But now, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his family together.

It was nearly dawn by the time you both made it upstairs. You were exhausted, but neither of you closed your eyes when you crawled into bed together.

Maybe it was the relief of the whole ordeal finally being over.

Maybe it was a side effect of Castiel’s grace.

Whatever it was, you both felt ten years younger. A hundred pounds lighter.

Curled against his side with your legs tangled together, your cheek squished against his chest and his fingers loosely threaded through your hair, you felt like twenty-somethings again.

He still got butterflies when you glanced up at him through your lashes, squinting playfully and asking what he was staring at.

Without warning, he rolled you onto your back and settled between your legs, caging you beneath his broad frame.

Your fingertips traced the hard lines of muscle in his arms before slipping into his hair.

“You should rest, Sammy.”

Your voice and your body were giving him very different messages.

“I know. And I will.”

He punctuated each statement with a kiss trailing along your throat.

“After I take care of you.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and let your eyes flutter shut as Sam turned onto the gravel driveway, trying to stave off the next wave of pain throbbing behind your eyes.

It had been three weeks since Castiel had shown up in the middle of the night and given you your life back.

Three weeks since Sam had finally chosen to let go of the past in exchange for the possibility of a future. A future that apparently included themed birthday parties for toddlers.

“Fucking Valerie,” you muttered under your breath. “Fucking face paint. Fucking glitter. What the fuck.”

“Jesus, sweetheart.” Sam huffed a laugh as he checked the rearview mirror to make sure Willa was still asleep. “The mouth on you.”

“Sorry,” you groaned, eyes still squeezed shut. “My head is killing me and that… toddler mosh pit… didn’t help.”

He fought back a smile. The party—if you could even call it that—had been an hour of pure chaos.

Willa had consumed roughly a month’s worth of artificial sugar and crashed the second she’d been buckled into her car seat. The emotional fallout would arrive before bedtime. He’d stake money on it.

“Well, I’ll take care of getting her inside—”

He trailed off.

You opened your eyes and noticed the Impala sat in its usual spot. Next to it sat an old Ford Bronco that you didn’t recognize.

Your brows furrowed.

“Just wait here.”

Sam’s voice was low, but lacked any real concern. Dean would never bring anyone dangerous around you or Willa. Still, he didn’t take chances anymore.

The smell of bacon grease and the sound of quiet conversation drew him toward the kitchen.

“Dean?”

Rhi stood so quickly her chair nearly tipped backward. One hand moved to grip her side while the other braced against the table. Her eyes never left Sam.

“Hey—relax. Sit down.”

Sam stopped short, immediately noticing her reaction.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, tried calling you.”

After a few rushed introductions, the tension eased slightly—slightly being the operative word.

Curiosity pulled you inside. After letting the door click shut behind you, you were immediately greeted by the familiar sight of Dean in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms loosely crossed over his chest, framed perfectly in the doorway.

He didn’t notice you, though. His attention was fixed on someone else. Someone who made his features soften and those subtle crow’s-feet appear when he smiled.

Willa was asleep on your hip, her head resting on your shoulder. Your view was suddenly obstructed by Sam, who noticed you standing in the entryway. He gently gathered Willa into his arms without waking her.

“Who is that?”

“A friend of Dean’s. I think she’s staying with us for a few days.” He kept his voice low, but Willa stirred anyway. He shot you an apologetic look before carrying her upstairs.

You continued to observe a version of Dean you hadn’t seen in a long time. One of genuine happiness and comfort.

His earthy green eyes had a spark in them again, and there was a healthy glow about him you hadn’t realized had been missing.

Walker wandered into view and sat at Dean’s feet, clearly interested in whatever was on his plate. When Dean glanced around to see if he could get away with sneaking him a scrap of food, his eyes finally landed on you.

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly pulled yourself together. He hadn’t seen you since you’d completely fallen apart in front of him. It had only been about a month, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Even though you felt like a train wreck standing there, he seemed to immediately recognize the dramatic improvement in your condition.

You finally willed yourself forward into the kitchen and were overwhelmed by the mixture of scents, making your nose wrinkle. Strong coffee, breakfast food, and the hunter special—gun oil and motel soap. All familiar, but overpowering with the migraine you’d been fighting all day.

“You okay?”

Dean’s familiar, steady voice centered you.

You hummed and nodded, offering a quick smile to compensate for what your body language was probably saying.

Dean introduced you to Rhi, who waved politely mid-chew. She certainly looked the part of a young hunter. Edgy, alert, and hyperaware of her surroundings.

But there was more to it than that. She was pretty in an effortless way. The kind that looked good in harsh motel lighting and after sleeping in her truck. The kind that didn’t seem to require any effort at all.

You glanced down at yourself. There was still glitter on your sleeve. Probably in your hair, too.

“Rhi, this is Y/N.”

You smiled politely while tugging your sweater over your hand and attempting to rub at the glitter stain. It only spread the irritating substance.

Dean briefly explained the situation while watching your expression for any sign of apprehension.

“Well, we’ve all been there.” You gestured toward the bandage peeking out beneath the hem of her shirt. “Everyone in this house has, anyway.”

She tilted her head curiously.

“You’re a hunter too?”

You let out a weak laugh.

“Once upon a time, yeah. We had the opportunity to retire and took it.”

Almost on cue, a tired cry echoed from upstairs, followed by a frustrated sigh and the familiar creak of old floorboards beneath Sam’s feet.

You used it as an excuse to end the increasingly uncomfortable interaction.

“I’ll set some towels and blankets upstairs for you. Stay as long as you need to.”

Dean was visibly relieved by your warm reception, but he still watched you walk away, searching your expression for signs that you were saying one thing and feeling another.

Rhi noticed the way his gaze lingered. The way he seemed to be looking for something beneath the words. There was no resentment in the observation. She simply filed it away the way hunters do.

After Sam got Willa settled again, he found you decompressing in bed. Hovering somewhere between sleep and relaxation. After grabbing you a glass of water and a couple migraine tablets, he sat beside you on the edge of the mattress.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just a migraine, Sam. I’ll live.”

He rested a hand on your leg and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You finally cracked an eye open.

“What? Dean’s friend?”

He chuckled at your dismissive tone.

“You’re fine with her staying here?”

Frustrated, you pushed yourself upright and immediately winced when the pressure behind your eyes intensified.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checkin’.” Sam shrugged awkwardly.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before heading back downstairs to join his brother. Eager to hear about life on the road. Now more determined than ever to find Dean a way out of Crowley’s debt.

Sam couldn’t help but notice the chemistry between Dean and Rhi. And the way they both tried to ignore it. How they stared at each other when they talked before quickly looking away whenever the other noticed. 

She really was a female version of Dean. Less false bravado than him, but she still fought to maintain a hardened image of herself, even when cracks appeared and revealed her soft underbelly.

Guilt twisted in his gut when they described Rhi’s injury. The same way it did for Dean. Hunting was dangerous enough without the added risk of bringing live monsters back to Crowley.

“This has gotta stop, Dean. I never should have let you take this debt.”

He expected the usual cocky, dismissive retort.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in disbelief.

“Now who’s the nerd?” he huffed under his breath.

Rhi looked equally surprised, seeing as Dean had attempted to assign her to research duty.

“Alright, alright.” Dean gestured dismissively. “It’s hard to find something to hold over the King of Hell. But—”

Dean paused and pulled out a weathered lore book that Sam recognized immediately. He tried not to let himself fantasize about long nights poring over ancient texts and a glowing computer screen.

“—if we could find the bones of his vessel?”

Sam’s interest was piqued when he realized where Dean was heading. He was thoroughly impressed. Burning the bones of a demon’s vessel killed the demon within.

“Isn’t he, like, four hundred years old though? And Scottish? How the hell are we gonna find his bones?”

“Without going to Scotland?” Rhi asked, pressing her knee against the edge of the table. “I have no idea.”

Her eyes flicked between the brothers as they arrived at the same conclusion through a silent exchange.

“Maybe Cas?”

“Worth a shot.”

Dean shrugged and agreed to try summoning the angel who had been particularly difficult to reach lately. As usual, it would be a waiting game.

After a tense standoff, Dean convinced Rhi to take his bed while he slept on the couch. It had been years since she’d slept on anything better than a stiff motel mattress or a pull-out couch. Most nights she slept in the back of the Bronco at a state park or national forest. To her, it was more comfortable than a stuffy motel room and reminded her of camping with her parents when she was a kid.

The soft mattress and fresh-smelling comforter were a welcome change.

The first day was unnaturally quiet despite the addition of two more people to the house. Willa was cautious of the stranger at first, but she was also the first to break the ice. Once she let her guard down enough to smile and laugh around Rhi, life resumed as normal.

Rhi was impressed by how a gun-wielding, battle-worn man like Dean could soften enough to carry a toddler without breaking her. The same booming voice that could break up a bar fight could read the same board book twenty times in a row without complaint.

She did her best to stay out of the way and quietly observe the household dynamic.

You and Sam were clearly in love and shared parenting responsibilities equally. There was never any question about Willa’s parentage—she was a spitting image of her father with her hazel eyes and messy brown locks. But some of her mannerisms and expressions were a curious blend of yours and Dean’s.

Dean had given a vague explanation of the last two years. She knew Sam had essentially been dead for a year and then simply… come back. It would have been miraculous if he wasn’t a Winchester.

He never mentioned the way your relationship had changed after his loss, but it was obvious that it had.

It was obvious in the same way a smoking candle revealed that it had once burned brightly. Love had existed there once. It had burned hot and fierce. Now all that remained was a pleasant lingering scent—a reminder of a different time.

It showed in the way Dean dished up your plate at dinner while you got Willa settled. Or how he always brewed enough coffee so there would be a fresh cup waiting when you woke up.

His touch didn’t linger. Your breath didn’t hitch. But your lives were still uniquely intertwined. In the way only surviving tragedy together can be. 

A few days later, you offered to help Rhi change her bandage while Dean was running errands with Sam.

“It’s really no problem. I’ve patched those idiots up more times than I can count.”

You asked about her life. Trying not to be too invasive, even though she was standing shirtless in your bathroom save for a sports bra.

It had been so long since you’d talked to another woman that you found yourself opening up without even trying. For once, you didn't have to lie about how you met Sam. Or what you did after high school instead of going to college and chasing a dream job.

It was easy to see why Dean liked her so much, even if she was nothing like the women he usually went for. She was more than tolerable—you actually liked her. Even if you were slightly intimidated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”

The words left your lips before you could catch them. You silently kicked yourself, hoping you hadn’t accidentally ruined something good for him.

Sensing your anxiety, Rhi gently nudged your shoulder.

“Girl. Chill.”

You let out a nervous sigh.

“Just try not to hurt him too badly.” You quipped, though there was a thread of sincerity beneath it. “He’s more sensitive than he looks.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“The man cried watching a Disney movie. He should come with a handle with care sticker.”

“What movie?” Her voice was tight while she stifled a laugh.

You pressed your lips together, trying and failing to suppress your own laughter.

“The Brave Little Toaster.”

For a moment she just stared at you. Then both of you dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. 

At that moment, you weren’t a mom or a soon-to-be wife. You weren’t a former hunter. Or a survivor of tragedy. You were a woman laughing hysterically in a bathroom with another woman. Gossiping about a silly man. It was a tale as old as time.

You hadn’t heard the brothers when they came home. They just stood at the base of the stairs listening to the chorus of wheezing laughs. The thought passed between them silently that they hadn’t heard you laugh like that in years. 

“Guess I’m not as funny as I thought I was.” Sam shrugged at the idea. 

“Trust me, Sammy. Out of the two of us, I’m the funny one.” 

Eventually, Castiel did appear. Of course, it was at an inconvenient time and nearly gave everyone a heart attack. He agreed that the bones of Crowley’s vessel would make excellent leverage. If they could find them, Crowley would have little choice but to release Dean from any debt he believed Sam owed him.

Dean could finally move on and do whatever he wanted with his life. He didn’t want to leave hunting completely. It was too deeply ingrained in the fibers of his being. But he wanted the ability to choose it.

More than freedom, though, he wanted somewhere to belong. More importantly, he wanted someone to belong to. Whether or not that someone was Rhi, he wasn’t sure yet. But you had awakened something in him. A part of himself he’d buried beneath duty, guilt, and self-sacrifice.

You had shown him that he was worthy of belonging and being loved.

The rest happened surprisingly fast.

Once Castiel located the remains of Crowley’s vessel, you agreed to let Sam join his brother to handle the negotiations. The only condition was that Rhi went along to supervise.

Crowley complained loudly, threatened everyone equally, and eventually decided the arrangement was no longer worth the trouble.

Unlike that night more than a year and a half ago, Sam came home.

You both knew this would be the last time that you’d have to wonder. 

You were on him the second he set foot on the porch, nearly knocking him off his feet. Laughing, he caught you around the waist and helped you wrap your legs around him.

You buried your face in his shoulder while he held you effortlessly against his chest. Even after he set you down, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

“Why’re you crying?”

Sam tried pulling back when he felt your shoulders shaking.

“No.” You shook your head against him, laugh-sobbing into his shirt.

His hands rubbed slowly up and down your back.

“Baby… why?”

“I don’t know!” you cried through a nervous laugh. “I don’t know.”

Dean and Rhi were lost in their own world while they unloaded the Impala and casually debriefed in the driveway.

Neither of you noticed Castiel until he was standing a few feet away.

“Congratulations.”

Both of you jumped and you cursed under your breath. 

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam said automatically.

The angel simply stared while Sam’s smile slowly faded.

“Wait.” He frowned. “For what?”

You felt your stomach drop. Your eyes fluttered shut when the realization hit you.

Castiel was looking directly at you with the same puzzled expression he always wore when attempting to understand humans.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Is that not what humans say when they learn someone is expecting a child?”

The realization hadn’t reached Sam yet. You watched him trying to make sense of the words. Waiting for it to land. 

Finally his eyes widened and flicked towards you. He was puzzled by your lack of reaction.

“Did you know?”

You shrugged nervously, desperate to get a read on him.

“Know what?” Dean asked, stopping at the base of the porch steps.

Rhi’s eyes widened first. 

“Oh shit.” 

Dean looked between all of you.

“What am I missing here?”

The tension shattered when the weight of understanding finally crashed into Sam.

He laughed. A loud, disbelieving laugh that seemed to erupt from deep in his belly. The kind of laugh that only finds you safely on the other side of survival. 

“Really?”

His eyes were already shining.

You felt tears stinging your own again.

“I think so—”

You barely had time to squeak before he wrapped both arms around you and lifted you clean off the ground.

“Sam!”

His hands cradled your face when he finally set you down. His forehead pressed against yours. He wasn’t checking for injuries—physical or emotional. Not checking to see if you were falling apart at the seams. 

He wanted to confirm to himself that this was real. 

The smile that spread across his face was brighter than any you’d seen since before the Cage. There wasn’t a thread of panic there like the first time he held Willa.

After everything this world had thrown you two, there wasn't a shred of fear or hesitation anymore. 

Summer was boiling on the Kansas prairie. The only reprieve was in the evenings. The setting sun and gentle breeze made the heat more bearable. The rhythmic creaking of the porch swing punctuated the swelling chorus of cicadas. You and Sam were settled on the swing with Willa in his lap while you showed her the strip of ultrasound pictures. Trying to explain to her that the tiny black and white blob was her new sibling. 

Walker laid with his head between his paws on the porch. Releasing a deep sigh as he stared down the driveway bathed in golden light. Always on alert for intruders but letting his eyes gently shut while he baked in the glow.

The door creaking open behind him made him sit up. He slowly pushed himself up to watch Dean and Rhi step onto the porch, continuing a conversation they had started inside. 

“Ha, remember the last time you tried assigning me to research duty?” 

“Yeah! You put yourself in the hospital!” 

She stopped, her jaw fell slack in disbelief, while Dean continued down the steps with a cocky smirk. 

Walker’s head snapped back to the sound of Willa’s whimpering cry. She wiggled out of Sam’s lap to plod after Dean, gently nudging Walker out of her way. 

“Sorry kiddo.” He scooped her up and perched her on his bicep. “Gotta stay here.” 

He peppered her with kisses before handing her back to you. 

“We’ll be back in a few days.” 

“Be careful.” You said warmly while settling Willa on your lap. 

“Always am.” 

Dean smiled and scratched Walker between his ears. Walker watched as he joined Rhi at the bottom of the steps and they crossed the yard.

The familiar black car roared to life. He tilted his head as it disappeared down the gravel road and beyond the trees. For a moment, he continued staring after it and watched as the dust settled back onto the road.

The creak of the porch swing caught his attention. He watched as you stood up awkwardly and moved towards the front door to start dinner. 

He finally turned away from the empty driveway and walked back toward the porch swing. With a satisfied huff, he settled onto the warm boards and rested his head between his paws.

The familiar voices behind him blended into the evening chorus of cicadas. 

His family was home.

And this time, everyone who left would come back.

A/n: It's crazy that I started this fic when I was eight months pregnant with my daughter, and now I have an almost-three month old who's asleep on my shoulder right now.

It was so fun to learn and grow as a writer, and I hope you enjoyed! <3

My current taglist was made just for Cruel World. If you'd like to join my taglist for supernatural or other fandoms, fill out my form

𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@ambiguous-avery , @insensiblelimerence , @samiwinchester444 , @staley83, @little-rose-universe , @ferncloud0191

𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

I can’t believe it! The final chapter of the fic that brought us together 🥺❤️ It might be over, but there’s no way you’re getting rid of me, bestie 🤪

Couldn’t have done it without you! Rhi was your brain baby. 🫶

(Stanford!Sam Winchester x f!reader)

Summary: You really, really need to study for midterms—and, as it turns out, your boyfriend’s study method is… unconventional.

CW: All filthy smut. Sex toys (vibrator, f!rec), no PIV, soft dom Sam, praise kink, bit o’ edging

WC: 2.0K

⋆｡ ˚ still parked downstairs

summary ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ sam does the responsible thing and turns down your invitation to come upstairs, but he doesn’t go too far. pairing ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ sam winchester x reader ( f ) wordcount ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ 1457 genre ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ smut !! warnings ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ explicit sexual content, voyeurism(?), masturbation, sexual tension, sam being morally tormented but into it, public-adjacent risk

notes ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ִ❀໋ consider supporting my work .ᐟ gif cred to @/sammysodatimes

sam should have left ten minutes ago.

he knows that. he knows it with the same awful clarity he knows latin exorcisms and highway exits and the exact tone dean uses when he’s pretending not to worry. the responsible thing is simple: put the car in drive, pull away from the curb, let the night swallow the shape of your apartment window behind him, and file the whole evening under something sweet and innocent that he had enough sense not to ruin.

except his hands are still on the wheel. except your lipstick is still faintly printed near the corner of his mouth. not actually his mouth. just close enough to make him stupid.

𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 ❤️

He wasn’t concerned that midterms were next week, or that he had class in the morning. The only thing he was concerned about was making you feel safe and special.

Pairing: Stanford!Sam Winchester x college!reader

WC: 3.3K

CW: 18+ MDNI, virgin reader, loss of virginity, reader is female with female anatomy, description of college party & drinking, language, pinv, oral sex & fingering(f receiving), Sam being sweet and fluffy, size kink if you squint, mild angst

A/n: motherhood is wild y’all! I had this in a draft and figured I’d post it while baby wants to be awake all night 😅💕

You had planned on losing your virginity before you got to college, wanting to leave that awkward experience at home. There were a few times you felt ready, but the person didn’t make you feel safe, or your nerves got the best of you.

By the time you got to Stanford, you had some experience—you’d given a couple drunken handjobs, but you haven’t had much done to you aside from some awkward groping.

When you met Sam Winchester in one of your classes, you were immediately drawn to him. He was hard to miss at six foot four—not to mention he looked like an Abercrombie model. Sam wasn’t really your type, but he had such a pretty smile and charming personality that you would make an exception, if you were lucky enough to have a chance with him.

After you started studying together, you quickly caught feelings for him. Sam was shy and nervous—it was surprising for someone with such an imposing figure, but it only made you more drawn to him.

Your heart nearly exploded when he asked you to join him at a house party on campus. He tried to play it cool, but he was completely infatuated with you at that point. Being rejected would have broken him, but he would never pressure you if you didn’t want to.

You agreed, trying not to sound overly excited.

After spending hours getting ready, changing clothes ten times to find something you felt good in, you showed up at the party with your roommate. You both separated quickly—she was an extrovert and immediately found a large group of people to get lost in. You were only scanning the room for one person.

Finally, you found him in the kitchen, chatting quietly with a group of guys you recognized from class. When his eyes finally found you, they never left. He smiled nervously and moved towards you—offering you a beer and removing the cap for you.

You spent hours chatting in the kitchen. It was amazing how easily the conversation flowed, even without drinking excessively. You were a little buzzed after the second beer, but not drunk.

Eventually, you moved outside, after a loud group moved into the kitchen, making it hard to hear each other. You both settled on a bench next to a fireplace on the back patio.

Cozying up at his side, his warmth was so inviting. It was the first time you had felt this good next to somebody. His woodsy cologne and the faint, tangy smell of beer made your head feel thick in the best possible way.

Sam felt the same way, slowly leaning closer to you. He settled his arm around your waist, gently stroking your side with his thumb. It might have been the liquid courage, but your eyes locked onto his and you quickly leaned in, pressing a light kiss against his soft lips. It was shy and tentative, making him smile at the sweetness.

He pulled you into his lap, letting his large hands settle on your hips. He just studied you for a moment, drinking in the way the firelight illuminated your soft features.

“You’re so pretty,” he said quietly, making you blush.

“Not compared to you.”

He let out a breathy laugh before he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer, kissing you more intensely. He ran his tongue across your lower lip, coaxing you to open up to him and making your breath hitch. You fisted his flannel to ground yourself in him.

He was a better kisser than you, but you learned to mirror him quickly.

His free hand traced your spine, but his touch stayed respectful. By now, other guys would be groping your chest or guiding your hand to their dick.

Part of you wished he would—you were so turned on by him that you could feel wetness pooling in your panties. The friction made you gently rock your hips against his. His hands tightened on your hips to still your movements.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he breathed, smiling as you chased his lips again. “Let’s wait until you’re sober.”

You tried to stifle a groan, but he was right.

It was a few weeks since the party, and you were still mortified by your behavior. Sam could sense you hesitating around him. He felt bad about pulling back, but consent was a hill he would die on. You can’t consent when you’re intoxicated.

He had been thinking about you constantly. There was something so sweet and innocent about you. He wanted to love you and keep you close to him.

Sam invited you to his apartment to study for midterms. You were curled up on his bed taking notes while he sat at his desk, textbook open his lap.

“You okay?”

You hummed and looked up at him.

“Oh, yeah, just tired of looking at this crap,” you huffed, rubbing your face.

“Well, let’s take a break.”

He set his textbook on the desk and walked over to you, settling next to you on the bed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity.

Sam wrapped an arm around you and laid you against his chest.

Something about being close to Sam shattered your inhibitions. You hadn’t felt like this about any of the guys you had dated in high school or before coming to Stanford. They were so simple and predictable.

You grabbed his face, pulling him close to you and kissing him—still slightly awkward, but better than last time. You felt him smile against you as he laid you down and leaned over you. He pulled back briefly to scan your expression, as well as appreciate the sight of you. Your lips were pink and swollen from kissing him, perfectly matching the blush on your cheeks.

“So beautiful,” he cooed softly. You felt your stomach do backflips and your eyes started to water.

“So are you, Sam.”

He smiled and kissed you again, deeper this time, sliding his tongue against yours. You arched into him as he ran his hands down your side, grazing exposed skin at your waist. Sam felt his blood rushing south as he lost himself in your pretty noises.

His palm moved under your shirt, sliding against the soft skin on your belly. The contact felt amazing and overwhelming, like electricity. No one had ever made you feel loved like this.

“Sam—“

You still hadn’t told him you were a virgin. What if he didn't want you anymore? Clearly he was more experienced than you. Maybe you didn't have to tell him—maybe he wouldn’t notice.

You pushed the thoughts out of your mind, thinking maybe you wouldn’t get that far.

Sam trailed his mouth down your body, pulling your shirt up slightly and kissing your exposed skin. Your back arched even more into him and you pulled your shirt off to give him better access to you. The sight of you made his pupils dilate. The soft curve of your breasts above the lace fringe of your bra made his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

You felt nervous under his gaze, but you knew you were safe. Before he leaned down again, he pulled his shirt off, tossing it near yours on the floor. You could have looked at him all day—his body was perfect. He had a few smaller scars that you were curious about, but you were amazed at how perfectly toned he was. Your eyes followed the thin line of hair that started at his naval and trailed below his waistband.

“You’re staring,” he said, breaking the trance you were in and making you blush.

“Can you blame me?” You said nervously.

He leaned over you again and kissed you before hooking his fingers into your waistband.

“This okay?”

You nodded, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

He started to slowly peel your leggings off, revealing a small spot of arousal on your panties.

Once your pants were discarded, his hand slid up the inside of your thigh and landed on your clothed core. His thumb gently rubbed you through the fabric and your head relaxed onto the mattress. You started to push yourself against his hand, chasing the sensation.

You whined quietly as your thighs trembled around his hand.

“You like that?” Sam was amazed at how much you responded to him, even though he hadn’t actually touched you yet.

The simple act of his thumb rubbing your clit through your panties while his fingers rested on your mound was enough for you. You came with a muffled cry while you shook beneath him.

As beautiful as you looked, he was still surprised. He raised his eyebrows and watched as you slowly came down. You finally propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him, suddenly mortified by his expression.

“I’m sorry…”

Sam shook his head and affectionately gripped your thigh.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he said, “I like making you feel good.”

You noticed the bulge in his sweatpants and the size made your throat tighten. The nerves started to creep back in, the same ones that had put you in this position to begin with. He looked a lot bigger than any of the guys you had seen before, not that there were many.

He noticed your gaze and blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna keep going?”

You nodded hesitantly, smiling to seem confident.

Sam waited for you to answer him before continuing.

“Y-yeah, I want to,” you said quietly.

“We don’t have to, honey, I won’t be mad.”

You rolled your eyes playfully before repeating yourself.

He stood up from the bed, reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom. When he pulled his sweatpants down, you almost had a heart attack at the sight of him. He was long and thick, the tip of his cock was red and swollen, leaking a small bead of precome.

Sam had gotten this reaction before, but he was always gentle—making sure to get them ready before slowly pushing inside.

He kneeled between your thighs and you did your best not to let them shake. His fingers gripped your panties and you lifted your hips to help him pull them off.

His fingers dragged through your slit, coating them in your arousal, making you shudder. Your nerves were on overdrive, but you felt ready.

You trusted Sam, but now you were worried that he might not trust you if you didn’t tell him the truth.

Before you could work up the courage to tell him this was your first time, he slid one of his long fingers inside you. Your jaw went slack and you clenched around him. You weren’t ready for that kind of intrusion—the feeling was so foreign and uncomfortable. You emitted a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, making Sam stop immediately.

He was amazed at how tight you were—his finger almost filled you completely—and your reaction raised alarm bells.

“You’re so tight,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Does that feel okay?”

You tried to adjust to the feeling of his thick finger inside of you, but now you were so uncomfortable and nervous that you were falling apart. Turning your head to the side, facing the wall, your chest started shuddering and you felt hot tears flood your cheeks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Hey, look at me—“

He slowly withdrew from you and moved to your side, trying to gauge your emotion.

“Have you…done this before?” His voice was soft and filled with genuine emotion.

“No,” you quietly squeaked, still not able to face him.

His natural instinct to love and protect kicked in and he quickly grabbed a blanket to cover you in. He wrapped himself around you and pulled you close.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

You took some deep, grounding breaths to try and steady yourself.

“I was embarresed— thought maybe you wouldn’t notice and I could just…get it over with.”

Sam’s heart clenched. This was supposed to be a special experience and he felt that he had nearly robbed you of that.

You were worried that you had ruined the moment— one that you were sure now that you wanted to share with Sam.

“I trust you…and I wanted it to be with you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He propped himself up on his elbow and turned your chin to face him.

“You could have just asked me, that way I would have helped you feel ready.”

You rolled toward him and faced him.

“I still want that.”

His gaze softened even more.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby,” he murmurs before kissing you again.

He returned to the space between your thighs and lowers himself to your heat. He presses a soft kiss to your clit before looking up at you.

“Anyone ever done this before?”

You shook your head nervously.

“You’re gonna love it—let me know if you don’t, though.”

Sam draped your leg over his shoulder and rested his big hand on your thigh. He started planting soft kisses from your inner thigh toward your core. He wasn’t trying to tease you—he was just trying to get you used to the sensation.

When he finally started to drag his tongue against your folds, you whimpered and your legs trembled around his head. You tasted so sweet and tangy and it took everything in his will power not to selfishly swallow your tight cunt.

“That feels s’good Sam,” you whined quietly.

He had been holding back until that point.

Sam started quickly tonguing your entrance while his nose nudged your clit. You fisted the sheets and your hips rocked gently. Your eyes were watering but you weren’t sad, or scared—you’d never felt that good before in your life. No one had ever made you feel that special.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt him slide a finger inside of you, but it didn’t hurt like it did before. The feeling was still slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t bury himself to the knuckle—he stopped when he felt you tense up, trying to work you open from there.

It didn’t take long for him to feel your walls start to relax as you got even wetter for him. He wasn’t in a hurry, though. He wasn’t concerned that midterms were next week, or that he had class in the morning. The only thing he was concerned about was making you feel safe and special.

Eventually he was able to add a second finger and the pressure was explosive, but not painful.

He felt your soft walls start to flutter so he gently crooked his long fingers against your g-spot, making your vision go white and your brows to knit together.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbled against you while he watched you come undone again.

Once Sam felt your muscles relax and your breathing still, he withdrew his fingers with a wet pop that made your cheeks blush.

He kneeled between your legs, gently stroking himself. You swallowed hard, trying not to focus on how nervous you still were to take him.

“You sure you want me?” His voice was deep and warm, but it was sincere.

You nodded quickly, shifting your hips and planting your feet on either side of him. He smiled gazing down at you while he rolls the condom on, lining himself up with your entrance.

He opened your legs up wider for him to settle there and dragged the head of his cock through your wet folds. Just the heavy tip against you made you nervous—there was no way he was going to fit.

It was like he could read your mind.

“Just relax—it might hurt for a minute, but I promise it’ll feel good.”

Your eyes screwed shut and your breath hitched when Sam pressed into you. He grabbed your hand that was digging into the sheet, watching your knuckles turning white.

“It’s okay, Y/N, just breathe,” he mumbled against your wrist before pressing a kiss there. You felt your muscles loosen in your back and thighs as you relaxed back into the bed. Sam laid your wrist on your belly and lowered his thumb to your bundle of nerves and gently rubbed like he did the first time.

He pushed further into you. You could almost feel him in your stomach. It was hard for him not to come with the way you were squeezing him. He just kept his eyes on you, watching you slowly relax around him as he circled your clit. He only sank halfway into you before you pressed your hand against his chest.

“It hurts,” you said quietly.

He nodded before leaning down and kissing you, trying to calm you down.

You felt him pull out, just leaving the tip inside, before slowly sinking into you, halfway again. This time it felt different—you felt butterflies in your stomach as your gummy walls stretched around him.

Sam noticed the little smile on your face and started rubbing your clit faster. He pulled out again, thrusting a little deeper this time. After a few more thrusts, he was fully seated inside you.

Once you felt his hips flush with yours, you pushed yourself up on your elbows and looked down to where you were connected. You were amazed at how good it felt despite being slightly horrified that he fit inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” Sam said quietly, kissing you softly again and laying you back on the bed. He caged you between his arms and slowly started to fuck into you. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you struggled to breathe as he nearly forced the air out of your lungs.

Sam kept his pace slow with one of his hands braced on your hip. You felt another orgasm building in your core and he felt it, too. His eyes fell to your low belly and he could see a small bulge rising from where he was filling you. He laid his hand there and the feeling of your belly bulging sent him over the edge. His hips stuttered and he came with a stifled groan.

You watched him while he stilled his hips—you assumed he was done, and you had already come twice. He didn’t need to keep going, so you just relaxed and waited for him to pull out while you felt your building orgasm fizzle out.

After a moment, he started rutting into you again, this time slightly harder but keeping his pace slow. He was ramming against your cervix, making your eyes roll back into your head. It was almost too much for your first time, but the feeling from being so full was mind blowing.

You were mumbling dumbly, the only thing Sam could make out was his own name. Seeing you take him so well was beautiful. He hiked your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to your g-spot.

“Fuck—Sam! Oh my god!”

He grinned watching you fall apart again. The feeling of you pulsing around him, almost sucking him in more, made him come again. He stayed buried inside you—he never wanted to pull out. You were almost perfectly moulded around him like you were built for him.

He put your leg down and started gently massaging your hips with his thumbs.

Your body was sore, but in an oddly good way.

“You okay?” Sam was worried that maybe he went too far, or he was too rough.

You smiled and nodded.

“Did I do it right?” You laughed nervously, but you were serious.

“You were perfect,” he said,” besides, it was my job to make you feel good.”

Sam finally pulled out slowly making you wince. You tried sitting up but your arms were like jelly.

“Just…stay still, honey.”

He got you cleaned up and gave you a pair of his sweatpants (that were way too long) before tucking himself around you in bed.

“We should probably finish studying, Sam,” you said with your face pressed against his bicep.

His grip around your waist tightened and he pulled you closer to him.

“Yeah—not tonight. This is about you.”

thanks for the plug, babe 🫶

jared padalecki and jensen ackles boston con 2026 - main panel

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Pornstar!Dean ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Pornstar!Dean ˙✧˖°📷 ༘⋆｡˚

Dean's been at it for over an hour, head between your thighs, tongue inside your cunt.

You've cum more times than you can count- they've got it at every angle now, every sound you can imagine, moaning, gasping, begging. It's almost getting ridiculous at this point- you know they won't use all the footage.

But you're also not gonna stop him. You're not sure you've ever felt like this- it's overwhelming in the best way possible, your whole body feels like syrup, you're soaking over him, over the sheets. You'd be sobbing by now if you weren't so painfully aware of the camera only inches from your face.

He pushes his fingers into you again, deep and hard, curling in a way that makes your head spin.

Your hips lift off the mattress, he grabs hold of you quick, pushing you back down hard, "Stay still-"