July 2024 update: I’m in the process of initiating a mass edit and/or re-write of the works on this masterlist in order of publishing. Completion date TBD :)
Welcome to the Juice Box (est. 2015)!
Here, you’ll be able to find all stories spanning from about 2015-2019.
All works are written and edited by me.
Drop requests/feedback/cute little messages HERE
Sam Winchester
Home
The Awkward Phase
Defiance (all parts)
Silent
Dangerous Woman
As You’re Told (all parts)
Miss Me?
Green-Eyed Monster
Revival
Closure
Party On
STD-lemma
Passing Through (all parts)
Dean Winchester
Flannel After a fun night, you wake up in bed with Dean Winchester. Is this the start of something? Or the end of it?
Mistakes Dean made a mistake, and you're not sure you can forgive him.
Silly Little Love Songs
Wonder
Theory of an Old Man
Never
Paranoia
Lock it up
Stitches
Bad Medicine
Castiel
The Beauty of It All
Not Useless
Laundry Day
Down By The River
Crowley
First Impressions
Second Chances (part 2)
Third Time’s the Charm (part 3)
John Winchester
Heaven
Lucifer
The Guy at the Bar
Jared Padalecki
Day Off
Shiver
Jensen Ackles
The Reveal You’ve been on the show as a regular for a year now and you get to attend the panel for Supernatural at the San Diego Comic Con.
P.A. Life
Misc./Platonic
May the Force Be With You (Winchesters, Charlie, Reader)
This Means War (Winchesters, Reader)
Antics on Set (Jared, Jensen, Reader)
Through the Glass (Winchesters, Reader)
Blood and Motor Oil (Winchesters, Bobby, Reader) - all parts
The Three Scrooges (Winchesters, Reader)
Irrational (Winchesters, sister!Reader)
A Hunter’s Thanksgiving (Winchesters, Cas, Reader)
Grounded (Winchesters + sister!reader)
Raise a Little Hell (Dad!Dean, daughter!reader)
Drabbles
Kiss Me (Sam x reader)
Alone (Dean x reader)
Short (Sam x reader)
Engaged (Sam x reader)
Dinner (Crowley x reader)
Assistance (Dean x reader)
Shower (Crowley x reader)
Panties (Dean x reader)
Shot (Dean x reader)
Busy (Cas x reader)
Pie (Dean x reader)
Misunderstanding (Sam x reader)
Summary You might be a big, bad demon hunter, but bugs freak you out. Good thing your hero Dean is there to save you.
CWs Boyfriend Dean. A bug. Carnal payments implied.
Rated Teen. 554 words.
Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist
“It’s just so, ugh,” you say, safely hiding away from the danger by kneeling on the double bed, while Dean is walking around the room, arms raised, a glass in one hand and a travel brochure that was in the room when you checked in in the other.
“I guess I just don’t really get it,” he says, as he’s slowly sneaking towards the corner of the room. “I’ve seen you behead things. I don’t really get how a bug can freak you out like this if you’ve beheaded things.” You pull your shoulder up.
“None of the things I’ve beheaded had six legs,” you explain, watching Dean intently.
“If you put it like that,” Dean says, but doesn’t continue, because he’s slowly bringing the glass closer to the black spot on the wall.
The black spot doesn’t just have six legs, though, it also has wings, and when it notices Dean, despite all his hunter prowess, it buzzes off, landing in the opposite corner. You shake yourself. Dean catches sight of the bug and moves to that corner instead, still comically slow.
“Come here, you little shit,” he says under his breath.
“Okay,” you say, voice a little reproachful. “There’s no need to insult him.” Dean turns around to you, stopping his approach.
“But you hate bugs,” he says, nodding towards the intruder on the wall.
“Well, duh,” you reply, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t live peacefully side by side with them.”
“Unless they come into your room?” Dean asks, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s his own fault,” you say, “he should have knocked.” Dean chuckles and turns back to the work at hand.
He approaches, smooth and silent like a tiger, and then he raises the glass and suddenly the bug’s under it. You throw your arms in the air and whoop. Dean grins proudly, then carefully, so as not to hurt the little guy, shuffles the brochure under the glass.
Soon, he’s able to lift it and he strides towards the door, but you’re quicker than him, reach it first and open it for him so he doesn’t have to take his hands off the prisoner. You quickly jump back, deeper into the room again, so you’re not anywhere near it when the thing is released.
Dean’s back a second later, putting the glass and the brochure on the table.
“He’s free,” he says, then walks towards you. “Free to splatter against a windshield somewhere.” You slap Dean’s shoulder playfully when he reaches you, but then you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
“You are my hero,” you say, and Dean gives you his most charming smile.
“A lot of people say that,” he says. “It’s the jawline.” You grin, pull him a little closer.
“However can I repay you for your heroic services?” you say, pressing the tip of your nose against Dean’s cheek. He doesn’t need to think for long.
“Carnal payments, and lots of them,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. “But I also take Visa.” You chuckle, and then Dean is kissing you. When you pull away from him, you grin.
“The bug stole my Visa,” you say and Dean clicks his tongue.
“That’s alright,” he says and leads you backwards toward the bed you were hiding on earlier.
pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader, platonic dean winchester x fem!reader
summary: when you sound hesitant to see your boyfriend over the phone, alarm bells start to go off in his mind. it's not exactly what he's thinking though..
tags/warnings: fluffy fluff, silly shenanigans, tinge of angst, language, sam vs his fear of clowns, dean being a menace lol, civilian!reader, established relationship
word count: 1.3k 🎈
⭑.ᐟ notes: purposely excluding clown images in case anyone can relate to sammy 😅 also sorry for the vague summary I could not figure out to to sum this up 🫶🏽 :')
sam masterlist ✎ᝰ. main masterlist
Dean was sure his brother was about two minutes away from jumping out of the car, his leg bouncing incessantly for the past few miles.
“Dude, I’m sure she’s fine.”
The drive to your place feels agonizing, every minute taunting his anxious brain. I’ll see you tomorrow. Your words echo in his mind, only serving to make him even more restless. Granted you had no idea they had finished up the hunt early and were actually on the way towards your town, but regardless he noted your tone, and something seemed off.
“She sounded nervous, hesitant. But also relieved? It’s not like her.” He starts. “And she never doesn’t want to see me...especially if I’ve been gone for more than two weeks.”
Dean couldn’t argue with that kicked puppy look, so he didn’t. He simply kept driving, hoping just as much as Sam that you were alright.
What felt like hours was only twenty minutes, Sam impatiently getting out of the impala as soon as they're parked in front of your house.
It was a modest little place, nestled in the corner of a quiet neighborhood. Somewhere he's become well acquainted with over the past three years, ever since you dragged him in from your porch half conscious and bleeding — a nearby solo hunt gone wrong.
Since then you’ve become a solace. A warm and welcoming place to stay after weeks of running around different cities, which is why it worries them that you’re being evasive. It’s unlike you, and given everything they face in this line of work, better safe to check than sorry.
He barrels up the small steps, using the key you gave him to unlock the door. Inside he hears the sounds of a scramble, followed by heavy thuds making their way further down your home. It has Dean drawing his gun and Sam opening the door even more urgently, but when they get it open all they hear is a door slam down the hall.
He calls out your name, voice dripping with concern. They head inside, stopping in front of your bedroom and attempting to open it, only to discover it's locked. You respond from behind the door. “Sam?”
“And Dean.” He chimes in. “What’s going on sweetheart? Sammy here’s about to have heart palpitations.”
“I thought we were meeting up tomorrow?” You still sounded nervous, which in return doubled their worry.
“What’s wrong?” Sam insists.
“Nothing!” Your tone high pitched and anxious, unfortunately you aren’t a great liar.
Sam jiggled the doorknob more aggressively and a muffled yelp sounds out. “You’re gonna break the door!”
“He won’t, but I will in about two seconds unless you open it and we can see you’re alright.” Dean states. A defeated sigh is heard. The door clicks as you unlock it, and there’s a moment of hesitation before you open it.
Sam’s eyes widen, taking in a deep breath, letting out a quiet “Oh.” Meanwhile Dean bursts out in laughter, putting his gun away.
You're wearing a colorful clown costume, makeup and all.
You look down, eyes landing on their feet. "Hey you didn't leave your shoes at the door!"
"Neither did you!" He replies nervously, having a hard time looking in your direction. Dean looks down at your massive red clown shoes and cackles even louder.
You couldn't help but laugh lightly at the way he turns away, even Sam cracking a smile. He gains the courage to look at you again, catching your sheepish expression. "I....can't get them off." You confess, your voice small.
Dean's practically wheezing at the irony, waving his hand in front of him. Sam pales beside him. "You're kidding."
"I've been trying for an hour now, with both of them. My ankles hurt and my hands are sore, not to mention I damn near busted my ass running to the room." You explain, your boyfriend softening despite his lingering fear.
It's how you end up in the living room, with Sam sitting on the couch behind you, one arm wrapped around your middle as the other holds your leg steady. Dean has a hand gently wrapped around your ankle, carefully wiggling you out of the shoe.
You hardly focus on the ache you feel as he does, focused on your boyfriends warm embrace. The solid feel of his chest against your back, arms practically enveloping you and his soft breath near your ear. He can't really bring himself to look directly at you just yet, and you feel a twinge of guilt.
When the second shoe finally gets popped off ten minutes later, you breathe a sigh of relief and let yourself slump against him. "Thank you guys, I'm sorry." Sam presses a gentle kiss on your shoulder. "Nothing to be sorry for honey."
Dean straightens up, taking a moment to stretch before he speaks. "Halloween isn't for a few more days, you know that right?"
You can't help but laugh, scoffing slightly with no real heat. "Yeah my friend's kid is obsessed with clowns, she hired one for his birthday party but they cancelled last minute."
"And you just happen to have a clown costume?" Sam teases, his voice next to your ear. Your soft laughter continues. "No, I just had to show up. She bought the costume and did my makeup." You explain.
Eventually you all begin to settle down, Dean making his way to the guest room at the end of the opposite hall while Sam follows you to your bedroom — though at this point it's basically both of yours. You begin to take your jumpsuit off, a ball of primary colors getting tossed into the hamper.
Letting out an exhausted sigh, you walk over to where Sam is standing over his open duffel bag, wrapping your warms around him from behind. "Give me a few minutes to wipe this makeup off, then join me in the shower?" You ask, and he hums in agreement. "Of course."
You can tell he's still sulking slightly, upset with himself for how he's reacting. You press a kiss to his back, "Sam you know there's nothing wrong with your reaction, right?"
He lets out an exasperated sound. "You're my girlfriend, what if there was an emergency and you happened to be dressed like this?"
"It's a phobia honey, and I'm sure your adrenaline would help you out if ever there was a strange and dangerous situation where I happen to be in a clown costume."
He sighs again, and you press one last kiss to the same spot before making your way to the connected bathroom and wiping your face clean, antsy to properly kiss your boyfriend hello.
It's almost midnight by the time you're all fully settled, having showered and deciding on watching a few movies in the living room.
Dean is stretched out across your couch, while you and Sam are cuddling on your extended recliner (long enough to fit most of his legs). There are four empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and everyone's shoes on the rack next to the front door.
Except the clown ones, those you stashed away in your hallway closet.
You're half asleep against his chest, trying (and failing) to stay awake and finish the movie. "I'm glad you guys are here, even if I just so happened to be wearing your biggest fear. Sorry baby." You mumble drowsily. Sam presses a gentle kiss onto your hairline. "Well I wouldn't say that's my..." He starts, backtracking once he notices you're more asleep than you are awake. "I'm always happy to see you. I love you."
You hum contentedly. "I love you too." His hand moves in soft circles against your back, soothing you into a peaceful sleep.
You'd make them pancakes in the morning, probably some eggs and bacon too. For now you're just content, and safe. Looking forward to spending time with your favorite people, minus the clown costume.
sam masterlist ✎ᝰ. main masterlist
⭑.ᐟ end notes: pls excuse any mistakes I'm half asleep myself as I finish writing this lmaoo :') thanks for reading, and happy halloween !! <3
summary: you're on an undercover case with sam at a halloween party. the night turns intimate when the act feels too real.
word count: 881
pairing: sam winchester x reader
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
You’ve seen Sam Winchester in a lot of situations.
Covered in monster guts? Check.
Pinned under a demon? Check.
Wearing a tux? Oh, check.
But you have never seen him like this.
“Don’t say it,” Sam warns, tugging at the sleeve of his dark red velvet jacket like it personally betrayed him.
You can’t help it. “You make a very convincing Dracula.”
He glares, fangs glinting under the cheap ballroom lights. “You said we were going undercover, not entering a costume contest.”
“It’s both,” you say innocently, adjusting the lace trim on your black corset. “This party’s hosted by a coven—we blend in, find the cursed artifact, and leave before anyone notices we’re not actual witches. Simple.”
“Right,” he mutters, glancing around at the room full of people in capes, corsets, and fairy wings. “Because blending in definitely means dressing like a romance novel cover.”
You smirk, twirling a fake spell book in your hand. “Hey, if you’ve got it…”
He rolls his eyes but there’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
The party hums with chatter and music, candles flickering in floating glass globes. You’re supposed to be scanning for hex energy, but honestly, watching Sam try to pretend he’s not completely out of his element is far more entertaining.
He moves carefully through the crowd; all tall, nervous politeness, while people stop to compliment his costume.
“Nice cape,” someone says.
Sam blushes. Actually blushes. “Uh, thanks. It’s… velvet.”
You nearly choke on your drink.
When he catches your smirk from across the room, he mouths ‘don’t.’
You grin wider. ‘Too late.’
Half an hour later, you find yourselves tucked away in a side room filled with antique mirrors and cobwebs. The noise of the party fades behind the door. Sam’s EMF meter buzzes faintly.
“Strong reading,” he says quietly. “Something’s in here.”
You step closer to the mirrors, peering at your reflection: hundreds of you and Sam staring back, candlelight bending around your faces. “Which one of these looks cursed to you?”
He studies them for a long moment. “All of them.”
You laugh, soft and genuine. “That’s helpful.”
He shoots you a sideways look. “I’m serious. This whole room feels… off.”
You can feel it too. The air heavy. Electric. And suddenly you’re hyper-aware of how close you’re standing to him, his breath warm against your temple, the faint scent of cinnamon and aftershave.
“Sam?” you say, voice low.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you holding my hand?”
He glances down, like he hadn’t even realized it. His fingers are wrapped around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles. “Uh… in case something tries to pull you in?”
“Sure,” you tease. “For safety.”
The EMF spikes again. One of the mirrors ripples, distorting your reflections like water. Sam steps in front of you instinctively, raising his other hand to steady the glass.
“Back up,” he warns, eyes narrowing. “It’s reacting to—”
Before he can finish, the mirror flashes white. The room fills with a blinding shimmer, then stills again. Nothing but your reflection, wide-eyed and breathless.
You both stare at it.
“…Did it just—?”
“—take a picture of us?” you finish.
Your reflections remain frozen in the exact pose you were in: you clinging to his arm, faces close enough to kiss.
Sam swallows hard. “Huh.”
The silence stretches. Then, softly, “It’s kind of… romantic?”
You blink at him. “Did you just say that out loud?”
His eyes widen. “Oh God, did I? I didn’t… I mean, yeah, okay, maybe it’s a little—”
“Romantic?” you offer, smirking.
“Shut up,” he mutters, turning pink even under the dim light.
You laugh and step closer, the tension snapping into something light and warm. “Relax, Count Winchester. I’m not judging.”
“Count Winchester,” he repeats with a groan. “That’s never gonna die, is it?”
“Not if I can help it.”
He gives you that exasperated half-smile that says you’re impossible, and then — quieter — “You look beautiful, you know.”
You freeze. “Sam.”
He flinches slightly. “Sorry. I… that just slipped out.”
You shake your head. “Don’t apologize.”
The moment hangs between you, heavy as candle smoke. His hand brushes yours again, tentative this time, as if he’s asking permission. You answer by threading your fingers through his.
When you meet his eyes, they’re soft, nervous, hopeful.
“Maybe,” you murmur, “we let the mirror think we’re a couple. Just to keep the curse happy.”
His lips twitch. “Right. Strictly professional.”
“Exactly.”
You don’t know who moves first—him or you—but suddenly he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His voice is low when he says, “If I kiss you, that’s still for the case, right?”
“Totally.”
The kiss is tentative, almost shy, until you shift closer and feel him relax into it. His hand slides to your waist, yours curling into the fabric of his ridiculous cape. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breath hitching.
“So,” you whisper. “We should probably, uh… report this. For… evidence.”
He chuckles softly. “Sure. For the file.”
Outside, the music swells again, faint and distant. Inside the mirrored room, your reflections still hold each other. It’s a little timeless, even a little enchanted.
Something inside you makes you feel like it might be okay with leaving the spell unbroken.
Hey I have request what if Dean and Sam caught reader their sister and cas together and Sam and Dean would be so surprised and I love your work
⋆˚꩜｡ caught feather-handed,
pairing. castiel x reader ( gn ) ft. the winchester brothers
wordcount. 678 genre. fluff
warnings. sibling chaos, mild embarrassment, dean being dean, teasing, soft cas, found-family warmth
It starts innocently enough—or at least that’s what you’ll tell your brothers later.
The bunker is quiet, for once. Sam’s buried in research, Dean’s in the garage, and you’re curled up on the couch with Castiel, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The TV flickers faintly, something old and black-and-white humming in the background, but you’re not really watching it.
Cas’s arm rests against the back of the couch, fingers brushing through your hair in that slow, reverent way of his—like every touch is deliberate, sacred. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like that. Time bends a little around him.
You tilt your head back to look at him, smiling. “You know, for someone who claims not to understand human intimacy, you’re getting pretty good at it.”
He looks at you with that soft, unreadable expression—the one that makes your chest tighten. “I’ve had a very patient teacher.”
You’re just about to kiss him when the bunker door creaks open.
“Hey, Y/N—” Dean’s voice cuts through the air, followed by the sound of Sam’s boots on the stairs. “You seen Cas anywhere? We—”
He stops.
You freeze.
Castiel doesn’t. Because apparently, angel boy has no sense of self-preservation. He just calmly presses a kiss to your forehead like this is the most normal thing in the world.
The silence that follows could flatten cities.
Sam’s eyes widen first. “Oh. Oh my God.”
Dean just blinks. Then blinks again. “What the hell am I looking at right now?”
You scramble to your feet, tripping over the blanket. “It’s not—it’s not what it looks like!”
Dean gestures wildly. “Really? ‘Cause it looks a hell of a lot like you makin’ out with an angel on my couch!”
“Technically,” Cas says calmly, “we were not—”
“Cas,” Sam interrupts, holding up a hand, “buddy, I don’t think now’s the time to get technical.”
Dean’s still sputtering, pointing between the two of you like you’re a crime scene. “You and him? When did this—how—why didn’t anyone—Cas, she’s my sister!”
“I’m aware,” Castiel replies, ever the picture of composure. “I find her very… worthy of affection.”
Sam’s trying so hard not to laugh. You can see it in the way his shoulders are shaking. “Dean, breathe.”
“I am breathing!” Dean snaps. “Barely! Because my best friend is—” He waves his hands around like the words won’t come out. “You know what, no, no. I can’t even—”
You step forward, cheeks burning but defiant. “Dean, calm down. We’re adults. And you don’t get to go all protective big brother just because I like someone.”
He glares, jaw tightening. “Yeah, but it’s Cas! He’s… he’s—”
“An angel of the Lord?” Sam supplies.
Dean whirls on him. “Not helping, Sammy!”
Meanwhile, Cas stands perfectly still, eyes flicking between you and your brothers with quiet curiosity—like he’s watching a particularly loud species of wildlife. “I don’t understand your distress,” he says finally. “Y/N and I care for one another deeply. That seems… good.”
Sam covers his mouth, half-grinning. “Oh, it’s good alright.”
You glare at him. “Traitor.”
Dean mutters something that sounds suspiciously like I need whiskey, and storms toward the kitchen. Sam follows, patting your shoulder as he passes. “Honestly,” he murmurs, “I’m just impressed you managed to keep it secret this long.”
“Sam!”
He snickers and disappears after his brother.
You groan, burying your face in your hands. “They’re never gonna let this go.”
Cas tilts his head, confused. “I don’t believe they are capable of flight.”
You snort despite yourself, looking up at him. “Not literally, Cas.”
“Oh.” A pause. Then, gently: “Would you like me to smite them for you?”
That makes you laugh—loud, unrestrained, genuine. “No, please don’t smite my brothers.”
“Very well.” He leans in, pressing another kiss to your forehead, voice low. “Then I’ll simply stay here.”
You smile, tucking yourself against his chest, and for once, even with the echo of your brothers’ yelling down the hall, the world feels perfectly still.
Because yeah—Dean can complain, Sam can tease—but right now, you’ve got your angel, and that’s enough.
ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .ᐟ
