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puck-luck · 11 days

Note

okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣

other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.” warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season… pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader summary: see requests above. wc: 3089

Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.

You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.

Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.

So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.

He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.

It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.

It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.

Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.

Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled.

He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron.

“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”

“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”

Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.

You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen.

Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.

“You’re a loser,” You said.

“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied.

As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.

He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.

He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.

“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”

You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.

“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”

“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Trevor asked.

“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”

Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”

“What if I do?”

“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”

“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”

Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” You whined.

“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”

A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs.

“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”

His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.

“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”

“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss.

Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.

They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.

Except, it didn’t stop him.

Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him.

“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”

His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance.

“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.

It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you.

You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily.

He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.

“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours.

You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.

“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.

You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”

Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.

The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.

“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.

He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.

“Give me your hand.”

You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.

“Touch me. Over my pants.”

You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.

Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”

You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.

“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”

You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.

Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.

You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”

You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.

His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”

You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.

Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick.

“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”

You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.” Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use.

“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.

You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.

He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.

“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.

Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”

You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.

“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.

He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure.

You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length.

“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”

You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue.

“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”

“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”

You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”

notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.

#puck-luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄#tz11 #hockey smut

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section-chief-prentiss · 1 month

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Love Story

Summary: You and Emily both propose on the same day during your vacation.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Word Count: 1986

Ao3

You closed your eyes, letting the salty ocean air fill your lungs. One arm rested on the balcony railing outside the hotel room you shared with your girlfriend, Emily, who was fast asleep inside.

In the two years you’d been with Emily, this was the first vacation you’d taken together, and you couldn’t resist the idea of watching the sunrise at least once on this trip.

So you’d dragged yourself out of bed, still in your pajamas, and stood at the edge of your balcony, waiting for the initial whispers of sunrise to appear. Emily had never been an early riser, so you knew better than to wake her.

When you opened your eyes, you could faintly spot, where the sky kissed the ocean, hints of orange and yellow. You were so mesmerized by the sight that you didn’t hear your love walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Hey, you,” Emily said, wrapping her arms around your torso and setting her head on your shoulder. “What on Earth are you doing awake at this hour?”

You giggled. “I wanted to watch the sunrise. You can go back inside; I’ll come back to bed after.”

Emily nestled deeper against your shoulder and hummed. “I’m okay right here.”

As profilers with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, time off wasn’t easy to come by—especially for two of you at a time.

Fortunately, the team’s caseload lightened up in time for you to take a week off, right around your second anniversary, and with it being January and miserable in DC, your destination was an easy choice—Hawaii.

Emily, ever the world traveler, knew of an amazing resort on the beach in Oahu, so you left the planning in her hands.

You had your own agenda for this trip. And today was the day.

As the sun rose higher, yellows and oranges won their battle against the dark blue sky, making way for light blues and pinks.

The air was humid, and getting warmer with the sunrise, but you had never felt so content.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily murmured. You nodded in agreement.

You knew after three months of dating that Emily was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. But you only got one chance at a proposal with your dream girl, so planning proved to be more difficult than anticipated. And while you considered your BAU team your family, you knew that if you told any of them, the secret would be out within an hour. So confiding in them was, unfortunately, not an option.

As soon as the trip was booked, you knew this was your opportunity. Buying the ring was easy; you’d both known what you wanted and had openly discussed it almost the entire time you’d been together. Hiding the ring was harder—you had to move it every few days in case Emily decided to snoop.

She always had a sense for secrets and sniffing them out.

You blamed yourself for falling in love with a profiler.

“What do you want to do today?” Emily unwrapped her arms from you, and as soon as her touch was gone, you missed it. She took her place next to you, leaning against the balcony railing.

With vacations being so rare for you both, you’d decided together that you didn’t want to plan too much and overbook yourselves. Instead, you made a few dinner reservations and left it at that.

“Seems like a good day for the beach,” you said, nodding at the so-far empty beach below you. It wouldn’t be that way for long, you knew. But you weren’t in a hurry.

“Whatever you want,” Emily smiled. “But first… back to bed?”

You took your girlfriend’s hand with a smile of your own. “Whatever you want.”

***

Some time later, you and Emily were perched in lounge chairs on the beach. At first, you weren’t sure if you remembered how to relax, but laying back on a chaise in your favorite swimsuit next to your favorite person in the world—you remembered.

Your only request when Emily planned this trip was that one of your dinner reservations was on your second night. The first night you knew you’d be too tired from the travel, but you wanted to propose at the beginning of your trip so you could spend the rest of your time off celebrating.

But the more time you spent on the beach, the more you started to look at your phone, wondering how early was too early to start getting ready. You wanted to look nice but not so nice that you’d make Emily suspicious, and finding that balance wasn’t going to be a short endeavor.

You opened your mouth to ask what time your reservation was—even though you’d engrained the time in your memory—when Emily spoke up first.

“We should head back soon if we want to make our reservation,” she paused. “If that’s alright.”

“Is it that time already?” you asked, forcing nonchalance in your voice. To aid in your ruse, you glanced at your phone for the tenth time in the last half hour. “Yeah, let’s head back.”

You tossed your towel around your waist and headed back to the room in a comfortable silence.

Your hair took longer than Emily’s to style, so you mutually agreed to let you shower first—fighting the urge to ask Emily to just shower with you, but you couldn’t afford the time you would lose—and took the time to run through what you wanted to say when you proposed.

Your reservation was early enough that you hoped to walk back on the beach during sunset, and that’s when you would get on one knee and ask her to be your wife.

It would be perfect; you were confident.

***

You paused in front of the full-length mirror, appraising yourself. Your hair was curled and half-up—the beach was windy earlier, and you didn’t want to be eating your hair when you proposed. Your makeup was light, and you’d decided on a black romper. You’d packed a few sun dresses just in case, but you didn’t want to flash anyone when you got on one knee.

How did people do this? Your palms sweat just thinking about what was coming.

Across your body, you had a simple black bag, just big enough for your phone, wallet, and ring case.

As soon as you’d dressed, you’d thrown the bag over your shoulder and kept it close. The last thing you needed was Emily throwing her phone in your purse—something she often did, as she didn’t usually like to carry her own bag—and stumbling across the ring box.

But when your beautiful girlfriend stepped out of the bathroom—her raven hair curled and bangs perfectly styled, dressed in a skin-tight red dress that took your breath away—she had a similar black cross-body slung over her own shoulder.

In hindsight, that should’ve been the first clue of many. But you were too preoccupied with your own secret to pick up on hers.

“Stunning,” you breathed, leaning forward to kiss your love.

“I know you are,” her mouth smiling against your own, “but how do I look?”

You giggled, heart bursting. It took all of your willpower to not take out the ring box right then and get this whole thing over with.

But she deserved a proposal more special than one in a hotel room, so you bit your tongue.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded. “Ready when you are.”

You laced your fingers through hers and followed her out of the room and through the hotel’s doors.

“I thought we’d walk, take the scenic route, since we have some time,” Emily said. “The beach will take us right to the restaurant.”

Your heart skipped a beat. If you took the beach on the way there, would she think twice about you requesting the same on the way home?

No, you thought. What she’ll find weird is if you say no right now.

So you swallowed your panic and pressed a smile across your features. “Whatever you want, love.”

She squeezed your hand and took the lead.

“Are you having a nice time?” Emily asked. You weren’t sure if you were just projecting your feelings onto her, but did she sound… nervous?

“I could stay here forever,” you answered. “I don’t know how we can go back to winter in DC after this.”

“You’ll be ready to get back to work by the time vacation is over,” she said with a wink. “I know you too well.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you sang. “I think I could stay here forever with you and be perfectly happy.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You opened your mouth to suggest honeymooning here, but caught yourself before you gave yourself away completely.

Instead, you turned to stare out at the water. “It’s a beautiful view.”

Your walking slowed before coming to a halt, both of you admiring the crashing waves lapping not far from your feet.

“It is,” she said.

You turned to find her eyes boring into yours and flushed.

“The two years I’ve spent with you have been the happiest of my life,” Emily said with a sincerity that stilled you. “I never knew I could love somebody this much until I met you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Emily released your hand, and you contemplated reaching for your purse. Was this the moment you’d been waiting for?

“I feel the same way,” you said, fighting the lump in your throat.

“I’m not always the most eloquent with words,” she admitted, patting at a stray tear in her eye. You chuckled, thinking of the times she couldn’t place what she wanted to say and started mumbling in other languages until she figured it out. “But I need you to know that you’re my everything. My love, mi amor, mon amour, amore mio, moya lyubov…”

She trailed off, reaching into her cross-body and pulled out something she concealed in her hands. You frowned.

“I know you love it when I speak French,” she said with a mischievous grin, kneeling down before you, on two knees instead of one, due to the dress she wore. “So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, veux-tu m'épouser?”

You froze. You knew what that sentence meant—it was one you’d looked up online and practiced relentlessly in the mirror to get your pronunciation just right for your proposal, as you knew French was her favorite language.

When you didn’t answer, she translated, “Will you marry me?”

Tears poured from your eyes. When you opened your mouth to answer, a laugh bubbled up instead.

Now it was Emily’s turn to frown. “Love?”

Once you started, it was impossible to stop. You fell to your own knees in front of her, laughing and crying in equal measure. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, but you held up a hand.

“You had to beat me to the punch, didn’t you?”

“I don’t understand…” she said.

You reached into your bag, procuring your ring box, clearing the tears from your face with your free hand. The rest of your speech was moot now, but you couldn’t let the French you learned go to waste.

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, je t'aime de tout mon cœur, et pour toujours. Veux-tu m'épouser?”

Emily gaped, glancing from you and the ring in your hand to the ring in hers. In the blink of an eye, her own face was covered with tears.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Me too,” you whispered.

You exchanged rings, not even taking a moment to admire the fact that, of course, she got you the exact ring you wanted, before throwing your arms around your fiancee and pressing your lips to hers.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

“We’re not making our dinner reservation, are we?”

“God, I hope not,” she breathed before pulling you in again.

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#criminal minds #fanfiction #emily prentiss #paget brewster #pagetbrewster #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #emily prentiss x reader

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srbachchan · 4 months

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DAY 5806

Jalsa, Mumbai Jan 9/10, 2024 Tue/Wed 8:28 AM

🪔 ,

January 10 .. birthday greetings to Ef Sapnaa Sandilyaa ..

Ef Hoda from the great Egypt 🇪🇬 ..

Ef Manuela from Italy 🇮🇹 ..

Ef Palkan Nagori Dave ..

and Ef Rajesh Lodha from Chennai ..

love to all and wishes from the Ef Family .. ❤️🙏🏻🚩

Once right .. always right ?

Never .. pits and falls are the basics of a developed well lived life ..

AND .. motivational learning from an Ef :

'a man is alive by love .. and he is only living by (bread)' ..

and to understand it better ..

'if one lives for love alone, then his Soul and heart , mind and body .. they shall be alive .. but if man seeks only (bread) for a living .. then everything in him will die and his daily running after bread, will only keep his body alive from death .. when in truth he is a walking corpse .. soulless .. heartless'

yes at times it is difficult to give a proverb complete understanding when it has been written in another language .. this one above is such

So live to work by seeking bread .. to survive physically .. but philosophically it is the 'living' that brings the completeness of the Soul and the Heart ..

Or so I would interpret ..

Its getting a little too heavy for the Blog so shall refrain and end .. there is other work to attend to and I shall ..

Love and more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

Push the lighted lamp on to the boat of its travel .. into the sea of life .. row your endeavour till you find your ship of destination ..

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winchester-girl67 · 4 months

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Wild Hearts (Part 6) - Two Years After Dean Left

Summary: During her gap year, Y/N goes to visit Dean for his birthday in Sioux Falls while trying to figure out her next step in life.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Car broke down @spnfluffbingo

Word Count: 6,763

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 18, Dean is 22-23), reader is feeling a bit lost, angst, past injury (scars), mentions of physical abuse by a parent/violence/death/prison, language, slow burn, kissing/cuddling, talks of sex/relationship, fluff

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo. Enjoy.

_____

Two years after Dean left.

So far, your gap year wasn't turning out the way you'd hoped. You weren't anywhere closer to figuring out what to do with your life and you didn't have the means for backpacking through Europe. Flights and hostels cost money and though you saved up, it would go fast and you'd already figured out that solo travel wasn't for you.

So you bought yourself a car and it was a used piece of junk, but it was yours.

You weren't technically sure if you could categorize it as a car, though. It was more of a rusted piece of tin that would stall like a toddler having a tantrum, for no reason! It was only ever meant to get you from point A to point B, not go on cross-country road trips to see a boy who was never your boyfriend.

Yet here you were, on the side of the road on a particularly balmy day in January, waiting for a tow-truck. You'd almost made it all the way to Sioux Falls and you were so excited to surprise Dean with a blast from his past for his birthday. Then the engine overheated with a jarring clunk sound and you were forced to pull over as it stalled out again. Smoke billowing from under the hood. Stupid car. Stupid road trip. You should've flown but you wanted the time to think. Now you had too much time.

You were wrapped in your long winter coat and sat on the hood of your car. It had long since cooled and the smoke cleared but the dark paint attracted the sun and it was warm as you waited for the tow-truck. You had called the garage that you knew Dean worked at, but you got his uncle on the phone and were expecting him to show up. Instead when the truck finally arrived it wasn't an old man driving it.

"Y/N," Dean said with a look of shock as he stepped down from the truck on bowed legs.

Damn it, surprise ruined. You forced a nervous smile.

"Hey, Dean. How's it hanging?" You said, sliding down from the hood of your car to meet him halfway to his truck parked in front of you. You stood a foot away from each other and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Not quite the embrace you were hoping for after so long. "Damn it, I should've said something cooler... Surprise!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

That wasn't much of a warm welcome either.

Why was this so awkward?

"Uh- um, you know, sightseeing." You pointed to the snow covered field to the right of the quiet highway, squinting at the trees in the distance.

"Yeah because Sioux Falls is the number one tourist destination. In the middle of winter." He said, glancing in the direction you had pointed with nothing substantial to look at.

You'd argue the field still had its charm. Snowflakes sparkling in the sunlight.

Dean looked back at you and cocked his head like he knew you were hiding something. His eyes burrowing into you, set on digging out the truth without the use of words. Somehow it worked and you folded your cards.

"All right, you caught me." You rolled your eyes dramatically, "You sounded kind of sad on the phone when you said you'd be spending your birthday alone and I... didn't want you to."

You left a little late but drove nonstop for as long as you could and made it there with half a day to spare. Tomorrow was Dean's twenty-third birthday!

"Sammy's only gonna be gone one night, I'll still have the morning with him before he leaves for his field trip." He said, still not believing you.

It was partially true, it was the reason you used to convince yourself to come. But the reason you risked the drive in such an unreliable car was different. And he knew it.

"He's in University, they don't call them field trips anymore." You teased but he remained stoic.

You talked on the phone and texted all the time. You should be able to read him better but video calls were glitchy at best lately with the weather and it takes time to be able to read someone's body language again after years apart.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

"Can't a girl show up for no reason but to celebrate your birthday? I thought you wanted me to visit." You remembered the postcard he'd sent asking you to on your gap year.

"I wanted you to call first. I would've paid for a flight." He said, shoving his ungloved hands into his pockets, likely to keep his fingers warm.

It was winter after all, there was a nip in the air. He didn't wear a toque but the tips of his ears were still protected by his hair which he had let get longer since you last saw him.

You sighed regretting the road trip and feeling stupid for thinking he thought about you as much as you still thought about him. Maybe he wanted you to call first so he could talk you out of making the trip. But then maybe you were over thinking this and letting your insecurities get the best of you. That has been happening a lot lately.

You shrugged and played with your mittens, "I needed to clear my head and driving halfway across the country sounded like a good idea to do that."

He sighed a visible manifestation of his breath, "What's going on? You sounded fine last time we spoke."

"Nothing, I am fine." You chewed on the inside of your cheek and blinked away watery eyes, "I just have no passion for- like, anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you are extremely passionate in everything you do." Dean said, somehow knowing this had to do with you struggling to figure out your whole future at eighteen. Sure, some kids had known what they wanted to do since grade school but for you, it felt like it was next to impossible, "You'll figure it out."

"Okay, okay, enough." You said, raising your mitten-clad hands.

You didn't want to think about it anymore. You were finally in a place to explore your feelings with Dean and although that's not why you drove out there, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't in the back of your mind.

"Where are you staying?" He asked, changing the subject.

"About that...? I fit on a couch pretty good."

Dean smiled, he knew exactly what you were getting at and he had the space since he and Sam had moved into their own apartment. "Good thing I got a couch then."

His attention shifted to your car parked on the side of the highway. His eyes scanned over the dents, scraped paint, rust and bald tires; the side mirror barely held on with duct tape and the bent antenna. The radio was staticky at best. His jaw tightened.

"Is this your car?"

"Yeah," you answered tentatively like it was an obvious answer and you knew you were in for a scolding.

"This is your car? This is the car that you decided to drive practically cross-country in?"

Here it was, "Um, yeah."

Dean walked past you to get a closer look at the car. "Y/N, this car couldn't limp to the next exit if it wanted to."

He kicked the tire and frowned back at you. No doubt seeing the extent of the worn tread. And he knew you knew better than to drive it that far. After he started his job at the Singer's Garage with his uncle he'd made sure to give you a lesson about car safety in case you took out your parents' car, let alone get your own. His attempt at teaching you to change a tire via glitchy video chat was by far the most epic of fails.

"That's kind of the problem, it doesn't want to." You quipped, giving him a cute smile to ease the tension but it didn't work.

"Who sold you this piece of junk, anyways?" He asked, looking away from you as if your smile was blinding him.

He kicked the tire again.

"I don't know... Chuck, I think." You said, trying to remember the name of the salesman who sold you the car back home.

"Chuck?" He repeated and laughed silently without humour.

"Yes, Chuck. Why do you keep repeating everything I'm saying?"

"Chuck as in Chuck Shirley's Used Car Lot outside town? Y/N, he's a cheat. He sells nothing but lemons. You should've called me, I would've told you where to go." He sighed in frustration and bit his lip, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.

"I wanted to surprise you, that was the whole point and I didn't want you to tell me not to come." You said and his green eyes immediately found yours. Your chin quivered either from the cold or what you were about to say next. You weren't sure which. "You don't really seem happy to see me."

"You think I'm not happy to see you?" He asked and his stare softened.

You bit the inside of your cheek, "Well, you are doing that weird repeating-everything-I'm-saying-as-a-question thing again."

"What if you broke down?"

"Uh, I did break down." You pointed to the hunk of tin on four wheels just sitting there.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, what if you had broken down somewhere I couldn't get to you. Y/N, you could've gotten yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere. Or worse."

"I'm pretty sure two hours outside of Sioux Falls is the middle of nowhere."

"You know what I mean. There are strange people out there."

"I know, I'm looking at one." You teased and pushed his shoulder playfully but he didn't react, "Why are you so worried? Dean, I'm fine, I'm standing right here. You could even do something as crazy as -Oh, I dunno, hug me?"

He cocked his head at you and pointed, "You don't get to own the monopoly on worrying."

He was right, you were always worrying about him especially when you lived in the same town. And the current role reversal was throwing you for a loop. Just another thing you couldn't control.

You pushed back your hair and sighed, "Fine, but can we fast forward to the Dean that's actually glad to see me? I'm starting to think this was a really bad idea."

"In that car, it was a really bad idea." He agreed and you stared at your shoes, holding yourself. "But I am so fucking glad to see you."

He grabbed your shoulders and bent down so his forehead rested against yours. A single tear got away from you as your anxiety about seeing Dean again and everything in between boiled over and you wiped it away with your mitten.

"Really?" You sniffled but it could've been from the cold.

"Yeah, really." He pulled you in for a hug and you rested your cheek against his warm chest. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your hands clutched his jacket in case he decided to pull away before you were willing to let go. "Of course ‘really’, Y/N."

You hummed, "Hm, I'm starting to think this was a good idea again."

You held onto him until your fingers got stiff from the grip you had on him and pulled away. Dean looked down at you and brushed your hair behind your ear. A cold gust of wind turning the shell of it as red as your nose and cheeks. You had probably sat out in the elements a little too long.

"There's no way you're driving that home, by the way. I'm still mad but I can't believe you're actually here. It's like you haven't changed at all." A smile replaced his frown and he looked you over as if he expected you to look a hell of a lot different or maybe older with the time and distance between you.

"It's been two years, a lot has changed, I'm eighteen now!" Your hands went to your hips as you glared up at him.

The truth was that it had only been two years and your reflection in the mirror hadn't changed a lick. You hoped it would, that you'd wake up eighteen and an adult and that mirror would reflect that, but it didn't and you weren't about to admit that even you didn't feel your age. You technically haven't felt any older since you got your license. Birthdays after that kind of lacked lustre.

Maybe that was what it was like getting older though. First you stop feeling like your birthday is a big deal, stop feeling any older despite the number, then the milestones get further and farther between and eventually you have to think about how old you are. Maybe that’s how it was for Dean and maybe that’s why he seemed so far away.

"You're so cute." Dean said and roughed up your hair.

You hated the way it made you feel like a kid counting to ten on your fingers and shoved his hand away. Sure your life was a little unorganized at the moment which probably led to this epiphany about birthdays that you were having but that didn't mean you were a child. He didn't treat you like a child when he met you at sixteen and now you were legally an adult. So what was his problem?

"And you're still strange." You squinted.

"And wonderful, though, right?" He cocked an eyebrow and smirked, remembering the compliment you gave him the first night you met. 'You're strange and kinda wonderful.'

Dean didn't tinker with your car's engine much before he gave up and hooked it up to the tow truck. You didn't think that had any indication on how good of a mechanic he was and more about the state of the engine itself. Every time he tried the key the lights would come on and the starter would spark but the engine kept quiet. You didn't know much about cars other than the basics he'd talked about since you ran out of other stuff to talk about over the phone. But still practical and theory were two very different fields and you couldn't tell the starter from the alternator, though Dean said neither of those seemed to be the problem.

On the drive back to Singer's Garage Dean let you pick the music and you tuned into a country station that he seemed to hate from the first note. So after a song you switched it over to classic rock which you knew was his favourite. The next couple hours were spent listening to him hum along, out of tune, to songs old enough that your father listened to them when he was a teenager. They weren't bad though and you loved the way Dean seemed happier.

You hoped it was real and not some facade he was putting on for your sake. Somehow, you didn't think it was.

Maybe he didn't need you to save him from his birthday alone after all, but he seemed to want you there. He took side glances at you the whole drive back; that had to mean something.

You walked into the garage after Dean. An older man stood at the desk in the office wiping the grease from his hands on a rag. It didn’t seem to help though since the rag itself was already covered in days old worth of oil and grease. He tossed it to the side of the desk when he saw you walk in with Dean.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby, this is Y/N." Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Ah, the infamous Y/N. Me and the Mrs. have heard a lot about you." Bobby said and you blushed.

Dean talked about you when you weren’t around.

"Bobby," Dean warned, side eyeing you and Bobby held his hands up with a smirk pulling at his lips.

"You didn't tell us she was coming to town, son." He said and you saw how that word ‘son’ affected Dean.

Like he actually had a father worth getting to know, one that cared and worried and you loved that for him. Dean deserved to be surrounded by good people that treated him better than his blood had.

He had hindered his own wants since childhood almost to the point that he denied himself of anything good until now. The lighter air about him, especially in the presence of his uncle, made you hope that he'd found a balance and that his move to Sioux Falls was for more than just Sam after all.

You might've been trying to find yourself, so to speak, but maybe you weren't the only one. There was a twinge in your gut that made you feel like you were losing him, to another town, another life you weren’t a part of, and eventually another girl. Even if there wasn't one in the picture now.

You hadn’t talked about relationships and he never mentioned any interest in anyone but you knew you weren’t together either. Dean was all sorts of awesome and a little broken but you admired everything about him; how he could stay calm through uncertainty, say exactly what he thought at any given moment and give up so much for the people he loved without asking for anything in return. You’d never met anyone else like him and compared every boy that asked you out to him, before you inevitably turned them down and skipped prom altogether.

Dean would’ve given you a blast for skipping so you never told him. Instead Benny and Cas took you sand surfing and out to Donna’s for ice cream afterwards. It was sweet and nostalgic and perfect. You wound up spending most of your time with them after Dean and Sam left. The three of you bonded over your love for the boys and the void they left in your life even though you’d only known them for a fraction of the time and still kept in contact with Dean. But sometimes the phone calls weren’t enough and it was just easier to spend time with someone who understood all of that and Benny really was a teddy bear once you got to know him.

You felt safe with them and the age gap didn’t seem to register when there was no chance of attraction. You were hung up on Dean and they knew that. Besides, Benny and Cas still flirted a lot, but never with you. You thought they’d make a cute couple if they ever realized the feeling was mutual and not just casual.

"He didn't know. It was a surprise." You said with a shy smile.

"And you ran into a bit of trouble, I see." Bobby said, walking over to your car that was parked outside the open garage door.

He took a look under the hood that Dean had propped open after disconnecting it from the tow truck and made a face. The same face Dean had made when he looked.

"Nothing Dean can't fix, I'm sure." You said and Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“I could fix it but the cost would run more than the worth of that car. You said the engine overheats and stalls out regularly, not to mention that it still doesn’t want to turn over. Sorry, Y/N, but without an overhaul of the engine it’s basically a paper weight.”

“I guess, I’m flying home after all then, eh.” You sighed, staring at your two-ton paperweight.

You helped Dean around the garage for the rest of the day. Mainly working on this ridiculous orange shop truck, changing brakes and fluids. He said it was basically ready to sell and that’s how they made business during the lulls in customers. By finding salvageable vehicles and fixing them up. He also made you rotate the tires, though they looked brand new, and you were positive that was just his way of ensuring you knew how to change one; by the fourth tire you felt like a pro.

It was only a few hours before they closed up early for Dean’s birthday dinner. They were celebrating early with Bobby and Jody since Sam wouldn’t be home for dinner on his actual birthday and Bobby invited you along.

Dean took the luggage from your car and stuffed it into the trunk of his Impala. You noted the dents in the front bumper were still there and the headlight was taped up with clear plastic. Dean said he’d been scouring salvage and junkyards for parts but had yet to find any to fit Baby with. You could tell he regretted the damage he’d done to her; it wasn’t her fault, just like how their upbringing wasn’t his. You could tell he connected with her on some spiritual level that people connected with inanimate objects.

When you got to Bobby and Jody’s, a short haired woman greeted Dean with a hug and you with a smile. Until she learnt that you were Y/N and then she pulled you in for a bear hug like you were family. You wondered exactly what Dean had told them about you. However, whatever it was seemed to make a good impression.

Dinner was great and you fell into easy conversation with Sam about his courses. He’d taken the heaviest workload he could and was struggling with studying, so you said you’d send him your playlist for concentrating. You had used it a lot throughout high school and only added to it over the years. It was a mix of easy listening pieces, movie scores, and instrumental works you knew Dean would probably hate.

Dean was delighted in the way you scarfed down your slice of cherry pie. Jody apparently made it for him every year and it was by far the best you’d ever tasted. No wonder he’d bragged about it for as long as he did.

By the end of the night you were full and exhausted from your time on the road. You had only stopped at one motel along the way, and it was a good day’s ride to Sioux Falls from home. So, as much as you would’ve liked to spend the night partying it up with Dean, you were thankful that he just wanted to get back to his apartment and watch a show on Netflix with you.

Dean carried your bag up to their apartment and let you get first dibs on the shower. Sam, of course, went to bed as soon as you got back. It was late and he had that field trip the next day that he needed to be refreshed for. Dean didn’t seem to mind though, he was mostly concerned that you weren’t too tired to hangout. You lied and assured him that you weren’t since you were determined to be awake when the clock struck midnight. But you passed out on the couch as soon as he hit play.

You woke up well past midnight to Dean carrying you. You were too tired to protest and kept your eyes shut when he laid you down in his bed and tucked you in. Then he left and you fell asleep again mumbling a ‘Happy Birthday’ that he wouldn’t have heard.

In the morning you realized he had spent the night on the couch and you woke up snuggled into comforters that smelt like him. The only thing you missed was the heat of his body. It felt weird to miss something you never had.

“Hey, birthday boy.” You yawned, meeting Dean in the kitchen and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He said, patting your arms on his waist.

You heard him sizzling something on the stove. A drop of grease spit from the pan and landed on your arm, “Ow.” You released him and rubbed the spot on your arm, “What’s with you and bacon?” He chuckled and you hopped up on the counter stifling another yawn. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He left.”

“Already?”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Y/N.” He said and turned to face you. He looked equally as tired, probably from that damned couch.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were tired and it’s not like either of us have anywhere else to be today.” He shrugged and smiled, “I wanted to ask yesterday but I didn’t wanna pry. How long can you stay?”

“September,” you said hopefully and he laughed.

You technically hadn’t applied to college yet, but you were planning on taking something in the fall. You just didn’t know what and you were trying not to think about application deadlines.

You helped Dean make an early dinner since you hadn’t eaten yet. You peeled potatoes for his ‘famous bacon mashed potatoes’ and he grilled a steak on the small balcony sized barbecue outside. It took longer than a regular barbecue and the sun was setting by the time you sat down with your food in front of the TV.

You were starving and ate quickly while Dean ate at his regular pace. His affinity for adding bacon to almost every recipe including mashed potatoes doing little to curb your appetite. It was actually pretty good and you both grabbed seconds.

"This looks familiar," Dean chuckled, tugging the fabric of your hoodie between his fingers.

Your dinner plates abandoned on the coffee table to be rinsed and washed later.

"I should think so," you grinned and blushed. "It's yours -It was yours, it's mine now."

You clutched the fabric of your hoodie in your hands. It was the sweater Dean had given you the night you met. You'd forgotten to give it back that night when he dropped you off at home and kept it ever since. It was worn but it was your favourite sweater now. It provided warmth and comfort over the years and there was no way you were giving it back.

"Looks better on you anyways." Dean laid his arm along the back of the couch behind you.

"That's what I thought." You smiled at him and his other hand brushed your cheek, his fingertips grazing your jaw as he tucked some hair behind your ear.

"Did I tell you how happy I am that you're here?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

The show you were watching faded into the background and all you could hear and feel was the heartbeat in your chest thumping wildly. He held your gaze as his palm warmed your already fiery skin. You wanted him to kiss you but he didn't.

"You saved me, Y/N, I never told you that. I was just barely hanging on when I met you. Surviving everyday just for Sammy, but then you showed me the beauty in life and made me wanna fight for myself again. When I looked at you I saw a future, a glimpse of something that kept me going and maybe it was a fantasy, it felt like a dream, but now-"

You turned and kissed him, tucking your legs underneath yourself so you could push up on your knees to meet his lips with a little weight. Dean's hands clutched your waist, fingers pressing into your skin and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

It wasn't the kiss you wanted. He held back and a tear trailed down his cheek. You pulled apart your lips and he sniffled, his hands still gripping you like you would disappear.

“This can’t work.” He whispered and met your eyes, shaking his head. “You’re everything I want but this won’t end well, it can’t right now, Y/N.”

What? You pushed your brows together, "I would never hurt you, Dean."

"No, but I won't let you hurt yourself either." He pushed you away.

“You’re scared. Of this, of us. That’s it, isn’t it?” You asked, pointing between you.

He sighed and rubbed a palm down his face, “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“It’s not just about me, Dean. There’s another reason you’re holding back.”

“Cut me some slack, Y/N, it’s my birthday.” He said, playing the birthday card pretty fast like he had it in his back pocket.

But you didn't drop it.

You placed your hand on his heart and raised his to lay over your breast. Each heartbeat thumping wildly enough to feel the vibrations in your palms.

"Do you feel that? Our hearts are wild, Dean. They wither in cages waiting to be broken. Do yourself a favour. Don't cage your wild heart, set it free." You pleaded. He was the only one you ever wanted, a feeling that was mutual as much as he fought it. "I know you love me."

He kissed you then and it was like lightning coursing through your veins. All thought was lost and your bodies mended together as he crawled over you. Your back pressed into the couch and he held his weight over you as his tongue gained entry to the warmth of your mouth. The air in your lungs replaced with the air in his and his hands grabbed at yours, linking your fingers together and pushing the backs of your palms into the cushions next to your head.

You panted and hummed, breathing heavily through the nips and sucks to your lips and throat. You angled your hips up to his, wrapping your legs around him and pressing your heels into his backside but Dean didn’t close the distance to give you more friction. He just kept kissing you.

You separated your hands from his and pawed at his henley. Dean sat up, pulling you with him and letting you push his shirt up his chest. You tugged it over his head and away from his arms, tossing it to the floor next to the couch.

He leaned in to kiss you again but you stopped him with a hand to his chest. The lamp next to you was lit and it was the first time you'd seen him bare chested. You felt the raised skin beneath your fingertips as his chest rose and fell with each breath.

The scar you had only seen the tail end of that night on the beach ran from his collarbone down the left side of his chest and into the waistband of his jeans towards his hip. Dean sighed when he saw the tears in your eyes and reached for his shirt.

"No, wait," you grabbed his hand and settled into his lap, wrapping yourself around him in a tight hug. You rubbed your hands over his shoulder blades feeling a myriad of raised skin, forming other unseen scars that covered his back. Your chin quivered, faced with the irrefutable proof of the pain his father inflicted on him and you let the tears drip onto the skin of his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I knew what he did to you but somehow I still didn't know."

"It's over, Y/N, he's never going to touch me or Sam ever again. Not even when he gets out of prison. I'll kill him myself before that happens." He said as if he was promising himself.

You went to kiss him again but he turned away and pushed you off of his lap. You sat next to him on the couch and he slipped his shirt back on and rubbed the nape of his neck, then sighed as looked at you.

That look of lust in Dean's eyes was gone and now he was stopping whatever this was between you before it got out of hand. Even if it was the last thing either of you wanted.

"Y/N. My heart will always beat wild for you whenever we're together, but it's also like I can't think rationally when we're close like this. My mind and body are clouded by this fleeting feeling and when it's gone neither of us are going to feel any better about this. And that's exactly why this can't happen now. You're still trying to figure things out and I can't stand in the way of that. You're not done growing yet. So for now, my heart stays here," he tapped the left side of his chest twice, "And I'm not caging it, I'm containing it because if I released it, it would devour you."

"Couples grow together, Dean. Haven't you ever heard of growing old together."

"Couples grow together when the time is right." He brushed the sweat-dampened hair from his face.

"How do we know when the time is right?" You asked.

"Because it'll be easy... natural.” He explained, cupping your cheek with his palm and running the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I want it to be easy now." You said, grabbing his wrist as he pulled his hand away.

"Trust me, me too. But when we get there, it'll be worth the wait because there will be nothing standing in our way. You'll know it's what you want." He said as if he still wasn't sure you wanted him.

"I know that now. I want you now." If there was one thing you were sure about, it was that. Your feelings for him had only cemented since you were sixteen.

"You think you know that now, Y/N. You're still young." He said like he still saw the girl he'd first met and finally pulled his hand away.

"Just because I haven't figured out what I want to study doesn't mean I'm a baby. I may never know, Dean." You frowned.

You were more than old enough to know what you wanted in your romantic life. You wanted a man to treat you right like you knew Dean would. He'd proved it time and time again in almost every other way.

"I never said you were a baby. I just want you to take this time to focus on yourself. Be selfish for once. Do you really think it'll be easy to start something now when I live halfway across the country and who knows when we'll get to see each other again." He explained making too much sense for your dopamine soaked brain. "I won't lose you to some meaningless fling when that's the complete opposite of what I want."

"Maybe, I could go to college here." You thought out loud but you liked the sounds of it.

"Or maybe you could figure out what you want rather than make decisions based on me."

"But, Dean-"

"Y/N, how can I ask you to move here for me and shape your life around me when this is only my home for the now."

"What do you mean?" You asked and sank back into the couch, feeling unwanted.

"Sam wants to transfer to Stanford Law after his degree here in USF. That gives me time to get some work experience and him some time to get to know the closest thing we have left to family. That means three and half years from now California will be our home and I don't know what comes after that. I can’t ask you to move with us, take you away from your family, your home, your friends, interrupt your own studies; that’s not fair to you. Maybe one day, when I can take a breath, when we’re both settled... All I want is you happy.”

He was right. You had a chance at a life of your own, the only problem was that it wouldn’t include Dean. Not in any physical form anyhow and you were torn, between building a future, and the boy who taught you to care.

"You make me happy." You decided.

"No. I would make you happy for now but it wouldn't last. You deserve more than that, more than I can give you right now. I plan on changing that, I plan on being the guy that can make your dreams come true, but right now, that's just a fantasy." He explained and shook his head like he could see a future that you couldn't.

One where you were together, but how long would that take? A fantasy. That's exactly what it felt like, a fantasy, meaning it would never come true. He would just keep waiting and wasting time until it was too late.

You knew you didn't want that.

"You're saying 'right now' a lot but tomorrow never comes, Dean."

"Our tomorrow will." He said with conviction in the greens of his eyes. "Just not today, Y/N, sorry."

"All right...” You sighed when you saw Dean’s pout. The way his eyes pleaded for you to understand and you did. Being open to love took more than just turning a certain age and it wasn’t your time yet. “Okay, it’s okay, Dean, I get it.” You smiled, “Happy Birthday."

Dean wasn’t ready. You could see he was overwhelmed and he was still figuring things out for himself. He was willing to wait for you two years ago, now you could wait for him.

You stayed the rest of the month, helping out Dean in the garage with small jobs. Bobby didn’t object even though it probably took you twice the amount of time to change oil as it would if they did it themselves and they had to double check everything you did. Short of retightening a few bolts though, you thought you got the hang of it pretty quick.

When January turned to February and things were starting to get too comfortable, you knew you couldn’t continue to hide in Sioux Falls forever. You had to get back home and take that next step. Otherwise, you were in for a life standing still.

“Y/N, can you come here for a minute?” Dean called from the front door of his apartment.

“Hey,” you walked out from the kitchen, having just put a lasagna in the oven.

Bobby and Jody were coming over for dinner and Sam would be home from class soon.

“Put your boots and coat on, I’ve got something to show you.” He bit back a beaming smile and raised his brows.

“What’s this all about?” You asked, dressing in your winter gear.

“You’ll see,” he smirked and pulled your toque down over your eyes like a blindfold.

“Ugh, Dean, I don’t like this.” You said, stretching out your arms to feel around.

“Two minutes, trust me.” He said, directing you out of the apartment and into the elevator.

You squirmed with his hands on your shoulders as he directed you out into the parking lot, snow crushing under your boots from the storm the night before. You trusted him but you were starting to lose your equilibrium.

“All right, open your eyes.” Dean said, pulling off your toque to reveal the monstrosity of a truck in front of you; with orange paint the shade of a pumpkin. It was the shop truck you had helped him with your first day here. “Before you say anything, you’ll need wheels to get you home and then to college and anywhere else life takes you. I know you think the paint job is ugly but this truck is safe and reliable and best of all, I won’t worry about you driving it. Well... I’ll worry less.”

You shook your head, “The colour is perfect,” and it was, “And I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“You already have, Y/N. You worked at the garage for no pay.” He said as if a week's pay would've been enough to afford the truck.

“That was fun and you and I both know that I held you guys up all week.” You said and cocked your head with a shy smile.

“No, you didn’t. We liked having you there, you boosted our morale, and Bobby and I wanted to do something to show our appreciation.” He said, holding out the keys for you and jingling them. "Please, just let me do this for you."

You nodded, “I love it.” You launched yourself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. “Thank you.” You kissed his cheek again and again.

“Now, next time you visit I won’t have to worry about getting a call from you broken down on the side of the road.” He laughed, hugging you back and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You won’t because it’s your turn to visit me next time.”

_________________________

Part 7

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch

#spnfluffbingo2022 #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x #dean winchester x #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #wild hearts series

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