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thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 3 years

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Nothing Like You

Summary: Sam’s usually not the pining kind. He’s put his feelings for you aside some time ago. A chance encounter brings everything back, but this time things are different and Sam is done pretending.

Created for: @princessmisery666 ‘s Daily Mix Challenge

Prompt: ‘Nothing Like This’ by Blonde and Craig David

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Sam is smitten, bad humor on my part

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: Stacey, you absolutely wonderful darling of an angel, thank you for being you. As promised, here’s my entry for your challenge. Hope you like it <3

Beta: @slytherkins (So are you, btw. Wonderful. Amazing. A gift.)

|| JJ’s Masterlist || Tip me <3

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Sam hadn’t seen you since that hunt in Mississippi. The one where he almost kissed you. Dean had ripped him a new one when they were back in Baby, on their way home to the bunker. He had seen the look in Sam’s eyes whenever they were focused on you and Dean knew his little brother well enough to recognize what it had meant. It was the first time in a while they had met a new pair of hunters they worked well with. Seeing as they always had a new fight ahead of them, it would be nice to be able to continue calling the couple their allies. However, as Dean had told Sam that night in the car, staying on good terms with their new acquaintances wouldn’t be an option anymore if the guy caught Sam drooling over his girlfriend.

It hadn’t been like Sam at all to fall for someone so fast and so hard. Out of him and his brother, he was usually better at keeping things professional whenever needed. And with you already being in a relationship, this had definitely been the case. Yet, there was something about you, something about the way you made him feel, that had convinced him the two of you were meant to be more than just friends. But that was then, and despite his silent hoping, you hadn’t crossed paths since.

Until he found himself back in Mississippi and back in your presence. Sam wasn’t quite sure what it was about the southern state and running into you, but he wasn’t complaining.

A haunting at a mansion had brought you both to the same city. You’d both shown up to the crime scene where the victim was lying in a pool of her own blood - not exactly the kind of setting in which Sam had hoped he would see you again.

The victim left behind a distraught husband and two children, who had all said they’d noticed some cold spots but hadn’t seen anything strange. The family’s staff hadn’t been able to help you out either. Though, they did mention something that was of interest to the two faux FBI-agents: one of the staff members had unexpectedly quit earlier that day.

After having asked around a bit, they found out the best way to get a hold of their possible witness was to visit him at the nightclub he frequented on the weekends.

“We should probably make sure we blend in a little more before we head into a place like that,” you had suggested while heading back to your respective cars.

“I’d do anything you say,” Sam had kept to himself while he watched you drive off to your motel.

Another thing he hadn’t mentioned was the lack of backup you had shown up with. For just a second, he had allowed himself to think maybe you weren’t with Rowan anymore. But he knew there were plenty of reasons why the other hunter hadn’t joined you on this simple hunt. After all, Dean hadn’t come with Sam on this one either, simply because he had been called elsewhere. The same could just as easily have been true for your boyfriend.

Inside the club, it was even louder than Sam had expected when the two of you entered. Music was blasting from every direction and people were talking loudly while moving along on the dancefloor to the beat. Sam had changed out of his fed suit and into some worn out jeans and a gray shirt. He hadn’t exactly been sure what you had meant by ‘blending in’ to a place like this, since this kind of scene had never been his thing.

Luckily, you hadn’t gone all out, either. Unluckily, you didn’t have to do much to drive Sam crazy. Your pantsuit had been traded in for a playful light blue dress that hung loosely around your frame, reaching just above your knees. Your hair was down for a change, only a few strands being pinned up and secured at the back of your head. With your line of work, you always had your hair tied where it couldn’t get in the way. Sam had never seen your locks catch in the wind like they’d done outside before they entered the nightclub. He’d been unaware he had been staring until you put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was ready to head inside.

How he’d made it inside and onto the dancefloor with you, he couldn’t quite remember. But somehow he had ended up in front of you, surrounded by a bunch of people moving in ways that might’ve even made Dean blush.

“Sam,” you called over the music. “Sam, hey!” Your hand was waving in front of his face and eventually he managed to focus his eyes back on yours. “You’re all stiff!” you said, laughing.

Sam’s eyes grew wide with panic and his head shot down so fast it should’ve given him whiplash. His face burned red as he looked down at his crotch but nothing seemed to be going on down there. In front of him, your laughing became louder.

Your hand reached for his chin to push his head back up and make him look at you. “I meant your dancing,” you said, clearly trying to suppress another fit of laughter. “Loosen up a bit, we’re trying to look like we’re supposed to be here, remember?”

Sam’s cheeks burned an even brighter red as he felt your hand fall from his face and move to his arm, sliding all the way down until you could wrap your hand around his. You grabbed his other hand as well, and when Sam realized you were trying to pull his body into motion, he did his best to attempt something that might have been viewed by some people as dancing. If those people were squinting, from a couple miles away, and it was completely dark.

You laughed again and Sam almost wanted to just keep embarrassing himself so he could keep hearing that wonderful sound. No doubt people around you were watching him struggle, too. But all he could focus on was you, that was all that mattered to him in that moment.

Undoubtedly realizing your attempts weren’t doing much so far, you changed tactics by placing your hands on his waist and moving closer to him. You beckoned him to lean in and Sam dipped his head so he could hear you better.

“Try to relax,” you instructed him with that sweet voice of yours. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, your body started moving and Sam wouldn’t have been able to resist moving along with you if he had wanted to. Which he definitely, one hundred percent, did not.

Your bodies moved in sync, perfectly fitting against each other as the music blasted on in the background. Everything around you faded away until it was just him and you. Sam let you guide him effortlessly and tried to loosen up like you told him.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You made him feel a certain way, a way he hadn’t experienced before. It was killing him not to act on it. The way you were moving against him wasn’t helping much, either.

“Where’d you learn to move like…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he looked at you, his eyes darkening, “...this.”

You grinned at him, causing his heart to be flung right out of his chest. “We all have our ways to blow off steam,” you explained, moving your lips closer to his ear so you wouldn’t have to speak as loud. “I used to go out like this a lot when I first started hunting.”

“With your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” You barely missed a beat.

The simple word could have just been plain information, a life-update to a friend who hadn’t caught up yet. But there was this look in your eyes that told Sam you meant something different by telling him.

After all this wondering, and thinking ‘what if’, Sam wasn’t sure if he should act so fast. Then he saw you raise an eyebrow, and your bottom lip was sucked between your teeth as you looked straight into his eyes.

All the doubt that had forced him to hold back was thrown out the window in a single motion. He finally let go and his large hands grabbed your ass to pull you even closer against him. Your hands moved to his neck and in an instant, your lips were on his. He kissed you hungrily, music drowning out even further into the background. All Sam could hear was the pounding in his ears and the sweet sounds you made when his teeth tugged at your bottom lip.

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#JJ's fics #PMDailyMix666 #supernatural #sam x reader #spn oneshot #pining #Sam Winchester #sam winchester oneshot #spnfanficpond

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haus-seeblick · 3 years

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Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Title: “Messy”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Original Characters

Tags: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst, Breaking The Rules, Dean is Sam's Real Parent (But he shouldn't have to be), Dean Giving Sam a Childhood, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Meets a Cute Boy, Unwanted Haircut, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean is 13 and Sam is 9

Summary: John leaves Dean and Sam alone at a motel the day before Halloween. Despite John's hard-and-fast rules about leaving the motel room, Sam convinces Dean to take him trick-or-treating. While they're out, Dean meets a boy who makes him feel like breaking the rules was worth it.

On AO3 Here

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“Dean, you know the drill,” John says brusquely as he hoists the duffel over his shoulder. “Tell me the rules.”

Dean stands up from where he’s folding laundry on the motel room floor. They stopped at the laundromat this morning, John tossing Dean just enough quarters for two small loads before taking Sam along with him to the local library for research. They’ve been tracking a creature for days and John’s still not sure exactly what it is.

Dean would have loved to help with the books. Instead he sat in front of the laundry machine, exactly the same as the hundreds of others he’s fed with quarters over the years, and watched their clothes spin around and around. He noticed new holes in Sam’s jeans and socks when he moved them to the dryer. If his dad will let him use some of their wound-stitching thread, he’ll repair them after this hunt.

He faces his dad, posture straight and hands behind his back. “The rules are stay in the room, keep the doors and windows locked, don’t answer the door for anyone except you and Bobby, only spend money if I absolutely have to, and always have a weapon in reach,” he rattles off.

John nods, face impassive. “And the most important rule?”

“Protect Sammy,” Dean says firmly. He glances over to the rickety table under the window, where his scrawny little brother is filling out a worksheet. It’s part of the last round of homework their teachers had given them at their previous school, right before John took them out again to hit the road.

Dean quietly tossed his own homework in the garbage and told Sammy to finish every worksheet, because he was going to mail it back to the school and his teacher would check it. Sam’s even writing a letter in the cursive he’s learning to go along with it.

Dean has no clue what the address of the school is.

John pulls the Impala key out of his pocket and opens the door. “I’ll be out of cell range during this next leg. Check in date is Thursday. Don’t call for help until Sunday.”

Dean nods. John steps halfway out the door before turning back. He eyes Dean for a long moment, as if he’s trying to come up with something to add. Eventually he just says “I’m cutting your hair when I get back. You look messy.”

The door closes. In the silence of the room, Dean reaches up and touches his bangs. Just this morning, in the reflection of the washing machine door, he admired how his hair was curling a bit over his ears. It framed his face and made him look softer. Less skinny. More like the other boys he’d seen at school.

Oh well.

The Impala roars to life outside in the parking lot, and Dean listens until the purr of the engine fades away down the road. He looks at the half-folded pile of laundry at his feet.

“Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

Dean jumps a little. Sam’s right next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Dean pushes him away and drops onto the couch, nudging a balled-up pair of socks with his foot. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Sam sits down next to him. “Dean, I think Dad forgot about Halloween.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He didn’t forget, Sammy. It just doesn’t matter.” He avoids looking at his brother, running his fingers over the ridge of threads barely holding together the hole in his own jeans.

“But I told James I’d be a doctor,” Sam needles. “He’s gonna be a pirate.”

Sam’s ability to instantly make friends always leaves Dean feeling half-proud, half-nervous. Sam was in third grade with James for less than two weeks, and he still talks about him constantly.

Dean thinks it’s better not to get attached. He just can’t bring himself to teach Sam that particular lesson yet.

He sighs and glances at Sam. “You know you can’t trick-or-treat with James anyway, right? He’s in Denver.”

Sam groans dramatically and flops against the hard backrest of the couch. His shaggy hair falls into his face. Dean looks at the longest strands, curving past Sam’s cheekbones.

“We can just do Halloween here,” he suggests, even though he knows “buying candy from the gas station” definitely doesn’t count as necessary spending.

Sam shakes his head where it’s still resting on the couch. “That’s not real Halloween.”

“We’ve never done a real Halloween, so how would you know?” Dean’s just buying time now, putting off the moment when he has to say “no.”

The stink-eye that’s sent his way is of epic proportions. “I watch TV, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. “Sammy--”

“--Oh, please, Dean, please!” Sam shifts into begging mode, sitting up and whipping out the puppy eyes. His left eye is half-covered by hair. “I know we’re not allowed, but can’t we break the rules just one time? It can be a secret.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, but Sam’s more stubborn. Dean looks away first, his eyes falling to the laundry on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he reaches under the lumpy couch cushion next to him and lets his fingers graze the pistol stashed there. His stomach rumbles and he wonders how far he can stretch their last cans of soup.

Suddenly, a secret doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay,” he says.

Sam must’ve not expected Dean to relent, because he’s silent for a couple seconds before whooping and launching himself at Dean. “Ahh! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He hugs Sam back, the kid’s bony shoulder digging into his ribcage. After a moment, he pulls away and puts on his most serious face. Hands on Sam’s upper arms, he looks him straight in the eyes. “Sam, if we do this, you cannot tell Dad. Do you understand?”

Sam nods enthusiastically, still grinning. Dean digs his fingers into his arms. “Listen to me, or we’re not going.” He waits for Sam’s face to fall a little before continuing. “You can’t just not tell Dad, you can’t drop hints. You have to clean up all your wrappers. We can never talk about it. Do you get it?”

Sam’s eyes are wide now. He nods again, very small, and Dean knows he’s gotten through. He loosens his grip on Sam’s arms. “All right, then. How are we gonna make you look like a doctor?”

Sam beams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, they lock the motel room door behind them and head out. The neighborhood that starts a few streets behind the motel is pretty normal, as far as Dean can tell. The houses aren’t super big, but the yards are, and there are toys scattered on some of the lawns. The biggest house on the corner even has a tree swing. The big tree reminds him of the one in their front yard in Lawrence. He tries not to think about that too much.

It’s dark, and chilly -- they’re still in Colorado -- and Dean holds his jacket closed in front of his chest. The zipper broke a couple weeks ago. Ahead of him, Sam doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. His “doctor coat” flaps behind his legs as he skips down the sidewalk. It’s just a sheet from the bed that Dean stuck together with safety pins in a certain way (it doesn’t look like a coat at all, but the mirror in the motel bathroom was shattered so Sam couldn’t see it anyway). He hung their stethoscope from the big first-aid kit around Sam’s neck, with the express instruction not to lose it, and he emptied the rest of the first-aid kit onto the couch so Sam could carry the empty box with the big red cross and look professional.

Sam hasn’t smiled this much in weeks. Dean’s neck is crawling with the knowledge that he’s breaking rules, bigtime, but he shakes it off. They’re out now. It’s done.

Sam has already latched on to a group of kids making their way up the drive to a single-story brick house. Dean hears him introduce himself, sees him flash the big toothy smile that Dean told him makes him look friendly. The other kids compliment his stethoscope, and Dean relaxes a little.

Everyone in the group is wearing what looks like homemade costumes, too — there’s another bedsheet, draped over a short kid’s head like a ghost (if only ghosts actually looked like that, Dean thinks); and a long black coat, obviously from an adult, dwarfing a kid who Dean’s pretty sure is supposed to be a vampire. Sam, in his makeshift getup, fits right in.

Dean’s trailing behind the group, letting Sam do his making-friends thing, when he notices another older kid doing the same. He looks about Dean’s age, maybe a year older, fourteen or so, and he’s dressed like an angel with a blue halo made out of pipe cleaners. The rest of his outfit is normal, though — a t-shirt that’s printed to look like a suit and tie, under a regular puffy winter coat. Dean’s eyes linger on him as they follow the younger kids up to the house. When they come to a stop so Sam can ring the doorbell, the other boy looks over at Dean, too.

“Hi,” he says. In the yellow glow of the porchlight, his eyes look greenish blue. “I’m Al.” He reaches out a hand. Dean looks at it for a moment, then takes it. They shake. Al’s hand is warm and smooth, a stark contrast to Dean’s freezing, calloused palm. Dean wishes he could hold on a bit longer.

“Dean,” he replies, dropping Al’s hand. He’s not sure what to say next. That’s Sam’s area of expertise.

Luckily, Al doesn’t let him flounder long. “Do you live around here?” he asks, friendly and curious. Dean’s used to hearing that question asked with a thick layer of suspicion, usually out of the mouth of some nosy adult. He still gives his practiced answer, though.

“No, me and my brother are just visiting our grandparents for a couple days.”

Al nods, accepting the lie easily. “I thought I’d never seen you at school.” He points at the sheet-clad ghost. “That’s my sister Katie. She’s seven. It’s the first time our parents are letting me take her trick-or-treating on our own.”

Dean smiles and gestures at Sam, who’s holding the empty first-aid kit out to the homeowner for candy. “That’s Sam. He’s nine. Same deal for us.”

“I like his costume,” Al says. Dean bristles for a moment, until he realizes Al’s being sincere.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like Katie’s too.” He sweeps his eyes over Al again. “Why are you wearing a fake suit with your halo?”

Al looks down at himself and laughs sheepishly, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. “I wanted to do a toga with a sheet, but it’s way too cold. I just dressed up ‘cause Katie wanted me to. The halo was the quickest thing.”

“It works,” Dean assures him, suddenly wanting Al to feel good about himself. He shuffles his feet a little, kicking at the fallen leaves littering the walkway. Al smiles at him and something grows in Dean’s chest, a warm, glowing ball, making everything feel tight and tingly. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Sam appears at his elbow suddenly, much to Dean’s relief. He ruffles Sam’s hair. “What’d you get?”

Already chewing on something that looks very caramelly as it squishes between his teeth, Sam holds out the first-aid kit. “She gave me two big ones!” he announces around his mouthful. Two full-sized Milky Ways, one already half-unwrapped, slide around in the box.

“Cool,” Dean says. “Don’t get a stomachache.”

“They’re gonna get stomachaches,” Al says ruefully as Sam and Katie bounce down the driveway to hit the next house. “We should steal some of their candy, y’know, just to protect them.”

The word protect briefly jolts Dean out of his growing sense of relaxation and he sneakily pats his chest, feeling the sheathed knife tucked away in the inside pocket. He makes sure he can still see Sammy (now bounding up the walkway of the next house), and takes a breath. Everything’s under control.

“You okay?” Al’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together, a lock of dark hair falling into the crease. He has nice hair, Dean decides. Floppy and kind of messy, squished flat in the middle by the band of the pipe cleaner halo.

“Yep,” he says, forcing the cheer into his voice. If Al notices, he doesn’t say anything. They continue to follow their siblings through the neighborhood, leaving some distance so they can talk. Al tells Dean about school, that he likes science and hates history, that his favorite band is Journey, that he wants to play soccer but his dad wants him to play football, and that he wants to be a veterinarian.

“I like cars,” Dean says in response. “I’m not great at school. Not sure what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Not sure how to tell you that I’ll probably be hunting monsters for the rest of my life.

Al leans on the picket fence of the house that they’re currently waiting outside. “You could be a teacher,” he says.

Dean narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “I just told you I’m bad at school.”

Al shrugs. “My favorite teacher says he didn’t like school. That’s why he’s so good at helping us. He gets it.”

The heavy layer of clouds above them breaks, and a ray of moonlight lands across Al’s face. They’re standing between streetlights, so the silvery glow makes Al’s blueish eyes gleam. Dean finds he has to breathe a little harder than normal. He shakes his head.

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna be a teacher, it’s Sammy. He’s really smart.”

Al hums and pushes off the fence. Sam and Katie are moving on again. “I don’t know, man. You seem smart to me.” He pats Dean on the shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through Dean’s threadbare jacket.

In the relative darkness, Dean smiles so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

Eventually, they’ve stopped at every house in the neighborhood. Dean’s pockets are full of the candy that doesn’t fit into Sam’s overflowing first-aid kit. Al’s coat pockets are bulging, too. Sam and Katie run sugar-hyped circles under a streetlight while Dean and Al stand on the corner, looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“Uh-- I’m glad we ran into you guys,” Al says finally. “You’re really cool.”

Dean’s glad that he’s the one facing away from the streetlight, because his cheeks heat up and probably look way pinker than they would from just the cold.

“You too,” he says. “Wish we lived around here.”

“Where do you live?” Al asks. “You know, just in case we ever take a road trip.”

Unless your destination’s my dad’s car, I don’t think you’re gonna run into me.

“Sioux Falls,” he says. “South Dakota. I live with my uncle.”

If Al finds that strange, he doesn’t pry. Dean could hug him. He wants to hug him.

Katie comes barrelling over, dragging her pillowcase of candy along the pavement. She’s huffing from running around, ghost sheet dangling half off her body. “Al, I’m soooo tired.” She flops against her brother. Sam comes trotting up behind her and grins at Dean. Dean tries to smile back, but there’s a lump in his throat, something that’s making it hard to breathe.

Al pats Katie on the head. “We should probably go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

Still taking tight little breaths, Dean nods. “Uh-- yeah, us too. See if Sam can sleep off the sugar rush.”

“How long are you staying with your grandparents?” Al asks.

Dean looks at his feet. Weighs the pros and cons of sneaking out again. He’d have to take Sam; there aren’t actually any grandparents who could watch him.

He can’t risk it.

“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he says, every word dropping like lead. Sam shoots him a confused look, but he ignores it.

Unless he’s imagining it, Al’s face seems to fall. “Aw, too bad. Wait! Hang on.” He rummages through his candy-heavy pockets until he pulls out a little spiral notebook and a nub of a pencil. He writes something on a page and rips it out. He hands it to Dean.

“Our phone number,” he says with a little smile. He steps forward and the streetlight catches his eyes again. Dean thinks that in the sunlight, they’d be bright blue. Al gestures at the paper. “You’ve got a phone at your uncle’s, right? Maybe you can call me sometime.”

There are way too many feelings jumbling around in Dean’s chest for him to say anything coherent, so he just nods. Al smiles wider. “Cool. I’m happy we met you.” He takes one more step forward and — Dean stops breathing altogether — wraps his arms briefly around Dean’s shoulders. He’s very warm. His hair smells good. Dean’s brain doesn’t catch up quite in time, and he misses his chance to hug back. The edge of Al’s halo brushes Dean’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Al says, putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders and turning to go. “Have a good drive back home!”

Dean clears his throat. “Bye, guys,” he says lamely. Sam waves enthusiastically to make up for it. They stand under the streetlight for a long few minutes, watching Al and Katie go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam manages to eat every piece of candy by Thursday morning, which is the day they’re supposed to hear from John. Dean makes him eat canned vegetable soup in between meals of Mars bars and Skittles. They scrounge the motel room for wrappers, tossing them all into a big garbage bag that Dean’s going to throw into the dumpster outside. He finishes folding the laundry, counts the money to make sure it’s all there, re-packs the first aid kit, and puts the sheet back on the bed without the safety pins.

Anytime the unease creeps in about having broken the rules, he looks at his brother’s shining face and pushes it back down. He and Sam rehearse their story in case John asks them what they did and Sam even finishes all of his worksheets. Dean folds them up and hides them at the very bottom of his duffle. He tells Sam he put them into the mailbox in the motel office.

And every few hours, he pulls the folded little piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and looks at it. In careful handwriting, Al had written:

Alan Montgomery

(from Halloween. I hope you call.)

And his phone number.

Thursday afternoon, Dean takes the candy-wrapper garbage bag out to the parking lot. At the last second, he pulls Al’s note out of his jeans. After a long moment of reading and re-reading it, he gently folds it back up and tosses it into the bag. He throws the whole thing into the dumpster.

But not before memorizing the number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John gets home late Thursday night. Before they check out of the motel on Friday, John sits Dean down on the toilet seat in the bathroom and pulls out his electric clippers.

While John has his back turned, plugging in the clippers by the sink, Dean pushes his hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands bunch up between his fingers and fall back down onto his ears. He remembers Al’s messy hair brushing his cheek when they hugged.

John flips the clippers on and the buzzing fills the bathroom. For the second time, Dean is glad that the mirror is shattered.

With every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground, Dean recites Al’s number in his head.

“There,” John says gruffly, after the floor and Dean’s lap are littered with honey brown strands. “You look like a man again.”

Dean stands up, brushing off his jeans. His head feels cold. “I’ll get a broom,” he says.

He’s halfway out the bathroom door when John says “Dean.”

Dean freezes, already wondering where he left a wrapper, how John found the garbage bag, if Sam let something slip. He slowly turns back. John’s wrapping the cord around the clippers.

“I need you to come on the next hunt. We’ll drop Sam off at Bobby’s.”

Bobby’s, where the telephone is. Dean’s heart beats hard for a different reason now. He tries to look casual. “Are we gonna stay for a bit?”

John’s already shaking his head before Dean’s done talking. He pushes past him and drops the clippers into his duffel bag on the bed. “No. We’ll be on the road for a while.” He stops and looks at Dean. “Weren’t you going to find a broom?”

Dean loads a dustpan with his hair and empties it on top of the garbage bag in the dumpster.

He whispers Al’s number again.

#suptober21 #sorry for the angst #it's Hating John Hours over here #Al is not intended to be a time-traveling Cas btw #I just liked the idea of a pipe-cleaner halo and of Dean having a type #Anyway Dean is Sam's parent #Fuck John Winchester #Dean deserved a cute teenage boyfriend #spn fanfic #ficlet

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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

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Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

“Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

“Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

“You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

“But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

“Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

“Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

“It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

“Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

“This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

“And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

“Go to hell.”

“I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

“You should be.”

“Beg pardon?”

Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

“Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

“Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

“This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

“Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

“I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

“Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

“The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

“You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

“Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

“It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

“I guess something has to.”

“You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

“Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

“I love you too, dad.”

“That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

“No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

Like Castiel.

Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

“Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

“What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

“Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

“You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

“Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

“Dean –“

“No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

“When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

Disgusting.

He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

“You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 coda #15x19 inherit the earth #dean winchester #lucifer #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #supernatural fanfic #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

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Like Chardonnay, Get Better Over Time

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Dean’s a bit of a sleazy brotherly scumbag, implied smut.

A/N: I guess I’m back to writig fanfic? What?

This was inspired by THIS imagine from @luci-in-trenchcoats ! Thoughts?

As soon as she’d heard both boys were leaving the bunker, she knew she could finally take the time to properly do the self care she was in dire need of. After two months of hunting, and research, and hunting, with barely a couple of hours of sleep between each, finally she has some downtime, completely alone, for just a bit. It’s time for her to pull out the big guns.

Steam is fogging up the mirror in the showers as she slips out, feet bare and pruned from the time spent under the water, legs newly shaved. With her hair still wet, she pulls on a pair of underwear and one of Sam's biggest flannels, cotton soft on her skin. Dean doesn’t care much for quality in his clothes, he buys any shirt he likes the color of. Sam on the other hand… Sam gets the good quality stuff, true cotton, thick and warm, as a reminder that he can make his own decisions and isn’t forced to buy everything from rushed trips to Target anymore.

The rings in her fingers shine a little under the lights as she folds the sleeves of the flannel right above her elbows, and pulls her hair in a quick French braid, so they'll be curly when dry.

As much as Y/n loves Dean's cassette tapes and classic rock tunes, sometimes- just sometimes- she'll admit to liking some newer, more dancey songs, stuff that's pop and upbeat. It's something she'll be judged for under the elder Winchester's roof, so she usually listens to it with earbuds shoved deeply in her ears, and a quiet bob of her head. Now, though, alone in the bunker, it's a unique chance, and she'll be damned if she doesn't fucking take it.

Feet in fluffy socks, she runs to the war room, pulls out her phone and sets the volume as high as it can go, dancing to a Lizzo song, because she likes her, and there's nothing more to it. She doesn't have to explain herself to anyone. Yeah. She feels a little sentimental, because she knows her grandfather was quite the dancer, and it's been a while since she's thought of him. She misses him, so she dedicates a spin or two to him, and continues belting lyrics at the top of her lungs.

Juice ain't worth the squeeze,

If the juice don't look like this!

It took a while to love herself, and if any song brings that confidence to the surface, it's gotta be that one.

Feeling happy, and comfortable in her own skin, she jumps on the map table and waves her hands in the air. It's not the most graceful she can be, but she doesn't much care for looking good, as much as feeling herself, and catching every beat with a swing of her hips, a wink to no one in particular. In fact, this feels good enough to open a button or two in her flannel, just for herself, because feeling this free is such an incredible and rare feeling.

She loses count of the songs, but it's near the first ten or so when the last one ends, and she stops, smiling to take a breath, halting as she spots none other than a young Winchester. Hair neatly pulled behind his ears, arms crossed over his torso, leaning against the door frame, with that gorgeous, proud smile of his. She pants, grinning wide and willing herself not to feel self conscious, because whatever the case, no matter how ridiculous she may have looked, she'd had her fun, and that was that.

"I guess you're back then. Supply run went well?" Sam shakes his head, still smiling.

"Wow," he tells her, eyes scanning her from head to toe, like she's the most beautiful thing in the room, like nothing else could hold his attention quite like the rebellious strands escaping from her braid, the folded sleeves, the bare legs in fuzzy socks. He pushes off the door frame and starts walking towards her. "Just wow," no sarcasm in his voice, no irony, just true admiration for the girl he loves, because she looks so happy and free. He stands in front of her on the table, as she comes close to the edge, placing his wide palms on the backs of her legs, under her knees, and looks up at her with that smile. She strokes his hair behind his ears a little, smoothing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders and holding his chin gently between her fingers. “I gotta say,” he mutters, fingers absent-mindedly stroking her skin, “you’ve got some moves.”

A laugh escapes her lips as she smacks his shoulder. “Shut up.” His grin is unmatched and, in a smooth motion, Sam’s hands are up to her waist, and he’s lifting her off the table and on him. She wraps her arms and legs around him with a loud squeal and a laugh, suddenly a little above eye-level. “Don’t drop me,” she mutters breathlessly, grinning down at him. Sam only lets her slide a little, sit on the table in front of him with him between her legs. He nuzzles his nose into her cheek and pecks a kiss there. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She grins again, heat crawling up her neck and burning her cheeks and the tips of her ears, and he sees it, tucking some wayward escapee strands back behind her ear. She wants to shy away.

“You look amazing,” he tells her, tone low, letting his gaze roam from her eyes, down her body and her naked legs, wrapped around his torso. Forehead leaning against hers for a brief second, his hands trail up, cupping her face, and he kisses her just under her left brow softly, so softly. He moves then, and y/n sighs, hands going to his forearms, as he presses his lips on her right eyelid, then blazes a path with his lips, down her cheek, on her jaw, right under the cut of it, near her ear, where he takes a breath. “Smell amazing too,” and goosebumps form all around her body. She feels so fucking hot.

“Not on my fucking map table, you two.” Dean’s voice cuts through Sam’s heavy breaths, and the latter sags a little bit in her arms.

“Dean’s here?”

“He was unloading the car,” Sam mutters and barely moves, shielding herfrom his brother’s view, as Dean saunters with that stupid, cocky smile of his in the War Room. He whistles, looking at her, half naked.

“Looking good, Y/n,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. Climbing off the table and grabbing Sam’s hand, she pulls him away, towards their shared room.

“Jackass,” she mutters under her breath, passing by him. And as they walk down the hall, his voice bounces off the walls.

“Use protection, kids!”

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn #supernatural fanfiction #sam x fem!reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam fluff #sam winchester fluff

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casgetoutofmyass0907 · 3 years

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“Playing Games”

New Fic is up on my ao3: “Playing Games”

Summary: Dean and Castiel have a prank war, do I have to say more?

“If you get me his phone, I might reconsider,” Dean said to Sam, a sly smile plastered on his face.

Sam looked up from his computer to look at Castiel, who was passed out on the couch from drinking too many beers. Being human has its faults, and Cas was a lightweight when it came to drinking. “Seriously Dean? You won’t place an order for pizza unless I steal Cas’s phone?” Sam says before looking at his brother, who was now grinning like a child, elbows placed on the table and his head in his hands as he straws at Sam.

“Mhmm. Come on Sammy, you go steal his phone so I can fill his camera roll with random pictures, and then I will order the pizza.”

Dean and Cas had been pulling pranks on each other for well over a week now. They were dumb, childish pranks, but it allowed them to have some fun in between hunts. Cas was drunk so it was the opportune time for Dean to make his next move.

Sam scoffed and went back to his computer, looking for a new case. “No, Dean. I’m not getting in the middle of your prank war. I’m glad you’re having fun and all but leave me out of it.”

Dean’s smile faded as he recalled the last prank Cas had pulled. “He put shaving cream on a piece of pie yesterday.” Sam looked up from his computer once again, unamused having heard this story five times already today. “Shaving cream, Sam.”

“Yes, Dean I know. You told me already”

Dean continued retelling the story, ignoring the fact that Sam was trying to speak. “It was a beautiful piece of warm apple pie, and I was very excited about it, but he went and ruined it with shaving cream.” Dean faked a shudder “I can still taste it.”

Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he went back to typing. “I’m not stealing his phone. You can do that yourself.”

“He went too far this time! No one messes with my pie and gets away with it. I would appreciate your support on this man.” Dean leaned back in his chair, raising a lukewarm beer to his lips and taking a drink. He grimaced at the taste, he was never a fan of warm beer but he would drink it if he had to.

“I’m still not stealing his phone.”

Dean groaned as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Fine, I’ll do it myself. I’ll remember this next time you need help with anything for Eileen.”

Dean made his way towards Cas, who was snoring lightly as he slept. Once he reached Cas, Dean carefully lifted Cas’s trench coat to reach his hand into the inside pocket where his phone usually resides. He was surprised to find the pocket empty and began to place the coat back. Dean frowned as he looked around, thinking that Cas may have left his phone on the table next to the couch, or that it fell out of his pocket. He was about to give up before he looked back at Cas, who had shifted and was now laying on his side facing the back of the couch, trench coat hanging over his side nearly touching the floor. His shirt had come untucked and was pulled up, exposing part of Cas’s lower back. Dean smiled as he looked at his boyfriend, sleeping peacefully, he let his eyes trail down to the sliver of exposed skin only to see that Cas was wearing jeans as opposed to his usual black slacks.

Dean’s smile grew as he saw Cas’s phone in his back pocket. He walked back over to the couch and carefully pulled the phone out of the pocket, pausing when Cas started to stir. Once Cas settled back into the couch and Dean heard his soft snoring again he pulled the phone the rest of the way out.

Dean turned around to look at Sam, holding the phone up as if he won the lottery and was showing off the winning ticket. “Got it!”

“Good for you Dean, now you can use it to order pizza. Extra onions.” Sam closed his computer and rubbed his eyes.

“Ew, I’ll order it, only so you don’t ruin it with onions. You know I don’t like them on my pizza.” Dean scrunched his face and unlocked Cas’s phone, the password was Dean’s birthday 0124. He dialed the number for their favorite pizza joint down the street, hoping they would still be open. He was excited when the line stopped ringing and he heard a “hello” on the other end.

“Hi, can I place an order for pick up? A large pizza, half meat lover’s half supreme, and some cheesy breadsticks.” Those were Cas’s favorite, they would make for good hangover food, Cas was going to need it.

“That will be ready in 20 minutes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~

Castiel’s head was pounding as he swiped through the pictures on his phone. “I can’t believe you took 200 selfies.” He swiped a few more times and stopped on a picture of Dean sticking his tongue out with his eyes crossed. “What are you even doing in this one?”

Cas handed his phone to Dean, who was trying hard not to laugh, as he took a bite out of a cold breadstick. He moaned at the taste, at least something good came out of last night.

“That’s what you get for ruining a perfectly good piece of pie. You’re lucky I love you and didn’t mess with your breadsticks and chose to fill your camera roll with pictures of my beautiful face instead.” Dean turned the phone off and set it on the side table to his right.

“Well thank you for that. These are just what I needed after last night. One downfall of being human is the hangovers” Cas leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall back, and closed his eyes, popping the last of his breadstick in his mouth. “And headaches”

Dean laughed and rested his head on Cas’s shoulder, closing his own eyes. Cas smelled like beer and cheese but Dean didn’t mind, he was just happy to have a loving boyfriend, who was also his best friend, to lay his head on. He never thought that he and Cas would be where they were now. They had been through so much in the 12 years they have known each other, but now everything was going good for once, so they took a minute to just lean on each other, to be there for each other. Even if they were both still half-drunk from the previous night.

Their days were filled with small jokes, Dean hid Cas’s toothbrush one day, the next Cas filled Dean’s room with balloons. Sam would occasionally help, like the day Dean filled Cas’s bed with plastic snakes or when Cas placed a hundred sticky notes on the windshield of Baby. Dean got Cas back for that prank by spending a whole day pretending to lean in for a kiss but would turn away or grab something from behind Cas before their lips made contact.

Castiel was better at the pranks than Dean, and this time he may have taken it a bit too far.

“CAS GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!”

Dean gave up on trying to brush the glitter off of his shirt. He had managed to get some of it off of his face but hadn’t even tried to shake it out of his hair. Cas had managed to set a trap so that a pound of glitter would fall on him when he opened the door, and now there was glitter everywhere. Dean was considering just switching rooms because there was no way he would be able to get rid of all the fine flakes.

Cas came into the room laughing, Sam trailing behind him wiping tears from his eyes. “You were in on this?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Who do you think put the glitter above the door frame? Cas isn’t tall enough and we don’t own a ladder.” Sam replied with a shrug.

“You said you weren’t getting in the middle of it!”

“I wasn’t going to, but I wasn’t going to say no to you being covered in glitter.” Sam’s smile grew more as he leaned against the door frame, careful to avoid any glitter that may be on the wooden surface.

“Sorry Dean, but you started this. Maybe you shouldn't have put plastic wrap on the toilet seat and I wouldn’t have felt the need to get you back by putting salt in your coffee.” Cas said as he tried to keep himself from laughing at Dean, who was very sparkly and clearly not amused.

“Unbelievable,” Dean said with a shake of his head, frowning as he tried to shake some of the glitter from his hair. He was annoyed but he smirked as he said “You know I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s smile faded when he realized what Dean was planning and he took off running down the hallway. Dean threw a handful of glitter at Sam as he took off after Cas. Cas could outrun a lot of things, but Dean was faster, so when he caught up he threw his arms around Cas transferring some of the glitter onto him. “Damnit Dean, really?”

“I just wanted to give you a hug.” Dean flipped Cas around so they were face to face as he pulled his boyfriend into a bear hug, rubbing his glitter-filled hair over Cas’s face and neck.

They were sweeping glitter out of Dean’s room and the hallways for weeks. “I hate glitter. It’s like a pest, and now we are infested because someone decided it was a good idea to dump a shit ton of it on me.” Dean said as he gave a side-eyed glance to Cas and Sam, blowing a flake of it off of his bacon.

“I happen to love picking pieces of it off of you when we-”

“Okay! I’ve heard enough. I don’t need the details of your extracurriculars.” Sam interrupted Cas before he could finish his sentence, and took a sip of his coffee, trying to erase the mental image Cas planted in his head.

Dean and Cas exchanged a look before they both burst out laughing.

#Destiel #PrankWar #FanFic

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

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Lily Briscoe, Remember?

PART TWENTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a visit to a local bar, Ella catches up with Jess and spends a night in Philadelphia.

Twirling her cool water glass around and around on the grimy table, Ella smiled softly when a Strokes song came over the speakers. The bar was some hole-in-the-wall dive a few blocks down from the publishing house, still adorned with St. Patrick’s Day decorations although it was halfway through May. But Ella didn’t mind it. There weren’t rowdy swarms of college students or bachelorette parties. Instead, people in their late twenties sat around in black, square-framed glasses talking in buzzing tones. They had locally-made beer and a small, empty stage with just a stool, where independent artists played on the weekends. The air was salty with fries and early summer excitement. Matthew made conversation with her as Chris and Jess went up to order the drinks. Leaning back against the ripped vinyl booth, Ella listened intently as Matthew, sat across from her in a creaky wooden chair, told her about he and Chris meeting in high school.

“...so, we weren’t in the AV club or anything, but we definitely weren’t on the football team either-”

Chris led the way back to the table with a tray of beers and a hoot of satisfaction, Jess trailing behind his friend and rolling his eyes.

Stopping mid-sentence, Matthew turned to Chris and swiped a drink. Chris sat down beside him and was almost instantly chattering away. Matthew seemed kind, quiet, subdued. A good balance to Chris’s chaotic enthusiasm. Jess slid into the booth beside Ella, shrugging off his suit jacket, flushed in the stuffy air. Their upper arms touched, making her stomach do a flip. Even though it had been years since he lived at Luke’s, Jess still somehow had an aroma of pine.

“So,” Chris began, turning to Ella with a pointed look and a grin, “what do you do, Ella?”

“Oh, um, I’m a waitress.”

“And an artist,” Jess chimed in, taking a sip from his bottle.

Ella rolled her eyes and then shot him a teasing glare. “Not professionally. But I just graduated from Southern Connecticut State last week. Hopefully I won’t be filling sandwich orders my whole life.”

“You graduated already, Doogie?” Jess asked with a pleasant, surprised chuckle.

She shrugged. “Wasn’t too big a deal. I took summer classes and stuff.”

“What’s your major?” Matthew asked.

“Studio art,” she said. “Minor in history, though.”

Jess raised his brows, but said nothing. Apparently she hadn’t gone through only outward changes. He could smell her lavender perfume as he sipped on his cheap, watery beer. It was odd to see her in Keeley’s, a bar he’d frequented since arriving in Philadelphia. The feeling was not quite deja-vu, but his worlds were certainly colliding. In the back of his mind, he wondered where her necklace was, wondered where she was living. It was easy to feel like he knew her, maybe better than anyone, but they hadn’t spoken in so long. She could be married, for all he knew. Scanning her thin hands, he found no engagement or wedding rings. But an uneasiness still sat right under his skin, eager to be resolved.

Crossing his arms, elbows on the table, Chris leaned closer into the conversation. “That’s so cool! Do you have anything lined up? Seems like you should, considering how many people tried to buy your sketches today.”

She scoffed, continuing to turn her glass anxiously. A blush warmed her cheeks, and a nervous smile tugged at her lips as she averted her eyes down to the table. “Sort of. Grad school is where I’m headed now.”

“Really?” Jess chimed in. “Where?”

Clearing her throat, Ella raked a hand through her hair. Though Jess tilted his head at her, she refused to meet his gaze. “It’s funny, actually. I’ve still got some things to work out...but UPenn.”

“No way! That’s right down the road from us!” Chris exclaimed.

Ella’s smile widened marginally, and excitement rose in her chest. “Yeah, it’s weird. I had a few I was choosing between, and Penn reached out and...I only confirmed a couple weeks ago. A few days before I got your invitation in the mail. Since I was coming down here anyway, I scheduled my interview with the Dean for tomorrow.”

“Well, congrats,” Matthew said, raising his bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling slightly silly as she toasted her water against their beers.

Before another moment had passed, Chris got a page on his beeper. Apparently, the poet who had performed at the open house had left something of his behind and would need to be let in early the next morning. Matthew and Chris began commiserating amongst themselves about the performer, who was apparently less than a joy to work with. Biting on the inside of her cheek, Ella tried to suppress her smile. Too much joy made her nervous. It meant always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d had the odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach since opening Jess’s package. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be going to a school five minutes away from where Jess worked. Too perfect. She didn’t trust it.

Beside her, Jess was trying equally hard to hold in his emotions. She would be in Philly. Right down the road. She hadn’t been right down the road from him in what felt like forever. There were still so many unknowns. But he couldn’t help the swell of his heart. What were the chances? Plastering on a smug smirk, a mask to hide his exhilaration at her news, he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So, you’re Philly bound?”

“Seems that way,” she said, nodding.

He hummed in acknowledgement, pausing to gaze at her for a moment. Freckles and Bette Davis eyes and a deep, raspy voice. So different but so familiar. She offered him a tiny smile, caught up in the moment. A swarm of pleasant butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and again, she wished they could kiss. Inside their private world, as they once had been.

“Y’know, I think it was fate,” Jess said, smirk growing. “Us both ending up here.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head slightly. “Not all that idealist bullshit again, Mariano.”

“Hey, not everything changes,” Jess shrugged, taking another sip.

“Guess not,” she said quietly, a fond sparkle in her hazel eyes. “But I’d expect nothing less from a Hemingway fetishist.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Stevie Nicks.”

Instead of retorting, Ella snatched the beer sitting before Jess and took a long sip. Setting it down in front of him again, she winked and then began to hum along to Julian Casablancas’s lyrics.

. . .

“I’m serious. I was really planning on just getting a motel,” Ella insisted.

Shushing her, a finger on his lips, Chris shook his head. He stood in the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the rusty fridge for some drunk food. Matthew was tipsy, and had already retreated to his room. Chris, however, had managed to get absolutely wasted. They’d practically dragged him up the stairs in Truncheon to the apartment above, while he babbled loudly, complaining about his boyfriend being out of town for the open house. Now, as Jess and Ella argued about her sleeping in the apartment, he offered slurred interjections and cackles off to the side.

Jess, having only drunk two beers over the course of the day, rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go to bed, man.”

“Make me, Jess,” Chris replied jovially, retrieving a box of fried chicken from behind the half-and-half. Straightening up, he shot them both a smug grin and made for the bedroom he shared with Matthew. “Have fun, kids.”

“Good luck fighting that sweater off your head,” Ella quipped, not able to stop the words before they left her mouth. Chris, for all his exuberance, was wearing deceptively stuffy clothes. A button-up with a patterned sweater over it, khakis.

Again, Chris only laughed. “She’s feisty. Let’s keep her forever.”

Smiling thinly, Ella gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss before entering the dark room and shutting the door loudly behind him. Ella winced slightly. She knew Matthew was probably already asleep in one of the room’s twin beds.

Jess ran a hand down his face, standing amid the cluttered mess of their living room.

Ella turned back to Jess, crossing her arms over her chest as an amused crease formed between her brows. “How’d you end up living with them again?”

“Long story.”

“I would imagine.”

“He’s usually not quite so intolerable, but it’s been a big day,” Jess said apologetically. “And he’s still super pissed his boyfriend had to go outta town for work.”

Ella shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I like them. But, yes, it has been a big day. And I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So, why don’t I just stay at a motel?”

Shaking his head, Jess gestured for her to follow him and led the way to his bedroom. “Yeah, right. It’s past midnight. You can just crash with me. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Are you sure? At least let me take the couch. I’ve been sleeping on one for two years, anyway.”

“At Lane’s?” Jess asked, switching on the ceiling light as they entered.

Surveying the bedroom, a smile immediately came to Ella’s lips. The living room was an absolute mess, but he’d managed to keep his own room decently clean. In the small space, he had only a queen-sized bed, pushed against the wall with the windows, and a dresser, on top of which his boombox sat. Piles of books and CDs littered the scratched wood floor, mostly in the free corners. A framed poster of Nietzche hung above his bed, and she burst out laughing when she saw it, before she could help herself.

“What?” Jess asked, brows furrowed.

She pointed to the poster, then bit down on her thumb nail to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re becoming self-aware.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Already overstaying your welcome, Stevens. The bathroom’s the first door on the left when you walk into the apartment. You can get changed, brush your teeth, whatever.”

Nodding, Ella slipped off her shoes near the door and put down her heavy shoulder bag. It only took a minute of rifling through before she found the pajamas and toothbrush she’d packed for the short trip. Since she was little, she couldn’t fall asleep before brushing her teeth first. Clutching the supplies in her arms, she turned back to Jess. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tossed it down on the bed, was unclasping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. He looked so grown up in the yellowish overhead light, bright against the dark green walls.

“This is really okay with you, Jess?” she asked, sounding shyer than he’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile. “What kind of host would I be otherwise?”

Smiling back, Ella nodded again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she left the room, Jess let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and ran a hand over his mouth. He thought back to the night she’d let him sleep over, dragged him from the freezing back seat of his old car into her warm bedroom. It was the least he could do. Truly. But anxiety squeezed his insides tightly. He tried to shake it off. Ella herself had said he didn’t need to be nervous. He changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt quickly, running his hands through his neat hair and turning it messy. When she returned, face washed and teeth brushed, he was just flicking on his bedside lamp and pulling back the blue comforter. He recognized the Bowie t-shirt she wore from some vague memory.

“No KISS shirt?” he asked.

She chuckled as she stuffed her dress and toothbrush into her bag near the door. “Oh, I never travel with that. Couldn’t bear for it to get lost.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” Jess said. “You can turn out that switch, if you want.”

Ella turned off the overhead light, left only in the glow of his nightstand lamp. Before the nausea could overtake her, she powered through the shakiness of her hands and came to sit across from him. It didn’t need to be strange. She’d just gotten her best friend back. And they could sleep in the same bed as they had so many times before.

“Since I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” she began, eyeing the half-empty pack of Marlboros on the floor by the bed, “could I maybe borrow a cigarette?”

Smirking fondly, Jess nodded, reaching down to grab the pack and the lighter. He lit hers for her as she held it between her lips, and then his own. He cracked open the window and flicked ash out into the May midnight.

“What’s got you smoking?” he asked.

She sighed through her nose in white streams. “My interview with the Dean tomorrow. I mean, I’m already in. And they contacted me because of my portfolio. But, I don’t know. Anything could happen.”

“But it won’t,” Jess said. “It’ll be fine. You’re Lily Briscoe, remember?”

A weak smile crossed her face and she gave an unconvincing nod. Then, she looked back up at him curiously. “What about you? Still smoke as much as you did in high school?”

Jess shook his head. “No. Almost never. But I may have panicked about this whole open house thing last night.”

“Looked like it went great,” she said, tapping ash out the window, sitting cross-legged.

Shrugging, Jess leaned back against the wall behind his bed. “We’ll see what that lady from the paper writes.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ella asked.

“People who could spend their money here,” Jess answered, chuckling breathily.

Waving a dismissive hand, Ella took a final drag of her cigarette. She crushed it out on the windowsill, where she saw the small, circular remnants of smokes past, before throwing butt out the window into the dumpster below. “Maybe. Seems like you’ve got a pretty decent underground following already.”

“And you call me the idealist,” he said, shaking his head and tossing out his own cigarette.

She laughed lightly, following Jess’s lead as he closed his window again and got under the covers. Soon, they faced each other with their heads against Jess’s pillows. They smelled like him. After shutting off his lamp, Jess regarded Ella in the dim light. He felt like he’d stepped through a door into a memory or a dream.

“Speaking of Truncheon, tell me about the book,” she said quietly.

“Which book?”

“Your book, Sherlock,” she teased.

He sighed, swallowing dryly. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she replied. “I mean, when did you write it? How did you write it? Did ever end up getting a computer, or-”

“Woah, Stevens,” he interrupted, snickering at her rapid-fire questions. “I started writing it when I was still in Stars Hollow.”

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Yeah. That notebook I came back for when I picked up my car? I sort of...started before I left. I took a break in California. But I started taking advantage of the library computers when I got back to New York.”

“So, it really was an On The Road thing.”

“Not quite so ambitious,” he said. “But, once I read that Stephen King book you got me...I just got started.”

“And you never told me?” she asked.

He only shrugged in response.

Ella shook her head slightly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“I wanted to surprise you with it.”

“Well, you did.” She thought she saw a flush rise to his cheeks, but couldn’t quite tell in the low light. Something indecipherable flashed across his eyes as he hesitated. She took the lead instead. “Hey Jess?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Jess rolled his eyes, really blushing now. His face went scarlet, and he uttered a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, Daria.”

“Anytime, James Dean.”

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Jess let the compliment roll off him like water and faced her earnestly. “Did you say you were still livin’ with Lane?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was just...easier than getting my own place. A smaller chunk of the rent to pay. Especially with how many classes I was taking, and it was right across the street from Luke’s. At some point, we upgraded to a futon, so it was a little easier to sleep.”

Jess snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could fall asleep in the middle of a tornado, get transported to Oz, then back to Kansas, and wouldn’t wake up the whole time.”

“Be that as it may,” she said pointedly, “it was pretty okay. But Lane and Zach are getting married in a couple weeks. It would be time to move out even if it wasn’t for grad school.”

“Lane and Zach?” Jess asked, brows furrowed in surprise. “What about that Dave guy?”

Ella sighed softly. “He went to California for college. Eventually, they broke up. And she was on and off with Zach and...I don’t know. He’s not the worst guy. And I know there’s no talking her out of it, anyway.”

“People are gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Jess agreed, thinking back to his own mother’s last wedding.

“I’ll miss her, though. Without Lane, I would probably still have majored in history. Ended up teaching at Stars Hollow High.”

“No way.”

“I’m not so sure. But just seeing Lane play with the band all the time...she looked so happy. Even though she had no money and her mom was pissed at her. I thought maybe actually trying to do what you love wasn’t such a crazy idea,” she explained, voice husky and tired, but so lively.

It made Jess smile. “That’s great, Eleanor.”

She shrugged again and cleared her throat, wincing slightly. “Ugh, Jesus. Smoking is never worth it. I don’t think I’ve smoked since...since the last time we saw each other. The morning after you left.”

His face fell. There it was. Finally. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“For what?” she asked dismissively. The past was past.

“For that night. Everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Jess.”

“Luke gave me this stupid self-help book and I read it and we kinda went to the wedding together and I got...mixed up.”

Smiling softly, Ella shifted in her spot to move a little closer to him. “I’m gonna need more details on that self-help book later.”

He uttered a self-conscious scoff.

“But, really Jess, it’s okay. I understand. And...I just...I wasn’t ready,” she said finally, struggling for her words. “After I moved out of my dad’s house...I still needed Lane. And Lorelai. And Luke. I always thought getting away would fix everything. But...I wasn’t ready for you.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I was ready for you, either.”

Breathing deeply, Ella let the moment pass between them. Forgiveness, maybe? On both sides? She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it made her feel calmer. Maybe ripping old wounds open was worth it if it meant they would finally get the chance to heal.

“I bet you started breaking hearts when you got here though. What with the starry-eyed starving artist thing you’ve got going on,” she said. She knew it was a flimsy attempt at being sly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him outright. And he was letting her sleep in his bed. That was a positive sign. But she needed to know for sure.

He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Not really. Turns out, people don’t flock to the guy with nothing but a shitty final draft and a duffel bag to his name.” Then, after a beat of silence, sirens blaring from somewhere off in the distance of the city, he spoke again. “What about you?”

The inquisitive, almost hopeful, tone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nothing extraordinary. A couple dates. Guys. Girls. Never got anything to stick.”

“Hm.” Jess paused, watching Ella watch him.

The sound of the singing crickets mixed strangely with the murmur of the city, even in the early Monday morning hours. Ella tried to remember each detail of the present moment. Lying beside Jess in Philadelphia, preparing to go to grad school, finally out from under the thumbs of her father and Stars Hollow. And in love. She decided on it finally. Nothing had changed. She loved Jess as she had for so long, even if she had never truly realized it. Maybe she had, but was too scared to admit it. She thought back to the day he took her to the Met, riding back home in his car, nothing but the dark, empty highway around them. She’d almost said it then. But she hadn’t. Even then, though, she’d been completely his. All or nothing. Do or die.

Slowly, she brought her hand out from under the covers and placed it on his cheek. She stroked his stubbly skin with her thumb. The boy who’d turned into a man all on his own, who had always been so guarded and so kind. Who gave her a bed when she was drunk and bought her charcoals on Valentine’s Day and took her to museums and wrote books for her and hung her drawings on his wall. Who she had taken to a private movie and driven to the emergency room and kissed as an Interpol song played and brought in from the cold. The give and take which had always been there, making her feel safe. Easy. Home.

Taking a moment to close his eyes, Jess quieted all the thoughts screaming in his head.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, too overwhelmed to say much of anything else. He remembered the night on the bridge when they’d decided to try together. How the nerves had made his stomach churn. But she’d taken his hand in hers. She’d made the first move. And made his whole being feel calm. She had cared for him when he couldn’t care for himself. It made him feel like a teenager again. Her touch. Her voice. Her mind.

He wound his arm around her waist and brought her closer, hugging her tightly. They were silent and comfortable. Eventually, Ella’s breathing deepened and Jess felt her muscles relax, holding her. Outside, he could see the full moon reflecting light against a clear night sky. And he felt so content he could barely shut his eyes for a second, fearful of missing anything.

#jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano oc #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls oc #jess mariano au #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore #jess mariano x original character #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character stories

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deanssunshine · 3 years

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Heated

ReaderxDean

Dean brushed his lips by yours. His heart near bursting from his chest as his mouth pressed tightly against you. You placed a hand over his jaw and shifted deeper into the kiss. Dean turned his head and let his tongue run over your bottom lip before pressing harder into your mouth and you did the same. Dean may have a hard shell but when he kissed, he kissed with passionately. Filling every movement with electricity. He stood to his feet, covering his mouth with his hand, crossing to the door. Your heart sank as he turned to face you.

“We can't...We can't do this." Your face flushs, falling. "(Y/N) we can't keep doing this."

“Why not?" You approach but he turns, desperately you place a loving hand in the middle of his back, begging him. "Dean I-"

“Don't you dare say it." He spun around quickly suddenly nose to nose with you. "Don't." There was warning in his voice.

“Why." No response. “Why?" You cry again, louder, sorrow in your voice.

“Because I can't lose you. I can't protect you if I'm like this. If I'm with you." He whispered pressing his forehead to your, his eyes closed. "I can't look out for you the same.."

“You can, Dean we'll be okay-"

“I can't." Your heart pounded.

“Dean."

“I CAN'T." He bellowed retracting again.

“I'll be alright Dean I'm not a child. Why won't you just take a chance-"

"BECAUSE I CAN'T LOSE ANYONE ANYMORE (Y/N)! I HAVE LOST EVERYTHING - AND I AM NOT GOING TO LOSE THE PERSON I CAN'T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT!" The words caught in his mouth, he stood breathlessl, facing you, he was surreal. Dean turned his attention to the floor trying to catch his breath, you let the pounding in your head calm before stepped slow, your bare feet touching the floor leaving a perfect pattering sound beneath you.

Instinctually Dean placed his hand on your thigh as you stepped into him, allowing his hand to glide up your tender body. You rest your hand on his abdomen, causing Dean's back to straighten as his chest touched yours. His head turned just in time to lay his lips on yours again. His hand holding your gentle face. Pure serenity washes over you as you feel yourself sink deeper into him. Tongues like fire. Dean pulled his face away making eye contact as his hands slide down your body, taking himself, and your jeans to the floor. His eyes were overwhelmed as he sinfully glared at the black thong set around your hips. You placed a finger under his chin to reel him up into another lustful kiss. He stumbled on the bed behind him pulling you onto his lap, your legs clutched tightly to his. You slither your fingers down to the jeans that constricted around Dean, slipping them off and onto the floor. You stood, turning seductively, letting Dean's eyes eat away at your figure and luscious ass. Barley brushing yourself on to him, your ass swirled around in sweet circles. He placed his hands around your waist, watching every movement, his hands move m around grabbing your ass, lifting your shirt and gracing your back with his lips. It sent chills down your spine, feeling his hardon through his thinly clothed boxers. A soft growl formed from his throat as his hands pulled at you hungrily. He slipped under your shirt holding tightly before impatiently ripping it over your head and onto the ground. Synchronized, you turn to face him, his lips quickly reattaching themselves to you as his hands clutch your ass.

After leaving dark marks with every lift of his lips, he peered to see you, an apologetic look in his eye. Looking past your bare breasts to stare right into your eyes. He moved at your will, climbing into the bed unable to take his attention away from you. You followed, each movement more arousing and slow than the last, allowing your body to appear almost feline like. (Y/C/E) seemed to darken the placed against your skin that the already dim light seemed to take over, emphasizing your stature. You crawled onto the bed, lowering your chest to his eye level with your ass swaying in the distance. Dean didn't know which to look at first, he kept his eyes forward waiting for your instruction. Your lips reconnected and pulled at each other with such intensity as if fighting to take each other's air. Dean stroked a hand through your hair, placing it on the back of your head. The kissing became endless as your breaths synced and your pulses matched.

You lift his shirt over his head flinging it across the wood floor before crashing your lips to his. Your loving embrace moved down his neck to his collar bones, sucking and tugging, biting, sending him into a full erotic state. You trailed down his chest as your hands ripped him free from the constraining boxer briefs, forcing a tensed sigh to escape from Dean's lips.

You flash your eyes up at him hearing the noise, watching his expression shift as your lips licked, and kissed up his shaft. Your tongue consumed the precum sitting on his tip causing him to inhale heavily. Gingerly wrapping your mouth around his cock sucking and biting, your hand below massages him. Dean shifted his hips up allowing himself deeper down your slick throat. Coming up you suck the tip, letting it smack from the suction and making a "pop" sound as it left your mouth. Dean clenched under you. You can't help but smile before kissing down him again reaching his sack and jarring aggressively, licking rapidly. His eyes shut and his mouth dropped open gently, leaning his head against the frame of the bed as he enjoyed every touch you graced him with. You placed your mouth over him again intaking him whole this time, for a handful of solid seconds before pulling away to crawl up his fit body. Before you could place yourself onto Dean he tossed you on your back, taking your breath away as he towered over you. He let himself dazzle over you, his eyes like glue, unable to peel himself away from the vision of beauty beneath him. You bat your eyes, fidgeting slightly to show off. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes ran over every inch of your naked skin. He lowered his face into you motioning for you to show your neck, letting him bite and kiss furiously. He let his fingers trace down your chest, slipping them under the silk thong and cupping his warm hand completely around your handful of a pussy. Gaining a sugary moan in response to his actions, he watched your eyebrows scrunch, a pouty pleasured look pull at your perfect lips. Dean broke from caressing you lips brushing against your skin as he breathed, looking to you as he pushed his fingers inside your swollen pussy. Dean didn't play when it came to foreplay, you knew he was good with his hands but boy there wasnt a good enough word to describe the sensation rippling up you at his touch. Your muscles tighten, your mouth dropped in an "o" shape as he pushed himself deeper inside you, getting a higher pitched moan that oozed with a begging plea. Circling repeatedly around, every now and again pushing harder and looking to you. Wanting for you to make that "o" shape you held so sensually. He lowered his mouth on to your thigh brushing his lips against you, teasing. He made his way to up your leg to your thong, clenching it with his teeth and pulling it down your nice, long, legs, dropping it out of sight.

He kissed his way back up, switching thighs as he reached your hips. A hand traced down your body and grazed your free hip bone. Upon sliding his fingers out, he forced a harsher moan from your throat leaving you breathless and feeling empty without him. You moaned again at the absence of his touch, only feeding the hunger inside Dean. He loved hearing the noises he can make come from your usually controlled body. Lifting himself, he moved face to face with you, slipping his wet fingers into your mouth, one by one. You sucked all the taste off his fingers, like the the good girl you are and when you were done he rested his forehead against yours, kissing you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he moved deeper into the kiss as you bit his bottom lip. He broke the kiss quickly catching your attention as he picked his hand up grabbing your wrist and placing it above you, doing the same with your opposite. You flutter erotically as Dean FINALLY sets himself at you entrance, and as each bit of him slipped inside you, you inhale slowly arching your back and forcing your chest to his. His eyes locked on your featured face watching you handle him, pushing his way inside your burning sex. Seeing you squirm and shift made him drool slightly. You turned your chin to your shoulder freeing you neck for Dean's anxious lips. He kisses gently this time as you wiggled beneath him. Once you've totally taken him he began pumping himself into you, just barley giving time for your tight pussy time to adjust around his cock. You shut your eyes tight with your back remaining arched, you entire body was clenched as you follow his every move. You began to move yourself up and down on his cock, riding him slowly as your body began to relax. His grasp around your wrists tightened each time you put more force in you riding. Your bodies locked and your hearts pulsed together, allowing total synchronization. Your hips brushed against his skin as you began grinding against Dean, you back now high off the bed. Taking the signal, his grip dropped from one of your wrists and slid underneath your back, locking his arm around your curves. Without any hesitation his other hand scooped your free wrist and placed your hands above her head, holding both your wrists in one grasp. Dean quickened his pace without warning making you squeal and gasp under him. He brushed his forehead against yours again, noses touching. The way your body moved made Dean tighten, deep inside you. Your face was so blushed with pink, and your eyes barley able to stay open from pleasure made him hot. Even while inside you, thinking of you cuming, envisioning the look on you face when you finishes began to push Dean to his finish.

You moan repeatedly through quick aggressive gasps for air. Hearing you moan for him, hearing your voice so desperate and needy. You pushed out a gasp again, following a multiple of high, whiney moans. He pressed his lips behind your ear, kissing and nibbling ever so seductively. You whined again shifting your body, squirming under him, he looked down to watch you curl and twist to his touch. He had total control over you. With one touch you could finish at the palm of his hand, you were wrapped around his finger, begging for him. He growled into your ear, creating goosebumps over your skin. Dean lowered himself into you harshly and you throw your head back shouting moans from your lips, uncontrollably. Your back quickly arched higher again, and your body locked up tight, your legs beginning to shake. Knowing you were weak like this for him caused Dean to feel that warm, unbearable sensation build around him, he pressed his lips to yours and you pulled away leaving your lips brushing against his as you came.

"Good girl." He cooed as your warm juices covered him. Your body looses all stability and falls into his arm that kept under you. Dean watched, near drooling as his cock slipped in and out of your dripping pussy leading him to finish. He pulled himself out, hearing a low moan. Dean lowered himself down on you body reaching your throbbing, drenched pussy. He flashed his eyes up to you before diving his face between your thighs. This sent your back arching again, his tongue lapped up all the juices you'd provided for him. His hands climbing your chest, grabbing and pinching as he let his tongue enter your raw pussy, making you moan loudly again. Dean rubbed his tongue over your clit, after digging deeper into you. Rubbing in little circles before flicking up and down his tongue balanced the two motions locked on repeat, his hands sliding in between your thighs, holding your legs open wider as he pushed deeper.

He lifted his chin to look up at you again, watching you grip the sheets you as lewdly rotate your hips around his mouth. He shook his face quickly, hearing you "oh" with air every handful of seconds. He looked up, flattening his tongue and wildly licking your clit. You can't control it, you let your mouth fall open again as your head presses deep into the pillow. You bit down on you bottom lip hard as your speed your hip rotation to quicker circles. He repeating his licks over your sweet spot, edging you carefully. Dean's large hand massaged your breast, his fingers trailing down your tense body. That was all you needed to push yourself off the edge. You gripped the sheets intensely, your knuckles white, as you came again on Dean's tongue. And happily, he licked up your juices, aggressively attaching his lips to you and sucking softly. He picked his head up to see you, sprawled out over the bed your face was utterly relaxed in pleasure and your chest moving so softly yet with such depth. He pulled himself next to you and threw himself on his back panting. "We should fight more often." He said turning to see your dazed face. You peered to him and laughed happily, this was the man you had always wanted...

#deanssunshine #formally deansapplepiegirl #smut #supernatural smut #reader x Dean #dean Winchester #18+ only #all I know is pleasure

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part ten) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part ten: Y/N is about to go on an adventure. Good thing she has her friend Jo to help her pack and her crush Dean to guide the way. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Man With The Harmonica - Ennio Morricone, Hide And Seek - Gareth Dunlop (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Wait, you’re not planning on bringing all that with you, are ya?” Y/N’s eyes leave the three pairs of boots from which she still has to choose. Not to decide what two sets to leave behind, but which to wear and which to pack. Jo stands in the doorway of her tiny room, staring at the bed, which is covered in flannels, shirts, tops, several hats, jeans, jackets, sweaters, towels, socks, matching underwear, swimwear, a makeup bag, and a toiletry bag. Even a hair iron and of course her phone charger lay amongst the collection of items that one way or another are going to have to fit into her bag.

The season is coming to an end now that September has reached its final days. It’s time to move the two-year-old horses down from the summer reservation. Bobby had asked his intern if she wanted to come along and of course she blurted out ‘yes!’ before he could even finish his sentence. She was so excited about the trail ride and started packing immediately. This is going to be quite an experience, especially for a show rider like herself who usually sticks to riding in a fenced arena. It’s a good thing that she started gathering her things early, because she has been contemplating what to bring for over an hour now. She’s the kind of girl who pays extra for exceeding the luggage weight limit on her flights, so no wonder she’s having it tough choosing what to bring.

A little helpless she looks over at Jo, who’s waiting on her response. “I was planning on bringing this, actually,” she returns, hesitatingly. “Damn… poor horse,” the blonde cowgirl comments, eyeing all her friend’s stuff. “Too much?” Y/N assumes. “Just a tad,” Jo scoffs as she walks in. “And what the hell are you bringing the entire electronics store for?” “It’s just my charger and my hair iron. I will look like birds are nesting on my head if I don’t straighten this out,” she objects, holding out the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail. “And you can’t have that with Dean around.” The ranch owner’s daughter crosses her arms in front of her chest, knowingly frowning at her friend. Y/N tilts her head and glares back, but fails to come up with a decent counter, because she’s not wrong. “Shut up,” she mutters instead. “By all means, pack it.” Jo shrugs as she turns back to the door. “But unless you tie a generator behind that horse of yours or find a cactus with a plug, you ain’t charging a damn thing.” “Wait. What?” Y/N responds, confused.

Jo sways around, her blonde braid hanging down from one shoulder. She narrows her eyes, trying to understand how her friend could be so oblivious to the fact that there won’t be any electricity where they are going. “What did my old man tell you exactly?” “That we might have to spend a couple of nights out camping,” Y/N recalls, trying to remember his exact words. “Have you ever been out camping, city girl?” Jo wonders, her tone indicating that she has figured it out. Now Y/N crosses her arms defensively. Just because she comes from a wealthy family, doesn’t mean that she has never been on a trip back to basics. “I have, as a matter of fact,” she returns confident. “Let me define ‘camping’,” Jo kicks off. “I’m talking ‘bout the sleeping-in-a-tent, no-shower-for-days, cooking-your-own-food-above-a-fire kind of camping. Not the kind where you park the luxurious double axle camper nice and close to the restaurant and the power station and get that satellite working as soon as possible so y’all can watch Netflix.”

Y/N opens her mouth to claim that she is not that kind of person, but has to admit her loss. She’s right, down to the double axle camper and the satellite TV. “So, no electricity? No shower?” she asks, intimidated by the matter, a trace of panic in her voice. “Nope,” Jo confirms, amused. “Better start prioritizing. Let me get my saddlebags, you can use those. Everything that doesn’t fit in there except for your sleeping bag, is not comin' along for the ride.” “Alright,” Y/N agrees reluctantly, nonetheless grateful for the help. “But how are you going to pack if I have your saddlebags?” “Simple: I’m not. I’m staying home,” the ranch owner’s daughter says. Astonished, the intern looks at her. Wait, her friend isn’t coming on this trail? The thought actually scares Y/N a little, because Jo has been there to guide her since she picked her up from the airport over a month ago. “Are you kidding me? Why?” “Someone has to run this joint while y’all are having fun. Usually, the stable crew guards the castle, but with Ash gone…”

Y/N drops her head, her mind going out to the former cattle worker. Ash left a week ago. Bobby gave him two weeks' notice but said he was free to go anytime. The loyal employee showed character and stayed as long as Bobby could afford to keep him. But after those fourteen days, Ash had no choice but to leave. Everyone was sad to see the quirky fellow go. The exchange of hugs between him and every member of his working family was moving to witness. “Dad offered to stay behind by himself, but he’s getting too old to work that hard,” Jo explains. “Garth and I will make sure everything runs smoothly here.” “What about me? How am I supposed to function without my conscience?” Y/N pouts. “You’ll be fine. You got Dean to hold your hand the entire way,” Jo mocks. The worried cowgirl chuckles. “That’s the whole problem now, isn’t it?” Jo gets up and intends to leave the room to get the saddlebags. She halts in the doorway, though, offering good advice. “Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “He’s your cousin. Of course you’re not going to sleep with him,” Y/N returns smartly, pulling a laugh from the blonde cowgirl. “See my point?” she returns, winking back before she leaves the room.

Thirty minutes later, Y/N is packed and ready, but sacrifices had to be made. Obviously, the hair iron and phone charger didn’t make the final cut, but neither did her shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, since she won’t be able to shower anyway. Her makeup didn’t fit into the bags either. It hurts to leave it all behind and she already feels insecure about spending days with the others wearing a blank canvas of a face. Sure she isn’t as fresh at the end of a working day as she was at the start of it, but so far she has been able to keep her hair and makeup in check. Now she won’t even have a mirror to judge how tired and ordinary she looks without a brow pencil and mascara. “You’re all set.” Jo, who is on her knees on the wooden floor fighting with the saddlebag, secures the last strap, shifts her weight back on her heels and places her hands on her narrow waistline. “I owe you one. I would have never managed alone,” Y/N says, appreciating her friend’s help. “You know you can count on me.” She shrugs it off after getting up. “I’ll lend you my raincoat and my gloves too. Never sure if you’re gonna need ’em, but if the monsoon decides to throw a curveball at ya, you’ll be thanking me.” She pops out of the room again, as excited for the intern as Y/N is herself. Jo’s bubbly personality has her smiling even after she leaves. It’s funny how it feels like they have known each other for years and yet it was only a month ago that she got into the pickup truck at the airport. One month ago, this challenge started. Her dad tries to hide the surprise in his voice every time she phones him to tell him how much she is enjoying her time here. He probably expected a plea for money. That, or a one-way ticket back to luxury and easy work.

Y/N looks at one of the pictures that she nailed to the wooden wall. It portrays her family; Mom, Dad, and her three brothers surrounding Y/N at her graduation ceremony. Sure, she misses them, but she is starting to become a part of this ranch family too. That’s how it feels anyway: accepted, wanted… even loved. Her eyes hover over the picture frames and other decorations that she used to spice up her room a little. Many of the photos show Meadow, some snapped during shows, others at home in the fields. Won belt buckles and ribbons are trophies of their success together, each memory a highlight of her partnership with the special Quarter mare. Y/N remembers when she won every single one of them.

“You’re not getting homesick, are ya?” She startles, jolted awake from her daydream, and turns her head to face her handsome supervisor. Dean leans against the doorpost, and judging by the amused expression, he has been standing there for longer than a second. Dear Lord, she got so caught in recalling past victories and happy memories, that she didn’t hear him walk up to her room. The sight of him has her lost for air, even after recovering from the scare. He stands on one leg, the other bent and crossing his back foot, resting on the nose of his boot. Fringe from his worn chaps fall down over his jeans, a dark brown Stetson to match it. Dressed in a red plaid buttoned shirt and a denim jacket over it, he looks even better than he did this morning. The handsome models in the old Marlboro commercials have nothing on him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going back anytime soon,” she responds before Dean can call her out on staring. “Besides, this is beginning to feel a lot like home, too.” The wrangler glances at the wall next to the bunk bed and lets his eyes roam over the photos, ribbons and buckles. He smiles at a goofy picture of her and her three older brothers. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments. Y/N smiles at that. “Well, I am going to be staying here for a while. Might as well make it cozy.”

He grins, his green eyes catching the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Specks of gold stand out amongst the apple green, his pupils adjusting as they flick over the captured moments. They stop when he notices a photo taken during a prize-giving ceremony. He recognizes Meadow instantly, her trademark white face is hard to miss. She stands proudly with a white and blue sash hanging from her neck, event sponsors standing next to the horse, presenting the prizes won while smiling at the camera. But the person who smiles the brightest is Y/N, who sits squarely in the saddle with a wide grin on her face and sparkles in her eyes. “You won the State Championships,” he says impressed, reading the footnote. “That’s pretty damn impressive.” Y/N lights up but stays humble. “Meadow was on fire. It was the ride of my life.” “I bet it was.” Dean watches her for a second, admiring, while she reminisces over the highlight of her riding career. Then he glances at his watch briefly. “We leave at ten. You’re all packed?”

“She is now,” Jo interrupts, holding out a rolled-up sleeping bag and neatly packed raincoat. “Gloves are in the pockets.” “Thanks, Jo.” Y/N takes them and looks over her shoulder in search of her saddlebags. Dean instantly moves in to pick them up, since she has her hands full anyway. “I got it,” he states, lifting her luggage over his shoulder. “Oh, how noble of you!” Jo teases her cousin, not at all impressed with his manors. “What are you gonna do next? Buy a white horse?” Y/N snorts, but quickly straightens her mouth into a thin line to silence herself and hide the sign of amusement. Luckily, the wrangler is too busy countering her friend, as he follows the two girls into the living room. “It’s called ‘being nice’. You should try it sometime,” Dean snarls. Before the ranch owner’s daughter pushes open the front door, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you like to hold the door for her too?” she suggests, a challenging smirk on her face. “Would you like to shut your piehole?” Dean fires back after rolling his eyes.

Y/N giggles at the bickering, and opens the door herself by pushing it with her foot. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the two are siblings. Maybe not by blood, but they spent a great deal of their childhood together in the same house, at least that’s what she understood from Jo. Over the years, the youngest Singer figured out that she might not be able to beat her older cousin when it comes down to strength and speed, but verbally she stands her ground just fine. Now is no different, because Dean might have had a comeback ready, Y/N doesn’t fail to notice the color on his cheeks. He carefully glances at her from under his hat, the cowgirl smiling back reassuringly before she descends down the stairs.

At the tack up area, the Joshua tree stands tall, offering meager shade to the horses and humans underneath its branches. It’s rush hour. Benny and Garth are readying the horses, assisted by the three riders that are coming along for the trail. Dean was against bringing people along on such a long and potentially dangerous ride, but Bobby said the tourists paid good money and were experienced, so eventually, he agreed. Eight horses are tied up to the rails around the yucca tree. Six of them will be ridden, the other two will be the group’s packhorses. Y/N spots Joplin amongst them, the feisty mare that has grown on her over the past weeks. “She’s yours for the next couple of days.” Dean points her out, heading over to the dark horse with Y/N’s baggage. “Since the two of you get along so well.”

Delighted, she faces the mare, who pushes her soft nose into the folded raincoat in her arms, sniffing up the aroma. Y/N likes the little dark horse. She is not easy, has different ideas about what the pace should be, and can get very offended when her rider tells her otherwise, but there’s something about her attitude that the intern appreciates. She’s fast, tireless from the second her rider puts a foot in the stirrup, to the second he or she gets off. The Quarter is perfect for a trail like this. It didn’t cross her mind to bring Meadow for the ride. The reining horse, which is used to train on smooth arena footing, would most likely injure herself on the uneven rocky slopes and narrow paths. The hours under saddle would be much longer than regular training too, and Y/N does not want to confront her four-legged best friend with a task that she isn’t up for. Dean swings the saddlebags over Joplin’s back and straps them to the saddle. He mounts the sleeping bag and Jo’s raincoat that he takes from the intern on top, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in the transfer. The tingling sensation lingers on the surface of her skin where he touched her, causing her to be the one who is flustered now. The wrangler carefully glances over as he secures the baggage. She feels caught, but his expression is soft and comforting; he felt it too.

“Okay, y’all! We’re goin’ in five!” Benny shouts loud enough for everyone on the square to hear with his Southern accent thick on his tongue. “If you have to use the john or forgot to pack clean undies, now would be your last chance to do so.”

Last preparations are made by the crew. Benny secures his lasso to the horn of the saddle with a leather rope strap, while Dean consults his uncle one more time before departure, the two of them looking at a map of the Superstition Mountains. Then Dean folds the map and shoves it into the inside pocket of his jacket, after which he walks over to Ted Nugent, the big brown gelding that he will be riding for the upcoming days, since his favorite buckskin is out with a tendon injury ever since that rainy morning when the cattle broke out. Ellen walks up to her nephew and hands him a paper bag which, without a doubt, contains something delicious. “Made you some pecan tassies for on the road,” she says. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my baking too much.” “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a grateful nod and puts the tassies in his saddlebag. “Be careful out there, alright?” she presses, clearly worried about the quest that lies ahead for the wranglers. “Bring them back home safely.” “I’ll take care of the bunch. I promise,” he assures comfortingly, gently pulling her into his chest after which he gives his aunt a kiss on her hair.

Ellen and Dean aren’t the only ones who exchange a few last words before the group leaves. “Okay, grasshopper. This is it,” Jo’s voice sounds from behind Y/N. She spins on her heels in between the horses to meet the ranch owner’s daughter, who folds her arms around Y/N and hugs her tight. Happily, she returns the embrace before Jo pulls back and holds her by the shoulders. “Stay away from chollas if you don’t want Joplin to turn into a two-year-old who never had a saddle on her back before. And if the horses get nervous and you hear a rattle, get the hell out of Dodge, because there’s a rattlesnake within a few feet from you. Check your–-” Y/N cuts Jo off, because she has heard this before from either her or Ellen. “I know, I know. Check my boots for spiders and scorpions before I put them on and keep the tent closed,” she fills in. “Not just to keep out insects and reptiles, but horny cowboys as well,” Jo adds. Y/N snorts. “I’ll handle him. I will miss you, though.” “I’ll miss you, too, sis,” her friend returns, smiling.

They say goodbye while Dean unties his gelding and gets on swiftly, overlooking the group from the higher point of view. “Y’all ready?” he asks the company of six. When the riders cheer, he takes the reins with one hand and pulls it gently towards him, an aid for Ted to backup and move away from the other horses. The excitement rises noticeably, comparable to what one would feel when on an aircraft just before take-off and on its way to a new destination. Some of the animals start to get restless in the thrill, Joplin included. Y/N doesn’t waste any time and pulls the safety knot in order to free the mare, then puts her left foot in the stirrup and pushes herself off the ground with her right, swinging it over the back of the black horse. “Good luck, y’all,” Bobby wishes the six men and women. “See you in a couple of days!” Jo calls out.

Y/N waves at the people staying behind, a bright smile spreading from ear to ear. Looking forward to the adventure that will come next, she straightens herself in the saddle and faces the vast landscape. She might be twenty-four, but she feels more like a seven-year-old going on a field trip. In front of the rider, a pair of alert ears belonging to Joplin point forward. Beyond that view, the promontory of the Superstition Mountains stretches out. The sun has risen from behind the ridges in the East hours ago, already warming up the valley with its strong rays.

Dean watches the young woman, consumed by a different kind of scenery as his horse follows the path. In the past few weeks, she has grown more comfortable in her role as a wrangler and a ranch hand. The daily routine is starting to become her second nature and the people she works with are her friends now. He wouldn’t have guessed it at first - and he’s quite sure she herself wouldn’t have guessed it either - but she fits in perfectly. The rich girl from upstate with a master’s degree under her belt feels at home surrounded by a bunch of country folks in the dry desert lands of the south west. Who would have thought that? Dean smiles, content; something tells him that this trip will help her blossom even more.

She could almost hear a harmonica play the theme from Once Upon A Time In The West, and she’s still waiting for tumbleweed to roll across the path. Cacti reach for the sun, their arms outstretching upward, like the giants are growing actual limbs. It’s a nice variation to the evergreens that she is used to, back in Maine. The rain that came down two weeks ago has laid a blanket of green over the dry lands; it’s amazing how nature can change in a matter of days. Jo warned her about the sun, and with good reason. Over the last month, the intern slowly but surely got used to the extreme weather circumstances that Arizona offers, but she has never been on a horse during the hottest hours of the day. It might already be late September, but the heat is blistering. She could use a shower right about now, and just the thought of not being able to take one for the next couple of days grosses her out. The temperatures weigh on the female rider, more than she thought it would, but her partner Joplin doesn’t seem to mind much. Her neck and shoulders are sweaty, but she still dribbles impatiently every now and then, eager to cover more ground.

Dean leads the group, guiding them from spring to spring. The group left the Hieroglyphic Trail about three hours ago, which ended at a small creek and a poor excuse for a waterfall. They took a break there and had a few of Ellen’s delicious pecan tassies while the horses drank. Now, they are well on their way to Willow Spring, but the trail isn’t getting any easier. As they conquer the steep slopes, the pace slows down. Y/N is amazed at how the horses are able to maneuver on the rough terrain, which consists of loose pebbles, slippery boulders, and cracked volcanic rock. One misstep could severely injure the large animals, but they seem to be aware of that. Joplin proceeds agile and fearless, almost like a bobcat, and her rider learns quickly to let her take care of the drops and jumps. She doesn’t need guidance, the mare knows the way. All Y/N has to do is sit tight and move along with her to maintain the balance.

“How y’all doing back there?” Dean is looking over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the cantle of the saddle. “We’re good!” one of the tourists assures. His name is Brad, the young guy riding next to his sister Macy and their buddy Jonathan. The head wrangler chatted a little bit with the three members of the group and they turn out to be good company. The trio is traveling across the country, enjoying a gap year from college. With Brad and Macy’s father being a rancher in Colorado, they know their way around horses. Jonathan is a little less experienced in the saddle, but he’s managing just fine. No doubt about it, though, that he’s going to be left with a serious muscle ache in the coming days. The leader of the pack shifts his eyes from them to his intern, asking her the same question silently. She nods, smiling reassuringly at her handsome supervisor, telling him in the same language that she’s doing fine. Content, Dean smiles back and winks at her before he straightens himself. It’s a good thing he’s not facing her anymore, because Y/N is sure that about a hundred butterflies hatched from their cocoons in her stomach, the feeling triggering her to take a shuddering breath. She huffs, annoyed with the response he triggered. Just look at him. He’s infuriatinglygorgeous, looking way too good on his horse, in those darn chaps, wearing that darn western hat. A part of her wants to dislike him, just for being so distracting. But she can’t be mad at him, not really. Just a glance her way with that grin and she’s a complete goner. Y/N watches as the cowboy catches up with Benny, slowing his horse down when they are side by side.

“Tell me, Chief, how are things between you and the intern goin’?” the Southerner wonders, making sure the woman in question is unable to pick up on the conversation. Dean looks aside at his best friend, amused by his curiosity. “It’s not going anywhere, really. Things are good as they are,” he claims. “Oh, c’mon, now. Did she turn you down again?” Benny guesses. Dean eyes him. “She didn’t turn me down. I just didn’t make my move.” The wrangler next to him seems to need a second to process the information. Dean Winchester didn’t make a move on a girl he likes in 0.2 seconds? That’s a new one. “Wait a minute. So you two haven’t even…?” “We’re just friends, Benny,” Dean claims, aware how terribly unconvincing it sounds the moment he pronounces the words. “Horse shit. You didn’t pass up Casey to be ‘just friends’ with the gal. You called dibs,” he reminds the head wrangler. “Besides, I see the way you look at her. You don’t look at a pal like that.”

Dean shakes his head, remembering the arrangement well. It’s not like he can deny he made that deal with the farrier, despite that it felt wrong to do so. But back then when he claimed her in order to keep his notorious friend away, he was still clueless about the affection he felt for her. The affection that steadily grew stronger to the point where he cares more about what’s best for the free young woman than what he wants for himself. “So what, Benny?” He shrugs, hoping his friend would let it go. “So what? I know it’s a little dusty here in the desert, but did you get sand in your eyes?” Benny returns, perplexed. “Look, I know she’s awesome, and yes, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, but I can’t, okay?” Dean claims. Unable to understand the math behind his choice, the broad-shouldered ranch hand throws him a look that somewhere between dirty and confused. “Why not?” “Well for starters, Bobby will kill me if he finds out, since he took me aside to specifically forbid me to pull anything. Secondly, she’ll only stay for six months--” Benny interrupts him, however. “Invalid, Chief. Bobby told you before to quit bouncing around with clients and staff and it never stopped you then. And since when is six months too short for you? You usually get bored with your lady friends after a--” The cowboy from the South stops mid-sentence and Dean can almost hear it click in his mind. Oh, boy. Benny has figured it out. Even though he tried to make up excuses in order to avoid being confronted by his best bud, there’s no way of dodging that bullet now. “Well, fuck a goat and call her Nancy! You’re in love with her,” Benny announces, shocked. Dean raises his eyebrows at the rider next to him, then scoffs and looks away, trying to act like the very idea is ridiculous. “That’s - that’s just… Y-you’re insane,” he stutters, unable to flat out deny it. Benny starts to laugh out loud, apparently very much amused with his discovery. “I can’t believe you walked straight into that love trap!” “Would you keep your voice down?” the rider next to him hushes. The farrier looks over the back of his horse at the intern, but she’s about thirty yards behind them talking to Macy, clueless what the two wranglers leading the group are discussing. Dean stays quiet for a few long seconds, trying to decide if he is ready to admit that she means so much to him. “She’s a nice girl, Benny. I don’t wanna hurt her,” he claims. “Oh, c’mon now! You’re seriously telling me you grew a conscience all of a sudden? You used to love ‘em and leave ‘em without a second thought.” Benny has crossed his wrists over the horn of his saddle, the reins loosely between his fingers, as he looks aside to catch anything that would indicate what’s going on in his best mate’s head. It’s clear that he’s astonished by the shift in his demeanor. “I’m gonna ignore the urge to ask you who you are and where my friend is,” the Southerner chuckles. “But is it really just her heart you’re scared to break?” Dean ponders, trying to make sense of the odds and ends that scatter his thoughts. Benny is not entirely wrong. It terrifies the wrangler to give in to these emotions. Is that maybe the true reason why he didn’t kiss Y/N that night under the Joshua tree? Or when she came looking for him after he had that argument with Ash? Maybe it’s a bit of both. “How long have we known each other? Fourteen, fifteen years now?” Dean recalls. “Give or take,” Benny confirms, looking down at the trail as he moves his hand over the mane of his horse in order to steer it a little wider around a boulder. “Do I seem like the kinda guy who does that? Fall for a girl? I liked the way things were, no attachments and all that,” the head wrangler continues, confused. “That’s the thing about falling in love, Chief. It happens to the best of us and always at a time when you least expect it. It hits you like lightning and you’re toast before you even got a clue why you’re feelin’ so crispy,” Benny says wisely.

The head wrangler glances at his companion sideways, reading into his words. It almost sounds like the Southerner knows what he’s talking about. “You’ve been there,” he realizes. “Oh, I’ve been there. I’ve been beyond falling in love, I loved her with my whole damn heart,” Benny acknowledges, smiling at the memory. “Her name was Andrea. We were both eighteen. She spent the summer with relatives in Louisiana and I was a lost cause from the moment I laid eyes on her. A Greek Goddess, and I ain’t exaggeratin’. She was pretty as a peach! Kind, funny as hell, too.” “Since she’s ain’t here, I reckon it didn’t end well?” Dean assumes again. “It didn’t; she went back to Greece and I moved here because everything reminded me of her at home,” his friend tells him. “You know you just proved my point, right?” the head wrangler says, a hint of triumph in his voice trying to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If love always comes to bite you in the ass, why even bother?” “‘Cause the heartache ain’t the clue, brother. What I had with Andrea was so good, so pure, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if I knew what I know now, how it would end, I would take that plunge again without a doubt in my mind.” Dean huffs, unable to believe that. “Despite that she left you?” “Fuck, yeah,” Benny states. “Better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.”

Dean is quiet now. The path narrows and he holds Ted back a little, merging behind Benny’s horse. As he lets his friend’s words sink in, he glances down the slope at the intern again. She’s several yards down the steep hill, focused on Joplin as she rides her up the trail. Her braided hair already has strands peeking out from under her hat, and he is sure if she had a mirror she would fix the mess, but he loves it. He loves it when the wind rustles her locks, or when the desert dust smudges her skin. Once again that feeling overcomes him, the feeling of a lantern being lit in the pit of his stomach, warming his body as it slowly rises through his core to his chest, where the heat lingers. It feels so good, but there’s a catch to the sensation. It comes with the emotion that creeps up on him when he lays awake at night thinking about Y/N; fear. The fear of her leaving him after her internship. The fear of her reaction if he would let her witness the scar tissue that lays thick on his soul. The fear that this love will consume him, just like the love for Mom consumed his father. The fear of failing her. But now that the true meaning of Benny’s message dawns on him, another kind surfaces. It’s a thought that he hasn’t had before, and as it pops into his head, the question reverberates louder through his mind than all the others. What if he misses his chance? What if there are only so many opportunities to win her over?

He straightens himself before she looks ahead and spots him staring, and he closes his eyes and tips his hat forward. Shit, you’ve been so worried about losing her that you forgot that in order to lose her, you have to have her first, he thinks to himself. A sigh slips from his dry mouth, reminding him how thirsty he is. He reaches for his water bottle from his saddlebag, pulls out the cap with his teeth and gulps down the water, knocking his head back as he takes a few swigs. Nope, he’s not dehydrated. In fact, he’s still having these contradicting thoughts. When he slips the bottle back where he took it from, his eyes wander down the path again, this time looking straight into hers. As he tries to decide on his next move, he holds her gaze as she smiles up at him. Dean wasted two shots already; what if it’s three strikes, you’re out? If he fucks this up, at least he tried, but if he won’t give this a try at all, he’ll beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. Either way, failure seems to be inevitable.

Then he remembers something. Something that he was taught at a very young age. He had just turned four when he took a fall off the neighbor’s Shetland pony. It was the first time he had rode alone without his mom holding the miniature horse and the naughty pony took advantage of that situation. The Shetland picked up speed and bucked once, sending him straight into the dirt. After making sure that her son was okay, he recalls his mom picking him up. “You wanna give it another go?” she asked. “No…” he said. “So that’s it? You never wanna ride again?” she questioned again, her voice gentle. Now he was quiet, not sure how to answer that. “I don’t wanna fall off,” he mumbled eventually, looking down at the ground. “Falling is a part of riding, sweety. It’s a part of life. It’s okay to fall,” she told him. “But it hurts,” he said, rubbing his scraped elbow. “And it’s scary.” “Yeah, sometimes falling can be very scary,” Mom acknowledged. “But you won’t get any better if you stop trying. You have to face what you’re scared of, to grow. You know what they say about falling?” He shook his little head, waiting for the elaboration patiently. “You have to fall off seven times before you'll become a good rider,” she says. “Seven?!” he repeats, eyes wide. “Seven,” Mom pointed out. “But you know how he becomes a great horseman?” Dean shook his head again and listened eagerly. All that he wanted was to become a horseman, so this was the time to pay attention. “A good rider becomes a great horseman when he falls seven times and gets up eight.”

The wise words always stuck with Dean as he grew older. He remembers when he was twelve and got back to his feet after his seventh crash landing, this time from a young bronc. He was a horseman now, because he got up beaming, and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Every time when life beat him down, he did the same. Sadly, Mom wasn’t there to see her son become a horseman. She was long gone by the time he reached that age, but her life lessons will never be forgotten. Life is filled with setbacks. No one walks this journey without encountering them. For some that one setback is enough reason to give up and never become good at anything, for others, it’s a way to push through. And yes, getting up and trying again is not easy. But Mom taught him to look fear in the eye and get back in the saddle anyway, because quitting will definitely not get him anywhere. Whenever he hit the ground, literally or metaphorically, he would think of that memory. Now is no different. Mom was right; he has to face what scares him in order to grow.

Dean slows down his horse, pulling the bit just enough to stop Ted, giving the horse behind him a chance to catch up. When Joplin comes alongside, he glances at the rider from under his Stetson. “Hello, Cowboy,” she greets, a small but delighted smile on her lips. Dean chuckles at that, his eyes not leaving hers. “Hey, beautiful,” he returns. The compliment brightens her eyes even more and heats up her cheeks. The trail barely allows the two of them to ride side by side, their stirrups touching occasionally. He aches for her knee to brush his like he would crave rain after a long desert ride. When the denim of her jeans does rub against him, it leaves him electrified. And then he realizes that Benny is right, too. It is better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part eleven here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester series #Dean Winchester AU #Cowboy!Dean x Reader #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural AU #spn au fanfiction #Dean x Y/N #Dean reader insert #Dean Winchester reader insert #Dean Winchester fanfic #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean angst #Dean fluff #Kate Huntington

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gettingbywithalittlehelp96 · 4 years

Text

Black Magic Woman

Written for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo

Prompt: “The best is yet to come.”

Characters: Chuck Shurley X Witch! Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester (Castiel, Rowena, Michael, and Becky Rosen mentioned)

Warnings: Language and implied smut

You can read this and my other fics on Ao3 Here

*Aesthetic Created by me*

Slamming your book shut, you sat up in her chair and looked up at the clock.

“Alright I can’t do this anymore.”

Tossing the book on the table with a loud thud you leaned forward, running your fingers through your hair with a groan.

“You can’t do what anymore?” Sam questioned with a huff.

Looking up you narrowed her eyes at the younger Winchester. With everything that had been going on lately, tempers were wearing thin.

“Relax Sammy, I was talking about reading. If I have to sit here and read one more paragraph in whatever made up gibberish this is I’m going to lose it.”

“You study witchcraft y/n. If you can learn spells you can read through the lore.”

“Spells are fun. They teach me how to hex those who displease me. Sitting in this chair for three days straight reading a thousand page book written by some old dude from the Men of Letters, sucks!”

“Okay, fine then. How about you start searching for a spell that might help us hex Chuck?” Sam asked through gritted teeth.

“Um, no. What I am going to do though is go take a shower. Then I’m going to curl up in bed and watch TV. Probably get a little drunk. Order some take out. Then tomorrow, after I sleep in until my hearts content, I will be more than willing to get back to the books.”

Flashing a smile, you turned and started to walk away, only to stop when you saw Dean had been nodding off in the chair behind you.

“At least Dean gets to sleep!” you yelled.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was just resting my eyes,” he stated nonchalantly.

Looking back at Sam, he shook his head and you walked off to your room. To say tensions were running high was actually an understatement. Sam was a wreck and Dean was more angry than usual. Cas had left, because he couldn’t put up with Dean anymore and you? You were stuck right in the middle. The thing was you weren’t even for sure you cared. Of course you obviously cared a little bit as you had become quite fond of Sam, Dean, and the little tree topper, but everyone was just so angry. They were wrecks but you were just along for the ride.

Finally safely locked away in your room, you fell back against your door and closed your eyes, taking a moment to revel in the emptiness and silence. “Me time” had been limited ever since you moved into the bunker with the boys, but the last couple months had been ridiculous and “Me time” was now a necessity.

“Hi!”

What the Fuck. Your eyes flew open, as you suddenly realized you were not alone. Not only were you not alone but you were no longer in your bedroom but someone’s house? That’s when your eyes landed on him.

“Chuck,” you greeted hesitantly.

“Y/n,” he replied with a nod. “You look lovely as ever.”

“And you look-” Trailing off, you ran your eyes up and down his short, 5”7 frame. Well you definitely couldn’t say what you were thinking. “Normal?”

“Normal? That’s what comes to your mind is normal?”

“I’m sorry! Your God in a meat suit, what am I supposed to say? It’s not like the Chuck suit screams all powerful being.”

"Okay, you know what, This is really wasn't why I brought you here."

Slowly walking towards him, you surveyed the room around you. The house was clean, and well decorated like a page of a magazine. All the supernatural memorabilia everywhere was a little strange, but overall still nice.

"Why did you bring me here Chuck? Why did you bring me to... your house?"

You didn't really think this could be Chuck's house, considering the lack of pizza boxes and empty booze bottles.

"Oh this isn't my house. It's Becky's."

You started to laugh. "Becky? Like Sam's super fan Becky?"

"Technically. But she was also my number one fan so-"

"You know I never got why you wanted to date Becky in the first place," you interrupted. "Honestly, of all the people you chose the stalker. Poor girl doesn't even realized her Ex is God."

"Y/n! Again! Not why you are here."

You shrugged in response then took a seat in a fair facing him. Making yourself comfortable.

"Y/n I have a proposition for you," he stated, leaning up against the desk. "If you can be open to it that is."

"Oh boy. A proposition? Be open to it? This sounds like it's going to be interesting."

"I need your help y/n. With the Winchesters."

"Need?" you repeated. "Or do you just want my help? I mean does God really need anyone's help."

"No but the Winchesters are like a disease. They are defiant and that give-them-hell attitude is contagious. They are however, my guilty pleasure, and I thought having someone they trust on my side, might help things go my way. The right way."

"So you are asking me to betray Sam and Dean. For you?"

"No," he replied innocently. "I mean yeah, a little. Just help show them that I'm not the bad guy here and every once in a while maybe you can help push them in the right direction."

"You aren't the bad guy here?" you asked, raising an eyebrow to taunt him. "Because it kind of seems like you are."

Dropping his head, this devilish grin spread across his lips. "You aren't sure about that though. You y/n, you are the smartest out of all of them and you haven't decided to completely hate me yet."

"I'm a woman Chuck, it's my job to be indecisive."

"You are not just a woman. You are a force of nature. Sometimes you are even a bigger pain in my ass then the boys." Walking over, he sat down in the chair across from you. "You are also way more powerful then you let on. Smarter too. That's why you haven't mentioned that you are a full blown witch. More powerful than Rowena ever imagined when she found you. In fact you already found one possible way to get rid of me."

"You think flattery will get you somewhere huh?" You started to giggle. "You are right though. I do know one possible way of getting rid of you. The boys know that's where they are heading too but they need Michael to be the one to tell them it will work first. And I do need Michael for the spell so why bother bringing it up until then."

For the longest time the two of you just sat there staring at each other.

"Let's say I do this. Let's say your plan impresses me and I agree to do this," you said sitting up, on the edge of your chair. "What will I get in return?"

"Me." he replied, sounding one hundred percent certain. "We can be partners in crime."

The proud smile he was now wearing was making it hard for you not to break and start smiling too.

"No thank you. I don't want Becky's rejects."

Sitting back you crossed your arms once again taunting him.

"Y/n I can see and hear everything. That means I know what's going on in that head of yours."

"You get off on sitting back and watching people. That's not news Chuck."

"Is that a subject you really want to get started on?" he questioned. "Because I know how much time you spend admiring my beard. How it will feel against your thighs. Or how much time you spend fantasizing about running your fingers through my hair and up and down my arms."

As he flashed you another smile, you shook your head. "Chuck do you really think offering me what I'm sure will be halfway decent sex will be enough to get me to help you and betray Sam, Dean, and Cas. As relentless and annoying as the are, they do have some strong points."

"Like I said, you are smart y/n. You might be drawn to the Winchesters but you aren't for sure, not really. You pick the side with the strongest chance of winning, and up until now that has been the Winchesters."

"Why don't you just use your God power to get me to do what you want?"

"Oh I don't ever use my powers on you. I find you to be very enticing, so I just kind of let you go. Of course measures had to be taken to keep Sam and Dean away from you. The last thing I wanted was to have to intervene just because Dean Winchester couldn't keep his hands off of you."

You pretended to think about it for a minute, but you had already made up your mind. He really did make an appealing case, and who knew, lots could change by the time everything was said and done. Maybe this was something you could use to your own advantage for a while.

Finally you let out a long sigh. "Oh boy. This is not going to end well."

"I don't know y/n I think the best is yet to come," he replied with the most devilish of smiles.

Tag List: @tas898 @natasha-cole, @shanghai88, @collinscosmicentity, @two-sidedsoul, @klinenovakwinchester, @lara-bradbury, @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name, @missihart23, @internationalmusicteacher, @sherlockedtash88, @narisjournal-blog, @itsfunnierin-enochian, @rblstrash, @princess-of-erebor1992, @sirraxa, @wontlookaway, @burningrupture, @brokencasbutt67-writer, @winchestergirl-13, @marichromatic, @notfunnystillhere, @kocswain, @apeshit7x, @spnmightkillme, @damn-it-destiel, @cyrilconnelly, @srtaprieto, @dropthepizza346, @queenofhellwithcrowley, @pinkykayley, @lauragail2007, @idabbleincrazy, @probably-writing-something, @hunterpuff, @regandm, @lucerospn1detc, @draiela, @zeddlocket, @jayyx3oxo, @deanwherescas @linki-locks11 @marshmallowfroggy @smoothdogsgirl @mewjacki

Tagging @atc74 & @poemfreak306 because I think they will like it.

#chuck shurley #chuck supernatural #god!chuck #chuck spn #chuck shurley x reader #chuck shurley x you #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #rowena #becky rosen

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waywardaardvark79 · 5 years

Text

Check Yes or No Part 6: What do I Owe Ya?

Summary: You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: language, smut

Dean looked over at the alarm clock, 5:47 AM, and eased himself from bed as quietly as possible. He padded into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, then sat at the table and pinched the bridge of his nose, "What the fuck do I do?" He thought to himself that maybe he should just tell you, get everything out in the open.

You would surely know what to do. He sat and imagined how that conversation would go, and quickly decided against it. He couldn't lose you after it had taken him this long to finally get you. He still had time, right? He needed to clear his mind. He grabbed the notepad off the counter, quickly scribbled you a note, and walked back into your bedroom to gather his clothes. He laid the note on your nightstand, and then quietly walked out of the room.

You slowly blinked open your eyes and tried to focus on the clock next to the bed, 10:33 AM. It didn't register to you at that moment that Dean's side of the bed was empty. You slowly sat up and stretched your arms above your head. "Dean." you called out. No answer. You finally noticed the note on the nightstand, and grabbed it.

A wicked thought crossed your mind, and you hopped up to go jump in the shower. You stood in front of your closet and pulled out the simple white sundress. You put on a little make up and curled your hair. You looked yourself over in the mirror one last time, grabbed your keys, and headed out the door.

You pulled up in front of the scrap yard, and shut off the engine. You looked into your rearview mirror as you applied a little lipstick. Satisfied with how you looked you got out and headed towards the large chain-link fence.

You pushed open the door, and closed it behind you. You figured since he was working on his car that he would be in the big shop in the back of the yard. The closer you got you could hear the music blaring from the open garage style doors. You leaned against the frame and simply watched for a moment.

Dean was bent over the hood of the car, hands busy with whatever part he was working on. He had shed his flannel and was just in a white t-shirt and jeans. It was a beautiful view.

You sauntered over and leaned against the driver's side door. You watched as Dean's eyes raked over your body, and you took a few steps towards him. "So what do I owe you?" you asked.

Dean looked at you for a moment, confusion settling across his face, "What?" he asked.

"You know, for fixing my car." you said as you patted the top of the car.

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up, as he lowered the hood, "Well, ma'am, it was a pretty big job. I'll have to charge you for the parts, and for the labor." he said.

You closed the gap between the two of you, "Hmmm, you see, sir, that might be a problem. I seemed to have left my purse. Perhaps there is some other way I can pay you?" you suggested.

Dean smirked, pulled a rag from his back pocket and began wiping his hands, "I'm sure we could, uh, come up with some sort of arrangement." he said. You ran one finger down his chest and stopped at the top of his jeans. "Ma'am, it would be a shame if that pretty dress you're wearin' got dirty." he said.

You took a step back, grasped the bottom of your dress, which ended right above your knees, and slowly pulled it over your head. You tossed it on the hood of the car as you took a step closer to Dean.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and then slowly trailed them down his chest before falling to your knees. You braced your hands on his thighs, and looked up at him. He was staring down at you, eyes dark with lust. You slowly ran your hands up his thighs, and came to a stop at the button of his jeans.

You watched as his tongue darted out and ran across his plump lower lip before lightly biting down on it. You unbuttoned his jeans and slowly inched the zipper down before tugging them down to rest around his thighs. You could see the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs. You looked up at him through your lashes and slowly leaned forward and began to place sloppy kisses against him through the thin material.

You hooked your fingers in the top of his briefs and slowly pulled them down. You placed your hand around the base of his cock and guided him towards your mouth, only taking in the tip and slowly swirling your tongue around it.

Dean sucked in a breath as you ran your tongue down his shaft and over his balls before sucking one into your mouth. "Fuuuuuck." You raised your hand to your mouth, spit into your palm, and placed it back around the base of his cock.

You started out with a slow up and down motion, adding a slight twist of your hand, before taking the tip back into your mouth. You slowly slid down his shaft, taking as much of him in as you could, before hollowing your cheeks and sucking back to his tip.

You continued to bob up and down on him, Dean's moans growing louder by the second. He had his fists clenched at his side. You took his hands in yours, not caring about the grease, and placed them on your head.

He quickly tangled his fingers in your hair, as you stilled your movement, allowing him to fuck into your mouth at his own pace. You opened your throat, trying your best not to gag, but the noises you made just seemed to spur him on. "Fuck baby, you take my cock so good." he said.

You moaned around him, the vibration from your mouth pulling a similar sound from him. "Fuck Y/N, I'm....gonnna..." he choked out quickening his pace. He started to pull away, but you placed your hands on his ass and pulled him deeper into your mouth.

You gagged around him as his hips stuttered and soon felt ropes of his hot cum shooting down the back of your throat. His hands loosened their grip on your hair as he slowly pulled himself from your mouth.

You rose to your feet, ran your thumb along your bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth and releasing it with a wet pop. "So, does that cover it? you asked.

For a moment Dean had forgot what you were talking about, too busy basking in the after glow. He quickly cleared his throat as he tucked himself back into his jeans, "That should do it, ma'am. " he said.

You grabbed your dress from the hood, pulled it back on, and kissed him on the cheek, "See ya when you get home." you said, before turning to walk out, not giving him the chance to reply.

Dean walked into your apartment around four that afternoon. "Babe." he called out.

"Back here!" you yelled.

The moment you left the shop earlier he decided that he was going to tell you everything that was going on. You deserved to know, and he absolutely hated lying to you. He went over everything he wanted to say all afternoon, and mentally prepared himself for every possible outcome. He found himself slowing down as he got to your door.

"Everything ok?" you called out.

He stopped in his tracks, his palms breaking out in a sweat. "No, I'm about to fuck everything up, and you are gonna hate me." he thought to himself.

He poked his head into your bedroom door to see you sitting on the bed wearing one of his old t-shirts, completely wrapped up in the show were watching. "Yeah, just needed to talk to you real quick." he said.

He watched as you patted the spot next to you on the bed, "Did something happen? No good usually comes from the hey I got to talk to you conversations." you said.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and started to speak but nothing came out. You looked up at Dean. He was sweating, and the color seemed to have drained from his face. "Hey, you feeling ok? You look kind of sick." you said.

He forced himself to take a few more steps, and sit down on the edge of your bed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Guess I just didn't enough sleep last night." he said.

You nodded, "So.....what's up?" you asked.

He sat for a moment staring at you, unable to form words. He quickly tried to memorize everything about your face. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't force the words out.

"Oh, I uh, talked to Mom and Dad this afternoon. They stopped by the shop. They are having a party for their anniversary in a month, and they were wondering if you could cater it." He turned to face you, "I know you don't usually do that, but it's still a month away, so you have plenty of time to plan. I mean, it's going to be a pretty small thing I think, mostly just friends and family." He quickly rambled all of that out, and suddenly felt guilty at just how easy it was for him to lie to you.

He wondered to himself when that had happened. He used to tell you everything, but now he felt like every time he talked to you he was feeding you another lie. He tried telling himself that he would do it when the time was right, but how could the timing be right for something like this?

"Sure, I could do that." you said.

"Great. I know they will really appreciate it. I'll call them later and tell them that you will do it." he said.

He leaned back against your head board and thought for a moment. Now he had to convince his parents to have a party for their anniversary, and to let you cater it, all because he was too much of a damn coward to tell the truth. It seemed like every time he turned the corner he was digging himself into a deeper hole that he didn't know if he was going to be able to make it out of in one piece.

#supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #reader insert #dean #spn fic #spn #smut

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a-jynx · 5 years

Text

Fleeing Love

Summary: Y/N ran in hopes to escape the hunting life that seemed to have swallowed up her family and friends. Her hideout soon discovered by a certain friend of the Winchester’s who just wants to bring the family back together, but how will he react when the youngest Winchester expresses her true feelings towards living the hunting life?

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester sister! reader; Sam and Dean make an appearance :)

Warnings: The usual from SPN, concerned friends turned to lovers, concerned family, cute and confused Cas

Notes: Another requested fic! This is perhaps the second or third time of me writing for Castiel, so I hope it turns out well! As well as, the Anon who requested sees their fic! 😁

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

How long has it been..? I couldn’t tell you. It’s felt like forever since she’s up and disappeared. Just... Left. Dean, Sam and I were sleeping, peacefully in the night only to wake and find her gone.

“Cas, buddy, you here?” Dean waved his hand in front of me, making me flinch as I snapped my eyes up, finally noticing the brothers were staring at him with confused and worried looks. “You okay, Cas?” Sam asked, setting down the book that we had been searching in for hours.

“Uh, yes. I’m fine. What were we discussing?” I hummed as Sam and Dean furrowed their brows before clearing their throats and speaking. “Well, Bobby said there were a few hunters up in Michigan that could use our help with some... Beast that’s been going around,” Sam sighed, as Dean nodded, taking a sip of his beer before adding. “None of them can figure out what it is, so we have to head down there tonight.”

“Tonight..? I thought we were going to look for signs of Y/N...” I whispered her name as they both looked to me, shock and sadness suddenly etching around their faces. “Cas, it’s been two years since Y/N left... She doesn’t want anything to do with us,” Sam whispered, the term upset not even reaching the hurt that the younger brother spoke of. Dean suddenly slammed his palms into the rickety table, causing it to sway and creak in agony. “I say good riddance! She left us like a coward would -- waited till the deepest part of the night to scramble off with nothing but a room with a cold bed and a few books!” Dean growled, scoffing as he leaned back in the old wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. “She’s probably out having the time of her life without us dragging her down, so, I say, have fun and don’t come runnin’ when somethin’ is trying to kill you.” Dean spat angrily as Sam and I stared at him, his chest rising and falling with short pants. “I’m going to get another beer.” He growled, throwing the chair back as he stalked towards the kitchen, leaving Sam and me in the tense silence.

Suddenly, Sam spoke, “Cas, buddy, I know you miss her... We all do, but Dean’s right. She left without an explanation of why or where she was going, hell, she hasn’t texted or called since she left. Maybe we should just... Just let her go.” Sam shrugged as I furrowed my brows, snarling some as I shook my head, pushing up with the help of the table. “No! We need to find her and make sure she’s not dead, or... Or kidnapped! She can’t be on her own for so long-”

“Cas. Drop it. I know you’re still hurting, so are Dean and me, but we have jobs to do. We can’t just sit around, or drive around looking for her. So, just drop it.” Sam spat, showing that I had overstepped one or two boundaries. Standing taller, I sighed, nodding before clearing my throat. “I’m... I’m truly sorry, Sam. I just want her to return here -- safe.” Sam sighed, nodding before he rose from the table, pushing in his chair with a sad glimpse. “Don’t we all.”

“Pick up, pick up, pick up -- pick up the goddamn phone!” I hissed, yanking the cell away from my ear while tugging at my hair, anxiously. I should have never left... But, it was the only way. “Hello?” A tired voice hummed through the speaker, my nerves slowly dissolving only to be wound tight once more. I gulped, my lips quivering as I sighed.

“Cas..?”

“Y/N!? Y/N, where are you -- are you hurt? Does someone have you? Let me go wake Sam and-”

“No! No, Castiel, don’t.” I growled, feeling the tears build as I rested my arms against my legs, caressing my forehead as I sighed; why did I do this again? “What? Why not, they’ll be ecstatic to hear from you.” Cas stuttered out a laugh as I frowned, furrowing my brows before humming, closing my eyes. “I just... Cas, I need help but I called you because I have nowhere else to turn. Bobby is too busy with hunters, Jody is off doing her cop-like duties, and Sam and Dean-”

“Are just as anxious as I am to have you home, Y/N.” Cas sighed. I could hear the pain in his voice. I could hear the sadness and anger mixing with the grief that seemed to melt through the phone and squirm into my heart -- it broke for him, it did, but... I had to keep them away. “Cas. I just need some help with this hunt I’m on, then it’ll go back to the way it was. No more burden, and no more continuous anxiety of watching over me.” I scoffed with a laugh, but Cas didn’t laugh, nor chuckle as he growled into the phone. “Y/N, do you really think that’s how I want it? To go back to thinking you were dead or kidnapped? Why don’t you come to the bunker, TALK to us, and we can solve the hunt together?” Cas begged. God, he was begging me to come back...

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just... Can’t. Cas, I’ll send you my location in the text, but I’ll only be here for a few more hours. You can come but come alone if I somehow think you’re coming with Sam and Dean -- I’ll be gone.” I whispered, before yanking the phone away from my ear and quickly ending the call. Clenching my phone, I quickly tossed the device away, acting as if it had burned me.

“I’m so stupid... Goddamnit, I’m so stupid!” I growled, resting my head against my wrists, thickly swallowing as I pushed myself up from my motel bed, grabbing my phone and bag before I started piling my items into it. I have to be ready...

I downed another shot before jumping at the knocking. Swallowing the gulp, I quickly moved towards the door, peeking through the peephole with a sigh, I slowly open the door. “Cas.”

“Y/N.” Cas moved quickly, developing me in his arms as I sighed, wrapping my arms around the angel’s neck with a slight squeeze. His musk making me sigh in content before I slowly moved my head from his shoulder, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you, Cas.”

“My dear, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. You look...” His voice trailed for a second, making me step back further as I sent him another soft smile; I heard him inhale sharply. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you, Cas, but... I didn’t call you for a social gathering.” I sighed, feeling my heart sink as I turned on my heel, listening to Cas close the room door before following behind me. “Right. What is it you need help with?” Cas murmured, sitting close to me as I inhaled sharply as well, feeling his fingertips scratch against my jeans. “Uh, well, there’s a hunter who's been going around and... Have you and my brothers heard anything about Michigan as of late?”

“Uh, yes actually. Sam and Dean just went up there tonight, Bobby sent them in hopes to help some hunters discover what’s been killing things around their towns,” Cas shrugged before narrowing his eyes, glancing at me. “Why do you ask?”

“I went up there last year; this has been going on for, well, forever for those poor people. None of the hunters know what’s happening, and I’ve been doing research... I don’t think it’s anything supernatural.” I grabbed my notepad, placing it in front of Cas as he studied it, his eyes darting across the page as I took a second to just... Stare at him. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t seen him in two years and it was all of a stupid scheme I had.

“So, your thinking it’s someone, not something -- Y/N?” I flinched when Cas turned towards me, my eyes snapping wide for a second before I cleared my throat and nodded. “Uh, yeah... I think someone is trying to actually frame supernatural beings.”

“Who would do anything like that? And... Who knows of supernatural beings that would cause such mayhem?” He murmured as I frowned, turning away as we both grew silent; thinking. Then, a thought hit me... I turned slowly towards Cas, who did the same, his face slowly breaking into a small smirk as I did the same.

“Hunters.”

Cas called Sam and Dean, explaining that he had gotten a lead about their case, and thankfully whenever they asked how he figured it out -- he kept me out of the picture. I stood off to the side as Cas and my brothers talked, he gave them all the information I had gathered over the two years I was gone, I couldn’t feel more than relieved that the people would finally get a normal life but... What did that leave me with?

“Okay, your brothers are heading towards Michigan with a game plan on how to stop the-” Cas paused, causing me to glance up as he furrowed his brows with concern flooding his bright blue eyes. “Hunters. Y/N, what’s wrong..? You look so... Saddened that we solved the case.” Cas frowned as I shrugged, picking at the beer label with a sigh before placing it back on the table with a scoff. “What am I anymore?”

“I... Don’t understand the question. What do you-” I growled, slamming my drink before it even touched the table, shoving myself up from it with a huff. “What am I, Castiel?! I’m not a hunter, I’m not a Winchester, I’m not some supernatural being, I’m... I’m nothing!” I screamed, not caring about the motel residents as I sighed, moving towards the queen size bed, resting my arms against my knees with a sigh. “I’m a coward. I ran the moment I caught wind of a case, and I... I thought it would be so easy. So smooth that I wouldn’t need your help, or my brothers help. So easy that I wouldn’t need anyone again, but... In the end, I needed another goddamn crutch.” I spat, caressing my forehead in my palms as I felt tears well up in my eyes.

Closing my eyes, I listened to the drag of the chair legs against the old, rugged carpet before slowly parting my eyes to see the ends of Cas’s shoes by my feet. “Y/N,” Cas started, leaning down before taking my hands away from my face as I slowly lifted it, feeling the burn of tears itch at my eyes. “You don’t need a crutch... You never did. And you’re not a coward, you’re anything but that!” Cas gazed at me with pure light and happiness developing in his eyes. “Y/N, the moment you left, everyone was broken but... I was lost.” He whispered, making me lean closer to hear him.

“I was so lost and confused about why you left, and I... I kept waiting for you to come back, but you never did. I, God, I missed you so much, Y/N. And when you called me, I felt so happy... Almost too happy.” He murmured as I furrowed my brows, feeling the tears cascade down my cheeks until his hand pressed against my cheek, wiping away the tears gently. “Y/N... I fell in love with you, and when you left me it shattered me.”

“Cas, I... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I coughed, gagging on my tears as I slipped down from the bed, falling onto my knees in front of him before looping my arms around his neck once again. His arms immediately followed my embrace, his face snuggled into the crook of my throat as I coughed on the forced back sobs. “Cas, I didn’t know what I was doing... Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing now, but I love you... I love you so much.” I whimpered into his chest as he nodded, pressing a gently and chaste kiss against my neck.

“Oh, my darling... You were fleeing, love.”

The End! :’) 💖

Holy. Crap. This was a slightly longer fic, especially with me actually writing on Tumblrs format! I usually write in Google Docs, but recently I’ve just been working on Tumblr, so yeah. Anyway, I do hope you all enjoy this sweet fic for Castiel! I’m pretty proud of this one, and I hope whoever requested it likes it as well!

F.I.T: @laceyn-1201 @waywardnewcomer @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @casiskween @great-godpotato-akane @closetspngirl @specialagentlokitty @dearsmileyman @im–an–angel–you–assbutt @destiel-trenchcoatangel @msimpala67 @thetallassgirl @invisibledevour @hobby27 @gabriels-trix @gabby913 @xiumin-girl99 @stileslove @polina-93

#Castiel x reader #Cas x reader #x reader #reader insert #Supernatural #supernatural fic #Castiel #Dean and Sam mentioned #Dean Wincheseter #Sam Winchester #Sister reader #Y/N Winchester #Requested!#Tags open #requests open

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percywinchester27 · 5 years

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Unconventional Roommates (Part-13)

Word count: 4K

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past child neglect, feels.

Series Summary: Now that his brother is at Stanford, for the first time in his life, Dean does something for himself. He takes a step towards chasing his own dreams and moves away from Lawrence to start college, which is both thrilling and scary at the same time. Only catch, in this unknown town, he is stuck with the MOST infuriating female on the planet- the roommate from hell!

A/N: Do let me know what you think of this chapter y’all! It answers another crucial question from Dean’s past.

Thanks to the sweetest @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this. I love you so much <3

Unconventional Roommates masterlist

Dean had been driving for a while now, almost all the way back home. Y/N had instructed him to keep driving till they reached the northern end of their college town, then take the sharp turn towards the beach tip. It was still another fifteen minutes and then they would reach the place she had intended them to be in.

Dean wasn't tired of driving, not at all, but he was stiff having sat through the recital. Even then, he didn't regret a single minute. If anything, he was grateful for having agreed to spend the day with Y/N. Because in the span of those few hours, he felt like he'd known more about her than in all the time he'd spent with her. In fact, his stomach was doing flips merely thinking about what he was about to do.

He gazed side-wards to see Y/N dozing against the rim of the car. She was snoring softly, a frown etched upon her brow. Did she always sleep like that? Tensed? Now that Dean knew about her past, he could guess the types of horrors she dreamed about. He shuddered as he pushed the thought away. Again, he had to control the crazy urge to bend over and kiss her forehead.

With a lot of constraint, he willed his eyes off of her and on the road ahead. What sort of temperament caused her to be so hard with some people while so soft with others? He briefly wondered if it was a dual personality thing. For all he knew, maybe she was a vigilante, saving young girls from predators at night. A image of Y/N in a catsuit flashed before his eyes. It was incomplete because he actually had no clue how fitted clothes would look on her. He tried not to think about that. Either way, she was a real life batman.

He smirked proudly at the road ahead.

The sky was turning a brilliant shade of fiery orange, the edges tinted with a unique mauve. Y/N was right, he thought, as he parked along the edge where the road ended. It was going to be a beautiful picture.

"Y/N?" He urged softly, "We're here."

She stirred and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly like she didn't know where she was.

"Dean?" She asked, confused, her voice even huskier than usual because of the sleep.

"Wake up, princess!" He couldn't help but tease her.

Her hands found her hair, which was still tightly tucked into the tiara, the pretty curls still framing her face.

"We're here," he reminded again.

Y/N looked out of the car window at the steadily lowering sun, then sat up quickly.

"Shit!" She cursed.

"What?"

"We should have gotten here sooner… there's a hike. It'll, at least, take half an hour."

Dean smiled. "There's still time. C'mon!"

She quickly jumped out of the car, forgetting about the tiara. Dean removed his jacket and slung the camera around his neck and followed her.

Two things became very obvious, very quickly. First, that Dean wasn't as fit as he gave himself the credit for. Sure, he could lift heavy things. He'd been used to it since the day he stepped into a garage, but hiking, and climbing up steep slopes was proving a lot more difficult that he would have imagined. Within fifteen minutes, Dean was heaving and had to pause to catch his breath. Dammit! Sam should never know of this.

The other thing he discovered was that, Y/N was like a gazelle or something. Her feet barely even touched the dusty earth before they were off again. It was almost like she was a wood-nymph. Light and graceful. And fast… damn, was she fast. Dean was left playing catch up in the dust.

"C'mon, old man," she laughed from a distance ahead of him. "We have to make it to the top before the sunset, ya know."

"I-I know," Dean huffed, a little mad at himself for having to tag along. So much for impressing her.

At long last they reached the top. The climbing slopes gave way to the flat land suddenly as the ferns shifted, he saw it clearly up ahead. One side of the view had high sheer cliffs of solid sandstone, rising out of the clear blue water. They weren't exactly jagged, more like they had been specifically designed to give the terrain an aesthetic appeal. The sea itself stretched seamlessly to the left, without a visible end. The red sky above cast a shadow of an unnamed color in the water below. It was ethereal.

"Wow…" Dean gasped.

"I know, right?" Y/N was proud.

He held the Camera to his eye, adjusting the dials and clicked a couple of pictures. As many as he clicked, he felt he could never capture that sort of beauty in a 4" X 8" square. Same could be said about Y/N, too.

Just like the other day, eventually he was reduced to clicking her pictures. A little voice in the back of his head recalled that he had to ask Y/N about the magazine picture from the fair which had her in it, but the deliberation was too fleeting to fully form a coherent thought.

The sun went down pretty quickly after that, but Dean was certain that he had gotten a few amazing shots of the beach and the promenade. Y/N was a genius, she knew the angle would flatter the best locations of the beach. From the vantage, he could spy a couple making out in middle of the waves. Two girls. They were holding hands, but also holding each other. Just then, one of them pushed the other into the water and then jumped in after her. It was too far away to know for sure, but they seemed to be laughing and Dean found himself laughing with them; then stopped when he realized what he was doing, quickly looking towards Y/N to see if she had noticed.

Of course she had.

"You look good when you laugh," she said, then reached out with her hand. "Let me click a picture of you. C'mon, give me the camera."

"What? No!"

He felt self conscious all of a sudden. He didn't want to get a picture clicked, but more than that, he was apprehensive about Y/N going back to see the pictures that he already had clicked. A lot of them were hers.

"You scared I'll break your precious little Nikon?" She teased.

Now he had to give it to her.

"C'mon, Romeo, don't overthink this!" It was so easy for her to say. Everything was so easy for her to say especially when he had been beating himself up for the past couple of weeks by overthinking what was between them.

He handed her the camera without another word, not knowing what to do next.

"Strike a pose," she urged, fiddling with the dial. She already knew her way around a digital camera.

"What do you think I am? A ballet dancer," Dean sulked, but struck a conventional pose, anyway, with hands crossed beneath his chest.

"Aren’t you the eye-candy," she grinned wickedly from behind the camera, clicking away madly. That was enough to disgruntle Dean. It wasn't fair that he had to capture her furtively when she could do it openly. It wasn't her fault though. She had asked, while he couldn’t even draw up the courage to say three small words.

Nevertheless, her compliment did make his cheeks feel warm. If only he could know for sure whether she was really appreciative or all her words were in jest, it would be a little easier to admit out loud how he felt for her.

The couple on the beach trailed out of the water, dragging each other by the arm.

"Here." She handed back the camera, eyes following his towards the lovers, pensive even if her lips were stretched into a smile.

For a second Dean tried to get into her head, tried to climb into her shoes and see things from her perspective. A girl who had never known a lasting and unconditional love. Being rejected right from her birth? How must that feel? Of course she longed for permanence and reassurance in love, for it to be selfless. But then again, wasn't that the whole point of love? If it wasn't selfless, was it really even love?

"C'mon," he said, staring at the now almost dark sky."We should get going."

She caught hold of his hand to stop him. "Let's wait a while." She paused then added hesitantly. "The stars look beautiful when it gets really dark. I come here alone at times, when I have a lot on my mind."

Y/N went to sit by the edge. It wasn't steep by any means, not up there, at least, and Dean followed suit, sitting by her side. He held out his hand and she took it as if it was the most natural thing. They sat in silence till the last vestiges of the hiding sun scattered to make way for a dark purple canvas of the evening sky, which was sprinkled with oh so many stars. The more he tried to see, the more stars he found.

"It's beautiful," he gasped.

"What? Haven't you seen the night sky before?" She asked.

He tried to remember the last time he'd actually done this. It was probably with Sam on the bumper of the Impala on a long lost 4th July night.

Dean shook his head. "Not in a long while."

"No girlfriends who wanted to play footsie under the sky?" She asked. Even though her tone was light, he could see that it was taking her some effort to keep it that way. She was both curious and apprehensive. That made him smirk.

He replied anyway. "Never really had the sort of time to hook-up back in Lawrence."

She slapped his shoulder. "What're you talking about? Stud like you and no action?"

He gave her a sideway glance. Y/N looked furtive and it made him laugh.

"I got action alright, but mostly just random one night stands."

"Not the type for relationships?" Apprehensive again.

Dean paused, wondering how to phrase it. "Well… it was more about how the other party wasn't the relationship type."

"I-I don't get it," she asked.

Dean sighed. "I was stuck in Lawrence, Y/N. It's a sleepy, moldy town. Nothing exciting ever happens there, except me of course." He winked and she rolled her eyes.

"I had a couple girlfriends, but they wanted more out of life than that stupid old town, and I of course, couldn't leave."

He thought back to Casey, his high-school cheerleader girlfriend, and then Lisa right after high school. One couldn't handle the fact that he would never be anything more than a mechanic and the other broke up when she went to off college. Dean didn't begrudge them their life choices. Hell, he hadn't been particularly serious about them either. Besides, it had been years ago now. After that it was mostly just flings.

"You never gave relationships a shot after that?" She asked, ever curious.

"What was the point? It would all have ended the same way. Besides I never found anyone I really liked." Up until now.

Y/N looked thoughtful, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip. It was very distracting.

"You could have ditched that town long back," she pointed out. "Sure there was Sam to think of, but you could have started over anywhere. Why just stick around?"

She had asked the one question he hoped would never come up.

He stayed quiet. At first she waited, but soon it was obvious that he wasn't going to answer.

"Sorry if I overstepped my mark or something." Y/N shifted back, removing her hand from his and drew into herself with her arms crossed in front of her. Suddenly, she looked awkward.

The last thing that he wanted was for her to withdraw like that.

"It.. it was because of our dad," he said slowly.

"Dad?" Y/N's eyes narrowed.

He'd never mentioned his dad before. And from the way even Y/N skirted around the topic, Dean was sure she had assumed his story to be something similar to hers except that his mom loved him.

It was far from the truth. His dad hadn't abandoned them. Not in the traditional way, at least.

"Dean?" she called, tentatively. "You don't have to tell me anything."

"I want to," he said finally. And he meant it. Truth was that he was tired of carrying the weight alone. There was of course Sam, but he never mentioned it. As far as Sam was concerned, his family started and ended with Dean. There was no one else for him and Dean couldn't blame Sam for it. The boy had never known a mother's love, or a father's pride. The fact that Sam's whole family was his brother was both a source of happiness and sadness to Dean.

"My mom… she died in a nursery fire," he spoke, then looked over at Y/N who was wound tight like a spring. "But you already know that part."

She nodded. Dean remembered telling her that at the fair. More than that, he remembered just how much it had affected her.

He continued. "My dad… he loved my mom a lot. A lot. And her death… he didn't take it well."

"What do you mean?"

"It was a short-circuit, Y/N," he said, hurriedly, wanting to get it all out. "The fuse didn't go off like it should have, which is why the lights burst and the room caught fire… but my dad, he was convinced that something else did it. He convinced himself that he saw a man's figure in the fire from outside the room when we barged in to get Sammy."

Her eyes were wide. "A man?"

"Yeah. It's what he told the cops. But no one believed him because the Sheriff's office confirmed that it was a case of accidental death. For a while he was quiet, but then he would go off days at a stretch trying to find the man or whatever he thought it was that killed mom. He sawed off shotguns, made salt circles and carried iron. He even taught us how to shoot. There would be no food, no electricity at times. Finally, the child services got roped in, and my dad's colleague at the garage, Rufus Turner got involved to clear his name. He tried to get dad to see sense, but as time passed, his thoughts just got crazier… the man in the room became a demon and he was convinced that Sam was cursed or something."

It was both a relief and horror to recount that. Dean hadn't spoken about it in years. In fact, he had never spoken about it to anyone at all. He and Sam carried that one dark secret with them.

"Then what happened?" Y/N's voice was barely above a whisper in the dark.

"Sam was in 5th grade when one day dad called him something particularly horrid, convinced that he was somehow demonic. By then, he'd started drinking so much that he was barely awake at all. And I…" Dean put his face in his hands. "I was scared, Y/N. I was scared that in his drunkenness, he'd hurt my brother. So, I called Rufus, and he called the cops."

"Fuck."

"Yeah… They didn't take him into custody, of course, but after a long check-up, they admitted him into a psychiatric facility. The doctor used heavy words like unresolved trauma and crap like that. He just couldn't deal with the fact that something as accidental and fateful like a random wire trip could snatch his wife away from him. It was easier to believe that there was a demonic power at work there, easier to pin all his anger on that one thing and ignore the pain. Because she had been in there to check on Sam, the rage got internally diverted towards him. I mean, he loved Sam. I knew that, but he was just convinced that the kid was going to grow up to be a monster… it was so complicated… and just so… so…" He couldn't find the words.

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. He could imagine the look in her eyes from the pressure of her fingertips.

"We used to visit him there, I more than Sam, because after a while, the treatment started working. Some days he understood that what he had convinced his mind was wrong, but on other days he would just fly into these rages… and it was impossible to control him. He passed away about a year and a half ago. The house that was his, where we had grown up became ours legally. Sam convinced me to sell it off so I could move here and pay for the college."

"That's nice of him…" She murmured, voice soft but also rough like coarse velvet.

"Yeah. Until he was there, moving away from Lawrence was out of question. We couldn't abandon him. He was the only family Sam and I had apart from each other."

For the first time in his life Dean was absolutely sure that if turned now, there would be nothing but empathy in Y/N's eyes. No pity, no disgust. There would be no aversion towards him or his dad. This was the sort of surety that only love could bring.

When he did turn, Dean was shocked. Y/N's eyes were watery. It wasn't just empathy, it was pain, distinct and raw. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. Dean had to stagger his hand against the ground to gain balance. For a split second he didn't know what to do. Y/N just hugged him tighter, her fingers digging into his muscles. She hid her face in his chest. He could feel her breath through the single layer fabric of his shirt.

Slowly, he put his hand over her back, drawing her closer. "It's okay."

She just shook his head.

Dean remembered how stoic she was while sharing her own story just this morning and how he had to control his emotions because it was too much to handle. Y/N's reaction was exactly like that. But unlike him, she wasn't holding back. She sought the comfort of his arms willingly enough.

He let her draw the comfort, allowing himself to loosen up and experience what complete acceptance feels like. It felt like this.

There was nothing more to say as they sat like that, huddled together. Y/N turned her face towards the beach after a while, breathing deeply. He didn't dip his head to catch the expression on her face even though he wanted to. If it was something she wanted him to see, she wouldn't hide it.

On his part, Dean was aware of every single movement. Her heartbeat and his own. Her unique scent, the soft sound of her breath. Everything. It felt like he was living more than he was used to.

"We should go," she sighed, reluctant.

Of course. She had to be at work. In fact, it was already late by her standards.

Carefully, Dean unfolded his arms, letting her walk out of his embrace. She didn't say a word as she climbed back down. It didn't seem as hard climbing down the trail as it had been in the evening. He followed her as quickly as he could.

Y/N didn't meet his eyes even as she climbed into the car. Dean wanted to break the silence, but he didn't know what to say. Y/N seemed lost, or rather rankled somehow. She looked deeply affected, a little agitated but also unsure. He fervently hoped that it wasn't because she regretted hugging him.

In the lift, too- which was miraculously still working- she didn't strike up a conversation. However, Dean did catch her stealing looks at him from the corner of her eyes. He watched as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside without a backward glance.

She was almost to her room, when Dean called, "Y/N!"

She turned, not quite looking at him. "Yeah?"

"Don't you wanna know what Mia told me? I made a promise that I'd tell you what it was once I got the pictures," His heart was pounding against his chest and his throat was suddenly dry.

Fuck. Was he really going to do this? Tell her how he felt?

She stared at him, less distracted than before.

He cautiously walked towards her, one step at a time. Her eyes went wider with every step, their beautiful color becoming more evident now. The tiara in her hair was almost coming off. It had skewed itself when she had thrown herself against his chest on the rock. He was close enough to touch her now.

Slowly, making his intentions perfectly clearly, Dean pushed it back into her, then let his fingers catch the loose curls that had escaped the knot. He wound it back carefully behind her ear. Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes flickered to his lips. He let his hand slide further down so the back of his fingers trailed down the side of her cheek. Y/N didn't budge. Her hand did not stop his, not even when his fingertip traced the shape of her lips. How he had dreamt of being able to do just that.

His other hand slid down her arm and found her lower back.

"She asked me to tell you how I really feel," he whispered, his hot breath fanning across her face.

Y/N closed her eyes, gravitating towards him, responding to his touch.

"And I have to tell you… I-I can't keep it in any longer. I- "

He caught a whiff of her scent and he couldn't stop himself from leaning in. His action threw them both off balance and he ended up pushing her against the side of the door, lips merely an inch away from hers.

His hand landed on the handle of her door and in an effort to regain his balance, his fingers slipped.

*Click*

The door unlocked and Y/N's eyes snapped open.

She turned in the circle of his arms and pulled the door shut.

He stepped back, completely letting go of her. When she turned back, all blood had drained from her face.

"Dean-" She reached out, scared and desperate, but he stepped farther back.

This is what it all boiled down too. She couldn't trust him. He had opened his heart out to her today, told her things that he hadn't ever uttered before, and she still couldn't fucking trust him.

"I have to get out of here," Dean said, almost gasping. He grabbed his jacket, car keys and was out before she could follow.

"Dea-"

He slammed the door behind him as hard he could.

I have trouble trusting people…

She had warned him, hadn’t she? But even after all this time? Dean had done everything he could to get her to see that he was trying his best. In the past few weeks and especially after what she had told him today, Dean had started to believe that she believed in him. Hell, he had deluded himself into thinking that she might even have feelings for him. It all came crashing down now. What was even the point of hoping for love, when he couldn't even gain her trust?

He was still an outsider, just like he had been on the day the apartment was flooded. He hadn’t been allowed in her room then. He wasn't allowed now.

Dean jammed the keys into the car, and revved the engine, whirring the car onto the road. He accelerated as fast as he could driving away from the place he had learned to call home. But was it really even home when he wasn't welcome into a part of it, more than that, when he wasn't welcome into the heart of the person who lived in it? Maybe, maybe if he could drive fast enough, he might be able to leave some some of the excruciating pain he felt behind.

************************

A/N 2: Okay, how mad are you at me for this? We have about 3 or 4 more chapters left for this series, so you’ll have the rest of your answers soon ;)

This is an AU. I spun Dean’s backstory that way because it made sense in the setting. Personally, as far as canon goes, I do think John tried his best to raise his kids the way he thought would save their lives. Agreed, he wasn’t the best dad out there, but he did love his kids even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

A/N 3: Please do consider reblogging my work and leaving feedback. Reblogging helps spread it, and also helps against the “best posts first” option tumblr has. The more the notes, the less chance of it getting buried beneath others posts. And the comments are what keep me going. I love you guys and I’ll be in forever grateful <3

The taglist for this series is CLOSED!

However, here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester fanfiction #reader x dean winchester #dean fluff #ur part 13 #child neglect tw #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes Dean #Ana writes UR #q

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supersupernaturalimagines · 5 years

Text

Without Me

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary - You’re a hunter who has been working, as well as doing other things, on and off with Dean Winchester. No one knows, and when you see Dean on the news, you can’t help but worry. Knowing he’s still hunting, you decide to try and find a case and hope he shows up. He does.

A/N - So this is my first time writing Supernatural in general, but I recently caught up with the show and wanted to try my hand at writing some of it. I hope you enjoy! If you’re curious this takes place during 2x13.

Warnings - Little language!

Digging up a grave was not easy work. Especially when said grave was in a basement. This was made even worse by the sweltering heat that seemed to gather along with the dampness of the basement. Even pinning your hair out of your face hadn’t helped much. At least the dress you had worn allowed a slight breeze on your sweat soaked skin. You stuck your shovel into the ground and sighed. A trip back to the gym was obviously needed. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you picked the shovel back up and prepared to start again when there was the sound of the doors behind you opening. A little sigh of relief left your lips, knowing exactly who it must be. “’Bout time Winchester.” You didn’t even turn around for a moment, tossing another pile of dirt. “I think I’ve found a body, and I could use an extra set of -” Turning, you caught sight of something you hadn’t seen in years. “Holy shit. Is that you, Sam?” You had known that Dean had been hunting with Sam again, but hadn’t really expected to see him.

“Y/N?” He said, sounding just as shocked as you, but there was a big grin on his face.

“Oh my God, when did you get so tall?” You asked, gazing up at him as you approached, his smile echoed on your own face. You hadn’t seen the youngest Winchester since he was eighteen, and while he definitely looked older, you could still see the young kid you knew.

“I’ve always been tall.” Sam said, shaking his head in amusement.

“You’ve probably just gotten shorter.”

It had taken a lot of concentrated effort not to look at the man next to Sam, but now you couldn’t resist anymore. Your chest felt a little less tight at the sight of him, but you couldn’t show your relief, you knew that, so as was your usual reaction to the other Winchester, you rolled your eyes. “Good to see you too, Dean.”

“How did you know we were here? And why are you in a dress?” He asked as he looked you up and down, his expression torn between amusement and intrigue.

“Saw the Impala hours ago. I’ve been in that car enough times to know what it looks like.” You moved away from Sam, now face to face with Dean, “And not all of us want to go the FBI route. I posed as a journalist and charmed my way into a copy of the police report.”

“And you decided to just dig around in some supposedly evil guy’s basement?” Dean asked, stepping closer with his arms crossed over his chest.

You shrugged. “Pretty much. Turns out it was a good thing I did too.” You held up the object, a triumphant smirk on your lips.

His eyes widened as he took it from your hands. “Is that a -”

“A fingernail. Which usually means a body.” You took the fingernail and replaced it with a shovel in his hands. “So get to digging.”

“Hey now, you can’t just show up and start bossing us -”

“I didn’t just ‘show up’ I was here first remember? Not to mention I found the first clue so you do the digging. Isn’t that what you told me last time we were on a hunt together? And if I need another reason, I’m not the one who was on the eleven o’clock news. I’m better suited to go outside.” You reminded him.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.” Sam agreed.

“Been keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Hard not to when your mug is splattered all over the place.” You replied, pinching his cheek and grinning when he swatted your hand away.

His glare would have been intimidating if you hadn’t been seeing it for the past eighteen years, but since you had, you knew how to deal with it. You had known Dean for so long, you knew exactly what he wanted. If you two had been alone, it really wouldn’t have taken much effort, but since you weren’t . . . You sighed. “I’ll get you pie.”

His eyes narrowed. “What kind?”

With a roll of your eyes you responded. “Pecan of course.”

There was silence for a moment before he spoke. “All right,” he tossed you the keys to a hotel room. “Be back in an hour.”

You started to walk away, pleased with this exchange, when he called after you.

“The pie better be there! Hot and fresh!”

As you flipped him off, you heard Sam snort. “Really, dude? That’s all it took?”

“Shut-up.” You heard him reply.

_____

Exactly one hour later, you heard the door open as you fiddled around with their police scanner. “Pie’s on the counter.” You said without looking up.

A pair of arms slipped around your waist from behind and a soft smile made its way to your lips. “Well, I sure as hell hope this is Dean, or there is some awesome room service.” You murmured as his lips found the tender skin of your neck.

“You could have called when you saw Baby you know.” He told you. “Could’ve been doing this hours ago.”

Your eyes closed in pleasure as his lips trailed lower. “What’s the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to see if I could get you to do my dirty work as usual.”

Dean spun the hotel chair around with a whirl so you were facing him. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that work.”

“I already did.” His face was so close you could see every eyelash framing those stunning green eyes. You couldn’t let that effect you though. This game was much too fun for that. “I told you it’s on the counter.”

A smirk formed on his face, a corner of his lips lifting. “I don’t want pie.” Dean replied. His hands slid up your thighs in a sensual motion, that, combined with those eyes, had warmth coiling in your belly.

Not to be outdone, you feigned innocence, looking up at him under your lashes, a move you had seen bring him to his knees before. “What do you want then?”

Every movement he made, you followed with your eyes, so there was no way you could miss the way he brought his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it with his teeth as he looked you over, much more thoroughly than earlier. “Take a wild guess.” Dean replied, with a sudden move, he had you in the air, your legs wrapping around his waist to help keep your balance.

“I think I’m getting an idea.” You said, smirking back at him as you tugged on the collar of his brown leather jacket. “It’s been so long I might need a demonstration.”

“I’ll demonstrate all you want sweetheart.” Dean said, as he started carrying you to one of the beds, “but we both know it’s your fault it’s been this long.” Gently, he laid you down on the bed as he started to remove his jacket and button up.

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your family stuff any more than I already have before.” You told him, still watching his every move with eager eyes.

“Then why are you here now?” He raised his eyebrows, discarding his clothing and revealing his bare chest, a sight you hadn’t seen in way too long you decided then and there.

A slight blush flooded your cheeks, not because of what you two were about to docv , but because of his words. “Does it matter?” You replied, trying to change the subject as you tugged him into bed, a tactic that often worked.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case this time. He sat up, his knees locked on either side of yours. “Wait a minute . . . Were you worried about me?” He asked, not even attempting to hide his pleased smirk.

You glared, sitting up and shoving his shoulders. “Why the hell would you think that?”

The smirk remained. “You did say something about my mug being all over the place.”

There was no response that wouldn’t leave Dean happier than before, so you thought it was best to try and divert the subject. “Oh, like you’ve never been worried about me before when you know full well -” You grabbed a hold of his biceps and pushed him down on the bed. You straddled him, taking your time and letting your fingers travel up his chest, tracing the hard lines you knew so well. After a few seconds of just enjoying the view, you leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I can take care of myself.”

Dean tried to act like your actions didn’t effect him, but you saw the darkening of his eyes, felt his hands traveling under that dress and up your thighs. “I can take care of myself too, Y/N.” His tone sincere as he gave your thighs a gentle squeeze. “I just enjoy it more when you do it.” He added, the serious tone replaced now with a playful one.

“God, you’re lucky you’re attractive, Winchester.” You mumbled, leaning down to meet his lips in a kiss when he stopped you. “What?”

“You got any quarters?”

Your brows knit together at his question. “Why would you need -” Your eyes caught the box beside the bed. “Oh.”

“Just trust me.” Dean replied.

You sighed, “in my purse.”

He looked way too excited as he slid out from underneath you, hurrying over to your purse.

Yep, it was a good thing Dean was so good looking, or else he probably would have driven you crazy by now.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #supernatural imagine

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arya3601 · 5 years

Text

Loose Ends can go Nowhere

Castiel gets hurt on a hunt and Dean doesn't seem happy about it.

Read it on AO3!

Dean was upset.

Dean was upset pretty often, to be honest, but Cas had learned the differences. Sometimes “upset” was really just annoyance, caused by Sam’s hair in the bathroom drain again or Cas leaving the milk on the counter. Sometimes “upset” was for fun, fake huffs and the too-straight-to-be-natural lips Dean got when he wouldn’t let himself laugh at Kevin or Charlie’s bad jokes again. Cas had learned that “upset” was a scale, tipping one way or another with any small shift in the bunker that Dean couldn’t control.

But this wasn’t the usual gone-in-an-hour “upset”.

Dean was upset. And it was Castiel’s fault.

Castiel and his bleeding shoulder, the blood dripping down and tickling his arm all the way. The ghost had caught him by surprise and threw him against a wall, but that wasn’t anything new. That had happened to all of them, more often than any of them wanted to admit. But the huge decorative metal sunflower on the wall, well, that wasn’t something every house had.

He wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, if one of the large petals had been bent previously or if he had hit it at just the right angle, but whatever it had been, it hadn’t gone well for him. Cas had thought he had just hit a mantle or something at first, and he clenched his jaw against the sound trying to escape. It was like feeling a hot punch to his shoulder, shock blunting the sharp pain of sliced flesh. It wasn’t until he felt the blood trickling down his arm that he realized he had been stabbed.

Stabbed by a fucking sunflower. Once Dean calmed down, Cas was never going to hear the end of this.

Dean and Sam had dealt with the ghost pretty quickly after that, Dean looking more panicked than usual. They had patched him up enough to drive back to the bunker, not too far away, and Dean told him he’d fix him up better when they got home.

With how upset Dean was, Cas wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

He trailed after them as they got out of the Impala, carefully avoiding the right sides of door frames and hallways. Charlie’s voice was echoing through the bunker, yelling from what sounded like the war room, probably something at Kevin about a game or show again.

Dean and Sam made eye contact and nodded, looking tired.

“Hey, I’ll see you guys in a bit, I’m going to shower and probably nap before braving that,” Sam waved his hand tiredly in the direction of the noise.

“Yeah, us too.” Dean replied, already splitting off to the right. “See you later.” He said shortly, barely raising his voice enough to be heard behind him.

Cas sighed, watching him go for a moment. Hopefully he wasn’t angry-upset. “We’ll see you later, Sam.” He nodded to him and followed Dean down the hall to their bedroom.

Their bedroom.

God that sounded nice. It hadn’t been theirs for too long, but Cas was already too in love with the idea to let himself think it was anything but permanent.

Even now, as Dean stomped his way into their room and turned to look at him with Greek fire in his eyes, Cas wanted this to be his forever. Sharing a room, sharing breaths, sharing moments stolen in the day, here and there.

Maybe not this, exactly, he could do without the flaring nostrils and the crossed arms, but he’d take every second he could get.

“Sit down.” Dean said, grabbing his first aid kit. “Coat off, shirt off.”

Cas sighed and slowly dropped his trenchcoat, the material sticking strangely to his bloody arm. He used his good arm to loosen his tie, pulling it just enough to slip over his head. He reached for his shirt buttons, but his hurt shoulder burned in protest, the makeshift gauze and tape pulling on the skin around it. He made a wounded sound, then grimaced at himself for it. He had been hurt far worse before, he should be able to handle this.

“Hold on,” Dean said, soft for the first time since they got to the bunker, stepping forward and slowly lowering Cas’ hands. He undid Cas’ shirt buttons one at a time, gently, as if he thought going too fast would worsen the injury. “How are you feeling?” He asked, still feather-soft, as he lowered Cas’ shirt off his shoulders and let it drop, leaving Cas in only his undershirt.

“I’ll live,” Cas replied quietly, with some kind of grim humor he only found when he was bleeding on someone’s carpet. It just usually wasn’t his own carpet. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, feeling like a child approaching a street cat. He might be a little afraid, and it might hiss and bite, but, man, did it look soft and tempting.

“What?” Dean seemed genuinely confused as he rested his hands on Cas’ hips, gently rubbing his thumbs on his hip bones. “Why are you sorry?”

Cas shrugged the one shoulder it didn’t hurt to move. He couldn’t look Dean in the face. He felt himself detach from the situation, emotionally withdrawing behind makeshift barricades. For how short of a time he’d been human, he’d figured out a lot about himself. He didn’t like cold feet. He loved hot showers. Chocolate was worth fighting over.

And he couldn’t stand anger.

He didn’t know why, and he hadn’t tried too hard to figure out the cause. Fighting sent him out of the room, in search of a calm corner to hide out it. Raised voices made him feel like a child, like the child he had never been, flinching and shrinking away from the anger.

Maybe it was just because it was usually Sam and Dean, people he loved like family.

Maybe he’d seen his own family torn apart too badly to be patchworked back together again and knew how that felt. Knew how it destroyed everyone involved.

Maybe he couldn’t have that happen again, just as he found a family after all this time.

He didn’t know why. But he couldn’t look Dean in the eyes.

“Hey,” Dean gently nudged his nose against Cas’ cheek. “Hey, Angel. I’m not mad at you.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at the gun on the wall behind Dean’s left ear.

Dean sighed quietly and nudged him again. “I’m really not. I mean, yeah, be more careful next time, you asshole, but it’s not your fault you’re hurt.”

“Okay,” Cas felt himself slowly coming back into the conversation, cautiously looking somewhere near Dean’s eyes. “But you are mad.” He flinched a little at himself for saying it, but he knew it was true. He’d rather get it out there than have it simmering underneath them until it boiled over and burned them both.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. He stepped back and started peeling Cas’ undershirt up, prodding him to raise his arms. “I’m mad at myself.” He turned away, dropping the bloody shirt on the pile with the rest of the clothes. “Get on the bed.”

Cas slowly walked over and sat on the bed, feet flat on the floor and back straight and he sank into the memory foam. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

“Mmm,” Dean seemed to be searching for words, or actively running from them, as he walked around the bed. Castiel felt the mattress dip ever so slightly as Dean kneeled behind him, peeling off the tape from the temporary bandage. He hissed through his teeth, but said, “It’s not too bad. You’re gonna feel it for a while, that’s for sure, but you don’t need surgery or anything.”

“Dean,” Cas closed his eyes at the prodding, clenching his fists. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

Dean sighed again, and Cas felt the ice cube sting of disinfectant. “I’m a piece of shit, Cas.”

“What?” Cas screwed up his face, both at the sensation and the words. “No, you’re not. You’re a good man.”

“Nah,” Dean’s tone was almost casual, but too light, like a helium balloon waiting for his string to be cut. “I’m not.”

“You’re…” Cas felt himself grasp for words. Kind. Brave. Loving. Strong. Thoughtful. “You’re great.” Damn it. He would punch himself in the face if he thought it wouldn’t undo all the work Dean was putting into his shoulder right now.

“Well, I don’t feel very great.” Cas felt a pressure on the back of his good shoulder and Dean’s hair brushing against his skin. “You’re hurt, Cas.” He could feel Dean’s breath against his back, and suppressed a shiver. “I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect you.”

“You can’t protect me all the time, Dean.”

“I can damn sure try, Angel.”

Cas sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of how to convince Dean he shouldn’t be mad at himself. Any route would just lead back here, it seemed, like the innumerable dead ends of a labyrinth. So what should he say? What could he say?

He felt Dean lean back and start fiddling with the first aid kit again, probably getting ready to stitch him up. He hated stitches, they hurt for days. He never wanted to do anything except sit and let himself heal, trying to avoid the pulling pinch of moving them. It was like when Charlie got a cold, ordering them all around and complaining she couldn’t do anything because…

“You can’t argue with me.” Cas said, opening his eyes and looking at the TV in front of him.

“Uh, pretty sure I can, Cas?” Dean sounded confused.

“No you can’t. I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick, Cas, you’re injured.” Dean rustled around behind him again.

“Same thing, Dean.” Cas insisted stubbornly. “You have to let me win. Because I’m sick. Or injured, I suppose.”

Dean snorted, “Oh, is that how it works? Someone’s been spending too much time with Charlie.” Cas felt a hand on his arm, a support and a warning. “Gonna start stitching you up now.” Dean said quietly.

“Yes, that is how it works,” Cas gritted his teeth against the pain, still unwilling to lose the argument. “You can’t argue with me.”

“Okay, Angel.” Dean laughed, still carefully pulling thread. “I won’t argue.”

“Good.” Cas sighed as he felt the thread being cut, slumping slightly in relief. “You’re great. No arguments.”

Dean laughed again, standing and carrying all the supplies to the desk. “Fine. But only because you’re ‘sick’.” He leaned his hip against the desk, crossing his arms with a smile. “What now?”

Cas squinted at him.

Dean rolled his eyes a little, but he was still smiling. “You’re sick, Cas. You get to decide what we do now. That’s how it works.”

“Oh,” Cas stared at Dean for a second, momentarily thrown off track by how great his arms looked in this lighting. He blinked at his own thoughts, shaking his head. “I think I need sleep.” He looked up again, making eye contact. “Can you stay here with me?”

Dean laughed softly. He walked over to the bed, leaned down and cupped Castiel’s jaw, gently lifting it up, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “That’s not how you ask, Feathers.” He said. Cas found himself unable to respond, too engrossed in watching the crinkles around Dean’s eyes and feeling Dean’s breath on his lips. “If you’re sick, you insist. You demand.” Dean kissed him again, thumb rubbing gently on Cas’ cheekbone. “You don’t ask nicely.”

“Then,” Cas mumbled, eyes falling closed. “Stay with me. Let’s nap together.” He drew away a little bit, wrinkling his nose. “But wash your hands first, they smell like alcohol and blood.”

Dean laughed again, stealing a final kiss before standing straight. “Alright, Cas, I’ll go wash my hands and then I’ll be back. Do you want anything while I’m at it, Mr. Patient?” He raised his eyebrows in joking question.

“No,” Cas started pulling back the covers as best he could with one hand, ready to sleep as soon as he could. “Just hurry back.”

Dean winked as he reached the door. “Always, Angel.”

#deancas #Destiel #supernatural #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #human!Cas #bunker fic #fluffy #fluffy fluff thats all i write #i love me some cotton candy #tooth rotting fluff #whelvenwings

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sambukasam · 6 years

Text

Wasted Talent

Summary: Dean learns that he could have a promising career as a makeup artist if the world would ever stop needing to be saved

Square Filled: Make Up

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: no warnings today fellas

Word Count: 1981

Created for @spngenrebingo

Genre Bingo Masterlist ↔︎ Normal Masterlist

I’m starting to do tag lists! Want in? Check out the list of things I’ll tag for. Once you decide whatever list(s) you want to join, send me an ask!

"Deeean," you dragged out as you entered the room with your good hand behind your back.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking up from the table he'd been staring at for the what felt like hours. He rocked his chair onto its back two legs and you stifled a laugh when he almost tipped it too far back. "Oh ha ha!" He said sarcastically at the amused expression on your face poorly covered up giggle.

There wasn't much to be done in the bunker that was fun, per se. Usually, it wasn't so bad when you weren't stuck there for too long. But times like now where you had to stay cooped up, it felt like a form of torture.

Neither of you was up for a hunt, your last one had gone sideways and lead to you both being a little worse for wear. You were left with a fractured elbow which had you useless, and Dean had messed up one of his legs and was stuck hobbling around on crutches, much to his chagrin. Sam had managed to get off much lighter, with a few scratches and bruises here and there. The worst that had happened to him was his hair getting ruffled out of place.

"What you got there?" He asked when he noticed how you kept your good hand behind your back. Instead of trying to prolong the inevitable, you sheepishly brought your hand forward and showed him your make up bag you had brought out from your room. Dean was familiar with the bag, and he cocked an eyebrow curiously but stayed quiet to let you sell your pitch.

"We're both bored," you started off bluntly, and he nodded at your statement. "So I was thinking... maybe we could mess around and do each other's make up?" You rushed the last part out and framed it more as a question but you knew he understood what you said.

There was a moment of silence where all you got was a blank stare before he nodded and put his chair back on all four legs. You grinned and went to the seat beside him, laying everything out on the table. You stopped when he grabbed your wrist with one of his hands. "Hold up, I've got a condition."

You sighed and turned to see what he was going to say. You weren't sure how he'd feel about the idea of him getting his make up done, you couldn't really picture him having a big problem with it, but you were still a little nervous that he wouldn't be okay with it.

"You aren't allowed get upset when I do a better job than you."

"In your dreams Winchester," you laughed and then you moved your chair sideways to face him. You got him to stand up and moved his chair for him, ignoring his grumbling over how he could have done it himself. "Alright, how are we doing this? I can do yours first, and then talk you through it so you know what you're doing when it's your turn?"

"Hell no, I know exactly what I'm doing," he scoffed, reaching for a pot of blush. "Is this the one you put all over?"

"Dean, babe-" you had to stop talking to laugh at the look of confusion on his face.

He held a hand up. "Wait, don't help me I'm a pro!" He popped the tub open and rubbed his finger in it, completely ignoring the brushes you laid out. He leaned forward and slowly drew two line on each cheek.

"Did you just give me whiskers?"

"It's battle paint!" He grunted, and then looked down at his fingers. "How do I get this crap off my fingers?"

You handed him a makeup wipe. "This is why most people use brushes to put it on."

"Well I'm not like most people, I'm a make up pioneer." He took a second to look at all the different products on the table before grabbing an eyeshadow palette for smokey eyes. He stared at your face for a second before dipping his fingers into a shade that was around the same as your eyebrow colour. You went wide-eyed when he started immediately rubbing it into your eyebrows, feeling his fingers give you a unibrow. When he was done he looked back down at the mess on his fingers. "Maybe I will start using those brushes."

"What do you wanna do next?"

He sat up straight and examined your face, turning it this way and that, making you roll your eyes. "Mascara!"

Now you were starting to panic. He hadn't exactly been the gentlest while putting on your unibrow and whiskers, you couldn't picture him being much better with a mascara wand. "I can do the mascara myself!" You said quickly.

"You have one arm, and I am a gentleman. Besides, how hard could it be?"

Famous last words.

Cut to three minutes later with you attempting to fish the stray bits of mascara off of your eyeball while Dean complained about how you "cried your war paint off".

"Now I'll have to redo it," he complained, crossing his arms while he glared at you.

"Maybe if you didn't nearly take my eye out I wouldn't have cried!"

"Your eye jumped on the brush!" He said indignantly, but he started chuckling when he saw the stink eye you shot him. "We can ditch the mascara this time. It clashed with the overall look anyway."

"Glad to hear," you muttered, giving up on your eye. You figured you'd gotten all that you could off of it and that the rest would come out on its own.

"How is it that even with all that black and pink crap running all over your face, I still want to bang you on this table?"

"Woah, I'm really not in the mood to be traumatised tonight," Sam interrupted when he walked into the room. He did a double take when he saw you and you saluted him sarcastically. "Woah, Y/N, looking real, uh-"

"Smoking hot?" Dean offered. "That'd be all thanks to my handy work. Now hold still while I decorate your forehead."

You didn't even try to argue with him, letting him grab a red lipstick and draw what felt suspiciously phallic-like on your face.

"It's a self-portrait," Dean said with a wide grin on his face and you knew it wasn't the right time but you took a second to admire the beauty that was Dean Winchester smiling. It was a miracle after everything that man had been through that he still remembered how to smile, but that's what made his smiles all the more special. There was something about them, about the stories behind them that made you appreciate them more than you ever thought you could appreciate a smile. "What are you staring at?" He asked, and it sounded almost self-conscious.

You rested your cheek in your good hand and shook your head at him. "Just thinking about how much I love your smile," you smiled dopily. Sam made gagging noises in the background but you ignored it, focusing on the slight blush that Dean grew and the way he looked down at his hands before grinning broadly back up at you.

"Shut up," he said and then he was tugging your hand out from where it was propping your head up. "You're ruining my hard work. What else is there left to do?"

"Well, you haven't exactly put any lipstick on my lips yet..."

He snapped his fingers and smiled gratefully at you. "I knew something wasn't right."

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index fingers, moving your face closer to the light and then he was uncapping the lipstick he'd used on your forehead again.

"Hold still," he warned.

You went to nod but froze when he mock scowled at you and tutted. You couldn't tell if he'd done a good job or not, but it hadn't felt like he'd missed your lips too badly by the time he was finished.

"I think I've been wasting my time on hunting, I obviously should have opened my own beauty salon."

"It's never too late to chase your dreams, dude," Sam spoke up from across the table.

Dean rubbed his hands together and gave you a quick once-over before nodding to himself. "Okay, I think I'm done."

"My turn to do you?"

"Oh sweetheart, you can do me whenever you want," he winked, and Sam's gagging intensified.

You decided to do him up the way you did whenever you had a date with him, purely because you weren't sure if you'd ever get the chance to again and you were curious what he'd look like with a full face on.

It was considerably less traumatic this time, aside from the occasional dirty jokes from Dean. You treated it like a tutorial you'd find on YouTube, telling Sam everything you were doing and why.

To your surprise, he actually acted like he cared and would ask questions at the right time. Dean's eyes were trained on your face the entire time so talking to Sam was a nice distraction from the urge to make out with Dean in the middle of the library.

Dean tried to protest you putting fake eyelashes on him, but a whispered promise of what you'd let him do to you when you were alone had his eyes widening and him hastily changing his mind. It was hard to manage the glue when you only really had one hand, and you wondered what would happen if you accidentally glued the notorious hunter's eyelid shut permanently, even though you knew the glue wasn't that strong.

When you were done you let out a low whistle admiring your handiwork. "You look so pretty!" You squealed, clapping your hands together.

Sam had left near the end to grab a small mirror for you both to see how you looked, and you couldn't tell who's face he found funnier when he got back. You knew you looked like a mess, the tear tracks from the attempted mascara incident and the dick on your forehead let you know that. He threw a towel over the mirror so you couldn't peek and held it up on the table in front of you both.

"Are you both looking at once?" Sam asked. You and Dean shrugged at each other before nodding at Sam. "Okay, three, two, one..."

You gasped when you saw just how bad your face was. There was a huge dick across your forehead, over what at first glance was a unibrow but on closer inspection looked like what you imagined were supposed to be drops of cum. There was a mixed trail of pink blush and black mascara going down one cheek, extra thick along your jawline where it had gathered before dripping off. You bit back a laugh, looking completely ridiculous. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted how he'd actually done a pretty good job on your lipstick.

Dean looked like he was pretty happy with his. "Damn I'm hot!" When he turned to you he bit back a laugh. "I feel kinda bad for not taking it as seriously as you did."

"It's fine," you dismissed. "I was gonna fuck your face up as well but I just really wanted to see you ready for a night out."

"Who did a better job?" Dean asked Sam, catching you off-guard.

"This wasn't a competition dumbass!"

"Spoken like a true loser," he said before looking expectantly at Sam. You could see him deliberating for a second, probably trying to decide he wanted to annoy more by making them the loser.

"There are no winner's here," he said solemnly before shaking his head and laughing at Dean's annoyed face. "Kidding, kidding! There is a winner. And it's me. My prize is getting to keep my dignity."

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