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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months

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Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

��Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

#dean winchester x you #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam x sister!reader #supernatural sam #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #supernatural

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jordanmoreau · 6 months

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I have you / Dean Winchester

→ dean winchester x reader, 1,4k words / fem reader

; in which certain feelings are made known, tongue tied and flushed cheeks♡

You watch absentmindedly from across the diner as Dean leans casually against the counter, a grin plastered across his face as he chats to the female server.

His T-shirt rides up ever so slightly as he leans forward and you cough awkwardly, shifting in your seat to face away fro him, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as if to climb further inside it. Sam, who’s sitting opposite you with his nose buried in his notes, peers up to gives you a knowing look.

“He’s just being Dean,” he says calmly, nodding his head in his brothers direction. You freeze for a second, feeling caught. Sam doesn’t take his eyes off you for a prolonged second, wondering if he should reassure you some more but decides against it. He can tell you feel uncomfortable and so he moves his gaze from you.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate Sam’s attempt at comforting you. He had noticed your affections for Dean a while ago, watching the way you’d lean into him for comfort on every case or how you’d laugh at every stupid corny joke. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. It didn’t do you any good to keep pining after him.

It’s then that Dean returns to the table, a tiny piece of paper gripped in his hand. Your stomach does a painful flip when you notice it. The servers number? You look away again, focusing on the parking lot outside. Dean however takes notice of this, sliding into the seat next to Sam. Sam didn’t bother looking up at his brother and simply slid over a handful of pages, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Dean instead turned his attention to you, mirroring you as he tries to figure out what you’re so intently looking at.

“What’re we looking at?” he says, startling you. He’s leant across the table, propped up by his elbows as he looks toward the parking lot and then back at you. He gives you a closed lipped smile when you don’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne. It overwhelms you a little and you sit back in your chair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he too sits back.

“Just thinking,” you reassure quietly, giving him your best “I'm okay” expression. It feels like a grimace. He searches your face for a moment and then nods, apparently accepting your words at face value.

—

The next evening, you find yourselves holed up in a motel, two rooms between three of you. You try not to look too alarmed at this at the front desk, the bags slung over your shoulders suddenly feeling like dead weights.

“Sam, can I bunk with you,” you ask instantly as you’re leaving the reception kiosk, hoping he can detect the pleading in your voice. Dean frowns at you, scratching his cheek with the back of his hand. Sam begins to agree when his brother interjects, stepping closer to you.

“What about me?” he pouts. Your heart pangs and you try to appear nonchalant, shrugging. He frowns again and Sam, who’s trailing behind you both, chucks the second set of keys at him. "Here,".

Dean catches it with his spare hand and mutters something you don't quite catch. Sam hums in agreement.

You decide to walk in front of the pair, needing to get in bed as soon as possible. Your whole body felt heavy and your feet dragged as you made your way down the hallway.

Dean follows you closely. It’s then that you recognize the right door number and plop your bags down on the door mat finally, groaning as your shoulder twinges.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his hand coming up to rest on your arm gently. You flinch for a second, not realising he was that close behind.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your arm felt hot under his touch. He rounds you now, standing opposite you at the doorway. He’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, lips pursed.

“Are you?” you ask him awkwardly. His stoic exterior breaks at that and he blinks at you, almost like he’s offended at the question.

“Am I okay?” he scoffs. He doesn’t answer you, unlocking the door instead. With ease, Dean pushes it open and gestures inside. You now blink back at him, not moving. "Ladies first," he deadpans.

“I’m sharing with Sam,” you say lamely. Dean ignores you, hiking your bags over his shoulder and entering the room. You glance back over your shoulder and see Sam entering the room on the far left. He turns back to close the door and shoots you an apologetic look. Traitor, you think.

You sigh, admitting defeat and walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. It’s nothing special, dank and small. Two beds are pushed against the far wall, sad beige comforters draped over cream white sheets. Dean is sat on the furthest one from you, jacket now discarded and hanging over the bathroom door. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt underneath, the short sleeves hugging his biceps tightly. It's your favorite on him. You shift from one foot to another, not knowing where to place your hands.

He’s placed your bags at the foot of your bed. You stand in the entrance for a moment too long and Dean notices. He always does.

“Are you going to sit down or am I gonna have to put you to bed myself?” he asks. You flush slightly, cheeks pink and move hurriedly towards your stuff, muttering a quick sorry as you do. Dean huffs loudly.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks exasperatedly. His upper body is turned toward you. You don’t miss the note of worry in his tone and you feel guilty.

Usually you’d play along with playful banter or his flirty comments and he wasn’t used to your solemn expressions and your sad eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he wasn't used to. It was painful and he didn't like it.

“I’m just…”you struggle for the right words to say, feeling tongue tied. Admitting your feelings for him was just out of the question. God you wished Sam had roomed with you like you’d asked.

Dean waits patiently and when you don’t finish your sentence, he pushes himself off the bed. You’re perched on the end of the bed now and he crouches so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“Is it something I said, or did?” he questions you. Again, you feel guilty. You shake your head quickly, lips pressed together in a tight line. He makes a “hm” sound that sounds pained and you break.

“I’m just not feeling my best,” you lie, trying your best to meet his gaze as he listens. “It’s not you,”

Dean doesn’t respond for a moment and you think perhaps he’s bought what you’ve said. However he scoffs again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His tone is somewhat harsher than you think he means but his face is soft, lips slightly parted as he silently pleads with you. You fidget, not sure how to answer him. “You know I care about you,” he whispers. He’s closer then you had realized. So close that you swear he must hear your heartbeat quicken.

“Did you call that girl?” you ask weakly, taking a sharp intake of breath as you spoke. Dean stares at you blankly for a moment.

“Girl?” he says, bewildered. You nod slowly.

“The girl from the diner,” you say, eyes trained at the tv stand just past Dean’s head in your line of sight. You fidget again.

“Why would I call her? I have you,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at that, it sounding shrill and foreign given the mood. It echos against the silence of the room. It seemed just like Dean to lighten the mood by giving you some line, something to cheer you up. But when you finally look back at him his face is serious. There’s no sign of amusement.

“She gave you her number though, right?” your voice is barely audible. He hears you though and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He half rolls his eyes, clearly bemused.

“And that means I have to call her?” You look at him. So he wasn’t interested in her after all. Maybe Sam was right, he was just being Dean.

He cups your cheeks lightly with his callused hands all of a sudden and you feel like all the air leaves you. “I have you,” he repeats. You feel dizzy.

“Don’t I?” he asks softly. He searches your face as if worried you don’t agree. You notice the way his shoulders have tensed.

“Yes,” you breath. His shoulders relax and he flashes you the most Dean smile imaginable.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester #supernatural au #supernatural x reader #dean winchester au #supernatural imagine #imagines #dean winchester imagine #jensen ackles

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lotanxiety · 7 months

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Ballsy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem reader

Summary: Your alter ego does something you always dreamed of but never had the balls to do. Let’s just say it leads to something great😈

Warnings: Shower sex, SMUT, NSFW 18+, slight breading, oral (female receiving), praise

____________________________________________

You grew up a hunter and crossed paths with Sam and Dean ages ago. Since you were around their age, you guys hit it off well and stayed in touch over the years. Soon after the boys had moved into the bunker, you did another hunt with them and mentioned you didn’t have a permanent home either and they graciously offered for you to stay with them! It’s now been 8 months of living with Sam and Dean. For the most part, it’s all great despite your hopeless crush on the eldest brother. You and Sam were best friends, and you and Dean had a weird, complicated friendship. You could never read him. Sometimes he would be flirty with you, giving you hope that something could happen, but then he would bring a girl home from the bar, breaking your heart a little more each time.

For the past two weeks, however, Dean has been extra flirty with you. He enjoyed making you blush and making inappropriate jokes at the worst times to embarrass you. This morning at breakfast, you sat across from Dean. While you both ate bacon, he kept watchful eyes on your every movement and when you’d make eye contact, he would wink at you or raise his eyebrows up and down. It made you giggle. You particularly loved when Dean was in a flirty mood, soaking up any and all attention from him before it would be gone.

You were pacing the floor in your room, thinking about the advice Charlie had given you.

“Just pretend you’re someone else and make a move.” Charlie said earlier in the week.

“I can’t do that, what if he doesn’t feel the same. It would ruin the whole dynamic. I’d have to move out and then go back to crappy motels and eat diner food all the time and-“ you rambled on.

“Y/N, please. Dean has had eyes for you for like… ever. Why else would he flirt with you like that? You can do it, just create an alternate version of yourself. She can have a new name and all the personality traits you want to have.” Charlie said.

“I don’t know, this feels kind of dumb”

“Just do it. Introduce yourself to me as the new you.”

“…um hi my name is-“

“Oh absolutely not, more confidence. Say it like you’re the queen of LARPing” Charlie states.

You clear your throat and try to push away any resistance that you normally would have. Right now you’re not Y/N, you’re Tessa; a smart, sexy, confident chick who goes and gets what she wants. You switch into this alter ego as best as you can and confidently say with some sultry in your voice, “Hi Charlie, I’m Tessa.”

“Much better. You got this, just go for it!”

I can do this. I just have to go for it. No fear. Well lots of fear, but fake it til you make it, right? Walking out of your room, you head for Dean’s bedroom. As you near the door, your heart races. The sound of the shower comes to your attention. “Oh shoot, of course once I muster up the courage to do this, he’s in the shower” you whisper to yourself, rolling your eyes. Then a thought crosses your mind. What would Tessa do? Walk right in there and take what she wants. Am I actually going to do this?

You open the door and enter Dean’s room, heart beating so loudly you were sure it was audible for the whole bunker to hear. You come to the bathroom door and knock so quietly that Dean doesn’t hear you. You take the opportunity to pause and get into character. You knock a second time, this time he hears you.

“Who is it?” Dean calls out behind the sound of water hitting the floor.

“It’s me” you shout back.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Dean asks from behind the door.

“Can I come in?” You ask. Despite wanting to walk in there, you obviously want to ask for consent.

“I- I’m kind of showering” Dean says thrown off by your question.

“I know” You retort back, lacing your voice with undertones.

Dean blinks under the running water, realizing what’s going on. “Come on in, sweetheart” he says. You open the door, trying to not let your fear show on your face, but the second you see his naked body dripping wet under the water, you’re sure your face falters. Without saying a word, you start stripping off your clothes. Dean watches in shock of the sight in front of him. Once your clothes are nothing but a pile in the floor, you stand in front of each other, both breathing kind of heavy but not saying a word.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Dean asks cautiously.

“Making a move” you say more confident that you thought possible with a smirk on your face. You slowly close the gap between the two of you. Deans eyes are dark with lust.

“Are you sure this is something you want?” He says, his voice much deeper than before. You nod your head as you look at him with your doe eyes.

“Words, sweetheart” he urges.

“Yes” you say breathless, now an inch away from him. With that confirmation, he quickly closes the gap between you two. The kiss was needy, but soft however quickly grew hungry for more. Stepping more into the shower, the warm water runs down your back and Dean starts to push you back against the wall, lifting your leg to his hip with his hand.

Breaking apart only for air he says, “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this moment”. He lips make contact with your neck, trailing down to your collarbone as he tentatively paws at your boob. It’s all passion between you. 8 months of sexual tension all being released at once. His kisses move lower, as he starts sucking on one of your nipples, slowly lowering himself to his knees. His mouth follows this southbound patter until he lands on his knees in front of you.

Grabbing your hips with his hands he looks up at you. “God- you are so fucking sexy” he says as he starts to kiss and nibble at your thighs, urging them apart. Your core is aching for any kind of contact. Dean pokes out his tongue between your wet folds, causing you to gasp at the contact. He gives you one last devilish smirk before he laps away at your sex. It throws you off guard, almost causing you to lose balance, but Dean steadies you with his hands never stopping his pace. His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking and biting. It doesn’t take very long before that coil winds up so tight and you release all over his face. He rides out your orgasm and then you pull him up to kiss him again. The kiss is different this time, almost more meaningful but still steamy. You open your mouth, allowing his tongue to graze over yours tasting yourself on him. You reach a hand in between you to palm his hard cock, causing the most pornographic groan from Dean into your mouth. Despite having just came, your core was practically crying for more. Wanting to return the favor for him, you started lowering yourself to your knees, as you still palmed him.

He quickly grabbed your arms. “Not this time, darlin. I want to feel you. Can I do that?” Dean asks.

“Yes please Dean, I need you.” You say standing upright again. Dean lined himself up with you and slowly pushed in, allowing you to adjust. You squeeze your eyes tight as the pain melts into pleasure.

“You can move now” you tell Dean and he does at a gruelingly slow pace. He starts speeding up as he kisses your lips again and rests his forehead against yours. The only sounds are of the water hitting the floor, the contact of your skin, and the heavy breaths and moans coming from the both of you. Dean reaches his hand down in between the two of you putting his thumb against your clit and making small circles. You’re sensitive from your last orgasm so you suck a breath in through your teeth and close your eyes.

“Please look at me, I want to watch you unravel on my cock. You look so beautiful like this” Dean praises. That familiar sensation builds and builds.

“That’s it. Cum for me. You can do it, uh huh. Good girl” Praise repeatedly falls from Deans lips as you orgasm for the second time, so much harder than before. The tightening of your cunt around Deans cock causes him to cum as well, spilling his juices into you. You both stay in that position for a moment, foreheads pressed together, taking deep breaths. Dean slowly pulls out of you and leans in for another kiss.

“We should’ve done that a long time ago” he says and you just chuckled. You two clean up by finishing up the shower together, Dean sweetly cleaning up your sex and washing your hair for you. Once you two get out, you both cuddle up on his bed.

“So, um… what caused you to be so bold?” Dean asked as you nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

“I don’t know, I guess I was just tired of you flirting with me but not making any real moves” You teased.

“Hey, those are my moves” Dean said defensively.

You two chatted some more, then fell asleep in each others arms watching old tv show re-runs.

The End.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester smut #smut #praise k!nk #shower scene

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siampie · 2 months

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Get Off the Highway || Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.2 K

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: I’m sorry for the short chapter. There isn’t much Dean in this one or much of an interaction between them. But I really hope you enjoy it. It is a short introduction to Reader and the very first meeting between our reader and the Winchesters. I know it says enemies to lovers trope, but I think it’s more along the lines of rivals to lovers. A bit like Anastasia and Dimitri, from the animated movie; Anastasia. If you know, you know. Which we’ll get more in the next chapter.

Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @hell0-ki11y111, @zepskies, @impalari, @kr804573, @urinternetmom

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Thanks,” You smiled at the waitress as she refilled your cup.

She sent a quick smile your way. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do.”

Sitting in the booth by the window, you were waiting for the help that Garth had promised you. You still had a hard time believing that he had sent the Winchesters your way. You had been working on this case for a little over two weeks. Strange killings had been going on in town. Wasn’t that how every hunt started? Strange deaths, classified more often than not as animal attack.

You knew better though. Everything about that case pointed to vampires. You had been able to locate their nest. Only problem was you were alone and there were at least eight of them. And before that case, you had never hunted vampires. Many hunters believed they had been hunted to extinction. And so far, you could only agree with them. Until now. It was a pretty big nest. At least, it was to you.

Not much of a team player, you usually hunt on your own. You liked it better this way. You didn’t have to depend on anyone for your survival. And you were the only one you had to worry about when on a hunt. It was better this way.

A dark muscle car parked next to yours on the parking lot. Two tall men climbed out of the car and made their way into the diner. The bell over the door rang as they walked through it. You observed them as they looked around the diner, certainly looking for you. The tallest of the two, with hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, was the first one to clock you. Broad shoulders, tall, the Winchesters were handsome men. Way out of your league.

“Sam and Dean Winchester, I presume?” You asked as they stopped by your booth. You introduced yourself as they took a seat across from you.

The waitress stopped by your table. They placed their orders, and the waitress left with a smile on her face. And you told them everything they needed to know about the hunt, the nest and the location of it.

Your back slammed against the wall as the male vampire shoved you into the wall. You tried to push him away as the vampire snarled before he dived for your neck. You had a plan that you had, of course, shared with the brothers.

“That’s a stupid plan.” Dean scoffed.

“How is it stupid?” You asked with a frown.

“Too complicated.” Dean retorted. “It’s vampires, we go in, kill them, save the girl, go out. Simple, easy.”

“And my plan is stupid.” You scoffed in turn. “What about the not getting killed part?”

“We kill them before they kill us.” Dean said back.

“You have an answer for everything, huh?” You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed at him.

And now, there you were. Fighting off a vampire because Dean Winchester thought he was too good for your plan. Alright, maybe your plan wasn’t all that good. It was the first time you were hunting vampires, after all. And sure, Sam had given you precious tips on how to take down a vampire. But Dean could have at least given you the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, given your plan a chance. It wasn’t all that bad.

You always thought there were safety in numbers. Although, you’d rather hunt alone. However, this was a vampire nest and you needed help. And your plan was for the three of you to stick together while you go through the nest. The Vampires would not know you were there. Chances were, they did not expect anyone to come to their nest. It wasn’t a grand and complicated plan, as Dean made it sound. It was your plan. And you liked to do things your way.

That was why you were annoyed more than anything. It was your hunt and your plan. And Dean Winchester decided that he would take over. And you simply did not like it. But you swallowed your pride because he knew better than you did. He had hunted vampires before while you had not. So, you trusted his opinion but you still didn’t like that they were not doing things your way.

“Took you long enough.” You said breathless, as the dead vampire fell to the ground. Beheaded.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah,” You nodded quickly. “I’m good.”

“SAM!” You both heard Dean call from upstairs.

On Sam’s heels, you rushed upstairs to Dean’s rescue. There, you saw more vampires and still no trace of the girl. One of those vampires was pining Dean to the floor, going for his neck. As soon as you reached the landing, the vampires turned on you and hissed. You reached into your pocket for the syringe that contained the dead man’s blood. It was poison to vampires. It would not kill them but incapacitate them for a little while. You stabbed the first vampire that reached you in the neck, and they crumpled to the floor. You took this opportunity to behead the monster. Sam was a little to your left, fighting his own vampire. He kicked it in the stomach before marching onto it. Judging that Sam did not need your help, you rushed to Dean, and beheaded the vampire attacking him.

You pulled him to his feet. His hand covered his bleeding neck. Your eyes immediately went to Sam. The latter was kneeling on the ground, straddling a headless body. You looked around you. Bodies were strewn around the room. It seemed you had taken care of all the vampires. You abandoned the brothers to check the rooms. You had to find the girl, make sure she was alright.

She was not. Not really. The vampires had fed on her and thankfully, she had not been turned into one herself. Physically, she would heal but emotionally—there was a long road ahead of her. You hoped she would move on from this eventually.

“It’s a weekday.” You said as an answer after the brothers invited you out to the bar.

“So?” Dean frowned at you.

“I don’t drink on weekdays.” You shrugged.

Dean scoffed before shaking his head. “It’s just a drink after a hunt.”

“I get that but I don’t drink on weekdays.” You retorted. “You guys go. Do what you usually do. I’m going back to my motel.”

“Suit yourself then.” Dean said before walking up to his car.

You exhaled as you watched him go. “Anyway, thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled down at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You smiled at him. “I’d rather go back to the motel.”

“Well, if you need help with anything, give us a call.” Sam offered kindly.

“Will do.” You nodded. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

Sam grinned at you. “Yeah. Be safe out there.”

“You too.”

You waved him goodbye before you drove away. You wouldn’t call. Not if you can help it. But it was nice to know you had the option if you chose to. It couldn’t hurt to have the Winchesters as your ally, could it? And who knew? Maybe you would call.

Chapter List || Next chapter

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester

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zepskies · 4 months

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Show Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: Another story for the Espresso-verse! This is set after “Devour Me,” and plays on plot threads in “Midnight Espresso” and the flashbacks in “In Bad Weather.”

Word Count: 3,100

Tags/Warnings: Angst, body shaming, body insecurity, protective Dean.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “Objects Are Closer Than They Appear”

Hunter funerals aren’t supposed to be lively affairs.

Alicia Jackson is special, however. She’s known so well throughout the hunter community that news of her death creates a kind of reunion at her mother’s house after the funeral, not unlike Asa Fox’s wake last year.

Even you had known Alicia, though not particularly well. You met her through Eileen. They’d called for your help on a ciguapa case a few months ago, and ever since, Alicia had insisted on buying you a beer anytime she was in town.

So today, Sam and Dean are really supporting you and Eileen by coming along.

Alicia’s mother, Martha, is a lovely Haitian woman in her late sixties. Her house is modest, but welcoming. She’s a gracious host to have so many rough and tumble hunters in her home.

The wake is mainly gathered in the backyard, where plastic tables and chair have been set up. Most of the hunters have collected into groups of the ones they know, sharing stories, laughing, eating, and drinking.

You’re in the kitchen with Martha, as you’ve offered to help her put out some more beers on the table outside. The smaller woman falters for a moment when she glances at a framed picture of her daughter on the wall. Alicia was beautiful, with coal-dark skin and soulful brown eyes she’d inherited from her mother.

You end up holding Martha’s hands in comfort when she nearly crumbles again. Your heart breaks for her. Even if you hadn’t been that close with Alicia, you’d hope that someone would take care of your own mother in a situation like this.

“She just has so many friends,” Martha says, with a tearful chuckle. “I never realized…”

“We try to look after each other,” you reply, smiling. “Everyone here knew your daughter, if not personally, then by reputation. And guaranteed, all of them have at least one good story to share.”

Martha nods. Somehow, she’s able to smile through her tears as she pats your hand.

After spending a few more minutes with her, you predictably find Dean by a long table of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

“Babe, you gotta try these mini quiche. They’re delicious,” he says, after popping another pastry into his mouth. You can see that he’s eaten nearly a whole tray while he’s been waiting for you.

“You realize we’re at a wake, not the Golden Corral,” you lightly tease. He shrugs.

“Still gotta eat, right?” he says.

His capacity for food knows no bounds, but you love him for it.

You glance over at Sam and Eileen chatting with a small group of hunters under the shade of a tree. They’re sitting close together at a picnic table. Your lips form a subtle smile, and you lean in close to Dean.

“Look at your brother, being a supportive non-boyfriend,” you say. They’ve been loosely “dating” for weeks, though you aren’t sure they’ve put an official label on what they are together.

Dean’s expression turns both fond and amused. “Think they’ve sealed the deal yet?”

You glance over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Dean waggles his brows suggestively. You do know what he means, and you playfully smack his chest. Mostly to stop him before he starts making lewd hand motions.

“Come on, that’s none of our business,” you reply. Inside though, you’re wondering the same thing.

Dean spies the look on your face and smirks.

“See. You’re curious too,” he says. He gestures at your face with the same hand that holds a bacon-wrapped cocktail weenie. You have to raise a hand to fend him off when he tries to veer it into your mouth.

“Don’t point at me with your sausage,” you quip.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that particular complaint outta your mouth before,” he smirks.

He eventually gives up on feeding you and eats it himself. His warm gaze is still on you though. You start to blush.

“Again, we’re literally at a funeral reception,” you say, despite your growing smile.

His gait becomes more flirtatious as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Like I said. We still gotta eat, don’t we?”

You splutter laughing, though you attempt to contain it behind your hand. Dean’s chuckle resonates through you when he pulls you in by your waist. His thumb brushes your hip. He’s not so much into PDA, and certainly not as “touchy” as you, but this much will do for now. You lean into him in turn.

He finishes off his umpteenth hours d’oeuvre and sets his nearly empty beer on the table. After letting loose a barely stifled belch, he mentions something about finding a bathroom.

“Dogs are already barkin’, huh?” you tease.

“Yep,” he freely admits, patting his stomach. “Give me five minutes…or ten.”

He squeezes your arm in parting before he takes off down the hall at a purposeful pace. It leaves you to contemplate the mini quiche.

Damn, they do look good. You bend over the table slightly to peruse your options, when a familiar voice drawls behind you.

“Still got a fat ass,” he teases.

You freeze. Slowly, you straighten up, and you turn to blink in surprise at the man who stands there, holding a beer and wearing a playful smile.

Yours is polite at best as you try to get through your shock.

“Carter,” you blurt out. What the hell are you doing here?

He greets you with an incline of his head. The way he says your name is both familiar, and a little unsettling.

You cross your arms and lean back on your heels. “You knew Alicia?”

“We tangled a few times,” Carter replies with a nod. His smile laces with a bit of innuendo, but his eyes have just enough heaviness to convince you that he really did have some kind of relationship with Alicia.

Oh, Ali. You could’ve done better, you think. You wish you’d known that tidbit of information when she was alive. You would’ve warned her.

“I’m sorry for your loss then,” you say. Carter nods again. A silence falls awkwardly between you two.

“Is that all we’re gonna say to each other?” he asks. “It’s been…what, a couple years?”

“Almost four,” you supply. You and Carter had ended just a few months before you met Sam and Dean, a little over three years ago now. You and Dean hadn’t started dating until last year.

“All right,” Carter says, rubbing at his chin. His gaze roams over you with a slight smile. They take you in from your high-heeled boots and jean-clad curvy thighs, to your green blouse, laced loosely in the front. You’d decided to dress a little nicer for the occasion.

“You know, you look the same,” Carter says. His head tilts. “But different somehow.”

You raise a brow. “Different?”

“Yeah, like…” He draws closer and leans on the table beside you. He sips at his beer. “Confident. Like you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

He mimics the hunch of a turtle in its shell.

“You used to be like a little mouse sometimes,” he adds with a light chuckle.

You know he means to be teasing, but you’re not laughing. If you’re not hiding anymore, it means you’re not trying to bury yourself under shapeless clothes, along with much of your inner self.

“Don’t you think that’s a little tight?” he’d asked you once, before you two went out together. It wasn’t the first time. (And it wouldn’t be the last.)

“I’m just saying,” he would often say. “You might feel more comfortable in something a bit looser. Cover these up a little.”

You remember how he’d squeezed the softness around your sides or your stomach. You also remember a well of anxiety in your chest that had made you feel almost grotesque when you’d studied yourself in the mirror afterwards.

Objects are closer than they appear…

You remember agreeing with him. Changing clothes. Drowning yourself in crewneck shirts and breezy buttoned-downs. Always wearing pants and baggy shirts to bed. Thinking all of this was to make you comfortable, and not the man who didn’t really love you.

So now, you give him a passive look as you take Dean’s forgotten beer and finish the last sip. Carter wears a hunter’s red plaid over jeans and his old leather boots. His blonde hair is shaggy around his ears, his face a little rough with stubble, his eyes still a deep blue.

He looks exactly the same. He probably is the same.

He’s right about one thing though. You’re not the same.

“We’re not in the profession of hiding,” you finally reply. “Guess I just got tired of it.”

Carter seems to sense your shift, and maybe, what you’re really saying. His smile falls into contemplation. He crosses his arms.

“Did I spot you with one of the Winchesters earlier?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that was Dean.”

Before you can add the boyfriend part, Carter whistles lowly and shakes his head.

“I’d steer clear of them if I were you,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Those two are walking hurricanes of bad luck, blood, and mayhem,” Carter says.

“You don’t even know Sam and Dean,” you counter. Your voice is sharp and your brows knit together in thinly veiled irritation. “So I suggest you shut your mouth and steer clear of me.”

You set the beer bottle a bit hard on the table and mean to brush past him. You spot Sam and Eileen again, still sitting in their same table under the tree. You aim to head over there to wait for Dean, but a hand wraps around your arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Carter frowns.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you tell him. You’re discreet in the way you try to twist your arm out of his grip. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching you two. The last thing you want to do is make a scene here, but Carter is being a stubborn ass.

Even though you manage to wrench out of his hold, he grasps your hand next to stop you from pulling away. He looks down at your hand, brushes his thumb over your skin. His gaze looks heavy, almost melancholy.

You know that funerals tend to bring out the sentimental shoulda, coulda, woulda in hunters, but you think he might be looking back on your time together with rosier glasses than he ought to be.

“Look, I'm sorry. Can’t I at least get you a drink? We can catch up,” he says.

“Consider me caught up,” you toss back. Frustration begins to set you on edge. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this. I mean, God, we weren’t even good together.”

At that, his grip tightens on your hand. Confusion and denial cross his face.

“That’s not true,” he protests.

Unbidden, you’re forced to remember the weeks you and Carter spent in Miami, where you’d met him. You remember how he’d convinced you to leave with him after his hunt was done, and to leave your family behind. A decision you regretted to this day…

You lean in closer just to whisper hotly. “You know it is. We didn’t have a relationship. We had a transaction, in which you liked what I could do for you. But you never loved me. You never even really knew me.”

At that, his hold finally loosens in his shock. You take the opportunity to slip your hand out of his. Another familiar hand rests along your lower back, and a firm wall radiates warmth behind you.

“Hey, party people,” Dean says. He gives Carter a “pleasant” smile, and you a more genuine look. You okay? it says.

You let out a subtly relieved breath and nod. “Hey, was just gonna go check on you.”

“I’m good,” Dean says. He looks over at Carter, whose expression has cooled considerably. Still, Dean inclines his head. “Hey, man.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. His tone is bland, until his gaze slides back to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re shacking up with this one now,” he says, leveling a finger at Dean. Then he gestures across the lawn, over at Sam. “Or is it the former anti-Christ over there?”

Both you and Dean bristle. Your temper has a thin fuse right now, and while you still don’t want to make a scene, you might have to make an exception.

“Why don’t you remember where the hell you are and have some decency,” you hiss. “Do us all a favor and fuck off.”

Once again, you try to walk past him. This time when Carter grabs you, it’s because he smarts at you getting the last word. A sharp breath escapes you, and Dean intervenes with a firm, warning grip on the other man’s wrist.

“Hey, you wanna act right, before you make yourself a problem?” Dean says. His face is relaxed, but behind his eyes are a very real threat. “I got no issue laying you out right here, in front of all your buddies.”

Carter has a moment of indecision. He notices a few pairs of eyes drawing their way, and so he lets go of you, even as he sneers at Dean.

“Shove the Prince Charming bit, asshole. She ain’t a damn princess,” Carter snaps. “She don’t act like one, and she definitely don’t look like one.”

You roll your eyes at his spite, but Dean can’t quite let that one slide off his back.

His grip tightens on Carter’s wrist as he pulls him in. He pats Carter hard on the back and smiles as if they’re old friends. But really, it just gives him the vantage point to speak lowly near the man’s ear.

“All right, douchebag. Keep talking shit. I’ll bet that’s how you’ve gotten this far in life,” Dean says. “But touch her again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your hand. And maybe, I won’t stop there.”

He tilts his head, so he can see the glimmer of intimidation hidden well behind the other man’s eyes. Then Dean lets him go. He turns and lays a hand at the small of your back. The two of you fall into step together while walking across the lawn in the backyard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

Dean frowns and notices the way your gaze has lowered. His hand moves around your waist and squeezes to get your attention. Without him realizing, it just reminds you of the way Carter used to point out the thicker curves on your body.

Cover these up a little.

“Hey, you okay—”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, easing out of his hold.

It leaves him feeling unbalanced, and a bit put out. Dean remains quiet as he follows you over to his brother’s table.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks you, discreetly, but with concern. The wake is coming to an end, and by now Dean has filled him in on your run in with your ex, Carter Hall.

You give Sam a nod and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you reply.

Dean is quiet. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets. Eileen has invited you and Dean to join her and Sam at a nearby bar to keep the evening going with a few other hunters, but this has already been one hell of a day. You’re ready to make the long drive home and call it a night.

Eileen’s also agreed to take Sam home (eventually). You notice how they share smiles, how Eileen ducks her head with the beginnings of a blush. You’re happy for them, even as you and Dean part ways with a more stifled silence on the way back to the car.

It’s late, and it’s cold. You walk beside him with your arms crossed, just to brace yourself against the windchill eating through your jacket. You glance over at your boyfriend and feel a measure of remorse for the way you brushed him off earlier. You have a feeling that’s part of the reason why he’s quiet, giving you your space.

You decide to close the distance. You sidle up closer and curl your arm around his. Your hand slips into his as well, threading your fingers together with Dean’s.

He looks over at you with a slight raise of his brows. His lips quirk at a smile, and his hand tightens on yours. You’re able to give him a more sincere smile in return.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

You look up at him and bite your lower lip. “I’m starving. I never did get to try those quiche.”

It only takes a moment for you to devolve into a quiet giggle. It’s infectious, and Dean laughs with you.

“Okay, we’ll stop somewhere,” he nods. Though his eyes widen in realization. “Damn, that means you haven’t eaten since, what, this morning? Before the funeral?”

You mentally count back the hours, and you have to agree with a sheepish nod. Dean shakes his head in disapproval.

“Come on, sweetheart. You should’ve said something.”

You shrug, even though you know he’s right. Your free hand curls around his bicep, and you lay your head against his arm. He looks down at the top of your head and heaves a sigh, despite his lingering smile.

Though the peace you’ve brokered is soon interrupted.

Dean had to park down the road of Martha Jackson’s house. Two cars down is Carter, who’s about to climb into his old Honda Civic.

Damn. He’s still driving the same piece of shit too, you note. His head raises, and as if he knows he’s being watched, his attention turns toward you and Dean. You don’t allow yourself to react, other than staring across the way, directly at Carter. You wait until he looks away first, opening his door and getting into his car.

You expel a breath and brush your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Dean nods. He guides you toward the passenger side of the Impala, but his gaze lands beyond his car, to the Honda still parked and warming up. He finds Carter’s gaze through the front window for a moment.

It’s Carter who once again breaks first; he revs the ignition and peels onto the street, and down the road past them without looking back.

Dean's lips curve. Bitch.

Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders and rounds the car towards the driver’s side.

He’s more than ready to go home.

AN: *sighs* Okay, originally this story was going to be a one-shot, but it just got too damn long. Let me know what you think of Dean finally meeting her ex-douchebag, Carter.

Part 2 (coming next week) will include all the angsty hurt/comfort and smut to come...

Next Time:

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower... “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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rewrittenreality · 4 months

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Sweet Cherry Pie

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 621

Warnings: A little cursing but not much at all

Summary: You are taking care of your sick boyfriend

A/n: Hi! Hello! It has definitely been a while! Life has been so incredibly busy. I wrote this while I was sick because it kept me happy and busy. I have a little something planned for Valentine's day this year! Love you all!

Dean never got sick, his immune system was steel. You, however, got sick more than him. He was used to being there to baby you when you got sick and he enjoyed it. Now, here Dean was, sick and confined to the bunker while you and Sam went about your daily routines. You stayed home with Dean in case he needed anything while Sam was out getting food for the 3 of you.

Things had been fairly slow hunt wise so you knew you could be there for Dean. He was laying on the couch letting out frequent coughs as he watched the Tv. When he went into a coughing fit, you stood up from where you were in the other room and made your way to your sick boyfriend.

“You need to sit up, Dean. Laying down makes your coughing worse.” You tell him, helping him sit up as he coughed.

“I hate being sick, it sucks! I feel like I’m gonna die! AGAIN!” Dean whined as you rubbed his back to soothe his coughing fit.

One thing about Dean on the off chance that he did get sick, he was a whiner. He acted like the world was going to end and you found that funny. You, on the other hand, somewhat enjoyed it because it meant that you could baby him for a change.

“You’re not gonna die. You have a cold.” You stated, trying to hold in a giggle.

Dean glared at you, huffing in annoyance at the truth of your words. You ignored his glare as you got up to get him a blanket and some medicine. You covered him in the blanket when you came back and tried to give him the medicine.

“I’m not taking that.” Dean huffed, turning his head away from you.

“Why not?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Because it tastes gross.” Dean said, still keeping his head turned away from you.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his head to turn back towards you. Dean glared at you again, acting like such a drama queen. His cheeks were flushed and his nose was red because of his cold. It was cute to you in a way.

“I want the cherry stuff. It tastes better.” Dean whined, trying to push your hand away.

“You want me to go all the way to the store to get different flavored cough syrup?” You asked, your eyebrow still raised in a questioning manner.

“It tastes like that sweet cherry pie you make for me! It’s better than that grape shit!” Dean argued, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

“Are you saying my pie tastes like cold medicine?” You questioned, putting your hands on your hips while giving him a look.

“No!” He tried to sit up, but started coughing. You sighed and lightly pushed him back, so he is laying down again. “I promise your pie doesn’t taste like cough syrup.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”You sighed, not even trying to hide the smile on your lips.

You laughed softly as he gave you those eyes you simply couldn’t say no to. He really did act like a big baby when he was sick. You sighed with a small smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead as you thought about it. You just couldn’t say no to him, not when you had the chance to take care of him for a change. Dean smiled all big at your words, proud of himself for immediately convincing you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he secretly loved when you took care of him like this. He knew that he could ask for just about anything and you’d say yes to it.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #fluff #dean winchester fluff

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

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As Long As It’s Not About Love, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Fluff

Word count: 2141

Tw: Brief mentions of injuries/blood, spoilers for all SPN seasons, you get a dog (no excuses). Dean struggles to say ‘I love you’. Some pining, but it’s all resolved. This was written in an hour and you can tell.

Summary: The three times Dean wants to say the L-word, but he can’t. And the one time he does.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“From the first time we touched with our eyes Only magic could take away my heart. I am always afraid for my heart.”

For as long as you’d known Dean, you knew he could never say the L-word. You had known this when you became friends and you had known this when you became a couple. It never seemed to bother you. Friends around you had thrown it around like a casual thing, but Dean seemed to attach more meaning than most to that word. He never outwardly discussed it with you, but you knew it bothered him at times. It never bothered you, though. No matter how long the two of you had been dating, you found peace with his reluctance.

Dean, however, did not. He loved you - he knew he did, which was exactly why it bothered him so much. If his feelings told him one thing, but his mouth couldn’t voice it, where would that leave him?

He had tried to tell you. Many, many times. But there was always something, or someone that would interfere. More often than not, that was his own conscious.

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies, sweet lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The first time he almost said it, had been a sheer moment of fear. Hunting halfgods sometimes appeared to be more challenging than you were originally led to believe. He and Sam had sprung the perfect trap: you and Dean would serve as easy bait as Sam would try to sneak from behind. But plans always worked better in theory.

The god had been aware of your scheme, and had set his very own trap, leaving Sam unconscious on the floor the second he had opened the back door. Neither you nor Dean had enough time to react before you were both on the floor.

When you awoke, all three of you had been tied to a chair, your wrists bound tightly together, almost restricting the blood flow. Dean remembered all too well how he had felt that day. The halfgod had loomed over your figure, taunting and threatening you, almost enjoying the way the Winchesters reacted.

From the back of your chair, you managed to clumsily reach Dean’s hand, clinging to it tightly. When he felt it shake within his own, he would have whispered any words to comfort you, but there hadn’t been much else he could besides show the same stone cold expression, not daring to let the god know he had been pushing all the right buttons.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world? Fall forever and never look behind. But I must keep my heart from my mind.”

It was when you finally returned to the motel after slaying him, that reality began to dawn upon him. You had been frightened that day - mortified. And there was nothing either of you could do besides watching it happen.

When it took you longer than usual to get out of the bathroom, he had entered the room and found you upon the floor, your head in your hands as you silently wept out all the left-over stress. He had sat down on the floor beside you, not saying anything. His arms wrapped around you as he forced you into his hold, his embrace grounding you as you found yourself slowly coming back down to Earth.

The blood on his shirt was a rude interruption to your eyes. Where calmness had finally begun to settle in, you now found yourself reliving it again. Your sobs grew harder again as Dean began to gently shush you, his fingers tracing figures on your back.

Mumbles of desperation escaped you without full context, and - though he had no idea what you were saying - Dean knew you were trying to make everything make sense in your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” He muttered into your hair. “I…” His breath hitched slightly, a dawning feeling settling in his stomach.

He couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The second time was after Dean came back from the post-apocalyptic dimension. You had stayed behind with Rowena, watching over Lucifer. Rowena had insisted she didn’t need the help, but Dean would rather have you safe in the bunker than possibly stuck in a world where angels ran haywire.

When Lucifer had shown up on the other side of the portal, his blood had almost run cold. First, he lost Sam - who eventually came back -, then Lucifer would be terrorising Jack, and to top it all off, the devil loved to boast about how terrified you were of him.

In truth, you had kept yourself standing for quite a while. You had almost gained his respect for it. But you were still a mortal, and you stood no chance against an archangel. Not even a fallen, half-fuelled one. Not when he was pissed.

Rowena had cast him out before he could deal any severe damage, so the words he had spoken to Dean had been nowhere close to the truth. He hadn’t gutted you, tortured you or put your head on a spike. Dean hadn’t truly believed all of his words either, but they chilled him to his core nonetheless. There was no easy way to check up on you; nothing would soothe him but perhaps his own mind. And it caused a terrible distraction to him in the whole escaping plan.

“Oh, the last time we touched with our eyes And the magic was stronger than the heart. Oh, I can't run away with my heart.”

When Dean finally resurfaced, he was met with your bloodied face, a hasty plaster just beneath your left eye. Confusion was evident on your face, but he dismissed it. The people behind him could be introduced later.

His bag immediately fell to the floor, a heavy sigh escaping him as he walked towards you in three long strides. His arms wrapped around you tightly, squeezing your back as his head fell in the crook of your neck.

“You’re safe,” He uttered, swallowing down the urge to let out a choked cry. “You’re alright.” His hands rose to your cheeks as you parted, his eyes staring into yours with relief. A comforting kiss was placed upon your lips as he revelled in the feeling of your warm hands covering his. You were alive - you were well.

“I…” Again, that dreadful feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. Your eyes showed empathy; you knew. He didn’t have to say it. He wanted to. He just couldn’t.

“I missed you so much.”

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as they're not about love.”

The third time was during Chuck’s impending doom situation. Worlds had already been destroyed, and you knew it was just a waiting game now until yours would be next. You had lived through apocalypses, dimensions and times, but impending doom had been your worst experience thus far. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Sam and Dean were adamant and stubborn, always ready to fight, but even now they began to see that perhaps, this truly had been the end.

“So, what’s next?” Sam sighed, multiple papers strewn on the table in front of him. You and Dean sat on the other side of him, a bored expression on both of your faces. “I hate to be the one to say this,” You sighed. “But I think acceptance is really all there is now.”

You felt Dean’s eyes turn to you. “Really?” “Yes, really, Dean.” You clarified. “We’re fighting God. We can’t win that one.” “We can’t just give up.” “Then, what do you suggest we do?” You shouted, all pent up frustration suddenly tumbling out. “Bring him a gift basket with a note ‘please, don’t kill us’? Maybe he’ll show some sympathy!” You rose from your seat, the chair falling on the floor behind you with your movement. “We’re going to die! The sooner we accept that, the better! Makes it a lot easier.” Though the last part was mumbled, you were sure the guys heard it too. You didn’t want them to respond to it. You turned around, heading out the library towards your room.

“Sweetheart, come on!” Dean called after you, also rising from his seat, but you had already disappeared. Sam cast him an apologetic glance. “Ah, save it.” His brother groaned, taking off after you.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world Fall forever.”

A soft knock was heard on the door before the knob slowly turned. “Sweetheart?” “Leave it, Dean.” You groaned, curled up on the bed, which you had almost forgotten you shared. “No,” He answered, before the door closed. A moment of silence fell over the room before the bed slightly dipped behind you. A hand gently made its way to your shoulder, placing comfort there.

“How do you find any solace in all of this?” You muttered, hugging a pillow closer to you. “I don’t.” He answered honestly. “But we can’t afford to stop fighting. If I did, I would have been dead ten years ago.” “You were dead ten years ago.” You countered. A chuckle escaped him at your remark. You turned your head at the sound, showing him a faint smile.

“We’ll keep fighting,” He returned, his voice equally hushed. “Until we fall down. We don’t stop fighting until we stop breathing.” His hand lowered over your arm, finding your hand instead. As his fingers intertwined with yours, he gave you a pleading look: “Please, don’t stop fighting. If we can get five more days, I’d like to spend them with you.”

You let out a low scoff at that. Not in annoyance, but in agreement. You brought your hands up to your mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of Dean’s hand. “I love you, Dean.” You whispered against it, your eyes looking up to look into his. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“Take my heart away but, no You can't say words about love.”

When he finally managed to say it, he didn’t even think of it. Where he had once tried to find proper words for every situation, he had now come to accept things as they were.

When Jack had brought everything back, you and Dean decided to take off on your own. Sam wanted to leave the hunting life behind, and after everything the three of you had been through, you completely understood him. And to your surprise, so had Dean. Both of you had settled into a typical white fence house, the occasional demon traps hidden under doormats and salt lining every window. But besides that, you seemed to have found somewhat of a normal life.

Much to Dean’s demand, you had gotten a dog, caring for it as if it had been a child. Walks were always shared together, a great way for both of you to get some exercise without having to hunt everything that hadn’t seemed relatively normal.

“If the magic comes between us And we never meet again. Take a part of me away.”

And that was exactly how he had found himself in that situation. On a bench in a dog park, sitting directly next to you, your head on his shoulder. He never thought he’d find himself enjoying a simple life, but there he sat, watching his dog run with the others while both of you sat in blissful peace.

“I was thinking of going to that new steakhouse downtown tonight.” You mumbled, a faint smile on your face as you felt Dean’s shoulders shift slightly with his laughter. “Bought some pie for when we get home afterwards.”

“That sounds amazing,” He groaned. “Good,” You laughed, looking up at him. “Because I already made the reservation.” A fond smile crossed his face as he leaned his head against yours.

“God, I love you.”

Your body tensed simultaneously with his as his words were spoken. Lifting your head, you gave him a surprised look, unable to suppress the grin growing on your face. Dean copied your look, a low chuckle escaping him as he processed his words.

“I do,” He reassured. “I love you.” You laughed at that, your hands falling around his shoulders as you brought him in for a hug. “I love you.” He repeated between kisses placed on your collarbones. Then, he kept you at arms distance, unable to deny a second laugh. A firm kiss was placed upon your lips - one you gleefully returned. “I love you.” He spoke again, placing a second kiss on your forehead.

“God, I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

“'Cause maybe it's all about love, love.”

#november writings 2023 #spn #supernatural #dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Jensen ackles

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sourholland · 1 year

Text

WELCOME TO THE STYLE MASTERLIST

series based off of taylor swift’s song style

Summary → He’s the Quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of Lake Erie—but does he have the heart to match it? You’re the Bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. It doesn’t take much to catch the eye of Joe Burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

AN → Honestly this idea came to me pretty suddenly, it wasn’t very premeditated. I’m not sure anyone will be interested in reading it, this is me kinda testing the waters. I’m just going through a crazy sad breakup so I’m kinda just trying to get back into the things I love to do, writing being one of them. Also, I kinda just want to get my mind off stuff and who doesn’t love Joe Burrow haha. As always, let me know to be added to the tag list :)

Pairing(s) → Joe Burrow x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Mature Themes/NSFW Themes, Angst, Injury, Forbidden Love, More to Come

PLAYLIST

PART ONE - No Headlights

PART TWO - Good Girl

PART THREE - James Dean

PART FOUR - His Wild Eyes

PART FIVE - Taking Off His Coat

Teaser →

After a rigorous auditioning process with over a thousand girls trying to earn their spot on the Bengal’s Cheerleading Squad, only forty made the cut. Most returners, some new like yourself. You’d watched girls break bones, continuing to audition on them to have a shot on the squad. Many left in tears, cut and sent home with hardly any reason why.

There was a little bit of metaphorical survivor’s guilt after you’d made the team, knowing this wasn’t your dream like it was for some others. This was only a season or two commitment for you while you finished up your last year of college. Then you’d become a teacher, something you’d had a passion for over the years. Cheerleading was more so a hobby, you’d danced all of your life and had cheered in high school. This wasn’t going to be your livelihood, nor did it offer you the funds to live off of for more than a short while.

There were plenty of rules to follow, many of which had you questioning if this was truly what you wanted. The handbook they’d given you was thick, although some of the girls had told you that they’d lessened up on the requirements over the years after a lawsuit had been filed. In the end, it wasn’t so bad. Tedious, but still a very surreal experience.

From about April to the middle of July, it was practice twice a week from 7:30 at night to about 11. There was a separate facility used to work and condition through the colder months, just following the Super Bowl. Once pre-season truly began, the whole team moved practice facilities. This put you in the same place as the Bengals practiced, giving you more field time than gym time to get acclimated. It was different, especially due to the fact that players and cheerleaders were placed at an arms length most of the time.

The afternoon of the first practice at the new stadium, you’d all been given the talk. This was basically your coaches and executives way of saying that if anyone found out that anyone off the squad had anything more than a friendly, professional relationship with one of the players—they’d be either cut or sanctioned. It was bad for the image of the team, making it bad for those in charge.

It shouldn’t have been a problem.

That first night practice in August was tough, you were coming off of a sprained ankle and the heat was blistering even at 8 at night. Amanda, your head coach, sent you inside to grab some ice from the athletic trainer to bring back out to the field. There was a stigma around the coaching and treatment of NFL cheerleaders, but you’d mostly had a decent experience so far. Your coaches did care that you were healthy and equipped to cheer.

Adorned in a slightly baggy Bengals T-shirt and spandex, you walked through the empty halls of the mostly deserted facility. The players had just ended their practice about an hour earlier, you watched them all exit into the locker room. That meant that mostly everyone had called it a night, heading home. The cheerleaders stayed late because practice was meant to be after work or class, it wasn’t a full-time job.

The door to the athletic trainers office was slightly ajar, the light on. Pushing it open slightly, you stepped in with furrowed eyebrows and a curious look. On the large medical table, ice in hand, sat Joe Borrow still in his practice jersey and shorts. The office was empty besides him, trainer nowhere to be seen.

He was a good looking guy, you’d give him that. Maybe it was the fact that he was 6’4 or maybe it was the fact that he was really fucking good at his sport. He looked up at you and gave a friendly grin, laying the ice on his knee.

“Emily said she was heading home about a half hour ago, her kid was sick or something so she had to pick him up from the babysitter,” Joe told you politely. “I came in just as she was like walking out, she just told me to lock up the office when I was done.”

Someone was clearly a rambler.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I was just going to grab some ice.”

He nodded and went silent while you walked over to the ice maker, taking the plastic scooper and putting some of it into a plastic bag. He was still looking at you, making it obvious as you saw him from your peripheral. Twisting the bag, you felt slightly awkward just standing there in silence.

“I’m Joe,” he spoke again.

“Y/N,” you turned back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He extended a hand towards you, smiling as you took it and shook it softly. When you broke from his grip, he remained looking at you. He was definitely one of those people who looked you right in the eyes through the entire conversation. You didn’t know if this made you particularly uncomfortable or slightly excited.

“You’re a cheerleader.”

“Was that a question?” You chuckled, “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“No, no. I was kind of just thinking out loud.”

He was easily flustered, that much was obvious. He repositioned the bag of ice and looked back up at you with slightly pink cheeks. This made you want to crack a grin, feeling like you were talking to a boy for the first time ever or something.

“I should head back to practice,” you told him, watching him slowly nod in understanding.

“Yeah, of course,” Joe smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list :)

#joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x yn #joe burrow series #joe sheisty #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic

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fictionalwh0ree · 3 months

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hey!!! could you please do a dean winchester x reader where they play a game or something after celebrating a successful hunt and they end up confessing to each other or something like that? thanks!

best of five- dean winchester

summary: after wrapping up a hunt, you go for a drink with dean. he challenges you to a game of darts, but when the game is tied 2-2, dean ups the stakes, changing the entire trajectory of the night. word count: 2k warnings: drinking

going to the bar after wrapping up a case had become a tradition with you and the winchester boys. when your cases were in a nice city, you’d usually end up at a nicer bar, where it didn’t smell like piss and beer. one that was busy. your nights would usually end with you having hooked up with some guy there and dean taking some girl back to the room, meaning sam would room with you for the night. however, many of your cases happened in smaller towns. this meant you’d frequent shitty bars that reeked of cheap beer and piss. you enjoyed the atmosphere more, weirdly enough.

tonight had been one of those nights, you’d wrapped up a witch case in buttfuck, kentucky. usually, you’d go straight to the bar, not even stopping at whatever shitty motel you were staying at. but today, sam had called it a night early, asking to be dropped off. you and dean pushed for the younger boy to join you guys, but he insisted that you two go one your own, saying he had a headache and was sore all over. eventually, you agreed, taking him back before showering quickly and heading out. when you’d arrived at the bar, you weren’t even sure the place was open. the building was made of wood, old wood, and it looked like it was one gust of wind away from collapsing. that’s how you knew the drinks would be cheap.

you followed dean into the bar, immediately greeted by an older bartender. you took a seat at the bar and dean ordered the two of you a beer. you scoped the area, seeing some older men in cowboy hats and flannels with ripped off sleeves eyeing you. you also noticed the girls around. similar to the men, they were older, their shirts tied up at the front and bright red lipstick was smeared messily around their thin lips, their eyes glued to dean.

“jesus christ, these people are creeping me out,” you muttered to him.

“yeah, tell me about it,” dean laughed, making eye contact with a blonde lady. she smiled “seductively,” revealing lipstick stained teeth.

“i’ll call sam, let him know he should be sleeping in my room tonight. can’t imagine you leaving here home alone tonight,” you teased.

“ha ha,” he fake laughed.

“he might have to sleep in the car. i already know you’re going home with that guy over there,” he said, nodding his head towards the corner of the room.

you looked over in the right direction, met by the eyes of a man old enough to be your father. he smiled up at you, revealing his missing front tooth and the yellowing rest.

“oh yeah, he’s real cute,” you played along, rolling your eyes playfully.

dean sighed, looking around the poorly lit building. his eyes landed on a darts board, and he was immediately interested. he got a refill on your drinks before pulling you over.

“winner pays for drinks?” you said, collecting the darts from the board.

“you know it,” he said.

“best of five?” you asked.

“yep,” he confirmed, already picking up a dart.

dean had won two sets before you caught up, bringing the score to 2-2.

“sudden death?” you asked dean.

“uh huh,” he confirmed, face a little flushed.

“but, hold on,” he said, calling your attention, “what do you say we raise the stakes?”

“how so?” you smiled, interested.

thats when dean pulled a little bottle out of his jacked pocket.

“what is that?” you asked.

“i snagged it from that witch’s house. its the truth serum,” he said.

your mind flashed back to your case. yesterday, you’d been on the hunt for whatever was causing some odd deaths in the small town. you’d stopped at a diner for breakfast, and what you didn’t know at the time was that your waitress was a witch. she overheard your conversation and put in a couple drops of the truth serum into sams drink. she was interrupted by a coworker, explaining why neither you nor dean had it in your drink. for the following four hours, sam could not lie. it was hilarious to you and dean, you couldn’t stop laughing. when you’d found her den today, sam asked her what she did. she whipped out a small bottle with a dropper.

three drops of this and you can’t tell a single lie for hours, she’d said with a smug smile.

dean had been the one to finish her off, which is why he had the chance to grab the bottle, thinking it’d be funny for the future.

“loser takes three drops?” you asked.

“loser takes three drops,” dean confirmed.

“you’re on, winchester. be ready to spill your deepest and darkest secrets to me,” you smirked.

“yeah right,” he scoffed, “i’ll be hearing all about your wet dreams in ten minutes.”

“you wish,” you laughed, picking up a dart.

after an intense twenty minutes, you were losing. the score was 17-50. all you needed was one bullseye and you could win. you were on the last dart of your turn. you focused your eyes on the taunting red circle in the middle, drawing your hand back before pushing forward and releasing the dart. you watched as it landed right in the centre, granting you the winner.

“yes,” you cheered, turning to dean with your arms up in the air.

“no no, no way,” dean said.

“i win, you lose” you said, smiling childishly.

“you are so lucky,” he spoke, shaking his head with a smile.

“it had nothing to do with luck, buddy. this is pure skill,” you bragged.

“yeah right. was landing four darts on the floor pure skill?” he teased.

“that was all part of my master plan,” you lied.

“okay,” dean said sarcastically.

“you know what time it is,” you said, picking up the little bottle.

“i don’t know if this is a good idea, y/n,” he said.

“awe are you scared?” you said, mocking him with a pout.

“no,” he scoffed.

“perfect,” you said, dropping three drops into his beer, “drink up deano.”

he chugged the beer, slamming the cup onto the table. you watched as he opened his eyes slowly, looking at you.

“how do you feel?” you asked expectantly.

“great,” he said.

you looked at him, confused. for sam, it had hit almost instantly.

“i lied. i’m really nervous. please don’t ask me anything stupid,” he blurted, causing a smile to spread on your face.

“who was your first kiss?” you asked.

“i said it was mindy jones in eighth grade but it was actually jenna mcadams in grade ten,” he said.

“go to hell, y/n,” dean said.

“aw, you couldn’t live without me,” you teased.

“you’re right,” dean said before smacking his own face.

you smiled widely, your brain working hard to find a good question to ask him. you spitfired a couple dumb questions that left you clutching your stomach.

“okay okay. can we just go back now?” dean whined.

“fine, dean. give me your keys,” you said.

“my keys? why?” he asked.

“don’t you think you’ve drank a little too much to be on the road,” you asked.

“yes,” he said.

“perfect,” you smiled innocently, sticking your hand out towards him.

he rolled his eyes, reluctantly handing you the keys. he followed you out to his car and got into the passenger seat, you started the car up, picking out a mötley crüe casette and putting it in. as you started the car, you could feel dean’s eyes burning into the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you joked.

“your music taste is really great, you know that? i mean i didn’t expect it from you but i wish it’d rub off on sam. sometimes i actually enjoy his girly shit,” he confessed.

“you like it?” you laughed.

“it’s catchy,” he said, followed by a quick, “don’t tell sam.”

you sped down the highway, kickstart my heart blasting. your window was open a little, wind blowing into the car and blowing your hair with it. it was almost a full moon and the streets were almost completely illuminated. you felt dean’s eyes on you once more. in his head, he couldn’t help but think about how perfectly the light framed your face, how it made you look almost angelic. he tried to pry his eyes from you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice him staring. he had vowed to keep his feelings for you to himself, thinking you didn’t feel the same, worried that your relationship would be ruined if he said something. he scolded himself in his head for the serum idea. he was soon broken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you’re staring again,” you said over the music.

“sorry,” he apologized.

your eyes flicked to him quickly before you spoke again.

“so you gonna tell me why you were staring? do i have something on my face?” you asked.

“no, you just look really beautiful,” dean confessed.

“really what?” you asked, surprised and completely flattered, your cheeks heating up.

“really beautiful,” he repeated.

“you think i’m beautiful?” you asked shyly, biting your lip.

“i think you’re the most beautiful person out there,” he said.

“are you serious?” you asked, your face now hot as you held back a smile.

“well, i can’t lie,” dean said, matter-of-factly.

“dean, can i ask you something?” you said, to which he nodded.

you knew now was your chance. you really liked dean, you had for years, and you thought you felt a connection between the two of you sometimes. you’d seen the way he looked at you sometimes, you knew you were looking at him the same way when you could. you felt it when you made eye contact, when you laughed together.

“is there something between us?” you asked, eyes flickering anxiously between the boy and the road, “because i feel like there is, but i also feel like i could just be crazy.”

“i’d like there to be,” dean confessed.

“really? because i- i like you dean,” you said, making a confession of your own.

“i like you too. i have for a long time, since you started hunting with us,” he said.

“what do you like about me?” you asked, taking the opportunity.

“you’re evil,” dean smiled.

“mm, that doesn’t sound like something you like about me,” you joked.

“well,” he said before clearing his throat, “i like how your hair smells when you wash it. i like how peaceful you look when you sleep. i like how you glow when the light hits your face. i like the way you draw everyone’s attention when you step into the room. i like how easy it is for you to read people. i like how you always have sam and i’s back. i like how you care about us more than anyone ever has. i like how you don’t complain about having to listen to our problems and how you always know what to say. i like how strong and independent you are. i like how gentle you are when you patch me up. i don’t know what i don’t like about you.”

you had arrived at the motel and parked the car. it was quiet for a moment.

“i- i actually think i might love you.”

you looked up at dean, seeing the terrified look in his eyes.

“i love you too,” you smiled, pulling dean in by the shirt.

you kissed him hard, his lips moving with yours in perfect sync.

“you’re a great kisser. what do you say we take this upstairs?” dean said, making you laugh.

you nodded and followed him up to the room, his arms around your waist the whole time.

maybe the truth serum wasn’t a bad idea after all.

#dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

Text

Hunt Gone Wrong

Dean Winchester x injured Reader

Summary: The reader is injured while on a hunt, but doesn't want the boys to know. Considering it should have been a super easy hunt.

Word Count: 2,009

Not Proof Read

Trigger Warning: Blood, Injury, Needles, Swearing. 18+

AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

Masterlist

I’m not a colorful person, the majority of my wardrobe is made up of black, gray and dark greens. Today, more than ever I’m thankful for my drab wardrobe. Blood doesn’t show in black. I know the gash on my side is bad, but how bad I’m not sure. When I had pulled my hand out from under my shirt it was covered in blood. My blood. I wince, shifting slightly in the passenger seat of the impala. Biting my lip to keep my breathing as steady as possible. Focusing on the trees flying past as Dean drives, his foot weighing heavily on the accelerator.

The hunt had gone exceptionally well, minus the small mishap that had left me in my current situation. Dean and Sam had begrudgingly let me come with them to take out a demon, an easy job. There was only one that we were after on this occasion, or so we thought. We had unintentionally split up upon entry to the house, Sam and Dean had headed upstairs searching for the demon. But something caught my attention and I had veered away from them. I realize now, that it was all apart of the demons plan to draw me away from the protection of the boys. A fact that I wanted to keep from Sam and Dean. Hence, why I was doing my best to keep my injury hidden from them. Praying my shirt and flannel would absorb all of the blood and I wouldn’t stain the seats in the impala.

I zone in and out, listening to the boys argue about what they could have done differently, what went right and who screwed up what. I am counting down the minutes until we are back at the hotel, my jaw clenched, every muscle in my body aching from how tense I have been on the short, fifteen minute drive back.

“Y/N?” Dean says, reaching over to squeeze my knee. I jump, pulling away absentmindedly, “You okay there? You have been awfully quiet.” His brows pull together, worry forming across his face at my actions. “Yeah, I am good. Just tired, ready to get to the motel. All good De.” I try my best to smile, probably more of a grimace. I know I haven’t convinced him, his lingering glance that I catch out of the corner of my eye tells me that much. He knows me all too well, a fact that I do not normally mind. However, today, I just want to fade into the background. I wish that he was not as familiar with my mannerisms as he is.

The gravel crunches under the tires of the car as Dean parks in front of the motel. After a few seconds of arguing, Sam heads inside to get us a room.

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I am starvin’! Demon killing always works up my appetite. What do ya’ want for dinner?” Dean asks, turning the car off and grabbing his jacket from the seat next to him, preparing to get out of the Impala. “Hmm?” I hadn’t been paying attention to his words, my hand pressed tightly against the wound on my side, trying to gauge just how bad it is. “Oh, I don’t know Dean, I am not that hungry.” I give him a half smile, looking him in the eyes for the first time since we left the run down and demon infested house.

His face falls quickly, looking me over, searching for any sign of injury.

“Jesus, you’re as pale as a ghost, Y/N! Are you hurt?” He throws open the drivers door and moves to climb out, surely to come over to the passenger side and look me over for himself.

“No, Dean, I am fine, I promise! Just tired, today took it out of me. I will be fine after a shower and a good nights sleep.” Dean gets distracted by Sam making his way back over to us.

“So, good and bad news. Good news is I got us a room. Bad news, they only had one room open, but there are two beds at least!” Sam says, tossing the room key onto the hood of the impala, while he walks to the trunk and pulls out his bag.

I throw open the passenger door and snatch the key off the hood of the car before Dean can. "I call first shower!" I sling the strap of my bag over my shoulder and walk as quickly as I can, to the door of the room.

The next few minutes are a blur, I manage to grab a change of clothes and the first aid kit out my bag and slip into the bathroom. Avoiding the any further contact with Sam or Dean. I curse under my breath, turning the lights on in the small, dingy space. Realizing now, just how light headed I am. I anchor myself against the sink, using my other arm to slide my flannel off my shoulders and let fall to the floor. I take a deep breath and pull my shirt off, steeling myself for what I am about to see. The sight of blood is one thing that has not gotten any easier, mine or someone else's.

The cut is deep, deeper than I thought it would be. I wince, as I pull the fabric of my shirt away from my skin, the dried blood making it an even harder task.

"Fuck." I am going to need stitches. I angle my body to the mirror, trying to get a better look. The angry, red gash stretches from the top of my hip, up to the front of my ribcage. Fresh blood begins to pool and drip from the wound, irritated from the removal of my shirt. How am I going to do this? I can do stitches, sure, but I have only ever done them for the boys. The angle that I will have to work at seems impossible at the moment.

I lean over and turn on the shower, figuring I should clean out the wound before stitching it up, plus the sound of the shower would help to cover up the gasps and whimpers I cannot seem to contain now that I am alone. I grab a seemingly clean towel, from the rack in the bathroom and press it against my side. Trying to slow the bleeding while I collect my thoughts. I am interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Y/N, I am just gonna wash my face while you shower-" Dean opens the door and sticks his head in the room. Stopping in his tracks as he sees me, a mumbled apology starts to roll off his tongue, before he freezes. His eyes trained on the towel that I have pressed to my side. I glance down and notice the red tinge that covers the part of the towel that I had already used.

"Damn it, Y/N. What happened?" He asks, slipping the rest of the way into the room and shutting the door behind him. He crosses the small space to me in a second, taking the towel from my hand and pulling it away so he can survey just how bad it is. His brow creases, as he looks closer. I can see worry etched into every inch of his face. "I'm fine De, Just a scratch." I mumble, looking away from him, not wanting to see the expression on his face any longer.

"You are as far away from fine, as that can be." He states, grabbing the first aid kit off the counter and hurriedly searching for the suture kit that we keep in all of our bags. I feel the tears that I have been holding back, begin to fall. I curse under my breath, and glance up at the ceiling, trying to hold back those tears I so desperately do not want to fall.

"I can do it myself, Dean, I don't need your help." I state, trying to take the sutures from his hand. He stops me easily, a hand wrapping around my wrist. He releases my wrist after a few long, painful seconds and looks at me.

"Stop it, I wasn't asking if you wanted or needed my help. I am doing this. Now, are we doing this the easy way, or the hard way? Because if you want to be difficult, I can go get Sammy to help. And you know he is way more dramatic than I am about these things." He states, holding the suture kit up above his head, to keep me from trying to grab it from him.

"Okay." I mumble, my voice barely more than a whisper. Dean nods, gently guiding me over to the counter, encouraging me to hop up on to the elevated surface so he can have easier access to the wound on my side.

Time passes slowly as Dean cleans the lovely gash caused by my moment of stupidity on the hunt. The tension in the small bathroom building by every passing moment. I can feel the anger and frustration radiating off of Dean in waves.

"Shit, that hurts De." I hiss as the suture pierces my skin for the first stitch of many. I hear a low apology make its way from him, his brows knit together in concentration.

"Why didn't you just tell me? Or Sam? For God's sake Y/N, this isn't just a scrape. It's deep. Judging by how pale and clammy you are, you've lost a lot of blood. If you had just told me when it happened, we could've done something about it ages ago!" He curses, grabbing a clean square of gauze to wipe away some of the fresh blood.

"I didn't want to disappoint you, it was supposed to be an easy hunt. It's my own damn fault that it happened. Plus, I didn't think it was this bad. Figured I could clean it up on my own and you'd never had been the wiser. If I had just remembered to lock the goddamn door." I shrug my shoulders, immediately regretting the motion as waves of pain ripple through my body. Nerves igniting that I didn't even know existed.

"You could never disappoint me, I am just sorry that this happened in the first place. We shouldn't have split up, you aren't stupid Y/N."

He finishes the sutures over a period of time that feels like hours, but in reality was only minutes. His touch gentle and cautious, but firm and reassuring at the same time. A combination that I didn't think possible, especially coming from the older of the two Winchesters. "Finished," He sighs, helping me down from the counter. "Do you want help showering? You need to be careful not to rip your stitches."

It takes me a moment to process what he said, his offer to help me shower a first coming from him. Our friendship had never gone past meaningless flirtation, this level of intimacy something that I wasn't prepared for coming from him.

"Uhm, no, I think I will be okay, thank you though." I say, glancing up at him with a small smile. "Are you still angry with me?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"Y/N, I was never angry." He hesitates, as if debating on if to finish what he was going to say. "I was scared. I wasn't there to protect you and you got injured. The thought of something happening to you, I just-" He pauses again, his fingers coming up to brush a strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear. The calluses on his fingers, dragging against my skin. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you, that's all." He presses a quick kiss to my forehead, then turns on his heel to head out of the bathroom.

"De, wait." I say, reaching out and grabbing his hand before he opens the door. "Could you stay, and help me wash my hair?"

#deanwinchesterblurb #deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #deanwinchesterfluff #dean x reader #spnfamily #spn #supernatural #dean winchester angst #wanderingwinchesters #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x injured reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months

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Hold Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: various times that Dean comforts you because of John.

You and Dean had a special bond. Even before Sam had gone off to college and John disappeared, the two of you had been inseparable since the day John first placed you in Dean’s arms.

He’d been just a teenager then, and you barely a toddler. But he’d flashed you a genuine smile, and you’d giggled, and from that moment on, nothing could separate you.

Dean was the one you always went to when you needed anything, partially because of how close you were and partially because you had no one else.

John was far too consumed with the big picture for you to ever feel comfortable talking about your personal problems, and while you loved Sam, he always tried to psychoanalyze your problems, which was never how you felt like dealing with them.

Dean, however…

…

“Commere baby,” Dean pulled you, his four year old little sister, into his lap, rocking you gently as you cried. John had been gone for five days, and you missed your daddy.

“Dad’s gonna be home soon, really,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you only cried harder.

“Hey, can you bring me her backpack?” Dean asked. Sam tossed it to him.

“Are you alright with her? I want to go get us some dinner,” Sam suggested, feeling bad but also desperate to get away from your crying. You’d been upset for the past couple of days, and he couldn’t take much more.

“Yeah, I’ve got her, bring me back a feast.”

After Sam was gone, Dean lifted you so you were hanging onto his neck and began to rummage through your bag. He came up with a small sippy cup, and went to the fridge to fill it with milk. After heating it up in the motel microwave, he sat back down on his bed and settled you into his lap, placing the cup into your tiny hands.

You quieted almost instantly, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking greedily.

“There you go,” Dean grinned, running his fingers through your hair. “Never too old for the warm milk, works every time, eh?”

You didn’t respond, to intent on the cup in your hands, but you leaned your head against Dean’s stomach, taking a few deep breaths as you finished your drink.

By the time Sam got back, you were fast asleep in Dean’s arms, who was softly humming Metallica.

…

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam’s words were meant to be soothing, but you just shook your head.

“Dad says it was.”

“Well he-“

“Sam, you’re with me. Y/N, ride with Dean,” John walked past his kids as he headed for his truck, and Sam reluctantly followed.

You climbed into the Impala without another word, and you rode in silence with Dean for several long minutes.

“Why are we turning?” You’d tried to avoid speaking, because you knew Dean would notice your voice thick with tears. But you couldn’t resist questioning him when he stopped following John’s truck.

“Because the Dairy Queen is this way,” Dean answered simply.

“What?”

“What, you think I didn’t notice the sniffling and the way you can’t even turn in my general direction? You ain’t subtle kid, now what kind of ice cream do you want?”

You gave up trying to hide your tear stained face and turned to look at your brother.

“I don’t get it. I screw up the hunt, and you’re buying me ice cream?”

“Ok first of all, you didn’t screw up the hunt that bad, ok? I know it was your job to reassemble the guns, and-“

“Yeah, and I lost a piece, and it didn’t work! You could’ve-“

“Hey now,” Dean’s voice rose, and you stopped. “Would you just listen? I know, but that wasn’t the only gun we had on the hunt, we were fine one gun short. Look, I’m not gonna pretend you didn’t make a mistake ok? But everyone makes mistakes, and I mean everyone. And dad went at you pretty hard, and I know how much you hate it when he yells. So ice cream it is, now are you gonna tell me what you want or should we just go?”

Five minutes later, you were on the road again, your tears forgotten as both of you belted out to Dean’s Metallica tape between bites of ice cream.

…

The mood in the motel room had been solemn, to say the least, but no one was willing to bring it up. John had passed away just days ago, and the three of you had barely spoken to each other since. Sam had tried to talk to you, mostly because he knew that every time you went to “take a walk”, you really just wanted to cry your eyes out. But the last thing you wanted to do what talk about John. He wasn’t always the best man, but he was your dad.

What made matters worse, however, was that even though Sam had tried several times to help you, Dean seemed to be avoiding you entirely. You didn’t expect him to try to talk about it, that wasn’t his style, but you also didn’t expect him to ignore your existence.

But when Sam left for a food run and the time came to confront him about it, you were nervous. What if he just needed some space? After all, he was probably the closest to John.

Well, if that was the case, then maybe you could help him this time, but you couldn’t leave things the way they were, it was too hard.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up from John’s journal, which he was reading while stretched out on his bed.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” now that the moment had come, you weren’t sure of what to say. “How’s it going?”

He sighed, gesturing at the book.

“Not great, haven’t found anything of use yet.”

You swallowed, “That’s not really what I meant. How’s it going…like with you?” You cringed inwardly. This sounded ridiculous, even to your own ears.

Dean closed the book, frowning.

“Fine.”

You sighed, “No, really.”

Dean scoffed, “Who are you, Sam? What’s going on with you?”

“I just…I wanted to know,” you shrugged.

“You and me both know that you don’t want to stand here and talk about feelings.”

“It’s better than not talking at all,” you dropped your gaze at this, too embarrassed to meet Dean’s eye. Maybe you were wrong, he hadn’t been avoiding you, he was just quiet or something.

“What do you mean? We can talk, we’re talking now.”

You gained a little bit of your courage back.

“Yeah, and this is the first time in days. Dean, you’ve barely even looked at me since…” your breath caught. You couldn’t say it, not yet.

Dean seemed to catch on that you were done, and he sighed.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re-“

“I’m not just a kid anymore!” You didn’t mean to yell, and when Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise you brought your voice down. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he cleared his throat, and found the words.

“I can’t fix this.”

“What?”

Dean put the journal down and gestured for you to get closer, so you climbed up on his bed and sat next to him.

“I can’t just buy you a treat and play Metallica and wait for you to stop crying, ok? I can’t put a bandaid on this. I can’t distract you from it, it’s too big.”

You looked up at your big brother, and his eyes looked more broken now than they did when John died.

“You wanted to fix this for me?”

“Of course,” Dean reached up and brushed a stray tear off your cheek. “That’s all I ever want to do. But baby…I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding you, you’re right. And it’s because I know I can’t make this go away.”

“You don’t have to make it go away. I don’t need an answer to all life’s problems, I just need my big brother.”

“But what do you need me to do?” He demanded desperately.

“Be here.”

You could see in his eyes that it wasn’t enough, he needed to know he was helping you. You sighed softly.

“Open your arms.”

He frowned, but obeyed. You scooted closer, depositing yourself in his lap and leaning your forehead against his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, one hand coming up to cradle your head.

“I just want this,” you whispered, and you felt Dean’s arms tighten comfortingly around you.

“Then I’m here,” he promised.

When Sam came back, tired and worn down, he felt a smile creep onto his lips when he opened to motel door to see you asleep in Dean’s arms, and it took him less than a second to recognize Dean’s humming as Metallica.

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imagining-supernatural · 2 months

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Save Us

Request: Heyyyyoooo! Could you maybe do a dean x reader where she’s always been the rock in the relationship, even tho he’s not that emotional either, but she’s just literally never upset or seems sad, but one day she has a nightmare and then that just kind of starts the ball rolling and she just kinda finally needs dean and he’s there and comforts her?

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2428

-----

“We’ll be home in about an hour,” Dean’s tired, flat voice tumbled through your phone speaker.

“Hunt didn’t go well, I take it?”

“We got the ghost,” he sighed heavily. “But not before it got some more kids.”

Years and years of being just too late definitely took a toll on hunters. Dean grew up in the life, so it was his normal. But even though he constantly said it wasn’t a big deal, or he was used to it, you knew it was a lie. He needed his downtime. He needed comfort. And beyond his need for that reassurance, he deserved it.

“I’m so sorry, babe.” It was so hard to hear him so down when you couldn’t hold him. “How’s Sam doing? Think you can convince him to take the weekend off and not look for another hunt?”

There was a low murmur on the other end of the call while Dean spoke with Sam. A moment later, you were put on speakerphone, the background noise of the car becoming louder.

“How’s your leg?” Sam asked.

“I think it’s almost all the way healed. If you keep your laptop shut for the weekend, I should be able to come on the next hunt.”

Sam chuckled. “Fine, fine. Radio silent weekend.”

With that out of the way, you said your farewells and hung up.

Your leg was perfectly fine. The fracture was healed and you’d been working out on it for the last few days while the boys finished up a two week long hunting spree across the country. But using your leg as an excuse gave Dean the space to not feel like this break was because of him. He hated being the reason you all took a few days off. He hated feeling like the weak link.

So you let him think he was doing this for you, when in all actuality, you would be spending the weekend building him back up, getting his confidence and mental strength back to their normal levels.

*****

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, his voice echoing across the warehouse. After cutting down the Djinn’s victim, you transferred her to Sam’s arms before setting off in search of your boyfriend.

The Djinn had gotten away and all three of you were feeling the disappointment and failure. But after the last few hunts had gone awry, you knew that Dean was teetering on the edge. Hell, you all were, but he took it particularly hard. He always felt responsible for everything that went wrong. And when everything went wrong for a solid four weeks in a row? Well… nothing you could say to him would be heard over the spearing self-hatred that was surely chorusing in his head right now.

“Babe?” It was probably best to announce your presence before touching him. You knew he wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose, and you could definitely handle yourself, but you’d rather not have to dodge his pent up swing and add that to his guilt that he nearly hit his girlfriend. “Hey, Dean. C’mere.”

He shook his head, hand pressed against the wall, head hung low. “He got away, Y/N. I had him right here.”

“We’ll get him, Dean.” Padding over softly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. It didn’t matter that his shirt was damp with sweat. It didn’t matter that you had blood spattered on your cheek. All that mattered was that Dean knew that you were there for him. “Maybe not tonight, but we’ll get him.”

You could hear Sam talking softly to the two victims you’d saved, but chose to stay with Dean. Sam knew what he was doing. You and he had a lot in common when it came to dealing with failure. And right now, Sam had a job, so he would be able to make it until he was alone, or until the three of you collapsed in the hotel room.

Dean however…

His breathing was slowing and heartbeat quieting under your ear. When he took one, last deep breath and straightened out, you loosened your hold around him, but didn’t let go. As soon as Dean turned around, you hugged him close again, breathing a sigh of relief when his arms surrounded you and his nose nudged into your hair, breathing deeply.

He was going to be okay.

*****

“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” you said through a stuffy nose, buried in blankets on your bed. “You two go. I’ll be fine for the weekend.”

Dean took a step forward and you held up your hand to ward him off. You didn’t want him getting sick too. “I don’t mind staying here with you, Y/N.”

“And leave Sam alone? Last time you did that, he ended up taking off for a few days to see some author read her book for hours on end. The kid needs you, Dean. Who else will pull him from his geeky ways?”

“I think my sick girlfriend needs me too.”

“All that’d do is get you sick too. I’ll just take it easy for a few days, watch some Netflix, take some baths, eat some soup… I appreciate it, Dean. But I don’t want you to get sick.”

He sighed, giving in. “Alright. Fine. But I’m gonna be checking in so often it’ll feel like I never left.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As he came closer, you knew it was pointless to try to get him to stay away. He wouldn’t leave without a kiss, even if it was just on the forehead. And, to be honest, you wouldn’t want him too. Looking up into his shining eyes, you gave him a weak smile. “Love you, Dean.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Take care.”

You watched as he closed the door behind him before you sank back down into the pillows. It wasn’t even half an hour later that your chills turned to shakes and you barely made it to the toilet before upheaving the light breakfast you’d been nibbling on. With your head in the toilet bowl, you didn’t hear the squeal of the garage door opening or the heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. It was the fingers on your head, pulling your hair back from your face that would have made you jump if you’d had the energy.

“Dean?”

“I’m here, babe.”

“What about—”

“Sam called Charlie. She’ll meet him down in Georgia. I couldn’t leave my best girl alone while she was sick, so I just ran into town for a quick supply run.” Once he had all of your hair in a messy bun in his hand, he settled onto the floor next to you. “And I don’t want to hear anything about me getting sick.”

“’m glad you’re here.” Getting through a cold alone wasn’t a big deal. But when it suddenly became the flu?

The porcelain of the toilet was cold against your cheek; a stark contrast to the heat in your cheek. For nearly fifteen minutes, you sat there on the floor with Dean’s fingers tangled in your hair. When you puked all you had left to puke, you sat back against the wall with a sheen of sweat across your forehead. “Why can I keep fighting after literally getting shot in the leg, but a stupid virus knocks me out?”

Dean chuckled beside you, reaching up to fill a cup with water. “As badass as you are, sweetheart, you’re still human. Here, swish and spit.”

Just the slight movement it took to sit up and spit into the toilet upset your fragile equilibrium and triggered more dry heaving.

It was going to be a long few days.

*****

“Dean! Over there!” you shouted, pointing at the ghost that appeared behind Sam, who immediately dropped so Dean could shoot the phantom with rock salt.

Once the ghost disappeared momentarily, Sam resumed digging the grave. The pile of dirt seemed to grow and grow and grow, but the hole didn’t get any deeper. “Sam, hurry up!!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he gritted out, throwing another shovel of dirt on the pile that was now nearly as tall as him.

Three small kids ran out from behind the dirt pile just as your breaths started coming out in cloudy puffs. It seemed like your body was paralyzed. You tried to run to the kids, but couldn’t move as the ghost advanced on them instead. Desperate, you called out to Dean, trying to get him to shoot rock salt at the ghost for a brief reprieve.

But he didn’t respond.

“Dean!” You tried calling out again, again receiving no response.

The tell-tale sound of a shovel hitting a casket pulled you from your paralysis and you found that you could move again. Hinges creaked and you looked down in the hole that seemed to be a mile deep as Sam opened the casket. “Toss me the fuel and salt, Y/N!”

The fuel… the fuel… where the hell is the fuel? You looked all around you for the duffle bag that you swore was right next to you just moments ago only to see a patch of grass. The green grass shriveled into dusty brown specks before your eyes.

“Y/N!” Sam’s shout came again, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the grass particles that were carried away by the wind.

Suddenly, the three kids were right in front of you. Blood dripped down their faces and they spoke in concert: “You didn’t save us. Why didn’t you save us, Y/N?”

“No… no!” Backing away from the awful scene, you tripped and fell backwards, arms reeling as the grave Sam had just dug stretched into a seemingly never-ending fun house mirror effect. Children’s faces watched you from behind the mirrors, angry frowns morphing into chilling grins, damning you for your failures. Their deaths were on you. Further and further you fell, some unknown force pulling you towards purgatory.

Then you were standing in an old motel room. You gasped for air, doubling over. Equilibrium should have returned, but it was as if you were on a merry-go-round and the world wouldn’t stop tilting.

“Y/N.” Dean’s voice normally grounded you. But now? His deep rasp reached into your body and gripped your throat. Your air supply was cut off so suddenly that you couldn’t even gasp for breath. Those green eyes you loved so much glared daggers at you. “They died because of you. It’s all your fault.”

*****

“Stop it!” You shouted, waking yourself.

Dean’s head shot up from where he was bent over a laptop on the desk. “Whoa, Y/N.” As your chest heaved, struggling for breath, Dean hurried over. He immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Baby, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”

You shook your head. “No, no it’s–” You cut yourself off and forced a deep breath in. Sure, the events were a dream, but the words? They were true. They were true, and they caught up to you. You’d spent so long shoving aside reality and focusing on the brothers and what they needed. What Dean needed.

Dean.

He didn’t need to deal with this. As soon as you could, you would fortify yourself again and push it all away. You’d be back to good again.

Another deep breath and you shook your head again, this time to clear your mind. “Just a dream,” you whispered, repeating his words. “Just a dream.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just a dream.”

You focused on Dean’s hand moving over your arm, drawing comfort from the familiar action. When you felt calm enough, you looked up at Dean, intending to thank him. But he took one look at your eyes and his brow furrowed.

“Sweetheart?”

“It was just a dream, Dean. I’m fine. I just… It’s the life, right?”

Calloused fingers trailed down your cheek and Dean brought his forehead to hers. “Sure, sweetheart. But that doesn’t mean nightmares don’t get to us.”

“They don’t get to you,” you whispered.

He sighed, breath disturbing the air between them. “Baby, they do. But I’ve got you. I get to wake up next to you and I remember that whatever the hell I’ve gone through and whatever I’ve fucked up in my life, somehow I’ve managed to do something right enough that you love me.”

“I do love you,” you murmured.

“Whatever your nightmare was about, whatever was said… Baby that’s not real. I love you. And that’s fucking real.”

For a long moment you sat in silence, just taking in the warmth and affection from Dean. Then you cracked a timid smile, taking the first step out of the tailspin that the dream had sent you into. “Since when do you say such pretty words, Dean Winchester?”

“Since the day I fell in love with you. And every damn day that I get to stand by your side and hold your hand and feel how much you love me.” His thumb traced over your cheek bone, drawing your eyes to his. “I don’t need to know the details about your dream. But if I can manage to deserve someone as amazing as you in my life after the shit I’ve done, then you sure as hell deserve sainthood just for putting up with me, not to mention for all of the people you’ve saved.”

“I didn’t save them all, Dean.” Your eyes fell from his as the kids’ faces from your dream flickered across the sheets in front of you.

“Baby, we couldn’t save them all. We tried every damn thing we could. Sometimes, it just isn’t possible.” Dean brushed his lips across your cheek. “You taught me that. Guess it was past time that you got that reminder, huh?”

You gave in and leaned against him, physically and mentally. “Pretty words from a pretty face. How did I get so lucky to have such a great boyfriend?”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiled. “Cause I think those pretty words came from your pretty face first, sweetheart.”

His nose nudged yours moments before a soft kiss was brushed across your lips like a paintbrush feathering a sunset onto a canvas. The rumble of thunder in Dean’s voice settled you like a comforting weighted blanket. “‘sides, sweetheart… you saved me the moment I met you. If you can save a bastard like me, anything that tells you that you failed can shove it.”

Eyes shining, you fell into his eyes. “We saved each other, Dean.”

“Damn right, we did.”

#dean x reader #dean x reader fluff #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction

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literallylexa · 3 months

Text

DEAN X READER:

FOREVER AFTER ALL

IMAGINE SMUT

Imagine: You die and your life flashes before your eyes, how you met Dean Winchester. You wait for Dean to finally arrive in heaven. CONTAINS SMUT

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

BEFORE:

Scenes of your past flash before your eyes as you lay dying. The first time you met Dean Winchester you had already fallen in love with him.

“Hello this is my partner Agent Smith and I am also Agent Smith..uh no correlation.” Dean smiles at you. “We are following up on a missing persons case. Your friend, or uh roommate?”

The night before you had come home to your friend slaughtered. Fingers chopped off and a slit neck. “Yes, how can I help you?” You ask, a sad tone in your voice.

“Did your friend have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her?” Dean asks.

“No. She was a very friendly person. However…I don’t know you might think I’m crazy but the nights leading up to her..murder.” You choke, “She was saying that she saw her ex boyfriend. But he’s been dead for almost 2 months now.”

“What was the name of her ex?”

••

You’re stuck in a salt circle. The ghost trying to get through to kill you. You clutch onto Dean’s jacket tightly, legs shaking. Even though you’ve only known him for a day, you trusted him. He was strong, handsome, confident, and comforting. “I got you. Nothing will happen to you. Sammy should be done any moment now.” Dean looks down at you with a soft smile. His green eyes making contact with yours, making you blush. The next second, the ghost burns away into thin air. Everything was quiet. You hug Dean, standing on your tippy toes to reach his neck. His thick, muscular arms wrapping around your small frame, holding your waist.

Sam and Dean leave town after that. “So ghosts, vampires, and just monsters are real, huh?” You ask Dean.

“Unfortunately…But hey, here’s my number. In case you see or hear anything. Call me immediately.” Dean grabs your phone and puts his number in. You blush even harder. “You can’t stay for longer?” You ask Dean, hope gleaming in your eyes.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but no. We gotta hit the road. Take care of yourself okay?”

You grab Dean by his shirt and pull him down to your lips. He’s taken by surprise by your actions, but ultimately pulls you in closer, grabbing your hips and grinds against his. His lips are soft and wet, crashing against yours you feel out of breath. “For the road.” You say breaking apart, face hot and red. Dean bites his lips and says goodbye, getting into Baby and driving away.

••

After that encounter, you started to hunt on your own, mostly giving hunters tips of locations and the possible supernatural creatures. “Glad you could make it.” You say to Dean. “You called, I answered.” He chuckles. You guys hug, you take a deep breath. It feels like the whole in your heart was filled again. Excitement, love, and arousal filled your body. Dean was the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. Not to mention having an amazing personality too. If only he wasn’t a hunter, maybe you’d have a chance to actually be together. His eyes linger for a little bit too long on your lips and breasts. As you walk in front of him to your apartment you can feel him staring at your ass too. “You want a beer?” You ask opening the fridge. “Always.” Dean looks around your apartment, picking up old pictures of you and your deceased dog. The room is silent, however the sexual tension between you two did not go unnoticed.

“So!” You exclaim tapping the table top. “What have you been up to?”

Dean takes a gulp of his beer and sets it down. “Oh you know the same old stuff. Hunting.”

“Speaking of hunting. Thats why I called you here. I’m pretty sure a demon is possessing my neighbor.” You say quickly, trying not to make the conversation even more awkward than it already is.

“What?!” Dean yells, walking over to you. “Nah uh you’re not about to have a demon next door. Pack up your things, we are staying at a motel until we get this figured out.”

••

Unfortunately for the bed, but fortunately for you, the motel only had one bed- no couch. “We can just share the bed.” You say sheepishly. Dean smirks, “There’s a lot of things we can share on the bed.” You giggle and punch his shoulder. He’s not lying though. There’s many things that you’d like to share with him on that bed. Many things.

You and Dean end up exorcising the demon. Luckily the person was still alive, you call the ambulance to have them picked up. “Good job back there.” Dean says, looking at you up and down.

You know that things would never get that far with Dean, but it didn’t stop you from being so incredibly attracted to him. Maybe he felt the same way. Dean steps closer to you, lifting up your chin to look at him, brushing hair out of your face. He crashes his lips against yours, picking you up and setting you on the counter. With your legs wrapped around his waist, he grinds up against you. Dean groans from the friction, a bulge growing in his pants. His hands run up and down your body, caressing your curves. He finds his way under your shirt, massaging your breasts. You moan from his touch, oh very badly did you crave it. You unbutton your shirt and he grins, taking your bra off exposing your breasts, the coldness of the room hardening your nipples. Dean licks his lips and begins to take one nipple in his mouth, kissing, licking, and biting it while his hand twists and massages the other. You put a hand through his soft short hair, needing more of him. You tug at his flannel to take it off. He obliges, removing his flannel and shirt, leaving you both naked from the waist up. “You’re beautiful.” Dean says in between kisses.

“Want to take this to the bedroom?” You ask Dean. He picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. He lays you gently down on the bed, he kisses from your breasts down to your belly, stopping at the hem of your pants. He unbuttons them, lifting your legs up to take them off. “You’re already soaking wet for me baby.” Dean groans, seeing your wet panties. He takes them off greedily, drooling at the sight of your pussy. His stubble brushes across your inner thighs as he begins to lick at your folds. You gasp when he sticks his warm tongue inside you. “(Y/N) you taste so good.” Dean says. He continues to tongue fuck you until the point you can’t take it anymore. However, before you can orgasm he stops. He couldn’t handle anymore foreplay. He needs his cock to be inside of you. He begins to unbutton his pants and you wait in anticipation to see what he’s been hiding. His cock pops out from his boxes, already leaking pre cum from his long dick. You squirm, desperately needing him inside you. “Please Dean.” You cry. “Not yet. You need to get it wet first.” Dean manages to say. He helps you sit up facing his cock. He strokes it a couple times, massaging his balls in the process. You grab his cock and lick him from the base to the tip, swirling it around on your tongue. Then, slowly putting the tip in your mouth, down the shaft, to the base of his large cock, getting use to the length. Dean moans almost embarrassingly loud, twitching at your movements. You lick up and down his long cock, tasting every inch of him. His balls were hanging low, you get off the bed and onto your knees, you grab his balls and put them both in your mouth, his dick hitting your forehead has you do so. Dean grips your hair into a ponytail, moaning out your name. “Fuck (Y/N).” Dean groans, then throwing you onto the bed, your ass facing him. Before you both even have time to think about putting on a condom, his dick rubs against your pussy lips becoming slippery. “Please fuck me Dean!” You cry out, becoming sexually frustrated, you need him inside you.

He slowly slides his cock into your pussy, “Baby you’re so tight.” You feel every inch of Dean as he slides into you, taking his length in full. With your pussy already leaking wet, Dean starts off with a slow pace, grabbing you by the hips, getting a rhythm. He is already hitting all the sweet spots, something no other man could do for you. “Dean you feel so good inside me.” You moan out, clutching the blankets beneath you. Dean had already wanted to cum the second he went inside you, so nice and tight, so wet for him. He speeds up his rhythm, slamming his cock deep inside your pussy, making you cream all over his cock. Your moans, screams, skin slapping, and the wetness from your pussy fill the air as he ruthlessly fucks you.

Dean pushes your head down onto the bed, grabbing your ass and smacking it leaving red hand marks. Dean has never been this horny in his life before, you are just so irresistible to him. Dean was in a trance by hearing your moans for him, taking all of his dick inside your pussy. “You’re taking my cock so good baby.” Dean moans out, feeling like he’s going to cum soon. Dean stops and pulls out, turning you over on your back, legs up in the air resting on his shoulders. Once again he slams into you, filling you up whole. He leaves lingering kisses along your breasts and neck as you moan out his name. Dean didn’t want this to end, he could go all night with you, and you could do the same. “Fuck I’m about to cum!” Dean yells, pulling out and squirting his hot cum all over your pussy lips. You giggle looking down at his mess. You’re still horny, needing to cum. You start to play with your clit, massaging his hot cum all over your pussy lips. Dean gasps as he sees you doing so, gently sticking one finger inside you as you play with your clit. You moan out as he rubs your g-spot, adding in another finger as he continues. This was all too much for you to handle, after a couple minutes of doing so, you cream all over his fingers and he gladly licks it off his fingers.

The night continues of you and Dean not getting enough of each other, fucking and cumming until you fall asleep for the night.

••

After that night, Dean invited you to stay at the bunker with Sam and him. Sometimes Cas showed up. “I just want to keep you safe.” Dean admits. You’ve known each other for a couple years now, texting back and forth and exchanging phone calls and stories, occasionally seeing each other once a month or so. You pack up all your things and move into the bunker with the boys. You and Dean end up being official a couple weeks after that. You buy new furniture and decor for the boys room, “Trying to make it more homey.” You say.

Life seemed to be almost perfect. Until one faithful day.

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

NOW:

“Dean!” You scream out, the demon grabbing you by the neck, choking you.

“Let her go, now.” Dean spits, raising a gun.

The demon stabs your gut, letting you fall to the ground. “I let her go.” The demon snickers.

By the time Dean gets over to you and the demon, they vanish. Dean holds you as you lay dying. “No baby please stay with me.” Dean says in desperation.

“I love you, Dean.” You choke out, blood flowing down your face. Your eyes meet his for one last time, and then you see bright white.

••

“I can’t leave.” You say to the reaper, looking at Dean as he’s sobbing over your body. “It’s too early, we didn’t get to spend our life together. We didn’t get out the life, we didn’t have any children or animals together.” You cry, a pain in your heart, too unbearable to deal with anymore.

“You know what will happen if you stay.” The reaper puts a cold hand on your sunken shoulders. “All those angry spirits you hunt, you will become one.”

“Will I see him again, wherever I go?” You ask.

“I can’t tell you that.” The reaper smiles, “It’s okay to go.”

You leave Dean a cold kiss on his forehead, he looks up shocked. “(Y/N)?” He says, looking around. He could feel your presence.

“Goodbye, Dean.” You say as you walk through the light.

••

Heaven. On the other side it’s beautiful. Mountains covered with large pine trees. A river flows underneath a bridge. The echoing of birds chirping fill the air. A small house, perfect as you could ever imagined lives on the top of the hill, watching over the river. You enter it, pictures of your family, friends, and Dean hang on the walls. Tears fills your eyes, you miss Dean. A knock at the door brings you back to your senses. You open the door, revealing John and Mary Winchester. Both smiling as they hold housewarming gifts. You’ve never met either of them before, but they seemed to know who you were, as they were always watching over Dean.

“Dean will be here soon.” Mary comforts you, placing a gentle hand on your back.

••

You spend the next couple weeks doing the things you love the most. Cooking all your favorite foods, swimming in the always warm water, drinking your favorite liquor. Everyone’s heaven is together. Sometimes you’d go up to the Winchesters house and have dinner, sometimes you’d go fishing with Bobby. Ellen and Joe were there sometimes too; along with all the other hunters you’ve lost along the way.

One day, you were walking down to the lake as you always do. Towel and a book in hand. From afar you notice a tall figure, you immediately knew who it was. “Dean!” You scream out, dropping everything and run to him. He turns around in shock, running towards you also. He picks you up and twirls you around, pulling you in for a long kiss after. Tears flow down Dean’s face as he looks at you. “I love you too.” Dean cries, brushing your hair out of your face, finding it hard to be real that he’s able to see your beautiful self again. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You say, pressing your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. Your heart felt full again. You and Dean take hands and walk up the hill to the bridge, there sits Baby parked. Dean squeals in excitement, immediately jumping in the drivers seat. You laugh and get into the passengers seat. “Head up to that house over there. I have a surprise for you.” You say. Dean obliges.

You knock at the Winchesters door. Mary answers. “Mom?!” Dean cries, hugging her. John walks up too, pulling Dean into an embrace. “We are just waiting for Sam now.” You say to Dean. “Time will go by fast.”

Eventually Sam joins everyone in heaven. Everything was complete. You and Dean had your own house, and got married. Dean enjoys mowing the lawn while you tend to the garden. On the weekends you guys host BBQ’s with all of your friends and family in heaven.

Maybe somethings last forever after all.

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

“A cold beer's got twelve ounces

A good truck's got maybe three hundred thousand

You only get so much until it's gone

Duracells in a Maglite

A needle drop on a forty-five

Are the kinda things that only last so long

When the new wears off and they get to getting old

Sooner or later, time's gonna take its toll

They say nothing lasts forever

But they ain't seen us together

Or the way the moonlight dances in your eyes

Just a t-shirt in the kitchen

With no make-up and a million

Other things that I could look at my whole life

A love like that makes a man have second thoughts

Maybe some things last forever after all

FM station on the outskirts

Blue jeans after years of shift work

All fading out like I always knew they would

The strings on this guitar

The first love lost on a young heart

Those things are gonna break after the getting's good

'Cause the new wears off and they get to getting old

Yeah, sooner or later, time's gonna take its toll

They say nothing lasts forever

But they ain't seen us together

Or the way the moonlight dances in your eyes

Just a t-shirt in the kitchen

With no make-up and a million

Other things that I could look at my whole life

A love like that makes a man have second thoughts

Maybe some things last forever after all

They say nothing lasts forever

But they ain't seen us together

Or the way the moonlight dances in your eyes

And I know there'll be that moment

The good Lord calls one of us home and

One won't have the other by their side

But heaven knows that that won't last too long

Maybe some things last forever after all”

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

AUTHORS NOTE: I will never forgive SPN writers making that ending so rushed and short. I would have absolutely LOVED for Sam and Dean to see their parents again, Bobby, and just everyone that they’ve lost in heaven together. I wish they would have had an episode “feel good” episode of just everyone being happy in heaven, throwing parties and bbq’s, and just drinking until they’re too drunk. Let me know how you think SPN should have ended!

#Spotify #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #deanwinchtser #smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn #dean x reader smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #spn smut #spn imagine #spn one shot

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reigningqueenofwords · 4 days

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Since Day One

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 2,848 Request: @feelmyroarrrrr Request- dean x reader, making pumpkin pie as he’s had a rough time, (and an apple one as he’ll bitch if there’s not one of those) and taking him on a picnic with blankets and warm spiced cider to drink.

Read on AO3

Dean had been your best friend since the moment you’d met the green eyed hunter. You were 18, and your older sister had just gone off to study abroad. He was 22, and Sam had just left for Stanford. Both of you feeling abandoned by a sibling. He had happened to be walking by the park you were at, and stopped to talk to you.

Sitting on the swing, your hood was up, your hands gripped the two chains, and your eyes were on your feet. You kicked the ground below slightly, watching the mulch move from the impact. “Hey, you alright, kid?” His voice rang out over the empty park. It was just about dusk, and you were the only one there.

You looked up and raised an eyebrow. “No, and I’m not a kid.” You shot back, your eyes traveling back to your feet.

“Ouch.” He chuckled, and you heard the metal fence move. When you looked up, you could tell that it’s because he’d jumped it and was walking towards you. “Name’s Dean.” He smiled, his hands deep in his pockets. “What’s yours?”

Chewing on your lip, you thought about whether or not you should tell him. “Y/N.” You told him softly, completely unaware how important he would become to you.

Now, here you were. Living in the bunker with your best friend, and his giant of a brother. It had taken a bit to get used to it being the three of you in the start, but once that passed, it was (mostly) smooth sailing.

Lately, you’d noticed that something had been off with Dean, and you were worried. You’d tried to talk to him, but he’d shut you out when it came to that. It hurt, because you had always told each other everything.

Each day, it seemed things just got worse for him- not leaving his room for hours at a time, leaving a room when you’d come in, or not saying a word all day. Finally, at the turn of the first week, you decided to take action. You’d first need Sam’s help, and for that, you had to hunt him down. For someone so large, the man was very quiet on his feet. It was slightly unnerving.

You moved through the bunker, knowing that Dean was still in his room, as you could hear his music. Which benefited you, as you wouldn’t have to try to make something up as to why you were looking for Sam.

Sam was coming out of the bathroom in a towel when you spotted him. “Why don’t either of you ever bring your clothes with you to the bathroom?” You teased, making him chuckle. “I’m sorry, Sam, I’m just not into you.” He laughed even harder at that, making you grin.

“You caught me. I just want to force you to look at me half naked. I’m sorry you’re forced to deal with such a sight.” Sam teased back, a hand on his chest in mock hurt.

Rolling your eyes, you put your hand on your chest. “Whatever shall I do?!” You laughed. “Anyways, I was looking for you. I need your assistance.”

Sam motioned for you to walk with him in the direction of his room. “What’s up?” He asked, sounding a bit worried.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed how Dean has been extra sulky lately, right?” You asked, earning a nod. “He won’t talk to me.”

“Really?” He asked as he furrowed his brows. “He tells you…everything. Even when you threaten to rip his vocal chords out.”

You nodded. “Exactly. The man enjoys making me cringe. Anyways! Back to the topic at hand. I need you to get him out of the bunker for a day or two.” You told him. “I want to make him a couple pies, and a nice fall picnic. When you get back, I’ll drag him off and you can have some peace and quiet.”

Sam thought it over, giving you a small smile. “I want to help, but how am I supposed to get him out of the bunker?”

When you grinned, and he knew that you had that covered. “I found a simple salt and burn, however, if you word things just right, it’ll seem like more.” You told him, amused. “You can shoot me a text when you’re on your way back. The ‘hunt’ is about 6 hours away. I plan to clean up a bit, get some shopping done, and make sure I have everything I need. Please! I hate seeing my best friend like this!” You pouted.

“Best friend. Yeah, I’m sure.” He smirked knowingly, earning a look from you. “I’m not blind, Y/N/N. But, yes, I will do this.”

You hugged him quickly, pecking his cheek. “Thank you! You’re amazing.”

“What the hell?” Dean muttered from his door as he had walked out just as you hugged Sam. His green eyes looked between the two of you, confused.

“I found a hunt, but I’m not really feeling up to it. He said that you two could go.” You told him with a small smile, hoping he didn’t try to get out of it.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You okay? Are you sick?” He moved out of his room, into the hall, as Sam went into his own room.

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I think I’d just like some me time.” You shrugged, which technically wasn’t a lie. “Maybe relax some, read…I dunno.”

“You want us to call someone else in? Spend some time in or something?” He asked, not wanting you to get worn down.

“Dean- I love you, but it’s called ‘me time’ for a reason.” You teased, patting his cheek. Walking away, you let out a soft sigh. You hoped that when he was back, and saw what you’d done, that he wouldn’t be upset for you fibbing a bit.

He watched you walk away, shaking his head before heading back into his room to throw a few things into a bag. While he didn’t want to go on this damn hunt, if it meant giving you a bit of space, he’d do it. You were the entire reason he’d been having such a rough time lately, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Monsters, demons, and fucking, yeah. You? Not even close. It was also the reason he shut you down every time you’d try to talk to him. He was just glad that it wasn’t upsetting you.

The boys left after breakfast the next morning. You’d made pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns. Sam had chuckled and shot you a look, but you simply stuck your tongue out at him and told him to suck it up. And you may have called him ‘buttercup’, making Dean crack up. A sound that you’d missed.hashbrowns. Sam had chuckled and shot you a look, but you simply stuck your tongue out at him and told him to suck it up. And you may have called him ‘buttercup’, making Dean crack up. A sound that you’d missed.

During breakfast, nothing about hunting was brought up. You didn’t know if that was on purpose or not, but you enjoyed it. It was a nice send off for them, starting their day out right.

After you’d eaten, you hugged them each, but kept Sam back for a minute as Dean made his way out to the car. “Is there anything you’d like me to make for when you’d get back? I mean, I’m taking him on a picnic with pie. Kinda not fair to shove you two on a hunt and not make it up to you.” You’d feel bad about it.

Sam smiled and shook his head. “If this helps him get out of this mood, and makes you happy, it’s worth it.” He shrugged, once again being one of the most selfless men you knew. Grabbing his bag, he turned to go before stopping. Facing you, he smirked. “But, I wouldn’t say no to some premade frozen smoothies…” He chuckled.

“Hint taken.” You smiled, waving before he left. Letting out a breath, you decided cleaning was the best place to start. As soon as you’d pulled your hair up in a loose ponytail, you figured laundry was a good place to kick this off. That way, as the first load was in the washer, you could be doing something else. You wanted to get as much done as you could.

They’d only been driving about half an hour when Dean spoke up, looking over at Sam for a second. “Are you and Y/N seeing each other?” He asked, his jaw tight.

Sam’s head whipped around, staring at Dean. His brows were furrowed, not missing the tone of Dean’s voice. “What?” He chuckled lightly. “Why would you even think that?” His mind tried to come up with some reason that his brother would ask that. It wasn’t like you and him were any closer than you and Dean. Far from it.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I come out of my room and you two are hugging while you’re only wearing a towel, and then she lied to me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why she would, though. She’s never lied to me. And don’t tell me that she didn’t. I know my best friend, and something was off.” He glanced at him again. “And her holding you back after breakfast?”

“I’m going on the hunt, too, Dean.” He pointed out. “If I were seeing her, don’t you think that I’d try to stay back, too…?” That right there should have told Dean that he was imagining things. “I doubt she lied to you. Maybe she just left something out?” He shrugged, trying to play buffer in all this. “She was asking if I wanted anything when she goes shopping, Dean.” Nothing even remotely romantic with that. “No need to ask you. She knows you better than you do most of the time.”

The thought was bothering him, and he could tell Sam knew something, and wouldn’t tell you what was going on. Dean figured he’d call you later and try to talk to you. “I love her, Sammy.” He said quietly, shocking Sam further. That was not something he’d expected to hear on this trip. “I just wish I didn’t.” He added on. Sam looked at his brother with a sad smile before letting the subject drop.

When Dean called that night, you didn’t answer, making him furrow his brows. “Now she’s ignoring me!” He spat when he walked back in the motel room.

“What?” Sam asked, looking up from his laptop.

Dean flopped back on the other bed. “I called to talk to her, and she wouldn’t pick up.” He had a feeling that her ‘me’ time was just wanting away from him, and it killed him. “Maybe she got tired of me not talking to her and decided to ignore me?” That didn’t sound like you, but he wouldn’t blame you.

Grabbing his phone, he pulled your name up and called you. After a few rings, you picked up. “Hey, Y/N/N.” He smiled, shrugging at Dean, who looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Dean just called you.”

You sighed. “I know, I just missed his call. I didn’t hear my phone until the last ring.” You admitted. “I was cleaning, I had the music on, the washing machine, the dryer, the dishwasher…” He laughed, shaking his head. “How was the drive?”

“It was alright. Just another 6 hours stuck in the car with my brother.” He smirked when Dean shot him a look.

Laughing, you were glad that Dean had Sam in his life. “But, I’m beat. I’ve been on the move since you guys left. I’m taking a hot shower and passing out.” You told him.

Sam nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “Don’t wear yourself out. Night.” He said before you both hung up.

“See, she’s fucking ignoring me!”

“She didn’t hear the phone ring until the last one. She’s taking a damn shower and going to bed. Stop whining.” Sam shook his head, making Dean glare at him. “You’re over there pouting like your middle school crush is doodling some other kid’s name on her notebook.” He chuckled.

By the time they got back, you were excited. The picnic was packed, you’d made Sam a nice lunch and put it on the table under an upside down bowl, and were now waiting near the front door. Watching the leaves move, your hands were in your pockets, and you were leaning against the old building.

Seeing the Impala pull up, you grinned. Both boys slid out and Dean sighed. “Get back in!” You smiled at him, making him look between you and Sam.

“Why?” He asked, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms over his chest.

Your smile faltered slightly. Holding up the basket, your cheeks tinted pink. “I made us a picnic.” You said gently.

His face softened and he gave you a small smile. “Come on, sweetheart.” He got back in, starting Baby right back up.

As you passed Sam, you kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Sam. There’s lunch waiting for you on the table.”

“Thanks. Good luck.” He grinned before you both went your own way.

A few minutes after you left, he gave you a sad smile. “Sorry I got kinda pissy.” He told you, his voice barely heard over the roar of the engine.

“You’ve been having a rough couple weeks, I get it.” You smiled. “That’s why I made us a picnic.”

He looked over at you for a minute as you were looking out the window. Dean smiled before his eyes were back on the road. “I asked Sammy if you two were seeing each other.” He admitted.

You stared at him, amused and shocked. “You think I would date Sammy?!” You chuckled. “Dean…no.” You grinned.

“Hey! It was an honest question.” He defended himself. “I saw you hugging him when all he was wearing was a damn towel, telling him that he’s amazing. Then I could tell you were lying about the ‘me’ time, and then holding him back after breakfast.” His voice got lower as he spoke, until he was almost mumbling.

“The entire time you were gone? I was doing things for you guys.” You told him. He looked surprised. “I did some shopping, made Sammy 10 days worth of pre bagged smoothie ingredients, did all the laundry, made him lunch, and made us the picnic.”

The two of you enjoyed the drive in silence, neither uncomfortable with it. Dean pulled into the field that you wanted to go to and killed the engine. He grabbed the basket from the back and you started heading into the grass to find the perfect spot. Once you stopped, you turned and smiled at him. “Here’s good.” Dean set the basket down and went to sit, but stopped when you didn’t. Instead, you lifted the lid just enough to pull out a blanket. Chuckling, he moved to help you get it on the ground. “Good thinking.” He grinned as you both sat.

“It gets better.” You told him opening the lid, making it so he couldn’t peek. First, you pulled out an ice cold root beer and handed it to him, before grabbing your cream soda. Next, you pulled out a sub that you made for you to share, some chips, and napkins. “Close your eyes.” You laughed at his expression. “Please! I worked really hard on the last part.” You half whined.

“Fine, fine.” He sighed dramatically, doing as you asked.

Appeased, you pulled out two pies- one apple, and one pecan. Lastly, you pulled out a thermos that was full of hot apple cider. “Open!” You had your hands clasped together, your chin resting on your knuckles as you bit your lip. His eyes lit up as he saw the pies. “Apple, pecan, and hot apple cider.” You told him.

His green eyes went to you. “This is why you wanted us out of the house?” He asked.

You nodded. “I hated seeing you so upset.” You shrugged. “You wouldn’t talk to me, so I was hoping this would help whatever was bothering you.” Your cheeks turned a dark pink as you played with the hem of your shirt.

Dean swallowed. “You.” You looked at him, silently asking for an explanation. “I love you, okay?!” His voice was louder than he had intended, making you giggle slightly. “I didn’t know what to do. I wish I didn’t, you deserve better! You’re my best friend, for fuck’s sake!” He was about to start rambling, and you knew it. “I didn’t thi–”

Leaning over, you pulled the front of his shirt, making his lips meet yours for a moment. “I love you, too, you dork.” You grinned at the goofy, happy look on his face. “Now eat your sub so you can have some pie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, pleasantly surprised where this had gone.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Bear in mind, season 2 aired/took place circa 2006, so references like iPods are going to be dated lol.

Word Count: 5,500 Warnings: M-rated chapter ahead—18+ only! Angst, smut, fluff, and feels. Oh yeah, and kidnapping.

Part 10: Worthy

In the months after John Winchester’s death, Sam and Dean spent even more time on the road than before. Hunting down the demon, as well as trying to find the Colt.

You helped them the best you could with research on their various cases. However, now that you had been promoted to Library Curator at the museum, you had even more access to scholarly research and ancient texts, but even less time on your hands.

If you were honest (and you weren’t), it was getting harder to balance your real job and Sam and Dean’s requests. But you knew if you said so, Dean would never ask you for help again. At the end of the day, it kept you connected to them. And you liked helping out.

The next time the brothers came home marked a few months shy of two years since you’d met Dean. When they were a day’s drive away, he called you to ask you something he’d never asked before…

He wanted to take you out to dinner.

You had cooked for him before. He had cooked for you. You two had ordered in and gone to grab dinner with Sam in tow. But in almost two years, you and Dean had never gone on an actual dinner date, getting dressed up, just the two of you.

Needless to say, you were very excited…but you also had no idea what to wear.

Dean had seen you in the professional blouses, slacks, and skirts you wore for work. He’d seen you in ratty old college shirts and yoga pants while slurping ramen noodles from a plastic cup. He’d also seen you in nothing but one of his old buttoned-down shirts, and then, in nothing at all.

But he’d never seen you dressed to kill. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t pull it off, because you most certainly could. It had just…been a while.

So you dove into the shadowy recesses of your closet and searched for something you knew he hadn’t seen before. And you might’ve gone to the mall and bought a couple new pieces of lingerie, just in case the night went really well.

You were grateful Dean gave you a full day’s notice. It gave you the time to mentally prepare, but you still had to call him again to verify a few things.

“Okay, but where are we going?” you asked. “Casual dressy or dressy, dressy?”

Dean chuckled. “I have no idea what that means.”

He sounded tired to you, but the playful note in his voice still made you smile.

“It means just tell me where we’re going,” you said with a laugh.

“Nope,” he refused. “But here’s what I can do for you. I’ll be leaving the leather jacket at home this time.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s something, at least. Man, you really are the worst with these little guessing games.”

“I think you mean the best,” he joked. “Remember, I’ll be there by seven tomorrow.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was still laughing when you hung up on him. You now had a plan though.

The next day was a Friday. You were able to get off work right at five, but that still only gave you two hours to shower and fix yourself up. Not nearly enough time, you lamented, but you made it work.

Your dad, blessedly, was working late again. So you had the house to yourself as you played your music loudly and danced to the beat while you finished up your makeup.

Then around seven, a knock sounded at the front door. Wow, he’s actually on time.

You swallowed a small swell of nerves in your throat. Stop being silly, you told yourself. And you were careful in your heels on your way down the stairs. You checked yourself real quick in the mirror, just to make sure your hair and everything else was in place. Then you looked into the door’s peephole.

With a smile, you unlocked and opened the door. Dean was there to greet you with a familiar grin, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of you. You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame.

“We’re all stocked up on Girl Scout cookies, thanks,” you teased. Dean’s grin kicked up into a smirk.

“I’m not here to sell you anything, sweetheart,” he said. His hot gaze took you in—from your softly curled hair to your dark red lipstick, to the black suede dress that clung to your every curve and fell to mid-thigh, and finally down to your scarlet red heels. Then his eyes traveled all the way back up to yours.

“But I’ll bet you could get me to sell my soul with just those heels,” he said.

Your brain stuttered to a halt. You couldn’t help but blush at the flirtatious depths in his voice, overlayed with a fine layer of charm. It didn’t take much for Dean to turn it on, but when he did, you could guess how many panty-dropping one liners he’d had in his arsenal before he met you.

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself. True to his word, he’d forgone his typical leather jacket (though you were fond of it) for a solid black jacket. He’d paired it with a charcoal gray button-down and some dark wash jeans. (You suspected that Sam had given some pointers for this ensemble.)

His familiar pendant still hung from his neck though, along with his mom’s ring on his right hand. He was still Dean, but he looked good enough to eat.

His smirk deepened, and you realized he’d likely heard that thought.

Damn it.

You hadn’t seen him in a long time, so you forgot you’d have to pull your thoughts back from the soul bond sometimes. Right now though, it was all you could do to stop from dragging him into the house and kissing him senseless.

Dean shook you out of your thoughts when his hands found the curve of your waist. You looked up at him, holding onto the edges of his jacket.

“Sam’s not joining us for dinner?” you asked innocently, while knowing full well he wasn’t. Dean leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek, down to your neck where he caught the pleasant, sexy scent of your perfume. He felt you shudder a bit at the sensation of his lips across your skin.

“Nope. It’s adults only tonight,” he said. Pressed against him as you were, you felt the reverberation of his voice in your chest. It was a very pleasant sensation that pooled warmth in your lower belly, and down between your legs.

Dean came back to your lips, letting his ghost over yours. He didn’t want to ruin that pretty red lipstick (but he also really, really did).

You played into it; your smile brushed against his lips while your fingers dragged down his chest. “Then, maybe you should take me…”

You shifted on your feet, letting your thigh graze between his legs. You felt his fingers dig into the small of your back, and you reached back to grab his hand and unwrap his arms from your body.

“…To this mystery restaurant,” you said. “‘Cause I’m really freakin’ hungry.”

You flashed him a smile and slipped between him and the front door. You tossed him your house keys so he could lock it. As you walked down the driveway toward the Impala, you felt his disbelief, a lance of annoyance, but also his amusement. And a hot flare of desire while he watched you walk away from him.

You crossed your arms again and leaned against the passenger door of the Impala while you waited for Dean. He locked the front door and returned to the Impala while pointing a finger at you.

“You play too much,” he said. Your smile deepened.

As it turned out, he didn’t take you to the most expensive restaurant in town, or just to the local diner either. It was a nice Columbian steakhouse that ended up being the perfect place for both of you: a cozy atmosphere with Latin music, a historically Columbian-owned restaurant, and an interesting culture of food for you to enjoy—and a series of revolving smoked meats for Dean.

You noticed though, that while your boyfriend was enthusiastic about the food, he still seemed off somehow. His smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, and while he looked great, he also looked tired. He didn’t have 100% of his usual swagger going on, and that was enough cause for concern. From what Sam had told you, Dean had been doing better in working through their father’s death.

“Dean.” You laid a hand on his knee while he put yet another cheese bun into his mouth. You earned his attention regardless. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Tired.”

He shook his head and thankfully answered after he swallowed. “Nah, just a long drive. What, you’re not having fun?”

You smiled. “No, I am. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m good, baby.”

But you could tell he was hiding something—from the bond, and from you. You frowned at him.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” you said in a quiet, but firm voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You can trust me.”

After a moment, Dean’s pleasant expression faded. A more genuine, rueful smile overtook his features. He took your hand from his knee and pressed it to his lips. He looked down for a few seconds, just thinking, and you gave him the time he needed to do it.

He appreciated that about you. Though you were a curious person by nature, and stubborn about it, in moments like this you never rushed him. You gave him room to breathe.

“Do you know what a djinn is?” he asked.

You blinked at him in curiosity. That wasn’t at all what you’d expected him to say.

“Yeah. I mean, djinn, genies—they’re all over Middle Eastern mythology,” you said, and with a more teasing smile, “And not just in Aladdin.”

Dean inclined his head. “Very good, Professor.”

“I’m guessing they’re real too?” you asked.

“Yeah, nasty sombitches,” he confirmed. He explained that with just one touch, a djinn could propel you into a fantasy of your own making. A dream world, where you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of—at the price of getting your blood sucked dry in the real world.

You grimaced. “Ech. Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ Disneyland,” Dean quipped.

“I’m assuming you and Sam ran into a djinn?” you said.

Dean nodded. His gaze fell away from you as his thoughts drifted back to that world. That place where his family was more or less whole. Where his mom was still alive, and his family had never been sucked into hunting. Where Dean had met you while on a road trip with his dad and married you a year later. Where his little brother had become a lawyer and Dean a firefighter.

His father had died too soon in that world too, but it hadn’t been a gruesome, lonely death caused by a demon. The only real obstacle in that perfect world had been that he’d drifted away from his little brother. They didn’t have a great relationship in that world, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t overcome with a few beers and a couple of heart-to-hearts in the Impala.

But it hadn’t been real.

Dean explained all of this to you over dessert, and you listened with rapt attention. You felt all the emotions he couldn’t readily express.

“I saw what my life could’ve been like,” he admitted. “And I wanted it, more than anything.”

“But this is what’s real, and you chose it,” you said. “That’s what matters.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. You were grateful that he shared this with you, but you could also tell that this had been plaguing his mind. You also didn’t want him to have to wallow in it anymore. What you wanted was to help perk him up, or distract him somehow…

So when he dipped his spoon into the large chocolate brownie in front of him, you parried his spoon with yours and stole his scoop. He looked up at you with raised, incredulous brows.

“What just happened here?” he asked.

You shrugged, smiling as you licked your spoon clean. Dean’s lips pressed together, but in the name of keeping the night pleasant, he decided to let it go.

Once again, he delved into the brownie. And once again, you took his piece with your own spoon, even taking a bit of vanilla ice cream with it.

“This is really good,” you said, humming in delight. “You should try some.”

Dean quirked his head at you. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused.

“I’m tryin’,” he wryly replied. With a purposeful hand, he wielded his spoon and took a nice corner piece. Sure enough, your spoon came in to intercept him. But his left hand closed around your wrist. His gaze flicked up to yours.

“You’re playin’ with fire here, sweetheart,” he warned. You went for your glass of wine with your free hand and took a sip.

“Am I?” you asked. “I thought we agreed to share.”

He leaned in close, until there were mere inches between your faces. “I don’t share food.”

You took his challenge for what it was, and you leaned in until your lips were nearly brushing his.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sat back and sipped at your wine again. You seemed to have no further interest in dessert, so Dean nodded to himself and raised the corner piece of brownie to his lips.

Only to have you snatch his spoon from his hand and take the bite yourself. You washed it down with some water this time. While Dean sat back in shock, you offered him a smile.

“This’s a great place. We should definitely come back here,” you said.

For a moment, all Dean could do was stare at his damn-near empty plate. When he gathered himself, he looked over at you and smiled dangerously.

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed.

You finished your wine while Dean paid for the meal. He wouldn’t accept your money even though you offered to pay half. He asked you out, so he should pay, he reasoned. (He also ordered an extra brownie to-go.)

Anticipation ran down your spine the longer it took to get back to the car. You could feel his silent simmer, but also his patience. You knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him, but you also knew he was waiting for the right moment. Most likely when you two had some real privacy.

But before you could open the passenger side door of the Impala, Dean’s hand stopped you. You let him maneuver you around and press you against the door, and you held onto his jacket for balance. You grinned when he bent down and claimed your lips with his own, demanding, sensuous, and greedy.

You clung to his arms as he basically devoured you in the restaurant’s parking lot. His hands were hot on your hips, then kneading your butt, pulling you flush against him as your fingers curled into his hair.

You hadn’t taken Dean for a PDA kind of guy; he was very private about who knew you were together. But then again, it wasn’t too often that you two went out in public, considering this was the first proper date you and Dean had ever been on.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said against your lips, but the effect was kind of lost when you could feel his amusement and searing desire. You giggled against him.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can deal with that.”

He pinched your butt, making you yelp and tighten your hand in his hair on reflex. He groaned into your mouth.

“Take me home,” you said. Dean nodded, but he was reluctant to let go of you. Eventually he withdrew his hands and opened the passenger side door for you.

First, you smoothed down his jacket and wiped away some of the lipstick from his mouth and chin with your thumb. His charming, full-watt Dean grin was back, and it warmed you up from the inside out.

That night, in your bed, you and Dean made up for months of separation. You were starved for his touch, and Dean realized that with no small measure of guilt.

He tried to focus on being here with you, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like he was somehow taking something from you when he made love to you. Like that hit and run you once accused him of.

This is what Dad warned me about, he couldn’t help but think.

You both laid on your bed together afterwards, dewy with sweat and a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. But as great as it had been for you, you knew that Dean was distracted again.

The moment you heard him think about his father, it brought you back to that day in the hospital.

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” John had said.

But why? You sat up against the headboard, bringing the sheets up to cover yourself. Meanwhile, Dean was coming back from freshening up in the bathroom. He then started tinkering with your iPod and speaker on your nightstand. But he frowned while scrolling through most of the songs.

Ugh. Avril Lavigne. Really? You heard him think to himself. A smile threatened to curve your lips as he continued to grumble at your playlist. But eventually he settled on “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. That was neutral ground you could both agree on.

“Dean,” you found yourself saying, before you could think about it. He joined you back in bed, sitting beside you.

“When I was fourteen, I remember it snowed the day of my mom’s funeral,” you continued. “I was standing there in the cemetery when it started. I was…well, a wreck. I looked up at the flurries, and I heard something.”

It’s not fair!

“I didn’t realize it then, but I think I was hearing you for the first time.” You looked over at Dean, and he met your gaze.

“Sam and I were carted off to Bobby’s a few times when we were kids,” he admitted. “It’s possible.”

You gathered your courage, and you asked the question you had been holding onto for almost a year.

“Did you ever…hear me? Before last year.”

Dean sensed that this was a leading question. You already knew something, or at least thought you did. He sighed.

You sat up straighter and faced him.

“Talk to me,” you implored. Dean hesitated, but after a moment, he answered.

“It was around seven…eight years ago now. I was working a case with my dad near your school. That university.”

You thought back, and it must’ve been when you were getting your bachelor’s degree. Dean explained that he was about twenty-three, making you twenty at the time. And he started to feel you, hear you. It freaked him the hell out.

“A killer dog nearly took my head off because…anyway, the point is, I figured out what it was,” he said.

“But you left,” you said, both hurt and angry. “Why the hell didn’t you reach out to me?”

“My dad told me something,” Dean said. “He said I shouldn’t bring you into my life if I couldn’t hang up my gun. You know what…he was right.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Look at what’s happening,” he said. “I’m on the road with Sam tryin’ to hunt this demon, pulling you away from your job with research, dragging you out in the middle of the night because I’m on death’s door. It’s enough!”

You didn’t like the sharpness in his tone, or the stubborn look in his eyes. That was another thing you’d learned about Dean. When he got an idea of something in his head, a conviction, he wasn’t going to let it go in a hurry.

Too frustrated to remain in bed, Dean got up and started dressing. You watched him put on his underwear and jeans in disbelief. But you stole his gray dress shirt before he could put it on. He wasn’t about to leave you like this.

So you put on the shirt yourself and stood in his way.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he told you.

“Who says?” you challenged. “We’re doing what works for us.”

“That’s my point. It’s not working. And it’s not fair to you.”

“When have I ever asked for fair?” You wanted to know. You had never complained, never asked anything of him except for two things: to keep in touch with you, and not to lie to you.

“This WiFi connection goes both ways, remember?” he countered. “You can try hiding it all you want, but you hate this long-distance crap. Pretty soon you’re gonna start hating me…and shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You didn’t know what to make of that resigned look on his face, but it struck at your heart.

You hefted a sharp sigh. “Didn’t you say that this was just temporary? That after you and Sam killed the Yellow Eyed demon, then you could come home?”

“It took Dad our whole lives just to track Yellow Eyes down,” Dean said. “Then it killed him.”

So he was saying this could take his whole life too. Part of you knew that, but you didn’t want to accept the reality that you could be living half a life with him forever.

You didn’t realize it then, but Dean took your silence as a sign.

“Look, I get it,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like we can just…cut the cord here. But I’d understand if you don’t want to keep doing this.”

For a moment, you stared at him uncomprehendingly. But if he’d just taken half a second to look at your face—to read the truth in your roiling emotions, he wouldn’t have kept running his mouth.

“Truth is, you deserve better than what I got to give,” he said. His hand raised to card through his hair, an anxious gesture. You knew in the way his eyes shifted away.

A tremor of disbelief and dismay coursed through you.

What he had to give.

A man who'd first offered his protection while barely even knowing you. Who comforted you when you needed him, and celebrated your achievements instead of belittling them. Who believed in you when you told him about working yourself up at the museum. Who empowered you to hold your ground, and speak up for yourself.

A man who'd rather be alone than keep hurting you.

“Baby,” you tried, grasping his arm. Still, he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

You pushed him back with both hands on his bare chest when he tried to get around you. “Stop!”

He said your name in a sharp warning. You shook your head stubbornly.

“Do you want me out of your life?” you asked. “Is that really what you want?”

Dean finally looked down at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line, his brows crunched over his eyes…but he couldn’t answer you.

“Then stop it!” you said. “Just fucking stop it. I’m tired of hearing you think that you’re not good enough.”

Dean’s expression slackened.

“Stop lying to yourself,” you said sternly. “I don’t care what you think I want. Whatever ‘together’ means for us is what we’re going to do. Because you are worth it.”

That was your conviction. He'd been fighting for his family his entire life. And now for you, in a way. So the least you could do was fight for him.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hard right now. On both of us,” you said with a nod. “But if you think I’m going to let go just because of that, then you don’t know me at all yet, Dean.”

Your frown solidified into a look of determination.

“But goddamn it, you’re gonna learn.”

His mouth fell open a bit, and his soft surprise gave way to shock when you rocked forward, taking his face between your hands. He accepted your hard kiss, the uncharacteristic way you demanded from him, claimed his lips and his tongue, and the frustrated pace of removing each other’s clothes again.

For once, you took control and pushed Dean down to the bed. He let you do it too. It was an electrifying turn on—to have your hands be firm instead of gentle, but still purposeful in how you touched him.

And you did. You straddled his lap, and between fierce kisses, you mapped out his body with your hands. He held you by your hips, but you soon pushed him down onto the bed. With wet, nipping kisses, you burned a path from his neck, down his chest and sternum, down the defined “V” between his hips.

His breathing deepened the further you went, because Christ had it been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him. He supposed you weren’t the only one starving.

Your lips grazed and nipped the inside of his thigh, getting ever closer to where you knew he wanted you. His hand raised to tangle in your hair, but you moved his hand away and trapped it onto the bed. Your challenging gaze met his, and Dean raised his brows.

No touching, unless I say so, you said through the bond. A smirk raised the corner of his lips.

Yes, ma’am, he replied, making you smile. You then renewed your attention to the task at hand. You settled between his legs lowered down, where the object of your focus was standing perfectly at attention. You let your lips graze his dick. Careful touches, and really, a bit teasing. Dean sucked in a breath when your hands joined your lips, just soft caresses along its length, underneath, over its sensitive head. It was both exactly what he wanted and nowhere near enough.

His hand fisted into the pillow behind his head and the comforter underneath him. Your name fell from his lips—both a prayer and a plea. He felt the shape of your smile in a kiss, pressed against his thigh.

I’ve got you, baby, you said. Finally, your lips descended on him and you took as much of his dick as you could into your mouth. Something between a moan and a grunt fell from Dean’s lips as you worked him over, with your hands joining your warm, wet mouth. He itched to touch you, but you were relentless and held his wrist down onto the bed.

With his free hand, he grabbed onto the headboard as his back arched involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go. You had him trapped, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

But just when he felt that crest of pleasure nearing and thought he was going to see black on the edges of his vision, you let him go with a soft pop. You leaned your arms on his raised knees and wiped your mouth. You looked down at his incredulous face with a mischievous little smile.

Dean made a sound of both shock and frustration as he tried to catch his breath. His head hit the pillow while his hand went to his wildly beating heart.

“Well, that’s just rude,” he uttered. When he was able to speak, that is. You stifled a laugh and moved up to cover that hand on his chest with yours. He flinched, but you were able to offer apologetic kisses. He reluctantly accepted them.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips. You took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm, then brought it to your cheek. Despite the playful, annoyed suspicion in his eyes, he stroked your cheek with affection. He saw your game, and he begrudgingly admired it—and you.

Smiling, you sat back on his bare thighs and brought both of his hands to your body, grazing down your neck to cup your breasts. You sighed as his thumbs brushed over your pert nipples and kneaded the soft flesh.

“Is this for me, or for you?” he teased. You shot him a playful glare. For that, you lowered his hands further down your body and guided his hand to the very wet folds between your legs.

“I’m letting you touch me now,” was your cheeky reply.

Dean smirked, but he sat up and obliged, gathering your wetness with his fingers and stroking your clit with deliberate movements. You shuddered a breath as he slipped a long finger inside you, followed closely by another. All the while, his thumb drew wet circles around your sensitive clit and brought you to the edge of your release.

From that very first night together so long ago, he’d been learning how to play you like a five-string guitar. Tonight was no different, and despite how you’d edged him earlier, he had no qualms about making you come all over his hand.

Your fingers delved into his hair, and you mentally praised him while you caught your breath, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He held you to him as you shook. But after a few moments, he leaned back to look into your eyes.

Through your connection, you felt his playfulness grow and you just knew he was about to say something smartass. But right now, you were still in control. So you stopped his smart mouth with yours and claimed his lips with another deep kiss.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, and this time you took a firmer hold of his dick. It was still a bit wet from your earlier treatment, and you stroked him a few times. His grateful moans sounded in your ear as he gripped your arms tight. You closed your eyes for a second, inwardly preparing yourself, before you sheathed him inside you. You both breathed hard as you adjusted and settled on top of him.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, soothing down his back. “I know. Damn, you feel so good.”

You pushed him back down again so you could find the right angle that would serve both of you. Then you started to move over him. Dean dropped his head hard against the bed. To help him out, you gave him something to grab onto and guided his hand to your hip. He squeezed the flesh there, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises later, you were sure. But the brief pain was a good motivator—it let you know when he was close to his breaking point.

You reached down with your fingers to further part your folds and rub hot circles around your already sensitive clit again. You felt a flutter in your lower belly as that familiar, inexplicable thread of energy within you stuttered; the part of your soul that recognized its equal, its match. The bond hummed and grew hot and pulsing.

Finally, its warmth washed over you.

You gasped and grabbed ahold of Dean’s arms as you almost got lightheaded at the feeling. Dean was going through the same tumble of sensations as he uttered a strangled sound, spilling inside you.

But he had good reflexes; he steadied you, with his arms wrapping around your frame and holding you to him. He eased you over back onto the bed, and then slid out of you.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The frenzy of your earlier argument had fueled what just happened, but now that tension had dissolved into a hard-won peace.

When he was able to move, Dean reached out to hold the side of your face. He tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile for him was soft. You sensed he was thinking, searching for what he wanted to say. So again, you waited, slipping a discarded blanket over your naked body.

“Okay, I think I hear you,” Dean said. “I love you, you know that?”

Your smile grew. He’d repeated the words you confessed to him when he was in the hospital all those months ago. And it was the first time he’d said what he felt for you.

You held a hand by your ear. “What was that?”

Dean’s lips raised into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. He slid an arm underneath you to pull you against his side.

“I love you,” he said, “so damn much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, but not without some exasperation. All this craziness, just to finally get on the same page. You grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks. “That's my point.”

You made a sound of frustration before you released him. Dean laughed a bit, closing his eyes. You enjoyed his more carefree smile as you rested against his chest.

This man, you thought, is damn lucky he’s adorable.

He cut into your thoughts dryly, Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.

You rolled your eyes.

At least we made it through our first real fight, you said. In spectacular fashion, I might add.

Yeah, but you played dirty, said Dean.

You just smiled.

The next morning, you and Dean woke up after your dad had presumably left for work. You were grateful. It spared you from the awkwardness of a “morning after” in your father’s presence.

I really need to get my own place.

So you made coffee while Dean made some toast and eggs for breakfast. But he got a call just as he was plating the eggs.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he answered. The more your uncle spoke, the more serious Dean’s expression got. You sensed a flare of his panic and you turned to him in concern. The plate in his hand hit the table with a clatter.

“Where?” Dean said. His tone was sharp and worried. “I’m comin’ now.”

Dean ended the call and abandoned the food to grab his jacket. He explained before you could ask the predictable question.

“Sam went missing this morning on a coffee run,” Dean said. “When Bobby got to the diner to check on him, the whole place had been cleared out, except for the bodies of the brunch crowd.”

You gasped and raised a hand to your mouth in shock. “What happened to Sam?”

Dean’s face became grim and angry as he grabbed his wallet and keys.

“Bobby found sulfur all over the place. He thinks Yellow Eyes took him,” he said. “…I’ve gotta go.”

It was late fall, so you grabbed a coat from the rack and your purse. “I’m going with you.”

Dean halted at the doorway, and that stopped you short behind him. He turned around and gave you a firm look.

“No you’re not, damn it!” he said. “You’re staying here.”

“Are you kidding me?” you said. “The last time you faced this thing, it almost killed you!”

“You’ve got a job, remember?” he pointed out. You shook your head.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday, upon which I’ll take a couple of sick days if I need to.” Your words were both a warning and a promise. “Just let me help you find Sam. I’m handy with research. You know I can help!”

Dean didn’t like it. He had half a mind to keep arguing with you, but he really didn’t have time for this. He made a sound of aggravation and rubbed a hand over his face.

He then levied a finger at you. “You’re staying in the car. When we get there, you don’t argue with me. You do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. Normally you would take issue with being ordered by your boyfriend, but in the world of dark and evil things, you would follow Dean’s lead.

So you hid a triumphant smile as you locked up your house, then followed him to the Impala.

AN: Whew! Well, then lol. The reader finally gave Dean a piece of her mind (among other things). How'd you like their first date? 😉

Dean definitely gives me Joey vibes from Friends when it comes to sharing food. 😂

But as the chapter title implies, we also dug in a bit on how Dean sees himself vs. how his soulmate sees him.

So a lot of drama this time, but ending on another good ol' cliffhanger. AKA: Where the hell is Sam?

Next up, some action! Heading into 2.21: All Hell Breaks Loose (Pt. 1).

To keep reading: PART 11

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