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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 7 months

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Better Late Than Never

Title: Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: ~2,143

In which the reader’s love language is physical touch, but has never touched Dean…in public.

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one! Thanks so much for reading and for your support. If you have any requests for a fic, feel free to give me a character and a prompt/explanation for what you’d like!

Your love language has always been physical touch. A quick brush of hands here, an innocent kiss to the cheek there. Whether it was your friend or your significant other, touch was just something you used to show that you cared.

So it meant a lot to you when, after you moved in with the Winchesters, Sam had quickly picked up on your love language and allowed you to give him occasional hugs. He’d also gone out of his way to hug you, or even just put a reassuring hand on your shoulder once in a while.

But even though you felt more than comfortable with Sam, you were the first to admit that you’d never so much as given Dean a high five.

In front of others.

In the privacy of an empty bunker or motel room, you and Dean had no problem brushing against each other and exchanging brief touches. Eventually, the brief touches had turned into longer ones, and hands drifted from your shoulder to the small of your back. Then those touches turned into sitting right beside each other, your head resting on his shoulder as he peppered kisses on the top of your head. And after that, kisses on your head turned to kisses on your lips, while hands on your back turned into hands grasping your hips.

But as soon as Sam, Cas, Charlie, or anyone else walked through the door, you would revert back to no touches at all.

It’s not that you didn’t want to. He truly meant the world to you. But every time someone would walk into the room, he would pull away. And you never wanted to make Dean feel uncomfortable, even if it was killing you inside. So, to respect his space, you’d never so much as given Dean a high five in front of other people.

Until today.

A hunt had gone sideways when a djinn had outsmarted the three of you and gotten its hands on Dean while you and Sam had been out getting dinner.

When you got back to the motel room to see that Dean was gone and not answering his phone, you and Sam had come up with a plan. A questionable plan, for sure, but it was all that you could come up with in the limited time that you were allowed.

Now, the two of you sat in Baby, reviewing the plan before you burst into the abandoned warehouse where Dean was being kept.

“Whatever you do, don’t engage with the djinn, got it? I’ll take care of him, you take care of Dean.”

You nodded stiffly, your eyes on the building ahead. “I hear you, I got it. But if you’re in any trouble-”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Would you just listen to me for a second-”

You looked up at him, fury in your gaze. “I will not let that djinn take you, too.”

Sam’s gaze softened. For all of the sweet touches that you passed around, you were still a hunter, willing to hurt anything that came between you and your family.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaned towards you. “Hey. We’re going to be okay, alright? Us and Dean, we’re getting out of here. And that djinn isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

He kept his hand on your shoulder until you finally nodded in agreement, a half smile taking shape on your lips. You took a deep breath and checked the bullets in your gun and the knife hidden in your jacket as Sam checked the knife dipped in lamb’s blood and the colt in his holster one last time.

As you went through your mental checklist, you couldn’t help the bolt of fear that shot through you when you realized that the djinn could have easily killed Dean hours ago.

You shook your head at the thought. Dean was tough, and if the djinn was probably desperate to make his life force last as long as possible.

You shook out your nerves one last time before you straightened up and looked towards Sam. “Alright,” you muttered. “Let’s get this thing.”

The two of you got out of the car quietly before making your way to the door of the warehouse. Sam put a finger to his lips as he tried the door. You both made a face of surprise when the door gave way easily. Sam led the way as you crept inside, hoping against all odds that the rest of the revue would go this smoothly.

But of course, it wouldn’t really be a Winchester hunt if nothing went wrong.

As soon as you and Sam entered the building, you were ambushed by the waiting djinn. With the advantage of surprise on its side, it quickly overpowered Sam and tossed him to the side before it turned its attention toward you.

You cursed under your breath and raised your gun, knowing full well that it and your knife would do nothing to save you, since the plan had been that you would never have to face the djinn. The djinn smiled at your panic, pacing towards you swiftly.

Suddenly, Sam appeared once again behind the djinn. The djinn whirled around and just barely managed to dodge the knife that Sam swung its way.

Sam risked a glance over to you. “Go! Get Dean!”

You nodded, though he had already turned back to face the djinn.

You looked around wildly, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Dean could be. You startled when you heard faint gasping coming from one of the rooms to your right.

Dean. You sighed in relief as you followed the sound. He had probably saved himself from his fantasy world. You shuddered as you remembered what he’d had to do to escape his dream, and started moving faster.

You entered the room cautiously, gun in hand. From your left, a weak voice croaked out your name.

You whirled around to find Dean weak and bound, but utterly alive. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you ran over to him, shoving your gun back in its holster so that you could grab your knife and cut through his bindings.

Dean looked up at you and smiled weakly. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You ignored him, focused solely on setting him free. Your hands were shaking, making it harder to cut through the ropes. Finally, with an extra push, your knife cut through. You dropped it so that you could catch Dean, who slumped forward as soon as he was able to move again.

You slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, allowing him to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice.

Dean looked up at you, his eyes soft as he searched your face. “I’m alright.”

His gaze sharpened suddenly, and he looked around the room. “Where’s Sammy?”

Your head snapped over to the door, through which you could hear sounds of a fight. You cursed lightly under your breath as you stood.

Dean moved to stand as well, but you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back lightly. “Stay here,” you ordered. “I’ll help Sam.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“Stay. Here.”

Dean eyed you stubbornly, but seemed to think better of himself, and nodded once for you to go on. He watched as you picked up your knife and handed it to him before you exited the room, jumping straight into the fight.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him. Normally, he wouldn’t have stayed behind, regardless of what you or Sam said. But as he lay still against the wall, he couldn’t help but remember the dream that he’d been forced into.

You, him, and Sam. There’d been no more monsters. No fighting, no war. Just the three of you, living peacefully.

Jess had been there. She and Sam had gotten married, and Sam was the happiest man around. Or maybe not the happiest. Dean himself had been pretty happy too, with you by his side, through sickness and health. Finally free to hug and love each other freely, regardless of who was around.

He smiled as he looked back on it, but immediately broke out of his memory and jerked to attention as he heard footsteps enter the room.

Panic filled his body. Was it the djinn? Had he gotten to you and Sam? He clutched the knife you had given him in his hand, ready to make good use of it.

He heard Sam call out his name, relief filling his body. Dean opened his eyes and stood slowly, smiling at the two hunters watching him with concerned eyes. “Hey, Sammy.”

You heard Sam laugh breathlessly in relief while your eyes raked over Dean’s body, making sure that he wasn’t hiding an injury.

Dean tilted his head slightly, meeting your eyes. “I’m fine. Honest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were aware of Sam saying something next to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, your attention solely on Dean.

When Dean looked over at you again, a small smile on his lips and concern in his eyes, you couldn’t help yourself. You threw down your weapon and ran over, throwing yourself into his arms.

You’d never been hugged like that before.

His arms wound themselves around your body and tightened, pressing you against him. His hands were open, one resting on your shoulder and one on your side, both tugging you closer than you thought possible. His head rested on top of yours, and he murmured reassurances into your ear as he slowly rocked you side to side.

Through it all, you could faintly hear the sound of Sam leaving the room, giving the two of you some space.

When you finally pulled back, Dean’s hands didn’t leave you, instead resting on your hips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

Your hands fluttered between his shoulders, his neck, and his face as you closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean chuckled and gave the barest shake of his head, bringing his hands up to rest them on yours where they sat cradling his face. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You laughed. “Because my life revolves around you?”

“Because then we’d never be able to tell Sam about us.”

You felt your face change, your smile dropping as you stepped away from Dean.

He looked back at you as his arms dropped down to his sides, hurt evident on his face. “What did I do? Are we not…?”

“No!” You exclaimed, shaking your head quickly.

You saw disappointment and shame flit across his features. You shook your head again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…I just…I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“It’s just…” You steeled yourself. “You always pull away from me. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something. Or maybe you just wanted me to help you feel better-”

Dean’s whole body jerked with surprise and he stepped towards you, arms outstretched. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. I’m just…” He hesitated, only a step away from you as his arms dropped. “I’m not good with mushy gushy crap. You know that.”

You smiled cautiously. “I know. Nothing wrong with that.”

He nodded, unmoving.

You took a step towards him. “Maybe we could…work on it together?”

A smirk crossed his face as he reached an arm around your back and pulled you closer. “Oh, yeah?”

A laugh crossed your lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean leaned his head down to softly brush his lips against yours. “I know.”

You felt him stiffen as you both heard footsteps re-enter the room, with Sam loudly complaining, “You guys good to go?”

You moved to pull away, muscle memory taking over, when Dean suddenly cupped your face with one hand and pressed his other hand against your back. His eyes searched yours. “Is this okay?”

Your heart was hammering against your chest, the knowledge that what you said could determine your whole relationship with both Winchesters weighing on your brain.

You heard Sam’s footsteps moving closer and smiled breathlessly. “Yeah,” you managed to say before he connected his lips to yours.

“Guys,” Sam repeated as he stepped into the room. His eyes landed on the two of you, your hands cupping Dean’s face as he pulled you closer still. He chuckled and turned away, but not before shouting, “It’s about time!”

He could hear Dean telling him where to shove it as he walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that the two of you genuinely believed that nobody had noticed your secret relationship these past two years.

Oh well, he thought to himself. Better late than never.

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #supernatural fluff #dean x reader fluff #sam and dean #fanfic #fic #castiel #supernatural charlie #supernatural imagines #incorrect supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #fem reader #fluff

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fooled-around-and-fell · 3 months

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heyyo, wanted to request an imagine about jensen. maybe they’re best friends who met on the boys or supernatural, she’s been confiding with him about this dude she seeing but jensens kind of into her and is jealous so he doesn’t rlly wanna talk about it, they have some drinks and he says something like “i just don’t think he’s right for you” and ends with smut and happy ending? if that’s okay with you 🤍

a/n: hi! thank you for requesting 🩵 love your idea, but i'm gonna tweak it so that it's dean instead of jensen. hope that's alright! anyway, enjoy love! and i'm so sorry it took me a while!

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

genre: fluff

warnings: smut, 18+ only, mdni, unprotected sex (don't be a hog, cover your log), oral f receiving, dean is huge.

Masterlist

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dean is enjoying his night alone. sam's out with a girl, you're out with a guy... alright, he's not enjoying his night as much as he'd like to.

mainly because you left for your date 4 hours ago and you're still not back. it was supposed to be a lunch date, and you're still out. what's taking you so long?

dean grits his teeth. he's being jealous again.

to be completely honest, his perfect night would be a night spent with you in his arms, cuddled in his bed while an episode of your favorite tv show played. but of course, you're both nothing but friends so that's not happening.

not long after, he hears the front door open and rushes to see if it's you. it is, but he wonders why you look glum.

"hey, you're back early." he doesn't actually think it's early.

you sigh as you take your heels off, dropping them on the floor and lying down on the couch.

"didn't go well?"

you groan in response.

dean's heart melts a little. he scooches you over so you're lying down between his legs, resting your weight on his chest.

"wanna talk about it?"

you sigh once again, uncovering your eyes from your arm. "it was actually not that bad. not great, but not terrible."

dean's silent. "what? you want me to get into the details?"

he shrugs, "if you want to. not too detailed though."

"well, not much happened anyway." you say, "we had a long lunch, then we were back at his place making out, and i don't know, the way he was kissing me was a little weird. it was very stiff-"

"sweetheart, it's meant to be stiff-"

"you know that's not what i mean." you hit his arm.

he laughs. "sorry, continue?"

"as i was saying," you emphasize, "his tongue was like jabbing my mouth and for some reason he kept bumping his teeth on mine-- it was turning me off so i left."

dean laughs again, "wow. i'm.. so sorry."

"oh shut up, it's not like you've never had a bad date before."

"that's not what i'm saying. well sort of." he says smugly. "i'm saying i'm sorry you encountered a bad kisser. never happened to me before."

you roll your eyes. "yeah, sure."

"i'm serious." he says.

"dean, you're working all the time, you've never even been with that many women -- i think?"

"i'm a natural, what can i say?"

you scoff and turn your body to look at him, laughing and looking so smug. and looking so good in that shirt that accentuates his muscles in just the right way.

you'd be lying if you said you don't have a crush on dean... to say the least. you've liked him for ages, maybe even love him, but you're almost 100% sure you're not his type.

but now it seems like he's dropping hints and flirting with you, so... might as well take your chances right?

"alright, should we put it to the test then?" you ask.

"huh?"

you pull yourself closer to dean by gripping his shirt and press your lips to his. he's taken aback at first, but slowly moves his lips with yours and circles his arms around you, easing you into his hold.

you've been dreaming about kissing his lips for a long time. he also always looks and smells so good around the house it's annoying.

what's also annoying is that he wasn't lying when he said he's a good kisser. he's taking your breath away and you feel like melting in his arms.

his plush, soft lips, his gentle but firm tongue teasing yours, the bites he leaves on your lips, tugging and definitely bruising.

you try to push him away to take a breath. "come back here," but he just grabs the back of your neck to kiss you again.

a moan escapes you when he readjusts your position so you're now sitting on his lap, and you gasp when you feel something poking your ass.

"sorry," dean chuckles and readjusts himself. he has a smug look on his face, especially when he sees how disheveled you are right now.

"so," he starts, "how did i do?"

you gulp and look away, not sure how to answer him.

he cups your chin so you'll look at him and say, "do you want me to continue?"

you nod slowly.

"words, sweetheart. i need to hear you say it."

you bite your already swollen lip. "i... i want you, dean. i need you. p-please."

he smiles, kissing you again before picking you up to take you to his room. "good girl."

you didn't think dean's words would affect you that much, but it just did. you're clenching around nothing.

dean's having a hard time believing this is happening himself, but the smell of your shampoo, your perfume, the taste of your lips... fuck he's in love.

the door to his room slams shut and he lays you down on the bed.

"sure you want this?" he asks.

"i want you," you say more firmly this time. "only if you feel the same."

"sweetheart," he chuckles, "i've wanted you for a long, long time now."

you roll your eyes at him despite the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"i'm serious." he says, pulling you closer by the waist, his hands roaming around your back until he finds the zipper. "since the moment i saw you."

he zips your dress down and you let out a shaky breath when his hands touch your naked skin.

"i'm.. i'm pretty sure i was covered in dirt and blood when we first met."

he hums, pulling your dress down and tracing his hands closer to your breasts. he's leaving kisses and bites along your neck before licking your ear. "nothing sexier than woman who knows how to fight for herself."

you gasp when he cups your breast, pinching and twirling your nipple while he drowns your moans in his kisses.

you're gripping his shirt, fumbling with the buttons before finally reaching his skin, feeling his toned body, and going down to unbuckle his belt.

he slaps your hand away, trailing kisses down from your lips, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he licks your breast, flicking your nipple with his tongue.

"fuck, dean."

dean twitches in his pants hearing you moan his name like that.

"a thong?" he smirks, pushing the tiny pice of fabric to the side so he can get a good look of your pussy. "fuck you're so wet already."

your legs instinctively try to close, but dean keeps them open with his hands, slapping your thigh in the process. He can't hide his smile when he sees you clench around nothing as he does that.

"stop smiling like that." your face turns red.

"like what?" he knows exactly what you're talking about. grinning, biting his lip, driving you crazy.

"you know, it's quite unfair." you say, squirming under his touch.

"what is?" he asks, breath hitting your exposed sex and fingers inching closer.

you buck your hips up wishing for some sort of friction and groan. "i'm naked, and you still have your pants on."

He hums. "i kinda like it like this. you're spread wide and so.. so.. pretty..." he suddenly licks a stripe up your slit, lingering and circling your clit. "all for me."

"holy shit." you throw your head back.

dean doesn't stop there. He keeps licking and sucking, dipping his tongue inside you every once in a while. he traces your slit with his fingers before pushing two digits in, curling them and making you arch your back.

"dean," you moan his name, tugging his hair as he's about to make you come.

he keeps his eyes on you, and you're staring back at him before the coil inside you finally snaps and your toes curl, your orgasm washing over you.

dean slows his movements, still toying with your clit to help you with your high until you're flinching away, the sensation a little too much.

he chuckles seeing your worn out state and stands up, his five o'clock shadow covered in your juices.

as you catch your breath, you reach for his belt again. he doesn't slap your hand away this time, letting you take it off and undo his jeans.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself when you see his size and how hard he is.

dean takes the rest of his pants off and joins you in bed, kissing you and guiding your hand to touch him. he lets out a shaky breath when you finally grab the base of his cock and start pumping a few times.

"god you're beautiful," he says.

you chuckle, lining his cock with your entrance.

"and impatient." he teases, nudging his tip while coating himself in your wetness.

"dean, i swear-"

he pushes in one swift motion, knocking the breath and words out of you.

"mm. fuck." he moans. "you were saying?"

you moan before pulling him down to kiss you. "move... please."

he pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, slowly increasing his pace. his grip on your waist is almost bruising, but the look he has on you is going to leave a permanent mark for sure.

dean's hand cups your cheek, and you turn your head slightly to take his thumb in your mouth, sucking gently while keeping his gaze.

"son of a...." he groans out loud.

dean almost rests his weight on you, allowing you to cling to him and pull him closer. your orgasm is approaching quickly, and you squeeze around him to hold on just a bit longer, clawing his back in the process.

"dean, i'm gonna come." you moan, "fuck you're gonna make me come."

"yeah?" he smiles, thrusting a little harder and deeper. "let go. come for me."

you let your orgasm wash over you, and a moan escapes when you feel him filling you up. you two stay like that for a minute, in each other's arms, his head buried in your neck leaving kisses while you play with his hair.

"so," dean says, lifting himself off of you. "let me take you to dinner?"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x reader fluff #spn #dean winchester spn #dean winchester supernatural #dean spn #supernatural fic

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Every Embrace

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,218

Summary: How sharing a bed with Dean Winchester started and where it is now.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level Violence, mostly fluff.

Requested: Yes, by Anonymous. “could you plzzzzzz make a fic where dean and Y/N share rooms or beds when on hunts and they aren’t dating but find comfort in cuddling and being near each other, especially dean. can he be the initiator and the sap for physical touch?”

A/N: Requests are open! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, life has been absolutely crazy! Hope to get back to posting regularly soon! <3 as always, please let me know what you think.

Masterlist

The first time we shared a bed was out of necessity. Dean had been driving for 10 hours straight, all of us were exhausted, sore and just tapped out for the day. The Wisconsin motel had come up suddenly, the last one for another hour. Dean had parked the impala and I had volunteered to be the one to go in and get us a room. Upon checking in, they informed me that they only had one room left, with two beds. I accepted and paid for the room, returning to the car. Intending to let Sam and Dean have the beds and I’d stay in the impala. The second I had suggested this to them it was shot down quickly.

Dean had immediately objected, stating that he’d stay in the impala and I could have his bed. Internally, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I helped them bring the bags in, letting them get settled. Sam quickly fell asleep on his bed, his clothes a rumpled mess. Exhaustion evident by the deep sleep he had been swallowed up by. Dean had hopped in the shower, mumbling something about needing to wash off the rock salt from hunting ghosts earlier in the day. I changed into comfier clothes, grabbing a pillow off of Deans bed and the blanket that I keep in my duffle at all times and quietly closed the motel door behind me.

I opened the back door to the impala and tossed my pillow in, spreading the blanket down over the seat before I had climbed in and shut the door behind me. I laid down, wrapped myself tight with the blanket I had brought and settled in as best I could in the cramped back seat. I had almost fallen asleep, when the door by my feet was yanked open. I yelled, fully prepared to kill whatever had decided to disturb my rest. I quickly backed off once I realized it was Dean.

He asked what I was doing and why I was in the impala when I was supposed to take the bed. I explained that I knew he was sore and I wanted him to have the bed. He refused. After a couple minutes of arguing, he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me towards the open door. Mumbling that we could share the bed, he wasn’t about to allow me to sleep in the car. I tried to put up a fight, but he silenced me with a look. An exhausted, pleading look. I caved, and followed him inside. He had silently crawled into the bed, his back to the middle. I had carefully settled in next to him, mirroring his position, our backs had been to one another. That was until a nightmare had woken me up, a gasp had left my lungs and I had sat straight up. Dean had immediately noticed and his hand grabbed onto my own. He pulled me down against him, silently embraced me and lulled me back to sleep.

The second time was out of fear, Dean terrified to let me out of his reach for more than a second. We had unknowingly stumbled upon a hoard of demons, only making it out thanks to Sam and Deans quick thinking. I had frozen in place, fear overwhelmed my senses which allowed one of the demons to throw me head first down a set of stairs. I had blacked out, a concussion another injury to add to my long list of hunting ailments. I had awoken to Dean shaking my shoulders, his face swimming before my eyes like the image seen inside of a kaleidoscope. His words had been silent and they had fallen on deaf ears, a temporary loss of hearing plagued my senses, only to return a short time later. He had pulled me into his arms, cradled me close against him and rushed me out to the impala. His grasp on me firm, but gentle. Once we returned safely to the motel, he ignored my every protest and cleaned me up to his satisfaction.

The cut on my forehead and my splitting headache the only proof of the internal injury that was my concussion. He shushed me as he applied the bandage to my forehead, his eyes scanned my own for any hint of pain that he had not addressed. Once he was satisfied, he helped me down off the counter. A heavy silence had fallen between us, I was exhausted and simply didn’t have the energy for the argument that I was sure was going to follow. It didn’t however, he simply hugged me. His arms tight around my waist, his chin rested against the crown of my head. His breathing was escalated, sharp and had the edge of panic. I hugged him back, allowing his touch to calm me. I only let go when he pulled away, I had believed that was the last of it for the night.

I bid him goodnight and began to head for the motel door. He stopped me with his words, insisting that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go sleep in a room by myself, the concussion reason enough for me to stay in there with him and Sam. I had hesitated, not wanting an argument, but also afraid of getting to used to the comfort that sharing a bed with him provided. We still hadn’t spoken about the first time it had happened, the way that we had woken up in the others arms. Once we had both woken up, we were quick to roll apart, making excuses for our unconscious behavior.

The pleading look on Dean’s face was enough to convince me to stay that night. So for the second time, we climbed into the same bed. I faced the outside of the bed, my back to Dean’s. Yet this time, it didn’t last more than thirty seconds. He had immediately pulled me back against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. His chest pressed to my back, his chin cradled my the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. I couldn’t tell which one of us needed it more in that moment, his touch eased my pain. Little did I know, I eased his pain too. His was mental, mine was physical. We had both fallen asleep embracing the other, lulled into peaceful dreams by the other person.

I can’t tell you when the third time turned to the fourth, the fourth to the fifth ,or the fifth to the sixth. It was a natural progression, as easy as breathing. A fresh breath of air on a foggy morning, easy and clear. Refreshing. The situations varied, but one thing never changed. Dean was always the one to initiate the physical contact.

We no longer looked for multiple rooms at motels, the bed in the bunker that I had claimed began to go unused. Our need for the other person became so great that we could no longer ignore it. It was platonic, comforting and necessary for survival. The unknown ache that had settled over my should was slowly being eased. The need for another person, physical touch and emotional comfort had finally been fulfilled in a way that I never saw coming. If you had told me years ago when I stumbled upon the Winchester brothers that I would seek comfort in the eldest, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. However, now that I am here, shrouded in the safety that was Dean, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The darkness of the room normally would have been anxiety causing, the nightlight that remained plugged in to the outlet of my room in the bunker is no longer necessary.

I no longer fear that monsters that might be lurking on the edge of the darkness, I no longer fear the darkness within my own head. All of these have been driven far away from my every thought, all of that due to the man who’s arms I am wrapped in at this very moment. It had changed from the inability to sleep when we shared a bed, due to anxiety over waking him up or the fear of letting him in, to the inability to sleep without him next to me. I craved his touch and that scared me more than I thought physically possible.

“Whatcha reading, Y/N?” Dean asks, his bare feet silent as he enters the room. I glance up from the book I was scanning, my eyes darting over the low hanging sweatpants adorning his hips, his bare chest and shoulders only covered by the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel before locking with his own. I hum, considering my next words carefully. While I had been sitting with this book for the last hour, I had not been reading. I had been thinking, over analyzing every time we had shared a bed or grown closer over the last few months. The emotional connection that I had with the green eyed Winchester standing in front of me, something I never could have predicted. “I, Uh-couldn’t really tell you,” I laugh, snapping the book shut and setting it on the table next to me. “Was thinking more than reading I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and try to brush off the look that he is giving me. One eyebrow raised, his lip caught between his teeth in the way that I know means he is debating on whether to tease me or let it go. He chooses the latter, remaining silent, but sitting down next to me on the couch. He nods and hands me a beer, that he had already taken the cap off of. Another thing that he had started doing for me, without my asking. It was little things like this that had caused me to question exactly what was going on between us, the silent things that he had started doing for me.

“What had you so lost in thought?” He asks, his hand pulling my legs across his lap. He rubs his fingers gently into the muscle of my calf, working out a knot that I didn’t know was there until his firm touch brushed against it. I shrug again, taking a sip of my beer in order to delay my response a bit longer. He had been so touchy recently, not that I minded. It was there, a need for physical affection, I had buried it long ago. Yet the second his body brushed my own, it was roaring like a lion. Needy and vocal, rearing to be released from the internal cage I had locked it in so long ago.

“You.” I mutter, the word leaving my mouth before I can even think to stop it. A flush washes over my face, my cheeks turning red. I can feel deans eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I am paying close attention to a slight imperfection in the glass of the beer bottle.

“What about me?” He asks, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I hesitate, wondering if I really want to vocalize my next thought.

“About how you’ve been so affectionate recently, I don’t mind it at all. I love it. But it confuses me, we haven’t talked about it. And I just, it leaves me to wonder, you know?” I say, the last words leaving my mouth an almost silent whisper.

“Wonder what, sweetheart?” He asks, his tone flirtatious and cocky. It’s only then that I look up and I’m greeted by a grin plastered across his lips. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying my hesitation and embarrassment. I smack his arm playfully, my eyebrows tugging together in a look that tells him to knock it off.

“Okay, okay.” He says, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Wonder, what Y/N?” He asks again, his tone returning to seriousness.

“What does this mean De?” I sigh, resting my head against my hand and staring back at him. He turns to face me, his hands resting on each of my thighs. I can see that he’s choosing his next words carefully which causes anxiety to bubble up within me.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone needs physical touch. It’s part of being human.” He says and my heart falls. The hope that had been building within me for something more with him quickly crumbles.

“Or, if you wanted it to mean more than just friendly affection, that would be okay too.” My eyes snap back to his once more, confusion flashing over my features. He smiles softly at me, his eyes searching my own for an answer. My voice is lost to me, so I nod. The only response necessary to communicate how I felt at that moment.

Even though we hadn’t labeled the things we both felt for the other, it was no longer a concern at that moment. Every embrace was enough to keep the other going. For now, being wrapped up in his arms and listening to his soft snores every night would be all that I need. Maybe one day that could change and we could delve deeper into the feelings that we shared. But for now, sharing a bed would be enough.

tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

Text

Play That Zeppelin Tune (Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Can I request road head with Dean? I feel like this is a PERFECT concept for him, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one! 🙏🏼

Summary: You and Dean had a deal - no strings attached. But you both knew that wouldn’t last long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI ,road head and vanilla sex in the Impala

Led Zeppelin songs mentioned in the fic: Ramble On , Since I’ve Been Lovin’ You and I Can’t Quit You Baby

Word count: 3k

Note: This was so fun to write. I’m really happy how it turned out. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for helping me edit the fic and being my QUEEEEEEN! <3

Driving into the evening twilight, not a care in the world, you were happy. It was chilly that day, spring was lingering in the air but was still too shy to show its face. The car was purring smoothly, while the trees around you were just one long colorful stain in your peripheral vision. The road was smooth, with few bumps here and there but still smooth nonetheless.

Leather jackets clung perfectly to your bodies as the wind played with your hair. You both decided it was cold, but not cold enough to keep the windows closed.

After Night Moves by Bob Seger ended, silence entered the car before Dean eventually asked you:

"Zepps or AC/DC?”

“Stupid question, Zepps.” You answered.

***

You and Dean shared a special and profound bond over music. You also shared the same temperament and would constantly argue over who was the greatest guitarist, vocalist, etc of all time.

“It’s Page!” Dean said one Sunday morning while stuffing his face with bacon.

“Dean I know Led Zeppelin is your favorite band and I GET IT, but -”

“Not buts, Page is the greatest guitar player of all time you cannot convince me otherwise.” He said cutting your train of thought.

“You’re impossible!” You said in frustration as you took a slice of your Maple pancakes.

Sam sat in silence that day and watched the two of you bicker with a smile on his face while sipping his morning coffee.

“I’m awesome!” Dean said proudly.

“Ritchie Blackmore exists, Dean!”

“Yeah, and he’s good, but Jimmy is Jimmy!”

“You obviously have never listened to Stargazer.”

“Oh I have but nothing beats Jimmy’s solo in Stairway to Heaven!” And that was where this whole argument died.

You rolled your eyes and didn’t say anything – there was no point in saying anything since he would just repeat himself.

***

"Which song?" Dean asked.

"Surprise me!"

As he inserted the cassette tape, the familiar tune of Ramble On blasted from the speakers of his beloved car. That was one of your favorite songs, it brought back so many memories, innocent bitter-sweet ones, from childhood. Your dad liked to play that song whenever you would go on a road trip. (Aka on a hunting trip, but as a child, you were only shown what he wanted you to see. Motel rooms with unlimited TV and junk food were your best friend every few weeks. Later in life, you would find out why he would leave you for hours alone in the motel rooms and, well, that would be the day you would start going with him and start your journey of becoming a hunter.)

It was Dean’s favorite too, for him it was the melody, the grip it had on him. It also reminded him of his dad, since John loved Zepps too.

“I approve!” You smiled thinking about your father. He was a stone-cold man, sometimes an overprotective controlling asshole, but he had an otherworldly taste in music.

“Awesome!” Dean said.

You were both enjoying the song – Dean’s eyes fixed on the road, loose grip on the wheel while you were lost in your thoughts, trying not to think about the man in that same car.

You and Dean were friends but…

“Everything that comes before the word but is bullshit” – was something you read a few years ago in a random romance novel and hasn’t left your mind since.

But…

BUT…

***

You were friends before getting drunk one Sunday afternoon, while Sam was asleep and ended up in his bed…naked. After that day, you both realized you gave each other the best orgasms and that the life you were living wasn’t exactly suitable for a romantic relationship, but since you both had extremely high sex drives you slept together again, and again and again…

Eventually, the deal was made – no strings attached and don’t tell Sam. The part where you didn't tell Sam didn’t last long. You didn’t need to tell him, the poor man found out for himself one night. The next morning was pretty awkward.

“Guys, next time,” he cleared his throat to find the words, “Don’t be too loud. I couldn’t sleep.”

Silence.

Dean stopped chewing his bacon while your cheeks turned pink and you lost appetite.

“Yeah, I don’t care what you do!” Sam continued trying to make things a little less awkward. It wasn't working. “Just…keep it on the low. Please?”

“I told you, you were too loud.” Dean said, digging back into his bacon and eggs.

“Oh go fuck yourself, Dean!” You said before taking a sip of your coffee.

“No need to sweetheart, you did a bang-up job last night.” He sassed back and winked.

You rolled your eyes while Sam had an evident expression of disgust on his face.

***

Friends…

But…

The connection you and Dean had was genuine, strong, and intoxicating, but one thing you knew – he was the right person but the time was fucking wrong.

With the world constantly going to shit and this life – there was no space for love, no space for being in love. And yet, your heart was telling you the opposite, not just your heart – Dean was showing you the opposite of no strings attached. He, at times, seemed attached – too attached.

No strings attached meant no kisses after sex, and yet he would always kiss your forehead afterward. No strings attached meant no going on dates, and yet you didn't mind going to pubs now and then to have a couple of drinks – without Sam. No strings attached meant not acting like you were dating and yet you did just that. Both of you didn't say anything and no one protested.

***

Dean even got a little protective; a few weeks ago when a guy tried to shoot his shot with you, even though you told him multiple times to leave you alone…

"Nice try pal. Scram!" He said, sipping his beer as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

The guy rolled his eyes, obviously getting the hint and finally leaving you alone. That was the first time you got butterflies because of that man, you didn't know why, you didn't understand it and all you could remember was —it felt nice. But the deal was the deal so you decided to play it cool and cheeky.

"So you're my boyfriend now?" You teased him.

"Hey, I don't share. Plus the guy couldn't take no for an answer." He winked and went back to his table where Sam was as you continued your solo game of darts.

I don't share.

****

"What?" Dean asked, snapping you back to reality. You were completely lost in your mind, reminiscing about every damn moment you spent with that man, overanalyzing every look, kiss, and touch you shared, and thinking about all the possible what-ifs. You didn't even realize that you were staring at him a little too long.

"Nothing." — you started with a lie — "I'm just thinking how hot you are while driving." And ended with the truth.

There was something about a good-looking man in front of the steering wheel that you found attractive. Correction, there was something about Dean in front of the steering wheel that you found attractive.

Dean smiled at your comment. It wasn't the first time you told him that, and it definitely won't be your last, but every time he would hear it, it would wake up something in him… something he didn't know how to identify. He had experienced it a couple of times, but that was a long time ago. He didn’t know what it was back then, and he didn’t know it now, but he knew one thing – he liked it. He liked the effect your words had on him.

"You know every time you tell me that we end up fucking in the car?" He finally said.

And with that, a light bulb went off in your head. You didn't want to think about what ifs or ponder over what if some things were not left unsaid. You wanted to shake that sorrowful feeling off and have fun.

Lucky for you, he was looking extraordinarily hot that day.

"Yeah I know," you said and undid your seatbelt. "I know you secretly get horny whenever I compliment or praise you."

"That's a lie." He lied as he gripped the wheel tightly, eyes still on the road.

“Yeah sure thing,” you said, brushing it off as you turned to face him. “Let’s play a game, Dean!”

“What game?” He asked, looking at you for a second, before focusing on the road again.

"The game is called “Can you resist me? and it goes like this: I give you head and if you stop the car, I win. If you cum, I win too." You leaned forward, placing a kiss on his neck. Dean looked at you again before looking back at the road. His eyebrows lifted for a second, not expecting that kind of game.

"Well, that's fucking impossible! How do I win then?"

"If we manage to get home while your dick is still in my mouth, you win."

“We still have like half an hour!” He said, knowing damn well he didn’t stand a chance. He loved your mouth too much, but still, he wasn’t about to say no.

“Well, step on it then!” You whispered in his ear and kissed him on his neck, and another one and another one… until your lips reached his cheek. He wasn’t saying a thing, he just gripped the wheel even tighter when your hand reached his already hard bulge.

He knew he was going to lose – he wanted to. You were something he thought he would never experience again. You were his laughter, his lust, his…everything. You kept him grounded, you melted his walls like royal water would melt gold. He would never say it, he would never admit it to himself because if he did, it would make everything real. He swallowed nervously when you undid his belt and zipper. Your hand went into his underwear while your lips were still placing kisses all over his cheek and neck.

“You’re going to lose, handsome,” you whispered, teasing him. “I know how much you love my mouth!”

“Bring it on,” he said in a very unsure tone. He knew you were right but still…Dean Winchester accepting defeat right away? Never.

“Eyes on the road then! Dying with your cock in my mouth sounds fabulous, but I don’t feel like dying…again.”

Dean nodded as you lowered your head to his lap and placed a gentle kiss on his tip. He was already hard and ready for you. Dean shivered when you licked the tip a few times before slowly putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck!” He whispered. Those almost 30 minutes back home seemed even longer now for him.

You started moving your head up and down slowly at first, establishing the pace. Not even two minutes have passed when you felt Dean’s hand tugging your ponytail.

Since I’ve Been Lovin’ You started playing in the car. It was the song you both refused to listen to, especially when you were together and alone. It was the forbidden song, the song that woke up the feelings you desperately wanted to ignore. You and Dean would both just casually skip it whenever it was on, no questions asked, but not this time. This time Dean was too busy telling himself not to cum to switch the damn song.

How I love you, darling

How I love you, baby

Dean’s cock was hitting the back of your throat over and over again, while your saliva was dripping from your mouth. The song mixed with his light moans filled your ears as your pace became faster.

My beloved little girl, little girl

But baby, since I've been loving you, yeah

I'm about to lose my, my worried mind, oh yeah

You were enjoying every minute of it. You loved making him crumble and weak. You loved seeing him come undone because of you.

Everybody trying to tell me

That you didn't mean me no good

I've been trying, Lord, let me tell you

Let me tell you, I really did the best I could

“Baby!” You heard Dean say. He had never called anyone but his beloved car ‘baby’ before. You would claim that nickname later on.

I've been, I've been working from seven to eleven every night

I said, it kinda makes my life a drag, drag, drag, drag

You wanted him to give in, you wanted him to lose, especially because you were growing wetter by the minute. So, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and moved it in sync with your head. The road seemed hazy, blurry even, as he squirmed in his seat.

Lord, yeah, that ain't right, now, now

Since I've been loving you

I'm about to lose my worried mind, yeah

Watch out

“Fuck this!” You heard him say and suddenly you almost lost balance and hit your head on the wheel. He stopped the car by the road. He lost.

You lifted your head, covered in your saliva, hair all over the place in a loose and messy ponytail. Dean took your head and crushed his lips on yours, tasting his precum on your lips. You kissed him back, not hiding the fact that you were smiling. Once he completely took your oxygen supplies, you broke the kiss.

“You can’t resist me!” You said.

“You know I can’t, now get in the back seat!”

“Whatever you say, handsome!” You giggled and did what he told you.

Once you stepped outside, you were hit by a cold breeze. Your skin didn’t even register how cold it was since your horniness was keeping you warm. Dean followed, with his unzipped pants, leaving his jacket in the front seat. You took off your boots, pants (with Dean’s help), and jacket, but were too impatient, too needy and pathetic, so once he was on top of you, you kissed him hungrily. He moaned into the kiss as you took the time to lower his jeans and boxers. You were impatient.

“Fuck me! Now!” You said and pressed your forehead against his as you moved your panties to the side to give him access.

Dean's hand went between your legs as his finger lightly brushed your folds, feeling how wet and ready you were for him.

“Jesus and I haven’t even touched you yet!” He said and licked his finger clean.

“You don’t have to. I get wet just by looking at you!” You said and kissed him again.

“Don’t objectify me!” He said, almost sounding offended. You laughed.

“Yeah, you’re not just a pretty face, Dean!”

“Oh really? How so?”

“You can be okay, sometimes,” you started. “When you’re not being an obnoxious jerk.”

“Sometimes?”

You smirked and started kissing his neck.

“Yeah, sometimes.” You teased.

“Good to know.”

The next song that came on was I Can’t Quit You Baby. Your lips were leaving a gentle trail of kisses on his neck as he entered you slowly. A wave of intense pleasure went through you as you moaned his name, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades and pulling him closer.

I can't quit you baby

So I'm gonna put you down for awhile

I said I can't quit you baby

Dean started to move, establishing a slow pace at first, letting you adjust to his size. He couldn’t get enough of the sight under him — messy hair, smudged mascara all over your eyes, lost in his. He found you incredibly sexy and alluring — every time you would sleep together, he’d wish it lasted forever.

“God, I love this song!” You managed to say in a whisper.

I guess I gotta put you down for awhile

Said you messed up my happy home

Made me mistreat my only child

Yes sir you did!

“Me too!”

Said you know I love you baby

My love for you I could never hide

Oh, you know I love you baby

It was getting hot in the car as you both started to sweat.

“Dean!” You whispered his beautiful name into his lips, not breaking eye contact. Something about all of this seemed different. It felt more intimate for you, more gentle. Usually, you would fuck like rabbits, and your sex life with Dean was pretty dirty, chaotic, and so fucking sinful. Dean liked when you would take control, and make him follow ‘sexy rules’ as he would call it, and you…well, you liked being in control. You liked seeing him beg, and be your little puppy.

This time was different. It felt more than just a casual meaningless fuck in the car. Eyes glued on each other, hands exploring already familiar bodies, lips swollen and red like cherries from kisses, and all that while your favorite band was playing in the background.

My love for you I could never hide

Oh when I feel you near me little girl

I know you are my one desire

Your lips formed an O as you felt it.

“I’m gonna –”

“Come on baby!”

His words sent that additional wave of pleasure, making your arch your back as you moaned his name over and over again.

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby

You know it hurts me deep down inside

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby

You know it hurts me deep down inside

Your orgasm triggered his and he shut his eyes and bit your shoulder lightly. He came inside you, filling you up, leaving you breathless.

You were both sweaty, panting — a mess.

Oh, when you hear me, honey, baby

You know you're my one desire

Yes, you are

You cupped Dean’s face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. Your reaction was just a smile – a genuine smile.

"Don't smile at me like that." He told you.

"Like what?"

"Like we just broke the deal."

" Dean, I think the deal has been broken for a while now."

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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191 notes · View notes

detydia · 5 months

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Imagine Dean Winchester x You

You get sick and want snacks.

You found yourself confined to your bed, wrapped in layers of blankets, battling a persistent cold that left you feeling weak and miserable. Dean had to leave for a short period to check on a lead for the current case, leaving you alone.

As you lay there, surrounded by tissues and with a thermometer by your side, you felt a sudden craving for comfort food – the kind that might make you feel a little better despite the illness. You reached for your phone and dialed Dean's number.

After a few rings, Dean's voice came through the phone, "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

His tone was warm, and you couldn't help but smile despite the congested nose. "Hey, Dean. How's the hunt going?"

Dean sighed. "Slow progress, but I'm on it. What's going on? Everything okay?"

You paused, feeling a bit guilty for interrupting his work. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I just... I'm feeling really under the weather, and I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Of course, anything for you. What do you need?" Dean replied, concern lacing his words.

"I was thinking maybe some snacks might lift my spirits a bit. Could you grab a few things on your way back?" You requested, your voice slightly hoarse.

"Snacks, huh? You got it. What are you in the mood for?" Dean asked, his tone lightening.

You chuckled, knowing Dean's penchant for junk food. "Surprise me. Maybe some chips, chocolate, and definitely a tub of ice cream. And, oh, grab some chicken soup if you can find any."

Dean laughed. "Got it, Y/N. I'll make a stop on my way back. Anything else?"

You thought for a moment. "Maybe a cheesy action movie? Something to distract me from feeling like a human tissue."

Dean grinned. "You got it, Y/N. I'll be back soon. Hang in there, alright?"

"Thanks, Dean. You're the best," you said, feeling grateful for his understanding and willingness to cater to your whims, even from a distance.

As the day progressed, you drifted in and out of sleep, checking your phone every now and then for any updates from Dean. Finally, the familiar rumble of the Impala pulled into the driveway, and you mustered the energy to get out of bed and greet him at the door.

Dean walked in with a small bag of snacks and a DVD in hand. "Hey, sicko. I come bearing gifts."

You grinned weakly. "You're my hero, Dean."

He handed you the bag, and yoh eagerly peeked inside to find an assortment of goodies, including the requested ice cream. "You nailed it, Dean. Thank you."

Dean plopped down on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a mixture of concern and affection. "How are you feeling, Y/N?"

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "Like a mess, but your snacks and a good movie might just be the cure."

Dean chuckled, putting the DVD into the player. "Well, you're in for a treat. I picked an action-packed classic."

You spent the afternoon together, with you nestled under the covers, surrounded by snacks and the glow of the TV. Dean, ever attentive, periodically checked on you, making sure you had everything you needed.

As the movie played, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Dean's presence and the effort he had put into making you feel a little better. The snacks, the movie, and the shared moments made you forget about the stuffy nose and sore throat, at least for a little while.

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #fluff #supernatural dean #dean fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x reader fluff #supernatural #spn

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imagining-supernatural · 30 days

Text

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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winchesterfanatic1967 · 2 years

Text

Don’t Mess With My Pie

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 421

Warnings- All the fluff

You were giggling uncontrollably as you were trying with all of your might to hold the closet door closed. Your knuckles were white with your tight grip and you were quickly realizing you were going to lose this battle. You had to come up with a solution here before things turned south.

“De,-” You giggle, “Can’t we come up with some type of agreement here?”

“No chance in hell sweetheart,-” He chuckles as he tugs harder, and the closet door opens the slightest bit, and you playfully screamed and with your remaining energy you slammed it closed.

You could hear his laughter on the outside, and your heart swelled at the sound of it. Any other circumstance you loved his laugh, but right now it wasn’t a loving chuckle, it was an evil one. You could’ve sworn Michael was possessing your boyfriend again.

“Dean,-” You giggle, “Just let me win!”

“I never back down sweetheart.”

You couldn’t hold a tight grip anymore, and you let go. His eyes lit up with mischief before you immediately began to try to get away.

“Ohohoh no no no you don’t.” He chuckled as he grabbed onto your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder, before throwing you gently onto the bed. You didn’t even get a chance to protest before his fingers dug into your sides, and your loud and hysterical laughter filled the room.

Just minutes ago, you decided to pull a little prank on Dean in the kitchen by switching out his pies for shaving cream as the topping instead of whipped cream. His face was priceless, and immediately filled with revenge.

So that’s how you ended up in the position that you were in now, and you immediately regretted your choices as his fingers danced all over your weak spots, not even close to stopping.

“I’m sorry!” You squeal in between laughter, “De! I’m sorry! Please!” You scream out as his hands ruthlessly attack every inch of you.

After some more time, he relented and hovered above you with a satisfied smirk. “And what did we learn today sweetheart?”

“That you’re a humongous bully.” You huff while slumping against the mattress in exhaustion.

He chuckled at that, “That’s right. But what else?”

“Don’t mess with baby. Or your pies.”

“Damn straight.” He said with a grin, before pecking your lips.

You playfully rolled your eyes with a smile playing at your lips. God, Dean was such a pain in the ass, but you loved him more and more every single day.

Dean Taglist- @agirlwithdemonblood, @akshi8278, @penguinlover0318, @lyarr24, @deanandsamsbitch, @katbratsupernaturalwhore, @flamencodiva, @avanatural, @seeingstarks, @nyotamalfoy, @agirlwithanangelheart, @fiftyshadesgrl, @jensenslady79, @Sensitiveorange, @winterreader-nowwriter, @nancymcl, @foxyjwls007, @stoneyggirl2, @sexyvixen7, @taylor-munson, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @this-is-me19, @gh0stgurl, @edwardsfangirl1712, @globetrotter28, @dragonprincelovr, @mimaria420, @hobby27, @leigh70, @kayyay12-blog, @parinarain, @caritobbg

A/N- My newest series doesn’t include very much fluff, so I did some brainstorming and came up with this, I hope you all enjoy :)

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x reader fluff #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #Dean Winchester x Female!Reader #supernatural #fluff #fluffy #dean fluff #dean winchester fluff #supernatural spn

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teddyeyeseddie · 2 years

Text

Just Say Thank You

Pairing: Dean X Reader

WC: 800

A/N: For the lovely @winchesterfanatic1967 <3 I am sorry it took me soso long to post! Also thank you to @lfaewrites for helping me name this!

Masterlist

She is sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, her knees pulled up as she glances out the window. She admires the way the sun paints its colors against the trees, using the imagery to distract her from the ever growing pain settling low in her abdomen.

“You okay over there, sweetheart?” Dean questions as he keeps his eyes on the road in front of him. She had been distant all day and he had taken notice. Y/N just nods her head as she turns her face towards him, offering a small smile. It turns into a wince once a sharp pain radiates through her head.

“We are almost home, do I need to stop for anything?” she internally groans when she remembers she has barely anything at the bunker to deal with all of this. She looks over at him, nodding as little tears form in her eyes. They are either from the tremendous amount of pain she is in or the sheer embarrassment of having to ask Dean Winchester to buy her tampons.

“Hey, hey why are we crying?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he pulls into the grocery store a few miles away from home.

“I-I need some stuff, it’s okay. I can run in,”

“Like hell I’m letting you run in by yourself when you’re in this state. Let me go in, what do you need?” He places the car in park, turning to face her once he has the keys out of the ignition.

“Tampons? And Tylenol?”

“Okay? That’s it?”

She just nods her head, her lip pulled between her teeth as another wave of pain courses through her abdomen.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He gathers his wallet from the glovebox, smiling at her before he exits the car. She watches him retreat into the store, a small smile finally gracing her lips as she does so.

He is quick to get back to the car, Y/N barely having any time to doze off. The Impala is put in drive and moments later they are back on the road. They’re pulling into the garage of the bunker when Dean speaks up again, he opted to stay silent in order to let her rest some more on the drive back to the bunker.

“Why don’t you go shower once we get inside and me and Sammy will make you some dinner?” he asks before getting out of the car and rounding the front inorder to open the door for her.

She nods her head and makes her way to the trunk to retrieve her bags from their hunt. Before she can make it there Dean’s hand is gently grasping her arm, stopping her from doing so.

“I got it Y/N/N, go shower,”

—-----------------------------------------

She is curled up in her bed after her shower when there is a knock at her door, she grumbles in response but the door finally opens to reveal Dean with a few bags from the store.

“Hey sweetheart, I got your stuff from the store. Why don’t you sit up really quick?” he asks as he takes a seat on the edge of her bed, setting the bags beside him. Once she is sitting up, her back against the headboard, he begins to unload the bags.

“Okay, are these the right brand? I couldn’t really remember,” he pulls out a box of her usual brand tampons, she smiles softly and nods at him which only makes him beam right back at her.

“Perfect. I got you some of your favorite snacks and some extra strength pain killers. I know you usually get a nasty migraine too so I wanted to be prepared for-” before he can even finish his sentence, she has her arms wrapped around his broad frame, face buried in the crook of her neck as she begins to tear up for the second time today. She pulls back to see Dean’s cheeks are now dusted the prettiest shade of pink.

“Did I do something right or wrong?” he asks as he lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Right, I haven’t had someone take care of me in so long and this is just too much Dean, I-”

“Just say thank you, sweetheart,” he says with a small grin. He gets up from his place on the bed and makes his way to her door.

“Thank you, De.”

“Now dinner is in 15 in the Dean cave. Snacks have been provided and our favorite movie will be playing,”

“Halloween?”

“Halloween.”

“Cuddles?”

“Cuddles.”

And if the night ended with the pair stealing kisses in the dim light of the TV, who’s to say.

Dean Tags <3

@winchesterfanatic1967 @akshi8278 @missannwinchester @thoughts-and-funnies@stixnstripesworld@lyarr24@kazsrm67@laycblack @mrsjenniferwinchester@drakelover78 @leigh70 @siospins2 @lfaewrites

@deanwanddamons

#dean x reader #dean x reader one shot #dean x reader fluff #dean x reader angst #dean x reader Drabble #Dean Winchester x reader #dean x you #Dean Winchester x you #dean x y/n #Dean Winchester x y/n #dean fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester fluff #Dean Winchester one shot #supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years

Text

The Lucky Shirt

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: You were sure you had the right bag. But turns out, when you walked head first into a wall of perfection, you swapped laundry bags with him by mistake. Now, you’re stuck with only his clothes to wear and not much time to find him again before the presentation that could change your life.

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 1600

Warning: stress from work, but mostly fluff

Squares: Laundromat meet cute for @anyfandomfluffbingo

A/n: This is the first thing I’ve written in a while, so it’s not perfect, but I’m trying to fight that writer block and my heartbreak with some fluff. I’m still working on the requests I have, I just had to write something else to try and clear my mind

It was your first apartment and it was a good deal. The rent was cheap, but you had everything you needed, a bathroom, a bedroom and a kitchen. Three rooms, small, fourth floor, a balcony opening on the road below. Nothing special, but it was your home.

The only thing missing was a washing room. Not that you had a washing machine anyway, it was already complicated to leave home to go and live alone. And there was a laundromat down the road, so there was no need at the moment.

A week after moving in, a pile of dirty clothes was slowly turning into a mountain of laundry in the corner of your room. You finally had a day off, so you took advantage of it, put the clothes in a trash bag and headed to the laundromat.

It had to be said, you always had that problem of focusing on the task at hand. While the clothes were being washed, you were on your phone, texting your boss about your next work and playing candy crush at the same time. Once the washing and drying was done, you put back everything in your bag and walked to the exit, your eyes still glued to your phone.

That’s when you hit it. The wall. Well, you thought it was a wall, with how hard and solid it was. With a little shriek, you dropped everything you were holding. Your bag was luckily tied and rolled away while your phone crashed and a broken sound echoed in your ears.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, immediately going for your phone, sighing in relief when you saw the device had no damage, as the phone case took all of it.

“Son of a bitch, I’m so sorry,” someone said and legs entered your sight. Your eyes roamed up, noticing bowlegs hidden under the distressed jeans. Up and up and you saw flannel, black shirt, and finally, perfection.

That man was beyond beautiful. Getting up quickly, you stared at him for a few seconds, getting lost in his magnificent green eyes. “It’s uh… My fault, I should be looking where I go,” you managed to mutter as you understood you didn’t walk into a wall, but into him.

“It’s fine, really, you got all the fall damage,” he grinned at you, and god, that smile was devastating. “Your phone’s okay?”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly smiled, waving your phone to show him. “It’s okay.” You stayed like that a couple of seconds more before noticing it was plain creepy to stare at him. Gosh you were so awkward. “I should be going, so… It was nice uh meeting you,” you babbled, walking quickly to the trash bag on the floor to pick it up.

“Hey, wait,” the man said and you turned your head towards him. “What’s your name?”

You pondered if you should tell him, after all, it wasn’t everyday that you met the perfect man in a laundromat. Perfect man that even asked for your name. You had to take that opportunity, go out, see him again, do something else than work…

But you were too stubborn and invested in your work for that.

“I’m late, sorry!” You said instead of answering.

It was only back home that you realized you should have told him your name and asked for his.

At first, nothing was wrong. You threw the bag in your room, planning on putting away the laundry in your drawers later. There were things you needed to do before work tomorrow if you wanted to have that holiday off next week and perhaps, that promotion you wanted so much.

Around midnight, your eyes were burning, so you decided to call it a day and go to bed. In the darkness of your room, your foot met something round and soft, and you remembered your laundry. You had to put it away before it wrinkled in the bag.

Once the light was on, you opened the bag and fetched one item inside.

“Huh?” You wondered as a green, long sleeve shirt emerged from the bag. You didn’t remember buying that shirt, let alone wash it, but maybe you were just too tired to remember. You shrugged it off and plunged your hand inside for another item. This time, a white button up shirt appeared. Your brain started to spin as you got the next clothing quickly. Ties. T-shirts. An endless amount of flannels. Men’s underwear. Black socks. “Fuck.”

As men’s clothes formed a mountain of problems around you, you realized you had the wrong bag.

Finding one particular person in this big ass town you were not familiar with turned out to be more than difficult. It was impossible.

Not only were you stuck with the green eyed man’s clothes, but you had nothing else to put on except the clothes you had on today and joggers. And tomorrow you had an important day at work, you had to leave a good impression on your boss! You couldn’t go to work with… those!

It was too late to go shopping since it was midnight. And tomorrow, your shift was way too early for you to buy clothes before it started. You had no other choice but to wear his stuff.

The next morning, it was with anxiety at the top that you put on his green shirt, noticing it was very comfortable, in the end, and picked a random pair of jogger pants. That would have to do, you were already late.

Turned out, your outfit didn’t seem to please your boss. Even if your presentation was more than perfect, flawless, even, that you worked your ass off for it, the moment you stepped in with that shirt (that was very comfortable, so much more comfortable than the tight skirt and blouse you usually wear), you knew you lost your chance, your holiday and the promotion.

But it wasn't a bad thing. Because somehow… It opened your eyes.

You put so much effort in that work, so much time, lost so many opportunities to simply live, pushed away your dreams… And for what? To get denied when you arrive in a shirt? It made you realize you didn’t even like that job. It was stressful, and it made you miserable. It wasn’t what you wanted to do. You wanted to go back to school, study and get your dream job. And it wasn’t it.

With all the overtime you did at that place, you were okay financially to quit that job and get a less stressful one while you would go back to school. So that was what you did, you quitted your job and fuck, did it feel good to be free.

You were on your way back home, feeling lighter than ever, when a familiar voice sounded behind you.

“Hey! That’s my shirt!”

Turning back, you met those beautiful green eyes again. But this time, the man wasn’t alone, there was a taller man next to him. You noticed the green eyed one had baggy clothes on, probably his.

“It’s you!” You smiled at seeing him again. What were the odds? “So, I think we mixed bags,” you laughed at his expression following the more than obvious statement you just made.

“Yeah, I think so too,” he grinned, relief washing over his face. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Sorry, I was at work, losing my job,” you shrugged, but before he could add something, you were quicker. “This is the best day of my life. And this,” you touched the shirt, “is now my lucky shirt.”

“You lost your job and it’s the best day of your life?” The other man wondered. You nodded.

“It’s my shirt, by the way,” the green eyed one muttered under his breath, his comment making you smile more.

“It made me realize what I was losing with this job,” you shrugged simply. “I wasn’t happy there. But you weren't looking for me to know about my life, right? Come on, I’ll go fetch your clothes at my place.”

Once the laundry was with their right owner, it was time to say goodbye. Only one day went by, and yet, it felt like an adventure that lasted a week. Just because you met that stranger at a laundromat and switched bags by mistake.

Who in their right mind put their clean laundry in a trash bag anyway? Like, really? You thought you were the only one.

Before the two men left, you stopped the green eyed one. The other said he would wait outside, leaving you alone with him.

“I’m still wearing your shirt,” you said, shyness filling your face with heat.

“You can keep it,” he replied. “Seems like it brings you luck. And it fits you nicely,” he winked, starting to walk away, but you stopped him again.

“Wait… Uhm… What’s your name?”

The man turned, and you met his beautiful eyes once again. “Dean. I’m Dean.”

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you,” you smiled. “Do you think I could get your number? You know, just in case there’s still some clothes we mixed,” you swayed from one foot to the other, not believing you had the guts to finally ask him. If someone told you just yesterday you would ask someone their numbers, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Of course,” Dean said as he looked for his phone in his pockets so you could write your number in it. “Only if you give me yours first.”

Yeah. That day was good. And it was official, that shirt was your lucky shirt.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @cryptichobbit

Supernatural Tag List: @cryptichobbit @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @siospins2 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse

#any fandom fluff bingo #dean winchester #supernatural dean #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader fluff #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x you #supernatural dean x reader smut #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fluff #dean winchester meet cute #dean winchester laundromat #laundromate meet cute

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love-yourself-first-tfw · 1 year

Text

Hard to Love - Part One

Pairing: MOC!Dean/Demon!Dean x Reader

Prompt: While dating Dean, he gets more and more reclusive toward you when he is given the Mark of Cain. Unable to handle the behavior, you leave but some part of him isn’t willing to let you go.

Word Count: 3883 :)

Warnings: Angst, Break-Up, Violence, Demon!Dean, lots of tears.

Author’s Note: I had this saved as a draft from the end of 2016, unfinished so I tried to finish it as well as I could. It just came out like word vomit but I’m not sure how much I like it. I tried my best to make it gender neutral so if there are any mistakes, please let me know!

Part Two

You noticed that when you were lying in bed, he had his back towards you, almost falling off the bed to get away from your presence. Unable to reach out and touch him in fear of rejection, you continued to stare at his Henley-covered back, watching his steady breaths.

"Dean? Is everything okay with us?" The question sounds weird, a lump pushing into your throat, uncomfortably. He answered with a grunt, nothing else, keeping with his recent code of silence toward you. A dejected hum leaves your lips.

Turning on your back, looking around the room at all the items -- with some of you sprinkled in-- that make it your shared room. Wringing your hands together as you think about where you can go, you can’t stay here anymore, not like this. You want to help him but how can you when he doesn’t even want to be near you?

Something had changed in the last few weeks. He wouldn't look at you, let alone talk. He wouldn’t shut up with Sam and Cas, though.

Maybe the hours of silence with me drove him to talk to them.

Dean is only close to you when you are in Baby, driving to a hunt. Not holding your hand anymore but instead gripping the wheel, knuckles turning white, not sparing a glance at you. You’d gone as far as changing the music, to a pop station nonetheless, in the middle of one of his songs, hopeful of a reaction.

Yell! Look at me with disgust! Do something, please!

But par for the course, Dean does nothing. He stares at the road, unmoving and silent while Sam and you stare at him in disbelief. The tears well up as you look at the horizon to your right, trying your best to not break in front of either man. Trying to understand what you could do differently.

You stop sitting up front. You don’t talk to him. You avoid him at the bunker. You respond with little-to-no passive-aggressive comments when Dean talks to you through Sam. You keep your crying to the bathroom and shower, alone.

You knew the Mark would change him but not like this.

He kissed you last week after a rough hunt, a close call with a witch causing a teeny moment of intimacy between you two. Both of you pulled away with wide eyes: yours in shock and his in... disappointment? He walked ran away before a talk could be had, disappearing somewhere in the main area, while you went to take a shower; a habit forming.

No matter what you try he just keeps pulling away.

Do I keep trying?

I can get my things together and leave by the next hunt. Dean won’t stop me if I want to stay home.

Home. The thought made it so much more real. This is your home; Dean is your home. You take a sharp breath through your nose, trying not to make too much noise as you got up, going somewhere the breakdown won’t bother Dean.

When Sam comes up to you in the morning, letting you know that there’s a possible ghost in the next town over, an easy salt and burn. You sniffle for effect as you tell Sam that you’re not feeling the greatest, watching his eyes drop in sympathy.

He throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward your bedroom.

“You shouldn’t be up then, dude. Go lay down, I’ll bring you some medicine before we leave, and I’ll tell Dean you aren’t coming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”

You don’t need to look at Sam to know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying but you thank him regardless, feeling guilty about what the future will be. A hug in the doorway, tighter on your end than usual, ends when he pulls away and helps you back into bed.

Sam comes back with some pills and a cup of water, ice clinking against the glass, with each stride. “Do you need anything else?”

With the blanket tucked under your chin, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna sleep it off and if it gets worse, I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay, I hope you feel better soon, (Y/N/N), and don’t beat yourself up about Dean. He’s not doing well with the Mark; he still loves you.”

You close your eyes and turn your back to him after you nod to his comment, trying to hint that he’s good to leave and that if he stays, you’d rather not talk.

“Thanks, Sammy. I love ya.”

“Love you too, (Y/N).”

The click of the door shutting follows the flick of the light switch. And more tears. Silent and steady as you listen and wait for the departure that begins the end of life as you know it.

Exhausted from the last few days of one-sided fighting, you try to fight off the sleep that takes over, but you slip under just as the hall light spills in when Dean peaks his head past the door frame.

It’s a few hours later when you wake up to a text from Sam, they’ve made it to the cozy town, and he will let you know when it’s done or if they have any problems. You let him know you feel better before wishing them luck on the hunt, getting up, and beginning the process of mission: Disappearing (Y/N).

With a sigh, you start going through the knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, sighing again when you realize that all things will just remind you of him. Anger flares within you, the white-hot rage of your hand being forced, the whole situation out of your control.

Leaving the small things and just grabbing your clothes from the closet, looking around the room for anything that could be useful on the trip. No mementos to save. You slam the door on your way out, going to your old room next, going through the same routine as before.

Two filled duffel bags sit in the back seat of your car when you finish, mostly clothes and things you’d brought with you when you moved into the bunker. Not running around anymore, the rush of adrenaline begins to fade turning into more anger.

“Why!? I don’t understand?!” You hit the steering wheel with your palms, letting out a scream that transforms into an ugly wet, wail.

A note laying in the war room, on the map table, explains why you left, addressed to Sam, in a last effort to be heard or at the very least get the last word. Your phone is on top of the note, showing the seriousness of your actions.

Sam,

Maybe we will see each other on the road again but I can’t stay somewhere I’m clearly not wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you and not saying goodbye in person. I don’t think I would’ve gone otherwise. Love ya, dude. Tell jerk face that I’ll always love him even if he has that mark on his arm, if he becomes a demon, or if he hates me. Always.

I hope the best for you in the future.

Goodbye,

(Y/N)

You wipe your nose with your sleeve, lifting your head from the steering wheel to embark on the journey to a new home.

In just a few months, you are settled in your new apartment in Colorado, taking a break from hunting to get familiar with the area. Neither Dean nor Sam gets into contact with you, whether that’s not wanting to or for lack of trying, you don’t know.

With a new job in a library in town, you try to get past the guilt that sweeps over you every now and then, reminding yourself of the way you were treated. Of why you left in the first place.

Unlocking the door after a long Monday of reshelving books, the silence of the apartment is disturbed by your keys going into the bowl next to the coat rack. You slip your shoes off before sliding your jacket off and onto the rack, turning to the living room and shouting in shock at Dean, who is standing, arms crossed, in front of the couch.

“What the hell? Why are you in my house?”

“Why do you have a devil’s trap in your living room?” He smirks, a glint in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Seems like you were expecting someone.”

You put it there when you moved in, taking a page from Bobby’s book by using invisible blacklight paint. Decided that while one is useful in front of the door, the living room was also easy to run through if caught off guard, with no door to slow you down, and no one expects it there.

Looking him over again before answering his question, his face is thinner than when you last saw him, hair gelled in a way that looks unnatural for him. His dark red button-up hangs loosely on his body.

“For this reason. Though I can’t say I expected you to be stuck in it. Who killed you?”

“Metatron. Though to be fair, I did try to kill him first.” You hum as he tries-- and fails-- to sit on the couch. “You couldn’t have made this any smaller, huh?”

The smirk on his face only grows as he feels irritation roll off of you. “What do you want, Dean?”

Now it’s his turn to look you up and down, wetting his lips before speaking. “I can think of a couple things.”

You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom.

“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking, sweetheart!”

You ignore his words and change into comfortable clothes before dialing Sam’s number, deciding that letting him know was better than waiting for any more of Dean’s antics.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s (Y/N). Dean just showed up at my house and got stuck in a devil’s trap.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Another shout from the living room brings tears to your eyes, the love of your life so close but so far at the same time.

“Just wanted to talk to ya! You gonna leave me out here alone?”

Sam asks for your address, giving you the details of what had conspired in the last couple of weeks: Dean dying and being turned into a demon, then bolting and teaming up with Crowley-- doing only God knows what around the country-- meanwhile Sam is doing everything he can to find and cure his brother.

“I’m not too far from you but I’ll still be awhile. Like...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “maybe seven hours. I’m sorry I can’t get there sooner.”

“It’s okay, I’ll keep him here. I can’t say he’ll be in a happy mood when you get here.”

“Well, he won’t be happy to see me anyway, so it won’t matter. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Okay, see you soon, Sam.”

With a deep breath, you slid out into the hallway, building up the confidence to make yourself visible to Dean.

“You can do this. Make your dinner and ignore the living, breathing, talking, statue in the middle of your apartment.” Nodding to yourself, you walk out with your chin up.

“There you are!”

Dean’s eyes follow you past him and the couch as you move to the kitchen. Keeping busy with the leftovers, you avoid making eye contact with Dean, brushing his announcement off with silence. When you put the plate of chicken and rice into the microwave, your focus drifts from the timer counting down to those vibrant pools of green, ominous black hiding behind them.

His eyebrows raise up in amusement, “You lose. Are you going to talk to me now?”

“How ‘bout no.” You cross your arms, scoffing at the question.

“You just did, baby. Now just hear me out, you said you’d still love me as a demon, but this doesn’t feel like love to me.”

He chuckles darkly at the end of his words. His demeanor changes: eyebrows pulling down, eyes darkening, and a sneer coming onto his lips.

The microwave beeps, pulling your attention away, though your words slip out before you can think about it. “I do still love you, jerk face.”

It’s not a secret or a lie, you just didn’t want to say it aloud. It had been peaceful dissociating from all that and using every waking moment to adjust to the new way of living without him, not knowing if he would ever come back.

The plate hits the counter harder than you mean for it to, tears stinging your eyes again. “What do you want from me, Dean? I left so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about whatever the fuck you felt guilty about. You didn’t want to explain it to me then, what do you possibly have to say now?”

A split second of shock passes Dean’s face before it’s back to anger. He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything, pulling the silverware drawer open and grabbing a fork.

“No, seriously. I. Don’t. Care. There really is no fucking excuse for what you put me through. So, unless you want to say sorry-- which I highly doubt, considering the black eyes rolling around back there-- shut up.” You slam the drawer: the loud noise and rattling of metals end your shouting. Taking a deep breath and beginning to eat, your back turned away from him, with a tiny, fragment of hope he actually listens.

He blows a raspberry, “Well, that’s where you are sorely mistaken. I’m sorry for what the numb nuts did to you. To think, I could’ve had you from the beginning if he’d just said a few words to you now and again.”

Your chewing stops as the food becomes a rock in your mouth, no longer able to swallow as you listen to him. Staring ahead at the balcony door as he continues spewing words at you.

“Instead of all the cheap whores in dingy bars, I could’ve had you. Waiting on little ole’ me.” It’s clear from his tone that he is mocking you, taunting your words. Even though the relationship is over, the words make your chest twist uncomfortably, your watery eyes finally spilling over.

“Whatever, have fun out here by yourself.” You leave the half-eaten meal on the counter, not sparing a glance at the man as you pass him to go to your room, keeping your head down to hide the tears that stream down your face.

Slamming the door, shoving your face in a pillow, and screaming to relieve the stress of the situation, only helps bring more cries out of you. You know it’s not the Dean you knew talking to you but the twisted and dark version, wanting what he wants with no care about who it may affect.

The darkness of your eyelids fluttering takes over you as you fall asleep to Dean’s calls to you. A dream of your life from before fills your head, one more moment with Dean that you can hope to forget when you wake.

You jerk awake when your phone buzzes from a text, the vibrations magnified by the wood of the side table. Two texts from Sam illuminate the screen.

From Sam: I just got into town I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

From Sam: Just got to your apartment. You get my first text?

To Sam: Sorry, fell asleep. 2C. Door’s unlocked for you.

From Sam: I’ll be up there soon.

When you take a moment to listen, it’s completely silent. Panicking at the thought that Dean was able to get away before Sam and you could cure him, you rush to the living room. Dean stands still, glaring at you as you appear from the hallway.

His lips are drawn into a sneer as he snarls, “how nice of you to come to see your guest.”

The door opens as he ends, catching his attention, a scoff comes from him when Sam comes around the door.

“I told you to fuck off, Sam. I don’t want you to be cured.”

Sam just shrugs, putting the duffel bag on the couch, and unloading some tools to get Dean back to the bunker with little to no issues.

“Dean, you told me that you’d leave (Y/N) alone. So, what’s that about? Tired of the demon life?”

Sam motions to you, hair crumpled from the impromptu nap, eyes, and nose red from crying. “You’ve been bar hopping for weeks on end, new people in your bed every night. Your freaking wet dream. Why are you here, ripping open an old wound, on someone who clearly doesn’t want shit from you?”

“I saw you. You were at the bar in town, with some others, didn’t even notice me when I sat down at the bar top-- can’t say your observation skills were ever the best anyway.” Dean eyes you as he speaks, watching your jaw clench at the small dig toward you.

“And then I get a call from some dude about how he caught Sam and if I wanted him back alive, I’d have to switch places with him, I told him to fuck off and came here instead. Looks like you made it alright, didn’t ya, Sammy?”

“Yup, just like always.” He puts his good hand on your back, steering you towards the kitchen.

“What the hell, seriously, Sam? What happened?”

Sam leans against the countertop, his chin resting on his chest as he takes a deep breath. You reach into the freezer for a bag of peas, wrap it in a towel, and press it to his black eye, letting him hold the makeshift icepack when he winces.

“He pulled up when I was stranded on the side of the road, I thought he was going to help but he knocked me out and brought me to an old barn, maybe?”

His head drops, no longer making eye contact with you.

“He called Dean and then when Dean hung up, he just went off.” Mocking the man who had tortured him only a day before, Sam’s voice lowers comically, “He killed my father in front of me...Two tours in Iraq in Special OPS...blah blah blah. Then he hit me a bunch, trying to get Dean’s location.”

Two tours in Iraq? Special OPS?

His pause allows you to ask your next question of many, “how did you get away?”

“He got a phone call and when he pulled his phone out, his knife fell from his pocket, and I just got out.”

A twinge of doubt and anxiety spread through you, the words “that seems too easy” on your lips after he explains. He finally looks back at you, seeing the questioning expression on your face.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He lowers the frozen peas when you make your way to the living room again.

“You mean to tell me that a solider, not just any ol’ solider at that, special OPS who served two tours in Iraq and he just dropped a knife, that let you get away?”

As if to emphasize your point, the whole house goes dark. You reach the bookshelf behind Dean, both men watching you. The few beats of silence are broken when the front window breaks, a canister rolling onto the floor behind the couch, spraying a thick, white cloud of smoke.

It reaches Sam first, harsh coughs coming from him as he yells for you to get to the backyard. Feeling the wall by the bookcase, you find the string taped to the wall that will break the seal when pulled. Feeling your eyes water, nose and throat burning, you tug the string with you as you move toward the back door, breaking the trap’s seal, and releasing Dean.

The smoke impedes your vision, your hip catches on the corner of the couch making you stumble to the floor, and more coughs force their way up through your lips.

Arms encircle your waist, and harsh whispers come over your shoulder, “Jesus, your life is in danger, and you release the demon, how sickening.” He helps you to the fresh air that burns when you greedily suck it down.

Dean’s support leaves your body, your knees hitting the moist grass that seeps through your sweatpants. When you open your eyes, you have to blink past the tears to see Sam lying next to you and Dean in front of you. An unknown voice speaks to Dean, emotional and hate-filled, “You remember me?”

“Yeah, you’re the guy from that thing.”

“We talked on the phone. This is payback.”

The two men begin to fight, Dean doesn’t even try to pull punches, continuing to belittle him, yelling coming from Cole with every hit that he takes. Sam moves, waking up from a hit to the head, eyes meeting yours before flitting to Dean. Dean taunts and throws the man’s gun to the side, winking at you before he turns back to the fight.

“...spitballing here, but maybe you’re not as good as you think.”

A pause from Dean before he laughs. “Ooh,” Dean’s hands go up in a fake surrender wave, “You know kung-fu?”

“I know everything.”

Dean gets into Cole’s face after quoting The Princess Bride, making his first mistake as Cole slices his face with his knife. Going to stab, only angering Dean more when he grabs Cole’s throat.

“You have no idea what you walked into, do you?”

“What are you?”

Knowing Dean’s eyes are black at the expression on Cole’s face, you close your eyes, hearing the rest of the fight and Cole egging Dean on to kill him.

“I changed my mind, I guess.” Dean chuckles before he breaks out in a hiss.

“It’s over! Stop.”

You open your eyes and see that Sam has managed to get the Devil’s trap handcuffs on Dean. A murderous look on Dean’s face, staring up at Sam from his knees. Sam ignores his brother’s glare, looking at you as you sit back on your heels. “You okay, (Y/N/N)?”

You nod, watching Sam force Dean into the back of Baby, unable to take your eyes off Dean, who continues to kill Sam with his unblinking, scowl.

Sam helps you up, keeping an eye on Dean so he can’t escape. “You can come with us. I’m giving the first blade to Crowley and I’m going to try to cure him. I don’t know if it’ll work but I’m hopeful.”

You look back to your house; in the scuffle to get Dean, neither you nor Sam see where Cole flees to-- the feeling of safety and home lost, now that the invasion is over.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding and speaking softly, “yeah, let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down. You might need some help with him.”

Looking back at Dean, you speak again, unsure how firm the words are. “I’ll stay until he’s cured but after that, I’m gonna go.”

Part Two

#demon!dean #xreader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean one shot #mark of cain #from my drafts #dean winchester x reader #part one #angst #dean winchester angst #dean x reader angst #dean x reader fluff #dean x #nonbinary #no gender just vibes

201 notes · View notes

fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 7 months

Note

May I request a fanfic with Dean Winchester x fem!reader, who is into cars and drives an Rx-7? She should be really sweet and innocent and her car-hobby is something you wouldn’t expect first glance. She loves drift events and works at a garage. Thank uuu!!!

Have a lovely day and remember to eat and drink enough! 💕

We Have Time

Title: We Have Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,825

A/N: Thank you so much @milkb0nny for the request!! I really got into this story, and I hope it lives up to what you were imagining.

And thank you for your kind words, I hope you have a great read and an amazing day!

A 1967 Chevy Impala.

You couldn’t help but stare, your jaw slack as you admired the car. You had a pretty nice car too, if you did say so yourself, but you hadn’t seen a freaking 1967 Chevy Impala in a while.

Your head tilted to the side as you slowly walked up to the car. You’d absolutely love to get your hands on it, but you could tell that the car was loved and well taken care of, and that the owner would probably never let another person lay their hands on it.

You were startled out of your thoughts when someone cleared their throat behind you. You whirled around in surprise and were suddenly standing face to face with two men. They were both tall, though one was taller than the other, with long brown hair. The other was a bit shorter, with cropped blond hair and piercing green eyes.

You could feel blood rushing up to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry,” you said.

The taller man smiled kindly. “No worries. What’re you up to?”

You shook your head, your cheeks still flaming. “Nothing. Well, I was headed back to work, but I got distracted and now I’m a little late, but I should be fine, I think. I just love this car and I had to stop and take a closer look and now here we are.”

The taller man chuckled at your tangent, but the shorter man was looking behind you. You followed his stare and came face to face with your own lovely car. Your 1995 Mazda RX-7.

You turned back towards the two men when you heard the blond one finally speak. “That’s a damn nice car.”

You felt pride brimming in your chest. Of course it was. You’d kept it in pristine condition, and if there was one thing that you knew for sure, it was cars.

The man looked back towards you and offered a small smirk. “You like my car, sweetheart?.”

You smiled easily. “I love it, actually.”

His smirk grew as he put on a flirtatious voice shamelessly. “Oh, yeah? You wanna go for a ride sometime?”

The taller man made a face of disgust, but you were practically jumping for joy. “Really? You mean it?”

The shorter man blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. Why wouldn’t you, though? It was a freaking Impala.

You reached out a hand, still buzzing with excitement. “I guess if you’re offering me a ride, I should introduce myself. Hi, I’m y/n.”

The taller man reached out a hand first, his handshake gentle. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

You moved your hand towards the shorter man, who took your hand in his. His grip was firm. You smiled as he introduced himself. “Dean.”

You nodded and looked back towards the car again. “So, did you mean it?”

Dean hesitated, looking you over, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I meant it. We’re only in town for a few days, but why don’t you give me your number? I’ll take you on a ride.”

Your smile widened and you quickly recited your number as soon as Dean had his phone out.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows at you. “You sure about this?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course. If you guys don’t mind me hitching a ride for a bit, obviously. I’d sit in the backseat, and I’m a good passenger.”

At that, a smile of amusement grew on Sam’s features as Dean cleared his throat. “I think you misunderstood me, sweetheart.”

A wave of disappointment crashed over you. “Oh.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, not like- I was thinking I’d leave the lunkhead behind and the two of us could go for a ride.”

“Oh,” you said again, relief filling your chest. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You could see Sam stifling laughter, though you weren’t sure why. You looked towards your phone and gasped lightly. You started walking backwards towards your car as you spoke. “I’ll definitely take you up on that, call me whenever. I really gotta go, but it was nice to meet you, though!”

You turned and ran the rest of the distance, hurriedly entering your car and driving off as quickly as possible in the hopes that you wouldn’t get fired for being so late.

From the same spot that you’d left them in, Sam burst out into laughter as Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam bent over, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t think she got the hint, Dean. Or maybe she’s just more interested in your car than you. You’re losing your touch.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, sulking towards Baby. Who cared what Sam said? You’d said yes to the ride, right? That had to count for something.

He looked off in the direction your car had gone in. “I can’t believe that’s her car.”

Sam threw him a look as he walked over to Baby and opened the passenger’s door. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. If you know how to take care of it.”

“Right. Because you’ve never even gotten a scratch on your car.”

“Hey,” Dean said warningly. “Baby’s been through some tough times, but she knows she can count on me.”

~~~

Dean stood still, staring at Baby.

Sam stood to his right, staring at the damage as well. They’d been standing here for a few minutes. The worst part about it was that the hunt was already over. There was nothing and nobody for Dean to take out his anger on.

Sam glanced towards Dean, hoping that this wouldn’t cause him to go feral. He opened his mouth to offer condolences, but Dean stopped him before he could speak.

“Not a word.”

Sam nodded silently and looked back towards Baby. It definitely wasn’t pretty.

Dean had been able to fix his car up plenty of times, but Sam had a feeling that even Dean might need some help with this one, if only so that he didn’t mope around in silence for hours as he fixed his Baby.

Not that he’d say that right now, of course. He’d wait until Dean finally stopped staring at the wreckage, first.

~~~

Dean stood a safe distance away from the car garage, leaning on Baby. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger and his arms were crossed over his chest. He’d love nothing more than to just drive away, but he’d have to come back for Sam anyway, so there was really no point.

Sam was talking to someone about the damage that Baby had sustained during the hunt. Dean wasn’t even sure what cover story they were using. He’d been too upset to ask.

Not that it mattered. They shouldn’t have come in the first place. He could’ve fixed Baby up on his own.

He still could. Maybe Sam could just walk back to the motel.

“Hey!”

He glanced towards the voice and immediately dropped his arms down by his side when he saw who the voice belonged to. He smiled, the anger in his chest subsiding slightly. “Hey yourself, sweetheart.”

You looked behind him and your eyes widened as you saw the state of his car. To say that you were surprised was an understatement. You’d definitely wanted to get your hands on that car, but you really hoped that you hadn’t just manifested an accident or something.

You looked back towards Dean. “What happened?”

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes still stuck on the poor Impala. “Okay.”

Dean looked over at you. “Eyes are over here, sweetheart.”

Your eyes snapped over to Dean. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… sorry. Anyway.”

Dean smiled slightly. “Anyway.”

You grinned. “You said you were only in town for a while, right? What brings you here, of all places?”

Dean felt a warmth in his chest, thankful that you were kind enough to try and distract him. “My brother and I are travelers. We just wander wherever the wind takes us.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “The wind picked a horrible time to send you here. There’s been a bunch of accidents lately. I’m getting a bit worried, honestly.”

Dean felt a small smirk creep onto his face. “Is that right? I have a feeling it’ll die down.”

You made a face. “Horrible choice of words.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he let out a small cough. “You’re right. Sorry.”

You shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine. Wandering where the wind takes you sounds fun, though. I’ll have to try it some time.”

Before Dean could respond, you heard someone call out your name. You both turned in the direction of the garage to see who it was. Your boss pointed towards the Impala and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout, “These boys need a hand with their car! You got it?”

You waved a hand to show acknowledgment. Your boss nodded and walked back into the garage.

Dean whipped his head around to face you. “You’re a mechanic?”

You smiled with pride. “Only the best in the business.”

Dean looked you up and down. “Is that right?”

“You’re the one with the beat up car.”

“Don’t.”

You grinned unapologetically. “Sorry.”

You looked up as Sam approached the two of you. “Hey,” he said, “is there anywhere around here where we can get some food?”

You nodded and pointed. “Five minute walk that way, you’re going to hit a few places and a market. Is that okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks.” He looked over at Dean. “Come on, let’s let her work.”

Dean looked over at you, who sent him a sweet smile. He shook his head slowly and turned back towards Sam. “I’ll stay here, help out with whatever.”

Sam made a sound of disbelief. “She’s a professional, Dean, she can handle it.”

“Oh, I know she can. I just want to see her in action.”

You blushed, looking away with a smile.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll be back.”

Dean nodded and watched for a moment as Sam walked away before turning back to you. “So. How long is this going to take?”

You shrugged and looked behind him, cringing at the damage. “Three days, minimum.”

Dean closed his eyes in pain before shaking his head. “Alright. Alright, that’s fine. We have time.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “So. What other surprises are you hiding?”

~~~

“That’s bull!”

Dean watched you fondly as you yelled at the television that was set up in the garage.

You were multitasking, watching Formula Drift as you worked on fixing up the Impala. Which isn’t what he had expected from you, but really, he should have known better by now.

After all, this was the third day that the two of you had been busy repairing Baby.

Your time together had started out quietly. On day one, when you had gotten Baby to your workspace, you’d started crooning as if she were a living thing. Dean had taken a liking to you immediately after that.

As soon as you started working, the two of you made progress quickly, much faster than he could’ve ever done it on his own. It was made even faster by the fact that you were splitting tasks and helping each other out whenever possible.

The first day of work was mostly silent, except for a few short exchanges here and there.

But on day two, you two had gotten to talking. You were an open book, no secrets or lies to you at all. Well, except for the fact that you were “sweet and harmless on the outside but a tough mechanic here in the garage”, according to Dean. You’d laughed at that, causing that warmth to appear in Dean’s chest again.

You had told Dean a bit about your life, and how your family was no longer in the picture after an accident that had happened a few years back.

“I’m sorry,” Dean had said softly.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Dean had found himself telling you a bit about his life as well. That Mary had passed away long ago, and that John had gone more recently.

You had looked at him with such compassion in your eyes as you said, “I’m sorry, truly.”

He had nodded once in acknowledgment before he’d steered the conversation towards something else.

You were easy to talk to. Almost too easy. Today, on day three of working, Dean had almost told you what he had really been doing that had caused so much damage to the Impala. He caught himself just in time, but still marveled at how easy it was to be honest with you.

Luckily, your conversation had been cut short when your boss walked in and turned the television on. “You’ve got to see this,” was all the context that she had provided before walking out once again.

Dean had glanced at the screen in surprise when he saw Formula Drift playing, and looked over at you with even more surprise when you immediately repositioned yourself so that you could work on Baby and watch the TV at the same time.

You’d been working and watching the competition for a while now, instructing Dean to hand you a tool every once in a while or giving him a job to do when you didn’t want to tear your gaze away from the screen.

But even with your focus divided, Dean could see how loving and careful you were being with Baby.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you when he saw how passionate you were with both the Impala and the competition. You were muttering to yourself as you worked, and looking up at the screen every once in a while to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

He wasn’t even really paying attention to the screen, or Baby, to be honest. His gaze was focused on you.

You threw your hands up in frustration and shouted at the screen before looking over at him. “You saw that, right? You saw that, I know you did.”

Dean nodded, not really even sure what he was agreeing to. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You huffed out a breath of anger and stood. “I can’t watch this anymore, it’s too much. We’re almost done here, do you want to see if Sam has some food for you?”

Dean looked down in surprise to see that you were indeed almost done with your work. A quick glance at the clock on the wall let him know that the two of you had been working hours.

He looked over at you. “Yeah, sure. We’ve been at it for a while, don’t you get breaks or something?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’m trying to subtly ask you if I can take my break now.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Yeah, no, of course. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

He turned away from you, but stopped when he heard you groan again. He looked back to see you bouncing on your toes as you watched the screen.

You made eye contact with Dean. “I’m coming, just give me two seconds.” You looked back at the TV.

Dean shook his head in amusement and walked back over to you, gently placing one hand on your shoulder and using his other hand to grab one of yours. He slowly led you away even as you stared at the screen.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

“It’s just-”

“I know.”

“It’s so stupid, he didn’t even-”

“I know, I’m sorry. Come on.”

“Dean, are you seeing this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Come on, you can do it, I believe in you.”

He finally led you away from the screen, releasing you as soon as the tension faded from your body.

You laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

Dean smiled back. “What’re you sorry for? I get it.”

You grinned, looking down at your feet. “How long are you staying in town for?”

Dean’s heart sped up. So you had definitely caught on to his not-so-subtle flirtations over the last few days.

You looked up and smiled hopefully. Dean had been nothing but kind and sweet, and you were hoping that he’d at least entertain the idea of the two of you spending more time together. Especially since he’d been hinting at it for a while now.

But as you watched his smile start to fade, you realized that your hopes had only been silly little dreams. Nothing more.

He looked away. “We don’t usually stay in one place for long. We’ll probably be out as soon as Baby’s ready to go.”

You could feel your heart drop down to your feet, but you forced a smile on your lips. “Yeah, that makes sense. Traveling with the wind and all.”

Dean nodded, still not looking you in the eye.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll get Baby up and running soon. I’m just going to grab some food and I’ll get back to it.”

You turned your back on Dean before he could reply and walked away swiftly. You furiously wiped at your eyes as you felt them well up.

You didn’t know why you were so upset. Why would Dean put his life on hold for you when you’d only just met? Just because the two of you had some things in common? Or maybe because he had allowed you to be open and vulnerable without judgment. Or maybe because you had seen the way that he was looking at you as you worked, even though he hadn’t seen that you were looking at him the exact same way.

You stopped walking when you knew that you were out of Dean’s sight and leaned against a wall. There was no one like him in your small town, and you doubted you would ever meet anyone like him again. Someone tough but kind, eyes haunted by his past even as he tried to make sure that others didn’t have to suffer the way he did. Someone who made you feel like you had time to take things slow, and let things click into place.

You straightened and took a deep breath. You couldn’t let this affect you. Yeah, it hurt that Dean had led you to believe that you might become something, but when it came down to it, you’d only known each other a few days. No matter how much you liked him, you had to stay focused.

Even if Dean didn’t stay, you had a job to do.

~~~

“She asked you to stay?”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, she didn’t. She asked how long we’re staying for.”

Sam threw his hands up. “Same thing! What’d you tell her?”

“The truth.”

Sam spluttered. “The truth?”

Dean made a face. “Not the whole truth, I’m not insane.”

“You’ve done it before,” Sam pointed out.

“We’re getting off topic. Look, I just told her that we never stay in one place long, and that we were leaving when Baby was ready.”

“Dean,” Sam said in exasperation. “You’ve been flirting with the poor girl for days. Now she probably thinks she did something wrong.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Sam stayed quiet for a moment. There was nothing that Dean could do to fix this. Not really. Not unless…

Sam sat up straighter. “Okay, listen. Maybe we can stay a bit longer.”

Dean shook his head. “We have a job to do, Sammy.”

“What job, Dean? We don’t have any new leads. Garth hasn’t called, and Cass hasn’t told us that the world is ending again.”

“Yeah, but-”

“We have time, Dean. Take advantage of it.”

Dean shook his head again. “Sammy, listen-”

“No, Dean, for once in your life, you listen to me. I can see the way you look at this girl. Hell, her boss sees it, too. I know our life makes it almost impossible to settle down, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.” “Sammy-”

“Wouldn’t you say the same thing to me if Jess was still around?”

Dean stayed silent. Sam was right, of course. He’d love nothing more than for his brother to be able to settle down peacefully with the love of his life.

He took a deep breath and looked up at Sam. “Alright, I hear you.” Sam nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, go get her, tiger.”

~~~

You looked up and smiled as Dean entered your workstation again.

“We’re almost done. Just a few last tweaks and you’ll be out of here.”

Dean stood across the room from you, his hands in his pockets.

You frowned in concern. “Hey. You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. But, uh, there’s been a change in plans.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Oh?”

Dean offered you a small smile. “We’re actually going to be staying here a little longer than we thought.”

You could feel your heart speed up in your chest, but tried to squash down your expectations. “Really?”

He nodded. “I still need to give you that ride, don’t I?”

You laughed in relief, allowing the flood of feelings that you’d been pushing back to move forward, front and center. “Yeah, you do. What made you change your mind?”

At that, Dean walked forward until he was standing beside you. “I think you know.”

You smiled. “Maybe. But I’d still like to know.”

Dean grinned and gently patted his Impala. “Well, Baby, of course. I need to be nearby in case you’re not as good as you say you are, so that I can make you pay for damages.”

You laughed. “Fair enough. You want to finish her up with me?”

“Obviously.”

You hummed. “We’re almost done, though. Where are you going to take me?”

Dean shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Not always a great idea to keep a first date destination a surprise,” you said, surprised with your own boldness.

Dean chuckled. “First date, huh?”

You took a step closer to him. “Maybe. Is it?”

Dean lowered his head towards yours. “Absolutely.”

You could feel warmth radiating off of him in waves, allowing yourself to be comforted by his presence as you tilted your head up towards him.

Before you could even register what was going on, your boss burst into the room. “Hey, I have a guy out here asking for help, are you-”

You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment as Dean stepped back, looking up at the ceiling to hide his flushed cheeks.

Your boss slowly backed away, pulling the door closed behind her. “Sorry about that. Carry on.”

You peered out from behind your hands and looked up at Dean. “Maybe we should save that for our date. You know, just in case my boss decides to walk in again.”

Dean smiled, the warmth in his chest stronger than ever before. “Don’t worry about it.

We have time.”

A/N: Part 2!

405 notes · View notes

wandering-winchesters · 1 year

Text

Who Did This To You?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 4,077 (Oops) Summary: Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out? Trigger Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, bruises and brief mention of blood. Requested: No, just something I thought up. A/N: I am really happy with how this turned out, please let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist

I press the accelerator down further, hot tears brimming in my eyes, frantic to get back to the bunker. Back to safety and Sam. I need to talk to Sam, he always knows how to calm me down. My boyfriend, Chris and I had fought tonight and it had been bad, he had gotten in my face and screamed at me over the smallest thing. I put up with it for almost an hour, before I got up and left. What had started out as utter rage had slowly turned to gut wrenching sobs throughout the long drive home. I pull into the driveway for the bunker, parking next to the Impala and quickly making the walk from the car to the door. I unlock it quickly slipping inside, I kick my boots off at the front door and head to the kitchen hoping to find Sam. Much to my dismay, the face looking back at me is indeed not Sam, but the other Winchester, Dean. He looks up at me, his eyes searching my face and his brows drawing together when he notices my expression and the tears on my cheeks. I sniff, quickly wiping them away but it’s too late, he’s already seen them.

“Where’s Sam?” I ask, drawing on every ounce of strength within in me to keep my wits about me for a few more minutes. Dean takes his time to answer, taking a sip from the beer he is holding as he studies me carefully. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, waiting anxiously for his reply.

“He went out for a bit, said he needed to get out of the bunker. Can’t say I blame him.” He says, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before taking another sip of his beer. I give Dean a short nod and mutter a thanks before turning on my heel, intent upon heading straight to my room but his voice stops me once again.

“You’ve been crying.” He states, matter-of-factly. I freeze in my tracks, weighing my next options carefully. Why does he care? He’s seen me cry before and it hasn’t exactly made him kinder to me. I square my shoulders and turn around to face him once again, his eyes still locked on me. He looks as if he is carefully analyzing my every move, every breath I take and every word that I speak. He’s leaning against the counter top, one leg bent resting on the cabinet behind him. His arms crossed across his chest, supporting the hand that’s holding his beer.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my voice a bit more volatile than I initially intended. I am too tired to put effort into being nice to him, a sentiment that he rarely ever gives to me. He is slightly taken aback by my words, a fact made obvious by the way he holds his hands up to the side, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“Just thought you might want to talk about it, since Sam isn’t here.” He replies, his tone soft and gentle, something I’d never received from him before. It wasn’t like we were enemies or anything, but he didn’t particularly care for me and I shared the same sentiment about him. We butted heads over everything, he always tried to hold me back on hunts, making me feel incapable and inferior.

“Ill be fine.” I mutter, moving to walk away once again, and once again he stops me his words cutting through me like a silver knife.

“Did he hurt you?” He asks, his voice unreadable, but his face screams danger, depending on my answer. I look at him, my eyes searching his face for any explanation of where this was coming from, but he’s impassive other than anger. I don’t trust my voice, so I shake my head no. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he hadn’t physically hurt me, he didn’t need to his verbal threats were enough.

“I’m just going to go to bed. Thanks anyways.” I say and he nods slightly but he’s not fooled. I turn and actually walk away this time and make it to my room before my tears start to fall again. I sit down on the edge of my bed pulling my phone out of my pocket, intending to send Sam a text, but I am distracted by the multiple messages flooding the screen. Beginning with anger and threats, before changing to apologies and begging for my forgiveness. I toss my phone onto the floor, too tired to deal with the nonsense tonight. The interaction with Dean replays in my head, his kindness strange and cause for reflection. It isn’t as if he was ever a complete asshole to me, but he was never fond of me. I had always been Sam’s friend and Dean just put up with my presence. Neither one of them ever intended for me to start hunting with them, it was a matter of wrong place wrong time. Sam and I had met in college and I went looking for him when he disappeared from classes, the week I found him happened to be when the yellow eyed demon came calling a few years ago, and I had stuck with them ever since. Intent upon learning everything I could about the supernatural. Sam had welcomed me in with open arms and Dean had been dragged along kicking and screaming, metaphorically speaking. Well, mostly metaphorically, he did a lot of yelling. So the concern Dean had for me tonight, was well concerning. It was throwing me for a bit of a loop, curiosity sparking within me. Did he actually care about me and his disdain for me was just a front? No, surely not. I had been with them for three years and this was an utter first. I brush the thoughts aside and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will over take me. Hours later, it finally does.

I wake to knocking on my door, I yell out a muffled come in, and Sam sticks his head in, his expression apologetic.

“Hey sorry to wake you, I am about to head out but I wanted to check in on you before I do. Dean said you were upset and looking for me last night, you could’ve called me Y/N, I would have come back earlier.” I had sat up in bed to look at him and he had opened my door the rest of the way. I smiled softly at the tall man standing in front of me, his hair messy and the collar on his flannel offset.

“Its okay Sammy, you have a good night out?” I ask and he grins sheepishly, nodding his head in response.

“Yeah, actually, I met a girl at the bar. I am heading back to her place now actually. You doing okay?” He asks me, his smile contagious. I chuckle, shaking my head slightly, but smile back at him.

“Yeah I am good, go get ‘em tiger.” He laughs at my response, and jogs off down the hallway yelling a see you later over his shoulder. He had forgotten to shut my door behind him, I sigh throwing my blankets to the side and standing up beside my bed.

I stretch my body, groaning slightly as the tension in my shoulders works it way out. I throw on the jeans I had worn yesterday, before finding a new shirt to wear, I settle on my favorite green tee, a memento from my college years. I pick my phone up from the floor, scanning the mass of texts and calls all from one person. Before sending him a quick message,

8:33 A.M. I’ll be over shortly, I just woke up.

I take a deep breath and grab my keys from my dresser and head towards the entry to the bunker. Dean is in the kitchen again, this time making himself breakfast. He gives me a slight smile as I walk past him towards the door. I smile back but keep on my path to my boots, still left haphazardly by the door where I had tossed them last night. “Need breakfast?” Dean calls from the behind me, I look back over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, skillet in one hand, towel in the other.

“Not hungry, thanks though. I’ll be back later!” I say, beginning to head out the door to the bunker. I hear him call out something along the lines of ‘be careful’ but I don’t stop to question it, our interaction from last night still weirding me out.

In hindsight, I should’ve gone back inside this morning. Had breakfast with Dean and ignored Chris’ frenzy of messages. Going over his place this morning was probably the worst idea I have ever had, it hadn’t gone well, worse than I had ever imagined. His messages to me last night and this morning had me convinced that he would apologize for his actions and yet that is the farthest thing from what happened. By the time I had gotten there, he had switched from apologetic to angry again. Instead of his words, he let his fists do the talking. The first time catching me so off guard it knocked me off my feet successfully splitting my lip, the second time I had dodged his blow, stepping out of his reach and yelling at him to keep his hands off of me and trying to leave. But the third. The third landed square on my jaw, knocking me unconscious.

I had come to from Chris shaking me and crying apologies. His touch sending waves of nausea through me, revolted by the thought of him. Glancing at my reflection in the surface of his coffee table I noticed the rapidly forming bruise. A mark that would serve as a vivid reminder of his actions and my inability of acting like a good, obedient girlfriend. Or so he said, after spending the morning accusing me of cheating on him with Sam. No matter what I said, it wasn’t enough to convince him that we were just friends and he had just lost it on me. I had left in a rush when he went to the bathroom, leaving everything but my phone and my keys behind on his couch. The ache in my body spurring me to move faster out of his place and into the safety of my car. The seconds it took me to get from his living room to the drivers seat, felt like an eternity. I had driven as fast as I dared back to the bunker, checking my rear view mirror constantly watching and waiting for him to appear behind me, but he didn’t. So here I sit, outside the bunker, debating the best way to get into my room without someone noticing the bruises still forming on my face. Not wanting the attention or, more likely the “I told you so’s” from Dean. I grabbed the hat from my passenger seat, tugging it low over my face. I rearrange my hair, framing it around my face in such a way that it covers as much of my jaw as it can. I take a deep breath and exit my vehicle, taking the few steps required into the bunker.

I shut the door as quietly as I can, taking soft steps towards my room. I hope to make it into the safety and silence of my room without anyone noticing, I am not even sure who is home at this time but I don’t want to see either of them. I had nearly reached the safety of my space, but I head Dean’s door swing open behind me.

“Y/N, you’re home sooner than I expected. Sam isn’t back yet.” He says and I freeze in my tracks, praying he doesn’t continue the conversation.

“Okay, thanks!” I say, my voice coming out shrill and unsteady, the opposite of what I was trying to sound like. I hear him move to close his door, but he hesitates and I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.

“What happened to your jeans? Why is there blood on them?” He asks, and I internally curse myself out for my stupidity. I had wiped my hand across my thigh after wiping the blood off my busted lip. I must have taken too long to give him an answer, because I hear him moving closer to me and I close my eyes waiting for the moment that I had hoped to avoid. “Y/N, look at me.” He says and I can feel him ever so close to me. I turn around, keeping my eyes trained on the ground and my face angled away from him. He reaches out and gently grabs my chin, pulling it towards him so he can see me. I bite my tongue to keep the slight gasp from slipping past, his touch on my bruised jaw causing a ripple of pain to travel throughout my nerves, but he notices and his touch lightens. The opposite of his face, his expression darkens, eyes traveling over my skin. His other hand comes up and pulls my baseball hat off my head, revealing all of the color spreading through my skin, reds and purples mainly at this point in time.

“Who did this to you?” He growls, not waiting for a response his hand drops to my wrist and tugs me behind him. I follow his lead back towards the kitchen, when we get there he points to the counter muttering one word through his angry stupor, “Sit.” I don’t, but he doesn’t notice immediately, his attention turning to something else. He walks over to the freezer and digs out the ice packs that we kept frozen for any injuries that might surface.

When he turns around, his eyes are trained on me, a scowl engrained in his features. He sets the icepack down, before he turns to me, grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the countertop. I am caught off guard by his actions, a gasp leaving my lips from his sudden movements. His hands on my hips the most amount of physical touch that has ever been shared between the two of us.

I train my eyes to the floor, not daring to meet his gaze. He had stepped away again, digging through the cabinets for what I think is the first aid kit. I begin to let my thoughts wander, the dull ache in my jaw pulling me back to the moment that it happened. The pure evil hidden behind his eyes, the look of absolute enjoyment he had as he watched me struggle, his hands rough and violent against my body. But I am snapped back to reality by Dean’s gentle touch, his fingertips gingerly raising my chin to look at him. Tears are beginning to form in my eyes, adrenaline wearing off and emotion taking back over. I take a deep breath, hating the way my lip quivers, still dreading showing weakness to the older Winchester. He notices, he notices all of it, but he doesn’t say anything. He gently wipes away my tears and brings a cold cloth to my lip, cleaning up the cut from the first punch. I can feel anger radiating off of his skin, even though his touch is displaying the complete opposite.

“Did Chris do this?” He asks, his attention moving from the split in my lip to the gash on my forehead. I hiss as he wipes it clean, an antiseptic wipe pinched between his fingers, he mutters a slight apology, but continues patching me up.

“Yeah, he did. He lost it on me this morning, over nothing. It’s my fault though, I ignored all of his messages after I came home last night, so he was angry.” Dean freezes, his fingers stilling on my skin. I look up at him, confused as to why he stopped and I notice his jaw is clenched so tight that it has to be painful.

“Don’t ever say those words again, you hear me?” He locks his eyes on mine, fury absolutely radiating off of every inch of his body. “None of this, none, is your fault, you got it?” His words are sharp and pointed, his intent clear. I nod in response, he obviously didn’t want to hear anymore, got it. I would keep my mouth shut.

He continues patching me up, before he stills, looking me over from head to toe once more. He hands me the ice-pack he had laid out and instructs me to keep it on my jaw. He turns his back to me and washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Where does the fucker live?” He asks, his voice low and so calm that it scares me slightly.

“Why Dean?” This is when he snaps, the anger that has been coursing through him coming out in one big tsunami of a wave, now that he knows I am okay.

“Because I am going to go beat the absolute hell out of him, show him a bit of his own medicine.” He says, each word leaving his lips like a bullet leaving a gun. Dangerous and aimed at one specific target.

I sit quietly, unsure how to respond.

“Why? I didn’t think you’d care this much, figured-“

“Oh for fucks sake!” He interrupts me and I jump from the sheer volume of his voice, he walks back over to me and stands directly in between my knees, he rests his hands on my thighs and his eyes meet my own once again.

“I have always cared about you Y/N, from that day you showed up at our motel. Your search for Sam finally at an end. I have watched you let men into your life that don’t give two shits about you, I have watched how they treated you and I have hated every single one. None of them deserve you, they are all pitiful excuses for boyfriends. I heard you crying to Sam, each time one of them broke your heart and I had to sit back and not do anything about it. You deserve more than anyone can give you, including myself. Which is why I never said anything, I kept you at a distance. I can’t do that anymore, I can’t keep watching you put yourself into these situations. God, if you hadn’t left, he could have killed you. Probably would have killed you, and then I never would have been able to tell you that I-, that I love you.” He says, his voice growing less angry after each word leaves his mouth. My brain is spinning by the end of his speech, his words swirling around my head making me dizzy. He squeezes my leg gently, causing me to snap back to reality once again.

I blink at him, once, twice, three times before his words finally settle over me and I am completely speechless. I never saw this coming, I admit I have feelings for him, but I had pushed them so far away because of his hatred for me.

“Dean, I-I don’t know what to say. I always thought you hated me, so I supressed my feelings for you, I dated other men because I thought you would never want anything to do with me. I’m sorry, that I hurt you. I love you too.” I whisper, my hands coming to rest on top of his. He tugs me towards him, his fingers digging into my hips and sliding me across the counter into his embrace.

“God, Y/N, I am so sorry he did this to you. He will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.” He says, his voice barely registering because of how quiet he is speaking. I can hear how close he is to tears, but don’t mention it to him. I hug him back and relish the way his touch makes me feel. How safe I am in his presence, every fear melting away.

I hear the door to the bunker open and Sam calls out a greeting. Dean pulls away from me slightly, but keeps his hand resting on my thigh.

“In the kitchen Sammy.” He calls out, and gently squeezes my leg in reassurance.

Sam rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes locking on my bruised face and anger quickly replaces the initial shock.

I look away from him, shame creeping over me. I put myself into the situation and this was the outcome, now both of them are aware of what I got myself into and it is crashing down on me in waves. I hear Dean talking to Sam, explaining everything that had happened. By the end of it, both boys were rearing to go track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine, or worse. Little did we all know, they were about to get their chance and they wouldn’t even have to leave the bunker.

A knock sounds at the door and Sam trails off mid sentence, glancing between Dean and myself, an obvious attempting at asking if we were expecting someone. Neither of us were, and suddenly it hit me. He’s here, he had followed me. My heart is in my throat, my breathing is heightened and shallow. My eyes meet Deans and he knows exactly what I am thinking. “Stay here, sweetheart. Sam, let’s go.” He says, giving me one last look before the two of them walk out of the room and towards the source of the incessant knocking. I don’t listen however, I slide down off the counter and hurry after them. Not wanting to be left alone and waiting to find out the outcome of this visit. Dean throws open the door to the bunker, immediately grabbing my now ex-boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and pushing him backwards away from the entrance. Sam is quick to step outside next to Dean, the boys creating a wall between me and Chris. Dean withholds the fury of his fist and issues quite a few colorful threats, instilling a healthy fear into Chris. He pulls him up by his shirt again and shoves him towards his car. They stand, watching him leave before turning and heading back into the bunker. Sam is quick to be by my side, pulling me into a hug. Apologies flying from his lips. I reassure him that I am okay, my eyes remaining locked on Dean. Hoping that the moment that we had shared wasn’t a one time thing, dying to once again be in his arms.

I excuse myself from the two of them, heading to the bathroom to clear my head. I spend a few minutes in there, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. Taking breath, after breath, trying to pull myself together. The whirlwind of a day, completely blindsiding me. I open the door to the bathroom and scan the hallway, empty. I take a chance and cross the hall towards Dean’s room. Knocking on the door and being beckoned in by his voice on the other side of the door.

I open the door and cross the threshold, closing the door quietly behind me. His eyes are on me immediately and I stare back at him, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Four words hang heavy in my throat, fear of rejection constricting my voice. I clear my throat and finally utter the words I had been thinking.

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did, Y/N. I will always mean it.” He whispers, and that is all it takes for me to cross the room and throw my arms around him. He immediately hugs me back, tugging me as close to him as physically possible. His lips press against my forehead, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth his body provides is all consuming and like heaven on earth. A feeling that I had never had before, it was clear that this was where I was meant to be.

“I will always keep you safe Y/N, I promise you that. I love you.” Dean says, his lips brushing against my skin as he speaks. I knew he meant it with all of his heart and that was more than enough for me.

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alexsoenomel · 1 month

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POV: Date night with Dean ❤️

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1000roughdrafts · 15 days

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hi! sorry i thought of another. don’t hate me! but could i please request reader and either sam or dean (writer’s choice!) where they’re newly together with reader and they’re asleep spooning and reader gets her period overnight and when they wake up it turns out they ruined both their pants and reader is feeling all embarrassed and upset but sam/dean just hugs them and is like "please, of all the blood, guts, and gore i’ve ever had on me, this is nothing!" and it’s all fluffy and sweet even though the brother is kind of out of their depth with the situation? (sorry i woke up to an unexpected visit from aunt flo this morning and i’m dying for fluff lol)

I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out, Anon.

Warnings: mention of menstruation and blood, fluff

Word count: 789: a cute little, short one this time.

The floor creaks under Y/N’s foot as she tiptoes to grab her bag next to the door of his room. "Shit,” she whispers under her breath, scrunching her face as she slows her movements even more. All she wants to do is get herself cleaned up before her boyfriend of only three freaking months wakes up and discovers the blood on her pants.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice cracks when he calls out for her in his half-sleeping state, “what’re you doin'? What time is it?” he asks, snapping out of it.

“Uh,” she freezes, the air conditioning of the bunker roars, and she’s thankful it fills in for her silence, “a little after four,” she says in a whisper, evading the first question.

“In the morning?” he yawns, slowly shimmying his way to sit at the edge of the bed.

She contemplates just telling him what’s going on, but she has no idea yet how she’d respond, and right now, she just couldn’t possibly bear the embarrassment that would come if he’s the kind of guy that’s grossed out by that. So, she lies, “yeah, but you go back to bed, love. I’m okay.”

There’s a click as the lamp turns on, a yellow light filling the room just as he lets out a groan. Dean brings his body to an upright position, “not if you’re up this early, you’re not,” he jokes, but his laughter is replaced with nerves when she doesn’t even smile. “Seriously, you okay?” he asks, wide eyes dropping down to the bag she holds at her waist.

“Uh, I… it-” she stumbles over her words because how the Hell is she going to explain to her new boyfriend that she was trying to get a quick shower to wash off the period blood’s surprise visit before he woke up?

He tosses the blankets off of his lap, planting his feet firmly on the cold, hardwood floor. Y/N’s face fills with a warm, deep red when she notices the blood stain on the crotch of Dean’s pants. She should have known that could happen. They had their most peaceful sleep yet, and she remembers waking up in the same little spoon position she fell asleep in.

She lets the bag fall as her hands fly to her face, “ugh,” she groans before pressing them tighter, the contrast of cold hands on her hot face feeling like the light at the end of the tunnel. She mumbles something into her hands.

“What?” he says, “sorry, I didn’t understand what you said.”

Dropping her hands, she closes her eyes and swallows hard, “I got my period while we were sleeping,” she says quickly. She dreads his reaction but opens her eyes slowly.

“Oh!” he sighs, eyes going back to the bag to see a tampon sticking out of the side of it, “that’s what this is about? Jesus, Y/N! You scared me. I thought you were trying to jump ship or something,” he says, the bed squeaking as he lifts himself off of it. He takes a few careful steps towards her before placing his hands on the back of her hips.

“Wait,” she leans back against his hands, “you thought I was trying to sneak out?”

He raises his eyebrows with a small shake of his head, “well, what else was I supposed to think?”

She lets her anxiety out in a shaky laugh, “I - no, I just wanted to take a shower and change my clothes,” she starts, but pulls away to point at his pants, “but, ugh, I can’t believe it got on you, too! I’m so sorry, Dean. If I had known it was coming, I could have prepared better. I’ll buy you a new pair of pajama pants, though,” she raises her hands to cover her face again, but he grabs them by the wrists and pulls him into his chest.

“No, Y/N, it’s okay! They’re just pants,” he says, looking intently into her eyes, “please, of all the blood, guts, and gore I’ve ever had on me, this is nothing!” he smiles, bringing her hands up to his lips to kiss each one before planting a kiss on her forehead. “Come on,” he says, releasing her from his grip, “I’ll take you to the bathroom and you can shower or take a bath, whatever you need to do, I’ll get you some tea if you want, our clothes in the wash, and a towel in the dryer,” he says with a big, sleepy smile.

She loses herself in his eyes, the corners of her lips turn down out of pure awe and appreciation for how he’s responding with such sensitivity. "You're truly amazing, Dean. How did I get so lucky?"

"I think I'm the lucky one here." Dean smiles, going in for another kiss. “I’m gonna get you that tea.”

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