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little-diable · 3 months

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Not a Ghost - Dean Winchester (smut)

I feel like my Dean fics are always just pwp, but I always try to weave in some plot points, promise. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For the past ten years, Dean had been forced to accept that she was dead – dead because John hadn't been able to rescue her in time. But what happens when he stumbles upon her in a bar? Not a ghost, but alive and breathing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, reunion, John is a dick as always

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“You’re staring, it’s getting creepy man,” Sam murmured his words as he gulped down another sip of his beer, eyes following his brother’s line of sight. Dean didn’t reply, eyes fixated on a woman standing a few feet away. The bar was crowded, packed with people neither Sam nor Dean wanted to interact with, and yet Dean’s eyes had been following her around ever since they had stepped into the bar almost an hour ago. “Dean, c’mon man.”

Sam’s hand met his brother’s arm, hoping to finally gain his attention, but Dean barely reacted. The older Winchester brother had his eyebrows furrowed, hand wrapped around the beer bottle he had barely drank from. It wasn’t the first time Sam had caught his brother admiring a woman, god, Dean was famous for loving “frisky women” after all, and yet this was something new, something Sam couldn’t understand.

“Excuse me.” Dean rose to his feet, leaving his confused brother behind without explaining a thing to him. Sam could only watch Dean move through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the woman whose face Sam hadn’t seen just yet. It was too loud for Sam to pick up on the words Dean spoke, words that forced the woman to slowly turn towards him.

“What the fuck?” With the words rolling off Sam’s tongue, he jumped to his feet, full of confusion, not understanding what was going on. But before Sam could reach the two, she had tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling the man out into the cold.

“How is this possible?” Dean’s words dripped with confusion, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from her. It was too dark for (y/n) to pick up on the tears welling up in his piercingly green eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness washing through him, the sadness he had tried to swallow for the past decade.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be breathing, wasn’t supposed to be alive.

“How is what possible? You have the fucking nerve to speak to me again after ten fucking years of silence? You packed up and left, Dean!” Her angry words left Dean choking, taking a step back as if she had pushed him. For a second neither of them spoke, engulfed in silence and the sound of Sam slowly stepping closer. The taller brother kept his distance, yet he found himself just as overwhelmed by his emotions, unsure how to react.

“What are you talking about? You are supposed to be dead, I mourned you for ten years, and now I find you here, alive.” Dean’s words dripped with anger, but Sam could clearly pick up on the sadness that thumped through his brother’s veins. This was fucked up, another level of fucked up.

“Dead? Dean, why should I be dead?” No longer was (y/n) close to screaming, she took a step closer to Dean who struggled to keep standing still, body begging him to move away from her. If Sam hadn’t been with him, he would have been sure that this was just his mind fucking with him, hallucinating the woman he had once been engaged to, the woman he had mourned for a decade. But as much as Dean wanted to speak up, to explain what was going on, he couldn’t, too choked up.

(Y/n)’s now glassy eyes flickered to Sam’s, desperate for an explanation as she watched the taller brother take another step closer to interfere. He kept his voice calm as he spoke up, eyes flickering between Dean, who kept staring at her, and (y/n), “It was a Tuesday evening, dad came home after his hunt with you and told us that you died that day, that he had burned your body because there wasn’t any time to lose. He explained every detail, how you had been torn to shreds, how he had tried to save you, but was too hurt himself to react quick enough. I stitched him up that evening, he looked horrible, littered with scars, so there was no doubt, he must have told the truth.”

The gasp that left (y/n) was almost louder than the sob that tried to leave Dean, reminded of the day that haunted him every single night. Tears dripped down both their cheeks, eyes now unable to break contact.

“He, uhm,” she had to clear her throat, trying to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. “That day he told me that you no longer wanted the engagement, but didn’t know how to tell me and that you left that night with Sam. I was so angry, so I also packed up and left, I couldn’t stay. John was with me for a few weeks.” Both brothers could still remember how they had packed their things, how Dean had been driven on by the need to disappear from the house that reminded him of (y/n), and how Sam knew that he couldn’t stay away from Dean, not knowing if he’d try to hurt himself. They hadn’t tried to get in touch with John for a while, guided by the anger of him not being able to save (y/n).

“I will kill him.” Goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin at the tone of Dean’s voice, an unfamiliar tone, full of hatred. But Sam couldn’t blame Dean for his anger, he had been right there, watching his brother suffer for years on end, trying to drown his hurt in alcohol and one-night stands, addicted to hunts and the distraction they offered. Before Sam could even try to speak up, (y/n) had slung her arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

……

“It’s alright, Dean, I won’t let you leave. I promise.” Her voice echoed through the apartment, eyes set on Dean’s face. Sam had made his way back to the motel he and Dean were staying in, while Dean had driven (y/n) and himself back to her place. Neither of them could stop touching one another, still not believing that they were reunited after all these years.

“I don’t know what to believe if I’m being honest, sweetheart. Deep down I always knew he was fucked up, but this? All for what?” Only now did Dean pick up on the hesitation tugging on her features. He rose to his feet with a huff, hand combing through his hair as he growled a raspy “Unbelievable”.

“In those few weeks, he stayed with me, he tried to convince me that he was the better choice, that you had nothing on him. Of course, I didn’t give in, I guess that’s why he eventually left. And I haven’t heard from him since.” She didn’t dare meet his angry gaze, fumbling with her shaking fingers. (Y/n) tried to stop herself from crying once again, knowing that as much as she had struggled the past years, Dean has had it much worse, mourning the person he had wanted to marry.

“I should have known, he was always fascinated by you, some weird obsession I should have paid more attention to. I am sorry, sweetheart, so sorry.” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze. She didn’t get a chance to reply, words stuck in her throat as Dean kissed her breathlessly. The moan clawing through her urged Dean on, pressing her against the kitchen island.

(Y/n)’s fingers found their way to his hair, tugging on his roots with as much strength that forced a growl out of Dean. They couldn’t part, didn’t want to break the kiss, it had been too long since they had gotten the chance to communicate their emotions in a raw way like this. But as much as they wanted to keep on kissing one another, they were also desperate for more, for Dean to bury himself deep inside of her.

“How do you want me?” (Y/n)’s hazy eyes found his piercing green ones, tongue running along her lower lip. She pondered over his words, not once in the past ten years had she believed that she’d get another chance to be loved by Dean Winchester, and now she didn’t know what she wanted. Too many things she needed, too many choices he offered her. His fingers worked on her shirt, tugging it over her head, groaning as his eyes found her chest. Within seconds he had ripped her bra from her frame, lips finding her hardening nipples.

“Fast, rough, fuck, I don’t care. I just need you inside of me.” She had ached for that familiar stretch, had ached for the feeling of his cock filling her, something she had thought of for all these years. Dean hummed, letting the sound vibrate on her skin as he palmed her breasts, while he nudged his hardening cock against her clothed cunt. Curses ripped through (y/n), head rolling back to let go of another heavy moan.

Without another warning, Dean pulled away, turned her around and pressed her front down against the cold surface of her kitchen island. With quick fingers he had pushed her jeans and panties down her legs before she heard him unzip his jeans, before she heard him fumble with a condom wrapper, knowing that as much as he wanted to feel every part of her, they couldn’t risk anything, not now at least.

“I’ll give you fast and rough, baby, but after that I’ll take my sweet time with you.” Dean had pushed into her before she could reply, forcing a deep moan out of the both of them. Both their bodies needed to adjust to one another, even though she was dripping for him, folds covered in her arousal, her cunt still struggled to take all of him. Deep breaths left them both, minds torn between the sweet sensation and the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through them.

“Move, please. Fuck me like you would have done all these years.” The growl leaving Dean made her breath hitch in her chest, fingers reaching for the edge of the kitchen island to hold on. He pulled out of her only to thrust into her with more force, set on leaving bruises on her hips with the ferocious pace he was about to build.

(Y/n)’s walls clenched around him, fluttering with every thrust that had her seeing stars. No other man had ever fucked her like Dean. Dean, the one she had always loved. Dean, the man she had wanted to grow old with. Dean, the man who had mourned a woman who had waited for his return for all these years. If there was one thing (y/n) was determined about, it was making things right, making up for all these lost years.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing Dean to fuck her deep, hard, fast. It was perfect, cheesy almost with their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Dean’s fingertips were buried in the flesh of her hips, set on leaving bruises that matched those the kitchen island would leave behind. He was focused on marking her up, claiming her like he had done over a decade ago.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good. I dreamt of this almost every night.” Dean’s raspy voice left her groaning, eyes squeezed shut to try and hold on. She didn’t want to cum just yet, didn’t want to let go when Dean fucked her this ruthlessly. (Y/n) was too choked up to reply, wanted to tell him how she had always dreamt of him, of the way he touched her, but she couldn’t, she could only moan for him.

“You’re still so fucking tight, squeezing me just right. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” An almost silent “Yes” managed to leave (y/n), coaxing a chuckle out of Dean as he let his fingers find her clit, rubbing her bundle to push her over the edge. She loudly moaned for him, giving into the call of her arising high with her eyes squeezed shut, walls clamping down on his cock.

Dean kept fucking her, forcing his cock deeper into her with every thrust. Moans kept clawing through the both of them as (y/n) came on his cock, allowing Dean to fuck her through her high in search of his own. He kept thrusting into her, head rolling back as his cock twitched, about to fill the condom. The curses leaving Dean made her walls flutter once again, knowing that he’d fuck her all through the night.

With a huff, Dean pulled out of her, throwing away the condom as she slowly turned around, facing him. He moved back towards (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips, hands cupping her warm cheeks to pull her in for a slow kiss.

“You’re still wearing it.” (Y/n) murmured the words as she reached for his hand, looking at the ring she had pushed onto his finger as he had asked her to marry him, wanting Dean to also wear a ring. Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes, thinking of all these years they had lost, years they could have spent together rather than apart.

“Of course I do, I couldn’t take it off, I didn’t even try to.” (Y/n) gave him a soft push back, redressed herself quickly before disappearing in another room – only to reappear seconds later. His green eyes found the ring he had bought her over ten years ago, unable to bite down his smile as she came to a halt in front of him, eyes finding his.

“If you will still have me, I’d like to start wearing it again.” A choked sound left Dean, lips finding hers as he took the ring from her, pushing it back onto the finger it had once rested on all too comfortably.

“I’ll always have you, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #Supernatural smut

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

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— KEEP THE LIGHTS ON

SUMMARY : “Hi!! First time requesting a fic so if this is dumb.. well yeah. A fic where Dean and the reader are about to do it (😏😏) and hes very focused on her thighs/hips area and she's got stretch marks there and he traces/kisses/grabs them? It's rough, intense, and passionate? 😳😶 okay love you and your writing byeee 🏃‍♀️” — anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), smut, as always unspecified skin colour and weight (lol),

WORD COUNT : 2.0k

A/N : close your eyes song title. I loved this request as soon as I got it, and that’s why it didn’t take long! I’ve seen some stretch marks are lighter than the skin and others are darker than the skin and also that they feel like grooves so, I hope this is okay! *insert Scott Pilgrim and the L-word scene bc I can’t say ILY* AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Xx

You’d never been so comfortable and confident with a man before. Comfortable with yourself. Confident in your own skin.. Every insecurity you had in every other aspect of your life, sex-releated or not, flew out the window because you knew Dean.

He had a way of making you feel beautiful all the time. Either with his facial expressions when you caught him staring, his words when you were alone, his actions at any chance he had to get his hands on you. He was very expressive, wordlessly so, and gesticulating.

You had to get to know the real him to understand him and, you know… he’s complicated. He’s guarded, but beneath all that there’s a soft centre to him, like a brownie. And overall, he’s sweet and good and soft. Perfect. Like a brownie.

Eventually, getting a read on him gets easier, but not entirely easy. Which is why he was currently taking your breath away with his lips moving down your neck and his hands tangled in your hair as he guided you down the hallway to his room. But only after admitting he’d been wanting to get you in his bed for years and you’d be damned if you let your fears and worries get in the way of getting your first taste of him after pining for him almost as long as he’d carried a torch for you.

You had to be stupid to believe that Dean was shallow and cared only about a woman's appearance or attractiveness. You never thought you weren’t enough all those times Dean left with or hit on any women but you. All you thought was that he simply didn’t see you that way, which was only half of the truth. He wanted something more than one night with you and he just didn’t have the guts to tell you so.

But tonight, after a sleepy hangout at the Dean Cave, after watching a variety of movies that Dean liked—movies he excitedly wanted you to enjoy as well when you said you’d never watched them before. And then going to the kitchen to get more snacks for the next film…

Well, you don’t really remember what led to it, maybe you said something in your exhausted state. Or maybe he did. You had a feeling that if you made the first move and confessed something you wouldn’t have in the right state of mind, he’d hold it over you and tease you about it—if everything went well.

Or maybe it was just a buildup of every little thing that the two of you shared with each other and all the history and all of everything else that you were.

Now that you had his mouth on yours, quick and firm and desperate for attention and for a taste of you… You had a feeling making your stomach flutter. To some extent, the two of you were very aware of each other’s feelings and still decided to do nothing about it.

What a waste of fucking time.

Still, something about waiting made this much more intense. Your skin ignited at his touch when his fingers snuck up into your shirt. Your flesh became warmer and warmer after each rapid heartbeat, excitement from his wet, breathy kisses. The air in your lungs failed to escape correctly, failing to reach the full capacity of oxygen the more thrilled you became.

You wanted to devour him whole. But all you could do was kiss him back with as much passion and fervour as you possibly could. Your palms smoothed up scarred skin, flushed and warm and taut. Your nails scratched and your fingers tugged at anything of his that you could hold onto.

When you got to his room, he’d made your head spin more than it already was from his kiss when he pushed you into his bedroom door to shut it.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned against your mouth and your breath audibly hitched. The sound of his voice, the way he spoke that pet-name to you made your stomach clench and your clit throb. Or maybe it was the way he pinned your lower body to the door with his hips and the way he held your gaze when he flexed his hand beneath your shirt, his fingers spread across your ribcage.

His other hand moved back up to your cheek and his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. Your lips parted at first when he did that and your eyes searched his curious eyes longingly, but he seemed to be on his own mission. You bit your lip anxiously instead as you attempted to maintain eye contact, your cheeks burned when his green eyes dropped down to your lips. All you could feel was his erection pressed into your soft skin through the flimsy layers of his pyjama pants.

And then his cock twitched.

It was driving you crazy.

Being this close to him felt like a chemical reaction. You bubbled as he came into contact with you and you could probably evaporate into nothing if you were just a reactant. You never thought you’d feel consumed entirely by a person as if they were a reagent. You’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else but Dean who made you feel this pathetic.

Your eyes reacted faster than your body when Dean dove back down to capture your bottom lip. He sucked on it softly and rolled his hips into you and you breathed shakily against his mouth at the combination of pleasant sensations that occurred simultaneously.

You buried your fingers in his hair and then you felt his own gripping your hips tightly. God, you wished he’d dig into you and mark you permanently, but instead your thoughts ran through the imaginary engine of a plane and turned into smithereens when his tongue entered your mouth.

He lifted you up and his hands slid roughly from your ass to your thighs. You clung to him and kissed him hard, pouring yourself wholly into the kiss until he drunkenly stumbled to his bed and dropped you into it. All the while, he was still completely attached to you and getting more desperate now that you were as malleable as dough in his expert hands.

He pulled away from you breathlessly, lips parted and wet and red and perfectly kissed. His cheeks puffed a little and he had a tiny smile that shined mostly in his eyes when they fluttered open. You thought you’d be sucked right into his dilated pupils as he admired you beneath him, but he went right back to your neck and your cleavage while his hands pushed and pulled away at your clothes to get you naked.

For the fraction of a second, your body snapped out of the trance he’d placed you in when you felt his fingers trace and dip gently into the marks on your skin. The magic was gone only for a few moments when you opened your eyes to him between your bare legs, he looked up at you in surprise. Surprised at your reaction.

“What?” He frowned at you. The cute pout made your eyes brighten and your body relaxed once more as you smiled down at him.

You were hesitant and he was patient. And then his expression mirrored yours, smiley. But he was so soft, with those crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and those dimples above his pillowy lips. He didn’t even make a big deal out of it and that made you release a soft breath and with it, the tension disappeared from your body.

“Are you sure?” You asked him, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip. He lifted a brow at you before both brows came together in amused confusion. He slowly pulled himself up your body and shamelessly dropped his hips at your centre, practically grinding his covered erection against your bare, wet core.

You inhaled sharply and he smirked at you. He slid his forearm up beside your head to balance his upper body above yours and continued to brush his thumb against the lines you were more than familiar with that resided at your hips.

“Wanna hear it explicitly, is that it?” He murmured, his tongue dipping out to pull his lower lip into his mouth. Then he planted his teeth on the shimmering, plump flesh. What a journey.

You were amused when your eyes flickered back up to his and you pulled your own lip between your teeth. He was cocky and maybe it didn’t help that you were a mess beneath him, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard in my bed,” he told you. Your eyes widened slightly and you breathed unevenly as he rocked his hips against your heat. “But first, I’m gonna memorise every inch of your body and I’m gonna make you wait ‘til I’m satisfied. And only then,” he whispered, dropping kisses along your cheek and jaw, “I’ll give you what you want.”

You licked your lips and allowed Dean to move lower to pepper kisses along your breasts until he slowly made his way back down between your legs. Part of you wanted to whine when he brushed his fingers over your stretch marks again, but there was something about how casual he was about them that made you want to see where this was going.

“What do I want?” You grinned down at him just as his lips made contact with the lines in contrasting colour to your skin. He smirked and looked at you through his lashes. His warm breath tickled your thighs when he chuckled and you shivered, bumping his bicep playfully with your knee.

“Me, I hope,” he answered, almost bashfully. He buried his fingers into your hips and pulled at your skin, following the lines that decorated your body while keeping his eyes on you. You squirmed as he continued to touch and mouth at your stretch marks. “But mostly, my dick.”

You laughed, “what?” And Dean nipped at your hip, along a few lines on either side of your body and your body shuddered pleasantly.

“You asked what you wanted. I said: me and my dick,” he recapped for you playfully. You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help smiling. Dean went from playful to sexy and dragged his lips down your pelvis. Your hips wiggled in anticipation and your breath became shallow, but Dean only breathed against your soaked cunt. “If… all ‘a this proves anything.”

The warm air slipping between his lips aroused you to the point of wanting to pull his face between your legs and trap him there with your thighs. You felt yourself turn hot at his words, both from embarrassment and from lust.

“Dean, please,” you begged with a whiny laugh.

Instead of replying with something witty, he swirled his tongue around your entrance with a moan. You felt his spit and you held your breath when he flatted his tongue and dragged it up to your clit. You closed your eyes and arched your back when he sucked and flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit.

And then it was all gone and your body became loose once more. You opened your eyes to Dean pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the freckled skin you’ve always wanted to kiss and mark with your mouth when you patched him up on hunts.

Before you could get your hands on him, he got out of bed and pulled his pants and boxers down his legs swiftly. He barely gave you time to see, to admire what you came to accept as the prettiest cock you’d ever seen.

“I told you,” he smirked, slipping between your legs and lowering himself on your body to kiss you. “I’m takin’ my time.” You groaned in protest against his lip, but eventually every complaint you had on taking it slowly dissipated from your mind as he pushed and pulled at your body in ways you didn’t think you’d liked until he began working your body.

You didn’t want to admit it, but dammit… Sex with Dean was better and more satisfying than the sex you had with any other man.

You couldn’t tell Dean that. Never. It’d go to his head. Rightfully so, but still. All you could think about is the embarrassment he’d cause you to feel by reminding you, every chance he had—with that smug smirk of his—about how good you said he makes you feel. Better than any other man.

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grilledcheeseandtomato · 2 months

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Finally Giving In (Dean x Reader x Sam)

summary: you're close friends with the winchester brothers, and have been sleeping with dean for awhile, what happens when sam wants you too?

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, gn!reader *except that a belly bulge is mentioned*, eiffel towering LOL, pet names (baby, sweetheart), let me know if i missed any!

word count: roughly 1k

A/N: GUYS ITS MY TUMBLRVERSARY!!! i can't believe i've been here for 3 years (feels like it's been forever though). i've NEVER EVER posted my writing on here, i've been too nervous...but today i'm changing that :))

here's a litte nsfw fic with the winchester brothers (that i literally started writing in a sudoku book while i was at work...?) ok ily guys please feel free to leave feedback <3

you're face down, ass up, dean pounding you into the bed. completely cockdrunk, you don't even notice his younger brother walk into the room until dean chuckles.

"i see you're finally giving in," he says with a smirk.

you understand him through your haze, confused why he'd be saying that to you.

dean leans down to whisper next to your ear, "you gonna let sammy have a turn?"

you moan, finally realizing what's going on, clenching around dean while turning your head to face sam. he looks nervous, but once he meets your eyes, his demeanor changes. sam's eyes rake down your body as dean continues to fuck you.

"let me have her," sam rasps.

dean groans but relents, knowing how much his brother wants this. with one final (hard) thrust, he pulls out, leaving you a whimpering mess. sam walks over to you, and turns you on your back with gentle hands. still fully clothed, the man towers over you. you start sobering up and realize what's actually about to happen.

you've always wanted both of the winchester brothers in unholy ways, but would gladly take just dean. now you were about to take your sweet sammy too. you feel a wave of heat rush through you, flushing your skin. sam has a warm smile on his face, all his love and desire for you evident.

you smile back, "hi," you whisper.

sam laughs softly, "hi."

you reach out and grab the hem of his shirt, "can i take this off?"

he nods immediately. you had seen both the men shirtless before, but never had the oppotunity to really look at sam. you trace your fingers over his abdomen, sliding your hands over his v-line. he feels his cock twitch, and as much as he wants to take things slow, he can't wait any longer. he slides his pants off, then pulls you even closer to him, letting you feel just how hard he is in his boxers. you gasp at the slight friction, still on edge from dean.

sam wraps your legs around himself, grinding into you without breaking eye contact...you feel like you could melt. you whine, eager to see him-to feel him.

"i know baby, i know."

his voice is like honey, and you just want a taste. as if he can read your mind, he leans down to kiss you softly as he slides his boxers down, and when you separate, you glance down to see the most beautiful cock you have ever seen (sorry dean). sam is long and thick, and you silently worry if he will even fit. he slides his cock against you with a groan, becoming more impatient by the second.

"is this ok?" he says, his cock sitting at your entrance.

"yes, please sammy."

he curses as he slowly slides into you, taking it as slow as possible, as you're already hissing at the stretch. once he's buried to the hilt, he gives you a second to adjust, before carefully pulling out.

both of you, completely lost in pleasure, seem to forget that dean is in the room, until he speaks up.

"fuck, this is even hotter than i thought it would be," he drawls, walking to your side. "does sammy feel good sweetheart?" he says as he brushes your hair back from your face.

all you can do is groan and nod, a smirk forming on both the boys' faces. as sam picks up the pace, your mouth is permanently open in pleasure, and dean sees an opportunity. he comes to kneel beside you on the bed, and you turn your head to watch him stroke his cock. when your eyes meet, his grin grows.

"you want me baby?"

you nod, scrambling to pull him closer. the second you get his cock in your mouth, you moan around it, the salty taste hitting your tongue.

sam, just a little jealous that he no longer has your full attention, lifts your legs over his shoulders and presses forward, the deeper angle making tears start to form in your eyes. you can feel him deeper than you ever thought possible, as he reaches a hand around to press down on your belly.

"you feel that?"

you pop off of dean with a, "yes!"

sam chuckles, feeling a little cocky, "you ever been this deep, dean?"

dean grumbles, "course i have."

he guides your mouth back to his cock in annoyance at his little brother. between sam's ministrations and the pure filth that is you sucking dean's cock, you can feel yourself getting close. sam feels you clench around him, and knows what's coming (literally LOL).

"mmm, i'm close too baby. where do you want it?"

"inside!" you say around dean, the added vibration making him moan.

"fuck...me too sweetheart? want me down your throat?"

you nod eagerly, feeling that a few more thrusts might get you there. and that feeling is correct, because soon you're reaching your high, squeezing sam like a vice and moaning around dean. the boys both take a few more thrusts, and finish at nearly the same time, filling you up from both ends. you feel warm and fuzzy inside, whether that's from their cum, or from your love for them, who knows.

dean pulls out first, and sam follows, leaving you gasping in an attempt to calm down. dean leaves to go get you a glass of water and a washcloth, as sam softly kisses your face and neck.

"i've been wanting you like that for so long sweetheart," he mumbles into your skin.

"me too sammy, thank you," you say with a soft smile.

he smiles back and leans in to kiss you, the urgency gone, but the passion still there. you tangle your hands into his hair and pull back, giggling. you can't believe you finally get to have both your boys like this...

A/N: AHHH OK i hope you liked this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i just recently started watching supernatural, so i hope this isn't too ooc, but i just love these two so much! feel free to leave feedback!

#baby's first smut #(at least on tumblr)#sam winchester smut #dean winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader x sam #spn smut

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hjpslytherclaw · 1 year

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Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

#hjpslytherclaw #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter imagine

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alexsoenomel · 9 months

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Silly Little Nightmare (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff)

Summary: You have a nightmare and you go to Dean's room

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: death and fluff (sounds about right, eh?)

Word count: 1.1k

Note: Found an old fic I wrote years ago. It was horrible so I did I little editing. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

Not being able to sleep was a must in your book every night. You struggled with insomnia, nightmares and exhaustion your whole life and now living with two brothers in a cold bunker in the middle of nowhere didn’t help your situation whatsoever. The bunker was your home during the day, but a fucking nighmere during the night. The water in the pipes circling around your room made it almost impossible not to focus on the damn sound and cold air was trying to creep into your bones no matter how thick your blanket was – sometimes you hated it.

One night it got the best of you, it almost tore you apart completely and drove you to the brink of madness. When you decided to forcefully get yourself into a deep state of sleep by taking melatonin there it was: the dream – your worst nightmare. It started off as a pleasant scenario set in the late 50’s for some unknown reason. You and the older Winchester were on a mission to kill a creature who happened to have the ability to time travel. The younger brother wasn’t there; your brain was clever enough to take everything you love away from you – step by step. It made everything too real; every sound, every touch and every damn emotion seemed enhanced. It took you and Dean to a dark alley, similar to the ones where the worst killings and robberies would happen in real life. It made you think that Dean was the bad guy; it drugged you to the point where you couldn’t see nor hear straight. How the fuck did your brain manage to do that? You were a fucking masochist so maybe that was your answer. You couldn’t hear his voice, begging you to believe him and you didn’t see the expression on his face when you first took out your sharp knife. He looked like someone else – a monster in a human form with sharp teeth and yellow eyes, but it wasn’t Dean. He tried to run, but you were faster; he tried to fight you, but you were stronger in this universe. When you stabbed him it felt like cutting a piece of cake – surprisingly easy. You didn’t hear his hard groan but as soon as he hit the ground it was time to wake up and see what you had done. Your eyes were yours and true again as well as your ears, but you…you were far from yourself. He was laying there, blood all over his shirt and mouth, he was already far away from you. His eyes were open and empty. He was gone.

“Dean?” You got on your knees. “DEAN?”

Nothing. His groans and short breaths stopped. He wasn’t moving anymore.

“DEAN PLEASE?! Wake up?!”

“DEAN?”

The tears seemed so real and yet so foreign. Like a few drops from a cold autumn’s rain on your cheeks, but at the same time that familiar feeling of sorrow and emptiness hit you. Your body became weak, he wasn’t moving. He was gone.

You woke up. Sweat. Tears. The anger…everything hit you all at once. Shaking your head, desperately trying to pull yourself together and catch your breath, you got up and went to the hallway. It was pitch black; the darkness was overwhelming making you frantically wander. He was your first love, and first loves we tend to not forget nor get over it easily. Love sometimes wasn’t what poets make it to be; all happy and sweet as candy – it sometimes left scars, sometimes deep and more painful than any other childhood trauma you may have experienced.

No one knew about your love for Dean besides your heart. Sam was a friend, or even the brother you never had but Dean was the other side of the coin. If you could explain why he made your heart work faster you could but that was the thing about love, it was unexpected and unexplainable. The life you lived, the things you had seen, you couldn’t risk losing the friendship you had so you just buried it deep in your mind.

His room was the first one to the left. You gently opened the door and the silence was immediately replaced with soft snores coming from the bed.

“Dean?” You whispered, closing the door. “Dean?”

The sheets started moving in the dark as you sat next to him. “(Y/N)?”

“I’m sorry I-I…” You remembered the dream again. You saw his lifeless body again. “I had a nightmare.” With your sleeve you whipped the tears trying to not sound as pathetic as you thought you did.

“Hey, comere!” He pulled your arm and moved to the other side of the bed. You went with him under the covers feeling his warmth on your skin immediately. He smelled like mint with a dash of alcohol plus something that screamed Dean – a mix of leather and gunpowder. He wrapped his arms around your small frame pulling you closer to him.

You would hug here and there, but never like this. This was intimate and yet familiar.

“It was about you.” You said pressing your forehead against his chest.

“The nightmare?”

“Yeah, I killed you. I thought you were a monster and I killed you.” The tears started creeping in again as you tried your best to keep it together.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” He said softly. His chin was resting on top of your head.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. It’s just…” You couldn’t see him and you didn’t want to, you felt stupid. A grown ass woman crying over a bad dream – even worse a hunter.

You lifted your head up and feeling bold you placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry.” He was still a silhouette but his eyes were on you while he was trying to restrain himself from kissing you. You weren’t the only one who had deep buried feelings in the pits of your mind. He was hooked the minute you two jammed to Ramble On by Led Zeppelin in the Impala one gloomy Sunday night after a successful hunt.

“It’s…It’s okay.” You couldn’t see but he was flustered.

“Can I stay? Please?”

Something in his gut punched him, so he went for it. He kissed you. Not in the sweet ‘I have wanted to do that for a long time’ way, but ‘please never leave me I love you’ way. At first it felt like someone pushed your face into a candy bowl but with the sweetness and a light minty flavor there was also the pleasure that came with it. It literally took your breath away and you couldn’t help but moan a little.

“Stay and never leave.” He said.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn drabble #spn fanfic #dean winchester #spn fluff #supernatural fluff #spn fic #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester fluff #dean x Reader #dean x reader fluff

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raz-writes-the-thing · 3 months

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Anything You Need (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x GN!Reader (no Wincest) / requests are open

Summary: The boys discover you've been having some... unpleasant thoughts.

Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort

Potential Triggers: mentions of suicidal thoughts and regret over not having perished to the MOTW

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not that many things made you cry these days. You'd seen some shit, that's for sure. Mothers pinned to the ceiling in flames, vampires being beheaded, babies crying out for family members that wouldn't come home- and spirits that cried out for company and whose sadness waded through towns like thick, boggy, slimy water.

None of that made you cry.

Almost having the sweet release of death and having it ripped from you by your partners in (quite literal) crime, however? That. That made you cry.

The boys, they chalked it up to you having a near-death experience and copping a few new badass scars in the process. They thought it was shock at first. And it probably was. At first.

But the hours ticked by and you were ushered back into the safety of the Impala and, well, the shock wore off. You'd almost died. You would have been grateful for it, to be quite honest, but no. They took that away.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, leaning over the back of the front seat to look at you, curled up and watching the window with a fairly dead-inside expression on your face. "You can't still be upset. We almost die every damn week- so tell us what's up, huh?"

Your eyes shifted from the window to the door handle. If you pulled it you'd fall out onto the road and get flattened like a pancake by that semi crawling up the Impala's ass.

"I'm fine," you replied thickly, not making eye contact.

"All due respect but that's a load of crap," Dean said, scoffing to himself. You could see Sam watching you in the rearview mirror as he drove along the highway. He knew something serious was up. It was only a matter of time before he pulled over and sat you down for a big long chat about your feelings.

"All due respect but I don't care," you replied back before the words had registered in your head. You regretted them as soon as they left your mouth and the clenching of his jaw and flash of hurt in his eyes as he looked to his brother for help just lodged that heavy stone of guilt further into your gut.

"Sorry. I'm- I've not been myself lately," you sighed, not wanting to get into this but not feeling as though you had much of a choice now. "You-you ever just... wanna die? Like, not actually die, but you just feel like it sometimes?"

Dean was quiet, looking at your knee as he processed the words. Sam's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror again.

"Yeah, I've felt that before," Sam said after a beat, avoiding his brother's piercing stare. "I get why you didn't, but you could have told us."

You dropped your head onto the car door, huffing out a grunt because to be honest- that was all you could muster right now.

"Fuck, I didn't know I was living with the Downers' Club," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. He didn't mean anything by it, of course. Humour was his coping mechanism. He was quiet for another moment. "Shit, I- you know I'm not good with the whole words thing. Hang on-"

Then Dean set down his father's notebook and clambered over the back of the seat, landing unceremoniously next to you with a grunt, mumbling something about mud on the leather.

"Wh-Dean-" you said, moving to make room for him. He just shushed you, set his feet down in the footwell and turned you around so your head was in his lap. You looked up at him, melting into his touch. He put one hand under your head, bracing you and making sure you didn't get a neck-ache, and with the other, caressed your hair, massaging at the scalp.

"No good with words but I'll be damned if I don't know how to play with someone's hair. Sammy used to love it when he was a kid. Used to get these nightmares 'n nothin' would calm him except me touchin' his head. Little weirdo. Got damn good at it, though."

You snorted, but you couldn't deny the magic he was weaving with your nerves, untangling them and braiding them back together. You felt your muscles slowly start to un-tense, and your eyes drift closed with pleasure.

"We're always here for you, darlin'," Sammy said, reaching a hand back and over the seat to brush your cheek comfortingly. It looked like an awkward angle, and it was gone a moment later, back on the wheel.

"Absolutely," Dean said reverently, looking down at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel it warming you up from the inside even with your own eyes closed. "Anything you need."

#yes i am struggling lmao and yes i am sort of venting #winchester brothers x reader #sam x reader x dean #sam x dean x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #spn fic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester x dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sam winchester x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 months

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Three Peas in a Pod

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader x Jared Padalecki (no J2 action)

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, poly relationship, brief smut (not explicit or detailed but it's there)

Request by anon: Hi so can i request a J2 x reader one shot where the reader is a normal girl who is dating Jensen and Jared but the fan never seeing her face only hear her voice like twice because she is super shy and introverted person but Jensen and Jared convince her to go to a comic con and the fan meet her for the first time and instantaneous like her? Something fluff and romantic between J2 and reader

Summary: It's crazy to think a celebrity wants you but two of them? Being in a relationship with them is the best thing to happen to you, and all they want to do is tell the world about it.

Square Filled: poly fic (2022) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

Never in a million years did you think you’d end up in the situation you’re in. It all started when you were out grocery shopping when you ran into Jared Padalecki. He had just given his kids back to his ex-wife when he decided to do some shopping for the week. You had the last of an item in your hand when you barrelled into him, dropping and shattering the item. He felt so bad that he offered to give you his that he grabbed.

It was like something clicked in the air because you two couldn’t get your eyes off each other. You were a stuttering mess but he was so confident in both of you that he asked you out right there and then. It all happened so quickly but when were you going to get another chance like this? You were a small-town girl who was noticed by a huge celebrity.

Of course, you said yes.

He took you on a romantic dinner date overlooking the bustling city. You’re not a talker since you like to keep to yourself, but he kept you talking all night. It’s as if you two were best friends rekindling a friendship. He made you laugh, made you feel beautiful, and was super charming. Supernatural happened to be on your “watch later” list but you’ve seen many spoilers and videos of him and Jensen.

What they said about him is true. He’s super lovable, loves hugs, can make you laugh, is dorky, and loves eating. Being with him makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world. How can things get better than this?

He took you back to his place for some intimate drinks where his roommate and best friend, Jensen, lives. Jensen is also newly divorced but is open to looking for another relationship if not something temporary. Being in the same room as Sam and Dean Winchester was a little overwhelming but the alcohol dulled those senses so you could enjoy the evening.

Meeting Jared was like love at first sight if you’re into that sort of thing, but meeting Jensen was something completely different… something raw and vulnerable. He tugged you to him subconsciously because he made you feel alive like you could jump off a cliff and be completely fine. You’re not sure if either man felt the same as you were feeling but you weren't going to say anything to them to scare them off.

They set out some games to play while playing an irrelevant TV show in the background. It was friendly at first until the alcohol promoted Jensen to suggest a stripping game. One thing led to another, and the game was long forgotten. The only thing that mattered was the three of you at that moment.

All you could think about was Jared’s lips on your neck, his hand massaging your breast and tugging at your nipples until they were pebbled and ready, Jensen’s tongue on your pussy, and his fingers digging into your thighs. They used you like a cock slut that night but you were more than okay with it. One thing led to another and you’re now dating both of them.

It’s your first polyamorous relationship but you three make it work.

With you having a job that you can work remotely for, they’d take you whenever they had to do interviews, press junkets, and conventions. You’re not one for the spotlight so you’re content with being backstage while they take all the glory. They have yet another convention that they brought you along with, so you’re in the back room watching a video they made recently.

Jensen and Jared talked about serious issues going on in the world currently and how they would take small steps to try and eradicate some of those issues. They are part of a group that works on removing plastic from the ocean, they donate some of their time at food banks and local shelters, and they donate money to groups looking for resources to make the world a better place.

“Listen, these are real-world issues that we need to start taking seriously today. These kinds of events can affect our children and our children’s children,” Jensen says.

“Jar, Jen, dinner is ready,” your voice comes from off-camera.

Jared and Jensen look at each other and just laugh. They’ve been really careful not to give an inkling of their relationship but then things like this happen and it can’t be helped.

“We’ll be right there,” Jared clears his throat.

“We gotta go. That's our girl.”

They leave it at that, and the comment section is raving about them being in a relationship. There are a few other videos where your voice can be heard but you’re never seen. Most of the fans are happy that the boys are happy, and since it’s 2023, being in a poly relationship isn’t that unusual. All of the fans are wondering what you look like but you’re not ready to give that out just yet.

“Hey, we have to go on now,” Jensen says from the door.

You put your phone away and approach Jared with a smile. He pulls you into him and kisses you. He keeps it short and sweet but Jensen is the completely opposite. He kisses you for much longer and in a more intimate way. Jensen is a good kisser with all the practice he’s gotten on you.

“Okay, don’t suffocate her,” Jared playfully says.

“Break a leg, you two,” you grin and watch them leave.

There is a big TV in the back where you can watch what’s going on stage, and you clap when everyone else in the audience does when they walk on. This convention is going like all the others with them telling stories from set, from their lives, and fans asking all kinds of questions. There comes a time when a fan stands up and asks a question regarding you. You knew it was coming sooner or later, and you’re curious how the boys will answer it.

“When are we going to see Y/N? No pressure on you two or her, but just curious.”

“She’s a little camera shy,” Jensen chuckles. “She’s here. She’s backstage but she doesn't really like cameras.”

It’s true, you hate them. Maybe you can give them a little something instead of a full-face reveal. You walk out of the backstage room and over to the edge of the curtains so you’re still hidden from the audience. Jensen and Jared see you creeping up on the curtain, and you stick your hand out to wave at them.

“There she is,” Jared laughs.

Everyone cheers for you which brings a smile to your face. After two seconds, you run back to the room you were in, and Jensen watches you go with a smile on his face.

“We’re working on that part of her,” Jensen jokes.

Maybe one day you’ll be more open to meeting fans and taking pictures because they seem to genuinely love you already, and it’s all thanks to your boys.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #jared padalecki x reader #j2 x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jared padalecki fanfiction #jared padalecki fanfic #jared padalecki fluff #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn #supernatural fic

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writersblockedx · 2 years

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Careful What You Wish For

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - Dean's been pining for his best friend for years now. Though, it isn't until he breaks out from the Jinn's dream world (in which she took the role of his girlfriend), that he comes clean. - Based off 2x20 Warnings - None I don't think (lmk if there are.) Words - 2.5K

A/n - I know I’m a little late, but I’ve just finished binge watching the first four season of Supernatural. I wasn’t really going to write any fics for the show, but this idea came to mind so.

MASTERLIST

Dean should have realised something was wrong when he woke up in the same bed as his best friend, surrounded by walls that weren't covered in tacky motel wallpaper. He didn't know it yet, but he was in a reality that wasn't his own. One of which he would soon learn was much better - at least so it was seen such on the surface.

Dean had attempted to wake Y/n, slightly nudging at her side that had only prompted her to stir, mumbling something the boy couldn't make out. So, he rushed from the bed, around this apartment he truly didn't recognise. Once he finally located his phone, he rang his brother, thinking that was his life line. But as Dean rushed out the words of 'Jinn' and other jumbles of words that this Sam didn't understand, the phone call ended, leaving Dean just as much in the blue as he had been prior.

"What's going on?" A voice had asked. Dean swirled on his feet, facing his best friend.

She wore only a t-shirt which hung by her thighs. His t-shirt. "Honestly, wish I knew." Dean muttered in reply as the girl wondered towards him.

His breath was suddenly caught in his throat when her hands wrapped around his neck. "Do I even want to know what time it is?" She questioned, a smirk gracing her lips.

He was barely able to shake his head, his thoughts bound to the girl in front of him. The girl who had been at his side for years. Who'd sit in the passenger seat of the car, fighting over what music to listen to. The girl who he just so happened to have been pining over for them many tormenting years.

Dean wasn't sure what sort of magic was in the mix, but he thanked God for it.

Y/n leaned into his lips and Dean could have sworn his whole body halted, just to catch up with what was happening. And by the time she pulled away, it was too late to settle into the feeling. "How about we get you back to bed, hm?" She encouraged.

The boy nodded, "Yeah, yeah." He agreed as she started stepping away from him. A part of Dean wasn't sure where he might wake up. Whether it would be here, in this apartment he wished he could know as home, or whether it would be that tacky motel room. "I've just got to check something."

Y/n glanced back at him, flashing a smile, "Okay." And then she disappeared back into their room.

The boy was taking a moment. His eyes scanning the living room where he found a certain photo that made all else seem like nothing. He moved forward, taking it into his grip as if to check it was real. A family photo with his mother. His living, breathing, mother. Maybe that was when he knew this was all too good to be true. He just didn't want to believe it yet.

Y/n had been quick to call Mary that night. With the smashed photo frame and the great escape Dean made, she had no idea what was going on. And the girl would be lying if she didn't say it worried her.

The only thing that got her through her shift the next day being the text Dean had sent her, assuring that everything was fine. She still left work early. No text would be certain to calm her mind. Yet, as she pulled up to the family home, birthday present in hand, her thoughts had yet to simmer.

Dean was sat on the steps to the porch, nursing a beer. He stood to his feet as the girl exited the car, wondering towards him. "Not going into work either?" She questioned him with one raised brow.

The boy shrugged and sent an uneasy smile. "Got the day off."

"You didn't tell me." Suppose running out the house in the middle of the night didn't give much time to. "You scared me last night, Dean, with that little runaway act." She admitted to him.

A sting of guilt hit Dean. Something he attempted to supress. "I'm sorry, but I promise I'm fine now, great actually." He assured.

Y/n didn't believe one word of it. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the girl could sense something was off. Her palm reached his forehand, checking for any sign of temperature. "What are you doing?" Dean inquired as he took her hand, lowering it from his temples.

"Checking for fever." She answered with a deadpanned expression that urged a smile to the boy's lips.

"I'm fine." He repeated. But it seemed no matter how many times he would say so, Y/n's mind wouldn't ease.

Yet she sighed in defeat. "Well then, since she's your mother, you should probably give her this." The girl untucked the present from under her arm, passing it to the boy.

Once again, the worry set in when he looked down at the wrapped gift as if it were a bomb. "What-" He stuttered out with narrowed brows. Though, Dean was unable to comprehend what had just happened, the sound of a car engine hitting his ears. The boy's gaze followed, landing on his brother's car, with a girl he knew to be dead in the passenger's seat. "I don't believe it."

Y/n lurked behind him as he wondered towards the car, squeezing Jess into a tightly knit hug before she'd even had a moment to exhale. The night followed with the same, odd, behaviour. And while Dean was simply basking in this new reality he seemed to have stumbled into, Y/n was growing more and more worrisome. Rushing after thin air in the restaurant, then wanting to spend more time with his brother than needed. To Y/n, at least the one in this make-shift world, it seemed cause for concern.

As the night drew into a close, and the couple made their way back home, things seemed to settle. Dean found himself laid across the couch, taunted by the lack of relationship he now had with his younger brother. "You feeling better now?" Y/n spoke as she joined him on the couch, tucked under his arm.

He looked back at her as if he had just snapped out of it. Y/n took that as a no. "Huh?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Maybe sleep will bring you around." She suggested. "Just, try not to run out in the middle of the night again yeah?" Dean nodded lightly but Y/n could tell he was somewhere else entirely. "Hey, whatever it is that's going on, you can talk to me about it. You know that, yeah?"

Y/n waited, searching through his pupils for any sign he might finally admit to whatever it was. "You'll think I'm insane." He told her.

She shrugged, "Don't I already?"

Dean glanced away for a moment, debating whether it was worth it. "This, here, everything, it's like a dream come true. I know how that sounds, but a lot is different today than it was yesterday." And yes, Y/n did think the boy was insane.

"And what's so different?" She questioned through soft eyes.

"I mean to start with, you, this place." He scanned around the apartment. "When I woke up yesterday, it was in a motel room, and you were in the bed across from me. And me and Sam, we were actually close. All three of us worked together." What Dean had feared was starring back at him: disbelief.

Y/n reached out her palm, brushing it over his cheek as to soothe him. But, instead, it seemed to have sent shivers down his spine. "I'm sure it was just a really vivid dream." She attempted to comfort him.

Dean bit his tongue after that.

It wasn't a vivid dream. And with his mind yearning at him to snap out of it, he knew he had no choice.

Dean couldn't look at Y/n the same way when he came back. His body aching with the blood that the Jinn had drained him off, clinging to the girl that carried him out of the warehouse. The feeling of her skin brushing against his suddenly came with memorises of holding hands and kisses. And she had no idea.

Once they made it back to the motel, Y/n demanded that Dean didn't move from the end of the bed until she gave him a once over. She perched next to him, legs cross as she inspected his neck where the needle had once pricked his skin, literally sucking the life out of him. "I told you, I feel fine." Dean said as her hand dropped from his skin.

"Well excuse me for giving a shit." She replied in a stern tone.

Yet, Dean responded with a smile. "Somethings never change."

Y/n's brow raised, "What does that mean?"

"Even in my fantasy dream world, you were still worried sick over me." Then his smile twisted into smirk that Y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe off him.

Instead, she let her eyes roll. "Next time, I'll make sure you to leave you suffering."

Sam wondered back towards his bed, ending the call he'd once been taken away with. "The girl's been stabilised." He informed as the two glanced over at him. "Good chance she's gonna pull through."

Dean nodded, "That's good."

A pause followed and Y/n noted the way Sam was debating something in his head. "So we really didn't get alone then?" He questioned.

The boy laughed at the Sam he had met in said dream land. "No."

"What about me?" Asked Y/n as her brow quirked in question. "Was I any different in this world?"

Silence came from Dean for a moment. Once again, he chuckled at what only he knew. And it was a humours thought when it came to preppy Sam being in law school, pretty much scared of the dark. But when it came to what had changed with Y/n and with them in this fantasy, that was something he truly wished for and now with it snatched from his grasp, his heart just couldn't help but ache.

So, in that moment, Dean opted only to smile as he faced Y/n. "A story for another time." He settled on.

Both Y/n and Sam fell into confusion at that. Dean soon pulled himself from the bed, wondering into the bathroom while the other two shared a look. "Did that seem odd to you?" Y/n questioned, her finger gesturing to where the boy had just been seated.

Sam nodded, "Sure he'll tell you the story after he's had a drink."

While Sam meant that as nothing more than a passing comment, it was plan the girl was sure would work on Dean. So, as they moved for the next town over, in search of a next job, Y/n suggested they spend some time at the local bar. There weren't many a time they were settled in a town where no demon, monster or creature was yet to be crawling for them. Which led both brothers to agree.

They must have only been three drinks in when Sam put his empty glass back to the table, a sigh following. "I think that's me done for the night." He uttered already grasping for his jacket.

"What? No, Sammy, come on." Dean urged through his own swig of beer. "Y/n was right, when are we next gonna be in bar because we're not investigating some spirit?"

Sam was standing from his seat, "Don't be back too late you two." He stated as he passed Dean, patting his back.

"Sleep well, Sam!" Y/n called, prompting the boy to glance back with a smile before he was gone.

Y/n looked over at the older brother, brow raised as she noticed the cogs in his brain were running. His eyes lit up, "Shots?" He smirked.

Had it been any later than it already was, Y/n probably would have declined. Yet, she found herself nodding. In a split second, Dean was out of his chair and to the bar, soon returning with two glasses of something shiny. "Cheers." Y/n spoke as the two raised their drinks, clinking them together. In sync, they swigged the liquid, burning at their throats before putting the glasses back down to the sticky table.

"So," Y/n started, her eyes exploring Deans in an attempt to grasp where his head was at. "Is this the time for that story?" She was testing the waters with her words.

Dean peaked at her over the shot glass, "What story?"

"About the dream world the Jinn sent you to." Dean's expression moulded into one Y/n was unable to depict. "When I asked about me in this world, you said it was a story for another time."

"Maybe after another shot." Y/n thought for a moment as they both went silent. And in one swift movement, she was at her feet, heading for the bar. "What? Y/n! I didn't mean that literally..." She was already gone.

Dean waited for her return, his fingers fidgeting as he attempted to look as held together as he was able. Even with three beers and some strange spirit down his throat, it didn't make this any easier. "Here." Y/n said, placing the glass down in front of him before taking her seat once again.

"What? No shot for you this time?" He questioned as he glanced down at the empty space on Y/n's side of the table. "This is extortion, you know?"

Y/n huffed as her elbows leant against the table and she got closer to Dean. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything Dean, but I've never known you to keep secrets from me." The boy could have laughed at the irony in that this secret was one of which he had been keeping from her for years now. "Which makes me think that whatever this something is that you're not telling me, it has to be bothering you."

Dean is silent for a couple of moments. He has to grip at all his thoughts. All of which are demanding he retreat as he does every time. But his heart can't help but yearn for his best friend sat in front of him. "When I woke up in that place, I was in this apartment. It was really nice. And in the bed I woke up in, you were sleeping next to me. But not as my best friend, or roommate. You were my girlfriend."

Oh.

Y/n's pupils were wide as she stared back at Dean. She was in doubt with every word. "That's what the Jinn does though, isn't it? Changes some things?"

Dean shook his head, "No. I had wished for it. I wished for it in that moment like I have been doing for years now."

Silence followed.

Dean was holding his breath. He was now the one scanning Y/n, hoping to dig inside whatever thoughts were floating around her head. "Dean..."

Her voice came out in sympathy that the boy had mistaken for pity. So, he was quick to retreat once again. "I know you probably think I'm stupid for even th-"

Y/n was leaning over, her finger tip grazing the bottom of his chin before meeting his lips. Dean was too busy trying to process the moment that he hadn't realised the kiss had happened until she was pulling away. A grin was quick to pull at his lips, "Wish we'd done that earlier."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winhester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years

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Lost Time (Soldier Boy)

Mind games til we lose control drabble

Pairing: Soldier Boy X FSupe!Reader

Summary: After the disaster at Herogasm, you and Soldier Boy blow off some steam, and make up for the loss time. Takes place during that one scene at the beginning of ep7, but like not that. Just same place. This is just porn without a plot I'm sorry.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (pls children wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, dirty talk bc its Soldier Boy, praising kink, bit of degrading, drug use, brief mentions of stormfront, allusion to attempted sexual assault (NOT from sb). Slightly occ ben, I make him slightly less horrible. This is one is kinda heavy so strap in.

WC: 2k

A/N: pls I'm sorry, I know I'm bombarding yall with soldier boy (smut) I promise I was gonna take few days and post something else, but I was just sitting here thinking how I havent seen any fics of sb eating pussy so I wrote it. I promise I'm not turning into a sb blog, i have a dean winchester fic coming, I just so happened to finish this one in one sitting in like 2 hours. Dont unfollow me pls kay enjoy the sin love yall. Ps I know this is too long to be a drabble but idk what else to call it so just accept it.

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

"And you remember that chick Liberty?" You asked Ben absentmindedly, an arm behind your head as you held a joint to your lips with the other. You heard him hum, his face pressed to your stomach as he left sloppy kisses on your skin, "So turns out she was like a nazi."

"What the fuck?" He snapped his head up to look at you with a twisted look on his face. You looked down at him and nodded, taking a long drag of the joint before placing it on the ashtray next to you.

"You didn't know?"

"Fuck no. I was a soldier during World War II, you think I would've been in the same room as that bitch had I known she was a nazi?" He scoffed and shook his head, looking like he was questioning his life choices. "Fuck, and to think I founded Herogasm with her."

"Yeah well," You shrugged, watching him with a raised eyebrow as he laid his head on your bare thigh. He was a surprisingly good listener. And since you were pretty much catching him up on all the supe and Vought business he had missed, he was particularly attentive, as well as he could be with you naked and him between your legs of course. "Her and Homelander were fucking, like they were public and everything. And honestly it doesn't surprise me, that motherfucker is a weirdo. And that's saying something."

"You know the fucker? He recognized you at Herogasm." He raised an eyebrow at you, you could hear the slight bit of possessiveness in his tone. Funny how some things didn't change. He would always throw a fit if he found out you talked to other men, he was the only man in your life. Yeah as if.

You snorted at him and shrugged, running your fingers through his long honey strands, "Some. He wanted me to join The Seven years ago. I thought about it, and then the motherfucker tried to get me to fuck him in exchange of joining the team. And you know exactly how well that went when you tried it the first time. Told him fuck off and he didn't like it. And of course Vought didn't give a shit when I told them what he did, so I left and they got Noir instead."

"At least I took no for an answer," He scoffed with both a mixture of disgust and anger. "And for the record, I didn't ask you to fuck me to join the team, I wanted to fuck you, and after that I wanted you to join the team, but those weren't mutually exclusive."

"Oh right, you were such a gentleman." You rolled your eyes at him and chuckled, hoping to humor him, but he still had a hard expression on his face.

"But he didn't—"

"No Ben, he didn't do anything. It was a long time ago, I haven't seen him since. Well, not before Herogasm." You reassured him, fingers threading to his scalp, making him close his eyes and hum lowly.

"I don't know what I would've done if he had laid a fuckin' hand on you when I wasn't there to protect you." He mumbled, his lips pressed against your thigh, you barely heard him, but you did. You sighed softly.

"Yeah well you're here now. So relax, relax before we have to go fuck some more people up. Enjoy this while you can." You emphasized, biting your lip softly. You saw the way his expression changed, and his pink lips twisted into a smirk.

"Yeah I'm gonna fuckin' enjoy this alright." He bit his lip, positioning himself so that your legs were on either side of his broad shoulders and he was laying on his stomach.

You watched with glazed eyes as he drew a line on your stomach and pitched the side or his nose before he dragged it across your stomach, the white substance lingering in his nose. He sat on his elbows, eyes closed as he sniffled and hummed.

"Christ, that's some good shit." He chuckled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and looked up at you, pupils so dilated that you barely see the green in his eyes. But you didn't know if that was from the drugs or lust, maybe both. "But this is better."

You gasped, body jolting when he dipped his head and dragged his tongue over your clit, suckling on the bud for a second or two before he lifted his head up again, leaving you whimpering.

"Best goddamn pussy I've ever had the pleasure of eating," He rasped, teeth digging into his bottom teeth as he threw your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to his face and dived back in, but not before he muttered, "Can't get enough of it."

He had you like this for hours. Alternating between fucking you with mouth and fingers, and actually fucking you. Ever since you got back from Herogasm, your failed attempt at killing Homelander and pretty much hijacked The Legend's place, you had been in this room, with Ben all over you. He had always been insatiable, but even back then he would get tired too, and would take breaks. But now, he wouldn't keep his hands off you, he was relentless. You pretty much had to beg him to stop and give you a break. To which he surprisingly agreed. But that was maybe fifteen minutes ago, and he figured it was time to continue, while he still could. Make up for the lost time, you guessed. You weren't complaining though.

His long fingers eventually joined the rhythm of his expert tongue. The second you felt two fingers slip into you you began to feel an ache in your stomach. You gave up on words a long time ago. You were nothing but a mess of whimpers and moans by then. Something that definitely fueled Ben's ego, he loved watching you fall apart for him. He knew your body perfectly, and the second one of your hands flew to pull at his hair, he knew he found your trigger. And his fingers curved over that spot, over, over and over until he had you crying out and he felt warm sparks on his scalp.

Your juices coated his tongue and fingers as you shuddered, your shaky thighs clamping around his head. You were panting, and you could hear your heartbeat thump against your head so hard it made you dizzy. You closed your eyes, hissing softly when you felt Ben's fingers leave you, but his tongue was still drawing slow figure eights on your clit.

"Such a sweet girl. So fuckin' sweet," He coaxed as he pulled his face away from you. You were still shaking from your high when you felt his lips trail up your stomach until he found your neck, and he was attacking that too. "Now that I got you nice and wet, I'm gonna fuck you real good before those fuckers come in and spoil all the fun. I can hear Butcher outside."

You half nodded, still a bit blazed from both the weed and your orgasm, but you still helped him shrug off his ridiculous robe. He unraveled it and tossed it aside before taking his already hard cock into his hands. He grabbed one of your legs and held it over his shoulder as he sat back on his knees and positioned himself at your entrance. He slipped in with a groan, his face twisted into a pleasured expression as he watched the way he slid inside your walls with ease. You were already so cock drunk and fucked all you could do was moan.

"I don't know what I love more, eating this pussy, or fuckin' it." He was drawing back and slamming back in with enough force to make your body slide on the mattress. God, Soldier Boy fucked like he fought, ruthless and with purpose.

Your head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut and your hands were clutching the sheets so tight you thought you were going to rip them. Though by then the whole room was tossed, somehow some pillows had been ripped in half and you were sure the brick wall had dents in it. It was absolutely messy, filthy and absolutely intoxicating. He was intoxicating. Everything about him.

"You're squeezing the fuck outta my cock, you wanna come my pretty Violet?" He rasped and panted, his forehead and chest glistening with sweat as he watched the way he fucked himself in and out of your tight walls. And fuck did he love it. "You need me to make you come again? Is that what my pretty slut needs?"

"Yes! Fuck Ben, please." How you were speaking, you had no idea, but you screamed it, overstimulation and the aching need for release making your vision blurry with tears.

"Fuck, yeah give me what I want. Come for me, do it now." He ordered, sneaking a hand between your bodies and rubbed quick harsh circles on your clit until he had you crying out and your eyes flashed violet. "Fuck, shit, that's it."

Your leg hung over his shoulder as he leaned down and held himself up on his forearm as he snapped his hips quickly but more shallow like he was trying to get himself over the edge. You were so drunk on your high you barely noticed when be grabbed your hand placed it on your lower belly, his own hand right of top of yours, and you sure noticed when he pushed down on your belly with the slightly bit of pressure on it and spoke in your ear.

"You feel that? That's exactly where only I fuckin' belong. Not Homelander, not fuckin' anyone, me." He rasped, a groan leaving his lips when he gave you one final thrust and spilled inside you.

He kept himself braced on his forearm so as not to crush you with his weight, but his body still laid on top of you, still inside you. Hazily, you threw your arms over his neck and ran one of your hands through his damp hair. His heavy breaths and your own filled the room, but other than that you laid in silence, simply soaking in the feeling of each other. Fuck did it feel right. Too bad it didn't last.

"Oi children!" You heard an unmistakable cockney accent as the doors suddenly opened, followed by a pair of collective groans.

"Fuckin' Christ. Can't even fuck my girl in peace." Ben groaned as peeled himself from you and sat up, naked as the day the boys found him.

"Oh Jesus, please put that away." Hughie muttered to Ben, face red as it could get at the sight of you two naked.

Despite your still hazy state, you were quick to pull the sheets over your naked body as you sat up. You inhaled sharply as you brought your legs to your knees, muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities. You eyed the three men in front of you. Legend was going on a rant about the room you destroyed, Butcher was berating Ben for his shitty Intel on Mindstorm, and Hughie just stood there mortified.

"It's not like you've never seen a dick before. You do have one right? Or do you just have a pussy down there and that's why you act like one?" Ben chuckled, looking directly at Hughie as he stood up, cock half hard and with no urgency to grab his robe from the ground.

"Ben, stop harassing the kid and put your dick away." You scolded him, being pretty much the only person on this earth that could tell Soldier Boy what to do without being threatened with bodily damage. He glared at you, but complied nonetheless and wrapped the robe around himself. "And you two could learn to fucking knock, save yourself the trauma." You sighed as you looked around the bed for your clothes but they weren't on sight. Until you felt something hit the side of your head and fall on the bed.

"Asshole." You glared at Ben as you grabbed the hoodie sitting beside you and slipped it on, the smirk on his face making you roll your eyes.

"Anytime sweetheart." He winked at you before turning his attention to Butcher and Hughie who were going back and forth about Mindstorm. Guess they could find an address after all.

Well off you were. At least you were able to make up for lost time.

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x fem reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy smut #the boys

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mystic-writings · 7 months

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would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been | dean winchester

PAIRING — dean winchester x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you seem to have the perfect life with dean, but nothing good ever happens to you, so why should this?

WARNINGS — fluff, angst, anxiety, derealization, pregnancy, miscarriage mentions, blood & self-harm/suicide depictions, injury

WORD COUNT — 3,764

NOTES — this is all i’ve been thinking about for like a week. also TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY THIS IS AN EMOTIONALLY HEAVY FIC | btw most of this takes place in season 2 or 3, and season 6 or so at the end

masterlist | navigation

This bed is too comfortable. Too warm. But you didn’t care, because it was the best sleep you’d gotten in years. You forced yourself to keep your eyes closed, to soak in the comfort that hardly ever came with your lifestyle.

Warm lips pressed against your temple, the pressure of someone else in the bed shifting your body ever-so-slightly. That was what forced you to peel your eyes open.

You stretched your arms, taking a deep breath in and locking eyes with… Dean. Your comfort quickly turned to shock and confusion, and judging by the look that formed on his features, your face showed how you felt.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” He said, and the smile you fell in love with melted onto his lips.

“Morning,” you sighed. Something about all of this felt off, but you couldn’t place it. Everything else about your reality felt entirely normal, so you felt the only thing to do was brush it off entirely. “What time is it?”

Dean, who was leaning over you with one arm on either side of your head, craned his neck to the side. “Almost 9. I’ve got some grub ready for you downstairs, if you can handle it this morning.” He smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Let me guess, is it a pile of bacon and some eggs?”

“With toast,” Dean defended, and moved back as you pushed yourself into a sitting position.

As your feet touched the floor, Dean headed toward the bedroom door. “I’ll be down in a few, okay?”

Once Dean was out of sight, things began to feel odd again. You still couldn’t place the feeling, but it churned your stomach. Still, you did your best to push the feeling aside and headed to the bathroom. It was in there, as you brushed your teeth, that you saw the glint in the mirror — a ring, placed delicately on your left ring finger. The band was thin, the jewels were small, but it looked absolutely stunning.

Were you and Dean engaged?

The second the thought came to mind, you nearly laughed. Of course, you were engaged, why else would you be wearing a ring? And besides, it’s not as though it should be a surprise, you’d been engaged for almost two years now, and together for much longer.

After you were done in the bathroom, you browsed both the closet and dresser for something to wear, but none of your clothes felt right. There was little flannel — or jeans for that matter — and all the comfortable t-shirts belonged to Dean. You ended up choosing one of his old, plain shirts and a pair of jeans that felt a little too tight around the waist.

You followed the nearly-overwhelming scent of bacon downstairs and into the kitchen, where you found Dean plating everything up for the both of you at the table.

“Come get it while it’s hot, babe,” he smirked, setting the plates in their spots across from one another.

Breakfast was pretty silent, but you were starving. Pretty much the only thing you could think about was eating what was in front of you — including the bowl of poorly cut up fruit next to your plate. Just as you were finishing up whatever bacon you had, Dean let out a low whistle. You paused, mid-chew, and looked up at him. “What?”

“Well, I’ve just never seen you eat like that before,” Dean commented. “Guess I should expect things to start changing or whatever, but yesterday you damn near threw up at the smell of bacon, sweetheart.”

Why would that have made you nauseous in the first place? “What can I say, I’m a hungry woman,” you shrugged, and a thought came to mind. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean seemed caught off guard by your question. “Sam? He’s… in California, Y/n. He won’t be here until later tonight. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You took a sip from the cup of orange juice in front of you. God, you could use a coffee.

“Nothing, I just- I know the doctor said brain fog would be normal, but I didn’t expect it to be this early.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stood, heading to the coffee pot to pour yourself some. You don’t know why Dean didn’t, especially considering he knew how much you loved it. “I’m fine, Dean, don’t worry. Just a little tired, is all.”

By the time you poured yourself a cup and it was halfway to your lips, Dean was at your side, pulling it from your hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dean, seriously, what the hell are you up to? I’m just having a cup of coffee, jesus.”

“Were we not at the same doctor’s appointment last week?” Dean asked, dumping the cup down the sink. “She said no caffeine, period. Better to not take risks with the baby, all things considered.”

Baby? What baby?

Your mind reeled at Dean’s words for a few moments, confusion filling you to the brim. You weren’t pregnant. Right? You didn’t look or feel pregnant. Did you? Then, in an instant, your mind felt crammed with memories. Taking the test, sharing it with Dean, the doctor’s appointment. It rushed you all at once, but it felt… fake.

Sharp pain shot through your temples, and you pressed the heel of your palm to your forehead, catching your fiance’s attention. “Are you feeling okay, babe?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just a headache. I’ll be okay.” You assured him, removing your hand from your head and placing it on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go get some rest, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call mom, let her know tonight’s off.”

“No, no. I should be fine for tonight, don’t worry about it. I think I just need to rest.” After you got Dean to agree, you wracked your brain for what possibly could be going on tonight. Then, suddenly, you remembered. Dean’s birthday dinner. Of course. You and Mary had been planning it for weeks now. It was less fancy than the birthdays you recalled Mary having, with just a nice, home cooked meal and a cake and pie from Dean’s favourite place in town.

In fact, you were supposed to go help her with that today. However, you decided that maybe a small nap would be fine, since you didn’t need to go anywhere until after 12 o’clock.

If it weren’t for Dean waking you up again, there was a high chance you would’ve slept through the whole day. Both of you had things to do outside the house, so you got ready and left in tandem, a blissful, domestic peace settling over your house.

That is, until you saw the vehicles in the driveway. The old, black, Toyota Tacoma made sense, since it was yours, but the sedan — Dean’s sedan — didn’t.

“Where’s the Impala?” You asked, heading down the porch steps.

Dean glanced back at you, that all-too familiar face of confusion looking at you. “I got rid of it when we got the house, remember? You and mom said it was too loud to be in a quiet neighbourhood, so I traded it in.”

You hummed with a nod, your chest feeling a little heavy. You loved that car; Dean loved that car. The sedan was nice, but the Impala, she was a beauty. Dismissing it, you hopped into your truck and backed out of the driveway, the route to the bakery coming to you like riding a bike as you sang along to the cd mix you left in the console last week.

Once both the cake and pie were paid for and secured in the passenger seat, you headed back to the house to get ready for the dinner. Dean was still out, grocery shopping you presumed, due to the lack of ingredients in the fridge.

It took you nearly an hour, between your makeup and trying to find a dress that looked good on you and still fit. It still felt weird to you; the fact that you were pregnant. It’s not something you ever recalled truly wanting, not to mention something you ever really discussed with Dean. You still felt like your normal self. No nausea or mood swings, and definitely no cravings or aversions. You didn’t even feel bloated, even if your clothes said otherwise. It was like there was no pregnancy to begin with.

Still, you found a suitable outfit and made your way over to Mary’s, where she was already starting on the dinner you were helping her cook. Aside from her oddly watchful eye, you were grateful for the time you got to spend with just her. Time with Mary passed like nothing, and before you knew it, Dean was bringing Sam and Jess into the house, and dinner was practically done.

You greeted everyone happily, still wearing the apron Mary wrapped you in to keep your clothes protected. Sam and Jess looked happy, and for a moment, as you took Jess’ hand, you were flashed with images of Sam, sobbing at her grave. It overtook you, overwhelmed you, and shook you to your core. So much so that when you came back to the present, everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry,” you muttered, trying to put a smile on and untying your apron. “I’m just not feeling too well, I’ll be back in a second,”

You barely managed to toss the apron over the bannister as you headed for the upstairs bathroom. The door flung open and shut, and your back was pressed against it, the lock clicking, sealing you in to calm down. You tried to keep your eyes closed, but they kept flashing with those images. Jess’ grave, Sam’s tears. Jess, poor, lovely Jess, pinned to the ceiling with blood soaking her nightdress. Sam’s fear, the flames, you and Dean pulling him away.

What’s gotten into you?

After taking a few deep breaths, you finally got rid of those haunting images, and joined everyone in the dining room. Dean was sitting at the head of the table, with Sam and Jess on one side, and an empty seat on the other. You took that one, which was next to Mary.

“Are you okay, honey?” She asked, plating up mashed potatoes for everyone. “You were up there a while,”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nodded, taking Dean’s hand. “I just… I think I’m coming down with something. Just needed a second, is all.”

Dinner passed smoothly, with comfortable chatter and laughter, reminiscing and recalling memories. You were bringing up things you didn’t even remember, but everything felt so natural and peaceful that you barely thought twice about it.

Just before cake and pie, the conversation quieted down, and Dean cleared his throat. He gave you a look, and you knew what he was going to do.

“I know it’s my birthday, but while we’re all here, Y/n and I have something we want to tell you,” Dean started, an uncontrollable smile on his face. It made you fall in love with him all over again.

Sam, Jess, and Mary’s voices overlapped as they berated you all with questions, their enthusiasm making you giggle.

“Okay, okay, we might as well just say it, right?” You asked your fiance, and he nodded. “We’re pregnant!”

The table erupted with cheers. Everyone stood up, and the next few minutes were a flurry of hugs and congratulations. Questions were asked and answered, and the joy was overwhelmingly felt.

When everything calmed, Dean mentioned, “I’m honestly surprised we got through dinner before announcing it. Between our excitement and Y/n’s nausea, I figured it would’ve slipped before we were halfway done.”

Your stomach churned at his comment, and you realised that he was right. You’d prepared and eaten all this food, and not once did you have any aversions or nausea, despite recalling the fact that you threw up at the smell of steak only a few days ago.

“Yeah, well, I guess I developed an iron stomach just for you, babe.” You smiled, just as Mary brought out the desserts.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. After desserts, you found yourself sitting with everyone in the living room, talking endlessly about how exciting everything was. Jess and Sam’s wedding, the baby, all of it. Mary even shared some of the stories she recalled from when the boys were little.

Dean stuck to your side the whole night, an arm around your shoulders. The whole scene, every moment, brought you comfort and peace, one you feel like you haven’t had in years, even if this was just what your life was like.

You drove home after Sam and Jess turned in, and it didn’t take long after you got home for the two of you to fall into bed, into a warm and safe cocoon made up of Dean and the duvet. You were utterly at peace.

But the peace didn’t follow you into your dreams.

Your subconscious became filled with the most sickening sights. Weapons, fights, death and destruction. And blood. Covering every inch of your skin, splattering and dripping and staining. And none of it was yours. The image of Jess returned, and so did Dean. More gruff, hardened, and scarier than you’ve ever seen him. Sam, tortured and fighting himself. Motels and bars and Baby, and then nothing. Emptiness, loneliness, hunt after hunt by yourself. No Dean, no Sam, no family. Then the warehouse. People strung up to die. The glow of blue magic, then nothing.

Waking up felt like being pulled out from underwater. Dean was nowhere to be found, but you were met with the sun-filled room you fell asleep in. An unsettling feeling settled in your chest, like something was wrong. This time, you couldn’t shake it.

You assumed, after getting ready and pacing around the house so much that you burned off your breakfast and made a second one, that the feeling must be from being alone. After all, you only felt this way yesterday when no one else was in your presence.

Since Dean had taken Sam and Jess house hunting for the day, something they planned weeks ago, you figured going to Mary would be best. After all, you didn’t know a thing about pregnancy, and she’d been through two. Maybe she could help. Maybe what you were feeling was just sudden anxiety about the baby now that people knew (even if you feel like you didn’t know until yesterday, even if you feel like you’re not even pregnant).

When you arrived, she was making herself some lunch, which she graciously offered to you and you accepted. The house was quiet now, and you wondered how she dealt with the silence all the time.

As you were finishing your sandwiches, Mary cleared her throat.

“Not that I don’t love your company, darling, but is there a reason you stopped by?”

You stopped chewing for a moment. Placing the remnants of your sandwich back on the plate, you swiped your hands on your jeans and took a swig of water. “Yes, actually, there is.” You took a breath, and forced the words. “I feel… off. I don’t know what it is, if it’s because of the baby, or,” you almost couldn’t say the word. It was like you were in a permanent state of denial. “I just… don’t feel okay. It’s like something’s wrong, but I can’t place it. But I only feel it when I’m alone.”

Mary seemed to think on her words for a while, before reaching over and placing a hand over yours. “Considering what you’ve been through, it’s totally normal to feel how you do. I mean, you and Dean went through a lot. Between the miscarriage and the break up, feeling like something’s wrong is probably just anxiety from last time. I’m sure if you talk to Dean about it he can help. He was such a wreck for so long.”

You pulled your hand away from Mary’s, as though her touch burned. You had no idea what she was talking about. Miscarriage? Breakup? You’d never been pregnant before. You didn’t even feel pregnant now.

You tried to think back, to reach into the back of your mind to try and pull forward these supposed memories, but all it did was give you a headache. Your temples throbbed as you pushed yourself. Then, like the breaking of a dam, everything flooded into your head.

The hunts, the lifestyle, the memories. You were right, you’d never been pregnant. This was not your life. This was a mockery of what was, a possibility of what could’ve been if the world hadn’t been so cruel, if fate and stubbornness hadn’t driven you to be alone.

The djinn was smart. It was skilled, its magic refined. You knew going after it alone was a mistake, but there was no one else you could go to. All your hunting friends were busy, and the Winchesters had become nothing but a painful mark on your soul; a memory too painful to relive, and too fond to forget. It took over you, subdued you, strung you up to die.

You knew the way out. Die here, and live there, or live here and die there. It was a no-brainer. If it weren’t for the fact that you had Dean. If it weren’t for the fact that Jess was alive, that Sam was happy. That Mary got to see her sons grow up. If it weren’t for the fact that things are normal.

Somehow, you managed to excuse yourself from Mary, thank her for the food and advice, and drive yourself home. You spent what felt like hours staring at yourself in the mirror that hung above the sink, splashing water in your face and thinking. If you didn’t do something, you’d die out there, in the real world. But the real world sucked. You were alone. Every day was a struggle, especially with the things you’ve seen, the things you’ve done. The real you had regrets, big ones. The real you didn’t know how she kept getting out of those cheap motel beds every day.

This version of you is happy. This you had regrets, but none as big, as ugly, as the real you. This you had a job, a house, a life, and a family. This you had Dean, and he alone almost made it worth it.

But it wasn’t enough. You knew it wasn’t enough.

So, you walked through the bedroom, down the stairs, and through your house, soaked in the setting sunlight. It felt like a death march. It was a death march; and its destination was the kitchen.

You stood at the counter with limbs filled with lead, with a looming fear. There was nothing to be scared of, really. It would just be the pain, and then you’d wake up. Everything would be fine.

But your hand still shook as you reached for the biggest knife in the block.

And it shook as the tip pressed into your stomach.

And then the door opened, and Dean called out to you, lovingly. He rambled on as he approached, talking about how he thought Sam and Jess found the perfect house - just a few streets away, he claimed, so close to you both, where you could build lives together.

You turned, knife still touching your skin, shaking and at the brink of tears, when he walked into the kitchen. You watched the joy within him turn to fear, and your heart broke.

“Y/n what are you doing-” he said, stepping closer.

“Don’t!” You shouted. He froze in place. Your shaking became uncontrollable. “Don’t come any closer.”

“What’s going on, Y/n?” He asked, and all you could hear was fear in his voice. “Just- just put the knife down, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, and tears filled your vision. “No, we can’t. This isn’t real. None of it’s real, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it is. This is real, I’m real, okay?”

“No, you aren’t!” You screamed. “You’re Dean, I know that, but you’re not the Dean I love. You’re the Dean I wish I could’ve been with. This life, it’s perfect, and I wish it was mine, but it’s not. It’s just a stupid dream, and if I stay here I’ll die.”

“You’re not making any sense, babe. Just put down the knife, and I swear, I can help you.”

You sniffed, letting the tears fall. “God, I wish you could. I wish I could stay with you, Dean. You’re perfect, and I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

And within seconds, hot pain flooded your stomach as you buried the knife in your abdomen. Dean rushed to you as you pulled it back out, tears flowing down both your cheeks. He caught you as you stumbled, and guided you to the ground, into his lap.

The only thing you could retain was his hand on your wound, his cries for help, and grabbing his hand one last time, comforted by his skin touching yours as everything slipped away.

This position was far too uncomfortable. You tried to move, to stretch out, but something was stopping you. The air was cold around you, and your muscles were aching and tired. Something reached up to you, brushed the hair from your face.

You groaned as your arms dropped and something — someone — caught you. Through the muck you felt like your mind was swimming in, you remembered what happened. The djinn strung you up. But who was cutting you down?

Again, your hair was gently brushed from your face, and suddenly at the back of your neck and knees there was a pressure. You could hear voices around you, low and rumbling. They sounded panicked. Familiar. Safe.

A million thoughts ran through your head all at once, all of them rushing to the same conclusion. Open your eyes.

Emerald green, pale and comforting and worried, stared back at you, flooded with relief that you were alive. They were a stark contrast to what you had seen moments ago; the same eyes, though a little younger, filled with grief and pain and tears.

“Dean,” you rasped, and you could’ve sworn he smiled at you.

“Hey, princess,” you haven’t heard him call you that in years, “we’ve got you. Don’t worry. Me and Sammy, we- we killed the djinn. You’ll be okay.”

And, somehow, you believed him. You didn’t know how, or when, but you’d be okay.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #major character death #suicide tw #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader

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little-diable · 9 months

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Twin Flame - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by the song "Twin Flame" by Brennan Story. I love love love this fic, and I hope y'all will love it too. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Months ago Dean had broken the reader's heart, a desperate try to protect her. But he no longer manages to stay away, needing to find his way back to her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, makeup sex, some heartbreak in the beginning, a very very happy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.8k words)

Well this road don't get no shorter, I would've drove the whole thing for you, my tank down to a quarter, and it'll be gone soon

„What is up with you lately, Dean?” Sam’s voice filled Baby, worried eyes watching his brother. No reply left Dean as he kept driving on, caught in his memories like a fly trapped in the web of a spider set to kill. He was stuck, without a way out, and yet, deep down inside he prayed that he’d never be able to leave those memories behind.

Whenever he got a moment to let his thoughts wander, he had to think of her, the one who still holds his heart in her hands, even after all these months. Being with her had been something he had never experienced before, a new sensation he longed for like a man dying of thirst dreaming of any water he could drink. Loving her had been everything Dean wasn’t, it had been sweet, easy, it had been too good to be true.

Whenever he was lying awake at night, eyes staring at the dirty ceiling of the motel rooms he and Sam found shelter in, he imagined her laying next to him, head resting on his chest, listening to his calmly beating heart. Dean still felt her weight on him, if he closed his eyes he could feel her right there with him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, words that had been etched into his mind.

“Dean?” Sam tried again, worried eyes flickering back to the dark road ahead, knowing that it would take them at least a couple more hours to make their way to the bunker. “Hey man, c’mon, talk to me, I can tell something is going on.”

“It’s nothing, Sammy.” His voice told Sam everything he needed to know, exposing the hurt, the sadness flushing through Dean’s system. Dean’s green eyes were hazy, no longer filled with that special glint spurring him on whenever they were on a hunt, it felt as if he was no longer in the car with Sam, just a body without a soul tied to it.

“Is it about her? Dean, you should just call her, reach out, it’s never too late.” A sharp inhale of cold air was forced into Dean’s lungs, teeth grazing his lower lip to stop his angry words from rolling off his tongue. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t call the one whose heart he had broken, leaving her behind without looking back once, choosing the life with his brother over her, a hunter just like him and his brother – a woman Dean wanted to protect from being hurt because of him.

The cold words he had spoken to her were still ringing in his ears, how he had pushed her away, nothing but a stupid spiel Dean stuck to, in order to save her from a life filled with uneasy times, with hunts that would leave their marks on her. Dean Winchester would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking (y/n)’s heart, and his own.

And my drink been feelin' lighter, 'cause I'm a lover not a fighter, and I seen that you caught fire, when you put me out

“Sammy, wake up, we’re home.” Dean’s rough voice filled the dark night, hand shaking his brother’s shoulder. It took Sam a moment to wake, hands rubbing his tired eyes. Slowly did the younger Winchester brother undo his seatbelt, halting his movements as he noticed that Dean wasn't moving.

“What’s wrong?” Worry dripped from the tip of Sam’s tongue, watching his brother’s gaze flicker between the steering wheel and the phone Dean kept clinging to.

“I have something to do, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Silence filled Baby, a silence so loud, Dean started to shuffle around in his seat, waiting for his brother to speak up or to start moving, already annoyed with the time they kept wasting just now. Dean was feeling antsy, nervousness filled his system, a sensation so unfamiliar he couldn’t help but curse it.

“Dean,” Sam whispered his brother’s name, hand finding his shoulder. “Get her back, stop worrying about dragging her down with you, she’s stronger than the both of us combined, she’ll do just fine being around us.”

Dean couldn’t reply, throat too tight, mouth too dry to produce any sounds, unsure what to say to the brother of his that looked at him with so much hope swimming in his pupils. Sam didn’t know much about the night where Dean had left her, he didn’t know of the words he had spoken, hurtful words that have left their scars on his and her soul, it’d be a miracle if she’d take Dean back. But he couldn’t breathe without her near, couldn’t live on without her by his side.

……

“Absolutely not.” (Y/n)’s eyes met Dean’s desperate ones, body turned from him as she tried to close her door, without any luck, wood caught by the boot he had pushed past her entrance. A string of curses left her, jaw ticking in anger as her eyes found their way back to his, reading the pleading swimming in his pupils before she slowly took a step back, inviting him back in.

Dean followed her through the all too familiar four walls he had once started to call his new home, the house they should grow old in, the house they should raise their children in, nothing but mere dreams that have evaporated into nothing but a hazy dream both could no longer recreate.

“I always knew you’d step low, but turning up here is ruthless, even for you, Dean Winchester.” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes not daring to leave his once. Slowly he sank down on her couch, right next to her, not giving (y/n) a chance to move away. Without thinking he reached for her hand, moving faster than she had anticipated, catching her fingers before she could move them away as if he was a flame she burnt herself on.

“I wasn’t planning on coming here, hell, I wasn’t planning on ever setting my foot back in this house.” His whispers were torn between sounds reminding one of cries for help and a voice so quiet one could have problems understanding what he was saying. An angry huff left (y/n), glassy eyes focusing on the calloused fingertips stroking the back of her hand, pushing an all too familiar sensation through her body. She was trembling, begging for whoever was listening to relieve her from the pain she had never been able to let go of, and yet she had tried to keep on moving, without looking back once.

“You broke my heart, you left me without an explanation, just your awful words. One day you were here, and the next you were suddenly gone. It took me a while to give my life a new meaning, to adjust to hunting on my own, but I managed just fine for the past months, Dean. Why do you have to return the second I’m finally okay on my own?” Her tears started rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin like a once dry waterfall regaining its impressive strength. With his other hand finding her jaw, Dean started drying her tears, heart clenching in his chest as he was once again reminded of the pain he had pushed her through.

“I know, and I’m so sorry for being so fucking selfish, but I can’t stay away. Every second without you by my side is pure torture, you’re the only thing I can think of, no matter when or where I am. I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, after watching you getting hurt because of me, because I couldn’t step back from a hunt we should have called backup for, I knew i had to get away from you. I can’t be the reason you get into any more danger. But as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can’t live without you, not any longer.” A heavy sigh left (y/n) as she looked at Dean, focusing on the pain filling his green pupils, on the lifeless expression tugging on his features. He was no longer the Dean she had once been with, no, he had changed, their breakup had left its marks on him, as much as it had left its marks on her. And yet she still longed for him, after all the sleepless nights she had cursed him for.

“I need time to think this through, you have hurt me so much, Dean, so much. But I still love you, a lot. You can sleep on the sofa and we can talk in the morning.” Slowly Dean let go of her, pulling his hands away to give (y/n) enough space to rise to her feet. With one last glance thrown his way, she disappeared down the hallway, letting the door to her bedroom fall shut with a soft thud.

And as Dean sat on the sofa he had once put together with (y/n), he couldn’t help but give into the tears welling up in his eyes.

And I'd set fire onto, these boots running from the hard truth, that you don't need me the same way I need you

……

Dean woke with a groan leaving him, back aching from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. It took him a few seconds to remember the past hours, how he had turned up at (y/n)’s place, how he had cried into his hands as she had parted from him. His green eyes shot open, finding a pair of all too familiar eyes already staring at him. (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wearing the same shirt she had worn hours ago. Only now did Dean realise that the shirt had once belonged to him, pushing a very welcomed heat through his aching body.

“I made some coffee.” Her soft voice left his heart skipping beats, needing to cherish these moments should she ask him to leave in the upcoming minutes. Slowly did Dean sit up, stretching his neck and arms before he murmured a “Thank you, sweetheart”, taking the cup of warm coffee (y/n) pushed into his direction.

“I didn’t catch any sleep, but I got enough time to think.” Dean braced himself for the words she was about to speak, teeth grazing his lower lip. His heart was racing way too fast for the early hour, and yet Dean didn’t manage to calm his system, palms growing sweatier with every second. He struggled to look into the eyes he’d see whenever he closed his at night, desperate to feel her close, pupils that were once so familiar, so loved, pupils that felt like nothing but a fever dream now. “I love you too much to push you away, but it’ll take me some time to trust you again, Dean. You have to accept that we’ll both get hurt on hunts, with or without Sammy. And you’ll accept that I’ll join you on all hunts I want to join, you won’t get a say about my decisions. Are we clear?”

He looked at her for a few more moments before his hand found the back of her neck, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss. With a gasp leaving (y/n) she moved closer, arms finding their way around his neck, allowing Dean to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longing for one another, hearts begging them to never part ways again, unable to endure another wave of heartbreak.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back, whatever you need. I love you so much, sweetheart, I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” Dean murmured his words against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss as his hands disappeared underneath the comfortable shirt of his she was wearing. Her breath hitched in her chest as Dean shuffled them around, pressing (y/n) against the sofa with him nestling between her thighs. Moans clawed through the two as Dean began to roll his hips, rubbing his hardening bulge against her damp panties.

“Been dreaming about you touching me, as much as I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but miss you, your lips, your fingers.” A soft, throaty laugh rumbled through Dean as he pushed her shirt up to expose her chest to his hungry eyes, lips finding her hardening nipples almost instantly, leaving his marks on every inch of her warm flesh.

“Fuck, no matter what I tried, my mind always wandered back to you. I imagined the words you’d moan, how you’d wrap your fingers around my cock. Can’t believe I’m getting another chance to love you.” No longer could she reply to his words, (y/n) had almost forgotten the loving words his mouth and mind were able to create in moments like this one, set on making her feel the love his heart pumped through his system. “I need to be inside of you, it’s been too fucking long. Do you have a condom?”

“No, but I’m clean, I didn’t sleep with anybody but you.” She was almost scared to ask Dean if he had touched another woman, struggling to form the question that now rang through her mind, leaving her breathless. Dean pushed another kiss against her lips before he shuffled out of his clothes, exposing his twitching cock to her wandering eyes.

“Good, you’re mine to touch only, forever mine. I didn’t touch anybody else, just the thought of it made me sick, no matter how much alcohol I needed to try and forget about us.” With her hand finding its way back to his neck, and with her legs slowly wrapping themselves around his hips, (y/n) chased his slightly swollen lips.

The sound of their moans leaving them in unison was drowned by their kiss, Dean moved slow at first, needing to hold back before he’d cum right there and then, no longer used to feeling her tightness wrapped around his cock. Both clung to one another as he fucked her into the sofa, with one hand placed on the arm rest and the other on her waist, leaving marks with his fingertips digging into her skin. (Y/n) arched her front against his, trembling legs not daring to loosen their hold on his waist, wondering if she was only stuck in a dream, or if Dean was truly fucking her, reminding her that she was his.

And no matter how hard I try, I'll never learn to say goodbye, you say it's okay to cry, baby that river done ran dry

“God, how I missed feeling you, feels so perfect, so fucking perfect.” With his forehead pressed against hers, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, growing rougher as her walls fluttered around him, tensing every now and then. Dean had lost count on the amount of times he had dreamt of feeling her again, of loving her just like he had always promised he would.

“Same, fuck, don’t ever leave me again, Dean.” (Y/n) choked on his name, hand disappearing between their bodies to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves. Both knew that they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, it felt as if they hadn’t been able to let go for months, unable to touch themselves without thinking of one another. But both had tried to make themselves cum for weeks on end, unable to do so, since their minds painted pictures too painful, pictures they could now finally leave behind.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart? Fuck, I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.” Another moan left (y/n) as Dean’s lips found her jaw, kissing their way down her neck. It took her a moment to reply, choking on her breaths, unable to think clear with her thoughts growing hazy.

“Inside of me, please, Dean, fill me up.” She felt his cock twitching inside of her, forcing her to add more pressure on her clit, crying his name as she came. Dean followed her down the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he came with a “Fuck” leaving him.

Both were heavily breathing, not daring to part with their bodies still joined, just like their jumping hearts. (Y/n) murmured his name as she combed a hand through his hair, eyes finding his, “I love you Dean, no matter what will happen between us, I belong to you, as much as you belong to me.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

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afterdarkprincess · 6 months

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all you ever did was wreck me (yeah you wreck me) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,278 Summary: Newly returned Dean Ambrose has a press event at the WWE Performance Center and World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins is among those there to greet him. They find one another in a practice room long after everyone else has gone home and things escalate quickly. Post

The Bloodline- Roman & Sami

ours Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,990 Summary: After WarGames, Roman decides what Sami Zayn's place is in the bloodline, a willing hole for them to use. Post Roman's Pet Rating: Explicit Word Count: 859 Summary: Roman's pet Sami serves the Tribal Chief and earns his reward Post

Sami & Jey & Cody Rhodes

Can't Keep My Hands to Myself Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,053 Summary: Things get a little heated in the bus after the Fastlane Press Conference, Sami facetimes his boyfriend to get in on the action. Part 1 Part 2

Jey Uso & Cody Rhodes

you can be rough, I can take it Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,108 Summary: Set after Fastlane 2023 press conference- Cody and Jey fall into bed together after winning the undisputed tag team championships. Post

Jey Uso & Sami Zayn & Cody Rhodes & Seth Rollins

all's fair in love and war Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,413 Summary: Aftermath of November 20th Monday Night Raw- Jey panics at hearing Randy Orton's name out of Cody's mouth. He's lost the advantage and feels less secure than ever in his position on their team, but Sami, Cody, and Seth are there to support and spoil him. Part 1 Part 2

LA Knight & JD McDonagh

nothing safe is worth the drive (and I will follow you home) Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1,305 Summary: LA Knight waits and watches and worries as JD fights in the Wargames match and comforts him afterwards. Post

Seth Rollins & Jey Uso

dont worry, I'll be gentle Rating: Explicit Word Count: 331 Summary: Seth ties up Jey for some playtime Post

Jey Uso x Reader

can you feel how much I want you? Rating: Mature Word Count: 774 Summary: You've had one of the best nights of your life at the Royal Rumble, and you go out with the rest of the locker room to celebrate and run into your best friend Jey after a few drinks. Post

CM Punk/Drew McIntyre

i won't be denied by you (the animal inside of you) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 932 Summary: Drew McIntyre is obsessed with CM Punk. Haunted by CM Punk. Possessed by him. Post

Winner Take All Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,778 Summary: After their encounters on the April 29th Monday Night RAW, Drew McIntyre finds CM Punk backstage. Alone. Post

Solo Sikoa/ Sami Zayn

Leather & Lace Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,009 Summary: Solo Sikoa finds himself as the new Tribal Chief. The Tribal Chief gets what the Tribal Chief wants. Solo Sikoa wants Sami Zayn. Post

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swabsandcream · 11 months

Text

No Ordinary Fan [Part 2]

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jeffrey become more involved with one another since their initial encounter.

Warnings: Sexual content (18+), minors dni

A/N: Jeffrey is portrayed as a single man in this fic.

It had been a week since Y/N met her favorite actor for the first time and somehow managed to catch his eye all in one day. It was impossible to describe the barrage of emotions she felt afterwards. She even found herself bursting into a fit of hysterics once she got home that night, jumping around and screaming as if she had won the lottery. It went on for quite some time, and like Jeffrey had promised, he gave her a call that same day. All the way up to this point, their conversations had consisted of them trying to get to know one another. They shared their interests like their taste in music, favorite foods, and even the tv shows they were currently watching. Jeffrey enjoyed talking to Y/N just as much as she liked talking to him, despite their age differences.

Both of them had agreed to keep their relations private, refusing to tell anyone that they’re talking to one another. Jeffrey wanted to keep anything from leaking to the press prematurely, and Y/N didn’t want to be bombarded by his other fans on social media. They were enjoying the talking stage so far, but since Jeffrey had finished up his meet and greets, he decided to take things a step further. After texting Y/N back and forth a couple of times since the day started, he eventually asked her if she would like to come over to his house for dinner that night. Turns out he lived in the country area located right outside of her city which was about an hour away. This would be considered as their first date, so Y/N was feeling indecisive about the matter. Jeffrey assured her that she could decline the offer if she didn’t feel comfortable with it, but after taking a moment to think and consider the possibilities, she decided to join him after all.

Shortly after accepting the invitation to her dream man’s house, she found herself in front of the bathroom mirror once again for a quick pep-talk. “Ok. You got this. You’re gonna go over his house and treat him like you would treat any other guy. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date. Just breathe, and please don’t be weird.”

She only had a couple hours to get ready, so she used her time wisely. She showered and shaved in every single place she so much as suspected there might be hair. Then she went to assess her wardrobe, carefully selecting her outfit in accordance with what she feels could possibly happen that night. She wanted to look sexy, but not too provocative to where he may think that she only came over for one thing. She shuffled through her clothes and found a white, long-sleeved dress that draped down to her knees. She hadn’t worn the dress in a while, but it still fit perfectly, and went well with the light makeup she had put on before she headed out to reunite with Jeffrey.

Roughly an hour and thirty minutes later, Y/N arrived at Jeffrey’s multi-million dollar estate in the country. She felt like she was in a movie, having to stop in front of a huge gate and wait until she was granted entry, then pulling in front of the most beautiful mansion she had ever seen. In fact, it was the only mansion she had ever seen up close and in person, being from the city and a part of the working class. She was taking in the view as she got out of her car, and before she could even make it up the stairway, she was greeted by an ecstatic Jeffrey while he stood in the doorway to his home.

“Welcome! I’m so glad you- oh my.” He paused, watching Y/N as she walked up the stairway and stood right in front of him. “God you’re beautiful.” He said with a soft smile. “I feel like I might be underdressed.”

His outfit was very homey, a plain white t-shirt with black jogging pants. He also had on what’s presumed to be his reading glasses. Y/N had only seen him wearing them occasionally on the internet but seeing him like this in person felt like a dream to her.

“No, you look good to me.” Y/N’s comment only made Jeffrey’s smile grow wider, his dimples becoming more visible in the process. He then took Y/N by the hand and brought her inside of his expansive house.

As they walked through the foyer, Y/N was captivated by the interior design of his home. Jeffrey on the other hand couldn’t take his eyes off of her, finding amusement in her wide-eyed expression as she continued to look around. As they proceeded through the hallway, they were greeted by two barking dogs, each of them choosing one of the humans’ legs to paw at.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you about my babies.”

“Awe they’re so adorable! What are their names?” Y/N asked as she squatted down to pet the overly excited dog in front of her.

“This is Bandit.” He lifted up and held the dog that stood at his feet. “And that’s Irwin you’ve got right there.”

Y/N proceeded to introduce herself to his pet and allowed it to give her a couple of kisses before standing back up. Jeffrey took note of how well she handled being around his excitable pets and how much they enjoyed being around her as well. The two then continued down his lengthy hallway, the smell of food growing stronger as they made their way into the kitchen.

"God, that smells amazing! You didn't tell me you were actually going to cook. I thought you might've ordered takeout or something." Y/N went straight for the sink to thoroughly wash her hands, Jeffrey following behind her as he lowered his dog back onto the wooden floor.

"Suprise, suprise!" His voice was cheerful as he took his turn at the sink. "It's already done, I put it on the table and everything." He finished washing his hands and guided Y/N over to the dining room next to them. He had a long, rectangular dining room table made of marble. On it were two plates of a meal that the two of them mutually enjoyed, along with two stemmed glasses of white wine. The effort and the time he spent putting this together did not go unrecognized by Y/N, referring to him as a true gentleman that knows how to treat a lady.

The two sat across from each other and began to enjoy their delicious meal. They had a detailed conversation about his memories of playing Negan and the on set shenanigans, especially with his good friend Norman Reedus. Y/N didn’t have nearly as many interesting personal stories to share, but Jeffrey listened intently regardless. She particularly loved the way he looked at her whenever she was speaking, like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Although they had finished having dinner, they continued to talk while sitting at the table.

“Perfect.” He muttered, keeping his gaze on her as she told a story about a funny moment she had at work. She cut her story short, not quite hearing what he had said.

“What did you say?” She asked.

“I said you’re perfect. Everything about you. You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” Jeffrey’s voice was deep and sultry, sending chills down Y/N’s spine as she finished her glass of wine. She didn’t have time to respond before Jeffrey got up out of his chair and made his way over to her on the other side of the table. He stood behind her and gently placed his large hands onto her shoulders, leaning down to whisper into her ear.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” His seductive tone combined with the grip he had on her shoulders was a lot for Y/N to bear at the moment. She could feel a buzz coming on from the wine she drank, along with the growing arousal in between her thighs. He took his hands off of her and allowed his lips to brush against her ear as he stood straight up, stepping back from his date’s chair. With no hesitation, she stood up and took his hand as they made their way out of the dining room and into the movie theater he had built inside his home.

She gasped at the sight of the massive screen surrounded by an extra-long sofa that extended from one side of the room to the other. After listening to how much she loves watching films and tv shows, he knew that this room would be her favorite room of them all. He brought her over to the sofa, and they sat down next to each other, leaving a small space in between them. Y/N started lightly bouncing on the sofa with the intent to further entice the man beside her.

"Hmm comfy. Good for...a lot of things." Y/N's flirtatious behavior was definitely working at this point as Jeffrey's lips slowly curled up into a sinful smile.

"A lot of things like what exactly? Could you be more specific?" He placed a hand on her thigh, being covered by her dress, slowly rubbing it with his thumb.

Without a second thought, Y/N grabbed his hand and slid it underneath her dress, allowing his fingers to travel up the bare skin of her thigh. He exhaled deeply, taking in the feeling of her warm and delicate skin all the way up to the dampened cloth covering her warmth. Jeffrey used his free hand to adjust the protruding bulge in his pants, leaning in so close to her face that their noses were touching. She didn't say a word, allowing her unstable breathing to speak for itself.

"Tell me you want this." He whispered.

"I want this." She cooed, granting him permission to press his lips onto hers. From there, the two lovers were entangled with one another on the massive sofa with nothing but the sounds of their acts of pleasure.

#jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jeffreydeanmorgan #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm

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hollybell51 · 1 year

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ok i know you said requests are backlogged but i also read your sam winchester fic (oh my god???? so good!!!!!) and i noticed that you put dean on your tag list form and i am literally in love with him so if you get time could you do like a hurt/confort fic for him where the reader gets like seriously injured and tells him she loves him because she thinks she's dying and doesn't wanna die without saying it?

Anon you are in luck, the supernatural brainrot is still going strong. Also if you wanna be tagged in stuff make sure you submit responses to that form otherwise I don't know what usernames to put xx

The other thing

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Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 5.8K

Summary: hunting a ghost that only seems to attack young women, you volunteer yourself as bait. The plan doesn't exactly go to plan, leading to some confessions being made.

Content: ANGST. Angst, besties. Hurt/comfort, mainly hurt but there is some comfort there, whump (sorta), mostly Dean's perspective but still second person narrative voice (loml), probably bad characterisation but I think it's passable???? Sam is like the no. 1 Dean/you shipper, A+ wingman. Badly written emotional vulnerability but I tried I promise. Kissing, first kisses, "I love you"s, bit of blood but not too explicit, hospitals, etc. etc. Dean is a warning on his own but yknow what I love him. I may have missed some stuff so please don't hesitate to catch me on it!

Notes: ft. my freaking awful titles lmaoooo. This isn't really set during any actual episode, but I'm sorta working off only having watched the first two seasons so just assume it takes place somewhere around then. Also the more I watch this the more I just wanna grab him and put him in my pocket or something, it's so bizarre. He's so pretty. I love his cockiness, I love the little eyebrow thing he does, I love the little jaw thing he does. Sorry if I messed up any lore or anything, writing this was a fever dream but tbh I had fun, it's nice to just sorta write you know? Thanks for the suggestion Anon

“Guys, can you hurry up?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder, frantically sprinkling fuel over the exposed corpse below. He couldn’t see all that much in the darkness, but it didn’t exactly look like you had the upper hand. None of them had realised how big the ghost was until now, and with the machete it was currently slashing at you…

“Almost there!” Sam shouted, striking a match and casting it into the grave. The remains went up with a “whoomp!”, the ghost howled and stumbled back. It was difficult to really know what happened in those few moments as the light from the burning remains glinted off the metal of the machete and the ghost shimmered and began to disappear, but what was clear was that something had happened to you.

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping your own weapon with a dull thud. You staggered, catching yourself on a headstone before your knees gave out and you sank to the ground. You were hunched over awkwardly, your shoulders heaving, hands clutched tight to your stomach.

“(Y/N)?” Dean asked, frowning. Were you hurt? Just out of breath?

“I’m alright,” you called. “Just… give me a second.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered, dropping the salt and packet of matches and running towards you. “Dean!” he yelled as he knelt down, stripping off his jacket and balling it up, pressing it to your stomach.

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. He was frozen, the can of fuel dangling limply from his fingers. He’d known using you as bait for a psychotic ghost murderer was a bad idea, even when you’d insisted that you’d be fine. It wasn't that he didn’t think you could handle it – he’d seen you in action enough times to know you were a force to be reckoned with – but he’d had a horrible feeling something was going to go wrong from the moment you’d laid out your plan.

“He goes after girls, right?” You’d had an uncomfortable light in your eyes, all steely determination that Dean simultaneously loved and hated. Loved because, well, it was so you and it meant you were getting shit done, hated because more often than not you were putting yourself in danger. And yes, he was aware of the hypocrisy.

He’d tried to talk you out of it, Sam had too. But once your mind was set – and set it was – no amount of convincing on anyone’s part could do anything about it. The second the idea had begun to form in your brain, the path was laid and there was no point trying to change that.

“You better get over here man, quick!” Sam’s voice dropped, but wasn’t quiet enough that Dean couldn’t hear his next words, addressed to you. “Just hold on, Dean’s coming. Keep breathing, ok?”

Fuck, that didn’t sound good. Dean’s limbs jerked back to life. He didn’t waste another second, sprinting the few metres through the forest of tombstones to where his brother was bent over you.

“Don’t just stand there!” Sam yelled, one hand pressing his jacket to your stomach. “Help me!”

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, kneeling beside you and taking over from Sam without any input from Dean himself. Dully, he noticed that there was already a warm, damp patch on the jacket, as well as a dark spot glistening darkly over your side. Shit.

“I’ll be fine,” you’d insisted when he'd raised his doubts. “I’ve got you guys. You just burn the bones fast, I reckon I can hold him off for a few minutes.” Then you’d shrugged, grinning. “And if it all goes to hell, I know you’ve got my back.”

Yeah, fat lot of help they’d been.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He got me on his way out,” you laughed bitterly. “Can you believe that? Halfway gone and he just–” You broke off, making a vague slashing gesture with your free hand. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No, no you did fine. We shoulda been quicker.” Dean assured you, pressing harder. “Sorry,” he muttered as you let out a pained whimper.

“‘Salright,” you grimaced. “My fault. Dean, I gotta–”

“Shh, no, it’s fine. It’s ok, you’ll be ok.”

You shook your head, tears mixing with the sweat on your face. He watched one trace a path through the dirt caked on your skin. “It’s important, please.”

He shook his head. “The only thing that’s important right now is keeping your eyes open, yeah? Just… just do that.”

“I’m calling 911,” Sam said. “Just stay there, don’t move.”

“I’m not planning on taking off, don’t worry.” You smiled tightly, then your face twisted in what Dean thought was fear, panic even. It was like a punch to his stomach, he hadn’t seen you look that scared since… Well, ever. Your hand fumbled over his, trying to find something to grab.

“It’s alright,” he told you, pressing on the jacked one-handed as the fingers of the other one twined with your own. “It’s alright, (Y/N).”

“No, no Dean, you have to burn me. Make sure you salt me, uh… Sage, use sage too.”

He felt the blood drain from his face, cold rushing through him. “What?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone. You have to get rid of me, ok?”

Oh God. Oh God. Dean looked up, searching frantically for Sam. He was watching you while he talked to the emergency operator, his fist pressed against his mouth and his hand shaking where he held the phone. He met Dean’s eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone because you’re not going anywhere.” Dean’s voice was blessedly steady, despite the uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“Promise me,” you whispered, then shouted when he didn’t respond. “Promise me, Dean!”

He gripped your hand tighter, your own fingers digging harshly into his flesh. “I promise you will be ok,” he said.

You sobbed, your body heaving under the rapidly dampening jacket. That was way too much blood for Dean’s liking, and judging by the increasing urgency of Sam’s quiet conversation on the phone, he felt the same.

Your panicked gaze locked on Dean’s face, tears coursing down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna go,” you choked. “I didn’t tell you. I can’t go.”

Didn’t tell him what? It didn’t matter. He squeezed your hand in what he hoped was a more reassuring than painful way. “It’s ok, you’re not going anywhere, alright? You’re staying right here, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve gotta listen to me, Dean–”

“No, tell me later. Just hold on, save your energy.”

“Dean–”

“(Y/N) hold on!”

“Dean!”

“Dean, listen to her.” Sam had finished on the phone, the screen shining eerily on his face. At Dean’s raised eyebrow he gave a tiny nod. Yeah, there was an ambulance on the way.

“Sam, she is not gonna die.” He shook his head, turning back to you. “We’ve got all the time in the world, ok sweetheart?” He searched frantically for something to say, anything to keep your attention. He was no doctor, but he knew it would be bad if you passed out. Very bad.

“Uh… fuck.” He broke off, floundering. What would keep you awake? What could he possibly say after you’d just made him promise to get rid of your spirit once you were dead, which was not going to happen.

“It’s actually not a bad night,” he started, already kicking himself mentally. “Bit of a breeze. I guess it’s sheltered down there, you’ve got a nice, uh, headstone blocking it. Ground’s not too bad either, not too hard. Glad it’s not gravel, my knees’re killing me.”

A watery laugh clawed its way from you before another sob wracked your body. “Dean, I gotta tell you…”

“Can you see the stars from down there?” he asked, cutting you off. “I bet they’re bright out here. No light pollution.” He grabbed your hand as your fingers loosened their grip, dread settling like a stone in his stomach.

Your eyes wandered away from his face, sweeping over the space behind him. You nodded, but the haziness that had slid over your face didn’t do anything to help Dean’s panic, especially now that you weren’t holding his hand nearly as tightly as you had been.

“Wait,” he said, squeezing your fingers. “Just focus on me, keep looking at me.”

Your eyes swung back to his. “Please,” you whispered. “Please Dean, listen to me”

Sam’s hand settled on his shoulder, large and heavy. He nodded to your face when Dean glanced at him, and to his horror he realised there were specks of blood on your lips.

He swallowed hard. He hadn’t realised, but this was probably one of the worst moments of his life. He’d entirely ignored even the possibility of you being injured, let alone dying – just thinking the word felt wrong – since you’d joined him and Sam, doggedly refusing to acknowledge the near physical ache the idea of your absence caused. Now it was happening, right in front of him. Heat prickled behind his eyes.

He took a deep breath, steadying his voice. “Yeah, alright sweetheart. You tell me, I’m listening.”

Relief washed over your face. “I wanted to say it,” you whispered, “before. I didn’t want it like this.”

“It’s ok. Sh, it’s ok.”

Your body convulsed under his hand with another sob, more blood leaking from the corners of your mouth. “I love you,” you choked. “I love you so much. I don’t wanna get stuck because I never told you.”

Oh. Oh. Dean’s mind went blank, then crashed right back into his skull. It was like swinging on a swing, at the peak of the arc where you floated a little before you started going down again. Yeah, that was his brain in that moment. Of course you’d have the guts to say it when he didn’t, even if it was out of fear of becoming an angry ghost. He cursed the universe and its cruel sense of humour. He faced horrors beyond most people’s imaginations almost every day, but still couldn’t say three simple words when he wanted to more than anything, and now you’d taken the first step for him and it was because you thought you were about to die. Someone up there must have hated his guts.

“I know,” he said finally, nodding. “I know you do. Hold on, ok? There’s an ambulance, it’s gonna get here any minute” It wasn’t what he wanted to tell you, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make his mouth cooperate.

You smiled, your grip on his hand all but nonexistent now. Your breathing was getting shallower by the second, your eyes unfocussed and no longer trained on his face. It was like now that you’d said your piece, you weren’t even trying to stay awake. He didn’t like to be too dramatic, but he was almost convinced that he was the one who’d been stabbed, not you.

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), not you. Please, not you.”

A wailing siren sounded in the distance, blue and red lights flashing rapidly brighter as the ambulance drew closer.

“Just a few more minutes,” Sam said, pacing. His eyes never left your face. “Come on, (Y/N), any second now.”

You were perfectly still, too still. Dean leant over, careful to keep applying pressure to your stomach as he listened for breath. The faintest hint of it brushed his cheek, not enough. He blinked hard, holding you against his chest, his face pressed into your hair. It still smelled like the cheap shampoo from the most recent motel, mixed with blood and dirt and sweat. It should have been disgusting, but to Dean it smelled so right. He wondered what that said about his lifestyle choices.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice choked. “(Y/N)...”

Your hand slipped from his, and it was like a damn breaking. He felt his shoulders jerk, something between a sob and a grunt torn from him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, clinging so tightly to you he was half scared he was going to hurt you. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, (Y/N), I love you.”

The siren was deafening as the ambulance skidded to a stop, Sam waving frantically to the paramedics swarming the graveyard. Someone pulled Dean back despite his protests. Cold stung his cheeks, the breeze from earlier having turned into a wind. It vaguely occurred to him that the reason it was so cold on his face was because he was crying.

Everything was a blur as you were engulfed by uniformed paramedics, your limp form lifted onto a stretcher and born away into the vehicle. Someone tried to talk to him before Sam, uncannily put together and coherent, spoke to them and explained. There was a lot of nodding and “thankyou”s, then Dean was being loaded into the Impala like a little kid and Sam was driving like you were in the back seat instead of in the ambulance.

All he was aware of at the hospital was Sam’s hand gripping his arm, muttering that he needed to pull it together “for her, man.” The harsh, clinical lights and the rush that everyone seemed to be in wasn’t helping Dean’s panic, every prone body he glimpsed taking on your face until he blinked and it was a complete stranger. What if the unthinkable really happened? What if you died, and he hadn’t been able to save you, keep you safe like you’d been so sure he would? What if you really did linger as a tormented spirit, what if he and Sam had to hunt you, get rid of you like you’d said? He didn’t know if he’d be able to do that.

Finally, a serious looking man with a clipboard and a badge approached them. “Are you with the young woman–” he glanced at the clipboard, “(Y/N), who just came in?”

“Yes,” Sam said quickly. “Yeah, how is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s damn lucky someone put as much pressure as they did on that cut,” he sighed. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s stable.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking.

“Thankyou,” Sam smiled. “Thank you, doctor. When can we see her?”

He frowned at the clipboard again, tapping his fingers on the plastic. “Well she’s unconscious, I daresay she will be for a while yet.”

“Please,” Dean interrupted. “I– we just need to see her.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You boys family?”

“Brothers,” Sam lied at the same time as Dean said “husband.”

“I’m her husband,” he went on, ignoring the little flip his stomach did. Somehow, the familiar lie felt different now that he’d told you how he felt, even if you hadn’t heard. “He’s my brother in law.”

“Ok,” he shrugged, “but she won’t… Well, she was stabbed. There’s a lot of tubes, bandages, and she’s out cold. It might be…” He stopped, sighing. “Some people find it confronting, seeing their loved ones like this.”

Dean felt Sam glance at him, but he ignored it. “Trust me,” he said with a tight smile, “I’ve seen worse.”

He had not, as it turned out, seen worse. You were completely still apart from the gentle rise and fall of your chest, a thin cotton blanket pulled up and tucked in with clinical precision around your ribs. You had a little cut on your forehead that Dean hadn’t noticed at the graveyard. A drip trailed from the back of your hand to a cluster of bags suspended above you, a thin plastic tube wrapped around your head just under your nose. Oxygen, he assumed. If he ignored all that, you could have been sleeping.

Sam pushed the door open softly, as if he was afraid he’d wake you up. Dean hesitated a moment, then followed him inside. Up close, he could see the light sheen of sweat on your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the pallor of your lips and cheeks. He reached out to touch you, maybe lay his hand on your forehead or smooth your hair away from your face, but drew his hand back at the last moment. He didn’t want to somehow unbalance you from whatever tightrope you were walking right now, even though he knew that was illogical. Still, even breathing the same air felt somehow dangerous for you.

“Did she tell you?” he asked Sam eventually.

“That she loves you?” He didn’t give Dean a chance to explain that he hadn’t meant that, that he’d been talking about your fear of not-quite-death. “She never said it outright, but I sort of worked it out, y’know? You guys weren’t really that subtle.”

Dean frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” He shrugged, gesturing vaguely between your prone form and Dean. “You’re always looking at her, when you think she can’t see you. She does the same. Always just sorta… doing little things for each other. And you’re always touching her, I don’t know if you realised.”

“Huh. I didn’t.” It was true, although it didn’t really surprise him. He liked the little smile you gave him whenever he picked something up from a store for you – a favourite candy, something you’d mentioned you felt like – and he’d just assumed when you did similar things for him it was because you were, well, you. But now that he thought about it, he couldn’t name half as many times when you’d taken the same care and effort for Sam. Not that you’d neglected his brother, it was just… slightly less personal, less specially catered. He felt a surge of warmth for you, then a pang as his eyes landed again on your too-pale face.

As for touching you, well, he wanted to. All the time. He wanted to put his hand on your shoulder, wrap his arms around your waist, hold you close and feel your heartbeat against his. Every brief half-hug or brush of your skin against his was something precious to him, so of course he’d want more. His mind flashed back to the tightness of your hand in his at the graveyard, the warm slick of your blood as you’d clung to him. Even that had been almost euphoric, past the raw terror and sickening dread. He was going to hold you like that again – under better circumstances – if it killed him.

“Yeah,” Sam went on. “She’s the same, actually.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I remember this one time, Illinois, I think. We got a motel room with the longest couch you've ever seen. You sat down in the corner, and she comes and sits right next to you! When she’s got, like, another two metres of space to choose from.”

Dean did remember that, actually. He remembered the rush he’d gotten as you’d squished up against his side, complaining that you were cold even though your skin had been warm to the touch. He still thought about it, sometimes. “Huh,” he said again.

“Yeah.” It was silent apart from the beeping of your monitor and the normal hospital sounds outside the room, then Sam turned and faced him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Dean shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have let her put herself out there like that in the first place.”

“No, I was supposed to have her back. I shouldn’t have taken so long with the salt.”

He wasn’t wrong, Dean knew that, but it had been him who’d agreed to your plan. You’d put your faith in him just as much as you had in Sam, and he’d let you down. He hadn’t liked the whole thing from the start, but still he’d gone ahead with it. And now here you were, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and Sam was beating himself up about it. It was all so wrong, and Dean could have stopped it so easily. But as he looked at you, he swore he could hear you snorting derisively at him, crossing your arms with a firm “bullshit!”

“It’s my choice,” you’d say. “You’re really gonna try to steal my credit?”

“She’d call bullshit on you, you know,” he said.

His brother shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, you too probably. She’d poke you, right here.” He reached around and stuck his finger firmly in the middle of Dean’s chest, right where you’d done countless times.

Despite himself, Dean smiled. Then your drip beeped and he was jerked painfully back to the present, and the problem at hand.

“Did you know she was so scared?” he asked. “Of, y’know…” Dying. Haunting someone. Getting stuck here, not being able to move on.

Sam didn’t answer for a moment, then he sighed, still looking at you. “She mentioned it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Why didn’t she tell me?

“She didn’t want me to. She thought you’d think… I don’t know, that she wouldn’t be able to do the job. She really didn’t want you to know she was scared, she was so worried about what you thought of her. She said you were…” He swallowed, cleared his throat, continued. “She said you were never scared, and she didn’t want you to think she was. Even when I told her we were all terrified.”

“Damn right,” Dean muttered. You’d done a great job at putting on such a brave front, he’d sometimes wondered if there was actually something wrong with you. Or maybe not wrong, but different. He’d never known anyone who could handle the things they did so well, not even his dad. It was something of a relief to know that there was more to it.

“She was convinced she’d be the type of person to get stuck,” he continued. “Kept saying she wouldn’t be able to move on, that she had too much that she was holding onto and she didn’t know how to let go.” He finally raised his head, looking at Dean with what he thought was pity. Any other time, that would have annoyed him.

“That’s why she said it,” he muttered, the uncomfortable lump back in his throat. When you woke up, he was going to give you a serious talk about timing.

Sam nodded.

“And she didn’t–” His voice broke, and he turned away. He wanted to punch something, put his fist through the wall or slam his hand down on the table, but he was too scared it would somehow disturb you. “I didn’t say it back.”

“Woah, hey.” Sam’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steadying him. “You did, man. You did.”

“I was too late! She was out!”

“Yeah, and you can tell her again when she wakes up.”

“What if–”

“No.” Sam shook his head firmly, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder, anchoring him to the spot. “She’s waking up, and when she does you’re gonna ask her out on a proper date, she’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna sort yourselves out like adults. Ok?”

Dean looked away. The prospect of asking you out suddenly felt enormous. Of course he’d taken girls on dates before, he knew what he was doing, but that had been more along the lines of “I think you’re cute and you’re clearly into me, let’s get dinner and then we can hook up.” He’d never faced “I’ve been pining over you for months and I was too scared to do anything about it but you almost died and told me you loved me – love, not like – and I have no idea where this is gonna go but Sam’s right and asking you out is probably the best next step even if it’s absolutely terrifying”. He was a total mess, and he knew it.

“Ok?” Sam asked again, insistent.

“Ok,” he agreed. “Ok.”

“Good.”

You didn’t wake up until a day later. Well, that was according to the time and date displayed on the clock opposite your bed. Dean didn’t really have any recollection of time actually passing.

He was slumped in the chair beside your bed, your hand held gently in his own as he dozed. He hadn’t let himself fully sleep since you’d been brought in, too afraid that something would happen while he was out, despite all Sam’s urging. Eventually he’d just sent his brother back to the motel, assuring him that he’d be fine on his own and that he wanted to be there for you when you came around.

He jerked out of his half-nap when your fingers twitched, cursing when his pain stabbed through his neck. Snoozing in hospital chairs was never a good idea.

“Fuck,” you groaned, frowning at the ceiling.

Dean cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “(Y/N)?”

You turned, your face clearing when you saw him. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart skip a beat. “Dean,” you whispered. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged, making to withdraw his hand, but your grip tightened. “I’m the ‘welcome back’ committee.”

“Oh.” You nodded, smiling softly. You ran your free hand over the bandage circling your waist, studying the IV embedded in your skin. “We got him, didn’t we?” you asked.

Right, the ghost. “Uh, yeah, he’s gone. Your plan worked,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“It was a pretty good plan,” you grinned.

He shook his head. “It almost got you killed.”

“But it worked,” you insisted, your eyes shining. “He’s gone, Dean. Who knows how many people we saved?”

“And what about you, huh?”

You shrugged. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He took a deep breath, bending his head so you wouldn’t see the moisture he was sure he could feel gathering in his eyes. How were you so casual about it? It had been your life on the line, you who’d gotten stabbed, who’d been bleeding out, terrified of not dying properly and becoming a ghost yourself.

“Hey,” you said gently, your hand slipping from his, sliding up over his arm to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“You almost died, (Y/N). Sam told me, what you said about getting stuck, being unable to move on.”

You were silent for a moment, then you sighed. “Well it’s just awkward now that I’m still here.”

Despite himself, Dean laughed. He raised his head, placing his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb in a circle over it. Your skin was warm as ever, dry to the touch. It was such a contrast from the graveyard, one he was glad of. You smiled, some of the colour already returning to your face.

“I’ve always got your back,” he said, “no matter what. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted to, I really wanted to. But I just… I don’t know, I just couldn’t. Every time I tried it was like this brick wall went up in my brain.” You shrugged, drawing your hand back as you shifted to sit more upright. Dean missed its warmth instantly. “You’re always so… unfazed, you know? It felt kinda stupid.”

He snorted. Sure, Sam had already told him what you’d said, but it was different coming from you.

You folded your arms, as if you’d just won an argument. “See?”

“Shit, (Y/N),” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not – what’d you say? – unfazed. This shit gets to me too, I just…” He thought, unsure how to phrase it. “I didn’t wanna scare you,” he finally settled for. “Didn’t want you to worry.”

“Oh.” You picked at a loose thread in the blanket, biting your lip. “And the other thing?”

“Yeah, the other thing.” He’d known this was coming, he’d tried to find the words as he’d sat beside you, waiting for you to wake up. He’d almost had it, he told himself. How hard could it be, after all?

“I didn’t wanna die with, like, unfinished business. That’s the main reason people stick around. It felt like if I didn’t get it out there, I wouldn’t ever be able to… keep going. Move on.” You swallowed, not meeting his eyes. “It’s ok,” you went on, “if you don’t, y’know, feel the same. I’d understand.”

So you hadn’t heard him. Dean wasn’t surprised, but some part of him had been clinging to the hope that somehow his words had gotten through to you even as you were bundled into the back of the ambulance.

He shook his head. “I just wish you’d said something before.”

You looked up, hope chasing confusion across your face. “What?”

“I wish you’d said something before,” he repeated. “It would’ve saved us both a lotta trouble.”

“I don’t…” You frowned. “What’re you…?”

He shrugged, his heart beating a million mph. “I love you too,” he said simply.

You blinked, opening your mouth to say something, closing it again. Slowly, a smile crept across your features. “Alright,” you grinned, way too smug for Dean’s liking. “Alright then.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but the threat was empty and you both knew it.

You shifted again, leaning towards him. “Come here,” you said softly.

He stood, ignoring the ache in his back from the bloody uncomfortable chair.

Impatiently, you beckoned him closer.

He raised an eyebrow, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “Do I get to kiss you?”

“That’s the goal, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, tilting your face against his hand. Dean wasn’t fond of the whole “butterflies in your stomach” thing, but he had no idea how else to describe the feeling that tiny gesture conjured. It really was like someone had released a swarm of the things inside him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

You were watching him expectantly, almost like you were challenging him. “Go on,” your eyes seemed to be saying, “try it.”

He did. Your lips were softer than he’d expected, and just as warm as your hands. You made a sound somewhere in the realm of a sigh as his hand slid down to rest on your shoulder, pushing gently towards him, your own fingers running over his jaw to brush along the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe he’d waited this long to kiss you, and now that he’d finally taken the plunge, he never wanted to stop.

But he had to breathe, unfortunately, and so did you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. You were still close enough that he could feel the words against his skin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he replied.

You laughed, a soft, breathy sound, and closed the tiny gap once more. “I love you,” you murmured between kisses, “and I’m sorry it took me almost dying to say it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too.”

The door handle clicked, the hinges squealing. “Ok, so I ran into the doctor on the way in— woah.”

Dean stood up so fast he almost overbalanced.

Sam was standing in the doorway with a disposable coffee cup in each hand, his mouth hanging open as he stared from you to Dean and back again.

You cleared your throat. “Hi, Sam.”

He shut his mouth, shoving the cups into Dean’s hands as he crossed the room and bent to hug you with a muttered “thank God.”

“Watch it,” you warned, “I’m injured.” But your arms snaked around his back anyway, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into his neck.

“You’re never allowed to scare us like that again,” Sam said firmly.

Your eyes found Dean’s over Sam’s shoulder, and you smiled. “I’m not really planning on it, don’t worry.”

Sam just laughed. “How’re you feeling?” he asked when he finally let you go.

“Ok,” you nodded, then frowned. “Hungry.”

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. He’d gotten bored some time in the morning, and the packet of pudding that had been left on your bedside table along with a bottle of water had been practically begging to be tasted. He’d wondered if you’d wake up before they brought a replacement, he’d even felt a little bad eating your food, but he was hungry, dammit, and when Sam had left he’d said he would come back “later” which meant “tonight”. And that was too long for Dean to wait. He also didn’t have any money on him, and wouldn’t have left your side for the cafeteria when the pudding was right there.

“What?” you asked.

“He ate the pudding they left you,” Sam said. Dean never should have mentioned it, but he’d been desperate to get Sam to bring him something and it had felt convincing over the phone.

Dean glared at his brother and the coffees – which were very noticeably not the fast food he’d had in mind. “You try living in that chair for a day, see how long you can go without.” Then he turned to you. “You didn’t miss much, don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m hungry!” you protested, crossing your arms and looking for all the world like a petulant toddler.

Sam’s words about asking you out echoed in his mind.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” he said. “At an actual restaurant, not a fast food place. As soon as they let you outta here, alright? In the meantime…” He reached for the bottle of water, handing it to you with an apologetic shrug. It was better than nothing.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “This is a pretty shit first date.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. Then, on second thoughts, “It’s not a first date, Sam’s here.”

“Geez,” Sam muttered, “sorry. And after I got you a coffee too.”

“Did you get me one?” you asked hopefully.

“No,” he said slowly. “But you can have mine if you want?”

You sighed. “I don’t like it how you do. But thanks,” you added with a smile.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”

“Have a little faith, Sam.”

He smiled, glancing between you and Dean.

“You owe me a coffee, and you owe me a dinner,” you continued before he could say anything. Dean thanked you silently. He didn’t really want a shovel talk from his own brother right now, which he could see Sam was just dying to dish out. He wondered if you’d be getting one. Probably, but he had no doubts that it would be less “shovel” more “talk”.

“Soon as you’re fixed up,” he said. “I promise.”

“And it’ll be a date?”

“Sweetheart, it’ll be the best first date you’ve ever been on. Trust me.”

You just grinned, ignoring Sam’s fake-disgusted sigh. “Ok.”

212 notes · View notes

imagineteamfreewill · 1 year

Text

A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Title: A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, broken bone and pain from moving a broken bone, vomiting, passing out, mentions of splinting a broken bone, snowstorm, angst with a fluffy ending

Square/Trope Filled: Blizzard (SPN Christmas Bingo) and Rescue Mission (25 Days of Tropes)

Summary: On a solo hunt, you find yourself not only nursing a major injury, but snowed into a cabin on Christmas.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo)and fulfills a trope on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It is more angsty than my other Christmas fics, but I hope you all enjoy (even though it’s after the holidays). Dividers by @firefly-graphics

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

Highway 75 twisted through miles of deep forest, making it and the cabins nearby a picturesque location for honeymooning couples, college students on summer road trips, and families looking to unplug. It also made it perfect for wendigos and a handful of other creatures that liked to prey on the unsuspecting.

Snow crunched underneath your boots as you trekked away from the highway, heading for the log cabin you knew was a few miles in. The public trails all led in the opposite direction, but this was the shortest route and it would give you a chance to check out the area without worrying about civilians. Your backpack was full of nonperishable food and extra layers of clothing, along with your usual hunting supplies. You knew that Sam had slipped in an extra charger for your phone, along with batteries for the flashlight, and Dean had packed an extra knife somewhere in your bag. They always worried about you, despite the fact that you’d been hunting almost as long as they had. It wasn’t your first time going on a solo case, but the eeriness of the silent, winter woods made you wish that you’d taken Dean up on his offer to come with.

Behind you, the sun had sunk low on the horizon, casting shadows that stretched far across the ground. You shivered and zipped your coat up a little further, then pulled the maglight out of your pocket. It turned on with a click that felt far louder than necessary and you looked around.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong. You slowed, then stopped and turned in a circle, shining the flashlight in every direction. The light glanced off the trees and made the snow on the ground almost blindingly white, but there were no monsters to be seen and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You knew better, though. Your instincts were fine tuned after years of hunting, and when your gut told you something was wrong, you needed to listen.

You slipped your gun out of the thigh holster and clicked off the safety. After a moment, you began walking again, heading toward the cabin with a slightly faster pace. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stayed on high alert, all while trying not to trip over your boots or the bumpy forest floor hidden under the fresh powder. A cold wind blew through the trees, cutting through your clothing like a knife and making you curse under your breath. The first thing you’d have to do once you got to the cabin is start a fire to warm up, then eat. Your stomach had been growling ever since you’d parked in the public lot near the trailheads.

When the cabin was finally visible in the distance, you relaxed a little. As soon as you did, however, something grabbed your pack and yanked you backwards, sending you flying to the ground. Your flashlight flew out of your hand, its beam shining off to your right. You yelped, then lifted your gun and fired off two shots at the hulking beast above you. Its pale limbs blended into the snowy landscape, and it was only the weak light from the winter sunset that allowed you to see its face.

You’d read up on the news reports before leaving the bunker. You, Sam, and Dean had all agreed that it was a single wendigo that was taking out the hikers and photographers who’d braved the weather to take pictures of the trees covered with snow and ice. The reports had all been consistently spread out several weeks apart for over a decade, but it had been almost three months since the last one. You’d been skeptical that this was even a case worthy of your attention—after all, another hunter could have easily offed the monster without your knowledge—but Sam had been certain that the wendigo was still out there.

Now, as the monster growled at you from above, you realized that Sam had been right. The weather had been so bad that the trails had been closed for two months now, which meant that not only were you dealing with an incredibly strong wendigo, but you were dealing with a very hungry one, too. There hadn’t been anyone for it to hunt, and now you were its main target.

You cursed and righted yourself, scrambling to your feet and moving as far away from the wendigo as you could. A flare gun was in your other thigh holster and you quickly pulled it out, but before you could shoot, the creature disappeared. The woods fell deathly silent again and you tried not to breathe so loudly as you listened for any sign of the wendigo.

Slowly, you turned in a circle, surveying the quickly darkening forest. The sun was almost completely below the horizon and the flashlight had flickered off. The only light visible was the outdoor safety light by the cabin door a quarter mile away.

You stayed silent as you carefully made your way toward the cabin again, this time with your handgun in one hand and the flare gun in the other. When you were only a few hundred feet from the rickety cabin porch, the wendigo grabbed at your arm. It yanked you to the right and your handgun went flying. It discharged once, sending a bullet into a nearby tree, then disappeared in the shadows and snow. The wendigo’s claws tore through your coat like butter. Immediately, the cold slipped in through your layers and a shiver ran down your spine, but the adrenaline making your heart pound would quickly negate its effects.

You struggled against its grip. When it became clear that there would be no escaping the hungry monster’s grasp, you twisted as much as possible to get the flare gun into your dominant hand so you could shoot with better aim. It took a few tries before you were able to grab it and get your finger onto the trigger. You had one shot, and though your heart thundered in your chest and every part of your brain was screaming at you to fight and get away, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself so you could focus.

The trigger moved smoothly under your finger. You pulled and seconds felt like hours. You held your breath, listening as the flare lodged itself in the wendigo’s chest. It screeched and threw you away from itself, sending you flying through the air and into a fallen tree. Even over the creature’s horrific screams you heard the snap of your leg breaking upon impact. The snow did nothing to cushion your fall. You screamed too, your own cry mixing with the wendigo’s as it burned to ashes in the darkness of the forest.

All around you, the temperature continued to drop and snow began to fall. You clutched your thigh as sobs ripped through you, making your throat more and more hoarse with each passing minute. The pain shooting up your leg was unbearable every time you tried to move, and though you’d had worse injuries, you’d never had to face them alone.

Finally, rationality kicked in and you realized you had to get inside the cabin before hypothermia set in. The snow grew worse by the minute, and you vaguely remembered the radio host mentioning a blizzard coming down from the north. If you weren’t inside soon, you could freeze to death and nobody would find you for days. Getting to the cabin was your only hope of survival, no matter how painful it would be.

You groped around in the snow, digging through the heavy, wet powder until you were able to find one of the fallen tree’s branches. With the last bits of adrenaline still rushing through your veins, you pulled on it until it snapped off. It emerged from the snow with another firm tug, and then you were able to use it to push yourself up off the ground. The branch was long enough for you to use as a crutch if you hunched over. You just had to hope it would make it all the way to the cabin’s door.

The pain as you dragged yourself from where the wendigo had left you to the cabin porch was excruciating. Every survival instinct you had kicked in and you had to fight against yourself just to keep going.

“Come on, come on, open!” you screeched. You banged on the front door with your fist, being mindful to keep your weight on your good leg and keep yourself propped against the cracked wooden doorframe. Your makeshift crutch had fallen down beside you, but you left it alone—you wouldn’t need it until you got this door open.

The door swung open into the cabin with one last heavy shove. You almost fell through into the living room when it did. Snow blew in as you stumbled inside, tripping over the threshold with a shout, and grabbed onto the back of the couch a few feet inside the door. Thankfully, you managed to avoid much impact on your broken leg, but you still had to stop for a minute and gasp for air as the snow continued to blow into the cabin from the open door behind you. Black spots danced in your vision as you held onto the couch with a white-knuckled grip, trying to catch your breath.

When you finally managed to summon the energy to stand upright again, you pivoted on one foot to reach back and grab the makeshift crutch you’d left on the porch. You shook off the snow before pulling it inside, then locked the door and hobbled around to the front of the couch, using the crutch to support you most of the way. The fireplace was barren, not even ashes had been left behind by the previous occupants, but you were able to lower yourself to the floor between it and the couch. A stack of locks had been pushed up against the wall and you sent your silent thanks to whoever had had the forethought to stock it for the next guest.

Slowly but surely, the warmth of the fire filled the cabin, and the light from the flames allowed you to get a better look around. The lamp nearby hadn’t turned on when you’d tried, leaving you to believe that either the power had gone out or there was a problem with the generator. Either way, you weren’t in any shape to investigate, so the fire would have to do.

Your energy was slowly being sapped away by all the movement, but you needed to splint your leg and figure out if there was anything other triaging you could do before you passed out. After taking a few deep breaths, you braced yourself with one hand on the couch cushions and pushed yourself up. You wobbled on your good leg for a second, then grabbed your crutch and headed for the bathroom you’d noticed on your way in. A first aid kit had been wedged in the cabinet under the sink, and with it safely in hand, you limped back to your spot on the floor.

You collapsed onto the now snow-soaked rug, heaving as bile rose up in your throat. The pain worsened with every movement you made, and having to get up to get the first aid kit had taken an extreme toll on you.

Over the next few hours, you drifted in and out of consciousness as you put your leg into a splint and tried to fix your injuries as best as you could until you could call for help. The blizzard raged outside, and each time you came to, you stoked the fire, threw up beside you, and tried to triage as best as you could before passing out again. At some point, you managed to peel off the holsters on both legs, lamenting the loss of your weapons. You hoped that they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

A gust of cold wind coming in through the open door made your fire sputter, almost going out, and a shiver ran through your body before you could stop it. You groaned at the sharp knife of pain that went up your leg, then your hip and back.

“Shit! Sam, she’s hurt!”

Dean’s voice made you open your eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his face as he hovered over you. He cupped your cheek in his hand but you whined and shied away at the chill of his gloves met your heated skin.

“How long has she been here?” Sam asked.

The door slammed closed and the howling of the blizzard grew muffled again. Beside you, there was a heavy thud. The wood floor of the cabin shook beneath you as Sam and Dean hurried around. Someone shifted your leg on the rug and you cried out. Your eyes flew open and Dean was immediately above you, his eyes frantically trying to meet yours. He grabbed your hands before you could do any harm to him or Sam.

“Hey, hey, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re just fixing your splint a little bit and tryin’ to figure out what happened. Can you talk to me?”

You recognized that tone of voice—Dean was panicking, but he was trying not to show it. Something inside of you reminded you that he was mostly panicking because he didn’t know what had happened and that the wendigo was really gone. His anxiety wasn’t a sign that your leg was worse than you’d originally diagnosed.

It took you a moment, but you managed to croak out an answer. “It threw me,” you rasped. You licked your lips and swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in your mouth. “But it’s dead.”

He nodded and forced a small smile. His eyes were glossy, and in your pain-riddled mind, you knew that you didn’t want him to be.

“I’m okay,” you told him, and you tried to force a smile as well, but in reality, it was probably more of a weak grimace. “I think it’s just broken.”

Dean nodded again. “Okay. Okay. Sam’s gonna check it out. Did you take any painkillers?”

When you shook your head, he looked over his shoulder, then reached out and took the white bottle from his brother. With one hand, you tried to sit up without jostling your leg too much, but after throwing up so many times from the pain and the injury itself, you were weak. Dean noticed immediately, of course, and quickly ditched the bottle of pills to help you.

“Water?” you asked.

Sam was there immediately, holding out a bottle for you. You took it and he went back to searching through the first aid kit. Dean shook out a couple pills and passed them to you once you had the cap unscrewed on the bottle. You closed your eyes as you drank, panting against the open mouth of the bottle after a long drink, and when you opened them again, Dean had a bottle of whiskey in hand.

He smiled a little at your confused expression, then held up a packet of crackers you recognized from when you’d packed your bag. Behind him, Sam mumbled something and Dean shifted, moving from beside you to sit behind you so you could lean against his chest. He pulled you back against him and situated his legs on either side of you.

“Sam’s gonna fix your splint a little bit more so that when we travel back to the road, it’s a bit easier for you. Take a drink,” he instructed.

You took the whiskey when he held it out to you from behind, lifting it to your lips and taking a long swig. The drink burned on the way down and you winced, shuddering slightly, and Dean chuckled. You felt it against your back when his chest rumbled with laughter. Relief flooded you when the realization hit you that things would be okay now. Sam and Dean were here—you weren’t alone.

Dean rubbed his hand over the thigh on your good leg and you leaned back against him a little more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. You closed your eyes, wincing and grunting as Sam adjusted the split. Dean’s other hand found yours and you squeezed it hard.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. Keep talking?”

“We hadn’t heard from you, so we came looking.”

“In the—” You hissed in pain, your whole body tensing and your hand squeezing Dean’s even harder as Sam profusely apologized from where he bent over your injured leg. “In the middle of a blizzard?”

“It’s not so bad now,” Dean said. His voice was soft and low in your ear, and he paused to kiss the side of your head. “We borrowed some snowmobiles from the ranger station a few miles away. I’m surprised none of them came out here to check the cabins.”

You hummed, trying to focus on his voice and the warmth of the whiskey instead of the pain coursing through your body. The painkillers would be kicking in soon, but until then, you had to ignore the churning of your stomach and the pain trying to push you back into unconsciousness.

“I missed you so much. I was worried about you, and it’s Christmas Eve. We didn’t want to celebrate without you.”

If it was Christmas Eve, you’d been lying on the floor of the cabin for almost a full day. There was no light coming in from the windows of the living room; you’d been so out of it that you hadn’t even realized when the sun had been up, unless the snow from the storm had blocked it out entirely.

“It would’ve been okay,” you groaned. “We would’ve celebrated later.”

Reaching one arm around you, Dean pulled you back against him, holding you down as your reflexes tried to move you away from Sam as he worked. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as your back arched against the pain.

“No, it wouldn’t have. Last year was our first Christmas together, but we got held up with that Crowley thing, so I didn’t get to celebrate properly with you. I wanted to be with you this year. I wasn’t gonna let a little snow stop me,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of a groan slipping through as you grit your teeth together and tried to stay still. “A little snow, huh?”

“A little snow,” Dean repeated, chuckling. “He’s almost done, sweetheart, and then we’re gonna get out of here.”

Sam spoke up as he tightened the split, and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“We can’t leave now, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean shifted behind you. “Y/N needs to rest and hydrate. She probably needs to eat something, too.”

Your stomach churned again and you swallowed down the bile. “Don’t talk about food. Please.”

As Sam worked, Dean continued to comfort you and hold you, until finally, they would be able to move you. The painkillers had kicked in and once they moved you to the queen-sized bed in the only bedroom, you were able to relax for the first time in days. You refused the crackers when your stomach flipped at the sight of them, but Dean left them within reach of your spot on the mattress in case you woke up hungry.

Sam stoked the small fireplace opposite the bed while Dean arranged the blankets and pillows for you, and as he moved, you caught a glimpse of the time on his watch.

“Dean,” you said, grabbing his hand as it moved past. “Dean, hey.”

He paused, looking down at you. When he saw you smiling at him, he chuckled and smiled back, then took his other hand to brush the hair off your sweaty forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. “I’m good. Those painkillers really helped,” you told him, laughing a little. He laughed again and carefully took a knee beside the bed so he was closer to eye level with you. “But guess what?”

“Are you going to say chicken butt again?” he asked, and you grinned a little wider.

“No. Merry Christmas.”

A little v-shaped wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he lifted his other hand to check his watch, and then he smiled again.

“12:03,” he read aloud. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Drowsiness was creeping up on you, aided by the warmth of the blankets and the fire, and Dean seemed to sense it. He reached out again and ran a hand over your hair. His expression softened and the firelight made his eyes sparkle a little.

At some point, Sam had left the room, so when Dean leaned in to kiss you, you reached up to keep him close. Compared to other kisses, it didn’t even rank in terms of intensity, but you knew you’d remember this one for a long time. He braced one hand on the mattress and lifted himself up to lean just slightly over you, and you shifted to the side to kiss him better. His other hand slid up from your cheek to tangle into your hand for just a moment before he pulled away. You kept him close, one hand gripping the slightly damp fabric of his jacket. After a moment, you opened your eyes, but you had to blink a few times to focus on his face.

Dean smiled, chuckling slightly before pressing a second kiss to your forehead. “I love you. Get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a few hours,” he murmured.

You whined and gripped his jacket a little tighter. “No, stay.”

He pried your fingers from the lapel. “Sam and I have a couple things to take care of. I promise I’ll be back.”

Nodding, you relaxed back against the pillows and released him fully. You kept smiling even as he exited the room, then closed your eyes. It felt like only moments had passed when you opened them again, but sunlight was peeking through from behind the curtains. The fire still crackled, though the stack of logs beside it had gone down, meaning that Dean had kept his promise to check on you throughout the night.

Groaning, you shifted yourself to sit up a little bit more in the bed. “Dean?” you called. “Sam?”

Silence answered you and panic fluttered in your chest for a brief moment. You were about to call again when the door swung open and Dean stepped inside, smiling. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” he asked.

You smiled a little, still fighting against sleep, and yawned. “Still not great, but better than before. Are we going home today?”

He nodded and came toward the bed. “Hospital first, then home, but uh… There’s something else we have to do first.”

Smile fading, you helped Dean move the blankets off your legs, then accepted the water bottle and pills he’d set out on the bedside table while you’d been asleep.

“Is everything okay? Was there another disappearance?”

His eyes grew wide and he carefully pushed you down by the shoulder when you started to sit up even further. “No. Hey, no. Everything’s fine, Y/N. You got it. It’s dead. Relax for a second.”

“Then what do we have to do?”

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam knocked and stuck his head in the door. “She ready?” he asked. When Dean nodded, Sam opened the door the rest of the way and held out a pair of crutches.

You propped yourself up on both hands, looking between them with a smile. “Where did you even find those?”

They handed them off to you and Dean helped you carefully pivot on the bed, then stand, using the crutches to support your weight. Sam had fixed the splint well enough that you were able to follow the two of them out into the living room of the cabin.

“What— What is all this?”

An evergreen tree had been propped up in one corner. Pinecones and balls of tinfoil had been used in place of ornaments and there were stockings hung on the mantle of the fireplace. The fire crackled, warming the entire room and from where you stood, you could spy three bowls of soup and mugs of hot chocolate set out on the coffee table you’d originally shoved out of the way.

You laughed, at a loss for words. “What—? How?”

Dean led you over to the couch and helped you settle in the middle, smiling wide. “We brought the stockings and the presents—”

“The presents?” you asked, gaping at him.

Sam laughed and set a few wrapped packages beside you. You glanced at them, looked up at him, and then over at Dean again.

“The soup and hot chocolate was in your bag and the dishes were in the cabinets,” Sam explained. “The crutches were part of an emergency kit loaded onto the snowmobiles. They’re collapsible ones, but they’re better than that stick you had when we showed up.”

The couch dipped as Dean sat on the other side of you, and the packages slid down against your leg. He set his hand on your thigh, smiling.

“I know it’s not a real Christmas with lights and a fancy dinner, but I was thinking that it was better than nothing,”

Smiling, you reached up to cup his face with one hand, keeping his gaze on you. “It’s perfect,” you told him. “I love it.”

You kissed him, just as gently as the night before, and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He squeezed your thigh in return.

Thank you for reading! <3

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