I gotcha
Genre; Hurt/Comfort, the Fluffiest Fluff
Word Count; 1.0k
Warnings; Nothing I can think of, just reader feeling a bit unsteady and getting hugs and care from Dean.
Pairings; Dean Winchester x Reader
It's me, I'm alive! I've finally started watching Supernatural and I just. Love Dean so much. So, have some fluff and comfort!
Masterlist
You leaned back against a heavy oak table, a warm mug slowly cooling to your side. You felt a little unsteady within your mind, an uncomfortable feeling having settled in your stomach. There was no particular reason for it so far as you could tell. Nothing had happened, nothing was wrong (the latest world-ending crisis notwithstanding). You had been trying to talk yourself out of it for a while by this point, to explain away the feeling through rationalisation, but none of it was working. The length of time you had been hovering around the table was evidence enough of that.
With a sigh, you drummed your fingertips against the tabletop then pushed yourself to standing. You took a few steps to take a pointless glance out of the nearest window then turned to eye your mug. Finally, you decided you would have to do something other than just keep standing there. Maybe getting out of your head would be the best thing for you, you thought humourlessly. It was at that exact moment that a sudden flurry of activity arrived at the door. Dean and Sam bundled inside, one slamming the door shut whilst the other knocked into a table. Such an exaggerated groan of pain issued forth that you couldn’t help but smirk in spite of yourself.
The door from the hallway to the kitchen swung open as Sam made a beeline for the fridge. Dean followed, dropping a heavy duffle bag to the floor with a thud and swiping a beer from his brother’s hand as he straightened, completely unsuspecting. Dean flashed him a grin as he began complaining, hands spread in a gesture of come on.
“Sorry, Sammy. Too slow.” He appeared at the doorway to the room you had been deliberating in for you didn’t even know how long, his other hand poised to twist the cap off the beer bottle. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, smile bleeding into his rich voice. Sam raised a hand in greeting behind his brother’s head, then announced he was heading off to watch the television.
“Hey, Dean.”
You felt a content warmth in your stomach at the sight of him, no matter how long you’d known each other. You walked straight over and slotted yourself beneath his outstretched arm, looping your arms around his waist and pressing your face to his chest. You felt rather than heard the chuckle rumble through him as he pressed his hand to the back of your neck and head, his other arm moving around your waist to hold you close. You raised your head when he pressed a gentle thumb beneath your jaw, leaning down to leave a lingering kiss against your lips.
The entire world seemed to fall away as you stared into his eyes, pressing yourself flat against him to get as close as you possibly could. When you finally looked away, it was to nose along the edge of his open flannel shirt, taking in great lungfuls of his familiar scent. His eyebrows drew a little closer together at your actions, knowing they usually meant something was wrong. Dean put his beer down on the nearest available surface so that he could wrap his arms around you properly. A great feeling of pride bloomed in his chest at the long, content sigh you gave as he pressed his arms against your lower back and over your shoulders. His lips found their way to the top of your head and your eyes closed at the feeling of his breath moving your hair.
Dean, infamous for making himself tough in a way that forbade him from talking about his feelings, understood your every unspoken word clearly. He began to relinquish his tight hold on you, the one he knew made you feel safe and secure, in favour of running his palms along your back. One eventually traced a path across your collarbone and up to the side of your face, gently cupping your cheek to encourage you to look up and meet his soft gaze.
“Anything you wanna tell me about?” It was asked in such a way that there was no pressure, no judgement. If he had thought you were hurt or in danger it would have been a different story, but he could clearly see you weren’t. You shook your head with a small smile and he ran his thumb over your cheekbone, his expression fond if not still slightly tinged with concern. He pushed that away though, for your sake, hoping you would find some strength in seeing his own. Suddenly sporting a wide grin, he reached down to hook his hands around the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, brightened by your own grin as your automatically wound your legs around his hips.
“What are you doing?!” You got out through your laughter, only for him to lightly swat your leg.
“No questions!” He whisper-yelled, but he was laughing too. In retaliation, he grabbed your by your ribs and threw you up over his shoulder, holding you there easily with an arm around your waist. You had no choice but to hang there, his shoulder digging into your stomach until he finally dropped your down onto your back. You found yourself on Dean’s bed where he soon joined you, laying on his back and pulling you towards him. You ended up half draped over him, propping yourself up on an elbow for a moment to give him a gentle kiss. He gave you a boyish grin as you remained there for a moment, before laying down on top of him.
Dean’s hands resumed their gentle tracing over your back, his head leaning against your own. Your incessant worrying had abated entirely, your mind blissfully calm and filled only with Dean. You placed a hand against his ribs, relaxing into the steady rise and fall of his chest, the regular beating of his heart.
“Just stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low and soft. “I gotcha.”
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Supernatural:
Writers: "Gay? Who's gay...?"
Fans: The characters you wrote... with a queer love story and clearly homoerotic subtext.
"No... you guys are delusional. Stop making everything gay."
.... *10 Years Later* ....
"Here's a love confession!"
THANK YOU WOW! What's next??? Will they finally date?
The writers:
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Imagine Sam and Dean arguing about who gets to stay with you.
You've known them for, maybe, six hours. Five of which you spent believing they were FBI agents, so, to be exact, you've known the Winchester brothers for an hour.
Their expressions were visibly grim, troubled, when they left the living room to discuss something in the kitchen. No matter how much you strained your neck, you couldn't see or hear them. You could, of course, get up from the couch where you were curled up but the knowledge of your house being legitimately haunted rendered you completely immobile. Without the supposed specialists in your sight, you were listening to the sounds of the house - each creak and squeak making you more nervous.
Dean looked out of the kitchen for a moment, letting his gaze glide along your anxious figure. He got lost in his observation and only Sam slapping his shoulder brought Dean back to reality. Sam seemed in disbelief at his brother's selective attention span.
"Can you focus for like three minutes, man?"
In an attempt to recover from being caught red-handed, Dean cleared his throat but the playful smile simply wouldn't leave his face as he spoke:
"One of us goes to the basement and plays ludo with Casper, and the other stays with the hot girl."
Sam scoffed at his brother's words. He slightly shook his head before answering.
"You know, Dean, we're adults. We shouldn't be arguing about this kind of thing."
For a moment, they were eyeing each other, waiting for someone's move. Without looking away, both of them slowly raised one of their fists, clearly preparing for a definite settlement of their issue.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot," they whispered simultaneously.
Sam clenched his jaw seeing the obvious result: 1-0 for Dean. The older brother chuckled in satisfaction.
"Best out of three," the younger one demanded. He wasn't going to give up that easily.
"You're on, goldilocks."
The atmosphere inside the kitchen was tense. Should either of them try cheating, a simple game would quickly become petty fisticuffs.
Unaware of their bizarre method of settling issues, you were wondering what discussion or disagreement was taking them so much time to solve.
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“Such a lonely day should be banned/It’s a day that I can’t stand”
“Such a lonely day and it’s mine…
……the loneliest day of my life”
————————🔥————————
The song is Lonely Day by System of the Down which I’m sure most of you know lol.
*Feel free to use my work in whatever, as long as you properly credit me as the original artist*
*Reblogs and likes are appreciated but not mandatory ❤️*
Side Note-
I know this piece took forever and a half but it’s done, finished, caputsi, finito, etc etc etc. And it looks pretty cool if I do say so myself lol. And I have a piece for next week done as well soooo look out for that 👀
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