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my-proof-is-you · 1 year

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If It Kills Me - Part 1

Dean x Reader

The lyrics will tell you all you need to know.

Link to my favorite version. Please listen to it. If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz

*Pics and gifs are not mine

Masterlist

Hello, tell me you know

Yeah, you figured me out

Something gave it away

And it would be such a beautiful moment

To see the look on your face

To know that I know that you know now

And baby that's a case of my wishful thinking

You know nothing

Cause you and I

Why, we go carrying on for hours, on and

We get along much better

Than you and your boyfriend

You

“Shut up, Dean,” you said, doing your best to hide your smile.

“I’m just sayin,’ the guy’s got gorilla arms!” Dean replied, holding his hands up with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes. It was funny, you had to admit. But making fun of your boyfriend’s slightly hairy arms was not something you felt you should indulge Dean in.

“Whatever,” you said, heading to the fridge for another beer. You bent over to grab one from the lower shelf, asking Dean if he wanted another, too. You looked over your shoulder when he didn’t answer.

“Hey!” you yelled, snapping him out of his stare. He’d been checking out your ass. “Come on, dude!”

He shook his head, chuckling. “What?” he asked with feigned innocence. “I’m your best friend—not dead.”

You rolled your eyes again, tossing him a beer. “Keep it up and I’ll revoke that title,” you replied, screwing the lid off of your own.

“Sure, Y/N/N,” he replied, lifting the neck of his bottle to clink yours.

You stayed in the bunker’s kitchen for hours, laughing and talking about nothing and everything. It was always like this with Dean. The two of you got along easily and had ever since you’d met years earlier on a vampire hunt.

You sighed, feeling buzzed from the beers and getting tired. “Ready to call it a night?”

Dean

“Ready to call it a night?”

“Yeah, we better,” he responded. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He started to turn toward the hall to the bedrooms when he felt your hand grasp his wrist.

“Dean, wait,” you said, halting his steps. He turned to face you, fully unprepared for the look you were giving him. Your eyes were wide and sparkling; your cheeks had a beautifully rosy blush; and your teeth were biting into your lip. He felt a pang of desire shoot down to his core.

“Y/N?” he asked, unsure what was going on. He was too scared to hope your face meant what he thought it meant.

“Dean…I know how you feel about me. I’ve always known.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N? You’re my best friend,” he replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Don’t lie, Dean,” you said, stepping forward. You placed his hand on your waist and used the other to reach up, gently brushing your knuckles across his cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling.

“And the truth is…I love you, too. I always have.”

Dean opened his eyes, focusing them on your lips as you leaned in close, your hands weaving themselves behind his neck. You were so close he could feel the heat from your face and he closed his eyes, ready to do what he’d only dreamed of for so long.

“Dean? Did you hear me?”

Dean shook his head a little, his little fantasy clearing to reveal you still across the table from him.

Wishful thinking.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Let’s hit the hay,” he replied finally. He stood up, chastising himself for letting his mind go to a place he knew he’d never see.

You

“Fuck!” you yelled, throwing your phone onto your bed. You’d had a fight with your boyfriend, Cody, again.

The two of you fought fairly often. You chalked it up to the stress of hunting.

It didn’t help that you lived with two men who weren’t your boyfriend, though.

But the Winchesters were your family. They were there for you when no one else was. It’s not like you could up and leave for a guy you’d been dating for six months.

“Cody?” you heard from the door to your room. You turned around to see Sam, who had been passing by and no doubt heard your exclaimed expletive.

“Yeah,” you said, sighing and sitting on the edge of your bed. Sam walked his impossibly tall frame through the door, sitting down next to you. He bumped his shoulder into yours.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked sweetly. Sam was your best friend, too. It was just a little different than the relationship you had with Dean. Sam was great at talking about emotions and serious topics - not that Dean couldn’t handle that, too. But Sam was a little more sensitive.

“It’s okay,” you said with a half-smile. “I think I’m gonna let him cool off for a bit.”

Sam nodded. “Wanna come hang with me in the library?”

“I’ll be out in a bit. I think I need to cool off a bit, too. Thanks, Sammy,” you replied, giving him a little nudge with your own shoulder.

He smiled and left, leaving your door open just a crack. You laid back, staring at the old ceiling above your bed.

This was why you’d never dated much. Dating as a hunter was so damn hard.

Dating another hunter was even harder.

The two of you had separate lives before you got together. You had two separate ways of doing things. Two very independent lives that didn’t leave much room for caring about someone that way.

You had the boys, of course. But it was different with Sam and Dean. You knew they saw you as a sister and while they’d do anything for you, there was a different level of passion that came from loving someone.

Loving someone. You weren’t even sure if what you felt for Cody was love.

He was a great guy, really. You’d met him at a known hunter’s bar six months back and had a night of fun. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again.

You did, though, the next day. He was hunting the same thing you were and the rest was history.

You didn’t often go on hunts alone anymore. You only went alone because you tried to give Sam and Dean some time to themselves every once in a while. It felt only fair, especially since you felt like you cramped their style with women when you were around.

You ran a hand down your face in frustration, sitting up again. You hated when you fought with Cody, obviously. But you really hated being in a bad mood because of it. It was like having a bad taste in your mouth you couldn’t get rid of.

I know what’ll make me feel better, you thought. You walked out of your room and down the hall to the kitchen.

“Hey, De—“ you began, but stopped when you saw two things that made you very happy.

The first was a pint of cookies and cream ice cream with a spoon sticking out of it.

The second was Dean Winchester, looking up at you with a smile from his seat at the table. He held a spoon of his own, licking it clean.

“Sit,” he said, nodding to the seat across from him.

You sighed, doing as he instructed. He turned his hand so it was facing up as it rested on the table. You placed yours in his, finally feeling the need to hold back tears.

“Y/N/N,” Dean said, noticing your watery eyes. He squeezed your hand. “I don’t know what you fought about this time, but I just want to say…”

“Yes?” you said, waiting for him to continue.

“If he doesn’t appreciate what he has, he’s crazy. Don’t let him make you feel bad for living your life.” He had set his jaw, and you knew he meant it.

“Thanks, Dean. It’s not all on him, though. It’s me, too. Maybe I’m just being selfish.”

“Sweetheart, I never want to hear you say that again. You are the least selfish person I know. How many times have you put Sammy and I before yourself? How many times have you sacrificed for the greater good?” he asked, almost getting visibly upset.

You nodded, biting your lip. You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you also were just feeling bad about things in general in that moment.

“Let’s eat,” you said, digging your spoon into the pint. Dean sighed, but let the topic go. For now, at least.

Part 2

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14 @divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @satans-0-spawn @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27 @sexyvixen7 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @lyarr24 @amelia-song-pond @flashxspn @donnaintx @spnbaby-67 @traceyaudette @gh0stgurl @fiftyshadesgrl @tapedeck-hearts @lacilou

Deanies/Jensen:

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @weepingwillowphoenix @playingdeep17 @justanotherwinchester @flamencodiva @caligraphee @jxackles @kalesrebellion @heavensangel45135 @screechingartisancashbailiff @miufel @lovely-lynns-likes @smokinserious @notan-applepielife @screechingartisancashbailiff @squirrelnotsam @mother-dearest-loves-me @mrspeacem1nusone @allonsy-yesiwill @jensenackels512 @deandreamernp @siospins2 @thoughts-and-funnies @440mxs-wife @deandreamernp @love-yourself-first-tfw @siospins2 @bicowboywuvhugz

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daisywrites101 · 2 years

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Some People Need Saving

Request: "Hello, I just saw that your requests are open & I have an idea for a Dean x Reader (angst/fluff). Dean and her are friends for some years but they havent told each other about their true feelings. One night the Winchesters get a call from Garth who tells them that him and Y/N were hunting werewolves and she got carried away. Garth tried to get her out but he is in desperate need for the brothers to come and get Y/N free again.

Hope you can make something out of it

XXC." - @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Spacer Credit: @holylulusworld

I had to refresh my brain on how werewolves work, but hey I did it! I really hope that I got what you were looking for! I do apologize for how long this one is, and for how long this took to put out. My requests are currently open, so you guys can shoot me a message if you have a request! Also, I really would appreciate feedback! Thank you guys! -Daisy

"Look, Dean. I'm sure that Y/n is just fine. They're with Garth. He will protect them." Sam tells Dean, trying to calm him down. "Yeah and he is probably doing other things with them." Dean mumbles. Sam just glares at him and continues to do research, trying to find another case. Dean has had a thing for you since he met you, which was a few years ago on a hunt. Bobby had suggested that the boys bring backup on a vamp hunt and Bobby suggested you. The vamp nest was huge and you saved both of their asses.

Dean drinks the rest of his beer then gets up. "I'm heading to bed." he says, but as he is walking away his phone rings. He looks to see that it is in fact Garth calling him. He answers it, "Hey, Garth. What's up?" Garth sounds frantic, saying, "Y/N just got taken by the werewolf we were hunting!" Dean's blood becomes cold as fear creeps up on him. "Garth, do you know where?" Dean asks. "I'll send you the directions. I've already tried going after her but I failed. The damn thing scratched me up." Garth replies. "Sam and I will go find her. You hang tight and take care of yourself." Dean says then hangs up, feeling as though he has already wasted enough time. "Sam we need to hit the road now. Y/N was taken by the werewolf they were hunting. Garth got hurt in the process of trying to save them." Dean says loading his pistol with silver bullets. Sam gets up and grabs a silver knife. "Let's go save her. The brothers then head out to the Impala. Dean's phone buzzes with a message from Garth with the directions.

The boys pull up to an abandoned shack in the woods. "Are you sure this is right, Dean?" Sam questions. "Garth sent me the wrong thing if it is." Dean answers. They both get out of the car, after Dean kills the engine. Dean pulls his gun out of his pocket and begins to walk towards the shack, Sam not far behind.

Dean turns the knob on the door and it opens. The brothers both walk inside. The shack is pretty run down, seeming like it has not been touched in years. Dean walks though the main part of the small shack and down a hallway. There is a door at the end of the hall, and Dean goes straight for it, with Sam trailing behind. Dean slowly opens the door and that is when he sees you, unconscious, and bound to a chair by rope with all sorts of scratches adorning your body. He rushes to you and begins to untie your bounds, and that is when Sam calls out for him. Dean quickly turns around and sees Sam on the ground, pinned by the werewolf.

The beast is trying to bite Sam, but he is holding it away from him. Dean, being powered by adrenaline, shoots the wolf in the chest and is whines in pain then falls over, dead. Dean finishes untying you from the chair as Sam get up off of the floor. Dean tosses Sam the keys. "Go get Baby started." He grunts as he stands up an gently picks you up. Sam sprinted out of the door and started the Impala, and Dean comes out of the shack holding your limp body in his arms. "Dean, we need to take them to the hospital, their injuries are to bad to just fix at the bunker." Sam explains as Dean places you gently in the backseat. He quickly sits next to you and shuts the door. "then let's get the hell out of here." Sam speeds off like a mad man.

It has been three and a half hours since Dean rushed you into the ER and the doctors took him away from you. Sam had fallen asleep about an hour ago, but Dean has kept himself awake with the help of coffee and pacing. A nurse walks up to him, tells him that you are stable, and what room you were in. Dean practically sprinted to your room, needing to see you and make sure that you are okay. He opens the door and walks inside. The sight that he saw before him was not nearly as bad as he thought you would have been. You have some bandages resting on your cheek and between your brow line and temple. Your eyes are closed, so you are clearly getting some rest. Your arms are sticking out of the white blanket that surrounds the rest of your body. There is an IV in one of the creases of your arm giving you fluids, and there are some stitches on your other hand running from your thumb down to the middle of your forearm. Dean almost stumbles over his own feet as he walks over to you. Every memory of the two of you flooded his mind when he sat in that chair next to your bed.

His favorite one is where the two of you were having a movie night. The both of you had a few beers, and decided to watch a scary movie, per Dean's request. The two of you were sitting pretty close together. A sudden jumpscare causes you to jump and hide your face into Dean's chest. He holds onto you tightly.

A small grin appears on his face at the memory, but all at the same time, tears fills his eyes. "You really scared me sweetheart." He takes your hand into his, and he gently rubs his thumb over the top of your hand. "I thought I lost you for a second there." He sniffs. "And honestly I don't think I could live my life without you. I know that we have been friends for, well for forever." He looks at your face. Your eyes remain closed as your breathe through your nose. "I love you, Y/N." Dean admits, then stands up and kisses your forehead. He goes to lay down on the small couch in your room.

"I love you too, you dork." You say hoarsely. Dean whips his head to face you, and sees you awake. "Are you just going to stand there, De?" You ask. Dean comes over to you and hugs you gently, not wanting to hurt you. He pulls away from you and cups your cheek with his hand. "Can I kiss you?" Dean asks, looking into your eyes. You nod your head and his lips gently press against yours in a loving kiss. "You know you could have woke me up before coming to see her." Sam says, which causes the two of you to break the kiss. "You could have knocked, Sammy." Dean says looking over at him. You giggled a little at the boys. "I'll go get some coffee." Sam says then walks away. Dean looks back at you. "Now where were we?" Dean asks with his eyes staring into yours. This time, you lean up and kiss him. The two of you pull away for air. "I love you, Dean" You say to him. "I love you too, sweetheart."

#flangst #friends to lovers #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you

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waywardnerd67 · 2 years

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Her Hero

Title: Her Hero Summary: Dean Winchester’s life has been flipped upside down since (Y/N) literally fell into his life. Now they build a life together only for fate to have a cruel sense of humor. Main Characters: Dean Winchester, Reaper!Reader Other Characters: Sam Winchester Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reaper!Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Angst (with a hint of Fluff) Word Count: 2178 A/N: “Fare Thee Well” - Louden Swain (I know this isn’t technically a LS song, but go with it)

Check Out Part One: His Reaper

Three loud knocks came from the iron door. Sam was in the kitchen cooking dinner as Dean cautiously went up to the door. Opening it slowly, he was surprised to see (Y/N) leaning against the frame.

“D-Dean…”

He watched her eyes roll back and flutter close before falling forward towards him, “Sam! Help!”

Catching her, he scooped her up bridal style and carried her down the stairs. Sam came running out from the kitchen, his eyes widened seeing the woman in his arms. Dean carried her to the infirmary carefully laying her on one of the beds.

“Call Cas.” He said to his brother.

“Who is she?”

“Call him now, Sam!” Dean snapped at him, “I’m sorry. Please, call Cas and then I’ll explain everything.”

Sam walked out of the infirmary making the call. Dean stared down at her not believing she was in front of him. He was starting to check over her body to make sure there were no injuries that needed to be patched up when Sam came back in.

He stood at the end of the bed, “I get the feeling you know her.”

It was not a question but he answered anyway, “Yes, she is… or was a reaper. My reaper.”

“Y-Your what? A reaper!” Sam leaned his hands down on the frame of the bed, “What’s she doing here and how can we see her?”

“Don’t you think if I knew that I would tell you. The last time I saw her was after Michael left me for dead. It wasn’t the first time I had seen her but it was different. She was supposed to take my soul but couldn’t.”

Sam looked up at him, “Couldn’t?”

Dean sat on the side of the bed, “Wouldn’t is more like it. She sent me back saying the world needed me, needed us in the world to save it.”

“Sam, Dean…”

They turned to see Castiel standing in the doorway with Jack behind him. His blue eyes immediately focused on (Y/N) lying on the bed.

“What happened to (Y/N)? What is she doing here?”

“We were hoping you might know.” Sam said, pointing down at her, “She showed up at our door and passed out before she could explain. Why would a reaper reveal themselves?”

He walked up to the side of the bed where Dean was sitting, “I’m sure she is alright.” His friend placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Keeping his hand on his shoulder, he watched as Cas placed his other hand on (Y/N) forehead. Suddenly, he felt like he was being sucked into a tornado before coming out the other side standing in Death’s reading room. He saw (Y/N) standing in front of Death’s desk.

“Yes ma’am however what does that have to do with Dean Winchester and I being his reaper?” She asked.

A genuine smile appeared on Death’s face surprising Dean. He was accustomed to the stoic, stone face, rule following Death.

“Your role in Dean Winchester’s life is much more than being his reaper now. You belong at his side and I’m going to make that so. (Y/N), it is important for this world and universe that you are still the one who will know when it is Dean’s time to go. I’m sorry for putting this burden on you but when the time comes, you will be the one who knows when it is time to let him go.”

Dean felt his eyes were mirroring (Y/N)’s at the moment. She still had some of her reaper powers while laying in a bed on Earth. He felt a tug on his heart pulling him towards her.

“Why me?” (Y/N) asked, staring up at Death.

“You’re important just as the Winchesters are important to this world.” She answered then snapped her fingers.

Dean opened his eyes to see (Y/N) staring up at him from the bed. She looked around wildly before sitting up.

“W-What happened?”

He took her hand in his, “You showed up at the Bunker and fell into my arms. What do you remember?”

“Being in Death’s reading room. Talking with her and then I was in a field near here.” There was a low rumble that came from her stomach, “What was that?”

Cas smiled, “I believe you are experiencing hunger right now.”

Dean chuckled as one of her eyebrows arched perfectly, “Reapers don’t get hungry. Why am I hungry, Castiel?”

“Sammy, why don’t we go make up some lunch.” Dean went to stand up when (Y/N) tightened her grip on his hand.

Her beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes pleaded with him to stay. He turned towards his brother who nodded.

“I’ll go make some lunch.” He walked towards the door where Jack was, “Come on, you can help me.”

Once Sam and Jack were gone, he turned his attention back to (Y/N) who seemed to relax a little knowing he was not leaving. Cas placed his hand on her forehead again, his eyes glowing blue. He was not prepared to see her eyes glowing as well.

“Interesting.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as Cas took a step back from her, “What did you see?”

“You still have some of your reaper powers but they are limited. Like a single layer of lasagna.”

Dean tried to keep from laughing out loud as (Y/N) narrowed her eyes on Cas, “I don’t understand that reference.”

The room filled with laughter as Dean could no longer hold it in, “I think all he means is you’re more human than reaper now.”

“Human? Why… Why would Death make me human?”

“I don’t know. Until we find out, we’ll take care of you.” Dean brought his hand up to her cheek, “I promise, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

She leaned into his touch smiling, “I’m not worried about me. Who is going to take care of you now that I’m human.”

A chuckle came from Cas as Dean rolled his eyes, “Shut up Cas.”

From that moment, life for Dean and (Y/N) was changed forever. Over the next several years, their bond grew into something more and for the first time in his life he found true happiness. The blending of domestic bliss with the family business. Together with Sam, Cas and Jack they had defeated Death when she went on a power trip. Finding comfort in one another when they had lost Castiel. Then put Chuck in his place when he spiraled out of control and Jack took on the role of a higher deity.

There were a lot of close calls that (Y/N) was confident he would make it out of. When they heard of a case involving a group of vamps kidnapping kids, Dean felt it would be a milk run for them. Paying no mind to the fact that (Y/N) felt uneasy about them going into the rundown barn. Finding the two boys, (Y/N) took them to safety as him and Sam finished off the vamps.

Radiating pain shot through his chest as the large vamp pinned him to the wooden beam. He watched as Sam finished the vamp off and the pain throbbed as he hung there. Bringing his shaky hand up to his chest, he found something piercing through it and waves of nausea washed over him. The adrenaline rushing through his veins was slowing and the darkness began to surround his vision.

Sam stood in front of him, “Alright. Um… Hold on. Okay. Uh, I got you.” He tried to move him, kick starting his adrenaline once more.

“No, no, no, no, no. Don't... Don't... Don't move me. Don't move me. It feels like this thing's holding me together right now. Just give me… Just give me a minute.”

He looked around to see if (Y/N) had returned and she had not. He needed her here to know he would make it if they did pull him off this beam.

His brother’s panicked eyes looked away from him, “Yeah. Um... alright. I'll call for help. I'll get the first-aid kit.” Sam takes out his phone, starting to walk away.

“Sam, Sam! Sam… Stay wi…” He stopped talking, seeing (Y/N) slowly walk inside the barn again.

Her eyes were red and puffy as tears continued to fall down her face, “Dean, it’s time.”

What little air was left in his lung escaped upon hearing those words. Sam turned towards her, Dean could see his hands trembling.

“No. Don’t say that. Not like this” Sam turned back towards him.

“You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right?” He looked to (Y/N) whose eyes were downcast, “I mean, look at us. Saving people, hunting things… It's what we do.”

Sam shook his head stubbornly, “(Y/N) do something! You’re his reaper, so do something!”

“Sammy, there’s nothing to be done. Look, I'm fading pretty… I'm fading pretty quick, so... there's a few things that I need you to hear. Come here.”

Sam moves closer to him as he places his hand on the side of Sam's neck, “Let me look at you. Yeah, there he is. I'm so proud of you, Sam.”

He hated seeing his brother cry, but he could feel the darkness creeping over him quickly, “It was always you and me. It's always been you... and me.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, “Then don't leave me. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.”

“Yes, you can.” He smiled, knowing if there was anyone in this world strong enough to make it, it was Sam.

“Well, I don't want to.”

A fleeting memory of standing outside his apartment at Stanford flashed in Dean’s mind. Those very words coming from his lips knowing the search for dad was something he could not do without his brother.

“Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you…” Dean felt the tears slipping down his face as he placed his fist over Sam's heart, “Right here... every day. Every day you're out there and you're Li... And you're living and you're fighting, 'cause you… You always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there every step. I love you so much. My baby brother.”

He looked past Sam to (Y/N) who had now walked up beside him, “That goes for you too, pretty girl. You keep fighting and you two take care of each other.”

Dean tried to take a deep breath as his chest burned and blackness flashed over his eyes, “I need you to... I need you to promise me. I need you to… To... to tell me... that it's okay. I need you to tell me that it's okay.”

Sam looks away, shaking his head, crying, “No.”

“Sam…” (Y/N) whispered.

“No… I-I can’t…”

Dean cupped his baby brother’s face, “Look at me. Look at me. I need... I need… I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need you to tell me… Tell me it's okay.” He looked to (Y/N) pleading silently to her.

Dean placed his hand on his chest as Sam and (Y/N) placed theirs over his, “Dean… it's okay. You can go now.”

He looked over to (Y/N) with a soft smile, “I’ll see you later, pretty girl. I love you.”

“I love you more, Dean Winchester.”

Dean leaned forward resting his forward against Sam’s closing his eyes, “Goodbye, Sam.”

“Goodbye.”

His brother’s whisper was the last thing he heard as darkness consumed him and he greeted the afterlife with peace.

***

(Y/N) gently held Dean’s body while Sam went to get something to wrap him up in. The peace she saw as Dean’s soul left for heaven brought her little peace as she wrestled with her own feelings. As a reaper, she was not supposed to have emotions for the souls she reaped. She was not only a reaper now. She was a woman who took the soul of the man she loved, the soul that mirrored her own, the one who saved her.

She began to sing, as she ran her fingers down the side of his face.

“Well, I had a man, strong and tall He moved his body like a cannonball Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well I remember one evening in the pouring rain And in my heart was an aching pain Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well”

A sob escaped her lips as the barn door opened and she continued to sing.

“So as show us a bird flying high above Life ain't worth living without the one you love Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well”

Sam’s hand squeezed her shoulder, looking up at him, “H-How am I supposed to live now without him?”

Sam pulled her into his side as they both looked down at the man they both considered their hero, “We carry on, like he wanted us too.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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Taglist: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @destiel745 @carribear31 @whimsicalrobots @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @imascio08 @mannls @time-travel-bouqet @myinconnelly1 @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @stoneyggirl @mimaria420 @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @stixnstripesworld @sexyvixen7 @samsgirl93 @perpetualabsurdity @deanwanddamons @smoothdogsgirl @lyarr24 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @dnnwnchstr22 @nancymcl @siospins2

#waywardnerd67fics #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader insert #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #angst #flangst

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thirdsaltyhunter · 6 months

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Fight for Love

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Summary: a fight between you and Dean leads to some unintended truth slipping out, maybe that's not a bad thing

Warning: flangst, arguing, self hate, implied smut, set in season 9(spoilers)

A/N: Not proofread all mistakes are my own.

You and Dean had been screaming at each other for a good 10 minutes now. It had gotten to the point where Sam had given up trying to be the mediator and snuck away to the library, to let you fight it out in the map room.

This argument had started when you found out Dean had taken on the Mark of Cain and to make it worse, he had hidden it from you for over a week. After you saw it on his arm and started asking questions, he tried to brush you off like it wasn't a big deal. Your anger had flared, but what you wouldn't admit, was that that anger, was fueled by fear and concern for your friend.

You had been friends with the boys for years and fought by their side. It wasn't long after getting to know them, that you started to develop feelings for the older Winchester, despite your best efforts at keeping your heart in check. At this point, those feeling had developed into being hopelessly in love with him. You wouldn't say anything though; you knew your feelings were unrequited.

"Do you know how bad of an idea that was Dean, we know literally nothing about what that mark could do to you.", you yelled as he paced back and forth on the other side of the map table.

"We had no other option Y/N, what was I supposed to do?"

"We could've figured out a plan that didn't involve you getting a murderous tramp-stamp."

"Well it's too late now isn't it.", he was practically fuming now.

"Ok, then we'll get it off!", your yelling was elevated by the frustration and anxiety that was coursing through your veins.

"And why the fuck do you even care?", he yelled, leaning forward. He seemed so close to you despite still being across the table.

At his question, it was like something snapped inside you at his audacity to even ask you that. All rational thinking and control went out of your mind.

"Because I love you!", you responded, voice louder than it had been throughout your whole argument. However your screamed admission of the words you had tried so hard to keep to yourself for years, was followed by a deafening silence. All of your anger and fire drained out of you and was replaced by pure dread and regret.

You wondered for a brief moment, if you had in fact said those words aloud, but one look at Dean's face, at his shocked expression, confirmed that you had. You had just brought your walls of emotional repression crashing down around you.

You glanced to your right to see that Sam had reemerged from the library, clearly he had heard you and wanted to see how this scene would play out. Sam, being your best friend, had always encouraged you to admit your feelings to Dean, but you had always thought that was a terrible idea. There was no way someone like him could want you. You didn't deserve him anyway. All of the terrible outcomes ran through your head, Dean rejecting you, or getting mad at you and kicking you out of the Bunker and you losing your closest friends.

You were waiting for one of these possibilities to happen as you stared at the floor while Dean still stared at you in stunned silence. In reality, it had only been a few seconds, but it felt like time had stopped and you couldn't stand waiting anymore. So you ran.

"Y/N wait!", Sam called after you, but your feet were already carrying you to the garage. You grabbed your keys and got in your car as fast as you could, you wanted to be far away from this situation, somewhere you wouldn't have to face Dean. His silence made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you and you didn't think your heart could handle his rejection... or worse.

After about 20 minutes of driving, your thoughts had spiraled to the point that your hands were shaking, so you pulled off the road into a field. You got out of your car to go sit on the hood and think, try to come up with a plan on what to do next, but it was like your mind wasn't working. You hadn't even realized it, but you were crying. You just wished you could go back in time and take back those words.

_____

Dean's POV

Dean didn't break out of his trance of disbelief until he heard the garage door slam behind you. His mind couldn't wrap around the fact that you had just admitted you loved him, he thought there was no way someone like you could want someone like him.

"What the hell man!", Sam said, exasperated. "Why did you just stand there?"

"I don't know Sam!". He felt like an idiot. Why did he just stand there? Why didn't he say anything? And now you were gone. "What do I do?", he asked his brother.

"Well, it's too late to follow her, so we'll have to find her."

"How?"

The younger Winchester thought for a moment. "We can try to track her phone and hope she didn't turn it off."

_____

Your POV

You couldn't have been sitting on your hood, drowning in stress, for more than 30 minutes before you heard the distinct rumbling of the impala. You forgot to turn the location off on your phone. Your heart sunk to your stomach and you prayed to any god listening, that it was Sam in the car and not Dean. But you knew better. You knew just from the sound of his footsteps who it was.

Dean came and sat next to you in the hood of your car. You couldn't look at him, you didn't want to see the look of pity in his eyes when he saw you were crying.

"Sweetheart, please look at me", he said after a moment of silence. He placed a hand on your knee and you immediately jerked away.

"You don't need to say anything Dean, I get it." You still weren't looking at him.

"Get what?", he asked, genuinely confused at how you were reacting.

"I'm so sorry", you said, completely ignoring his question; your eyes welling with a new wave of tears.

"Whoa whoa, hey", he said softly, moving off the hood to kneel in front of you. Your hands went up to hide your face. "C'mon look me Sweetheart. Please.", he pulled your hands away from your face to hold them.

"Please don't kick me out." His heart broke at how upset you looked and the tear stains on your cheeks. He realized then, what was going through your mind; you thought he was going to reject you.

"Hey, no one's kicking you out". He gently squeezed your hands. "Look at me"

His voice sounded so gentle but you could pick up on the hint of what sounded like nervousness. You finally met his eyes.

"I love you too". Your eyes widened in disbelief at his words, but you knew how monumental Dean Winchester, saying those words to anyone, was. "I should have told you that a long time ago, but I never thought you'd feel the same."

"You love me?", you were still shocked, you wanted to cry for a whole other reason now. Relief. Happiness. Gratitude.

"Have for a long time, Sweetheart." He leaned up slowly giving you plenty of time to pull away, before planting a gentle kiss to your lips. Once your brain had caught up and he pulled away, you decided the kiss was entirely to short for your liking. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into a kiss, that tried to make up for all the years of waiting. Laying back on the hood of your car you pulled him to stand between you legs as he continued to kiss you.

Things were getting pretty heated before Dean pulled back to look down at you. "We don't have to take this any farther if you don't want to.", he said, eyes laced with softness and concern.

"Dean if you don't want to go any farther because you want to take things slow, that's fine with me, but if you're saying that because you're worried about me... I've been waiting for nine years, don't make me wait any longer.

A smile, that you hadn't seen in a long time, lit up his face. "Then why don't we move to the car", he motioned to the sky. It apparently had started lightly raining at some point and was about to start coming down harder.

You nodded in agreement, before taking his offered hand so you could climb off your hood. He opened the back door of the impala for you and let you get in before joining you and shutting the door. You were going to wait out the rain and try to make up for all the lost time.

_____

Laying in his arms, completely blissed out, you listened to his breathing and the rain hitting the roof of the car. You ran your hand down his arm until you got to his forearm. You stopped to run your thumb over the mark. "Does it hurt?", you asked.

"Not really. It did at first.", he took a breath before continuing. "I'm sorry, I know it was a stupid move."

"I'm sorry for yelling at you. I just worry about you."

Before he could respond, you heard his phone ring from the floorboard. You groaned, not wanting to move from his hold.

He chuckled at your annoyance. "It's probably Sam. It's been hours, we should at least let him know you didn't wind up in a ditch somewhere."

"Fine", you said with a playful eyeroll and reached down to grab his phone. You read Sam's name on the caller ID and answered it. "Hey Sammy", you greeted.

"Oh hey", he said clearly surprised to hear your voice instead of Dean's. "So I guess Dean found you."

"Yeah everything's good. We're ok."

"Ok good", he said with a hint of relief.

"We'll be home soon, I promise." You said your goodbyes to Sam, before hanging up and putting Dean's phone back in his pocket. "I guess we should head back."

He nodded with a sigh and began gathering your clothes.

Once you were both redressed, you went to reach for the door handle and head back to your car. Dean's hand on your arm stopped you.

"We'll get your car tomorrow, just ride home with me tonight.", he pleaded.

"Absolutely."

You had settled into the front seat with him and began the drive back to the bunker, when you had an idea. Rummaging through his box of cassettes you found the one you were looking for.

"What are you doing, Sweetheart?", he asked with a hint of amusement.

"Don't worry about it, you just keep driving." You smiled at him and slipped the tape into the cassette player.

Dean started to laugh as soon as he recognized what song you had played. "Did you just 'Night Moves' me ?"

You nodded and started singing along with Seger's voice with a huge smile on your face.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x gn!reader

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

ALWAYS

Summary: When Y/N storms out in anger, Dean is afraid he's lost her.

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None. All flangst. Kissing. Implied smut.

Word Count: 661

A/N: I saw this post and the pic made this little drabble bubble up in my mind, and I had to just go along with it. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

The dividers were created by @saradika-graphics

"Enough!" Dean barked at you. "I know what's gonna keep you safe and that's it, end of discussion. I'm not having this goddamn argument with you anymore!"

Your eyes filled with tears of frustration and you angrily spun on your heel and slammed your way out of the house.

You were gone for a few hours, trying to get your feelings under control and by the time you returned, your anger and frustration had mostly abated, though your annoyance with Dean's unceasing stubbornness still lingered.

As you walked through the door you heard Dean shout from the top of the stairs.

"Y/N!"

He bounded down the stairs so recklessly you worried he was going to break his neck. Though you should have known he was more coordinated than that. When he got to the bottom, he reached you in two strides and yanked you into his arms, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

"Dean. Air." You croaked out.

He pulled back and his face was full of sadness and worry.

"You came back." He said as he cupped your cheeks.

You frowned, perplexed at his reaction. "Uh...yeah, I live here, remember?"

You saw his jaw clench and unclench before he licked his lips and dragged in a deep breath.

"I thought...well, I thought maybe after we fought, you'd be rethinking that decision."

Your frown deepened. "Why would I do that? Because I was pissed at you? Because your stubbornness is one of the most frustrating things I've ever had to deal with? Why ever would that make me run away?"

When Dean's expression became even sadder and more worried, you laid your hand over his on your cheek.

"Dean, I'm teasing. Yes, I was incredibly frustrated and I'm still a little pissed at you. You don't get to call all the shots all the time. I know you want to keep me safe. But you can't wrap me in bubble wrap, lock me up in a tower, and throw away the key."

Dean sighed and dropped his hands from your cheeks. "Might be worth a try." He mumbled.

You shook your head, but couldn't hide a small smile. "Trust me, if you value your nuts, and want to keep them attached to your body - it's really not."

A smirk tipped up the corner of his mouth but fear and sadness still lingered in his eyes. You stepped close to him.

"Baby, did you really think I wouldn't come home just because I was mad at you?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I dunno. You were gone a long time, and you were pretty mad. And..." He looked down at his feet. "N, I made you cry."

You felt tears threatening again as you lifted his chin.

"Dean, I need you to understand this, okay? I mean, really, really understand and believe me. I don't care how angry you make me, or how frustrated I am with you sometimes. I am always coming back to you. Always."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him down to you for a kiss instead. You kissed him slowly, infusing it with all the love you had for him, and maybe just a little of your frustration too.

"Always." You promised again as you pulled away, breathless, but aching for more.

Dean's smile was boyish and shy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You smiled back lovingly before giving him a mock frown as you shook a finger at him. "But that doesn't mean you can go around pissing me off with impunity."

Dean shook his head solemnly before reaching his hand down to squeeze your ass and push you tight against him, making a soft moan fall from your lips.

"No, ma'am." He answered with a wicked grin. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You giggled, the fight and frustration dissolving completely beneath want and desire. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

"I have some ideas."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fan fic

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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

Note

Drunk and/or high sex? W/ Dean or Jensen 😇🙏🏼

A/N: Picked Jensen for this since I already had a bunch of Dean requests! I imagined New Orleans in summer for this and thought the "love drug" was quite fitting. It was kinda inspired by the story of how Alison Brie started things with Dave Franco, which she told in a recent interview. Thought that was hilarious, so of course I had to use it. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking & drugs (weed & mdma), flangst, smut (thigh riding, p in v)

Word Count: 1.4k (I'm really trying here lol)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Lavender Haze

There’s a visible haze flowing through the room, a midnight blue veil with particles of shimmering glitter in between that glistens like the night sky outside the French window. It feels surreal, like the fabric of the stars itself is blanketing you, enveloping your entire being as his plump lips touch every inch of your skin, ignite it as he worships your body. The entire universe is suddenly in your room.

The air smells of sweat, a mixture of drinks lingering on your breaths, and the damp summer heat that filters in through the open window despite the cool night air. You can’t remember how you got back to your hotel; too many shots have been downed tonight to care. Did you take a cab? Did you walk the busy streets till you landed back here? All of the above?

All you remember is the laughs, the music, the drinks, and the joint you shared with a friend in a dark alley. You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d land here – with him. More drinks flowed, his irresistible smile blinded you, and a few clumsy touches of his hands on places where he had never touched you before kindled your heart and soul. He was a kid playing with matches, too stupid, too innocent to know what he was doing, what dangerous game he started to play, and you were drunk enough to set both your bodies ablaze without wasting a second thought on it.

It was a harmless text from your friend that started this whole mess: Jensen – I think you should hit that tonight. Of course, your blurry mind thought it was a glorious idea. After all, you had wanted this, wanted him for a long time now.

You never thought he’d say yes, but if you were honest with yourself, you were always scared to ask in case he did agree to your insanity, knowing you weren’t good enough, knowing you’d only ruin it, knowing you could never dream this big. Maybe that’s why you posed the most outlandish question you could think of, hoping with certainty he’d deny your request and gently turn you down.

“I have a Molly… Wanna split it and have some fun in my hotel room?”

It wasn’t like him to agree to something like this. Maybe you’ve always been a bad influence on him, but you were still majorly surprised when he didn’t even blink. He just smirked at you and nodded like it was the million-dollar question he’d been waiting for.

And yes, maybe you knew he wanted you just the same, knew he harbored a crush on you for years, knew he craved the same things you craved. It’s been written in the stars since the two of you met and caught each other’s eyes for the very first time. But call it Southern gentlemanliness or whatever, in all these years, he never made a single move – not obvious ones, at least. True to form, he was never pushy, always waiting for your pull. And God, once you handed him that rope, he lassoed you like the coolest cowboy and tied you up good.

When your back hits the door, your lungs are barely able to catch a breath as Jensen is on you the second you enter the hotel room, scared if he gave you any wriggle room, you’d leave, even though you’d never dream of it. His ample lips find yours first, claiming you in a bruising kiss that leaves you speechless. You’ve kissed before, sharing the odd professional movie kisses between your characters on a set with an audience, but this kiss is entirely different.

Real. Raw. Breathtaking.

Then, his sinful lips trail down your jaw, find your throat, and mark your pulse point purple, green, and blue. His addicting hands have been on you nonstop since you each downed that little love drug with a bottle of water. It started with minute touches – his large palm on the small of your back when he guided you out of the bar, his warm hand on your knee in the back of the cab, his fingertips trailing up and down your spine in the elevator, and by the time, you’ve unlocked the door, he was ready to downright bounce on you. He loves touching you, loves to feel your skin ignite like a chemical reaction underneath his fingertips whenever the two connect.

His aura is emerald – soft, lush, and full of hope. Relaxing. Safe.

Yours is lavender – mysterious, sensitive, and full of passion. Inspiring. Chaotic.

With every touch and every kiss, his aura intoxicates yours, infecting every vein in your body until each drop of blood feels fused to his. A haze of green and purple, inseparable by the end. It’s surreal in the best way.

The tips of your fingers tingle whenever they smooth over an inch of cinnamon-freckled skin. He’s hot to the touch, his warmth swaddling you like a snuggly blanket that feels like childhood memories and home. You never want to let go. This feeling should last forever. The strong heartbeat behind his ribs tells you he feels the same.

His knee sneaks between your legs as his hand crawls inside your panties and finds an ocean waiting for him there. His groans reverberate against your skin, your throat, your chest as you needily seek more friction on his thigh, grinding your clothed cunt against the rough denim fabric as his thick thumb strokes your clit.

“God, this is so hot… you’re so hot,” he murmurs against your neck, his free hand pushing parts of your shirt and bra down to grope one breast, pinching the nipple between his fingertips until it hardens. “Wanted this for so long… So, so long…”

“Me too,” you whisper breathlessly, your cloudy brain torn between an orgasm and a love confession.

His attacks on your tit and cunt seize and still, his head slowly rising as he finds your gaze. The look in his eyes is overflowing with surprise, desire, and hope, showing a longing that’s finally sated. The hand on your breast leaves its place and cups your cheek, caressing it with gentle care.

“Yeah?”

A smile twitches on your lips as you nuzzle your nose against his and nod. “Yeah,” you admit your secret. “Of course, it is. All I need is you. I just wanna stay here forever with you.”

Jensen’s lips curl into a smile, one that hides something behind it you can’t decipher. “Good,” he says and entangles you in a kiss so deep it leaves you breathless once more as he sucks the air from your lungs while you start to think that this might be the sweetest death you could’ve ever imagined.

His hands grab your thighs, lift you up until your legs wrap around his waist. His full-grown erection presses against your pussy as you grab and bite and hold onto whatever of him you can get between your hands and mouth. Clothing items drop in haste, not sure who removes what from where, but you’re positive your lips part as he enters you in one thrust until his long, thick cock is fully sheathed by your heat, stretching your walls like no one ever has before. The delicious burn, the pleasurable sting between your thighs is a new feeling you could find yourself growing quite addicted to.

“Shit, ’m sorry…,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck at his eagerness and apologizes for his temporary loss of control, which you find quite flattering as his cock throbs inside of you while his fingers gently caress your head and comb through your hair to soothe the bits of pain you feel. “I love you,” he whispers softly against your lips and claims them in the same breath.

You smile shyly, happiness wrangling with sadness inside your heart. “It’s the drugs,” you tell him and excuse his irrational behavior, having been through this circle a few times before.

However, he shakes his head with all the stubbornness he can gather and cups your cheek, thumb caringly brushing over its rosy apple. “No, it’s you, sweetheart. Promise,” he assures you.

With a thick swallow, you nod and drop a tear on his thumb pad. “Okay… I love you, too,” you accept and cry out as he pushes back inside and never stops again.

Considering the other drabbles I did up till now and the nature of this request, this turned out oddly romantic and sweet *pats self on back* 🥰

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

#dirty drabbles #jensen ackles x female reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles smut

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jawritter · 11 months

Text

Carry On

Chapter 28

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: flangst, vomiting, nausea, dean freaking out just a little.

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist Series Masterlist

2 Months Later

Y/N’s POV:

Y/N’s feet drug heavily down the stairs, towards the kitchen, where she noticed that it was already after 12 in the afternoon.

“Fuck,” Y/N swore as she rubbed her hands harshly down her face, a hint of annoyance seeping into her sleep groggy system that Dean had once again let her sleep in, and didn’t wake her up before he went to work that morning.

This was the third morning in a row that this had happened, and while Dean didn’t seem to mind that she overslept, and didn’t make him breakfast or see him off in the morning before he headed to the shop, it annoyed the hell out of her.

With a defeated sigh, Y/N decided that she didn’t want breakfast; or rather lunch at this point, anyway, and made the climb back up the stairs to go get in the shower. Y/N knew that Dean usually didn’t take a lunch until around 12:45; that didn’t give her much time, but she figured she’d have enough time to go and grab a shower, make herself look somewhat presentable, put some concealer on the huge hickey that Dean had gifted her with the night before, and make her way to grab him some takeout for lunch before he actually needed to eat something, she could at least do that.

She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her lately, but she was sure that she needed to get her shit together before Friday. Fridays were always the busiest day of the week at the shop. It was payday, and she always helped Dean get the checks together for the guys that were working there, and Dean usually had her set the following week's work schedule that day as well, so that when they got their checks, they could also get a copy of their work schedule too. This usually took most of the day, so like it or not she was going to have to get her ass out of bed at a decent hour Friday.

Swearing under her breath as she mindlessly undressed as quickly as she could, all while going over the to do list, completely distracted from what she was doing, until she turned to the right to start the shower running; it hit her the most intense, deep wave of nausea she had ever experienced in her life. It hit so fast, and was so crippling, that it brought her to her knees, and she barely had time to lift the toilet seat before emptying the contents of her stomach. It was over as soon as it began, or at least was abated for the moment, and all she could do was sit there on her knees, stunned by what had just happened.

She had never experienced anything like that before, and while she wasn’t cripplingly nauseated anymore, she still felt like completely and utter shit.

Maybe she was sick and just overworked, maybe that is why she was so damn tired.

Great.

She’d never been the sick one before, it was always Dean who was the sick one. He depended on her to help him with things still, mostly helping run his garage, so how in the fuck was she going to be sick?

As she sat for an immeasurable amount of time pondering; the nausea slowly started to creep back in, so she forced herself to stand up, and start the shower. One thing was certain, today she wasn’t going to be able to make it into the shop. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she was going to make it through the shower she was attempting to take. So as soon as she did, she was going to have to get ahold of Dean, and tell him; fuck she dreaded telling him she was sick with every fiber in her being.

This sucks!

SHE was the caregiver in their relationship for so long. She never took a sick day. She never even complained when she was stressed or tired. Now here she was, most likely going to be paying her oms to the porcelain Gods all day today. She had no idea how to deal with this.

Jack really, really, seemed to hate her lately.

Dean’s POV:

Dean sat with his lips pressed into a tight, thin line, his oil-stained hands gripping the smartphone that looked comically small in his hand, reading Y/N’s text over and over again.

I can’t make it today babe, I’m sick. It’s nothing serious, so don’t worry about coming home. I’m sorry I can’t bring your lunch. See you when you get home. Love you.

Y/N had never been sick before.

Okay, now he was being dramatic, but he’d not seen her sick as long as they’d been together, and it terrified the fuck out of him. If it was bad enough for her to text and say she wasn’t going to come in today, it must have been pretty fucking bad. She said it was nothing serious, but he knows Y/N well enough to know that’s a goddamn lie. If it’s serious enough to ground her for the day, then it’s pretty bad; and she said HE was the one that tried to downplay everything.

Dean finally tore his eyes away from the phone long enough to peek through the door at the guys that were still working in the shop. It wasn’t even 12:30, and he still had a few hours to go before he was off for the day. It didn’t help that they were training two new guys, Reed and Zade.

He desperately wanted to get out of this shop. He wanted to go home and take care of his girl.

“Dammit,” Dean growled as he looked back down at the text message, rereading her words again.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan, one of the guys he considered a garage manager, questioned; his head sticking inside of Dean’s office, while the rest of his body leaned awkwardly just out of the frame.

Dean licked his lips nervously before tossing the phone onto the desk, resulting in a loud thud that echoed through the confined space of his office. He could literally feel his own body tensing the longer he sat there with his mind racing on everything that needed to get done today, coupled with the fact that he no longer really gave a shit about any of it. All he wanted to do was leave and go home.

“Y/N’s sick,” Dean finally relented, “she’s not going to make it in today.”

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as he took in what Dean had just told him, Dean’s jaw set firmly.

“That’s not like her,” Jonathan said, “maybe you should go home man there’s more than enough of us here today, we can handle the workload.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a frustrated growl from deep down in his chest.

“You know I hate leaving you guys here alone with two fucking newbies,” Dean voiced, and Jonathan put on his best bitchface.

“It’s not my first time training people dude. There are literally seven of us total here today, only two of them are inexperienced, I think we got it. GO HOME. Go see about that lady of yours. Hell, she puts up with your old mean ass, go take care of her for once.”

Dean swallowed back the retort of how he was about to take care of Jonathan’s ass if he didn’t watch his damn mouth, because honestly, he had a point.

Y/N had given up everything to take care of him after his accident. Here he was worried about leaving a fucking shop. SHE should be his priority, not this place.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, making up his mind. “I’m going home. If you have any problems, call me.”

“Atta boy!” Jonathan agreed before disappearing back into the garage.

Dean’s hands trembled with anxiety as he grabbed his keys and made his way towards the garage door. He felt like he was moving too slow, and he cursed his fucking failure of a body for not being able to move faster than what it was. He wanted to be with her -right that moment, not have to struggle his way to the car.

Dean was pretty sure he would end up with a ticket in the mail for running that redlight, but he didn’t have time to give a shit. No matter how fast he drove, it didn’t feel like it was fast enough to get to his girl. Which is why when the redlight stopped him in the middle of an empty intersection, Dean said ‘fuck it’ and just ran the damn thing.

Dean swore as he closed his front door behind him, finally able to breathe a sigh or relief.

Everything in the house seemed just as it was when he left it that morning. Nothing at all was out of place. Even the newspaper he left open on the table for Y/N to clip the coupons out of was still laying open just as he’d left it. One thing was missing though, and that was the fact that Y/N wasn’t in the kitchen where he would usually find her when he came home this close to lunchtime. It made his chest tighten; those old hunter instincts that he kept buried resurfaced with force.

His feet carried him up the stairs as his heart hammered painfully against his ribcage. If something was really wrong. If his girl was in trouble, he’d lose it. He’d absolutely lose it if he lost her for some reason. Hell, there’d be no living for him anymore. He knew that. He couldn’t do this without her.

With shaking hands, Dean slowly opened the door to their shared bedroom, and that’s where he found her, curled into a ball in bed, covers wrapped tightly around her, sound asleep. His legs were shaking so hard at this point that he could only shut the door, and then stand there, attempting to slow his heart back down, and catch his breath.

As if sensing him, Y/N’s eyes opened, and she frowned when she saw him standing there, probably looking pale as fuck in the doorway. Here she was, the sick one, and she was still trying to take care of him.

“Dean?” She questioned as she set up slowly, as if she didn’t trust herself to move too fast.

As soon as his name fell from her lips, his feet carried him towards the bed, almost like a bolt of electricity had hit him in the ass, and forced him to move from the spot he was frozen to.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned hoarsely, adjusting the pillows behind her so that she was able to sit up more comfortably as he planted himself on the edge of the bed next to her. “I told you I would be fine, there was no need for you to worry.”

“Well, you know me sweetheart, worry is my middle name,” Dean tried to lighten the mood by giving her the best smart ass smirk he could come up with, but she countered with what he thought was the most adorable bitchface that he’d ever seen, and all he could do was stifle the laugh.

“I’m fine Dean, really. Honestly, as strange as it sounds, I feel perfectly fine now, and I’m honestly just tired and kinda hungry,” Y/N confessed, looking a little embarrassed at her lap where she had her hands folded that he’d bothered to come home, when apparently there wasn’t anything wrong; or at least she felt that there was nothing wrong.

“What happened sweetheart?” Dean pressed. Even though she seemed perfectly fine, he was still more than a little concerned, and he couldn’t shake it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her brows furrowed in thought. “I woke up, was going to take a shower and meet you at the shop for lunch because you let me oversleep… again.” She paused, giving him an evil look, but he didn’t cower, she was so tired the last few nights, how could he not let her sleep in for a few days?

“Then when I went upstairs to take a shower and get dressed, I got violently sick. It lasted about an hour, I fell asleep right before I texted you, now I feel fine. Like nothing ever happened, and I’m just really, really tired.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed as he thought it over. His mind was racing a mile a minute. Did she just eat something bad? That couldn’t be, because he ate everything she had, and he was fine. Was she just over tired? He’d never heard of that making someone vomit before, though it wasn’t impossible for it to.

Then it hit him like a rolling steam engine….

“Baby,” Dean questioned, taking her hands and forcing her to look up at him. Suddenly his chest felt tight all over again, and a fresh wave of nerves settled in his stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

Her confused silence at his behavior was his only answer, so he continued cautiously, afraid of her reaction to his own conclusion.

“Are you late?”

Forever:

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#Carry On #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #hurt!dean winchester x reader #hurt!dean winchester xy/n #hurt!dean winchester x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #jawritter #jensen ackles

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deanwinchesterswitch · 9 months

Text

Summary: Timing is everything

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Was originally going to post this on Friday, but I can't wait. Look for it tomorrow morning, August 9.

There is a Sam Version, too.

#dw's witch writes #flangst #run away with me #fic promo #dean winchester #sam winchester

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princessmisery666 · 1 year

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The Longest Time

Summary: For the longest time, Dean hasn't allowed himself to dream of a future, but Wynter changes things.

Warnings: fluff, flangst.

W/C: 6k

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, OFC (Wynter).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Wynter), Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy.

Notes: the finale didn’t happen; Chuck is gone.

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld sent me this request, and the muses loved it. Yvette, thank you so much for the inspiration. I had a blast writing this, I Mary Sue’d Christmas, and I ain’t even sorry. 😍🤣

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch thank you so much!! // all mistakes are my own.

Graphics: dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester

The Longest Time

Sam and Dean step out of the Impala in the bunker's garage, tired but happy to be home. Since Chuck’s defeat, it’s been monster-of-the-week type gigs, but it hasn’t made the fights any easier.

Sam opens the back door for Eileen and helps her out, kissing her when she’s on her feet, and Dean smiles fondly as he passes to the trunk.

For the longest time, Dean had given up on a future. He wasn’t living. He had been surviving, taking one breath after the next, going through the motions. Seeing his brother happy causes a flutter of restlessness in his chest, and he thinks of Wynter, likely sound asleep in her bed, and it grows into a bubble of excitement that wants to erupt, but he holds it back.

It’s almost midnight, so Dean doesn’t expect Wynter to be waiting up to greet them, but she was expecting them home, so he’s hopeful there are at least some delicious leftovers waiting in the kitchen.

“I hope Wynter made pie,” Dean muses aloud as they walk the corridors from the garage.

Sam rolls his eyes, “she always makes you pie when we’re gone longer than a day. She puts her anxiety into baking.”

“Well, her anxiety is delicious,” he jokes.

“Y’know,” Sam says, holding the door to the library open and motioning for Eileen to enter first while focusing on Dean. Before Sam even inhales to continue, Dean knows he’s about to start a lecture. “Eating this late is bad for…”

Eileen freezes with a loud gasp a few steps inside the room, interrupting the lecture. The boys hurry to follow, echoing her gasp of wonderment.

The bunker has been transformed into a spectacular Winter Wonderland. There’s a giant Christmas tree, the star on top as high as the balcony in the map room. Soft glowing lights twinkle around white and silver decorations. Glittery reindeer give the impression they are in flight. Plastic robins look as if they could burst into song; the fake snow on the tips of the branches they’re perched upon looks cold to the touch. The baubles glisten and sway slightly in the draft that always seems to be flowing through the room. Large boxes wrapped with silver bows sit below the tree, and Dean gazes with eager curiosity as to what they contain.

“Wow,” Sam says, and Dean agrees right along with him.

“Wynter’s been busy,” says Eileen, spinning slowly to take in the other decorations adorning the library. Larger versions of the galloping reindeer in the tree peek out from between the shelves, a jolly Santa sits on a miniature rocking chair in the middle of the table, and several more strands of sparkling lights are hanging from the ceiling.

Dean smiles as his heart swells. It’s beautiful. He’s never seen the bunker look so…cozy. Wynter has made it a home, one that now feels lived in and cherished. He clears his throat of unexpected emotion, coughing around a quick “Night, guys,” before swiftly walking away.

Leftovers forgotten, he heads straight for Wynter’s room, noting the trail of Christmas that leads him there. Her room is empty, door wide open, bed still made. The fizz of excitement is slightly dampened because he has a good idea of where she is and why.

His bedroom door is open, only enough to let a crack of light in and let him know she’s in there. “Wynter,” he softly calls, pushing the door open. His elation returns at the comforting sight in front of him.

Miracle lifts his head from Wynter’s lap, tail wagging, as he yawns. “Hey buddy,” Dean whispers as the dog jumps off the bed and bounds across the room to greet him. He scratches behind the dog's ears and under his chin while he stares at the sleeping woman in his bed.

The lamp beside Dean’s bed drapes Wynter in an amber glow. She’s propped up against his headboard, her chin resting on her chest, and his frayed and torn copy of The Odyssey lies open across her stomach.

“Damn,” he whispers. She’s as breathtaking as the new decor.

He notices the small red plaid Christmas trees on his desk, surrounded by mini elves with oversized hats covering their eyes, stopped by their large circular noses. He chuckles, thinking they’re kinda cute.

She’s cute. Cute, beautiful, kind, sweet, sexy, funny. She’s a retired hunter, a busted-up knee took her out of the field years ago, but she still does her part. Researches, answers calls, and organizes hunters. When the alternate universe hunters arrived, Sam called her in for help. She’d been there ever since.

Dean sighs, watching her chest rise and fall. He’s had years to see if there’s something more to their relationship, but there was always something in the way. Now that Chuck is gone, and Dean’s decisions are his own, it’s been on his mind more frequently, but apart from sharing a bed when the nightmares wake them, he’s been a saint.

He doesn’t remember crossing the room but finds himself gently brushing the hair off her face and picking up the book. She stirs, taking a deep breath and her eyes flutter open.

The smile she gives him is enough of a gift that he has no need for any of the brightly wrapped packages beneath the tree.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” she says, stretching her whole body.

He sits beside her in an attempt not to look at where her oversized tee rides up her thigh. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she says, shuffling to sit up straighter, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It’s nice to come home to you in my bed. He doesn’t say it, but it must show on his face because, under the ambient lighting, he sees her cheeks tinge pink.

“Nightmare woke me up. I came to see if you were home,” she explains unnecessarily. He knows that’s why she’s in his bed. Other than falling asleep watching some cheesy horror movie together, there’s no other reason for her to be there.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, smoothing the wayward strands of hair that fell back onto her face.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze to look at her fidgeting hands in her lap. “I don’t remember it now,” she lies. She’s as easy to read as the book on his nightstand.

“I’m home now,” he smiles when she lifts her eyes again, “give me five minutes?”

It’s an invitation to stay, and he holds his breath while she deciphers his meaning. She nods, chewing her bottom lip worriedly, and he leans forward to kiss her forehead before getting to his feet.

He points at the dog, “keep her company for me, buddy,” he instructs, and Miracle jumps onto the bed to drape himself across her lap.

She smiles happily, stroking the dog. “Hurry back; it gets cold in here without you.”

Wynter flips a pancake just as the toaster pops, and Dean shuffles in, wearing the deadman’s robe and looking adorable in his sleepy state. It’s perfect timing, but she’s kind of mad at herself for not staying in bed and waking up beside him. She knows he wouldn’t have minded, but something about waking up next to him feels a little too intimate.

No one greets him while he pours his coffee, all of them long accustomed to knowing he’s grumpy until at least his fourth sip.

Wynter butters the hot slice of bread, adds it to the pile, and then Eileen plants a kiss on her cheek as she steals the fresh pancake from the pan and the last strip of real bacon from the plate. It’s fine. There’s a whole tray staying warm in the oven for when Dean’s ready to start the day.

Sam piles up his second plate with toast and fake ‘healthy’ bacon before dipping to kiss her cheek too. She chuckles, a happy warmth spreading through her that they are getting in the spirit and obliging her silly idea to spread some joy.

“It smells so good in here,” Dean says, announcing he’s ready to be spoken to.

Wynter chuckles, “bacon, toast, sausage, scrambled eggs, mushrooms, hash browns, and pancakes, come help yourself.”

Dean rushes over, excitedly rubbing his hands together, and stares at the feast awaiting him. Sam very deliberately clears his throat, and Dean turns to look at him.

“If you’re going to lecture me on my cholesterol, save it.”

Sam smirks, and rather than speak around a mouthful of food, he uses his knife to motion toward the ceiling, and Dean’s eyes follow.

She holds her breath while his sleepy brain processes what the mistletoe hanging above her means. Wetting her lips, she takes a tentative step toward him and leans in. Dean clears his throat, practically jumping toward her to deliver the lightest and quickest of kisses to her cheek, then turns to fill his plate, rocking on his heels and avoiding eye contact with her.

Disappointment floods through her like an icy drink, and she quickly switches off the burners. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she says to her own feet as she crosses the room.

Hanging mistletoe had been a stupid idea. She sees it now. Sam and Eileen played along, kissing her cheek every time they were under it, but clearly, Dean was uncomfortable, and she never wanted that.

Dean hasn’t seen Wynter since breakfast, there are only so many places he can hide, but he’s doing a pretty good job of avoiding her.

Ridiculously, Dean pops his head around the kitchen door before entering. He doesn’t want to avoid her altogether; he’s only trying to prevent being alone with her. But he’s safe; Sam is sitting at the table, reading a book.

Dean notices the mistletoe is suspiciously absent as he heads for the coffee pot.

“She made me take it down,” Sam explains without being asked.

“Huh? What?” Dean asks, feigning innocence.

“Said she didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and asked me to take it down,” Sam shrugs while Dean fills his cup.

“She didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“Dude, you were a deer caught in headlights!”

“I know,” Dean groans, joining him at the table. “I was an idiot. But I don’t want our first kiss to be some holiday gimmick. It should be something special.”

“So you do want to kiss her?”

“What?” Dean says, shocked Sam even has to ask. “Of course I do.”

“Well, that was a missed opportunity.” Sam stares at him expectantly.

Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “Since the whole Lisa and Ben disaster, I never let myself think of a future,” he sighs wearily. That debacle still weighs heavy on him. “For the longest time, I’ve accepted that hunting and being here with you was my happily ever after. But…” he pauses, unsure how to explain it without sounding like a chick flick cliche.

“But you see a future with Wynter?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. Telling someone your wish is a surefire way to make it not come true, besides if it all goes to shit, he’d have plausible deniability. Chuck’s no longer writing his story, but that doesn’t change who he is. “I do know that whatever happens, I want to do it right.”

“I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about you.”

“You mean Eileen is pretty sure?”

“Exactly,” Sam smiles like a lovesick puppy at the mention of his girlfriend. The smile quickly drops, and he looks sorrowful. Dean knows he’s going to be the bearer of bad news before he even utters a word. “But maybe you should tell Wynter that, sooner rather than later,” Sam suggests, “she’s going on a date.”

“When the hell did that happen?” he grumbles.

“Probably shortly after you shot her down,” Sam guesses with a shrug.

Wynter checks the contents of her bag as she leaves her room; purse, phone, keys, lip gloss, and pepper spray - can never be too careful. She rounds the corner and slams directly into a solid chest. She stumbles back, staying on her feet only because Dean catches her around the waist and drags her into him, crushing her bag between them.

Dean utters a string of curses as she unravels herself from his arms and her bag spews its contents across the floor at their feet.

“Sorry,” they say simultaneously.

“I got it,” he grumbles, halting her descent to pick up her items. He kneels at her feet, collecting up her lip gloss, keys, and phone and putting them back in her bag. He holds the pepper spray and looks up at her. “Expecting trouble?”

“No,” she frowns, “but can’t be too careful nowadays.”

He stands straight again, handing back her bag but holding out the can. “If you’re not sure about this guy,” he says, tugging the spray back when she makes a grab for it. “I can come, sit in the back, and keep an eye on him.”

She doesn’t need to wonder who told him. There’s no reason for it to be a secret, but she feels weird going to meet another man after having spent the night in Dean’s bed, as if she’s doing something wrong. Though she knows her only error was assuming her feelings were reciprocated.

“No,” she says too quickly. “Dates are awkward enough. I don’t need to add you looking over my shoulder.”

“If it’s awkward, maybe that’s a sign,” he shrugs.

“Dating advice from Dean Winchester. Must be a Christmas phenomenon.”

He laughs, and she mimics him, feeling the buzz of excitement she gets whenever her words or actions make the seasoned hunter smile.

“It might not be awkward, but I’d be less tense and nervous if you weren’t there.”

He ponders it for a moment, holding her stern gaze but finally relents, features softening to a reassuring look. “Can I at least give you a ride to wherever you're meeting this guy?”

It’s a not-so-subtle attempt to ask where she will be. She knows he worries, and she’s not one to lay unnecessary weight on his shoulders. “We’re just going to the Coffee Bean.”

“What a cheap ass,” Dean scoffs, “couldn’t even spring for a nice dinner.”

She chuckles at his apparent disgust, “coffee was my idea, less pressure.”

His brow raises as does his volume, “You feel like this guy is pressuring you?”

“No, Dean. I just meant it’s more informal.”

“Oh, okay, got it.” He rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “Well, um, have fun, I guess,” he says, stepping around her.

“Dean,” she calls as he reaches the next corner.

He stops, spinning to face her again, “yeah?”

“A ride would be nice,” she says, and as the words spill out, her heart cracks just a little. If Dean has no problem driving her to see another man, then her assumption that he sees her as nothing more than a friend is firmly confirmed.

Dean steals glances at Wynter as he drives. She looks pretty, light makeup rings her eyes, making them brighter, but she still looks natural, like it was effortless. Sitting beside him in the Impala, he could almost convince himself that she’d made the effortless effort for a date with him - until they approach the Coffee Bean.

“That’s him,” she smiles subtly, pointing out a tall, dark-haired man nervously scanning the street. Dean slows as they pass to get a better look at the guy - to know who he needs to murder if he turns out to be an asshole - and they lock eyes through the window. Other than the too-closely set eyes, the guy looks like he walked off a magazine cover. Everything is too perfect, too polished. Hair neatly cropped, jeans, button-down, and jacket that looks professionally pressed, shoes gleaming in the late afternoon sun, and Dean holds back a scoff. There’s also something about Mr. GQ’s stance…ugh, military. Dean’s not sure which is worse, a male model or an ex-grunt.

“Point one for Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome,” Wynter interrupts his mental assessment as Dean pulls onto the next block, “he showed up.”

“He’d be a fool not to,” Dean says, turning to give her a sincere smile.

She returns it, shying away but masking it as unfastening her lap belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.”

He watches her get out and rush to the sidewalk, slowing her step as she nears the corner. She smooths down her coat and squares her shoulders before continuing, and Dean feels his gut twist with every step she takes away from him.

He knows it’s wrong, and he should head home. Preferably via a liquor store, but curiosity gets the better of him. Besides, he tells himself he should stay close by in case she needs him.

By the time he’s found a parking spot and walked back to the coffee shop, they have their drinks and are seated at a table in the middle of the room. They seem to only have eyes for each other, she’s talking, and the guy looks like he’s genuinely listening.

“Sammy, I need a favor,” Dean says as soon as the call connects.

Sam sighs, “Ryan Barnes, retired marine, currently a teacher at the naval academy, excellent service record, pays his taxes, owns his own home, no living relatives.”

“What? How did you…”

“She’s not stupid, Dean. She asked me to do all the necessary checks too.”

“So she’s serious about this guy?” Dean panics, watching through the window as she takes a sip of her coffee to stifle a warm smile.

“Not yet,” Sam explains, “it’s only a coffee date.”

“Only a coffee date? You say that like it means something.”

Sam’s eye roll is in his tone. “A coffee date is a test. It’ll last two hours, two and a half maximum. It’s pressureless; no expectations from either side. It’s just to sort of prove you are who you say you are.”

Dean feels better for the briefest of moments, that is, until Wynter laughs at her purportedly upstanding and perfectly respectable date. He’s clearly passing the test. Dean hopes Ryan is committing everything to memory, all her eye-crinkling smiles and the light touch on his arm.

“Dean?” Sam enquires.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he says, sitting at a table outside the Coffee Bean. He’s not in her line of sight, but he can see her reflected in the mirror behind the counter. If she looks up, she’ll notice him, but the pair are too enthralled with each other, or so it seems.

“Stop spying on her.”

“What? I’m not,” Dean stammers, “I gotta go,” before hanging up.

He tries to recall the first time he met Wynter but can’t. He remembers it was through Bobby. He must have called her in for help with a case, and then she was always at the other end of the phone, backup when they needed it without question. It’s strange he doesn’t remember their first meeting but knows he’d be lost without her now.

Ryan is handsome and funny. He’s attentive and seems to be genuinely interested in what she has to say. He’s actively listening, not just waiting for his turn to talk, but knowing Dean is watching, she can’t help but compare them.

While Ryan recounts a funny story about one of the cadets in his class, she ponders how he’d fare against a vampire. He’s well-built and athletically slim. He’s run a marathon or two, but she wonders if he’d run and leave her behind if they encountered a ghost. His arms are toned, muscles noticeable but subtle beneath his shirt, but would those arms hold her tight and soothe her after a nightmare? Especially as she couldn’t explain the horrors that haunt her, rising like demons in her sleep. There are no dark circles under his eyes, indicating he sleeps well, and she’s curious to know if he’d forgo sleep to drink coffee with her in the kitchen, talking about nothing and everything to avoid closing her eyes again.

Ultimately, she’s wondering if he could replace Dean. Even as the thought occurs, she stomps it down, realizing no one will understand or know her as well as Dean does.

The subject of her thoughts pulls his jacket tight around his neck; he must be freezing sitting outside. She wants to go out and hug him, give him her warmth, chase away his concerns and tell him that she’d rather be on a date with him instead of the perfectly charming man sitting in front of her.

While some consider it foolish, she’s always felt kissing under the mistletoe is a cute and fun holiday tradition. She had hoped that Dean might use the opportunity to extend the tender forehead kisses to something more. The brief kiss he’d placed on her cheek let her know their affection for each other was not on the same level. While her feelings have grown into something more romantic, his still appear to be firmly in the friend zone. Although, the nervousness he showed afterward was odd…

Focus. She scolds herself, bringing her attention back to the room and what Ryan is saying.

They simultaneously stand, and Dean checks his watch. It’s been almost three hours. Ryan helps her into her coat, and Dean knows he needs to disappear before she sees him. He skedaddles around the corner, heading back toward Baby.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he crosses the street, and he pulls it out to see Wynter’s name flashing at him.

“Hey,” he answers, trying to sound casual and not as put out as he feels.

“If you’re done spying,” she says, mildly perturbed, “can I get a ride home?”

Fuck. He should have known she’d clocked him at some point. Just because she’s not in the field anymore doesn’t mean she still doesn’t have hunter instincts. She’d have checked her surroundings, even if Dean didn’t see her do it. “Yea, um, I’m two blocks over.”

He rests on Baby’s hood while he waits for her, watching as she strolls toward him. She looks lighter - happier - maybe this guy left an impression.

“I’m sorry,” he says, as soon as she’s close enough, “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” she says, waving him off. “It’s nice to know you care enough to worry about me.”

“I do,” he agrees, rushing to open the door for her. “I know I rarely say it, but I do care about you.”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean,” she reassures him, slipping her hand over his that sits on top of the door. “You check in when you’re on hunts, so I don’t worry and make sure the bunker is stocked with my favorite treats. You let me sleep in your bed when I have nightmares and stay awake with me when those nightmares scare me enough not to want to close my eyes again. You made me a tape of my favorite songs, even though they’re not all classic rock, and now we can add spying on my dates to make sure I’m safe. So you don’t need to say it. I know you do.”

He stares at her for a moment, wondering how she hasn’t figured it out yet. That’s his love language or whatever sappy saying the kids use nowadays. Everything she just said is how he shows her he wants to explore their relationship. Perhaps he does need to say it. Still, she’s never been a shy woman, and she just went on a date with another guy. If she wanted him, Dean’s sure she’d have said something.

His internal turmoil extends too long, and she folds herself into the car without another word. He doesn’t want to go home and go off to separate rooms for the rest of the night. He knows that’s what she’ll do. After the mistletoe mishap this morning, she’ll hide in her bedroom instead of watching gory horror movies with him.

As he rounds the car, he wonders if suggesting a Christmas movie will encourage her not to hide from him. But a stroke of genius strikes him as he slips behind the wheel.

“So I was thinking,” Dean starts, smiling, “those elves on my desk look a little lost. Wanna help me pick out some more decorations for my room?”

Her face lights up as bright as Christmas illuminations, “I’d love to.”

While shopping for decorations, neither mentioned her date, but it was slowly driving Dean insane. They’d come across the mistletoe section in the store, and he realized he didn’t know if she’d kissed Ryan goodbye. Now that’s all he can think about.

He’s sure Ryan wouldn’t have floundered and missed an opportunity to kiss her like he had.

“Dean,” Wynter calls, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

He shakes his head, refocusing his eyes on her across the booth from him. “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?” she asks, taking a bite of her burger, extra onion just like him.

He chuckles, “I was regretting not buying that polar bear,” he lies. “It would have looked awesome next to Miracle’s bed.”

“It would,” she agrees, “wanna go back for it?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his burger.

The food gets stuck in his throat as her phone lights up, vibrating against the table, and she smiles, reading the messenger’s name. She quickly swipes the phone, using a non-burger-greased finger, and reads the message before focusing back on Dean with a goofy grin. It’s a sweet smile but leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“Isn’t he supposed to wait three days or something?” he chokes, sipping his beer.

Wynter rolls her eyes, “not in this century, Winchester,” she teases, “and not when we’re as old as we are.”

“Hey.” He feigns offense that goes unnoticed. As she swiftly types a reply, he grumbles, “Speak for yourself; I ain’t old.”

“I kinda like being older,” she responds, stashing the phone in her pocket. “I’m more comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I know myself better and know what I want.”

“And Ryan is what you want?”

Eyes squinting suspiciously for a minute, she stares at him. It doesn’t take her long to make the connection, though she asks for clarification, “Sam?”

“Sam,” he nods once.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s not about what I think,” he counters, “what do you think? Although the goofy smile kinda already answered that for me.”

At the mention of said smile, it returns. “He was nice and seemed genuine. Kind, sweet, funny…”

She trails off, and Dean’s question of “But?” almost drowns out her deep sigh.

“But I don’t want to live a lie,” she explains, refusing to meet his eyes but masking it by dipping and eating cold fries. “I’ve lived through too much, seen too much to have to hide or sugarcoat it. I shouldn’t have to.”

“I get it,” he agrees, “you should be able to explain your nightmares to someone and have them understand it’s not just childish fears.”

She nods, a grateful smile that he understands. “Exactly, but forcing someone into our world just to feel less lonely would be wrong.”

That twists a knot in his heart. She shouldn’t be lonely. He’s right there. He puts down the last chunk of his burger, suddenly feeling nauseous. “You’re lonely?” He doesn’t quite stutter, but the acid in his stomach churns, and he has to work to keep it from rising.

She meets his eyes, and he must look as sick as he feels because she quickly assures, “no, no,” shaking her hands, “that was a poor choice of words.”

She waits until he takes a deep breath and polishes off his beer. He doesn’t have words to ask her to explain, yet she seems to understand he needs it.

“I love being at the bunker with you,” she smiles softly, and while their eye contact lingers, he sees her school her expression as she quickly adds, “and Sam and Eileen. I guess what I mean is I shouldn’t drag someone into our world for a little intimacy.”

Wynter fixes her eyes to his, and he can see how much she’s willing him to understand. He does - more than she realizes. He wants to offer her intimacy and all that goes along with it. He wants to offer himself. But at the moment, he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding sleazy or like it’d be a temporary arrangement.

Dean’s phone rings and startles them both out of their loaded stare. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Where are you guys? It’s been like eight hours?” he frets.

“We’re heading back now,” Dean says, somewhat regretfully. Wherever that moment could have led, it’s lost now.

Dean sits at the head of the table after carving the turkey that looks like something the Lost Boys had conjured in Neverland. Sam’s to his right, Wynter to his left, Miracle at his feet, his family gathered around the table, set and decorated as if they were expecting Royalty.

Hums and sated sighs of contentment filter around the room, everyone speechless as they taste another item Wynter has prepared. Dean agrees and echoes every single one, but the restless thrum rises in his gut again, watching everyone tuck into their dinner. The food, the day, the moment, it’s perfect. Yet, it isn’t complete. He wants to lean over and give Wynter a firm, but casual and familiar kiss, the same way Sam delivers one to Eileen, except he can’t.

“Has everyone got a drink?” Wynter asks, pulling him out of his head. There are grunts, and yeses exchanged. She nods, fretting, “is it all hot enough?”

Dean slips his hand over hers, squeezing it when she turns her palm up and meets his eyes, “it’s all perfect, relax.”

Her smile is tender and thankful until it turns teasing. She leans closer and whispers, “there’s a whole tray of bacon-wrapped fries stashed away for us for our movie marathon later.”

I love you sits on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, “you’re awesome.”

For the longest time, he never allowed himself to fantasize about something as ordinary and traditional as a family Christmas, but as he washes down his food with a sip of eggnog, he’s already looking forward to next year.

Dean looks at each person in turn. Bess smiles lovingly at Garth, who’s watching the kids. Gertie leads her brothers in making Miracle perform tricks for chunks of turkey. Jody steps between Alex and Claire before whatever they are discussing explodes into an argument. Doug, the third, feeds Donna a spoonful of bread pudding. Sam accepts a gift from Eileen, kissing her before he even tears open the paper wrapping. The room is rife with joy and smiles, and the delicious aromas of Christmas dinner still fill the air.

But Wynter is suspiciously absent. He’d watched her stalk off twenty or so minutes ago. Donna had given her a gift, an expensive sweater. Wynter’s eyes had welled with tears, and she’d yanked Donna into a tight embrace that lasted almost a full minute. Dean knew because he’d held his breath the entire time, mentally berating himself for not having bought her a gift. Shortly after she’d left the room, Dean assumed she was going to the bathroom or to bring out more food - that he had no idea where she was storing - but she hadn’t reappeared.

He finds her washing the dishes in the kitchen. “There you are,” he says to her back, walking down the stairs.

He sees her raise her arms and swipe at her face with her forearm, but she doesn’t turn to look at him. “Everything okay?” she asks, and he hears the unspoken “I’m fine,” she puts behind it, “someone need something?”

“Everyone’s fine,” he says and hears her try to mask her sniffle under his words. “Hey,” he worries, tugging on her elbow, “what’s wrong?” She doesn’t hesitate to turn to him, dragging her soapy hands out of the sink. Tears streak her cheeks, and he immediately cups her face to thumb them away. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m being silly,” she smiles, chewing her bottom lip while he cocks his brow to tell her he needs more explanation. “I’m about to go full chick flick on you,” Wynter teases, reaching for a towel to dry her hands.

“Hit me with it. I’ve survived heaven, hell, purgatory,… well, you know. I’m sure your chick flick moment won’t kill me.”

“I’m happy,” she admits, “the happiest I’ve been for the longest time, and it just got a little overwhelming.”

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

“Exactly.”

“It won’t,” he promises, “I won’t let it.” He doesn’t care what it takes; selling his soul, sacrificing himself, a spell, anything, he’ll do it to make sure this day stays perfect for her. They stare at one another for a long silent moment, the pads of his thumb interrupting the steady flow of happy tears, and he thinks it the most beautiful he’s ever seen her.

Guilt traps a lump of air in his throat. She’d done so much to make him happy the past few days – created a winter wonderland in the bunker, snuck back to the store and bought the polar bear for Miracle, spent days preparing the delicious food they’d consumed, including special treats just for him – while he hadn’t even been able to settle on a single gift for her. He’d tried, but nothing seemed to convey his feelings toward her.

“I didn't buy you a gift,” he admits.

“Seeing you smile is a gift, Dean. I don’t need anything else.”

“You sure?” he asks, somewhat cockily, “cause there is something that I want to give you.”

Timidly he draws her closer, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she lets him lead. Her eyes slip closed a millisecond before his do, and he holds his breath as lips as soft as velvet brush his like a flutter of butterfly wings before she pushes up on her toes, leaning into him. It’s tender and sweet, and Dean lingers until his lungs burn. Her tongue swipes his lips as she licks away a tear when he pulls back.

“I take it back,” she laughs, a shaky nervousness in her tone, “this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

He chuckles, exhaling into the small space between them. “I think we might be able to ramp it up to RomCom level,” he teases.

“Is that so?”

“Yep, I think I know how I can make you happier,” Dean smirks, reaching behind him to pull a battered bouquet of mistletoe from his back pocket.

Wynter laughs, “Here I was thinking that you were fixing to get us on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Oh, that will be later.” Moving closer, he holds the greenery above their heads, meeting her mouth in a searing kiss. Dean drops his arm, letting the sprigs fall to the floor as he cups the back of her head. His tongue slips past her parted lips, and the restlessness that’s plagued him for weeks dissipates against the sweetness of eggnog and nutmeg. Her fingers tug at his belt loops, yanking him tight against her. It’s only a kiss, but he feels a sense of serene delirium.

Staring into her glistening eyes as they breathlessly pull apart, he realizes he just kickstarted his future.

Likes/comments/reblogs make the muses happy and look there are handy buttons below to do just that ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester

Requests are open, info here.

#Dean Winchester #Christmas #Dean Winchester fluff #Supernatural #SPN #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy #spn #dean winchester #fluff #Dean Winchester flangst #flangst #christmas fic

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my-proof-is-you · 1 year

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If It Kills Me - Masterlist

Part 1

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kaylasficrecs · 1 year

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dean winchester recs

supernatural mafia au | au, series | @nicolejones412

my saviour | au, series | @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

cross my heart | au, one shot, angst | @deanssweetheart23

ephemeral | two shot, angst | @atwistoffate

runaway | series | @waywardnerd67

hold on to me | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @supernatural-fangirl1967

lost and found flannel | one shot, fluff | @supernatural-jackles

two halves make a whole | one shot, fluff | @supernatural-jackles

life for rent | au, series | @winchest09

not going anywhere | one shot, flangst | @wearywinchester

back to bed | drabble, fluff | @watermelonlipstick

haters to lovers | one shot, fluff | @agirlwithdemonblooddeleted

a man of letters | au, series | @waywardbeanie

not so secret | au, one shot, fluff | @acreativelydifferentlove

home to you | au, series | @smol-and-grumpy

bleeding out | imagine, flangst | @angelkurenai

nightmare | imagine, fluff | @welcome-to-writers-haven

lie to me | one shot, flangst | @deanandidrinkcoffee

s.o.s | series | @welldonebeca (tw)

i won't go on without you | imagine, angst | @impala-dreamer (tw)

reno | series | @fanfictionalraven

#dean winchester x reader #spn #masterlist #fic recs

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kickingitwithkirk · 3 months

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Snow Globes and Forgiveness

Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3194

Warnings: wincest, cursing, m/m kissing, frottage, my attempt at flangst

For: @thepromiscuousduck @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange 2023

A/N: set after 15.19 & in this AU 15.20 doesn’t happen

A/N II: Apologies to all other participants for taking so long. Between a last minute switch, couldn’t rewrite until after new year & had a rebound of a bad respiratory virus that’s keep me mostly offline last few weeks.

A/N III: once again, brevity doesn’t exist in my vocabulary

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*gif credit to creator

Sam Winchester has never been big on the holidays.

Let’s start with a specific Halloween party and his disastrous bobbing for apples incident involving a girl he liked. Then there was that one Thanksgiving he’d been invited to by another girl who turned out to have hands like an octopus and spent the whole dinner, as his brother so eloquently put it, playing footsie with brace-face, not three feet from her dad.

Not to mention, others celebrated, or not, Winchester style; his dad either missed it entirely or showed up with a bucket of extra crispy from the colonel and passed out on a couch. The best was that one Christmas before Dean went to hell a few months later.

But this year was going to be different.

They’d been adjusting to normality reasonably well. Okay, so Dean is the one adjusting better in some respects and said since it’s the brothers' first non-Chuck Christmas, they had to make it extra special. Sam knows this was Dean’s way of trying to make up for all the shitty holidays during their childhood. And knowing his brother, he’s envisioning emulating Mrs. Butters, the wood nymph they accidentally released in the bunker, Jam Packed holiday extravaganza she’d done those few weeks before leaving.

While Dean was getting the tree (Sam would’ve bet more likely grabbing the first one he saw before hitting the liquor store), he sent Sam to pick out ornaments. Sam was trying to make an effort and found himself standing in the middle of a smaller retail chain store's Christmas section, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices and feeling like a freak for not knowing what to get outside lights and colorful balls.

“First Christmas together?”

Sam’s head swiveled around, “Umm, I’m sorry?” The person who spoke said, “You’ve got that whole I’ve got no freaking idea what I’m doing look, so I took a guess it’s your first Christmas with your girlfriend…wife?”

“Uh, no, no girlfriend or wife.”

“Ahh, boyfriend.” Sam was about to correct their assumption when they continued, “That can be trickery,” and gave him the once over. “I’m guessing he’s not into frills and bows. You should head to the Christmas Market two blocks south of here. There are always booths selling unique or vintage items for the Holiday. Probably find something more appealing than this mass-produced crap.”

After one more glance, Sam thanked them and texted Dean where to meet up with him later, then headed out of the storefront and strolled down the street. He soon hears jolly holiday music and smells enticing scents wafting before entering the colorfully illuminated European style Market and is hit with the sense he’d been here before.

Sam shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Of course, he’d never been here before, but something about this place kept nagging at his memories of familiarity when the irresistible scent of hot, minty chocolate beckoned. After indulging in a creamy, decadent drink decorated with a soft peppermint stick, he walked around, taking in the wares for sale.

At one booth, he found strands of original bubble lights and instantly knew they’d appeal to Dean and his oft-denied inner child; another yielded hand-strung garlands and got popcorn and cranberry ones with instructions on storing them for future use. Sometime later, Sam is laden with so many packages and bags that even his long arms are having trouble juggling them when he sees an elderly woman seated by a table with a simple stand of lights.

The hunter in him was always looking for anything unusual which fit the bill. Smiling politely at the woman when approaching, Sam studied the few antique-looking items and decided they seemed innocuous and relaxed. He spotted an old snow globe, picked it up, and sardonically smiled at how it looked diminutive in his large hand and began examining it.

Sam took time to appreciate its craftsmanship. Its base was silver with hand-worked engravings and an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Giving it a shake, Sam watched the artificial snow gently drift over a scene of a log cabin snugly ensconced among evergreens and bare-limbed trees. He got that feeling again. Impulsively, he asked how much he was surprised not to have to haggle over the price.

Carefully taking the globe in her gnarled hands, the woman told Sam that it was crafted in the country of her birth but didn’t specify where. She carefully inserted it into an equally old wooden box, telling him it was explicitly constructed to house the globe to keep it safe during its travels. Sam hears rumbling and glances around, spotting an old pickup parking not far off, and turns back to find the woman has disappeared.

Frowning, he placed the box in a bag, gathered up the rest of his purchases, walked to the waiting vehicle, deposited the items in the crowded truck bed, and then climbed in noticed Dean peering through the cab's back window, “Couldn’t find any more stuff, Sam?” “Couldn’t find a bigger tree, Dean?” His brother says nothing while backing the truck up, “Good thing I got all that to decorate it with then.”

Dean grunted as he set his end into the tree stand and, catching his breath, huffed out, “This would’ve been the time to use some of those witchy tricks, Sam.”

“Or maybe a good time to start working out more and cut back on the burgers and pie?” Sam shot back. “Wadda you talking about?” Dean snapped defensively, “I’m in great shape!” Sam gives him bitchface and says, “Keep telling yourself that Dean.“

Squatting down to affix the supports to the tree, Sam continues. ”You got winded just carrying this down the stairs. We have to face it: neither of us is getting any younger. We had this conversation not long after dealing with Chuck. Yes, we’ll enjoy the everyday things we couldn’t before. But if we’re doing something or on a hunt and get seriously injured, Cas isn’t here to help. And you know Jack is hands-off, so we’ve ….”

“Whatever, Sam.” Dean interrupted, unsuccessfully tamping down his that hurt but not gonna acknowledge it look. “I’m going to take my out-of-shape self and get the rest of the stuff from the car. Unless you’re worried I might, I don’t know, fall and break a hip.”

“Dean, that’s not what I,” but his brother just left, and Sam sighed, knowing he’d put his foot in it again, trying not to express his true feelings. Since they got their freedom from the manipulations of heaven, hell, and all the other things that went bump in the night, the feelings he’d buried and thought were over had come back.

Before he said yes to Lucifer, Dean acknowledged Sam was an adult, and he needed to stop being overprotective. But there is a part, deep down, in both Winchesters that is psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent. That part in Sam is one hundred percent positive that if Dean found out, he’d be so disgusted by what a perverted freak he indeed was forcing Dean would cut him out of his life forever.

The bunker's door banged shut, and at the bottom of the stairs, Sam paused on the last tread, watching the scene playing out before him in the war room.

“Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles at an ornament, refusing to stay on a branch of the mostly decorated tree. He lets it go, and it begins coming off again. “That’s it, I’m getting my gun.”

Sam couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some floaters and air fresheners instead?” He can see Dean mulling over that memory, “They were great.” Peering over at his brother, he asks, “Where did you disappear to? Thought you were going to help.”

Sam held up a grocery bag, “A peace offering? I know you aren’t going to change your habits, but I'm hoping we can compromise, at least when we’re not hunting. It’s 90% lean beef, and the pie,” Dean's whole face lit up, “Is made with almond flour and natural sourced sugar.”

Trading the wayward ornament for the bag, Dean states, “You deal with this,” Sam shakes his head when he hears, “Meatman coming to town” and sets about finishing the tree.

After cleaning up, the brothers sit in the library, drinking beer and watching an old Christmas movie playing on a laptop, when Dean casually inquires, “So what’s with the box?” Sam frowned before realizing he meant and remembered leaving the item sitting by the displayed swords. “It’s ahh, well,” Sam stammers as he retrieves the box, sets it on the table, and lifts the wooden lid. Dean raised an eyebrow at the contents, “Something you need to tell me, Samantha?” he snarks, removing the snow globe.

“I’m not sure why, but I'm drawn to it.” Dean frowned at his brothers' words and took a closer look. “What’s the saying?” He asked, pointing to an inscription on the base. “Not sure. I think it's a form of an older Germanic dialect. I was going to translate it later.”

Since nothing is screaming cursed object, Dean shakes it, making the snow swirl before setting it on the table, picking up his beer, and resuming watching the movie. He could feel Sam suspiciously eyeballing him asks, “What, Sam?” But Sam simply sighed, knowing his brother wouldn’t let it go. And sure enough…

“Did Santa ask if you were a good boy this year?”

Sam glances around trying to figure out where he’s at since a moment ago he was in the laundry and now starting at his decades younger self reclining against a headboard reading he hears his, their, name and watches himself huff in displeasure and getting up proceeds to trip over his own feet.

Following himself down a wood-paneled hallway, they enter a shabbily furnished living room, and spots his brother watching his younger self standing by a wood-burning kitchen stove. “Dean?” Turning, green eyes boggle, seeing Sam standing next to his own younger visage.

“What the hell you’d do, Sam?” Dean’s gravelly voice snapped and got Sam’s back up. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” Dean looks at their younger doppelgängers arguing about something when young Sam stomps to a rickety kitchen table, plopping down on an equally rickety chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at its sacred top.

“Man, I forgot how bad your emoing could get,” Dean offhandedly commented, returning his attention to his brother, eyes hooded. “You were working in the library, so it's not hard to deduce you deciphered some curse cause now,” chucking his thumb toward the window, “We’re in the damn snow globe!”

Sam shot off bitchface #37, “It’s not a curse! I determined the words are an idiom. Слова не воробьи, как только они улетели, их уже не поймать.”

“Can you put that in English for those who don’t speak geek?”

“Words are not sparrows; once they have flown they cannot be recaptured.”

Dean got his running it over in my brain expression, “Yeah, I got nothing.” Sam concurred, “It didn’t make sense to me at first. But then I found a maker's mark hidden in the engravings. The records said they were a tradesman and spiritual alchemist.”

“What do idiot words have to do with Nicolas Flamel?” Sam's lips pursed, “Idiom Dean. And you know who Nicholas Flamel was?”

“Yeah, college boy, he created the philosopher's stone, turning metal into gold and some immortality elixir.” Sam waited. “He was in that Harry Potter movie, alright? What does that have to do with why we were here?”

“Okay, hear me out. Spiritual alchemy believers follow various paths to achieve the same goal, believing that, like metal, one’s soul can be transformed through stages of purification.” Sam began explaining the stages, and by the third, Dean heard enough.

“You're saying all the crap we’ve dealt with from heaven to hell has done some kinda colonic on our souls.” Sam began to speak, “Shut up, I’m on a role here. And if we take that idiom literally, one or both of us said something wrong and the idiom-alchy-snow globe Ghost of Christmas Past us to complete this whatever stage with an apology?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Great! Let’s figure out where here is, get to apologizing and the hell outta this glass ball.” Spying a discarded newspaper Dean tries picking up found he isn’t corporal. “Seriously?” Tipping his head sideways, he says, “Okay, December 22, 1999. We’re in Michigan..or Wisconsin?”

“Dean, what if it's something so bad there’s no way we can ask for forgiveness?”

That response made Dean's eyes narrow. “Sam, you need to tell me something?” His brother shook his head, but every warning signal in Dean was blaring like the bunker klaxon. He’d bet his entire collection of Busty Asian Beauties that Sam knew why that damn snow globe sent them here, but he was keeping it to himself for reasons.

Dean decided to hold his cards and play ignorant for a while longer. “Dude, what haven’t we done and forgiven each other for?”

Turning his attention to their younger selves made Dean feel a sense of nostalgia, missing how less complicated their lives seemed, even with the daily dose of Sam Winchester teen angst, which he always made up for.

Like now, offering to buy hot chocolate and giant pretzels triggered a memory, and the next moment, Dean was among a crowd wandering through the lighted tunnel entrance, following the loop by the salute to the armed forces towards the live reindeer exhibit.

“I remember this!” Dean exclaimed, “Dad left us in Somerset, Wisconsin, and were you all pissy ‘cause I kept giving you crap about this place’s name- Sam’s Christmas Village.”

“What else do you remember, Dean?”

They make a pit stop at the concessions, and while Sam is paying, Dean pulls out his flask, adding a double dollop to Sam’s. The kid needed to loosen up, then exchanged the cup for a pretzel with a smirk.

“This was the first time we got drunk together. Man, you were hilarious! Kept bugging me to go sledding,” Deans said, “And you fell off halfway down and laid there trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue.” Surrounded by softly falling snow tinted in hues of blues, greens, and reds, the brothers experience a memory trace of what happened that night.

Laughter fills the air as Dean staggers over, flopping on his back next to Sam, smiling at him when Sam’s expression changes and Sam leans over, his eyes' kaleidoscope colors disappearing into thin rings around dilated dark pupils as his fingertips caress the smooth, cinnamon-freckled skin and plush lips he was aching for when Dean pulled him tightly against him, noticing an unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh as Sam instinctively started rocking his hips, seeking friction for his growing hard-on.

Dean feels his cock straining inside his jeans, slides one arm around Sam’s waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angles his mouth up so he can drive his tongue into Sam’s mouth, feeling him suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock when wolf whistles from sledders passing by startled them caused Dean to bolt upright and dump Sam onto his butt.

Abruptly getting up, Dean grabbed the ropes of both sleds and dragged them downhill, leaving his brother perplexed. Scrambling to his feet, Sam rushes after, inquiring what happened, but Dean only responds that they need to head out before the roads ice over too much. The silent intensity of the drive back is broken only by music playing through the Impala’s speakers. Sam initially thinks Dean is concentrating on the road due to his intoxication. But Dean’s chewing his bottom lip signals he’s upset, and the knot in Sam’s stomach tells him to stay quiet.

Shutting the cabin door, Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it, saying he overstepped boundaries that shouldn’t have been and won’t let it happen again. In a panic, Sam blurts out how his strange feelings for years were crystal clear.

“I love you, Dean, and want us to be together…like together together.” Dean shakes his head, “It’s the whiskey making you talk nonsense.” Sam’s stubborn streak surfaces, infuriating Dean, who shoves him back against the door and shouts in his face.

“Stop acting like a freak and go sleep it off!”

Sam feels like an ice pick is entering the base of his skull, and his stomach twists, knowing he’s the reason the person he cares most about in the entire world; he cares about more than himself is reacting like this, watching Dean disappear down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut. He fucked up royally, and suddenly his life was a mess when it seemed all was about to align an hour ago, making Sam wants to scream, to throw up.

Moving on autopilot, Sam shuts his room door, grabs his duffel, and haphazardly throws his belongings into it. Then, opening the window, he slips out and trudges back to town, heading for the bus station. By the time he arrives, his feet are so numb he shuffles across the linoleum flooring to the counter, setting most of his hoarded money down asked for the furthest distinction it’ll take him.

A short time later, the bus pulls out onto the main highway heading west as Sam leans against his window, wondering how everything outside seems so normal when his world has imploded. Dean turns his attention from the younger visage before him to the mature man beside him.

“This is why you ran away to Flagstaff.”

“You were right about me being a freak all along.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, Sam, it was my fault. I tried so hard to keep what I felt hidden, but that night..,” Sam's burst of laughter made Dean bark, “You think that’s funny?”

Eyes that never settled their color, hardened by the decades of horrors they’d lived through, were now gazing at him with unworldliness a thirteen-year-old Dean, after confirming everything in their dad’s journal was true, helplessly watched flame out like dying embers.

“No, Dean. The snow globe brought us back for the dissolution stage, dissolving false beliefs. We’ve been at cross purposes all these years for the same reason, each of us thinking we are the problem and the only way out is to no longer deny our feelings.”

Lifting his hand, Sam hesitated to let his fingertips explore the older, but still, so much loved, freckled skin again when Dean shifted, reaching his still-strong hand to cradle the back of his brother’s skull, angling his mouth up and breathed out against his lips.

“Sammy, we’re good.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

#spnfanficpond #secret santa exchange #2023 #dean winchester x sam winchester #wincest #spn au #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

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