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#dean angst
stusbunker · 20 hours
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Spotless: Trill
Chapter Seventeen
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Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader
Other characters: Rufus (mentioned), Annie/Bobby, Kevin, Cas, Billie, Kelly Kline
Word Count: 1944
Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, dream sequence in italics, minor character death, grief, Non-Jewish people trying to honor a Jewish friend's life, reader keeps putting out fires, unbeta'd
Series Masterlist
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Dean leans over the edge of the hot tub, dripping wet. He is smirking and coaxing you to join him. It’s warm, the height of summer somehow and you tell him it’s too hot for it tonight, but you can’t stop looking at him, at every exposed inch of his torso.
He pushes up on his forearms, thick shoulders somehow distracting you from his husky voice. He tells you it will be alright, it will feel better once you’re in the water.
With him.
You look over and Sam’s coming onto the patio, fully clothed in jeans and a flannel, hair flapping as he starts asking you about an interview. You look for your phone, but you look down to find you have no pockets, a swimsuit you wouldn’t put on on your best day is all that you’re wearing.
Dean chuckles and suddenly, you’re beside him, water warm and soothing as he drags you onto his lap. Your phone buzzes somewhere and you can’t find it on the ledge of the hot tub. Instead you feel Dean’s hands running over your hips, and he’s gone quiet, waiting for you to look at him again.
“You deserve to be kissed,” Dean’s voice reminds you and you look down and find he disappeared. A phantom kiss on the nape of your neck is what finally makes you look behind you and you’re standing in Elizabeth’s cafe, staring at the mural you’d been mesmerized by on New Year’s Eve.
Your phone buzzed again.
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You stared at the screen, dumbfounded, then quickly got out of bed.
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You made it to Bobby and Annie’s in less than an hour, which was practically a miracle even in the middle of the day. You didn’t even knock, instead you let yourself in through the back gate and stepped into the now somber kitchen.
Annie appeared suddenly. “So you heard?” she asked softly, pulling you into a hug.
“Yeah, I — How is he?” Bobby was the only thing on your mind the whole way there, not bothering to even post a condolences post from the band until you knew how he was handling the loss of his best friend and biggest pain in his ass.
“Oh, you know, fine— if you ask him. He hadn’t seen him in months, but the secret diagnosis and the shock has him more pissed than anything,” Annie filled you in as you sat down at the island and let her pour you a cup of coffee.
Bobby had known Rufus for over thirty years, having worked as his roadie for most of the eighties. A prolific piano player and notorious grump, Rufus had been one of the first actual celebrities you’d come to know through the band family. Now that he was gone, it felt like one of the elders was missing from your California tribe.
An end of an era.
“What’s he doing?”
“Sitting Shiva. Though I think that’s supposed to be after the funeral,” Annie added offhandedly.
“Have you heard anything about services?”
Annie shook her head. “I texted his daughter asking if she needed anything and she just said that they’d be in touch.”
You wanted to go give Bobby a hug, but you knew it was best to let him sit with the quiet for a while longer. Unfortunately, Dean didn’t get that unsent memo.
A loud banging rattled the front door and before you or Annie could rush to open it, Bobby was yanking it open and bellowing “what in the hell is this all about?!”
Dean gave him a pointed look. “Lunch,” was his only reply before stepping into the foyer, arms full of take out.
“What’d you get?” Annie asked, trying to ignore Bobby’s aghast expression as everyone returned to the kitchen.
“I stopped by that little Kosher deli Rufus always liked, and got one of, well, everything. I figure, whatever we don’t eat will keep,” Dean explained, unpacking submarine sandwiches and more sides than you tried to count.
Bobby tried to storm back to his study, but Annie wouldn’t let him. You all ended up just eating in contemplative silence and letting the food soothe some of the ache. You were so grateful for Dean’s thoughtfulness in that moment, you almost forgot about your racy dream and everything that led up to it.
It wasn’t the time or the place to get all hot and bothered anyhow.
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After the food was done filling your bellies and Bobby’s and Annie’s monster-sized fridge, you pulled out what you had brought along to honor Rufus’ memory, an unopened bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.
You set the bottle down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Bobby whistled and Annie tried to get up for glasses but you waved her off, you knew where they kept them. Dean was reading the label when you returned with four cut crystal tumblers and a side of ice, you could never remember if Annie took it straight, she drank the hard stuff so infrequently.
He cracked the cap open and then your phone buzzed, but you ignored it. He poured doubles all around, but served Bobby first. 
“To that dick, may he play on in glory,” Bobby toasted.
“L’chaim,” Dean replied and you and Annie followed suit.
The stories started after Bobby’s second glass, with Dean filling in bits he’d heard from Rufus or had witnessed himself from after he’d earned the man’s rare respect.
One time Rufus actually asked Bobby to help him bury a body, but it turned out it was Rufus’ neighbor’s dog and the lady was too heartbroken to do it herself. Another time they had been mistaken for federal agents due to their matching suits, but that was just because they had to walk passed an active crime scene on the way to Bobby and Annie’s wedding ceremony.
It felt good to laugh, even while it still hurt.
You got up to get everyone some water and finally checked your phone. What greeted you was a huge reminder that it was still a work day. And you needed to get back to it.
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“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned, scrolling through the rest of the comments.
“Where’s the fire?” Bobby asked, the managerial voice coming out strong.
You looked at Dean and he could tell it wasn’t great, but you weren’t sure if you needed to bring Cas up at a time like this.
“Everybody alright?” he asked, testing the waters.
“For now, until I kill them,” you muttered, thumbing your screen until you could get to your contact list. You felt everyone’s eyes on your back as you started to pace as the phone rang, but Annie was the only one with the sense to find out what had made you so upset.
“Those morons,” you heard her say as you got sent to Kevin’s voicemail.
You hung up and called a different number. After three rings, someone finally picked up.
“Castiel’s phone, how can I help you?”
“Kevin?”
“Trouble?! Why are you listed as Y/N Y/L/N?”
“Cuz that’s my name, dumbass,” you snipped. “Where are you? Is Cas there? Why didn’t you answer your own phone?”
“Relax! I just got out of the chair, Cas’ stencil is just getting set. I would have called you back in like five minutes.”
You exhaled. “Okay. Few things. Field trips with rival schools require prior permission, you get me?”
Kevin had the nerve to laugh. “It’s just Cas, it’s not like I’m dating Ruby or hanging out with those wannabe Ghostfacers.”
You rolled your eyes. “Okay, but the band does have a designated artist. Who you— very publicly— didn’t use. You don’t piss off somebody like Billie, Kevin, you just don’t.”
“How was I supposed to know?!”
You did not feel sorry for the kid. “Put Cas on the line— speaker if his arm is busy.”
You turned around and raised your eyebrows in question to Dean, mouthing, ‘you want to hear this?’
Dean swallowed and shook his head. And you kept the phone call one-sided for your audience.
“I’m here,” Cas’ deep voice greeted you over the line, low and private.
“Who's your publicist?” you asked, not bothering with formality or reprimanding a forty-year-old man who knows better.
“Kelly, she’s also our manager and—.”
“Jack’s mother. Oh, Cas.”
“Don’t pity me, it’s fine. She’s good at what she does.”
“Okay, well text her my number and we can try and ease the backlash, but you’re gonna have to grovel to Billie on your own.”
“Right,” Cas bit out like he forgot who had covered half of his body in color.
You let the awkwardness hang in the air, but sighed when your curiosity got the best of you, “what’re you getting anyway?”
Cas hummed. “A quote from ‘Good God, Y’all’ looping around his earring.”
It was one of Rufus’ most loved albums, but not the most popular.
“Where?”
“Inside my left upper arm— Kevin’s is just below the seam of his elbow.”
“Did he cry?”
Cas sounded like he shifted positions, or maybe he was distracted watching the artist’s hands. “No, but it wasn’t his first one.”
“Pity. Okay, well I will be in touch. Don’t forget to talk to Kelly for me.”
“I won’t.”
“Bye, Cas.”
“Goodbye, Y/N.”
You hung up and slumped in annoyance and minor relief.
“What’d they say?” Bobby asked, breaking the silence of the room around you.
“Nothing too damning, but still enough to piss me off,” you replied. “I’ll talk to Cas’ people. Figure this out. I’m sure I have a million messages from Becky and Billie and probably even Crowley to sort through. Assholes couldn’t give me a day off.”
“You want me to talk to Kev?” Dean’s voice broke through your mini-rant.
“Only if you want to, I kind of gave him a piece of it already.”
Dean nodded and finished his glass.
“Damn idjits, even when they mean well.”
“Tell me about it,” you said over your shoulder, heading to Bobby’s study to get to work.
As it turned out, Kelly Kline was a stand up manager, both competent and protective. You figured out their niche and tried to work with it, though your fans were louder and more numerous, you didn’t want the frenzy of the matching tattoos to become a question of loyalty, for either Cas or Kevin.
You had Bobby read over your post memorializing Rufus and got that out into the world before you left to head back home. Dean offered to wait with you on the porch. You sat, once again, in silence, letting the sunset and breeze off the ocean ease some of the tension from the day. When your driver was two blocks away, he finally turned to face you.
“How’s he doing?”
You sighed and shrugged. “He seemed good. But from what I gather, he’s got a lot on his plate.”
Dean nodded. “Right, new band, new set list to master.”
“No, Dean, I think over everything else, the music is the easiest thing Cas has to deal with.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
Dean spotted the little hybrid approaching and he stood to give you a hug. “Thanks for coming, I mean, I know it was for Bobby, but it was nice to see you on a day like today.”
“You too.” And you meant it. You squeezed him one last time as the driver called out to you through the passenger window. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Be safe.”
“Take care.”
You felt Dean’s eyes on you as you were driven away, back to the house he had bought with Sam way back when, where you were always, glaringly alone.
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@rockhoochie
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octoberclidan · 1 month
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Needing You
Request: With absolutely no pressure, could I request some comfort for our sweet (and vulnerable) Dean? Something very soft and gentle? 💚
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Masterlist
Story:
Dean didn't wait for either Sam or [Y/N]. As soon as he'd turned off the engine, he was out of the car and marching towards their motel room. He didn't take his bag, he didn't look at either of them, he didn't say anything, he just left. Everything that could've gone wrong on the hunt, had gone wrong. Nothing about their day had gone well. It had been a cold, dark, rainy day since the moment they'd woken up. Dean had been captured by a witch, his absolute least favourite thing to hunt, and it had taken Sam and [Y/N] all day to find him. While he'd been magically held against a wall in the witch's home, he watched two of her victims die. He couldn't physically do anything, and there was nothing he could say to stop her. He was to be her third victim, but right before she cut his neck, Sam had burst into the room and the witch disappeared. Dean had fallen to the ground, and had pushed both Sam and [Y/N] away when they tried to help him up.
[Y/N]'s view of Dean marching to their motel room was obscured by the raindrops rolling down the car's window. She hadn't tried to talk to him the entire ride back; she knew better after Dean had snapped at Sam just for clearing his throat. She sighed, and was about to open her door when Sam turned around in his seat to look at her. "He'll be okay. He'll punch something, get drunk, and sleep it off. We'll be back on the hunt in the morning". He cringed slightly when he heard the door to their room slam. "I think we should probably see about getting a second room and giving him some space tonight".
"Do you think he'll be okay on his own? I've seen him beating himself up after hunts before, but I've never seen him like this", she said. [Y/N] had a deep level of concern and care for Dean. She loved both Winchesters, she'd do anything for either of them, and she hated seeing them upset. Sam sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"He won't let himself lose control, we still have to find the witch. He'll be good by the morning". He finally opened his door, the wind blowing some rain into the car. "Wait here until I get us a room, I'll be back in a few minutes". [Y/N] watched as he pulled his jacket up over his head and quickly got out of the car, closing his door behind him and jogging over to the motel's reception. She felt a bit uneasy leaving Dean alone when he was probably in there breaking something and hating himself, but she knew that no one knew him and what he needed better than Sam.
The door to the reception opened and it caught her eyes, she saw Sam jogging back to the car. She grabbed her bag from beside her as Sam opened up the trunk to grab his own, and they quickly ran through the parking lot to get to their new room, which happened to be the one right next to Dean's. Sam opened the door and ushered [Y/N] inside, and she shivered as droplets of rain water fell from her hair. "You wanna take the first shower?" Sam asked as he put his bag down on the desk beside the window, and [Y/N] nodded.
"Yeah, I'll make it quick", she said and made her way into the bathroom, taking her bag with her. The water wasn't exactly hot, but it did warm her up a little bit. She couldn't keep her thoughts from wondering to Dean, thinking about what must be going through his head and what he was up to in the other room. She began to grow even more worried as she turned off the shower and started to pull on the old comfortable clothes she kept for sleeping in; one of Dean's old band t-shirts, and some very well worn sweatpants. What if he decided to go to a bar? Dean had no issues with driving after drinking on an ordinary day, but what if he tried to drive home after drinking too much in the dark and rain?
Once she was dressed, she opened the bathroom door. Sam was sitting on one of the beds and looked up at her as she walked out. "Shower's all yours, just a warning though, the water's not hot", she said as she made her way over to the other bed.
"Noted", Sam sighed as he pushed himself off the bed to go get his clothes and toiletries. "Are you okay?" He asked before he went in.
"Yeah, just worried I guess", she shrugged. He nodded in understanding as he closed the bathroom door behind him. She heard the shower turn on, and she decided to pull out her journal to make notes on the hunt. She'd only just sat down on a bed and opened her journal when she heard a crash behind her head, and she spun around on the bed to look at the wall behind her. A few seconds later, and there was a bang on the wall, shaking it along with her bed frame. Dean. Without stopping to think, she tossed her journal down beside her and shot out of bed. She scribbled down a quick note for Sam on a little post-it that was on the desk, and headed straight out of the room.
Although the corridor outside the room had a cover over it, the floor was still wet from the rain being blown onto it from the wind. The wind and rain hit her immediately and she ran to the next door, banging on it and hoping Dean wouldn't take too long to let her in, hoping he hadn't injured himself, hoping he could let her in. When ten seconds went by without any answer, she banged on the door again. "Damnit Dean, let me in! I'm getting soaked out here!" She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her bare arms as she stood there being attacked by the weather, her clothes having no waterproof capabilities.
The door opened slightly and she looked up to find a red-eyed Dean. He looked her up and down before sighing and opening the door wide enough to let her in. She slipped inside and kept her arms around herself as she waited for him to close the door and turn to face her. "What are you doing in here?" He mumbled as he kept his head down and walked past her to his bed. He sat down on the edge of it, and she noticed that his knuckles were bloody as he held his hands on his lap.
"Will you let me look at those?" She asked, walking over to him. He pulled his hands back as she reached down for them, but she insisted. He didn't put up a fight as she held his hands in hers and lifted them up to look at them. "I'm going to clean them and wrap them".
"They're fine".
"Dean", she sighed. "They're not fine, and you're not fine either. You can talk about it with me if you want to, or you can sit there in silence, but either way, I'm taking care of these hands". She gently squeezed them before placing them back in his lap. She looked around the room before remembering that Dean hadn't taken his bag in from the car. "Just... wait here, don't move, I'll be back in less than a minute". He didn't say anything and he didn't look up at her as she quickly left the room.
She ran through the rain back to the other room and let herself in to find Sam sitting on his bed reading through a book. "How is he?" He asked, leaning forward with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"He's Dean", she sighed, looking through her bag for her first aid kit.
"You gonna bring a coat this time?" He asked as she went to open the door again. She paused and nodded.
"Good idea", she chuckled as she grabbed her jacket, holding it over her head. "I'm not sure when I'll be back... if I can get him to open up maybe I'll just stay with him, are you good here?"
"Good luck, yeah I'm fine, just let me know if you need anything", he smiled at her. He knew Dean was in safe hands with [Y/N]. Although he knew Dean better than anyone, he also knew that if anyone could get him to open up and hate himself a little less, it would be her.
Dean was waiting for [Y/N] this time with the door open, not wanting her to stand out in the rain any longer than needed. She smiled at him in thanks as he held the door open for her, and he caught himself smiling back. He could feel his anger start to dissipate, and he cursed her in his mind for having that effect on him. He felt like he deserved to feel bad, he felt like he didn't deserve to be smiling. "Okay, sit on the bed so I can clean those hands up", she said as she grabbed a chair.
"I can do it myself".
"No you can't, I've seen you doing it yourself and you're shit at it, now sit", she placed the first aid kit down on the bed and put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to shake his head and follow her instructions like he always ended up doing. He sat down and she pulled the chair closer so she could sit opposite him, their knees touching. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled out an antiseptic wipe to start to clean it. He hissed at the initial sting, but it soon went away. She held his hand in one hand, stroking her thumb up and down soothingly, while she wiped his knuckles with her other. She lifted his hand closer to her face to inspect it, and then threw the wipe away and took out some gauze.
"It's not bad enough to need that stuff", Dean protested, but one glare from her and he stopped, letting her gently wrap his hand. She placed it on his lap as he took his other hand, which wasn't as bad, but he knew she'd insist on wrapping it too anyway. He looked into her face as she worked on his second hand, noticing how she stuck her tongue out slightly between her teeth in concentration. He'd never known anyone so beautiful, inside and out, and he didn't know how he was lucky enough to have her as a constant in his life.
"There, all done", she smiled as she let go of his hand and packed away her supplies. When she looked back at Dean, he was looking down at his hands, and a tear fell from his eye to darken a little spot on his bandage. "Hey, what's going on inside that head of yours?" She asked, gently covering his hand with hers. He shook his head and sniffed, looking away from her. "Come on, talk to me, I'm right here", she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, slowly turning his face back to her.
"I was useless today", he said.
"Dean-", she sighed but he cut her off and took his hand back from her, standing up abruptly and forcing her back a little so he could walk away. She stared at him as he started to pace up and down the room. "Dean-", she tried again, but he stopped and glared at her through teary eyes.
"Don't 'Dean' me, okay? I fucked up. I let my guard down, got caught by a fucking witch and watched two people die, knowing I couldn't do shit but wait to be rescued. I'm supposed to save people, I'm not supposed to need saving".
"Dean, how many times have you saved me? Or Sam? Does that make either of us less of a hunter? Does that make either of useless?"
"No, but it's different".
"How exactly is it different? Why can't Dean Winchester need saving sometimes? You're not invincible Dean, you're human. Shit happens. Sometimes everyone needs a little saving. Sometimes you can't save everyone, no matter how good you are". She stood up and walked over to him, looking up at him. He turned his face away from her, but she reached up tentatively to put her hand on his cheek. He didn't resist when she turned his face to look down at her, and once he looked into her eyes, he broke. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her neck as he started to cry quietly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stood there in his embrace, letting him get his emotions out. She was almost afraid to make any movement or say anything, in case it pulled him out of his vulnerability, but after a few minutes she leaned back slightly and looked up at him.
He blinked through his tears and sniffed, then frowned at her. "You're damp", he mumbled, and she couldn't help but laugh quietly.
"Yeah, it's raining".
"I'm sorry".
"For what?" She asked, rubbing his back gently.
"Being like this", he shrugged, "crying and punching things and..." He shook his head as if trying to get rid of his train of thought.
"And what?" She prompted him, tilting her head in curiosity. He paused in contemplation for a moment, glancing between her eyes, feeling comfort when all he saw was sincerity looking back at him. His hands fell to her waist and he held her firmly, pulling her back in closer to his chest.
"And needing you".
He was finally opening up to her, and she sighed in relief, knowing this meant he'd be okay. "I will always be here for you, Dean", she said.
"Is it okay?" He asked, looking down at her, his face suddenly full of worry. "Is it okay that I need you?"
"Dean", she said, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping his tears away. "We all need each other. Sam and I need you, just like you and I need Sam".
"Like Sam and I need you", he nodded, and his hands left her waist to hold her arms, gently squeezing them as if to confirm to himself that she was real, and that she was standing in front of him in that moment. "You're shivering", he noted, "I'll get you some dry clothes". He pulled away from her and went to his bag, routing around and pulling out one of his clean flannels and a pair of sweatpants and handing them to her. "Can you... I mean", he cleared his throat nervously. "If you want to, you can stay in this room tonight. I don't think you should go back out into the rain".
"Is it okay with you if I stay here?" She smiled back at him.
"Yes", he said quickly. "I need you tonight... just uh, you make me feel calm, it's like I struggle to feel angry around you", he chuckled softly.
"You have a similar effect on me".
"Really?"
"Dean, your hugs make everything better".
"Come here", he reached his arm out to her and she put the clothes down onto the bed before going to him and being engulfed in his arms again. He held her tightly this time and she smiled as he kissed the top of her head. "You're still damp", he chuckled, and she felt the vibrations from his chest on the side of her face.
"I don't care", she squeezed him back and closed her eyes, hoping they'd somehow end up sharing a bed so she could stay in his arms for the night. She knew he was going to be okay, and that's all she needed in that moment.
The end
Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32 @livingdead-reilly @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @darthysfanfic @dramatic-long-coats
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supernaturalfreewill · 7 months
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Dean rushed to you as fast as he could and fell beside you on his knees, hurrying to untie the ropes that were binding you so tightly they were cutting into your wrists and ankle. "It's okay! You're okay. Jesus, what the hell did they do to you? I'm so sorry..."
You were weak but conscious and you gave him a small smile as you met his green eyes. "I told them you'd find me," you said. Your throat was dry and your voice came out uncharacteristically raspy. "I told them not to fuck with Dean Winchester."
Dean clasped your face gently, tenderly in both hands. "God, I missed you so much." His eyes wandered over the bruises on your face. "But this really isn't how I wanted us to reunite. Look at you... Can you stand up?"
You nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, if you help me I think I can." You clung onto him and he looped a strong arm behind your back for support. "Did you—? Are they—?"
Dean's jaw tensed. "I took care of it. You're safe. I'm so sorry this happened to you." Regret was woven with his deep voice. "This is my fault... they came after you because of me."
"Dean, if this is the cost of being with you... it's still fucking worth it."
He stopped completely then and kissed you with a yearning and need that was clear. "I'm gonna take care of you," he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face. "You're okay."
"I know," you breathed.
Prompt: "I missed you so much, but this really isn't how I wanted us to reunite."
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my-proof-is-you · 17 days
Text
But God, at what cost?
Imagine: Dean helping you get through your cardio workout
A/N: Literally thought of this when I was at the gym trying to get through a workout. Pretended Dean was cheering me on…is that weird? Ha.
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You were pretty sure almost no one hated running more than you.
You were a bigger person. You always had been. Plus sized, if you will. You were very strong, though. When you hunted, you held your own. 
You didn’t hate your body, either. You weren’t skinny like some of your friends were in high school. You knew none of them could do what you could on hunts, though.
Dean liked your curves, too. He always said he admired your strength and the man damn near worshipped your body in bed. 
But you knew your weakness: cardio. 
It wasn’t very often you had to run for your life. You, Sam and Dean made a great hunting team, so there was rarely a need to run away. 
When you did, though, you lagged behind. That meant that Dean lagged behind, too. He would never leave you to fend for yourself. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want him in danger any more than he wanted you to be.
So that was why you were trying to get better at running even though it was the bane of your existence. You’d been spending time in the bunker gym, using the treadmill Sam had bought for when the weather outside wasn’t conducive to his runs.
You didn’t really want Dean to know what you were doing. It was your own problem, and you wanted to fix it on your own. 
You’d run a few times on your own on the treadmill, and hated every second of it. It put you in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and your boyfriend had definitely noticed. 
You were once again trying to get a run in on the treadmill before the brothers got back from their supply run. Unfortunately, you didn’t time it right.
“Y-Y/N?” Dean asked, entering the gym. He had a shocked look on his face. 
“What?” You huffed, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t hide how much you hated what you were doing.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, coming to stand next to the treadmill with his arms crossed over his chest. 
You rolled your eyes. “Can’t a person run without getting asked a million questions?”
“A person, yes. You…no. Sweetheart, you hate running,” he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. 
“Yeah—well— hate—putting you—in danger—more,” you said while panting.
Dean reached over, pulling the cord that stops the treadmill. 
“Hey!” You exclaimed, slowing to a walk before the belt stopped completely. 
“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. “What danger?”
“I’m slow, Dean,” you said, finally regaining your breath. “I know I am. And I don’t want to be the reason you stay behind and get killed by a monster!”
“First of all, that’s not going to happen. And B, you are one of the best hunters I know. I really think you’re underestimating yourself.”
You sighed. “Regardless, Dean, I could be better, and I want to be.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he studied your face. “This has nothing to do with looks, right? Cause, sweetheart, you know I think you’re perfect the way you are.”
You smiled, despite your exhaustion. “I know that, De. And I promise, it’s not about that. I know I’m hot,” you said with a wink. 
Dean bit his lip, sending a little thrill through to your core. 
“I just want to improve is all,” you said with a shrug. 
“Well, sweetheart, you know how I feel about running, too. I hate it maybe more than you do. But if this is something you want, I will help you,” Dean said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. 
You weren’t sure how he meant to help you, but going it alone wasn’t working. You’d take any help offered at this point.
He watched your face as you tried to understand what he’d do, and he gestured for you to step back on the treadmill. You turned it back on and began jogging. 
After a minute or so, you started to get out of breath and wanted desperately to stop. You looked at Dean, who nodded his head in the direction the treadmill was facing to tell you to keep looking forward. 
“You got this, sweetheart,” he began. He wasn’t yelling it, just speaking with conviction at his normal volume. 
“I’ve seen you go through literal Hell, Y/N. This is nothing. You are so strong.”
His words gave you some confidence. It was nice to hear, especially over the voice in your head that was telling you to quit. 
You went another ten minutes with Dean’s words of encouragement spurring you on before your legs started really aching.
“It—hurts—De—” you panted.
“Just a little more, Y/N/N. And when you’re done, I’m gonna take you to the shower…get you nice and clean,” he said, his voice turning sultry.
“Hm?” You asked, suddenly distracted from your pain. 
“That’s right, baby. Then I’m gonna massage all your sore muscles.”
You felt even more of a blush rising to your cheeks.
“And tomorrow, when you’re all rested, we’re gonna do some cardio together.”
“You—hate—running,” you said, breathless for more than one reason.
“I’m not talking about running, sweetheart.”
You hit your goal of two miles then, and nearly leapt off the treadmill before the belt even stopped. 
“Let’s hit the showers,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the hall. 
Dean followed, chuckling. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
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Forevers:
@divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​  @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27 @sexyvixen7 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @lyarr24 @amelia-song-pond @donnaintx @spnbaby-67 @traceyaudette @gh0stgurl @fiftyshadesgrl @tapedeck-hearts @lacilou @foxyjwls007 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @cumuluscranium
Dean/Jensen:
@harleycao
239 notes · View notes
jessybarnes · 8 months
Text
Bunker Nights
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!
Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean
Betas: @winecatsandpizza
Word Count: 4,667
Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly
A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)
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One year.
It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.
The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation. 
Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.
These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.
Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy. 
You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly. 
The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with. 
Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically. 
“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.” 
You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table. 
“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”
You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer. 
“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”
Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes. 
“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”
Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again. 
“I’m. Fine."
You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.
“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”
All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.
“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”
The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them. 
“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”
You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence. 
“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”
Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings. 
Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves. 
Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep. 
Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted. 
Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door. 
“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”
Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet. 
Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you. 
“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”
His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit. 
“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”
You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.
“Stop! Please, Tyler!”
Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.
“No! Just leave me alone!”
You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features. 
“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”
You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. 
“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”
You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. 
“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”
Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you. 
“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”
Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing. 
“Do you trust me?”
Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.
“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”
He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were. 
Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.
“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”
He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship. 
“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”
You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm. 
“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”
You sighed and shook your head. 
“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”
Dean shook his head and chuckled. 
“So, don’t let it get weird.”
His look went back to firm before he continued. 
“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”
Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor. 
“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”
A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room. 
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly. 
“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”
You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep. 
It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.
He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.
The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.
It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.
“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.
“No nightmares,” you whispered.
“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”
The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.
His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.
“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”
“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”
He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”
You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”
Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -
“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”
“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.
Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”
His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?
Thank you?
Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.
Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.
His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.
Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.
“Talk to me,” he urged softly.
The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.
But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.
Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.
“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”
What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.
You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.
Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.
He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.
“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.
Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.
He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.
“Later,” you promised.
Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”
“Why?”
The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.
“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”
You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.
“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”
“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.
Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.
You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.
“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.
His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.
“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.
The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.
The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.
“Fuck, Y/N -”
“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.
Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.
He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.
Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.
“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”
“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.
The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement. 
A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.
But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.
“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”
He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.
“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”
You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.
All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”
Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.
Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.
“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”
“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”
You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.
When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again. 
“Y/N…”
“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.
His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”
“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”
“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.
You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.
“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”
Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.
“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.
It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.
Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.
Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.
“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.
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815 notes · View notes
lokigonnakmsforbucky · 8 months
Text
Dean Winchester NSFW Alphabet
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We made sammy one, we gotta make dean one! This was also requested by an anonymous user! Enjoy!
Rating: MINORS DNI!! 18++
Warnings: Its NSFW thats a warning enough;)
Like my spn posts? Ask to be on the tag list!
GIF NOT MINE
Check out my masterlist
A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)
Dean is definitely a cuddler, He is always holding you and making sure you are okay. You come first in his mind.
B= Body part (Their favorite body part on themselves and their partners.)
Dean's favorite part of his own body is his smile. He knows he could get what he wants in seconds with one flash of it. On his partner he loves their thighs and mostly when they are around his face ;)
C=Cum (What does he do with it. I AM disgusting)
Dean loves when he sees his cum all over you. Your face, your stomach, but he loves it when it drips out of you.
D=Dirty talk (How much do they dirty talk?)
This Man's mouth is DIRTY, he could get you on your knees in no time.
E=Experience (how experienced are they?)
Dean is definitely experienced to say the least, so rest assured he knows what he is doing.
F=Favorite position (goes without saying)
Cowgirl- Dean is a SUCKER for this position. He loves when you take him how you want him, plus a face full of tits? Yes please.
Doggystyle- Dean loves looking at you taking him, pounding into you to show you who you belong to.
G=Goofy (how goofy or how serious they are in the moment?)
Dean can be goofy or serious. Depending how you both feel or the heat of the moment.
I=Intimacy (How are things during the moment, romantic aspect.)
Deans eyes never leave your body, his hands are on you at every moment.
J=Jack off
Dean gets off at least 4 times a week, his sex drive is high and when he isn’t around you he has to release that frustration. Maybe even calling you for some sexy phone sex ;)
K=Kinks
Dean loves to be dominant with you, but what a lot of people don’t know is that he loves to be dominated by you. He loves when you take control over him and take what you need.
He also has a knife kink… he doesn’t get why he does but just the thought of having it out against your skin or his skin… he loves it.
L=Location (where you guys would do the deed)
Dean would do it anywhere you would be game to do it at, but his favorite is in Baby the sweet 67’ Impala…. Mostly when you give him road head.
M=Motivation (what turns him on, or gets them going)
Dean loves seeing you in his flannels… plus eating pie, having whip cream all over your face? He is ready to pounce.
N=No (Something they wouldn’t do, or turns them off.)
ANYTHING that hurts your or puts you in harms way. You are his world, he won’t let that get hurt.
O=Oral (do they like giving, receiving, both?)
Dean LOVES giving you head, eating you out like a cherry pie. Your his fav flavor though.
Dean loves when you give him head, it relaxes him instantly.
P=Pace (Are they slow? Fast? Rough?)
Depends on Deans mood, he loves taking you rough and fast. But he loves being nice and slow.
Q=Quickie (Their opinion on it, how often would they have one)
Dean is always up for quickies, anytime you both need one he is up and ready.
R=Risk (Are they risky)
In deans line of work, risk is dangerous. But if your down…so is he.
S=Stamina (how long can you last? How many rounds?)
Sessions with a Dean are long, hot, and heavy. You can take 3 rounds but Dean… he can make you do as many rounds he wants.
T=Toys (Do you guys own toys? Do they use them?)
You guys explore with vibrators and sometimes restraints.
U=Unfair (How likely would they tease?)
You would be the one that would be a tease, Dean would definitely have his way with you later ;)
V=Volume (How loud are they)
Dean breathes heavy, low growls and grunts
X=X-ray (what’s going own down there)
Dean is beyond average…he is definitely bigger than most guys.
Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive)
Deans sex drive is VERY high, you can’t deny that.
Z=ZZZ (how fast he would fall asleep)
Dean would wait till you were taking care of and asleep before even getting comfortable. You come first.
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uhohnotthisagain · 2 months
Text
What they didn’t see
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Summary: Just your classic friends to lovers with some good old fashioned angst.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Characters: Dean, Sam, Vampire
Warnings: mention of injury, angst, pining, fighting, weapons, swearing.
Word count: 2.0k
a/n: Enjoy, I hope it’s ok x
My masterlist
“Hey.” You walk into the motel room with two bags full of food. “I’ve got dinner.”
“Oh my god, you’re amazing.” Dean rushes towards you to grab the bags. “Did you get any -” “Yea, it's in this bag.” You point to the bag with the pie in it, sitting down on the couch next to Sam as Dean grabs a chair to sit opposite the two of you. Sam smirked at the pink tint that had appeared on your face.
As the three of you dig in, you can’t help but admire Dean as he devours his burger before moving on to the pie. What most people would find disgusting, watching his messily eat his food, you found it oddly pleasing. Sam nudges you, and when you turn to look at him, all he does is smirk, prompting you to roll your eyes at him before focusing on your own burger.
You had known the Winchester’s for years. Your father and John used to hunt together, leaving the three of you at the motel. When your father was killed by a vampire, it made sense for you to stay with them, seeing as you had no where else to go. As you grew up, feelings towards Dean began to grow, but you pushed them away. He only ever saw you as a little sister anyway. Nothing was ever going to happen.
“I think we should head out early tomorrow, I think there’s a potential case a few states over. It’ll be a days drive so lets turn in early.” Dean says as he finishes up. “I call first shower.”
As the bathroom door shuts, Sam starts chucklying. “Shut up!” You whisper to him, shoving him nonchalantly. “Oh come on. I’m shocked he still hasn’t noticed. You’re so obvious.”
You roll your eyes. “No I’m not. But even if I am, he doesn’t care about me like that. Nothing is ever going to happen.”
“Sure.” It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Dean, please can you just shut the music off for 5 minutes? I’m trying to concentrate.” Sam practically yells over the music that Dean is blasting. “What? I can’t hear you over the music.” You roll your eyes and shake your head at the two of them, going back to your own research on the case.
Sam reaches forward to turn the music down enough so he can be heard, Dean slapping his hand in the process. “By the looks of it, I think its a vampire nest. Not two many killings at once so shouldn’t be a huge nest, no more than 5 or 6.” You nodded, finalising the readings you had occupied yourself with before closing the lore book. You stared out the window, nodding along to the music that filled the otherwise silent Impala.
While you were watching the trees run past, Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He tried to avoid lingering, quickly turning his gaze back to the road in front.
-
In a few short hours, you had arrived to a motel. Dean handed you your bag, whispering a soft “Thank you.” at the gesture, which Dean responded with a small smile.
As you walked in, you noticed that there were only two beds, no pull out couch which was often where you slept. “I am not dealing with your flailing about tonight, Y/N.” Sam says, looking at you with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“It’s alright, I don’t mind the occasional kicking. Sleep next to me.” Dean calls from behind you. Your eyes widen at the realization that you’re going to have to sleep next to Dean. You hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in years, often opting for the sofa or next to Sam.
As you got ready in the bathroom, you took a deep breath as you prepared yourself. “You can do this, it’s one night.” You whispered to yourself, turning to open the door and head to bed. Dean was already in bed, sat up with headphones on, eyes closed and nodding to the beat of whatever music he was listening. You crawled into the other side of the bed, facing away from Dean, closest to the edge. You quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping you didn’t end up kicking or bothering Dean in anyway.
-
You woke up in the same position, however seemingly closer to the middle of the bed. An arm was draped across your waist. Dean.
It suddenly dawned on you that it was his arm around you, holding you in place. You gently picked up his arm, climbed out of bed and placed in onto a pillow, hoping it wouldn’t disturb his sleep.
The door opened and Sam walked through, having just come back from his run.
“Hey.” You smiled in return, collecting your things to get ready for the day. “I figured we can scope out where the nest is this morning, and get ready to attack just after dark.” Sam suggests. “Sounds good.”
Dean starts stirring, rolling over in bed. You rush to the bathroom, hoping to avoid an interaction just yet. You hear them talking as you have your shower, but you ignore them, focusing on the water falling down your body.
-
“So how was last night?” Sam smirked at me. “Shut up.” Dean responds, rubbing his face as he sits up in bed. “I did that for you, you know.”
“What? Have her sleep next to me? She’s not even interested. I don’t see why I have to be tortured with it.” Dean grumbles.
“Bullshit, she’s in love with you.” Dean rolls his eyes, “She snuck out of bed. She couldn’t even stand to talk to me this morning. There is no way on earth she likes me as anything more than a friend. Barely that even.”
“Dean, you do not see what I do.” Sam scoffs. “It’s obvious that you both love each other, why neither of you have made a move? I have no idea.”
Dean just brushes him off, getting up and stretching.
-
After you're dressed, you walk out of the bathroom, which Sam quickly takes custody of as soon as he sees you. “Gonna have a shower now.”
“Morning.” You say softly to Dean, who responds only with a grunt, still waking up. “I’m going to go grab breakfast and coffee, any requests?” You offer.
“Just the usual.” Dean responds. You nod, grabbing a key a walking out the door.
-
Later, after you’ve scoped out the nest and feel ready to attack, the three of you are parked outside the warehouse where they’re located.
“Right, let’s go in and split up, we’ll get them quicker that way. Be safe everyone.” Dean says before heading towards the entrance, you and Sam quickly in tow.
The fight began almost immediately. There were more vampires than you thought, at every turn, a vampire was charging towards you.
You swung the knife every which way you could with all your strength. You could hear Sam and Dean fighting more in other areas of the building.
Finally, it seemed that you had gotten them all. You went to check on Sam and Dean. As you turned a corner, before you could even react properly, another vampire charged at you. He lunged at you, causing you to drop your knife.
You screamed as he threw you against the wall, walking towards you as you lay on the ground.
“I will kill you for what you and your little friends did.” He picked you up and threw you against the wall behind him, hitting your head hard against the concrete floor as you landed. You groaned in pain, unable to fight any more.
“Y/N!” You heard someone yell. The room was spinning and you couldn’t find the strength to stand up. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The vampire had its hand around your throat, fangs out ready to unleash his final attack.
The weight on your body was pulled off, and you could finally breathe, but you couldn’t move. You heard one final scream before silence, and then footsteps hurriedly running towards you.
“Y/N? Shit Y/N can you hear me? It’s ok baby we’re here, we’ve got you.” You groaned in response, before everything went black.
-
“Fuck, she passed out. Sammy, go start the car, quick.” Sam runs out to the car as Dean picks you up and carries you out.
Once in the car, he’s looking all over, trying to find all of your injuries to see if he could fix anything.
At the motel, he lays you down on the bed whilst Sam grabs the first aid kit, cleaning up any wounds that can be fixed.
“Sammy what do we do. She’s not waking up.” Dean has tears in his eyes. Sam puts two fingers on the side of your neck.
“She still has a strong pulse, she’s going to be ok. She’s breathing, just knocked out hard.” Dean’s holding your hand the entire time, refusing to look away from your battered and bruised, yet still unbelievably beautiful face.
“I haven’t told her. I didn’t tell her how I feel. What happens if she doesn’t wake up?”
Sam pats his brothers shoulder, “She’s going to wake up. She will be ok. Both of you will be.”
-
What seemed like days, was really only a few hours later, you started to wake up. You opened your eyes and looked around at your surroundings. You spot Sam laying in his bed, asleep. You look down at your hand, in a tight grip in Dean’s hand. He was asleep too, next to you. He was on top of the covers, still in his blood-soaked clothes and shoes.
As you moved, you groaned, feel sharp pain in your head. “Fuck that kills.”
Dean wakes up startled, feeling movement coming from you. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He whispers. “Like I got hit by a truck, train and car simultaneously.” You respond.
He lets out a small chuckle, thumb running over the back of your hand.
“I know it’s really bad timing but can I talk to you?” He asks. You nod, smiling as encouragement to keep going.
“Um, so the thing is, I, um.” He lets out a breath, now sitting up to look down at you. “I like you, a lot. And it’s ok if you don’t like me back. I thought I could keep it to myself, I thought it was just a stupid thing that would go away. But it hasn’t. And seeing you tonight, all beat up and unconscious. It scared me. I thought I might’ve lost you. And I just needed you to know. You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t have to change anything, we can stay friends. Or you can leave, it’s up to-“
You place a hand on his cheek, leaning up to press a small peck on his lips. Testing the waters. As you pull away, he follows you, reconnecting your lips. This time, in a much deeper, more passionate kiss. One full of longing, and desperation. You could feel your lungs burn, but couldn’t seem to care, kneading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The one hand not holding his up is resting on your hip.
When you finally pull away for a breath, you stare into his eyes. “I like you too, like a lot.” He sighs. “Really? Are you sure.”
You giggle, “Beyond sure.” You press one final kiss to his lips before settling down, resting your head on his shoulder, arm around his waist while his is wrapped around you, hand on your waist while the other one is playing with the ends of you hair.
-
When you wake up the next morning, you feel warm, content. Taking a deep breath in, you see that you and Dean are in the same position you fell asleep in.
“Thank fuck!” You look to see Sam smiling at the two of you.”It’s about fucking time.” You flip him off, settling back down to lay with Dean some more before you had to get up.
“How are you feeling?” You hear Dean whisper. You look up at him. “I’m ok. Still in pain but it’s better.”
“Good. We’ll let you rest up a bit before getting back out there. I’m glad you’re ok.” He kisses your forehead. “Yeah me too.” You smile up at him.
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imagineteamfreewill · 4 months
Text
Cursed
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Title: Cursed
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings: Brief heavy drinking, suggested dub con (nothing actually happens besides PG-13 touching, but more is suggested and the reader does not want to participate), cursed Dean, language, angst, a little fluff
Summary: Dean’s cursed after a witch hunt and Sam and Y/N are left to deal with the consequences.
A/N: This is a super random one shot I started writing in 2018 that I just recently found in an old WIP folder. I’ve changed it a lot from what it originally started as, but I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless. As always, thanks for reading and for supporting me in all the ways you do!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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“Dean,” you sigh. You steal the sweaty, half-drunk beer bottle from his hand. “You can’t just drink until you black out!”
He rolls his eyes at you, pulling another bottle from the paper carton beside him. It’s already empty and he huffs in annoyance, setting it aside before grabbing the fourth and final beer from its slot.
“Dean!”
He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pry the top off the bottle and take a long swig, then let out a satisfied sigh. The bottle cap clatters to the concrete beneath his pool chair. He smacks his lips and you try to disguise your disgust, even if he won’t care either way.
Frustrated, you stomp back to the motel room and push the door open, slamming your room key and the bottle you’d taken away on the table in front of Sam. The door hits the door jamb on the wall before bouncing back and slamming shut with a bang.
“Your brother is going to be the end of me!” you growl. 
Sam looks up, eyebrows raised as he tries to transition his mind from the lore he’s been reading to what you’ve said. “Hmm?”
You groan and run a hand through your hair, inwardly praying for some patience, then look back down at him. “I said,” you begin, unable to even vaguely disguise how you feel, “that your brother is slowly annoying me to death! Please tell me that you have a cure, or at least a counter-curse! I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”
“I haven’t found anything so far,” Sam replies, shaking his head apologetically. He reaches for the beer bottle and you snatch it away, grinding your teeth in frustration. Though you want to take a sip of it yourself to make the next few hours—or days, depending on how long it takes you and Sam to find a cure—easier, you grip it hard in one hand for a second before sighing and putting it back on the edge of the table. Just because Dean was drinking himself to death, doesn’t necessarily mean that his younger brother had to suffer.
“Just… Just figure something out. I need to go back to keeping an eye on Mister R&R out there.” You gesture towards the door, then press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re exhausted; not only had yesterday’s witch hunt been nothing more than a dead end, but somehow, Dean managed to get himself cursed. It’s up to you and Sam to find the witch and a cure, and Dean’s no help. The curse has left him incapable of doing any actual work, instead convincing him that all he should do for the rest of his life is relax. All you’ve done for the last day and a half is chase after him to make sure that he doesn’t break any laws or get himself hurt.
“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise,” Sam reassures. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? Maybe we can convince Dean to come relax in here. If we’re lucky, he might sleep, too. Sleeping isn’t work—if we spin it the right way he might go for it.”
You nod wearily and pick up the beer again. You dump its contents down the bathroom drain before tossing the empty bottle in the plastic trash can. “Are there any more of those in here?” you ask, heading back out to the main part of the room.
Sam turns in his seat to glance around the room, then shakes his head. “Nope. I think Dean got ‘em all already.” He closes his laptop and pushes the chair back from the table, standing and grabbing your keycard. “You take a shower and I’ll go get Dean. You look like hell.”
Snorting, you send Sam a grateful look and go over to your duffel, where you pull out your bag of toiletries and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. After a second of thought, you grab a pair of shorts, just in case he’s feeling grabby. “Gee, thanks.”
The sound of the door closing is Sam’s response. You shut your eyes for a second, soaking in the still, peaceful silence of the room before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It’s the first time since yesterday morning that you’ve been alone, and it’s the first time it’s been so quiet, too.
Minutes later, you’re scrubbing yourself down and ignoring the way that the dirty water pools around your feet as you rinse away the grime from the past two days. It feels good to finally be clean. You’re just rinsing off your face and hair when you hear the bathroom door open and you freeze, carefully peeking open an eye to stare at the frosted white shower curtain. The person on the other side doesn’t move, nor do they make a sound.
“Sam?” you ask after a second. “Is that you?”
“Guess again,” Dean replies, a bit too cheerily for your liking.
You can only see his vague silhouette through the shower curtain, but you can clearly picture the arrogant smirk on his face. It’s been one of the few expressions on his face since he’d been cursed. The others in the rotation have left you equally as irritated.
Pursing your lips, you quickly finish rinsing off and turn the knob to shut off the water. “Hand me my towel,” you say, sticking a hand out around the curtain. It’s a request you’ve made many times in the past, yet now it comes out harsher, more like an order or a command than a simple task.
“Why? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Dean counters.
You sigh, your arm dropping slightly as you keep it held out. “Dean, come on. This isn’t you. Please just hand me my towel.”
“Of course it’s me,” he says. “I’m just wondering why my girl won’t let me see her wet and naked. We could have a lot of fun that way…” His fingertips brush your forearm as his silhouette moves closer, and you snatch your arm back.
“You’re cursed, Dean. We’ve talked about this. Now please, hand me my towel.” Dean only hums in response and you growl quietly to yourself before yelling, “Sam! Sam, get in here!”
A moment later, the bathroom door squeaks open again and you hear Sam shout in annoyance.
“Jesus Christ, Dean! Put on some clothes!”
“Of course he’s naked,” you mumble under your breath. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
Dean chuckles and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to slip and fall. The chill from the bathroom has started to set in now that you’re no longer under hot water, and goosebumps have broken out over your damp skin. You shiver.
“Sam,” you call, a little louder so you can be certain that he’ll hear you. “Sam, please just hand me my towel. Your idiot brother refuses to.”
You feel the rough fabric in your hand as soon as you stick your arm out again, and you quickly yank it inside the shower with you before Dean can snatch it. After wrapping it around yourself, you pull the shower curtain open to find Dean buttoning his jeans, his upper half still bare.
“Thanks for putting pants on,” you say, pushing him out of the way so that you can get to the sink. Hopefully, your praise will incentivize him to do what you ask. Maybe he’ll be more willing to nap that way. It’s only a thread of hope, but you’ll cling to it until it breaks.
You wipe the fog off the mirror with your hand and peer at your reflection for a second before grabbing your comb and starting to comb out your hair, shivering when cold water drips onto your bare shoulders.
“Let me do that,” Dean says. He grabs the comb before you can answer and picks up where you left off, leaving you to hold up your towel in silence. His hands are gentle and for a moment, you forget that he’s cursed. This is something he does for you all the time. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares for you, even when he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts or when the two of you are too tired to even talk.
When the thought pops into your head, however, you begin to analyze the situation, trying to figure out exactly how this is helping Dean relax. So far, he’s only done things that help him relax, not others, which means that this somehow has to be more beneficial to him than it is to you.
Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach up and take the comb from his hands, ignoring the spark of electricity that runs up your arm when your skin brushes against his. “Why are you doing this?” you ask, crossing your arms over the top of your towel as you turn to face him.
Dean shrugs, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind you. His expression seems more normal than it has since the witch hunt, and you grip the edge of the towel a little tighter, watching him carefully. Has the curse been broken somehow?
“Dunno. I like playing with your hair, I guess.” A familiar, lazy smile crosses his face as he meets your eyes a second later, and he takes a step forward so his hips pin yours against the bathroom counter. “Plus, I know what happens when you get relaxed and you feel taken care of.”
Scoffing, you push Dean off of you and toss the comb down, then grab your shirt and shorts off the counter. “Get out. I need to change. Go…” You pause, frantically wracking your brain for some suggestion he might actually go for. “Go wait for me in bed, okay? Yeah? I’ll come join you in a minute.” You hope that your words sound promising enough, even if you don’t really plan on doing anything with him while he’s cursed. You couldn’t stomach it.
Dean dips his head to stare down at you with the same lazy, drunk smile on his face as before.  “Okay. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart. Don’t take too long.”
He slips out the door, finally leaving you alone, and you quickly push the door shut and flip the lock—something you should’ve done in the first place. You shudder, then glance at your phone on the counter. 
“Come on,” you mutter. “Anything is better than this.”
Reluctantly, you force yourself to pick up the phone and send a short, carefully worded text before setting it aside and changing into your clean clothes. Rowena’s response comes just as soon as you’re dressed, and you close your eyes when you read her message, relieved. After forwarding it to Sam, you carry your things out to the main room, only to find that Dean’s just where he had promised he would be. A quick glance around the room shows that Sam has chosen to make himself scarce, and you silently curse his name in every language you know.
“Hey there, Y/N,” Dean drawls, directing your attention back to him. His jeans are unbuttoned again, though not unzipped, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of his half-naked frame sprawled out on the bed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You need to sleep, and you figure that if Dean is sleeping, he can’t get into any trouble. It’s getting him to sleep that will be the problem.
“Hey,” you casually reply. You set your things down in your bag, taking a minute to rearrange them with your back to Dean. You hear noise coming from the bed as you plug your phone in on the TV stand and you slow your movement, listening as Dean moves the pillows and blankets around to his liking. When you turn around again, the extra pillows are all on the floor and he’s settled in the middle of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he regards you with a cocky smile.
“You gonna come over here or what?”
Forcing a smile of your own, you cross the room and grab a pillow off the floor, then crawl into bed with Dean. His hands immediately go for your hips in an attempt to pull you on top of him, but you push them away.
“Roll over,” you say, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. “Let me give you a massage first.”
Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly liking your suggestion, then moves over to lay on his stomach. You get to work, doing your very best to get him to relax as much as possible.
You must’ve massaged Dean’s back and shoulders for an hour before you finally hear him let out a soft snore. Your hands are sore, but relief floods you and you carefully move to the opposite edge of the bed and lay on your stomach. You close your eyes, desperately hoping that you’ll fall asleep quickly so you can get as much rest as possible before he awakes.
When you wake up, you can hear Dean arguing with Sam, their voices hushed despite the anger lacing their words. Slowly, you open your eyes and lie still, listening. You’ve rolled over onto your side in your sleep, so you can stare at the wall and watch their shadows as they argue.
“Dean, you can’t go out right now. Y/N is sleeping and I’m not going with you,” Sam huffs. He’s all at once placating and annoyed with his older brother, the same way a parent who’s fed up with their child’s antics might speak. “I have better things to do than pick up chicks at a bar, including finding something to help break whatever curse you’re under.”
“I don’t need your help, Sammy. I’m fine! And I’m not going to a bar, I’m just going to get some food from the taco place down the street!”
“Really? You’re not cursed? Is that why you were taking up most of the bed and Y/N’s only got the edge? Because that’s not like you, man. You’ve been acting differently since we got back yesterday.”
“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean hisses. “Just drop it.”
You listen intently for whatever Sam has to say in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out anything. After a minute, the door to the parking lot opens, then slams shut. You don’t hear Sam go after his brother, nor do you hear anyone moving around the room, and you frown against your pillow. 
Confused, you sit up in bed and rub your eyes before going over to the window, carefully pulling the curtain away from the edge so you can peek outside. It’s pitch black outside. You hadn’t glanced at the clock on the nightstand as you’d crawled out of bed, but you’re certain it’s the middle of the night. You’d slept for almost eight hours, which is practically a miracle.
The boys are just outside the door, on the walkway that runs from the motel office and past every room, all the way to the end of the building. They’re still arguing, but Sam looks more shocked than frustrated. The parking lot lights flicker for a second, and when they come back on, you realize that both Sam and Dean are staring at you.
Feeling a bit guilty that you were caught eavesdropping, you drop the curtain. Then, you step over to the door and pull it open so you can stand in the doorway. Though it’s dark out, Sam and Dean are close enough where you can see them clearly in the overhead lights, and you look between them.
“Is everything okay?” you ask.
The two brothers glance at each other, their unspoken conversation ending with Dean’s shoulders slumping, before Sam bitterly answers, “Dean has something he’d like to tell you.”
“Okay…” You turn your attention to Dean, unsure of what to expect.
It takes him a minute to speak up. “I, uh… I wasn’t cursed.”
You stare at him for a second, trying to understand how his behavior the past 36 hours lines up with that statement. “What?”
“There’s no curse. I wasn’t cursed before, and I’m not cursed now. I’m fine,” he says.
Anger is starting to rise up into your chest and you clench your hands into fists. Slowly, in a way you hope will get you the clearest answer possible, you reply, “What do you mean there was no curse? If there’s no curse, then why have you been acting the way you have?”
Dean has the decency to look ashamed, and he looks away to stare at the window leading into the motel office. The employee manning the front desk looks asleep, with one hand propping his head up on the laminate countertop. The vacancy sign in the window flickers. Sam leaves and heads to the Impala, but you only spare him a glance. A few moments later, the car starts up and drives off toward the main part of town. 
“I don’t know. I needed a break from the responsibilities. I wanted to live like there was nothing to worry about, just for a day,” Dean tells you after the parking lot returns to silence once more.
You can’t decide if you’re more shocked at the revelation that he’s not cursed, angry that he’s done what he did, or saddened that Dean felt the way he had, yet he hadn’t felt like he could talk to you about it. You would’ve given him the best day off ever, had you known that’s what he needed. Instead, he’s taken advantage of you and his brother, and he’s treated you poorly in the process. He’s acted like a complete and total selfish asshole.
“I can’t believe you,” you finally scoff. You cross your arms over your chest, but you drop them back down to your sides almost immediately. Angry tears fill your eyes. “You are so selfish! If you had just said something, we could’ve done whatever you’d wanted, but instead, you had to act like you’d been cursed! We were worried sick, Dean!”
You step forward into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I was terrified that we’d never find a cure, and the way you treated me?” You scoff again and shake your head. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Dean! I can’t believe you’d treat me like that. I can’t believe you’d treat Sam like that! Do you know that we were this close to making a deal with Rowena?” You bring your hand up between his face and yours, holding your thumb and index finger only an inch apart to emphasize your point. “This close!”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice quiet. He stares down at the sidewalk.
You drop your hand back down your side. “Are you?”
He nods and lifts his head to look up at you. In any other situation, you might’ve broken at the grief in his eyes, but you’re too furious to back down now.
“Y/N, you gotta believe me! If I’d known how out of hand this was going to get, I wouldn’t have done it, but by the time I realized how far I’d taken it, it was too late! I hadn’t thought of a way to get rid of the fake curse without it being too big of an issue, so I had to keep rolling with it.”
You shake your head again, shocked and disgusted that he’d done something so drastic. Throwing up both your hands, you take a step back towards the motel room. “You had to keep rolling with it? I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now! I’m going back to bed.” You turn and start to dig for your keycard in your pajama pocket, even though you know it��s not there.
“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“You know, I honestly don’t even know if I want to talk to you,” you snap, turning to face him again. “And I’m not sure that there even is a way for you to make this up to me, Dean. This is so far beyond the realm of things that you could’ve done that I can’t even wrap my brain around it!”
You stomp back to the motel room door and yank on the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge, and you let out a shriek of frustration. Dean silently offers you his keycard, holding it by your hand though he stands just beyond your view. You snatch it from him and shove it into the slot above the handle. When the light turns green, you shove the door open and step inside, then slam it behind you again, leaving the Dean standing alone on the walkway.
Though you’d said you were going back to bed, you’re too riled up to sleep, so you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for your second shower of the day. Thankfully, this is the nicest motel you’ve had in a while. The water pressure may not be great, but the hot water lasts for a long time and there’s nothing suspicious growing anywhere in the bathroom. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and toss your stuff onto the vanity, ignoring it when it slides into the sink instead of staying on the countertop.
As you stand under the hot spray of the shower, you stare hard at the wall. You half-listen to the room, too, just in case Sam or Dean comes back in after you, but mostly you let yourself stew.
Dean’s a great guy. He’s an even better boyfriend, despite all his flaws; he’s attentive, kind, protective (to a fault), and he makes you laugh. He knows when to be gentle and when to leave things be, especially when you’re in a mood. You love him. That thought makes you frown harder, and you cross your arms over your bare chest. You love Dean, but he’s treated you so poorly that you can only doubt if he loves you in the same way. Surely someone couldn’t do something so horrid to someone they loved?
One of the boys knocks on the door and you ignore them. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard them enter the room. When they knock again, you roll your eyes and drop your arms, then grab the conditioner.
“What?” you snap.
“Sam came back. We’re going out to get some food. Do you want your usual?” Dean asks.
Huffing, you squirt a handful of conditioner into your palm and close the bottle, and you practically slam it onto the shelf in the shower. It immediately slips off and clatters to the floor, narrowly missing your foot. You curse and leave it there.
“Y/N?” Dean asks again.
“Sure! Fine! Whatever, Dean! Get whatever you want for me, I don’t care!”
“Y/N—”
“Just leave me alone? Okay?”
There’s silence on the other side of the door, and you think for a second that Dean’s actually done what you’ve asked for the first time since the hunt, but then he asks,
“Do you need a break? From me?”
You pause, your hands frozen where they’ve been working the conditioner into your hair, and you stare at the shower curtain for a moment or two while you think over Dean’s words. 
“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “I’m angry, and I’m really fucking hurt. Do you know how exhausted I was, Dean? How worried I was that the second I stopped making sure you didn’t do something stupid, you’d get hurt or arrested? I didn’t shower after the hunt, and I’ve barely eaten anything.
“And when you came in here while I was showering earlier? I was so scared you’d do something that you couldn’t truly agree to. And then, for a minute, when you combed my hair, it was like everything was normal again. I guess it was normal, but I didn’t know that then, did I? And then, after a while, I thought you were doing it just to come onto me, and you played that up. You made me so uncomfortable, Dean, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop you from doing something if you were really dead set on having sex with me. If you’d really been cursed, you wouldn’t have been in your right mind to agree to anything, and I would’ve had to live with that thought if something had actually happened! I was so terrified of that, and yet the whole time you were just pretending! Like it was a game to you, or something!”
There’s a strangled noise from the other side of the door and you close your eyes, hands trembling. Dean doesn’t speak again for a minute. When there’s only silence, you start rinsing out your hair, and then you turn off the shower and grab your towel from the bar.
“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Dean says, startling you as you reach for your comb. It’s exactly where you’d left it last night, after you’d thrown it aside. You stand on the cheap bath mat, holding the tiny plastic comb as you wait for Dean to continue.
“I probably never will, but I want to try. I know I’ve messed up, and I know I did horrible things. You have no idea how horrible I feel and how sick it makes me that I made you so uncomfortable. I should’ve stopped right away. I shouldn’t have even pretended to want that from you. If you can’t forgive me for what I did and how I made you feel, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you alone forever, but I love you, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what got into me.”
“This isn’t like you, Dean,” you interject, quieter than before. You feel deflated after his speech. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he says, almost pleading with you, as if you have all the answers. You wish you did.
You lean sideways against the door. It’s cold against your shoulder and you hold the towel tighter, staring at your blurred reflection in the foggy mirror. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?” 
“I don’t know. I should’ve. My head’s messed up and I was afraid you wouldn’t react the way I needed you to.”
“It’s okay to feel scared when you talk about how you feel, but we’ve gotta be honest with each other if this is going to work. You have to be honest with the person you’re dating, no matter what. That’s a big thing, Dean.”
“I know.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
The two of you stand there in silence, each of you on opposite sides of the door. Finally, you straighten up and turn the handle. It unlocks automatically and you pull the door open to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks shocked that you’re facing him so soon, and though his eyes flicker down at the white towel you’re still wearing, he mostly just holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying, and though he’d mentioned that Sam was back, the room is silent.
“This kind of thing can never happen again,” you tell him firmly. “If it does, I’m out. I’m telling Sam that, too, so that if you pull something like this again and then try to find me, he can stop you.”
Dean nods. His voice breaks as he replies, “That’s fair. You deserve to be with someone who’s good for you, even if it’s not me.”
“And we have to talk about how we’re feeling, even if it’s hard. Maybe we should come up with a plan for when you feel this way.” Dean nods again and you look down at the comb in your hands. You pause for a second to collect your thoughts. “Dean, I’m still angry with you, and I probably will be for at least a little while, but I’m also hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to me. I know Sam probably is too, but I do understand how you feel. You’re not alone in this.”
“I know that now,” he softly answers.
You look up. “Do you?”
He nods. “I’m sorry,” Dean repeats.
“I know.” You look back at the comb, then up at him again. “You can start by combing out my hair and braiding it in those fancy braids you pretend not to know how to do.” You hold out the comb and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You wanna fix things? This is step one, Dean.”
He sighs and takes the comb, his shoulders slumped dramatically. There’s a hint of his normal self in his expression now. You step further into the bathroom to allow him room to stand behind you.
Dean’s hands are gentle as he begins to comb out your wet hair. You glance up at him in the mirror. He catches your eye almost right away, then smiles slightly. You smile back, just enough for him to see it before he focuses back on your hair, the first olive branch that you’ve extended him.
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Text
Imagine...Jealous Sex With Dean
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Summary: Someone’s a little jealous after a night out at the bar...
Pairing: Dean x reader
Square: Free Space
Word Count: 512
Warnings: language, m/f smut
A/N: Written for @spnkinkbingo​
“What was that tonight?” asked Dean, a dangerous simmer in his voice as he slammed the motel door shut behind him.
“Oh, come on,” you said, popping out your hip. “I was not flirting with the guy. I was being nice.”
“You’re mine,” said Dean, crossing the room in two steps, pressing his body against yours. “All of this? This belongs to me, no one else.”
“It’s not my fault if you got jealous,” you said, smirking and crossing your arms. Dean’s hands shot up to them and pinned them to your sides.
“You want to go home with that guy?” asked Dean, low and gravely, his lips brushing against your ear.
“Never, Dean, you know I’m...” you said, stopping before you said it, said what he wanted to hear. “I’m not giving in that easy this time.”
Dean had you whining and whimpering beneath him as he thrust into you half an hour later, hard and deep, his hips never faltering. Each time you got close to orgasm, backing off before you could fall over that edge.
“Say it,” said Dean. “Tell me.” Your resolve was breaking, the need to come too much and you knew you’d helped Dean get it out of his system, that the words meant more now if he pulled them from you.
“Yours,” you whimpered. “Always yours, Dean.”
He rewarded you by thrusting inside you roughly, pumping inside a few times before he leaned down and kissed you, rolling his hips so his cock brushed your g-spot. He did it over and over again, winding you up higher and higher, your legs wrapped around his slim waist in a death grip. He groaned as he came first and you followed shortly after with his silent permission, both of you panting as Dean rolled to the side and took your hand in his.
“Y/N, I need to admit something,” said Dean a tired, lazy smirk on his face. You raised an eyebrow “I was never even jealous, not really. I know who we each belong to. But I know how much you love the sex when you think I am, trying to prove me wrong.” He tickled the inside of your thigh, lightly moving the tips of his fingers over the delicate skin. 
Oh if he wanted to play it like that, you were more than welcome to join in.
“Dean,” you said, sitting upright, getting you second wind. “Tell me,” you said, smiling as you looked down at him. “Who do you belong to?”
Oh yeah, it was one of those nights.
Now it was his turn.
“You know I break easier than you,” said Dean, letting you manhandle his hands above his head, telling him to leave them there.
“Want to give in yet?” you asked, trailing a finger down his cheek and neck, his chest inhaling sharply as you moved your way down his body.
“Not a chance,” he said, biting back a smile as he shut his eyes, more than happy to let you do whatever you wanted to him.
“That’s my guy.”
_________
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1000roughdrafts · 29 days
Note
Fic request!: Dean and Reader have been engaged for a long time and are waiting for the perfect time to finally get married. On what should have been an easy hunt with the brothers and Cas, reader is mortally wounded and in their last moments together, Cas marries them (I mean, angels should have that authority right? lol) as Reader dies in Dean's arms?
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: slight violence, dying!reader, blood, slight gore, angst
Dean X FemReader
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We round the corner of an abandoned building, and not even this fierce wind could break the dark, thick fog of tension that sits among the three of us. Neither I nor the Winchesters have a clue what we're up against, or if they do, they haven't filled me in. I just know it's demonic and killing innocent people.
We haven't exactly been getting along lately, and if not for the danger that constantly looms around us, I'd have made a joke to Dean about acting like a married couple before we could even tie the knot. But the worst part about the frustration that we feel is the impulsivity that comes with it. The pissing contest of heading into hunts we know we're not prepared for, but are too damn prideful to say so. And somehow the anger leads us to believe we're stronger than we actually are.
I want to convince them to turn around and leave, but I realize that it's too late when Dean kicks down the door, his gun aiming every which way before his foot could even land back on the ground. Leaves rustle under Sam's quick steps as he follows behind Dean like a dutiful soldier. I'm told to stay close, but I'm immediately distracted by the smell of something rotting and the graffiti on the wilting walls. There are words like 'kill', 'die' and 'run' written in red and the hair on the back of my neck stands.
“Y/N!" Dean quietly shouts.
I jolt to look in his direction. He motions with furrowed brows and two fingers for me to move in, and I reflexively roll my eyes. I realize I'd been absentmindedly twisting my engagement ring around my finger.
We shouldn't be here. I know it, so why don't they? Or do they and they just don't care? I stare at Sam internally begging him to turn my way, for him to see the fear in my eyes and help me convince Dean that we should leave, tell him that something just doesn't feel right, but when he does look my way he only shoots a sympathetic smile. I roll my eyes again.
Anxiety clouds me. My chest feels tight, and air feels thin. My vision gets blurry, and I can feel the anger inside of me trying to claw it's way to the top, but all the while I can feel myself weaken, my guard down. I carry on, walking towards where the brothers are and I can smell my threat before I see it. Sulfur. I quickly turn to attack, but feel a piercingly sharp pain in my side.
With a yelp, I instinctively place my hand over the area that burns to hold pressure on it, but it scares me how wet my hand feels, and when I pull my it up I can see that it's drenched in blood.
I manage to croak out Dean's name before I fall to my knees, collapsing on the ground. The last thing I see before my world goes black is Dean kneeling down next to me, repeatedly and terrifyingly shouting my name as Sam fights off whatever it was that attacked me.
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Laughter echoed in the halls of the bunker as Dean chased after me. We ended the game in our room, and trapped between Dean and the wall I had no choice but to succumb to him. Roping me in his arms, he tickled me until I begged through tears and a smile to be let go.
When I could catch my breath, my eyes met his gaze, and the whole world stopped around me. I took a few steps back to drop onto the bed, watching Dean as he plopped down next to me. I felt warmth throughout my entire body as he leaned to kiss me.
I could just explode I was so overwhelmed with love for him and for this moment, that when he pulled away I couldn't control my voice. "Marry me, Winchester." And my eyes widened when he quickly sat up.
He propped himself up on his arm, "what?" he said with one eyebrow raised.
"I'm serious, Dean," I chuckled, sitting up to turn my body towards him. I placed my hand on his leg, feeling him relax under it, "I have never felt the way that I do about you, for anyone. We have no idea when our last days are going to be, and in this line of work it could be tomorrow for all we know. I can't bear the thought of dying without you as my husband."
---
I hear my name in Dean's voice from a distance, but I'm surrounded by total darkness. I try so hard with all of my might to tell him I'm here, that it's okay, but the words don't come. It takes all of my strength to open my eyes, but they burn. Everything burns. I don't even try to suppress the scream that bellows out of me.
Taking as deep of a breath as I can, I'm scared for myself when it sounds and feels like I'm breathing a water and air mixture. "What's happening?" I manage to say, but Dean puts a finger to my lips.
"No, no," he soothes, "no, don't talk. It's okay," he says so gently, and as he maneuvers me into his lap I cry out in agonizing pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, then his voice switches into a shaky, fear filled command at Sam to call 911 followed by a yell for Castiel that hurts my heart almost as much as my wound hurts.
I feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness, but I'm brought back every time by Dean shaking my body in his arms, "hey, no! Stay with me, Y/N!" I feel his arms twitch around me, and I know he's frantically trying to figure out his next move. "Hey, stay with me," he pleads.
"Maybe we should get her talking," Sam's voice suggests from the other side of me. I keep my eyes shut. "So we know she's still here," he says.
Dean's hot breath hits my face as he lets out a heavy sigh, and I sway with him in his arms as he shakes his head no.
"Cas! Finally," Dean's voice is excited, but hesitant as Cas remains quiet. "Cas! Heal her!" Dean grunts, and what follows is more silence. "Cas!"
"Dean, you know I can't do that," Cas says somberly, a cold brush of air hitting me as Cas walks over to our side.
"Why the hell not?" Dean shouts with enough force to rattle me in his arms. I grunt from the jolt of pain it sends through my body, but he ignores me.
"I'm limited on my powers," Cas whispers. “Heaven, they-“ but he’s cut off by a scoff from Dean.
I feel myself weaken more and more with every second that they bicker around me, and I don't even have the strength to contest it. They're voices grow distant, and my muscles relax as I'm brought back to unconsciousness.
"I know you're not the marrying type, Dean, but-" I said, losing confidence in myself, and as if he realized this, Dean quickly straightened himself out to hold his palms up at me.
"No, no, it's not that. I'm just... I'm just a little surprised is all." Without letting me respond, he walks to his dresser and the drawer creaks as he opens it, the smell of old wood filled my nose as he rummaged around in it.
He turned to face me, and in his hands was a small, black box. His eyes softened, and he knelt down to one knee, "Y/N, I have been wanting to ask you this, maybe since the day we met," he chuckled. "And I had a whole speech prepared, but I think you got me beat," he laughed again, "and left me nearly speechless. So, Y/N, yes, I will marry you," he said.
--
The terrified shouts of the men around me brings me back to them, and thank God for that. My eyes still burn, and I clench them even tighter, forcing a tear I didn't know was there down and over the bridge of my nose.
I try to clear my throat to speak, but it's like it gets caught on something, and I cough to get it out. Dean quickly raises me up to a sitting position, which is excruciatingly painful.
"Y/N," Dean's voice shakes.
I take a few deep breaths in to clear my airway, and fight to open my eyes. They only open to a squint, but I take what I can get. I glance at Sam, then Cas who keep their eyes on the floor in front of them. My head tilts back as I look up at Dean. His eyes are trained to mine, his eyebrows pressed tightly together, as are his lips.
"Marry me, Winchester," I squeak, and I can see his face instantly relax.
"What?" he says, then the corners of his lips curl down. He nods gently and the tears he had been holding back come pouring down. He looks up at Cas, who immediately understand and kneels down next to us.
"Allow me," he offers, placing his hand under my cold fingers, and his other on Dean's shoulder. "Y/N, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony," Cas begins, and my lips quiver at the words 'live together' because it finally hits me that this is the end of that.
Cas continues, voice a little louder to overshadow the sobs that break through Dean's chest. "To love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"
"And even longer," I say, my eyes, even blurry, moving to Dean's in time to see tears slip down his cheek.
Cas turns his attention to my other half, "Dean, do you take-"
"I do," Dean eagerly states when he notices my breathing has slowed exponentially. "Skip to the end," Dean pleads.
"By the virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the Lord, I now pronounce you husband and wife". Cas sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. "You may kiss the bride."
Dean brings me closer to him, and his lips are hot and quivering against mine. I pucker to kiss him, but I know my lips don't move by the way his press deeper into mine to accommodate it. My breaths are even slower now, and I can feel myself slipping away again, no matter how hard I try to fight it.
I draw in a long, cold breath, trying to hold on as long as I can. "I love you, Dean," I say and as the breath escapes me, so does my light.
"I love you, t-"
----
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The L Word
Pairings: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1,273 
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Warnings- Season 5 spoilers
You awoke with a deep gasp, your heart pounding and eyes wide. Sitting up and looking around the room you realize that you’re ok. Sam was asleep on the motel bed next to you, while Dean slept peacefully beside you. His chest rose and fell steadily, and you were more than grateful that you didn’t wake either of the boys up. 
This hunt had been particularly difficult, and you knew the boys were exhausted and they needed their sleep. You were also exhausted, but the nightmares that usually occurred stopped you from being able to sleep. 
The truth is, you were defeated. You and the Winchester brothers were working non stop and it was beginning to be one hunt after the other without a break and casualty after casualty with more lives lost than saved. It was kind of Sam’s fault that the world was coming to an end, but he received so much backlash from everyone you figured he’s been punished enough. 
You couldn’t help but sigh softly and buried your face into your hands, then running your fingers through your scalp in frustration. Tears pricked at your eyes and you tried desperately to hold them back. All you wanted to do was sleep and get some well needed rest. 
“Y/n? S’matter?” 
You looked to your right to see Dean looking at you with squinty and sleepy eyes. Guilt coursed through you. “M’sorry De. Go back to sleep I’m alright.”
“What happened? Another nightmare?”
You look at him confused but he knew you better than you knew yourself. “We share a bed at every motel we stay in, and when we aren’t staying in a motel we’re living in the car. If you think I don’t know you by now or picked up on the fact that you’re not alright, you’re crazy.”
You quietly sigh, and look to your arms that were holding onto your legs. “You’re right. M’not alright. I haven’t been for some time.”
“I know.” He says teasingly with a smile playing onto his lips and yours did the same. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,-” You shook your head. “But..I really should.”
“I know I’m not the best person to talk to or get advice from. Hell, I bottle everything up and explode when I can’t take it anymore, but take it from me. Talking about your issues is way better than letting your mental health go down the drain…”
“I just…I feel like a failure. We’ve lost so many people in the last few years and with everything going on with the apocalypse… I feel like were losing more casualites than actually saving lives..”
The way he was looking at you was making your heart melt. His complete attention was on you, no distractions and every word you spoke you felt more and more comfortable expressing your feelings to him. You should’ve talked to him more, but you were stubborn just like him. 
The truth is, your heart belonged to Dean and it always will. You’ve had your fair share of hookups with him and you knew that’s all you would ever get. Let’s face it, hunters don’t get a happy ending and he made it perfectly clear that it was a friends with benefits relationship. 
Everytime he got close to someone it ended up in hurt and death. It’s the reason why he and Cassie never worked out, or why he had to walk away from Lisa. He knew he would never be able to get anything real and that’s why it was easy with you. No feelings or strings attached and you knew about the Supernatural so you understood the life. 
Everything went well except you broke the number one rule of your friends with benefits relationship. You grew real feelings. Of course you wouldn’t say anything to Dean, because having him as a friend was better than not having him as anything at all. 
“I just… I don’t know how to move forward. Trying so hard to save the world everyday and knowing it’s all on our shoulders is putting so much pressure on me. The clock is ticking and we’re running out of time. Jo and Ellen are dead because of us, Bobby can’t walk because of us…at his point I feel as if the world would be a better place without me” Your eyes welled up with tears and you were desperately trying to push them down. 
“Hey hey hey, c’mere…” He cooed gently and pulled you into him. You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his torso while burying your face into the crock of his neck. 
He felt the tears sliding against his skin and his heart broke at the silent sobs that racked your body. He was so in love with you and it terrified him. He fell in love with you at the first hello. His past relationships never worked out but he couldn’t hide his adoration for you. He didn’t want to see you get hurt or to lose you so he figured innocent flirting and hooking up would do no harm. 
You meant way more to him than just a hookup. He was scared as fuck to tell you especially now. If he told you how he really felt knowing his luck you would die on him tomorrow. 
“Sweetheart, you have no idea how wrong you are..” He says softly. “The world would be a worse place without you in it. It would most likely already be destroyed if you weren’t here. No, this isn’t easy and it takes a toll on me too every single day. But I know for a damn fact without you, me, Sam and Bobby..it.. It wouldn’t be half the world it is. No, things aren’t the best with Bobby but unfortunately in our line of work it’s unpredictable and anything can happen at anytime. I really thought I would be dead by now and here I am at 30 alive and kicking. We’re doing our best and I can’t promise that any of us are going to make it through it, but I know for a fact we’re going to stop the apocalypse. If we go down, then we’re going to go down together and swinging…”
Your silent cries turned into tears, which eventually turned into occasional sniffles as he spoke softly. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel better. “Thank you…” You sniffle quietly and he wraps his arms around you tighter. 
“I wish our lives were different sweetheart, because I would love to be normal with you…white picket fence with a dog and some kids..”
You look up at him and the amount of vulnerability in his features made your heart flutter. “I want that more than anything too De…I have strong feelings for you and it scares the shit out of me…”
“I, I feel the same way. I want to use the L word so much…because you deserve nothing more than to hear it every day…but I can’t. M’ scared to shit that if I tell you you’ll be taken from me and I can’t…” He took a deep breath. 
“It’s okay De. I understand.” 
“C’mere.”
You snuggled deep into him as much as you could while burying your face into his neck once more. He placed a kiss to the top of your head while wrapping his arms around you snugly. 
“If somehow we do make it out of this…things will be different. I promise.” He spoke and now you had a reason to want to make it through this and live.
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stusbunker · 8 days
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Spotless: Schleppen
Chapter Sixteen
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Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela
Other characters: Sam/Madison, Lee/Pam/Benny, Jesse/Cesar, Charlie/OFC, unnamed female character
Word Count: 2644
Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, everyone is hungover, Dean steps in it, Sam is so done with their shit, unbeta'd
Series Masterlist
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Dean didn’t sleep. Or if he did, it was in the last gasps of darkness and so short, he couldn’t feel its relief. Alcohol affects the REM cycle, so whoever taught him to have a drink before bed to help with his insomnia (John) was wrong. It was just one of the many things he’d learned in therapy. Dean found he had many things yet to unlearn.
No one who had stayed over was in any better shape when he got downstairs.
Bela and Trouble had bunkered down on the couch in the den, Charlie had claimed one of the bedrooms with a woodland elf, the other spare went to Pam and Lee, but Dean was pretty sure he had heard Benny through the walls, so maybe him too. The other girl Charlie brought along was on the floor curled around Jesse fruitlessly, because Cesar, who was sitting with his back to the end of the couch, still asleep, held his partner’s head in his lap. He wondered if Sam was already up and running until Madison came down the stairs in search of caffeine with a shirtless and rumpled Sam on her heels.
“Morning,” Dean said smugly to them both.
Madison met his gaze and tried not to blush, which Dean found oddly refreshing, while Sam just flipped him off and dove in for a cup of coffee before it was even done brewing.
They moved in hushed whispers, but the Winchesters’ words were doomed to carry with their baritone. After Madison admonished them for not having more to eat in their fridge, Dean stepped up and ordered a combo of both greasy and sweet options to be delivered with an impressive tip to the driver for their discretion.
Bela helped herself to Dean’s shower and some of his clothes. And if anyone had found it odd that they hadn’t slept together, no one was ballsy enough to mention it. Or maybe they were all just too hungover to care. 
He still hadn’t seen Pam and company emerge and he wondered if he was going to have to risk walking in on some alternative hangover cures. 
Luckily for everyone, the pounding on the front door for the food was enough to rouse the stragglers and beckon them back to civilization.
“Happy 2018 everybody!” Pam croaked with a shiteating grin on her face as she took in everyone’s subdued state.
She was met with lackluster replies, grumbles and a very sarcastic cheer from Charlie. She tutted at them and sauntered her way towards the jelly donuts.
As rough as he felt, Dean lived for mornings (or early afternoons) like this. His kitchen was filled with people he loved, sharing food and just existing together, safe and warm. It’s what being in a band was all about. He started another pot of coffee when Bela slinked over and hugged him from behind, resting her face between his shoulder blades.
“I’ll just have a nap right here, thanks,” she mumbled against his shirt.
“Oh yeah?” Dean peered down at her. “You know, you can take my bed if you’re still tired, not gonna rush anybody out today.”
“‘S too far,” Bela complained. “And I already showered, no sense delaying the inevitable.”
Dean turned in her arms, letting her rest against his chest instead. He rubbed her back and looked up when he felt someone watching him. You sat folded in on yourself on one of the tall chairs, looking as if you were going to puke all over the counter.
“You okay over there?” Dean asked, more alarm slipping into his voice than the jest he intended. He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go of Bela as she turned to look at who he was talking to.
Gaping at him like a deer caught in the headlights, you nodded. 
Dean reminded himself to breathe, feeling everything you were saying by the look in your eyes. He fucked up. But in that moment there was nothing he could say that would fix it. Bela was supposed to be his girl, it would be too obvious to step away from her now.
As much as he suddenly wanted distance, he held on tighter, like she was a shield against his feelings for you. And against the look of betrayal in your eyes.
“When do you want to leave— Y/N?” Bela broke through Dean’s silent spiraling and started making plans to get home.
“Lemme drive you guys— could use some fresh air,” Dean cut in before they could order a ride.
“Are you sure? I’m a little out of the way,” you asked, worried over being a burden or being trapped in a car with him, Dean couldn’t be sure.
“Positive, just say when, and I’ll get Baby all set to go,” Dean insisted.
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Bela kissed Dean on the cheek and thanked him for a wonderful time, promising to text him her schedule later. She reached over the backseat to grab your hand, smiling mischievously, “another one for the books. See you at brunch?”
“If I can eat by then,” you muttered, smirking as she slid out of the car.
“Bye!” Bela called as she disappeared through the door from the garage into the kitchen.
Dean cleared his throat and leered at you in the rearview mirror.
“You gonna come up here or am I gonna have to call you Miss Daisy?”
You rolled your eyes at him, but you didn’t open your door.
“I can wait all day. If you think you can out- stubborn me–,”
“FINE!” you snapped, throwing open the door and almost slamming it into Bela’s car’s rear end. “Asshole.”
Dean tried not to laugh outright, but you were kind of adorable when you were pissed. Once you were situated in the passenger seat, purse and coat lumped on your lap and seat belt secured, Dean continued to wait.
“What?! We can go now.”
“Easy! I’m just adjusting my mirrors, don’t want to back into anything,” Dean added with an air of responsibility.
“You so were not,” you grumbled, huffing before leering at the sideview as Dean crawled out of Bela’s driveway.
It was going to be a long drive.
Once they were out of the canyon, Dean decided he was going to have to put some of those lessons from Missouri to use. “So— you wanna talk about it?”
You glared at him like he asked if you wanted to eat your jacket.
“Come on, I know you’re pissed. Let me have it,” Dean egged you on, okay, maybe he could have said that better.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, eyes on your hands.
“Really? You gonna pretend you’re not having a bitchfit right now?”
“Dean Henry Winchester, do not make me call Charlie and tell her you called me a bitch.” And just like that you were all in. “I cannot believe you right now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, look, you can’t just go around kissing people and then shoving your relationship in their faces. It’s called mixed signals, asshole!”
“Oh, so you can call me an asshole, but I can’t call you names?!”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not the same and you know it.”
Dean sighed, he was letting himself get defensive instead of focusing on what you were really saying. It suddenly felt like a horrible idea to have this conversation when neither of you could escape.
“I don’t know what relationship you’re talking about— the fake dating thing you roped me into?! Cuz that’s not real, that’s playing nice— for you!” Dean hadn’t realized how much he resented you for this whole set up, but now that the words were out of his mouth, things made a lot more sense.
“Bullshit,” you spat.
“You want me to ignore her, huh? Pretend she’s not there, in front of everybody this could hurt if it gets out that it’s all a lie?!”
You turned on him then, taking a deep breath as Dean made sure he wasn’t too distracted to drive. “Is it a lie?”
Dean looked back at the road and licked his lips. How much did you know? How much was it safe to tell you? How much of Bela’s life was private, even from you?
“What are you talking about?! Of course it’s a lie, an act, a ruse! You were the mastermind here, remember?!”
“You know what, Dean? I think the lady doth protest too much,” you said. “I think you know it was wrong to do what you did, but now you’re trying to pin this on me. When I only did it to cover your ass!”
“That is so not fair. I own my shit. What are you really pissed at here? Me in general? Me kissing you? Me hugging Bela? Me making your job harder? WHAT?!”
You groaned. “YES! Okay? YES!”
You stopped your tirade and looked at him and Dean felt you deflate as he glanced back onto the road ahead.
You started over, trying for calm, “you are inherently annoying, I think we both know that.”
Dean huffed. “Yeah, thanks.”
“No, listen. I knew this thing wasn’t going to be easy— for any of us. But it’s the best way to turn everything around. But— if you can’t do it anymore, if there’s something you need to tell me, I’ll understand. We’ll figure it out, okay? Just— just don’t lie to me, okay? I can’t fix things if I don’t have the whole story.”
Dean felt about two inches tall. He wiped his hand down his face and growled, pissed at himself and whatever you were fishing for. Because it was still all his fault. Somehow, he had gotten you home, he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.
“I can do it, okay? This is on me. I’ll make it right. I’ll be on my best behavior, get us out on tour without a hitch. Make the label all the money and start to earn back everybody’s respect. I owe them all that much,” Dean promised to your suspicious face.
“Dean—”
“What?”
“Is there anything I should know? Seriously. I won’t be pissed. I just— feel like, like I’m out of the loop on this.”
“You were there all night. I think you got a good idea how things are going. Uh, what more can I say, you know? I’m sorry, though, for making you worry. Okay?” Dean ducked his head, making sure you were seeing him, eyes trying to make you see what he couldn’t say, but what he most definitely felt.
Maybe he hadn’t learned anything from Missouri at all. But he was still trying.
“If you’re sure— we’ll keep it going. We've still got over a month before we’re on the road, but it’s gonna go fast now. I just need you to be on your A game,” you said firmly, cementing it into the fabric of your shared reality.
Just keep carrying on.
Dean could do that. He had to.
“Sounds like a plan. And Trouble, do me a favor?” Dean leaned over, slipping into his charming self. “You gotta loosen up, okay? Get a hobby, get laid, just find somewhere to put all this shit you carry so it’s not weighing you down. Okay?”
You sighed and rolled your eyes, tossing the door open and crawling out. “Like it’s that easy. Happy New Year, Dean, drive safe.”
“Later.”
Dean waited until you made it into the house before starting the engine back up. He didn’t go home right away, instead he took a drive along the coast, letting his mind try and untangle the knot you’d just made by having that conversation. 
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Six am came way too early the following morning and with it, Sam pounding on Dean’s door to get his ass downstairs and into the gym. Right, his New Year’s resolution and his fucking brother holding him to it. 
“Gotta piss, calm down Billy Blanks,” Dean groaned, rolling out of bed.
He did his business, changed into something he could move around in, and finally found some tennis shoes at the back of his closet.
By the time he made it into the part of their basement they had turned into a gym, Sam was already sweating with a jump rope warm up. 
“What?! I’m here aren’t I? It’s not that late,” Dean grumbled at Sam’s judgey face.
They worked out with little discussion, spotting each other when they moved onto weights. They hadn’t worked out the details of this new shared routine, but slowly Dean felt it falling into place. The strain of his muscles and the swelling of his lungs all reminded him to be present and mindful. To let his body take over building when his mind wanted to use it to punish.
After they had stretched and were winding down, Dean decided to tape up his hands and spend some time on their speed bag. But, of course, that drew Sam’s attention.
Anything that hinted at Cain or Alastair always did.
“What?”
Sam looked him over. “You good?”
Dean didn’t want to have a different version of the trainwreck conversation the day before. But Sam knew everything, more or less anyway. Dean didn’t look up from his task, mesmerized by how soft his knuckles had gotten recently.
“I kissed Trouble.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sam laughed, actually, genuinely laughed at him. “How’d that go?”
Dean considered the act itself. “Well—- she didn’t hit me.”
Sam sat down on the end of the bench, settling in for the dirt. “Were you expecting her to?
Dean looked over and saw Sam was no longer teasing. “Could you blame her? Some guy like me? A fuck up with a history of diddling her friends?”
“Dean.”
“I know, I know. Believe in myself. I am worthy of love. I know, okay. Just… she didn’t say anything. Just stood there after pulling away, staring at me in total shock.”
“Did she kiss you back?”
Dean thought about it, remembering the way your mouth let him in. “At first, yeah.”
Sam chewed that over. “Does Bela know how you feel about her?”
“Sam, I’m not even sure how I feel about her.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah you are. You just have been too stupid and self deprecating to do anything about it. Does she?”
Dean shook his head.
“Are you guys fucking?”
“Not like, committedly.”
“Okay, well, you should probably stop that. And tell Trouble how deep you’re in it. Like, I hate being alone with you two, it’s so obvious.”
Dean flipped Sam off.
“What? No, I’m serious. You guys just need to get over your shit and tell each other how you feel. And warn me, because I do not want to come home for like a week after all those years of tension is finally worked out, god.”
Dean kind of gets lost in that image for a minute. “Nah, we’d go to her place. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Sam couldn’t even tease him after how pathetic he sounded. “But first you need to tell her.”
Dean sighed. “I can’t. I promised her I’d behave and stick to the plan. I can’t risk pissing off Dick and Crowley anymore, I don’t want to jeopardize the band.”
“I’m pretty sure I told you this was a bad idea and I just want to reiterate that point,” Sam snarked.
“Yeah, well, them’s the breaks,” Dean huffed as he hauled himself up and squared off with the hanging bag.
He found a rhythm and kept on his toes.
“Dean, seriously, just tell her how you feel. Life’s too short, you know?” Sam said to Dean’s back.
Dean sighed, upping his pace. Because, yeah, life was really too short.
But there was still nothing he could do about it now.
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Author's Note: LISTEN! I did not even outline the first 2/3rds of this chapter. IT just HAPPENED, so yeah, they're still both idiots.
Tagging:
@deans-spinster-witch
@mrswhozeewhatsis
@cosicas-cuquis
@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like
@suckitands33
@ladysparkles78
@deans-baby-momma
@stoneyggirl2
@sassy-pelican
@leigh70
@globetrotter28
@winharry
@lastactiontricia
@rockhoochie
Chapter Seventeen: Trill
59 notes · View notes
octoberclidan · 8 months
Text
Can You Look at Me?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Request: She hunts with Sam and Dean for a long time, they are inseparable best friends. She has feelings for Dean, but doesn't have hope he feels the same (he feels the same) because he often has one night stands with blonde busty barbies. When this happens reader is super sad,because she's more the small and petite type and not the busty tall model. One night the three celebrate in a bar and Dean as always flirts with a bitch, to distract himself from his feelings for his best friend. Unfortunately there's a guy hitting on her and he's super intrusive and she tries to defend herself but the guy is three her size. He spiked her drink and she slowly begins to feel faint. He violates her. After some time dean notices that a creep violates her in a corner....
She's out of it and Dean brings her to the bunker. She has a worrying reaction to the drugs and he takes care of her. She has a respiratory depression and later she's suffering from being violently sick. I really like Dean and Sam to be protective and worried care taker =)
Note: this is 18+ and contains sexual harassment and assault.
Masterlist
Story:
"Hey, you up for a bit of a celebration tonight?" Sam found [Y/N] in her room, updating her journal with details from the witch hunt they'd just arrived back from that morning. She glanced up at him and smiled, nodding at him.
"Sure, just our local bar?" She asked and he nodded once.
"Yeah, and just the three of us, Cas has heaven business to attend to". He walked over and pulled a chair over to sit down beside her bed. She closed her journal and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly something was on his mind. "So, you uh, think you'll see someone you like there?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.
"Sam, come on".
"What?" He grinned at her.
"You are far more invested in this than I am".
"Why don't you make a move tonight? You're on a high from the hunt, he's on a high from the hunt...". She glared at him and he raised his hands in defense. "Look, all I'm saying is, you two stare at each other all the time. Cas has even pointed it out. You can deny it all you want, but I know you have feelings for him, and I know he has feelings for you. I say you take your shot tonight". He shrugged before he stood up and put the chair back. "We leave in ten". He smiled at her annoyed expression before leaving the room.
Sam had been nagging [Y/N] about her feelings for Dean for months. She hadn't admitted anything, but he knew her too well, seeing right through her. She always found Dean attractive, anyone would, but her feelings for him evolved into something more solid after she'd moved into the bunker a year previous. She'd spent a lot of time with both Sam and Dean, and Cas too, and she'd come to genuinely love all of them. Cas was someone she could talk to about anything without fear of judgement, Sam was someone who she trained with, researched with, worked well with, and cared very deeply for. Dean was someone who she got along with without having to put in any effort, they just clicked. They got each other, they knew how to read each other, they looked out for each other, they knew when something was wrong with the other, and they enjoyed each other's company, even in silence.
Sam seemed to think that she just didn't have the courage to tell Dean how she felt, but courage wasn't the issue, at least not entirely. She had never been too scared to tell a man how she felt about them. The main issue was that even on the off chance that he did like her too, it would never work. Their ability to hunt together would be affected if there was a relationship involved. They often argued after bad hunts, when they were tired, physically hurt, and emotionally drained. She knew that put a strain on their friendship sometimes, and even though they always got over it, she also knew that it would do even more damage to a romantic relationship. Besides all of that, she was also almost certain that he didn't feel the same about her anyway, since she simply wasn't his type. Although Dean looked short next to Sam, he was still a tall guy. She'd never seen him go for a shorter woman. She'd also never seem him go for a woman with her body type, he tended to go for women with curves in all the right places, curves that [Y/N] just never had. She tried not to dwell on it too much, but that wasn't something she succeeded with.
She picked out a simple black dress from her closet which hugged her thighs, decided to leave her hair down, added some simple pieces of jewellery, and put on a pair of plain black high heels; something to give her a little bit of height. She didn't dress up often, they didn't really go out much. A lot of the time they were on hunts a few days away from the bunker, and when they were over they'd usually celebrate in whatever bar was closest to the case before heading back, meaning they usually went out in whatever clothes they brought for the hunt. Their last hunt wasn't that far away though, so they'd driven through the night to get home instead of going out. It was a rare opportunity for [Y/N] to dress up and feel pretty for once, and who knows, maybe there'd be a new local or someone passing through who she could make a good first impression on.
Once she was happy with how she looked, or as happy as she could be with what she had to work with, she picked up her purse and walked out to the war room to meet the boys. Sam raised his eyebrows when he saw her, and even though she had no feelings other than platonic for him, she couldn't help the blush on her cheeks under his stare. "Wow, you clean up well". He said, and his remark pulled the attention of Dean, who'd been distracted looking under the table for something when [Y/N] had walked in. He looked her up and down before clearing his throat and looking to Sam. Although she'd been building a wall between herself and her feelings for Dean, she had to admit that his lack of acknowledgement of the effort she'd put into her appearance stung a little.
"You sure you haven't seen them?"
"I told you, you were wearing them when we got back and then you disappeared off into your room, so if they're not in there and they're not out here, then I've no idea where your boots are Dean".
"Well I can't go out in just my socks".
"You seriously only own one pair of boots?" Sam asked him, crossing his arms with an amused expression on his face.
"No, but my other pair are covered in ghoul".
"Dean, that ghoul hunt was two months ago. You're telling me you've had those shoes rotting in your room all that time and haven't cleaned them yet? No wonder every time you open your door it makes the entire corridor smell like something's just died".
Dean just waved him off, muttering to him to go ahead and he'd meet them there as he wandered off back to his room. Sam and [Y/N] decided to walk to the bar since they intended on drinking properly, and it wasn't very far from the bunker. Although, she knew her feet would probably be hurting before she even got there with her not being used to wearing heels that much anymore. She figured it was worth the pain for one night.
The bar was busy when they got there, and [Y/N] grabbed a table while Sam went off to order drinks. She used the opportunity to scan the room, trying to see if there was anyone there that looked interesting. She noticed a man leaning at the bar ordering a drink ahead of Sam. What drew her attention to him was how similar he looked to Dean; same sort of height, build, clothes. Even his stance and they way he was smirking at the bartender looked like Dean. She watched him until Sam made his way back to the table with their drinks, looking away before he got back to the table, but he'd already caught her staring at him.
"He's not the real thing, you know that, right?" He chuckled as he sat down opposite her. She blushed and brought her drink up to her lips.
"I'm just looking, there's nothing wrong with that". Sam leaned forwards on the table, ready to start nagging again but she cut him off before he could start. "I want to enjoy tonight Sam, maybe find a nice man who's interested. I'm an adult, and I don't think I look too bad tonight, so I can do that if I want to". She took another sip of her drink.
"Yeah but Dean-"
"Sam. I said I want to enjoy the night, so drop it, okay?" They sat in silence for a few minutes with their drink, until Sam started talking about the type of magic that the witch they'd just killed had been using. She was half listening to him, half keeping an eye on the Dean lookalike while they made their way through their drinks.
"[Y/N]?" Sam waved his hand in front of her as she watched the man continue to flirt with the bartender, even his mannerisms were the same.
"Hmm?" She took a final sip of her drink.
"Are you listening? I asked if you ever found out what language she was speaking when she started to cast that spell".
"Oh, yeah, it was Irish, she was saying something about setting fire to either a man, or to the grass, one or the other, I couldn't remember exactly what she said". She looked back over to see the man now turned away from the bar, catching her eyes and smiling at her. She smiled back at him and Sam cleared his throat in an attempt to win back her attention. "Hey, you think Dean found his boots yet?" She asked, still looking at the man. The more she looked at him, a feeling of uneasiness started to grow inside her. He looked like Dean but he was missing the kindness in Dean's eyes, the warmth of Dean's smile, the aura of safety that she felt around Dean.
"He uh, found them awhile ago". She looked back at Sam in confusion, to see him looking over her shoulder with a grimace on his face. She turned around to see what he was looking at, and there Dean was. He was sitting in a booth with his arm around a girl that fit his type exactly, a smirk on his face as she giggled to something he'd just said. A wave of pain and jealousy flowed through her, but she found it difficult to look away. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and stood up.
"I need another drink". She didn't meet Sam's eyes, not wanting to see his pity, and made her way over to the bar to order, deciding to go to the far end from where the Dean lookalike was, now avoiding his gaze. Once her drink was on the counter, she turned back around to where she had been sitting with Sam, but there was another girl sitting where she'd been, and Sam was already completely immersed in conversation with her. [Y/N] sighed and leaned back against the bar watching them, leaving her drink on the counter beside her. She knew it had been awhile for Sam, and she was happy to see him smile. She took a long gulp from her drink and couldn't help but let her eyes wander over to Dean's booth, where his tongue was now definitely inside the girl's mouth. She tried to ignore the nausea she felt and was about to throw down some cash and head home early when someone cleared their throat beside her. Looking up, she saw a pair of green eyes. Cold, not warm like Dean's. Now that he was right next to her, she could see that he was taller than Dean, closer to Sam's height, and very broad.
"Hey, what's your name?" He smiled at her.
"[Y/N], sorry, I was actually just about to leave". She pushed off the bar but he stepped in front of her.
"What's the hurry? Not gonna finish your drink at least? I'm David". He held his hand out to her, and she glanced around him to Sam, but he was now facing away from her, having pulled his chair around to be closer to the girl he was talking to. She sighed but smiled and him and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, but I really am just gonna head home". She went to move around him but stumbled a little bit, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. She'd only had one drink with Sam, and half of a second drink, not nearly enough for her to feel tipsy. David's large hand grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.
"Woah, you okay?" He scrunched his eyebrows together, and she was almost convinced, but his concern didn't seem genuine.
"Yeah..'m just tired. Gonna get my friend". She made another attempt to step around him, but she tripped, and this time David's arms were around her waist and pulling her closer to him.
"Looks like you need some support". He chuckled and she tried to push his arms off her, but she felt strangely weak. She was a hunter, she was small, but she was strong, she had been trained by the two best hunters in the world, and even though this guy was over a foot taller than her, she should've been able to manuever out of his hold with ease. Her body just wasn't cooperating, it wasn't doing what she wanted it to.
"Get off". She meant it as a demand, but her voice came out quiet. The room was now spinning, she couldn't really see anything properly, but she felt the edge of the counter of the bar against her back, and David pressing her into it.
"You seem tense, I can help you let off some steam". He murmured into her ear, now close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. She brought her arms up to push his chest, but again she couldn't find any strength in them. He chuckled, gripping her waist hard with both hands and pushed his knee in between her legs, pushing his thigh up under her dress to grind against her underwear. She was confused as to why she couldn't think straight, why she couldn't see properly, why she couldn't get away, and she started to cry, continuously trying and failing to push him away without success. She didn't know how long she'd been there, it could've been less than a minute, or it could have been half an hour, but suddenly the pressure from David was gone, and she was falling to the floor on her hands and knees.
***
Dean had found his boots not long after he'd left Sam and [Y/N] to go to the bar. He'd arrived only ten minutes or so after they had, and he'd gone up to the bar to order himself a drink with the intention of joining Sam and [Y/N] at theirs. He'd been waiting for his drink when a pretty woman had said hello to him, had complimented his smile, and had asked to touch his muscles. Dean never had to try very hard to get attention, and he knew it. However, it wasn't the attention he really wanted. He glanced over to [Y/N], but she was staring at another man on the other end of the bar, not noticing Dean at all. So, he decided that the pretty girl touching his muscles would be a good distraction, and maybe if he got talking to her, she'd be half as interesting as [Y/N].
He hadn't bothered to make himself known to Sam and [Y/N], and pulled the girl over to a free booth and wrapped an arm around her, ready to try and get lost in her. He made eye contact with Sam, who nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to [Y/N], but Dean could see that she wasn't paying any attention to Sam, she was still looking over at the guy at the bar. Trying to keep the jealously at bay, Dean chuckled and nodded at whatever the girl had just said to him, and leaned in to kiss her. When he finally decided that he wasn't having fun and wasn't into it when he knew [Y/N] was right there and interested in someone else, he made an excuse and got up from the booth. He turned to go over to Sam and [Y/N]'s table to tell them he was going to go back to the bunker, but [Y/N] wasn't there, some other girl was talking to Sam. Dean scanned the room and when he found [Y/N], his heart sank. The man she'd been looking at earlier was caging her in against the bar, and she was clearly crying. Dean had never felt anger like he had in that moment, and without thinking he marched over to the man, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off [Y/N]. He shoved him, and David stumbled backwards.
"What's your problem?" David asked, squaring up against Dean.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Dean's face was red with anger.
"Fuck off, find your own slut". David shoved Dean and Dean punched him without hesitation, right in the jaw. He stumbled back again, this time falling down onto his back. Dean hadn't noticed, but the people around him had cleared away and everyone was watching. Sam had immediately run over to [Y/N] who was on the ground, but Dean's attention was on David. He crouched down and grabbed a fistful of his collar, pulling his head up and getting in his face.
"If I ever see you again, if you ever touch her again, I will kill you". He waited for David to submit and nod, then let go, letting him fall back down, and with the look that Dean was giving him, he stayed down.
"Dean". Sam's voice called to Dean and he stood back up, gave David one last warning glare, and turned around to see Sam and [Y/N] on the ground. She was sitting in Sam's lap, and he was cradling her in his arms, rocking slightly in an attempt to comfort her. "There's something wrong with her, she's not breathing properly". Dean knelt down beside them, his anger turning to panic as he watched [Y/N] struggling to catch her breath, the tears still streaming down her face. He pushed her hair back off her face and wiped her tears away.
"Hey Sweetheart, you're safe, Sammy and I have you. Can you look at me?" He cupped her cheek but her eyes weren't focusing on him, she was looking all over frantically. "Okay, okay, come here". He looked to Sam. "Give her to me, we need to get her out of here". Sam nodded and carefully pushed her into Dean's arms, before getting himself up and helping Dean up with her. Sam walked ahead of Dean, clearing a path through the crowd and opening the door as Dean carried [Y/N], his hand holding her head close to his chest, determined not to let anyone hurt her or even get close to her.
Dean kept his eyes on her the entire walk home, and Sam kept trying to talk to her but got no response other than confused expressions. "She's completely out of it, how much did she drink?" Dean asked as they walked down the steps inside the bunker.
"Not enough to affect her like that. He definitely spiked her drink Dean". Sam had suggested taking her to a hospital, but Dean knew she wouldn't want that. He'd prayed to Cas during the walk home, and hoped that he'd be finished in heaven soon. He walked to her bedroom, Sam following quickly behind him. He laid her down on her bed and pulled back, and she started to panic, grabbing at his arm trying to stop him from letting go.
"Hey, hey, [Y/N] look at me". He put his fingers under her chin and angled her face towards his, but she still wasn't focusing on him. "I'm not going anywhere, you're in the bunker, you're gonna have to breathe properly for me, okay?"
"Dean, her colour is off, I think she's gonna be sick". Sam said from behind Dean. He stood back just in time to avoid being thrown up on as [Y/N] leaned over the side of the bed. He held her hair away from her face and rubbed her back, looking up to Sam for help. "I'll get her some water, move her to another bed and I'll clean this up".
"Thanks Sammy". Dean looked down to [Y/N] once Sam left the room. "Hey, do you think you're done? Or do you think you're gonna be sick again? Hopefully you've thrown up whatever was in that drink". He rubbed circles on her back and watched as tears formed in her eyes again.
"I'm sorry". She whispered, avoiding looking at him.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. How do you feel?"
"I feel weird".
"You weren't really with us for awhile there, you had both of us worried". She apologised again and sniffed before wiping her eyes.
"I don't feel like throwing up again". She mumbled.
"That's good, you're doing good. You wanna sleep in my room tonight? I have the most comfortable bed in the bunker". He reached over to wipe away another tear that escaped her eye and she nodded shyly at him. She tried to push herself off the bed but she still felt like she had no strength. "Don't push yourself, I'll carry you".
Dean carried [Y/N] to his room, noticing how she clung to his shirt as he did, and gently laid her down just as Sam walked in with a glass of water. "Thanks Sam". She said quietly, and he smiled at her and turned to Dean.
"Cas called, he's just finished in heaven and is on his way, should be here in a few hours. It's a good sign that she's talking now". He turned back to [Y/N]. "How are you feeling?" She just shrugged and took a sip of the water before handing it to Dean, who put it on the bedside table for her.
"I'm gonna stay with her until Cas gets here". Dean said, and Sam let him know to just call him if he needed anything. "You wanna move over a bit and let me in beside you? Or if you want your space I can sit in my chair instead, but I do want to be close by just to keep an eye on you". Dean wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms and protect her from everything, but he was also mindful of the fact that she may not want to be touched by someone after what happened, especially by someone who looked like the guy who hurt her. He smiled when she moved over in the bed and made eye contact with him. "Thank you Sweetheart".
He kicked off his shoes and pulled off hers too before he helped her under the covers and slid in beside her. She immediately lay her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist, and he wrapped both of his arms around her. She felt safe in his strong hold, and her thoughts were starting to clear up a bit. The tiredness was also setting in though, and she just wanted to fall asleep and forget that evening. Dean pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered reassurances to her until her breathing evened out and deepened. She was safe, she was going to be okay, he was going to tell her how he really felt about her when she was better, and both Sam and Dean would make sure they were there to protect her in future.
The end
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littlemissfix-itfic · 28 days
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The Bad Days
Dean Winchester, who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, who is self-sacrificial, who hides his anguish between snarky sarcastic jokes and a flirty, I-know-I'm-hot smirk, who is protective and loyal to those he loves to a fault, is not immune to bad days. In fact, Dean has them frequently, but the bad days, and I mean the really bad days, where the weight he holds and tries to shoulder alone finally comes crashing down on him, and all he can think about are the people he couldn't save, and the people he thinks he's failed all flash through his mind, and all the ways he's let down the people that matter most to him are all that he can see when he takes in his desolate reflection, are the days that he falters, and the days where he needs you the most. Those days that he pushes everyone away the most, those are the bad days I'm talking about.
Sometimes they'll start off ordinarily, or as ordinarily as a day in the life of a Winchester, or of a hunter, can. Those are the days when the angish sneaks below his feet, circling in the shadows and ensnaring him on Sam's pointed jab, or a flash of deja-vu as he catches a glimpse of a face that looks like someone he couldn't save. The days that start off mundane for Dean are the ones where the hair trigger could be anything from a misinterpreted joke, to a hunt gone sour, could send him into a spiral that would take even the strongest archangel out of commission for months at a time. Other times, the days will start with a heart-stopping jolt, with a cold sweat drenching the back of his shirt. On days when his morning starts with a anxiety-riddled, gasp as he stretches his arm across the bed, desperate to find the grounding comfort of your sleeping form beside him, he is surly and mean, and does everything in his power to isolate himself and push everyone away. Not out of a vindictive anger, but out of a deep-rooted self-loathing that makes him believe that he deserves this pain, that he deserves to be forgotten, abandoned, and hated by the people he holds dearest.
These are the days where he needs you most. Don't get me wrong, he wants you, and needs you every day, but when he's in a spiral, on the days where even basic kindness seems like something he doesn't even deserve to dream about, these are the days that he needs all of your love and concern. All of the worry that he teasingly tells you is wasted on a strong man like him, that he gets into shouting matches with Sam and Castiel over because damnit he is not an incapable child!
So on days like that, hold him a little tighter. Dote on him a little more. Tell him that you love him, and that he deserves kindness and love and he is not evil, hell he's not even bad. Remind him that for every mistake he's made, he's fixed a hundred others, and for every person he feels he's failed, he's save a thousand more.
On days when Dean Winchester feels like the world would be better off had he never been born, remind him how glad you are that he was. Remind him of how loved he is, and cuddle a little closer to him, and pretend not to notice the way your shirt grows damp when he buries his head in your shoulder and finally, finally lets himself feel, lets himself cry.
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my-proof-is-you · 1 month
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I Know Places
POV: it’s you and Dean against the world.
They can take their shots
We’re bulletproof
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And I know for me
It’s always you
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In the dead of night
Your eyes so green
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And I know for you
It’s always me
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I know places we can hide
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“Y/N, just open the damn door!” Dean knocked on it again, even louder.
“No! Go away, Dean.”
Dean rubbed a hand over his face. and leaned on the cold wood, his head on his forearm. “Y/N, just—come on...”
“No! Leave me alone.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally kicking himself. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
At first he thought maybe that had done it, because the door started to open beneath him, but when he saw your expression he knew that wasn’t the case.
Your jaw clenched. “No. That isn’t what I want to hear. Saying you’re sorry doesn’t go back and change the fact that you lied to me. I don’t want to hear your excuses about how it was to protect me or whatever. The bottom line is that you lied. So just leave me alone, Dean. I’m done.”
You shut the door again in his face and he found himself leaning back against the wall across the hall, defeated. The wood floor in the old house creaked and Dean looked down the hall to see Bobby.
“A word of advice,” Bobby started, “give her some space for a while and then try again when she’s had time to cool off. And next time, with that apology, do better.”
Dean sighed and nodded before following Bobby back down the stairs. But he wasn’t giving up for good...
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