#dean hurt/comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zepskies · 8 months

Text

Choosing Him

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, Sam W. x Reader

Summary: You and Sam have been dating and living together for a few months, when Dean shocks you with a confession. Now you have to choose.

AN: This was requested by this beautiful anon! (And also by my friend! ❤️)

Read this as a stand-alone or see this imagine for context: Dean gives you an impossible choice. (In which Dean is in love with Sam’s girlfriend.)

**Note: This contains two alternate endings: Sam vs. Dean.

Song Inspo: “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, as well as love requited.

Imagine: Choosing him.

“Dean, just talk to me. What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

No, he implored. Angrily.

But he implored, nonetheless.

Dean was good at being stubborn. In fact, he was a professional. His lips were tight in a frown, his brows just as knitted as his brother’s.

He sat cross armed on the couch while Sam stood, using his hands to punctuate his exclamations, as he often did when he was frustrated.

“Nothing, man. I already told you,” Dean tried.

“No,” Sam said sharply. “She’s actively avoiding you. And you’re taking any excuse you can not to be within three feet of my girlfriend. So either you said something, or you did something.”

Dean looked up at his brother with a heavy sigh through his nose.

They’d been at this for a while now. So long that he was surprised you hadn’t come barreling into the living room already to break up the argument. Because he had a feeling that just the sight of you would shut them both up. (Not in a good way.)

Dean’s throat was tight, his stomach churning with unease, though he tried to show none of it on his face. He could see that Sam was on the verge of losing his shit. Just a hair away from assuming the worst.

And the worst of him.

That, Dean couldn’t abide.

“Look,” he gritted out. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sam paused, tilting his head. He took in a breath that was only slightly calming, enough that he lowered to a seat on the coffee table, across from his brother.

“Then what’d you say?” he asked.

Dean felt even guiltier just remembering.

Three weeks ago…

You wanted to know why he was drinking alone. Why he’d downed nearly an entire bottle of Jameson in the kitchen on a Tuesday night.

“You really wanna know?” Dean asked. His voice was both a rumble and a coarse whisper. His green-eyed gaze fell to your lips.

He watched you suck in a subtle breath. Your eyed widened, and your body froze. He also saw the blush staining your cheeks.

So he leaned in, slowly. He was mere inches away from finding out how sweet you really were.

He heard your shallow breath. His eyes flicked up to yours, and instinctively knew that he’d captured you. He was making you think about it.

“Tell me no,” Dean said. Tell me to stop, or I swear to God...

“Dean, what...” you whispered. But that wasn’t a no.

Still, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. Not to Sam.

Dean merely reached out with a hand to soothe a gentle thumb across your cheek. He realized then that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you go, if he had to.

"It comes down to this," Dean said. His voice was deep, full of grit and desire. He saw the conflict in your eyes.

He swallowed. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he used every ounce of self-restraint he had left, forcing his hand to fall away from your cheek.

"You've got two choices, sweetheart," he said. And he pulled away, leaving you there at the table.

You never told him to stop…but he just couldn’t do it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean eventually answered his brother.

He ultimately couldn’t bring himself to voice the desperation of a drunken idiot.

He met Sam’s gaze directly. This much, he could say.

“All you need to know is I’d never…even drunk off my ass, I’d never hurt you,” Dean said.

Sam turned those words back and forth in his mind. His mouth firmed as he read between the lines, as he so often had to with Dean, who struggled to express the deeper parts of himself. Sam realized then what his brother was finally confessing.

“She loves you,” Dean added, with a self-deprecating smile.

That fell between them for a moment, as Sam rested a hand on his knee and processed all of this in record time. He glanced up.

“What about you?” he asked.

Again, with that quirk of a smile that didn’t reach Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that either.”

He got up, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and left him there to continue thinking. Dean passed the kitchen and continued down the hall.

Neither man realized that you were standing behind the kitchen doorway. You’d been about to attempt a bit of stress baking. A chocolate tart, maybe. Or a cheese souffle. Or even the new cherry pie recipe you’d found for Dean. Anything to take your mind off your current predicament.

However, now you knew you couldn’t put it off anymore.

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ventured into the living room, where your boyfriend was still brooding. He raised his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. Even now, he was relieved to see you. He also felt like he was standing on unsteady ground.

“Hey, yourself,” you greeted back. You tried to smile, but your heart was in your stomach with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”

Sam seemed to realize what you wanted to talk about. He sighed.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Dean and I talked it out—”

“No. No, because I need to say this. Because you deserve to hear it from me,” you insisted.

You also paused, as you didn’t quite know where to go from here.

Sam’s brows furrowed, but he tried to be patient. He watched your gears turning as thought to thought shifted in your eyes. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how open and expressive you were. He could usually tell what you were thinking…except for today. And the past few weeks.

That was what had him more nervous than he’d like to admit. If a blow was coming, he’d really like to be prepared…but he just couldn’t fucking tell.

Until you began speaking.

“Okay, first of all. Nothing happened,” you assured. You rested your hands on Sam’s shoulders. He looked up into your eyes, but before he could even nod in response, you kept going.

“Dean was drunk, and I wasn’t. Which probably won’t make you feel all that better, but the point is, all I did was ask him what’s wrong? And he didn’t want to tell me. But then I pushed the issue, as you know I do sometimes. I’m working on it, I really am.”

You levied a finger at Sam, at which he could only nod. Again, before he could offer a reply, you kept going.

“Well, finally he was all, you sure you wanna know?” you said, mimicking Dean’s deeper voice. Sam was tempted to smile, if but for what you were actually saying, and the way your gaze averted from his.

“And there was a moment there when…I thought maybe he might try to…but he didn’t. The problem is, I didn’t say no,” you confessed. Your brows knitted as you revealed how disheartened you felt at that, how guilt-ridden.

Sam’s eyes softened a bit, even though your words stung.

“I should’ve said it,” you knew. “I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Though in my defense! I was in shock. He was saying shocking things without saying them, you know? And I don’t want to be in this cliché…teen drama-esque, love triangle bullshit! You’re not Edward and I’m not Bella and this isn’t goddamn Twilight. And I refuse to be treated as such.”

You were huffing and puffing by the end of your little rant. Your eyes widened a fraction when you caught Sam trying to stamp down a smile.

“Is this amusing to you?” you snapped.

“Not at all,” Sam said. He shook his head, and with a sigh, drew you back to him with his hands on your hips. You stood between his open legs and grasped the front of his shirt.

“Look, thank you for telling me,” he said. “I know that we kind of rushed this a little. The moving in thing, I mean. It just…it felt right, at the time.”

“Yeah, I was kinda there for that,” you quipped. Your smile made him smile in return.

“Well, I guess I just need to ask you…if it still feels right,” he said.

He looked up into your eyes, still not quite sure what he would find. His heart was in his throat, no matter how many times he cleared it. He was good at looking calm when he wasn’t, and maybe his face was composed, but inside him was a tempest.

You calmed it with one touch. A gentle hand on his chest.

“Sam,” you said. Your smile was beautiful and warm. “After you left Stanford. After what happened to Jess…I didn’t know that her funeral was the last time I was ever going to see you.”

Despite that melancholy memory, your lips soon curved into a grin.

“Well, not for a long time anyway.” You both lightened at that.

Then you became more contemplative. Your gaze wandered beyond him for a moment, lost in the past.

Sam’s hands moved up to your waist and squeezed gently. You came back to him with a brighter expression.

“But when I saw you again, I thought…damn, he’s amazing,” you said with a giggle. “Even more amazing then when I knew him.”

Sam looked down at that, despite his smile. You picked him back up with your hand on his cheek. It was overgrown with stubble, a week or so past when he'd usually shave.

You didn't mind the scratchiness, but you wondered if you'd been distracting him too with your indecision. That thought made you feel all the more guilty.

“I still think that when I see you. Get to wake up next to you, research mythology and symbology and dead languages, and other things that should be impossible,” you said. “So yes, it still feels right for me. Very much so.”

Sam’s more genuine smile lightened you. He nodded and let you tilt his head back, slipping your fingers through his hair. He liked the way you touched him freely, both reassuring and affectionate.

He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been quietly afraid. Afraid he'd read you wrong, that his heart had somehow lied to him. Now he knew that it rang true.

“Okay. Good,” he said. And he reached up to touch his lips to yours.

At least, it was a simple touch at first. It soon grew in passion, becoming a more claiming kiss. He pulled you in flush against him. A hand tangled into your hair, brushing against the back of your neck, and you hummed in delight.

Your hands sunk further into his hair, just as your mouth wordlessly claimed him back. His long fingers trailed down your back and made you shiver against him. You gave more and more of yourself with each kiss.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Because he deserved to hear that too.

Sam paused. His eyes were still closed as he recovered some of his breath. He rested his forehead against yours and brushed a tender hand down the soft column of your neck.

"I love you too," he admitted. He had resisted saying it, and even felt a bit ashamed that he'd doubted your feelings. Now, he felt like an idiot for not fighting harder before.

This, what he had with you, it was worth fighting for.

He smiled at the way you kissed his cheek then, soft and slow and with purpose.

After a moment, you pulled away to stroke his cheek once more…and also to tell him one last thing.

“When I saw you again, I did have another thought,” you said. “He’s amazing, but…how can I think that about my best friend’s boyfriend?”

Sam frowned then, as that reality had crossed his mind as well, back when he reconnected with you last year. You held a hand to your chest, over your heart.

“Jess was like a sister to me. So how could I think about you like that? It didn’t matter how much time had passed since her death. That thought, and those feelings still had weight, Sam,” you said. “My point is…try not to be too hard on your brother for this. I think he’d rather lob off an arm than cause you any pain.”

Sam considered your words with a nod.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry,” he said.

“No, I…I’d like to talk to him, if you don’t mind,” you said. “That is, if you trust me.”

Sam’s brows rose, and then furrowed slightly.

“I do, baby,” he said. “You can talk to him if you want, but…I have to. He’s my brother. He should hear it from me too.”

No need, Dean couldn’t help but think.

He pushed off from the wall, twisting a wrench in his hand as he made his way back to the garage.

It stung. Actually, it fucking cut and twisted. More painfully than Dean would ever, ever admit.

However, he knew when he needed to bow out. This was one of those times.

He’d just have to learn how to let you go, for good this time. He wouldn’t risk hurting you, or his brother again.

So once he made it to the end of the hall, he shut the door, once and for all.

Or…

You didn’t want this, for either of them. You couldn’t let yourself be a coward.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you left the safety of the kitchen…

And you ducked out the back way, heading down the hall.

You found Dean exactly where you’d expected—in the garage, getting ready to work on his Baby. He was sitting on a stool with his box of tools beside him. Tools he didn’t let anyone touch (except for that one time you hid his power drill, just to mess with him).

You crossed your arms.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Dean sighed, and spied your stern face over his shoulder.

“What fucking now?” he muttered. You didn't quite hear him, but you recognized his surly frown.

“Yes, right now,” you said. “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Dean asked, raising incredulous brows. “Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You stepped up to him while he swiveled in your direction. “If you supposedly had feelings for me, why did you wait so damn long? Why did you wait until we got here?”

You weren’t just casually dating his brother. You were living with him. Even if it had just been a few months, you loved Sam…and yet, you hadn’t pushed Dean away when he almost kissed you.

Why, why, why? you thought. Your teeth ground together when you thought of how tenderly Dean had touched you. The fire in his eyes, just barely held back by a thin wall of self-restraint.

“Tell me no,” he’d said.

And now, annoyance made his face tight.

“Look, just forget about it, all right? I was drunk—”

“No. You weren’t that drunk,” you refuted. “I’ve seen you slaphappy, laughing at nothing, grinning like the Joker and falling onto the couch face-first, passed out drunk. You were coherent that night. You were honest. So tell me, how long have you felt this way?”

Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this. You both knew that, but he also knew that you weren’t giving him much of a choice.

And yet, you were waiting on him, as patiently as you could manage (something he knew was difficult for you). He sighed deeply.

“Pretty much from the beginning,” he said.

“What?” you said, ever so eloquently. You wanted to cringe at yourself. (And you called yourself a linguist.)

Your lips pursed in disbelief. “What part of the beginning?”

Dean glared heavenward, as if that could stop you from asking questions.

“From the first damn second I saw you,” he snapped. The longer he looked at you, however, he couldn’t help but soften. “I remember, you argued with Sam about dead languages, that Latin was for pussies. Ancient Greek was the tougher beat.”

That was true, you thought. And that argument stemmed back from when you and Sam were in college. Ancient history, you could say.

“The Greeks were more fun too,” you added. It triggered a smile to briefly lighten Dean’s face.

“Yeah, you said something about mass orgies,” he said, his brows furrowing.

You bit your lip at the memory. You might’ve winked at Dean with more confidence than you’d felt at the time.

Now, the man shook his head.

“Right then, I wanted to know you,” he said. “Problem is, the more I did, the more I liked what I saw.”

You stared back at him in dismay.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me from the beginning?” you asked.

Dean made a sound of frustration, carding a hand roughly through his hair.

“Oh, and what, break up the show?” he snarked. He waved haphazardly beyond you, to the moose of a man somewhere beyond the closed doors of the garage. Remembering his brother made Dean’s irritation start to fade, back into self-deprecation.

“You and Sam…you’ve got history,” he said. “He’s smart. He takes care of you, protects you. He’s uh, more the boyfriend type, anyway.”

Dean looked away from you then, crossing his arms. You relaxed yours and couldn’t help but draw near to him. A frown took over your features as you tilted your head.

“Okay, Sam and I have history,” you said with a nod. “But…you don’t think you’re smart too?”

Dean’s lips pursed somewhat as he glanced back up at you. You met his stare.

“You don’t think you’re capable of all those other things?” you asked.

Dean didn’t have an answer for you. At least, not one he was willing to say.

For the past few weeks, you’d been fighting with yourself. You’d turned that moment in the kitchen over and over in your mind, and why you couldn’t do what you were supposed to do.

Now, looking at Dean’s face, you understood why your heart broke for him. Why your heart ached with ridiculous longing for him in equal measure.

You knew then that he’d take care of you. That he’d protect you. And maybe…

“Sam and I don’t make a habit of going after the same girl,” Dean said. Even that, it seemed, was difficult for him to get out.

It broke you from your thoughts, again with your frown.

“Yeah?” you asked. A bit of your temper sparked once again. “Is that why you’re making me Yoko Ono? I’ll tell you something right now. You’re not John and Sam’s not Paul and I refuse to break up the band, Dean!”

“No one’s asking you to!” Dean said, finally raising his voice to match you.

He got off his seat and stood to his full height. Though he wasn’t as tall as his brother, he still towered over you. You craned your head up to glare at him.

His green eyes were once again full of fire. You tried to resist it, but that look made a jolt of electricity zip down your spine, and between your legs.

“Oh, really?” you retorted. “That’s what you want? For me to forget you didn’t shake me the hell up?”

“Yeah, I really fucking would,” Dean gritted out. Even though his heart leapt at your admission, that he’d shaken you up at all.

“Why?” you said. “If you claim to care about me, why would you—”

“Why would you?” he shot back. He gestured at you with a dismissive hand. “The second you saw him, it was like your face lit the hell up. I’m not gonna get in his way. And by the time the you two were together, I just…I didn’t think you…”

Dean cut himself off, turning from you to wipe a frustrated hand over his mouth.

You watched him very closely, all while you made efforts to take in some deep, even breaths. You followed him, and more tentatively, you grabbed onto his wrist to tug him back around.

“Why would I what, Dean? You didn’t think I’d what?” you all but pleaded. Your grip lowered and tightened on his hand.

“Just talk to me,” you said. “Because this is your one and only chance.”

He was reluctant. For once, you could see it written all over his face. Or maybe you were just getting better at reading him.

“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it,” said Dean.

Liar.

He shook his head and slipped his hand out of yours.

“At the end of the day, you saw him, not me,” he said. “So go back upstairs, and we’ll never have to talk about this again.”

Your frown deepened as he sat back down and tried to turn away from you. You were so goddamn mad. At yourself, or at him, you didn’t know what percentages of each.

So you closed the distance between you and Dean and turned him back around, with a firm hand on his shoulder. Even with that small touch, your insides fluttered at the firm muscle there, and the broadness of his frame when he let you move him. He blew out an exasperated breath.

You wavered just slightly, as you contemplated the confession you were about to make. It shamed you, but at the same time, you were woman enough to admit your mistakes.

“I did see you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “But Sam never hesitated to show me what he wanted. And maybe…maybe he was safer. Familiar, and less dangerous.”

Dean’s brows furrowed, incredulous and confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

You couldn’t fault him for it. Your hand eased on his shoulder.

“Dean, seeing Sam again was like getting my best friend back,” you told him. “Back in college, we were thick as thieves. Me and Jess, Sam and Brady. And when you two found me to help with that case, I wouldn’t have ever seen him as anything more than my friend…until he did something about it.”

Your gaze was pointed. Dean’s lips pursed.

“When I met you,” you continued, “it was like the Godfather ‘thunderbolt.’ When you flirted with me, I didn’t know what to do with myself…whereas with Sam, I could fall back on my old habits.”

Dean’s face knitted further, making you sigh.

“With Sam, I’m the person I was when he knew me. The me that never faltered. That had all my shit together,” you said. Your small smile then was self-deprecating at best.

You felt vulnerable. Dean could see it in the way you held yourself. It was costing you something to be this honest, and that meant something to him. His face might've been stoic, but he was hanging on your every word.

“With you…with you I can’t hide," you said. Your voice was softer, slightly trembling. "And that terrifies me, more than monsters.”

Looking into Dean’s eyes again, you found him actually listening. He seemed to be digesting your words, and trying to make sense of them. You reached for him, clenching a hand in his shirt.

“So what was it that you thought I wouldn’t do?” you asked.

Dean studied your face a moment longer. He hesitated.

But he couldn’t keep lying to you either. What you’d just said gave him hope that he wasn’t about to fall flat on his face here.

With a deep, defeated breath, he shook his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

“I just got to thinkin’…” he said. “Why would you give up what you’ve got with him, for me?”

You didn’t know quite what to feel when you looked down at him. Disheartened, sympathetic, annoyed…but most of all, you felt your heart clench.

Your hands framing Dean’s face brought his eyes back to yours. You stepped in between his open legs.

“I’m going to try something. Just once,” you said, biting your lip. “And if it doesn’t work, we won’t speak of this again. Understand?”

A true smile finally twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“All right,” he agreed. You nodded.

Slowly, ever slowly, you leaned down and brushed your lips with his. It was chaste and sweet. Your hands were soft curving along his jawline. His hands found their way to your waist, molding to your shape. That steadied you, and encouraged you to dive back in.

You tilted your head and kissed him a bit deeper. He held you more securely against him, like he was afraid you were going to think better of this and pull away from him.

But you didn’t. His lips were soft and supple and knew how to move against yours. He soon guided you down for a seat on his strong thighs, even though the stool he was sitting on creaked at the added weight.

Then his tongue begged entrance past your lips. If this was his one chance, then damn it, he was going to make the most out of it.

You let him in with a moan. Your fingers tangled in his short hair, your nails dragging down the back of his neck and making a tendril of heat run down his spine. He squeezed your hips, down your thighs, while his lips continued to ravage yours.

It was one hell of a kiss.

But it wasn’t just lust either. At least, not for you. It was warmth, and an overwhelming feeling being right where you were always meant to be.

For Dean, it felt like a craving he wasn't meant to indulge in...but even so, having you in his arms felt as natural as he feared it would be. He didn't just want you. He wanted this. Today, and every day.

When his lips finally dragged away from yours, it took you a moment before you could even open your eyes, let alone catch your breath.

“Damn it,” you whispered.

Dean chuckled, and pulled back just far enough to graze your cheek with his curled fingers.

“Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. You smiled, but it soon fell.

“Oh God, Dean. What’re we gonna do?” you asked. Already there were tears stinging in your eyes. And still, you held him back with your arms curled around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Dean’s relief, and a hidden swell of happiness, also dimmed. “That ship’s sailed, sweetheart."

You sniffed, wiping at your face. “Don’t joke right now, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he said. He held you a fraction tighter. His deep voice rumbled, with desire, longing, and remorse all at once. “I’m actually serious beyond fucking belief.”

You saw everything you needed to see in his eyes. It gave you the strength to be honest.

“So am I,” you nodded, sniffling again. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother. I’ll do it.”

You stroked his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble against your fingers.

“Together, then,” you compromised.

And with an unsettled breath, you reluctantly detangled yourself from Dean. Before this went any further, you needed to talk to Sam. It was easily one of the hardest things you’d ever contemplated doing in your life.

Dean seemed to have similar thoughts as he let you up, then stood along with you. He dragged a hand through his hair again and heaved a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he said. His brows drew together as he considered every alternative reaction his brother might have. None of them were pretty.

You rested a hand on his arm.

“Look, Dean. If we’re going to do this…if I need to leave the bunker, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, as long as you’re in this with me,” you said.

Both your gaze and your will were unwavering. Dean didn’t doubt that you meant every word; that you were willing to jump into the fire with him. And that was just a small fraction of what had made him fall in love with you.

He took your hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“I’m with you,” he replied.

AN: So while it was painful to contemplate both of these scenarios, I hope I did them justice! 🥲

Which ending was your favorite: Sam, or Dean? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

429 notes · View notes

silver-stake-through-the-heart · 8 months

Text

Cas reacting to Sam's remarks when they're alone:

Cas reacting to Sam's remarks... when Dean is around:

he's a poor little meow meow 🥺

#cas being like: deannn i'm hurt your brother is mean to me 🥺#as if he's not always the snarkiest bitch of the room #and dean rushing to comfort him #while sam in the background is certainly like: this is how we usually talk????#cas vs sam #spn 9x11 #spn 11x03 #spn 12x10 #destiel #my post

495 notes · View notes

crushedbyhyperbole · 1 month

Text

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.

Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.

Words: ~3.5k

A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.

Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.

***Minor do not read or interact***

Dean Winchester. You hate him. His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans. Phew-ee!

You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes. Ugh! Asshole!

Tonight had been a tough night. Even Sam was feeling the burn. Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off. Those damn vamps had just kept on coming. Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all. Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.

Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines. One way in, one way out. You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.

Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.

“Guitar string.” He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.

“We’re fucking bait?” You hissed furiously. No, surely not? Dean would never use his brother as bait. Would he? “Goddamn asshole!” You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.

He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight. “Get ready.”

You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight. There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him. If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun. IF you got out alive.

The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off. Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.

Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through. As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see. You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.

Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless. Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.

It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up. Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground. You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.

The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over. You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now. You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.” Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.

You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead. Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore. Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry. When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking. If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.

You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.

After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind. Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people. Aint nothin’ new.”

Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar. The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you. Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did. You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.

You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure. You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.

Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.

So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.

It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox. When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.

You can’t watch this. You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight. You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all. Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.

In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror. No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess. It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman. He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that. Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that. Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets. With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.

A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start. At first you don’t know where you are. So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack. It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.

You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door. Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.

“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.

“I know,” he grumbles, “open up. I got something.”

“It can wait until the morning.”

“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.

“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.

Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned. You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.

“Got you something.” He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly. Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?

“It’s two in the morning, Dean.” You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.

“Peace offering.” He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.

You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops. It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it. You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?” You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.

He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies. “I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.

“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one. So, I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you.” You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.

“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know? But that’s on me.”

What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you? All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys. When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.

“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”

You remember the conversation clearly. It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you. Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything. Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.

“I wish I never said it. I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.” He looks at you again, beseechingly. “Do you think we can start again? Be friends like before?”

You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back. You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.

“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.” Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.

You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him. His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him. He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.

The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes. You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips. You swallow with a sigh. His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.

You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions. He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.

“But you said…”

You shush him with a finger laid over his lips. “I know what I said.”

“Then what did you mean?” He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.

“I wish I’d said yes.”

#dean winchester x reader kiss #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #cloudy's writing

154 notes · View notes

samangstielwinchester · 3 months

Text

Shout out to this one screenshot of Sam and Dean that makes it's way onto hundreds "who did this to you?" romantic book couple aesthetic boards

#Sam and Dean's hands are constantly making an appearance on romantic booktok aesthetic boards #I'm not joking #this was the fourth time I'd seen their hands #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn #s7 #7x02 #whump #hurt/comfort #not that Tumblr tags work lol #who did this to you

180 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 18 days

Text

✨Beyond saving - Pt. 3✨

Summary: I hate summaries, so this is part 3 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, Smut, mention of rape (well, detailed), Language, Angst, Hurt, soft dean (literally), it´s just a loooot

Word Count: 7600

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As another week has passed, Sam entered the kitchen, noticing you sitting alone on the ground, your eyes fixed on the table where Dean had inflicted so much pain upon you. He approached you cautiously, sensing the weight of your emotions hanging heavy in the air.

"Hey", Sam said softly. "How are you holding up?".

You glanced up at him, your eyes weary and filled with sadness. "I'm… I'm trying", you replied hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam sat down beside you, offering a comforting presence as he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "I know it's not easy", he said sympathetically.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into Sam's embrace, the weight of your pain almost too much to bear.

"I know it's hard to believe right now, but Dean still loves you", he said gently. "He's hurting too, maybe even more than you realize. He hates himself for what he's done to you, for what the demonic version of himself did. It wasn't the real Dean, you know that, right?".

You nodded slowly, tears brimming in your eyes as you struggle to come to terms with Sam's words. "I want to believe that. But it's so hard, Sam. Every time I look at him, all I can see is… is what he did to me".

"I know", he mumbled. "But you have to remember that Dean would do anything to take back what happened, to make things right between you two. He's fighting his own demons right now, just like you are. And I know that deep down, he's still the man you fell in love with".

"I know it's going to take time", he said gently. "But I truly believe that you and Dean can find your way back to each other. You've been through so much together, and I know that love doesn't just disappear overnight".

"Thank you, Sam", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you".

Sam smiled warmly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to thank me. We're family, and family looks out for each other. We'll get through this together, I promise".

As the days passed, you found yourself greeted each morning by the aroma of freshly prepared meals and the sight of a bouquet of flowers adorning your doorstep. With each delivery, your heart ached with a mixture of longing and hesitation, unsure of how to respond to Dean's gestures of remorse and affection.

Yet, despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the sincerity of his efforts. Each handwritten note contained memories of the happiest moments you had shared together, reminding you of the love and joy that had once filled your relationship.

With each meal and each note, Dean sought to bridge the gap between you, to remind you of the bond that had once bound you together. And though you remained guarded, the warmth of his gestures began to thaw the icy walls around your heart, slowly but surely.

As you sat alone in your room, reading through Dean's heartfelt words and savoring the meals he had prepared, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within you. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for forgiveness and reconciliation after all. And with that thought in mind, you found yourself daring to believe in the possibility of a brighter future, one where love and trust could prevail over pain and sorrow.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly opening up to the idea of letting him back into your life, of giving him a chance to make amends for the pain he had caused.

With each meal he prepared and each note he left, Dean showed you that he was willing to do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness and rebuild the trust that had been shattered.

Two weeks later, as Sam ordered Pizza, Dean made his way towards sam and the delicious smell. As Dean reached for the pizza, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. Startled, he turned to see you sitting next to Sam, your gaze fixed on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of what to do or say.

But then, a flicker of hope ignited within him as he realized what this moment meant. After weeks of isolation and silence, you had finally taken a step forward.

With cautious optimism, Dean approached you, his movements slow and deliberate. He sat down beside you, careful not to startle you, his heart pounding with uncertainty.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's, uh, it's good to see you".

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his briefly before flickering away. Dean's heart ached at the sight of your pain.

As the dinner progressed, a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional clinking of utensils against plates. Dean tried to muster up the courage to speak, to break the tension that seemed to suffocate the room, but the words caught in his throat.

Your gaze fixed on your plate, unable to meet Dean's eyes or engage in conversation. Every fiber of your being screamed with discomfort, your stomach churning with anxiety from being in such close proximity to him.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. He longed to reach out to you, to apologize for everything he had put you through, but he knew that words alone would never be enough to mend the damage he had caused.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating silence any longer, Sam cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a forced smile. "So, uh, how's the pizza?", he asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the elephant in the room.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak, your throat tight with emotion. Dean swallowed hard, his own discomfort palpable as he forced himself to take a bite of his pizza, the taste turning to ash in his mouth.

Despite his best efforts to push aside his guilt and make things right, Dean couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him like a dark cloud. As the dinner dragged on, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to truly make amends for the pain he had caused you.

As the tension lingered, Sam attempted to lighten the mood with small talk, but his efforts fell flat against the weight of the unspoken turmoil between you and Dean. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the heaviness in the air suffocating.

Dean's heart ached with every glance he stole in your direction, the sight of your pain etched into every line of your face piercing him like a knife. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you, to beg for your forgiveness.

For you, the meal was a torturous ordeal, you struggled to suppress the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you.

After dinner, Sam tentatively suggested watching a movie together, hoping to provide a distraction from the heavy atmosphere that lingered between you and Dean. He could see the strain etched on both of your faces and desperately wanted to find a way to bring a sense of normalcy back to your lives.

You hesitated, the thought of spending more time in Dean's presence filling you with dread. But with a small nod from Sam, you reluctantly agreed.

As Sam set up the movie, you and Dean found yourselves sitting on opposite ends of the couch, a palpable distance separating you. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension, but for the moment, you both focused on the screen in front of you, allowing the movie to serve as a temporary escape from the turmoil that surrounded you.

Despite the heaviness that still hung in the air, there was a glimmer of hope in Sam's eyes as he watched the two of you attempt to coexist in the same space. He knew that healing would take time and effort, but he was determined to do whatever it took to bring his family back together, one small step at a time. And as the movie played on, he silently prayed that tonight would mark the beginning of a new chapter for all of you.

As the movie played on, Dean found it nearly impossible to tear his gaze away from you, his heart aching with every fleeting glance he stole in your direction.

A torrent of guilt and remorse washed over him, threatening to drown him in its depths.

In that moment, Dean would have given anything to ease your suffering, to take away the pain that he had inflicted upon you. If cutting out his own heart and offering it to you would mean healing your wounded soul, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But as he sat there, watching you, he felt utterly powerless, his own torment mirrored in your tear-stained eyes.

Another week passed, and tentatively, you began to open up to Dean once more. Your heart clenched with uncertainty as you heard his voice, but you knew that avoiding him forever would only prolong the pain for both of you. So, you found yourselves sitting across from each other at the large map-table.

Dean's question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. "Are you able to sleep again?", he asked, his voice laced with concern and regret.

You hesitated for a moment, the memories of sleepless nights and haunted dreams flooding back to you. But then, with a small nod, you found the strength to answer. "Yeah, I am", you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was a small victory, but it felt like a significant step forward.

"I'm so sorry", he whispered, his words heavy with regret. "I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for what I did to you".

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you met his gaze. "You hurt me, Dean", you said, your voice quivering with emotion. "You hurt me in ways I never thought possible".

Dean's expression crumpled, his heart breaking as he listened to your words. "I know", he murmured, his voice choked with tears. "I know and I hate myself for it".

"You… you raped me, Dean", you continued, the words catching in your throat. "You violated me in the worst possible way".

Tears fell down Dean's face as he listened to your confession, the weight of his actions bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I'm so sorry", he repeated. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you".

You took a shaky breath, your heart heavy with pain. "I want you to understand", you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I want you to understand what you did to me".

"You shoved me against the table, Dean. You didn't care that I was begging you to stop. You didn't care that I was in pain".

Dean´s voice choked with tears. "I know, I know. I was a monster. I should have never—". But you cut him off. "You broke my wrists, Dean. Do you even realize how much that hurt? Every time I moved, every time I tried to do anything, I was in agony".

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never should have touched you".

By now, your voice was trembling with emotion. "And my ribs, Dean. You broke them too. Every breath felt like knives stabbing into my chest. I couldn't even breathe without feeling like I was going to pass out". Tears started streaming down your face.

"And then you… you fucked me until I bled, Dean. Do you understand what you did to me? Do you understand how much pain you caused?". You paused. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Dean. But I want you to know… I want you to know what you did to me".

Dean sat there with teary eyes and wet cheeks, his heart breaking with each word that fell from your lips. He listened to the pain in your voice, the anguish in your eyes.

Every detail you recounted of the horrors he had inflicted upon you pierced his soul like a thousand knives. He couldn't bear to look away, couldn't bear to turn his gaze from your tear-streaked face.

In that moment, he felt the weight of his actions crush him with a force he had never known before. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to hold you close. But he knew that he didn't deserve it, knew that he had caused you too much pain to ever be worthy of your love again.

All he could do was sit there, his heart heavy with regret, and pray that somehow, someday, he could find a way to make amends for the irreparable damage he had done.

"I lay there for hours", you confessed, the memories still vivid in your mind. "I couldn't move, couldn't even catch my breath. Every inch of my body was screaming in pain, and all I could do was lie there and pray for it to end".

You continue, your voice laced with bitterness and sorrow. "After that, I stopped looking for you", you admit, the words heavy on your tongue. "I stopped trying to save you, stopped caring".

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words sinking in.

Dean's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he listened to your words, his knuckles white from the tight grip he held on his emotions. "I wanted to kill myself", he confessed in a voice barely above a whisper. "That's how much I hated myself for what I did to you".

Your words cut through the heavy silence like a knife, each syllable dripping with the bitterness of your pain. "I'm already dead because of what you did to me", you said, your voice laced with a coldness that sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

His eyes closed in anguish, the weight of your words bearing down on him like a crushing burden. You were his everything, the love of his life, and the thought of spending his days without you was unbearable.

"I wanted to marry you, to build a future together", Dean whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I wanted to have children with you, to grow old with you by my side. But I… I broke you".

The pain and heartache radiating from him was palpable, and despite your own suffering, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the man who had once held your heart in his hands.

"I know", you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're hurting, Dean. But… but what you did to me, it's something I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive".

Dean's shoulders sagged with the weight of your words, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"I understand", he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I don't expect you to forgive me, not after what I've done".

During the following two weeks, Dean spared no effort to demonstrate that he was no longer the monster he had once been. He cooked for you, cleaned the bunker without being asked, and even went out of his way to avoid any situation that might make you uncomfortable. Every gesture was infused with a desperate longing for redemption, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

As you sat in the TV room, enveloped by the soft glow of the screen, a bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap, you felt a sense of tentative peace settle over you. It was the first evening Dean and you had been alone since Sam and Cas had left on their hunt, and for once, the weight of the past seemed to lift ever so slightly from your shoulders.

Lost in the movie playing before you, you barely noticed when Dean appeared in the doorway. His eyes lingered on you, filled with longing.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. But then, with a hesitant step forward, Dean cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room.

"Mind if I join you?", he asked, his voice tentative as he gestured to the empty space beside you on the couch.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to push him away and the faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time. After a moment's pause, you nodded silently, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

As Dean settled in beside you, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with gratitude and relief.

Dean watched you, his gaze lingering on your profile as you became engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. A flicker of recognition crossed his features as he realized it was the same movie from your first night together in the bunker—the night when everything had felt so new and full of promise.

"You remember this?", he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced at you, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as memories of that night flooded back. "Yeah", you replied, your voice tinged with warmth. "It feels like a lifetime ago".

Dean's expression softened at your words, sadness clouding his features. "I miss those days", he admitted. "I miss us".

You turned to look at him. "I miss us too", you whispered.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, lost in memories of happier times.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope or forgiveness. "Are you willing to give me another chance?", he asked quietly. "All I want is to make things right, to hold you in my arms and ease your pain. I want to heal what I destroyed, to show you that I'm not the same person I was back then".

You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and regret reflected in their depths. Part of you wanted to believe him. But another part of you was still wary, still hesitant to open yourself up to the possibility of being hurt again.

"I don't know, Dean", you admitted. "I want to believe that you're capable of being the man I once loved. But… I'm scared. Scared of getting hurt again".

Dean's heart sank at your words. "I understand", he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to show you that I'm worthy of a second chance. Just… please don't give up on me".

As you sat there, grappling with the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you, memories of your past with Dean flooded your mind. You couldn't deny the depth of your love for him, even now, despite the pain and betrayal you had endured.

You remembered the way he used to make you laugh, the warmth of his embrace, and the way his touch could make your heart race with excitement. Despite everything that had happened, a part of you still longed for those moments of intimacy and connection that you had once shared with him.

But alongside the memories of love and happiness, there was also the lingering shadow of pain. You couldn't forget the agony of that fateful night, the way Dean had shattered your trust and left you broken and bruised.

Yet, as you looked into his eyes now, you saw the same love and longing reflected back at you.

Dean's voice trembled with emotion as he opened up to you, his words raw and filled with longing. "I've missed you so much", he mumbled. "I miss the way you used to sleep on my chest, your soft breathing. I miss the sound of your laughter, the way it could light up a room and make all the darkness disappear".

He reached out tentatively, as if afraid you might pull away, and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Without you, I'm lost".

You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you listened to his words, seeing the pain and vulnerability in his eyes. Despite everything that had happened between you, you couldn't deny the depth of his love for you, or the longing in his voice as he spoke of wanting to make things right.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with Dean, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. A whirlwind of emotions churned inside you—fear, longing, uncertainty—each vying for dominance as you grappled with the decision before you.

Part of you wanted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of your own walls and protect yourself from the possibility of being hurt again. But another part of you, a part that still held onto the memories of love and happiness you had shared with Dean, yearned for connection, for healing, for the chance to rebuild what had been broken between you.

And so, with trembling hands and a heart that threatened to burst from your chest, you leaned in slowly, ever so slowly, towards Dean. Each inch felt like an eternity, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders as you closed the distance between you.

As your lips met his in a tentative kiss, a surge of emotion washed over you, overwhelming in its intensity. It was a moment of vulnerability, of raw honesty, as you allowed yourself to let go of the pain and hurt that had consumed you for so long.

You cupped Dean's face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours.

Dean hesitated for a moment, unsure where to place his hands, afraid of scaring you away with too much intimacy. His heart clenched at the touch of your lips, a familiar ache settling in his chest as he finally felt the softness of your kiss again after so long.

Despite the pain that lingered in your heart, there was a sense of comfort in Dean's embrace, a familiarity that whispered of happier times gone by. For a moment, the world fell away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, each kiss a silent promise of hope and redemption.

But beneath the surface, there was still a lingering sense of uncertainty, a fear of the unknown that threatened to overshadow the fragile connection you were trying to rebuild. And yet, as you pulled away from the kiss, a glimmer of hope flickered in your heart.

With a shaky, uncertain voice, you whispered the words that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue, the silent plea of your heart reaching out to him. "Hold me", you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling with the weight of your uncertainty.

Dean's heart skipped a beat at your request, his chest tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin as tears welled in your eyes.

Dean's hands trembled as he gingerly brushed over your back, his touch tentative yet filled with a quiet tenderness. With each gentle stroke, he tried to convey the depth of his remorse, the ache in his heart mirrored in the way his fingers traced soothing patterns against your trembling form.

You clung to him tightly, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you let out the pain and anguish. Your body shook with the force of your sobs, the emotional turmoil threatening to consume you entirely.

With a tenderness born of regret and longing, Dean pulled you closer to him, his lips hovering over your forehead as he held you in his embrace. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back as you continued to sob against his chest.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes as he looked down at you, his heart heavy with the weight of his past mistakes and the knowledge of the pain he had caused you.

"I love you", he whispered softly, his voice filled with emotion. "More than anything in this world. I'm so sorry for what I've done to you, for the pain I've caused. But please know that my love for you has never faltered, not for a single moment".

As you looked up at him, your tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips betraying the turmoil within you, Dean's thumb gently brushed away your tears with a tenderness that spoke volumes. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance that this fragile moment of connection wouldn't shatter beneath the weight of your shared past.

With a trembling breath, you leaned into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips met yours once more. The kiss was featherlight, tentative yet filled with an undeniable longing—a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a chance to start anew.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of raw emotion and longing. With a newfound sense of courage, you straddled Dean's legs, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as you deepened the kiss, your lips moving with a desperate urgency born of years of pent-up emotion and longing.

Dean's hands remained at his sides, a silent testament to his fear of causing you further pain or discomfort. He was surprised by your boldness, by the intensity of your kiss, but he dared not move, afraid that any sudden gesture might startle you and send you fleeing from his arms once more.

Instead, he surrendered to the moment, allowing himself to be consumed by the warmth of your lips, the softness of your touch.

As the kiss intensified, your tongue seeking entrance to his mouth, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins. Your hands roamed over Dean's broad shoulders, urging him to reciprocate, to touch you in return. Yet, he remained still, his hands trembling slightly at his sides as if unsure of what to do.

But then, as you pressed closer, seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace, you felt it—a hardness pressing against you, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Dean's erection, unmistakable beneath the thin fabric of your pajamas, sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body, freezing you in place.

For a moment, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to proceed. The realization of what was happening between you, of the undeniable attraction and desire that pulsed between your bodies, sent your mind reeling. Could this be happening? Could Dean still desire you, after everything that had transpired between you?

But before you could gather your thoughts, Dean's voice broke through.

"I… I'm sorry", Dean murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn't mean to… I just…".

His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet your eyes. You could see the conflict etched on his face, the turmoil raging within him as he grappled with his own desires and fears.

"It's okay", you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached out to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours.

But even as you spoke the words, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your mind. Could you truly forgive Dean for what he had done? Could you trust him again, after the pain and betrayal he had inflicted upon you?

As you took Dean's hands in yours, feeling the tremble of your own shaking fingers, you guided them slowly and cautiously to your hips. The simple act of touch sent a jolt of electricity through both of you, causing Dean's heart to race and his body to react with a twitch of arousal.

But despite the undeniable chemistry between you, Dean remained hesitant, his eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort. He wanted to be sure, absolutely sure, that you were okay with this, that you were ready to take this step together.

For a moment, the air between you crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between your bodies. But then, as you met his gaze with unwavering determination, Dean felt a surge of courage welling up inside him.

With a shaky breath, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft, gentle, a silent promise of all the things left unsaid between you.

Dean's voice trembled as he spoke, his words laced with both desire and restraint. "Do you… Do you want to go to our bedroom?", he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or reluctance.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you at his words, a mixture of longing and apprehension swirling in your chest. The idea of being alone with Dean in the intimacy of your shared bedroom filled you with both excitement and trepidation, a reminder of the love and passion that had once defined your relationship.

But as you looked into Dean's eyes, seeing the vulnerability, you knew that this was a chance for healing, for closure, for the two of you to finally confront the demons of your past and forge a path forward together.

With a nod, you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently as you rose to your feet. "Yes", you whispered.

Dean walked slowly, his footsteps deliberate and measured, as if he were afraid to rush or startle you. His hand, warm and comforting, brushed against yours in a gentle caress, a silent reassurance of his presence by your side.

As you followed behind him, the hallway stretched out before you like an endless expanse, each step echoing the rhythm of your racing heart. And as Dean finally reached the door to your bedroom, he turned to look at you, his eyes soft with emotion. Without a word, he reached out and gently pushed the door open, inviting you into the sanctuary of your shared space.

With a shaky breath, you stepped across the threshold, the weight of the past hanging heavy in the air around you. But as Dean closed the door behind you, shutting out the outside world, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Dean hesitated for a moment. "Is it okay if I… if I pick you up?", he asked softly.

You nodded slowly, your own voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Yes, that's okay".

With a gentle smile, Dean reached out and scooped you up in his arms, his touch surprisingly tender as he cradled you against his chest. Despite the years that had passed, the memory of his strength and warmth flooded back to you, comforting and familiar.

As he carried you across the room, his movements slow and deliberate, you felt a sense of trust and safety wash over you, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that still existed between you.

And as he carefully lowered you onto the bed, his touch was feather-light against your skin.

As Dean hovered halfway over you, he hesitated, his voice trembling with nerves as he asked, "Would… would it be better if you were on top?".

You noticed the veins on his throat and arms standing out, evidence of the effort he was exerting to hold back for you. "It's alright", he mumbled. "If you want to be on top, it's fine".

His eyes searched yours for a moment, before you nodded slowly and before Dean lowered himself down beside you, his body trembling with anticipation and desire.

Dean´s fingers trembling slightly as he began to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt.

With a gentle touch, he lowered his mouth to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin as his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Are you okay?", he asked softly, his voice laced with concern as he brushed the shirt off your shoulders, revealing your naked breasts to him.

You met his gaze with a mixture of emotions swirling in your eyes—vulnerability, longing, and a hint of fear. But despite the tumultuous storm raging within you, you nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm okay", you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

With a gentle touch, Dean leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss, his hands trailing down your body as he continued to undress you, his touch both reverent and filled with longing.

As you straddled his la, got rid of his shirt and pulled Dean closer, your body pressed against his, you feel the warmth of his skin against yours, sending shivers down your spine. Your nipples graze against his now naked chest, eliciting a soft moan from both of you. Dean's arousal, evident and undeniable, presses eagerly against you.

Dean's hand ventured beneath your pajama pants, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. As his fingers brushed against your skin, he realized you weren't wearing underwear, and a soft gasp escaped his lips. His hand hovered tantalizingly close to your pussy, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Can I touch you there?", he asked quietly.

Dean's heart skipped a beat as he watched you nod slowly, your breath heavy and your heart racing in sync with his own. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to crackle with electricity. With a nervous bite of your lip, you gave him the permission he sought, sending a surge of desire coursing through his veins.

His hand trembled slightly as it moved lower, tracing the contours of your soft folds. You let out a soft moan of pleasure, your body arching instinctively towards his touch.

Dean's touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. With each gentle stroke, he teased and tantalized, his fingers dancing over your most intimate parts with a skill that left you breathless. Your head spun with desire as he explored every inch of you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each passing moment.

As the heat between you grew, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace. In that moment, there was nothing else that mattered—no past, no future, only the raw, primal desire that burned between you.

As Dean felt the warmth and wetness between your thighs, he knew you were ready. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to ease down your pajama pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

"You okay?", he murmured softly, his voice laced with concern as he continued to undress you.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you struggled to contain your desire. "Yes, Dean", you whispered. "I want this".

With a final tug, your pants were discarded, leaving you completely exposed before him. And as Dean rid himself of his own sweatpants and boxers, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him—powerful and virile, his desire evident in every line and curve of his body.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of Dean's erection, fear and uncertainty flashing in your eyes as he hovered above you. Sensing your hesitation, Dean froze, his own desire momentarily forgotten as he looked down at you with concern.

"Are you okay?", he asked softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort or unease.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "I'm just… I'm scared", you admitted.

Dean's expression softened, a look of understanding and compassion flickering in his eyes. "I won't hurt you, I promise", he whispered. "I'll go as slow as you need me to".

Feeling reassured by his words, you let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you", you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As Dean continued to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle against yours, you couldn't help but feel a sense of tension and apprehension creeping into your body. Despite his best efforts to reassure you, you remained nervous and tense, unable to fully let go of the fear that still lingered within you.

Sensing your unease, Dean pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours again. When he saw the hurt reflected in your gaze, his heart clenched.

"What can I do to help you relax?", he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I want to make this special for you, to show you how much I care. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it".

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to express the turmoil raging within you. But then, with a shaky breath, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need… I need you to be patient with me", you admitted, your words tinged with vulnerability. "I need you to understand that I'm still scared. And I need you to hold me, to reassure me that everything will be okay".

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest in a tight embrace. And as you melted into his arms, you felt a sense of comfort and safety wash over you, the tension slowly beginning to ebb away in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'll be gentle, I promise", he murmured, his voice soothing and tender. "We'll go slow, at your pace. Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?".

You nodded, a sense of trust and gratitude washing over you as you buried your face in his chest. "Okay", you whispered.

With a gentle sigh, Dean leaned down and captured your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. His touch was soft and tentative, his lips moving against yours with a tender reverence that made your heart flutter.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his erection pressing against your wet folds, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite your lingering apprehension, you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you, the desire that burned hot and fierce between your bodies.

With a soft moan, you pressed yourself against him, your hips rocking instinctively against his, seeking the delicious friction that would ease the ache deep within you.

Dean’s breath was heavy with anticipation as he looked down at you, his eyes burning with desire and longing. “Can I…?”, he began, nodding towards his between the two of you. His hand moved to his shaft, as if to emphasize his need.

Your heart raced at the thought of finally feeling him inside you again, of surrendering yourself to the passion and intensity of your shared desire. But a flicker of uncertainty danced in your eyes, a lingering reminder of the pain and heartache that had once torn you apart.

“I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with”, he assured you. “I just want to make you feel good, to show you how much I love you”.

With a shaky nod, you reached out and took his hand in yours, guiding him towards you. As his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, you felt the heat and urgency of his desire washing over you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

As Dean pressed slowly inside you, his movements careful and measured as he sought to ease your discomfort. But as he felt you wince beneath him, he immediately stopped, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you met Dean’s gaze. “It’s okay”, you assured him, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I just… I need a moment”.

Dean nodded understandingly, his heart aching at the sight of your discomfort. “I’ll stop”, he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “I should have been more patient with you, especially after… after everything”.

You reached out and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You’ve always been patient with me”, you murmured, your voice filled with gratitude and love. “Even before that awful night”.

Dean’s eyes softened at your words. “I just want to make things right”, he whispered.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I want you to go on", you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to replace those memories of that terrible night with something beautiful, something loving".

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, his heart swelling. "Are you sure?".

You nodded, your gaze never wavering as you met his eyes with unwavering determination. "I'm sure", you whispered. "I want this, Dean. I want us".

As Dean slowly pushed himself inside you, the sensation of being filled with him once again sent shivers down your spine. You moaned softly and breathlessly, your body instinctively responding to his touch. But just as Dean buried himself completely within you, the memories of that terrible night crashed over him like a tidal wave.

His movements faltered, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the weight of his past mistakes bearing down on him. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to push the memories aside, to focus on the here and now, on the love and desire that flowed between you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the haunting images that lingered in the depths of his mind.

Feeling himself going soft again inside you, Dean’s heart clenched with frustration and self-loathing. He wanted nothing more than to give you pleasure, to show you how much he loved you, but the ghosts of his past refused to release their grip on him.

With a heavy sigh, Dean pulled away from you. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I can’t do this right now”. His gaze full of shame, as he got up from the bed and started to get dressed.

As you pulled up the blanket, your heart sank at the sight of Dean's retreating figure. Anxiety gnawed at your insides as you watched him hastily get dressed, his movements tense and hurried. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one more tumultuous than the last.

Was it something you did? Something you said? Was your hesitation the reason he couldn't stay hard? The weight of your own self-doubt threatened to suffocate you as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

Dean couldn't even look at you right now, so consumed was he by his own guilt and remorse.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him hastily getting dressed, his actions leaving you feeling confused and hurt. The weight of your own self-doubt pressed down on you like a heavy burden as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Was it because of me?”.

Dean paused, his hand hovering over his belt as he turned to face you. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. But before he could utter a word, the door swung open, and Sam burst into the room, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight before him.

Misinterpreting the situation, Sam’s eyes darted between you and Dean, confusion evident on his face. “What’s going on?”, he asked, his voice tinged with concern as he took in the scene before him.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 4

Taglist: @mayafatimakhan

#jensen ackles #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #spn #hurt/comfort #hurtful #violent love #love

109 notes · View notes

hunterscabin · 11 months

Text

After The Storm

Summary: Dean takes care of the reader after a bad hunt.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Injury; hurt/comfort; anxiety

Word Count: <1K

Author’s Note: It’s been a long few months; I wrote this mostly for myself, but I hope you all can enjoy it too!

Dean took off his clothes before reaching into the shower. He turned on the water, and once he was satisfied with the temperature, moved to stand in front of you.

There were no words spoken as Dean gingerly unbuttoned your flannel, which was sodden with dirt and blood. The hunt had taken something from everyone, but you suffered the brunt end of a plan gone wrong. Now, your entire body ached and your mind stung like an exposed nerve.

Dean’s eyes settled on your face as he gathered the fabric and slid the shirt past your shoulders. Moving his fingers gently under your second layer, his palms grazed your stomach. You winced as you raised your arms and Dean’s heart tensed at the sight of your pain. He unclasped your bra, hooking his fingers under the straps, careful to avoid your injuries as he slid the stained lingerie down your arms.

After undressing you, he placed his hand in the small of your back and led you to the shower. You stepped in, and the water felt sharp, biting the many cuts and bruises covering your body. The painful sensation combined with your waning adrenaline sent your emotions into overdrive, and you felt tears begin to mix with the warm water.

Dean took your face in his hands and placed tender kisses at the corners of your eyes, on each cheek, and finally your lips. You met his gaze and saw in him all the comfort you’ve ever needed. Cradling your head, Dean stepped into you, and you buried your face in his chest. A strong arm wrapped around your back and pulled you close. Tears still fell, but you allowed yourself to relax into him.

You felt Dean reach behind you and the scent of your favorite soap slowly filled the shower as he lathered a washcloth. He delicately dragged the sudsy clouds across your body. Dean had bathed you in the past, but it was always sensual, pleasurable. His movements were still filled with affection, but he was hesitant, distracted by the defeat etched on your face and the fear that caused you to tremble. Desperate to alleviate your pain, Dean began to pray. As his large hands continued to clean you, he silently prayed that your anxiety and doubt would be erased. He prayed for forgiveness for not being able to protect you. He prayed that the years of trauma incurred by hunting would be sent down the drain with the dirty water. He prayed for healing. It’s unclear if his prayers were answered immediately or if you had simply acclimated to the rhythm of the water, but Dean could feel your muscles begin to release their tension.

Finishing, Dean kissed your neck and placed two strong hands on your shoulders. He turned you away from him, and having adjusted to the pressure, you let the stream of warm water hit your chest and cascade down your body. You heard Dean uncap a bottle before his long fingers worked their way through your hair. The sensation of having your scalp massaged so lovingly allowed you to release the breath you’d been holding long after everyone had reached safety. You took the opportunity to inhale slowly, basking in the sandalwood musk of Dean’s shampoo. He detached the showerhead to rinse you before making quick work of cleaning himself.

When the water began to lose some of its heat, Dean turned off the faucet, reached outside the curtain, and pulled a towel off the wall. He dried you before wrapping the towel under your arms. You held the fluffy fabric against your body while Dean grabbed a second towel. This one he used to dry your hair before wrapping it around his waist.

“Stay here,” he whispered, kissing your temple, “I’ll be right back.”

Your body felt like taffy, and you focused on grounding yourself in the lingering warmth of the shower. Dean returned moments later with your coziest pajama bottoms and one of his favorite t-shirts.

He helped you slip into the clothes before seating you in front of your vanity. He took out a brush and gently combed your hair. Running a hand over your head after each stroke. Dean then disinfected and bandaged your wounds. All of this with a towel still around his waist, wanting to make sure that you were cared for and comfortable before letting himself get dressed.

Dean planted a sweet kiss on the crown of your head before bending down to pick you up. He carried you to bed, tucking you in before moving toward his dresser. He slipped into a pair of boxers and ruffled his hair with the towel from his waist. As you let yourself sink into the soft mountain of pillows, Dean retreated back into the bathroom to hang up the towels before joining you in bed.

The mattress dipped as Dean climbed in, and you allowed yourself to fall toward him. Dean slipped an arm around you and you laid your head on his chest. He pulled the blankets over both of you and wrapped his free hand around your waist, pulling you into him. You took another intentional breath, and attempted to release some of the day with a long exhale. Dean kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes. No matter how treacherous this life could be, you were eternally thankful to always have a home in the arms of Dean Winchester.

Masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

481 notes · View notes

profoundbondfanfic · 4 months

Text

The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man by orphan_account Rating: Mature Word Count: 87k

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

From the start, a hint of the supernatural offers readers a mystery that takes twists and turns you'll never expect. Dean is found by Park Ranger Castiel hanging from a tree. It's suspected to be a suicide, and since when Dean recovers, he won't speak, no one knows that it was actually his father who hung him by force.

Dean is terrified, damaged, and has so many trust issues it would take the most patient person in the universe to wade through them. Fortunately, Cas is the most patient person in the universe.

Dean slowly comes out of his shell the longer he's with Castiel, beginning to speak a word or two but only to Cas, and doing some mechanic and general work at the park ranger's station. Bobby, the lead park ranger, takes a special interest in him, giving him work and even paying him a little under the table since no one knows exactly who Dean is.

But when his father is spotted searching for him, Dean tries to run, coming back to Cas only with the promise of safety and protection. But when the truth about Dean's origins comes to the surface it's darker than Castiel could have ever imagined.

As their feelings grow, Dean and Cas find comfort in each other as the rest of the world unravels around them. A gorgeous story of love, hope, and survival.

#destiel #fic rec #mature #50k to 100k #au #modern setting #domestic #hurt and comfort #mute #hurt!dean #soft!dean #strangers to lovers #slow burn #protective!castiel #abusive family #ptsd #The Hanged Man #Author: orphan_account

164 notes · View notes

wild-lavender-rose · 5 months

Text

I Choose You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: You wake up in the hospital after a brutal beating with a demon that nearly killed you. Thinking he had lost you, Dean shows you just how much you mean to him.

Warning: Mention of injuries, mild language

Note: This is yet another story I found in my drafts from over two years ago that I started and didn’t finish. Probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy <3

“Baby,” your brow furrowed, reaching out to brush your hand against Dean’s arm. “Dean.”

Dean’s head jerked up from where he had been slumped over your bedside. “Baby.” He grabbed your hand, eyes glassy with exhaustion and tears.

“Dean,”

“I’m here, baby, I’m here.” He reached for you, cradling the side of your face. “How’re you feelin’?”

“M’sore.” You looked around you, foggy head beginning to clear. You were in the hospital. Machines beeped by your bed, keeping track of your pulse. Your arms were covered with thick white bandages. Much of your exposed skin was littered with scratches and ugly purple bruises. Sam was in the corner asleep in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. He looked awful but Dean looked worse.

“What, why am I,” you reached up, fingers curling around his wrist. “The demon.”

“Got you pretty bad.”

“Did you get him?”

“Sent him straight back to hell.” Dean made a brave attempt at a smile for you, but his eyes continued to shine with unshed tears.

“Dean.” You nuzzled against his palm, kissing his skin with chapped lips. “Dean,”

“I thought,” Dean cleared his throat, glancing over at Sam before returning his focus to you. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m okay, just a couple scratches.” You tried to lean closer but winced, causing Dean to grimace. “I promise I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. God I hate this life,” A tear slipped down Dean’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have been in that fight, I should have protected you,”

“Dean, I chose to fight by your side,”

“You shouldn’t have to choose that, I shouldn't be a hunter in the first place!”

“Shh,” you looked over at Sam to make sure he was still asleep, watching his relaxed face for a moment before looking back at Dean. “Dean,”

Dean had his head in his hands, shoulders taunt with frustration and so, so many unshed tears. You nudged him, hand slipping through his hair and sliding to his neck when he looked up at you. “It’s worth it.” You whispered, eyes beginning to sting with tears of your own. “We save people, Dean. We hunt monsters and send them back to hell.”

“Baby, you nearly died,”

“And I'd do it again, okay?” The tears began to fall as you grabbed his hand and held it tight. “I choose you, Dean. And this life. I don't wanna be or do anything else.”

Dean smiled at that, a smile soft and pained. And still, after everything he’d been through, a smile. For you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed his bruised knuckles, closing your eyes as Dean shifted closer to kiss your forehead. “You’re mine.”

Dean chuckled softly. “And you’re mine.” He whispered, sealing the promise with another kiss.

#dean winchester #dean #Supernatural Dean Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean x #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural dean #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #dean hurt comfort #dean winchester hurt comfort

193 notes · View notes

winchiya1 · 16 days

Text

Sorry, I can’t stop reading fics with hurt!Dean and protective/caring/comfort/supportive!Sam because Dean with his dedication and pain throughout his life breaks my heart, but Sam’s love and care for him heals me ❤‍🩹❤‍🩹❤‍🩹

#my art #supernatural #supernatural fanart #spn #spnfandom #spn fanart #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam & dean #sam and dean #wincest #wincest art #hurt/comfort #art #fanart #digital art #drawing #sketch

88 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Hey I don't know if you've ever done a Winchester!sister story with the sister being really young and also much younger then her brothers, so I don't know if you would be able to do this request for me but I really hope you can:)

Anyway the request is 2 year old reader wakes her brothers up by crying and they get up and find her in her crib her onsie pajamas buttons is open as if she tried to get rid of it and then when Dean picks her up he feels the heat radiating from her.

Both Dean and Sam know they have to take care of the situation. Dean takes her temperature, and they find out she is sick and they take care of her and so on and so on. This is just a type of summary so you can change things as much as you like. I love a good fluff and angst story;)

Loveee your writing and can't wait for this story❤️❤️❤️

Sick Bug

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sickness

Exciting sidenote: I am 2 followers away from 1K!!

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You were crying again. Poor baby had been restless all day, tossing and turning as if you were trying to escape a force that wasn’t there. At first your brothers thought you were just over tired: the three of you had been on the road all day. Travelling with a toddler was dangerous business, so Sam and Dean tried not to do it often, but with Cas MIA and Bobby out of town they were left with no choice.

They had lay you down to rest not too long ago, but you had been restless since then. You had protested being put to bed in the first place, clinging to Dean with your little hands but after some coaxing he had managed to get you to sleep. That and you were absolutely exhausted and struggling to keep your little eyes open.

Then your eyes had come flying open and your little whimpers filled the room. You were too hot and felt like you were going to suffocate as your squirmed, trying your unbutton your pyjamas. Your head ached and your sinuses were uncomfortably blocked, throwing you off balance.

Dean rose slowly from his slumber, altered by your cries. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he made his way to your crib where you were sat up trying to struggle out of your onesie. Sam rolled over to glance at your from his bed. He hadn’t really been sleeping, but seeing as Dean had made his way over to you he didn’t feel the need to.

“What’s the matter, huh sweetheart?” Dean frowned as he reached out to pick you up. Your arms reached out instinctively to grab him as you continued to cry.

The second you were in Deans arms he became increasingly worried about the warmth that radiated off of you and he shot a look to Sam who, at his brothers concerning lack of speech, clambered out of bed and moved cumbersomely towards you.

You buried your face into the crook of Deans’s neck trying to hide from the ache. His skin provided some relief and you sniffled. Dean further furrowed his brow. Your skin was hot. Too hot.

“Sweetheart?” Dean tried to coax your face away from his neck. He brushed away the stray hairs that your cold flush of sweat had plastered to the edge of your face before pressing his palm to your forehead. “She’s warm, Sammy.”

“You feeling poorly, kiddo?” Sam asked, taking you from Deans arms. You clung to him closely and nodded feebly.

Dean moved quickly towards the first aid kit, rummaging around for the thermometer as Sam bounced you up and down gently in his arms to try and soothe you a little. The eldest Winchester’s movements were somewhat panicked as he pulled out the glass cylinder.

“Alrighty sweetheart, open up.” He tried to persuade you to place the tube under your tongue. When you finally stopped trying to turn your tired face away and they had convinced you to hold it in your mouth for long enough, Sam pulled out to reveal that the line had skyrocketed to 101.

“Fever.” Sam confirmed, showing his brother the thermometer. He shifted you in his arms. “Explains why she can’t sleep.”

Suddenly you were overtaken by a fit of harsh, dry coughs that tore through you. Sam winced, rubbing you back gently.

“S’mmy…” you blubbered gripping his shirt tightly.

“Shh. It’s alright sweetheart we’ve got you.” Sammy moved over to the bed, still cradling you in his arms. He looked up at Dean. Realistically he knew that you would be fine, but he had never dealt with anything like this before and it worried him.

Dean on the other hand knew how to handle the situation. He had dealt with Sammy being ill plenty of times when he was younger. But when he looked at your flushed and sweaty cheeks and the way your body shivered ever so slightly, he couldn’t help but feel awful. As though he should have found someone to take care of you instead. But watching you curled up in his brother’s arms he realised he had more pressing matters to worry about.

Moving back to the first aid box, he pulled out a dose of medicine, cursing silently when you were overrun by another coughing fit. It was followed by another whimper. Sam slowly removed the outer layer of your onesie hoping that he could cool you down quicker. Still you clung to him closely, too young to understand that you might get him sick as you sniffled against him, but Sam didn’t care. He would risk being sick if it meant taking away your pain.

“Here we go sweetheart.” Dean wandered back over, a cool glass of water on one hand and a medicine in the other: one of those small sachets that they kept on hand in case of emergencies. “This will help you feel all better.” He promised.

Reaching out you held onto the cup, and with Deans help took a few sips. The icy water soothed the back of your throat and you sighed in content, setting back into Sam a little. It took a little more convincing for you to take the medicine. Tired and overwhelmed you had tried to refuse the bitter taste. But in the end Sam had promised you that you would feel much better if you took it, so reluctantly you let the liquid slide over your tongue.

It wasn’t long after that that you began to grow tired. Your little eyes struggled to stay awake as you lay curled up in Sam’s lap. Dean had perched beside him, watching shitty cartoons to help keep him awake so he could monitor your temperature in case you got any worse. Though as your ragged breaths evened out into tiny half-snores, the medicine seemed to be doing its job as your temperature seemed to slowly fall back down to a slightly more normal number.

At some point, Sam had also fallen asleep. Rubbing circles on your back and smoothing over your hair had lulled him into slumber. Dean smirked and pulled the bedcovers over the two of you. It looked like you weren’t going back to your bed tonight.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #hurt/comfort #sick fic #Sam Winchester #sam x sister reader #sam Winchester x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #Sam Winchester x little sister reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester x little sister reader #spn #spn fanfic

280 notes · View notes

octoberclidan · 1 year

Text

You're Safe Here

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Note: This was requested anonymously. It's definitely one of my longer pieces, I hope you like it! There is reference to and description of domestic abuse and issues with both mental and physical health issues.

Request: The reader is running from her past. Her ex is an abusive ass. One day he had hurt her so bad, that she was left to die in their shared apartment. With a fractured skull, several fractured ribs and a stab wound to her lungs her neighbor found her and calls 911.

After being discharged not fully healed she packs a bag and tries to run from the bad memories. She goes to the next bus stop and never turns back. Several days sitting in different busses in her weakened state she decides that this should be her new hometown... But it's getting dark and sooner rather than later she is lost in the woods of this god forsaken town. Too weak to go any further she collapsed in front of the Winchester's bunker. The two find her after coming home from a hunt. They bring her in and Dean is immediately taken aback from her beauty but wonders why her body is littert with bruises. When she comes to she instantly panics because she thinks her ex found her. They keep her calm and after some days she trust these two handsome strangers, but never tells her story. Because of the injuries, which are still healing she often suffers from severe migraine attacks and also is out of breath fast because of her damaged lung.

Time passes by and the three are thick as thieves. But the two brothers want to know her story, what had happened to her that day in summer when they found her. Now it's winter and they actually only know some small thinks about her. Although she really likes the boys (especially Dean ;)) and trust them she lives in constant fear of her ex. Because of that stress her migraines get really bad (heavy dizziness, nausea, visual disorder). She tries to hide her bad condition but the observant brother don't eat her shit. After some rough days of her in constant pain and migraine attacks and the boys taking care of her, she has a full blown panic attack at night. The boys are instantly at her side, calming her down. But she is so out of it and just keeps mumbling apologies and pleads that they don't hurt her. Finally Sam and Dean do the math and are suspicious what might had happened to her. Dean, who is in love with her, gets so angry that he is discussing very loudly with Sam and the reader eavesdrops the wohle thing but just hears that Dean is disappointed in her because she was not honest with her truth. In her confused state she leaves the bunker. In just some thin Leggins and one of Dean's sweater she gets lost in the woods, a snow storm raging over the city. Too exhausted collapsed and has hallucinations about her past. Sooner rather than later the boys notice her disappearance and search for their friend. They find her deathly pale lying in the snow, sweating from a fever and the hallucinations....

It would be fantastic if you can come up with an happy end. They treat her and she apologizes for her lies concerning her past. And Dean then understands that she ran away because she heard her. She tells them her story and Dean tells her that she is always safe with him....

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was woken up by a beeping sound. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel a small bubble of frustration building up when she struggled to open them. Her mind felt foggy, she didn't know where she was, or where the beeping from. She didn't know why everything smelled like disinfectant; her room should smell like vanilla from the candle that she had only just lit twenty minutes ago. Why did her head hurt so much? Why did breathing leave a sharp pain in her side? She tried to sit up, but her body felt stiff, it felt like there was something on her chest, holding her down. The weight on her chest was starting to make her panic, causing her breaths to quicken and the pain in her side increased. She could hear the beeping get louder and faster, what was happening? Where was she?

There was a muffled voice, but she couldn't quite make out who it was or what it was saying. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she still couldn't open her eyes. The voice didn't sound familiar, but it sounded like it might be saying something familiar. Was it her name? Was the muffled voice saying her name? She tried to slow her breathing down as each breath felt like she was being stabbed. She took a deep breath in, tried to ignore the weight on her chest and then slowly blew her breath out. She tried this several more times, and noticed that the beeping was slowing down as she did so. She also noticed that the weight was starting to lift, and the muffled voice was becoming clearer. It was definitely saying her name. Finally, she tried to open her eyes again, and this time it worked.

Everything was unfocused, but there was a figure wearing blue beside her. "Miss [Y/L/N]? Can you hear me?". The voice was coming from the blue person. She rolled her eyes around, trying to find something to focus on when she felt the hand on her shoulder squeeze. She looked to her side and saw the figure's arm, then traced it up to the figure's face. It was a nurse, a woman, maybe early fifties, wearing a kind expression. The woman spoke again "Can you hear me?". [Y/N] nodded. "You're in the hospital. Do you feel any pain or discomfort?" [Y/N] nodded again and opened her mouth to speak, but it was completely dry and she could only cough. "Try not to speak, just nod or shake your head. Do you understand?" [Y/N] nodded her head while the nurse handed her a cup of water. "Okay, are you in pain?". Again [Y/N] nodded, looking down at her side. "Alright, I will adjust your pain medication". The nurse took her hand from [Y/N]'s shoulder and began typing something into a tablet. "Do you know why you're here?".

[Y/N] didn't answer straight away. She remembered sitting in her bedroom, she had just lit a scented candle and picked out a book to read. Her boyfriend was away for the weekend and she was looking forward to some alone time. Things had been rocky with her relationship for awhile now. It had started off great, Mark was a seemingly nice guy who she had met in work and they'd hit it off. They had similar interests and hobbies, they shared several friends, and she had moved in to his apartment over a year ago. However, not long after moving in things started to change. At first it was small things, Mark became lazier with the house chores, expecting [Y/N] to either do them, or leave them undone. They would both come home tired from work but [Y/N] would be the one to cook dinner, clean the dishes, do the shopping, and clean the house.

The choice between doing all the chores or leaving them undone had eventually been taken away when Mark began shouting at [Y/N] for not doing them. He would drop food on the floor and wait for her to clean it up. He would scream at her when he opened the fridge to find it hadn't been stocked up. He only ever opened the dishwasher to check that [Y/N] had emptied it. The insults started a few months later. He would call her lazy for being tired at the end of a long day, he would mock her outfit choices, or tell her she needed to put on more makeup. He would shout at her and threaten to leave her out on the street any time she stood up for herself. He would call her stupid, comment on her weight, tell her that she was useless. The thing that made it harder for her to leave him, was that he would apologise. He would call her a million names, shout in her face, make her cry, leave her alone to do everything herself, and then he would say he was sorry, that he loved her, and that he would do better. He would hold her, stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, and say everything would be okay. Then the cycle would repeat.

"Miss, you you know why you're here?". The nurse's voice called [Y/N] from her train of thought. She was in hospital because of Mark. He had made the move from verbal and emotional abuse to physical abuse. He was supposed to be away for the weekend, she was supposed to have a few days to herself to relax, get comfortable in her bed, and catch up on her book. She didn't hear the front door open or close, she didn't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. She only heard him when he had swung the bedroom door open, his face full of rage and his eyes locking on to her as if she was his prey.

"Where the fuck is he?" Mark spat. [Y/N] looked at him, startled and confused, a deer caught in headlamps. "Do not make me any angrier than I already am [Y/N], I said, where the fuck is he?"

"I-I don't... where is who?"

"I know you have a man up here, I know you're a stupid little whore. Tell me where the fuck he is. Now".

[Y/N] could feel her heart racing, she knew she was in danger, she knew she wasn't safe. "It's just me, I'm alone, there is no one else".

"You're really going to lie to my face and tell me you haven't been cheating on me? In my own fucking house?"

"I haven't! I swear, I have never cheated on you". Tears were streaming down her face, and Mark took a step towards her. That's when the light from the window hit the knife in his hand, drawing her attention to it. "Wha-what are you doing?" Mark took another step closer to her, and.. beeping.

"Mark" [Y/N] croaked out. The nurse looked up from her tablet and gave [Y/N] a kind smile.

"Yes, Mark, your emergency contact. He has been kept updated on your condition every day for the last four weeks. Don't worry, as soon as I'm done here I will let him know that you're awake". Four weeks? Had she heard that right? The door to the room opened, and a quick wave of anxiety spread through [Y/N]'s body before she saw it was a woman, not Mark. The woman walked into the room and took the place of the nurse, who handed off the tablet before leaving.

"Good afternoon [Y/N], my name is Dr. Greene, I am so glad to see that you're awake". She offered a comforting smile. "I know things might be a bit muddy for you at the moment, but that's okay. You're here because you were attacked in a home invasion, your neighbour heard screaming and called 911 but your attacker had fled the scene before emergency services arrived. You suffered quite severe injuries to your head, and you sustained several broken ribs and four stab wounds with a punctured lung. It was rocky at the start but we are confident now that you will make a full recovery. We'd like to keep you here for another few days for observation, but the fact that you're awake and aware is the good sign we've been waiting for. The police would like to interview you as soon as they can, they want to know if you remember anything about your attacker." [Y/N] noticed the beeping was starting to get faster again. She couldn't see Mark again. "Don't worry, I will refrain from letting them know that you're awake until Mark gets here, he has visited you every day and has stayed by your bedside every moment outside of his work." The doctor offered another comforting smile but [Y/N]'s focus was on the door. "If you need anything, just press the button here on the side of your bed and someone will come in to you. I will come and check on you in the next half hour anyway".

As soon as the doctor left the room, [Y/N] was pulling the IV out of her arm and leaning up to get out of the bed. She managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but she immediately felt pain in her side and had to stop moving to catch her breath. More carefully, she planted her feet on the ground and stood up, leaning on the side of the bed for support. She spotted a bag on the couch in the room and slowly made her way towards it, and was relieved to find some of her clothes in it. She lifted off her hospital gown and inspected her side, she wasn't surprised to see a series of stitches where the apparent four stab wounds had been. She slipped on some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a loose hoodie, not wanting to wear anything too constricting over her cuts. She found some socks, and her shoes were on the floor beside the couch. Once she was fully dressed, she took another look in the bag, hoping to find her phone, but it wasn't there. Looking around the room one last time to see if there was anything of use she could take, she spotted a wallet on the table beside the bed. Mark's wallet. Grabbing it she opened it to see what was inside and was almost excited enough to smile when she saw all of the cash he'd left inside it. She took all of it, zipping it into a pocket in her bag, leaving all of his cards and the wallet itself behind. She couldn't risk taking and using the cards, giving him an easy way to track her down, the cash would have to be enough.

She managed to make it out of the hospital and to a bus stop down the road, not sure exactly where she was going, but knowing she wanted to get as far away as she could. She didn't even want to be in the same state anymore. She got on the first bus that was heading out of town, and stayed on it until its last stop. She then got a second bus, and then a third, and a fourth. She spent the entire day on buses. It was 9pm when she finally decided that she needed something to eat. She found a diner not far from where the last bus left her, and she sat awkwardly at a booth, trying to organise her thoughts. She definitely got a few stares while she ate; she hadn't seen herself in a mirror since waking up but she couldn't imagine that she looked good having been unconscious for a month, just escaped a hospital and then sat on buses all day. She hadn't even realised just how hungry she was until she had taken her first bite, and she quickly finished all of her food.

Luckily there was a motel beside the diner where she was able to get a room for the night, but it left her low on cash. Counting out what she had left, she figured she had enough for one last bus journey which should at least get her to the next town over; Smith Center, Kansas. She had picked it out on the map at the last bus station, noting that it was small; no one would look for her there. It would then leave her with enough cash for a cheap motel for a couple of nights to give her some time to look for help or figure out what to do next.

***

Late morning the next day she found herself walking around Smith Center. It was a very small town, the choices of motels were limited. She arrived at the first one just to be told there were no rooms available. Her heart dropped when the next two, the only other two, told her the same thing. There were no other buses for the rest of the day, and she needed to find somewhere and fast. With no phone, she could only go by the map on the wall of the last motel. It looked like the nearest motel was a ten hour walk east, meaning it would be very late by the time she got there, and if they didn't have a room, she'd be stuck. She bought some cheap snacks and a bottle of water from the vending machine at the last motel before she set off on her journey.

***

Four and a half hours in she was walking along the edge of a road, only a couple of cars had passed her the entire walk so far. She had to keep stopping to catch her breath, and she had already finished her water. She cursed herself for not buying more than one bottle. It was also cold out, and her hoodie was doing little to shelter her from the breeze. Her side was killing her and her head was aching, her vision was becoming more and more unfocused the farther she pushed herself. She was pulled back to awareness by the loud beeping of a horn; a truck had slowed down beside her and a man was shouting something out of the window. "Are you alone out here?" He called. She ignored him, not even looking at him. "Hey, I asked you a question, are you alone? Do you need company?" The man was creeping her out and still without looking at him she turned sharply into the forest along the side of the road and just ran. She ran through the pain, she ran through the fogginess of her brain, she ran as fast as she could through the trees.

She needed to find her way out of the forest. She was cold, tired, it was dark, and the ache in her head and pain in her side had spread throughout her body. She knew that she was only moments away from collapsing. Then she found a door, surrounded by concrete and sunken into the side of a mound of earth, with a solid concrete building sitting on top of it. She grabbed onto the metal railing and made her way down a few steps to the door. She tried to bang on it but her strength was gone, she could only manage light taps; no one would be able to hear them. Too exhausted to walk back up the few steps onto the road, she leaned against the door. Any adrenaline she was running on had finally run out, and she slid down against the door, falling onto the ground and losing consciousness.

***

[Y/N] wasn't woken up by sunlight the next morning, or the rumbling of a car engine as it stopped outside the door. She wasn't woken up by the low voices, the hand on her shoulder, or the tap on her cheek. "Who do you think she is?"

"I don't know Dean, I got here at the same time as you".

"Hey". There was another tap on her cheek, and this time she stirred. "Hey, wake up". The sound of a man's voice startled her and her eyes shot open. The light from the sun hit her eyes before she could focus on the face in front of her and she shut them again while letting out a groan. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"Maybe let her wake up a little bit Dean, she doesn't look well".

"Should we take her to the hospital?" The word 'hospital' triggered an immediate response in [Y/N]'s mind. Hospitals within the radius that she could have travelled to within the period of time that she'd escaped would be at the top of his list of places to check for her.

"No, no hospital, please". Her voice was only a whisper, she was completely dehydrated.

"Okay, okay, come on, let's get you inside then". The man, Dean, pulled her into his arms and stood up. He looked down at her face to see that she had lost consciousness again. "Sam can you get the door?" They made their way down into the bunker, and Dean brought [Y/N] straight into one of the bedrooms, laying her down gently and brushing her hair out of her face.

"What do you think she has against hospitals?" Sam walked into the room with one of the bunker's first aid kids.

"Not sure, but it looks like she came from one. Look, she has stitches on her head, under her hair". Dean pushed back [Y/N]'s hair to show Sam. Sam leaned over to take a closer look, and then reached for her arm and pushed her sleeve up.

"Bruise from an IV too. I dunno Dean, maybe we should take her to the hospital anyway. Look at her, she's sick".

"How many times have we had to avoid hospitals for one reason or another? What if she's running from someone? No, we can watch over her until she wakes up again and then we can figure out who she is and why she was at our front door".

Sam scoffed at him. "Why do you care? She's a stranger, we don't even know her name". Dean just waved him off.

"Just bring in a glass of water, I'll try to wake her up again". Sam left the room and Dean sat on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on [Y/N]'s shoulder and gently rocked it. "Hey, wake up". She didn't respond, so he tried again. "Sweetheart, can you open your eyes for me?"

She could hear a man's voice, and she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. She bolted up and pushed the hand off her shoulder, how had he found her? She was in the middle of nowhere, she'd left the hospital, she didn't have anything trackable, how had he found her so quickly?

"No, please, get off me". Her eyes were already full of tears and she couldn't make out the face in front of her, but she assumed it was Mark, that he had managed to find her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run". She sobbed. Dean didn't know what to do, he just held his hands back and slowly stood up from the bed to give her space.

"Hey, hey, I don't know who you're apologising to but you didn't run from me, I found you outside my door". Why did Mark sound different to usual? His voice wasn't that deep.

"What's going on?" Sam walked back into the room with a glass of water and looked from Dean to [Y/N].

"Hey, my name is Dean, you're safe here okay? I'm not gonna hurt you". [Y/N] sniffed and blinked the tears from her eyes, trying to focus on Dean's face. Not Mark, Dean. Once she could see his face she moved her eyes to Sam.

"I'm Sam, you were kinda unconscious at our front door... here, take this". He cautiously handed her the glass and nodded approvingly when she took it from him. Neither of them missed the way her hands trembled as she brought the glass up to her lips. "Can you tell us your name?" She shook her head and Sam looked to Dean with a confused expression. "Do you know where you are?" She looked around the room and shook her head again, her lip starting to quiver again. "That's okay, you're in Lebanon, Kansas. Like I said, I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean". Dean smiled reassuringly at her. "We noticed some stitches on your head and an IV mark on your arm, were you in hospital?" [Y/N] nodded. "Okay, and you don't wanna go back?" She quickly nodded and cleared her throat.

"I-I can't".

"Why can't you Sweetheart? You're hurt". Dean asked.

"I just can't, not safe". She looked down at her glass of water.

"Okay, that's alright, but can you let us look at you properly? We're actually both pretty good with taking care of injuries. Those stitches will need to be monitored for one". Dean pointed at her head.

"Okay". She whispered.

"It will be a lot easier if you tell us your name, even just your first name, I promise we won't try to contact anyone". Sam smiled comfortingly at her when she looked up at him.

"[Y/N]".

"Alright [Y/N], welcome to the bunker, just so happens to be one of the safest places on earth". Dean had a look of pride on his face as he made that statement, but [Y/N] wasn't so sure she got what he meant - bunker? Were these brothers some sort of paranoid conspiracy theorists? They weren't wearing tin hats or anything and they looked genuine, but living in a bunker seemed pretty odd. Sam seemed to understand the expression on her face because he was quick to change the subject.

"Do you wanna take a shower or something and get some rest? Or a bath maybe if you're feeling too tired to stand?" A bath did sound pretty good, she was starting to think she probably didn't smell great after being in a hospital for a month, riding on a bunch of buses, walking for nearly five hours and then running until she collapsed.

"I-I'd like a bath".

"Come on, I'll show you where to go and I'll get you some clean clothes". Sam held his hand out to her. She knew she should be weary of these unusually tall and handsome strangers, but she couldn't help but feel trusting of them. She took his hand and he pulled her up while Dean helped to steady her on her feet. Sam let her hold onto his arm for support as he walked her to the bathroom. He gave her soap, shampoo, conditioner, and a warm fluffy towel and told her to take as long as she wanted, and that he would leave some clothes outside the door for her.

The bath definitely helped. At first it stung where her stitches were, and also the little scratches she must have picked up running through the forest. Once she properly got soaked in the hot water however, the stinging faded and she could feel her muscles relax. She was surprised to see that Sam had given her pretty high end shampoo and conditioner for her hair, which took awhile to wash since there were definitely a lot of knots and even a small twig in it. She looked down at her body while she was washing it and was shocked at the number of bruises she had. Luckily the stab wounds looked like they were healing pretty well, though they would definitely leave some scars.

Once she felt clean, she carefully got up from the tub and wrapped the towel around herself before opening the door to see what clothes had been left; a t-shirt, a warm looking flannel, and pyjama pants. They were all far too big on her, but they were definitely comfortable. She made her way back to the bedroom she had come from, and found Dean sitting at the desk in the room flicking through an old book. He looked up at her when she walked through the door and smiled. "Feeling better?" He asked her.

"Yeah, it definitely helped". She made her way over to the bed and sat on the side of it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course".

"Why do you live here? In a bunker?" Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously, not really sure how to explain it.

"It's kind of a long story". He chuckled. "Why don't I tell you tomorrow after you've had some rest?" He closed the book he was flicking through and stood up from the desk, making his way to the bedroom door. "I'm just three doors down on the right, if you need anything at all during the night just knock. I've left another glass of water for you on the bedside table there, did you want something to eat before you go to bed?" [Y/N] shook her head, she wasn't sure her stomach was up for any food just yet. "That's okay, but will you try and eat some breakfast tomorrow? I make some pretty good pancakes". He smiled at her and she smiled back. Her smile was beautiful, and it pulled his attention away from the bags under her eyes and the scratches and bruises that he'd noticed earlier. He blinked a few times when he realised he may have been staring just a bit too long and he excused himself from the room, closing the door behind him.

***

[Y/N] woke up to the sound of screaming. She shot up in her bed and looked around frantically, momentarily forgetting where she was and not knowing where the scream came from. The door burst open and Dean was there, holding up a gun, which startled [Y/N] even more as she tried to push herself back into the headboard to try and distance herself from him. Once he saw that there was no one else in the room, he put the gun away and held up his hands to [Y/N] to show he wasn't armed anymore. "Hey, you're okay, I heard you scream so I'm just here to make sure nothing happened". [Y/N]'s breathing was uneven and she could feel that her forehead was covered in sweat and her cheeks were covered in tears. "Can you just breathe for me?" [Y/N] didn't respond, she just kept staring at him and struggled to deepen her breaths. "I'm going to come over to you now, is that okay?" Dean kept his hands up as he took a step towards her; she didn't object.

He sat down beside her and put his hands on her shoulders, making sure to move slowly and give her time to tell him to back off if she needed to. When she didn't say anything, he pulled her closer to him. "I want you to try and match my breathing okay? Just focus on me". His hands were wrapped around her back and she instinctively wrapped hers around his. Dean's breaths were even, and deep, and slow. After several minutes [Y/N] had calmed down, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head again Dean's chest. His hand went to her head, careful to avoid the stitches, and he held her. "Did you have a nightmare?" She shrugged her shoulders, not really remembering what caused her to wake up. "Okay, do you wanna lie back and try get some more sleep?"

She looked up, the tears on her face had dried and she just felt tired now. "Would you stay with me?" Her voice was quite and Dean looked down at her.

"Do you want me to lay with you?" She nodded shyly. "Okay, we can do that if it will help you sleep." Dean lay down beside her, staying on top of the covers while she got back under them. He slid his arm around her shoulder and she lay her head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on the top of her head. His fingers lightly traced circles on her arm, and her breathing became slower, and deeper. She didn't know why she felt so safe in Dean's arms, but she wasn't going to resist. She needed to rest, and he helped her do that.

***

When [Y/N] woke up she didn't feel right. She opened her eyes and blinked, looking around the room. She had a vague memory of the man, Dean, staying with her last night, but now she was the only one in the bed. She had an ache behind her right eye, and there was something moving in her peripheral. She looked over to the door to see what was moving, but the door was closed and no one was there. The movement was still in her peripheral, so she turned her head farther to the right to catch it, but it stayed in her peripheral. She groaned, knowing exactly what this meant. She'd had migraines as a teenager, but hadn't had one in years. They always started the same for her; a pain behind her eye, and an aura which would grow from her peripheral over the next couple of hours to the point where she wouldn't be able to see anything out of the affected eye. She knew the pain would also grow, and it would get so bad that she would throw up.

She needed to get up and get to a toilet fast. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and pushed up quickly, which was a mistake, because she was instantly dizzy and the pain in her side reminded her of the wounds, and then everything that happened came rushing to the front of her mind and it was all too much. She fell down onto her hands and knees. The ache behind her eye was turning into a pounding sensation, and the aura in her peripheral was creeping towards the centre of her vision. There was a knock on the door, and she had to cover her ears it sounded so loud. It slowly opened and Sam looked through, he had called her name but she hadn't answered. When he spotted her on the floor he rushed over to her and lifted her up onto her knees so she was kneeling. He scanned her face and his concerned expression intensified. "[Y/N] can you hear me? What's wrong? Where are you in pain?" She slowly removed her hands from her ears and placed them onto Sam's shoulders for balance.

"Mi-migraine". She managed to stutter. "Going t-to throw up, need t-toilet now". Without another word Sam hoisted her up and into his arms, carried her straight out of the door and down to the bathroom. He set her down quickly in front of the toilet and pulled back her hair as she threw up. It was basically just water since she hadn't eaten, but it was unpleasant anyway. Sam rubbed his hand in circles on her back and stayed there with her until she leaned back. "Sorry". She whispered.

"It's okay". He continued to rub her back. He thought about bringing up the hospital again but quickly decided that triggering a panic attack in the state she was currently in would not be the best. "There's a spare toothbrush here, you can brush your teeth. I'll get you a clean glass for some water too. You okay here by yourself for a couple of minutes?" She nodded and he left. She stood up and leaned over the sink. Looking up she saw herself in the mirror for the first time since the attack. She looked terrible. While the bath the previous day had cleaned her skin and hair, she was covered in scratches and bruises. Her eyes looked sunken in and her eyes were red, she hadn't even realised that she'd been crying since Sam found her on the floor. He came back into the bathroom several minutes later with some water and some clean clothes. "Thought you might want to change out of what you slept in last night. Sorry we don't have anything that would fit you, it's just me and Dean that live here. I do have some medicine for that migraine and nausea though". She took the water and pills from him and smiled as he set the clothes down on the counter. "If you take a right from the bathroom and continue down to the end of the corridor, the last right will lead to the kitchen, meet me in there when you're ready?"

***

[Y/N] sat at the kitchen table in her clean clothes and sipping her glass of water. The migraine's aura had disappeared and the nausea had passed, there was just a dull throb behind her eye left. She blinked, looking between Sam and Dean who sat opposite her. "Are you serious?" She asked. They had just explained to her what the bunker was and what they did for a living.

"I know it's a lot, but it's all true". Sam responded.

"You hunt monsters?"

"And save people". Dean added.

"You're right that is a lot".

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, or what you're running from, but we have lots of space here. You can stay while you recover, just try not to touch something if you don't know what it is, we're still cataloging everything. Don't want to accidentally send you to another world or something". Sam chuckled but she could hear a serious tone beneath it. "You should really have something to eat, how's your stomach?" He asked.

"Maybe something small?"

"How about some cereal? I can get you a bowl now and then you can go back to bed and rest. Consider that room yours for now. While you're resting I can go get you whatever you need, just let me know your clothing sizes and preferences okay?"

"I don't have a lot of cash left". [Y/N] looked back down to her glass of water. She flinched slightly when Dean reached out to cover her hand with his, but she didn't pull away; he was incredibly gentle for someone who looked so big and tall.

"We've got you. We have an unlimited credit card thanks to a good friend of ours". He smiled at her.

***

[Y/N] ate and thanked both of the boys for the hospitality they'd shown her before heading back to the bedroom. Her headache had completely subsided and she felt better having eaten something. Her side was the only thing bothering her now, but it was bearable. She had a dreamless sleep, and when she woke up the clock on the wall showed that she had slept through the entire night and most of the next morning too; it was nearly 12pm. She sat up and noticed that there were bags on the desk in the corner. She made her way over to have a look inside, and found clothes in her size. She'd asked for underwear, pyjamas, leggings, jeans, socks, and some t-shirts and hoodies, and surprisingly whichever of the boys had bought them had managed to find stuff that suited her style. After a quick shower and change of clothes, she went back to the kitchen and found Dean there.

"Hey Sweetheart, you sleep okay last night?"

"Yeah, thanks for the clothes, they fit".

"I'm glad to hear. You want some pancakes?" He asked while already shovelling some onto a plate for her. She started to eat when he sat down opposite her.

"So listen, Sam's gone off on a hunt today, should only take a day or two. I was wondering if you'd wanna help with some research? We're thinking it's a banshee but we're not too familiar with them".

"Yeah of course, you've done so much for me, if there is anything I can do to help you guys out just point me in the right direction!"

***

[Y/N] had been helping the boys out with their cases for a few months now. Her stab wounds had healed, and all of the scratches and bruises were gone. She still couldn't run without finding it difficult to breathe, and her head still hurt from time to time, but overall she was much improved. Dean often commented on her improved appearance, constantly complimented her and stole glances when he thought she wasn't looking. She also stole a lot of glances at him, and Sam found it entertaining watching both of them. Dean wasn't usually one to shy around women, but [Y/N] had some sort of special effect on him. Sam often brought it up to Dean, but every time he told him to shut up.

"Why don't you just ask her out? You act like a shy schoolboy around her. You've seen her every day for months and she doesn't seem to be annoyed by you yet, just give it a shot"

"We still don't really know a lot about her Sam. Sure she's been here for months and she's awesome, and don't get me wrong, she's hot, but she hasn't told us anything about her life before she showed up here. I feel like she knows everything about us and we don't know shit about her. She hasn't left the bunker since she got here, she's obviously terrified of something out there but won't say anything".

"Do you think we should talk to her about that? Like properly sit down and try get it out? She's improved a lot but it's still not healthy for her to stay in here all day for months".

Dean didn't answer right away. He'd been wanting to get the truth out of her for weeks now, but every time he tried to get some information about her previous life out of her, she'd either start crying or just lock herself in her bedroom and not come out until the next day. "I'll try to get her to come out on a supply run with me, see if she can handle leaving the bunker for an hour". Sam nodded in agreement with Dean's suggestion.

Dean made his way down to [Y/N]'s room and knocked on the open door, she was sitting on her bed reading through one of the bunker's many lore books. "Hey". He smiled at her.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked.

"We're kinda low on food at the moment, I was wondering if you'd like to come out on a supply run with me?"

"Oh, today?"

"Yeah, now actually".

"I-uh-can Sam not go with you?"

"I think it would be good for you to get outside for a little bit".

"I don't want to". Dean sighed and walked over to sit on the edge of her bed.

"[Y/N], can you please just shed a little bit of light on the situation? You've been here for months, we've fed you, clothed you, helped you heal, and you haven't told us anything about your life".

"You think I'm just taking and not giving anything? I've tried to help as much as I can with researching..."

"No, no I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying, we've become pretty close, don't you think? I'd say you're a good friend at this point". He smiled and placed his hand on her leg. "I just want to know more about you is all".

"I don't want to go outside". Dean could see that she was starting to breathe quite quickly.

"Hey, that's okay, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do". She had put the book down and was now picking at her fingers. He reached over to grab her hands to stop her from doing that when she yelped and pulled herself away from him, falling off the bed and landing on the floor with a soft thud. "Shit, sorry [Y/N], are you okay?" Dean knelt down and reached a hand out to put on her shoulder but she jerked away from him.

"Please leave me alone, don't touch me". He quickly pulled his hand back and stood up.

"Okay, okay I'm not gonna touch you. You're safe here, remember?" She slowly nodded as she tried to steady her shaky breathing. "Can you stand up?" She nodded again and pushed off her hands so she was kneeling. Dean held out his hand for her, half expecting her to swat it away but she did take it. He lifted her up and before he could say anything else, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face in his flannel. One of his hands came up to hold the back of her head while the other snaked around her waist. They stood there together in silence for several minutes before [Y/N] pulled away from him. "Is there anything you need while I'm out?" He asked her. She shook her head.

"No, I'm okay". He sighed but nodded. "If you need anything while I'm out Sam is in the library".

***

[Y/N] struggled to get to sleep that night. She knew she couldn't stay inside the bunker forever and would have to brave the outside world at some point, but she was just too scared of running into Mark. She knew that Lebanon, Kansas, would be an extremely unlikely place to run into him or anyone else she knew, but every time she pictured herself out shopping, he would appear there too. Both Sam and Dean had been bringing up the topic of getting out of the bunker more frequently recently, and she was starting to think that they didn't want her around anymore. It was true, she hadn't really told them anything about her life before the bunker, while she knew pretty much everything that they'd gone through since Mary died when Sam was a baby. The images of being outside the bunker and running into Mark turned into nightmares as she drifted off.

She was back in her old bedroom, the footsteps were getting closer, she knew what was coming. She was begging him before he even opened the door not to hurt her. "Please, I'm sorry, I haven't done anything I swear, there's no one here". She locked the door to her bedroom and he began to bang on it from the other side. "Please go away!" She sobbed as he yelled her name, demanding to be let in.

"[Y/N]!" Mark shouted, pounding on the door. "[Y/N]!!"

"[Y/N] wake up!!" [Y/N]'s eyes opened and she gasped, sitting straight up in bed and frantically looking around for Mark. "[Y/N] you're okay, it was a nightmare. It's just us". She looked from Dean who was sitting on her bed with his hands on her shoulders, to Sam who was standing beside her with a worried look etched onto his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry". She wept. "Please don't hurt me, please don't touch me, I didn't do anything, please". Sam and Dean exchanged a look before Sam knelt down beside the bed.

"[Y/N], hey, it's Sam, I'd never hurt you". She continued to cry. "You're safe, no one here is gonna hurt you". She sniffed and finally looked at him, and then at Dean.

"Hey". Dean smiled at her. She reached out to both of them with shaky hands, and they met her half way, gently grabbing a hand each. "It was just a nightmare". He reassured her and she nodded. He reached over with his free hand and wiped the tears from her face. "Do you want me to stay with you the rest of the night or do you want to be alone?"

"Could you stay?'

"Of course". Sam let go of [Y/N]'s hand and leaned in to kiss her forehead, relieved when she smiled. He left the two of them alone. "Alright, scooch over". [Y/N] moved to the side of the bed and lifted the covers. "You want me to get in?" Dean lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah". Her voice was very quiet. He pulled off the hoodie he was wearing and slid in beside her. She lay her head on his chest and he slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulder and started to trace circles on her arm like he had the first night. He stayed awake long after she had fallen asleep. He needed to get the truth out of her so he could help her. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the apologising while sobbing and begging to be left alone were not going to get better unless she faced the truth. He had a growing suspicion about what had happened to her before she arrived at the bunker, but he had no idea how to confront her about it without setting off a panic attack. He hadn't voiced his suspicions with Sam yet, but he made a mental note to do that first thing in the morning.

***

[Y/N] woke up to an empty bed, her memories of the night before a blur. Her nightmares had been getting worse recently, but waking up screaming like last night was a rare occurance. She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find the boys there and apologise for waking them up last night. She stopped just outside the kitchen door when she heard Dean say her name.

"I don't know Sam, I'm just.. disappointed".

"You think she's getting worse?"

"I think she's keeping secrets that are hurting her. It's keeping you and me awake at night too. It's just disappointing that she won't tell us anything. Literally everything we know about her is from when we found her onwards. Fuck, it's frustrating".

"You feel hurt that she won't let you in?"

"I.. I guess I feel-" [Y/N] didn't stick around to find out how Dean felt about her. She ran back to her room and quickly got changed out of her pyjamas into a pair of leggings that the boys had bought her, and Dean's hoodies that he'd shed before getting into her bed the previous night. She made her way up to the front door of the bunker without the boys noticing, took a deep breath, and walked outside.

***

There was snow on the ground, and the sun hadn't risen yet. She didn't know how long she had been walking for, and she had no idea where she was; somewhere in the forest near the bunker. A phone rang, and she could feel a vibration against her stomach. She reached in and pulled a phone out of the hoodie's pocket. It was one of Dean's spare phones, and the name on the screen was Sam. Even if she wanted to answer it she wouldn't have been able to, her fingers were numb and she was struggling just to hold the phone. As soon as it stopped ringing, it rang again, this time Dean's name appeared on the screen. Staring at his name and thinking about how angry he sounded that she wouldn't tell him anything, she could only focus on the disappointment in her that he felt. Both Sam and Dean had done so much for her, a stranger, yet she wouldn't open up to them. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the branch on the ground right in front of her. She tripped, landing the loose rocks on the ground. She couldn't get up. She didn't have the energy.

***

"How long do you think she's been gone?!" Dean was pacing up and down the bunker's bedroom corridor having not been able to find [Y/N] in her room or anywhere else. Sam had his phone pressed to his ear.

"Are you sure she has your phone?"

"I left it in my hoodie, and I left my hoodie in her room last night, and that hoodie is no longer in her room. So yes Sam, I'm pretty damn sure she has it".

"Well we've both called it and she hasn't answered".

"Can you track it?"

"I mean, yeah, do you think that's a good idea? Just given the fact that she was obviously terrified by being tracked before..."

"You know what clothes she has Sam, they don't exactly scream 'winter wear'. Track the phone. Now".

***

Sam and Dean set off into the forest after they had tracked Dean's phone. It looked like [Y/N] hadn't actually gone very far, they would have been able to walk to her location within twenty minutes, but Dean insisted on running. "She should be somewhere around here Dean". Sam slowed down as he caught his breath. "I'll ring the phone, see if we can hear it". Dean came to a stop and listened while Sam called. He heard a faint ringing sound to his left and ran in that direction.

"Shit. Sammy get over here!" He knelt down beside [Y/N] and grabbed her hand, it felt like ice. "[Y/N]?" She didn't answer, her eyes were closed and her body was still. Dean shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her.

"Is she okay?" Sam asked from behind him.

"She's unconscious. We need to get her back inside and warmed up NOW". Dean slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. He and Sam walked quickly back to the bunker.

"You get her to bed, hold her, I'll get a hot water bottle". Sam moved towards the kitchen while Dean brought [Y/N] to his room. He got her under the blankets before taking his flannel and t-shirt off; he knew he was going to get hot under the covers, especially with a hot water bottle. He pulled her so she was laying completely on top of him, and he tucked the blanket around her as best he could. Sam came back in with a hot water bottle and felt her forehead with the back of his hand. "She's still cold, but she's starting to shiver again, that's a good sign". Dean was trying to keep his breathing steady but it was difficult when he was fighting back tears.

"Is this my fault?" He whispered to Sam.

"What? Why would this be your fault?"

"Do you think she heard me? When I said I was disappointed earlier, do you think she heard me?"

"Let's ask her when she wakes up, there's no point dwelling on that now. Just focus on getting her warmed up Dean". Sam took a seat at the desk in the corner of Dean's room, he didn't want to leave until he knew she was okay. He was also a bit worried about Dean, he was unpredictable whenever he felt consumed by guilt. Dean rubbed his hand up and down [Y/N]'s arm to try and create some friction. Sam took [Y/N]'s temperature every ten minutes for the next couple of hours, reassuring Dean that she was getting warmer.

Sam had refilled the hot water bottle, and when he was putting it under the covers [Y/N] stirred in Dean's arms. "[Y/N]? You awake?" Sam asked and reached over to tuck some loose hair behind her ear.

"Sam?" She blinked her eyes open.

"Hey, are you cold?" She shook her head. She actually felt quite warm, and she only just realised that she was lying on something very warm. She looked up and saw Dean looking down at her, concern very apparent on his face.

"Hey". She whispered.

"Hey". He whispered back. She was very aware that Sam and Dean had just saved her, again. She felt a bit silly for running away now that she was thinking more clearly.

"I want to tell you what happened". She looked over at Sam. "I want to tell both of you".

***

When she had finished telling them about Mark, she was scared to look at either of them, worried that she would see pity, or disgust. She was still lying on Dean, and his hold on her only tightened as she told her story. "Thank you for telling us [Y/N]. We had a suspicion that it was something like that, but wow, you've been through a lot". It was Sam that had spoken first. She looked up at Dean to see that his jaw was clenched; he looked angry.

"Are... are you still disappointed?" She asked him. He shook his head and loosened his hold on her, suddenly aware that he was squeezing her.

"No Sweetheart, I'm just angry at what that dick did to you. If I ever see him... he's a monster [Y/N]. You know what we do to monsters". Sam nodded in agreement, though he was better at hiding his anger than Dean. "This is your home now. I'm your family, Sam is your family. We'll keep you safe. You're safe here, but we'll keep you safe no matter where we are. We'll get your confidence back, it will be easier to help you now that we know the truth".

"Can I stay with you tonight?" She asked.

"You can stay with me every night if you want to". He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead and her eyes fluttered closed. She breathed in the Dean's flannel, taking in his comforting scent. She was safe here, with Sam watching out for her and Dean holding her in his arms. Tomorrow would be better.

The end

587 notes · View notes