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timetotrivechallenge2 · 2 years

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Maya Comerota Signs Up With Tony Robbins As Well As Dean Graziosi For The Very Own Your Future Difficulty

I'll ahead your concern to Dean's workplace, so they can possibly offer translations in the future. No, you can not transform your routines in just eventually, but you will certainly see the clear difference after the initial week. Once you understand the success practices, you will be UNSTOPPABLE. Due to the fact that you'll be using the special VIP Zoom link, you can see them as well as they can see you! Unlike the live occasion with thousands of people, they can actually see your facial expression better. My life changed after I found this podcast, 100% the top on the system. So pretend as if you've actually spent real cash in yourself. Stay with it, as well as when you're done, you can completely take pleasure in the experience while your pocketbook remains intact. They supply a systematic way for producing your knowledge organization of the future, detailed, from A to Z. We generated several of our favored individuals in this space, all serious on providing value. What I think is we can aid get rid of restricting beliefs like, "That is except me. The globe has shifted totally." As a result of COVID, this industry is significantly expanding like pure fire. It's never ever a trouble that you lack seeing where your take advantage of is. The take advantage of today is in modern technology. Yet you can just make use of that if you place on your own because industry. Tony's goal is to serve people and also use innovation to aid people own their future. 3) You are not right here to handle your circumstances, you are here to develop your life. If you currently have a service, you're utilizing the internet to spread the word concerning it, and also you're not thinking about the vast details service, after that this may not be for you. Let me give you a metaphor in my very own life and then reveal you exactly how it relates to you. So I have 80 plus business, everything from AI to resort as well as Fiji to multiple sporting activities teams around pieces of. So I have a lot of firms, a lot of varied locations, but my mission is what I'm doing today. It's why I hang out with JLD and also guys like him. New Globe Brand-new You Challenge Day # 1 With Tony Robbins If you're being kept back in life due to mental blocks, Tony can assist you overcome that. If you're in a good mindset to begin, it's a whole lot less. This event happens from November 11th to 15th and is open to the public. There are goals, desires, as well as goals I want to take control of as well as the obstacle to me is the best way to do it. Do not treat this like a totally free gift you get rid of the following day. Treat it like a benefit and not a right. Tony, Dean, as well as millions of other individuals will be just great if you don't turn up, the show needs to take place. Tony Robbins is a business owner, # 1 New york city Times bestselling writer, benefactor and also the nation's # 1 life & company strategist. For years, countless individuals have actually taken pleasure in the heat, wit and transformational power of Tony's company and also personal advancement occasions. Step one is to establish your innovation strategy. Gain the edge in every major location of your life. By the end of the obstacle, you'll be rupturing with internal power. Tip two is to identify the everyday steps to get results. After that there are great vital note audio speakers to fill up time i guess, yet they were not anticipated and not adding content worth. They include wonderful inspirational worth though you could read their books and also get more. Furthermore, I additionally got 1-1 training and also invest over $5000 on that. It is rather costly (someplace around $300/30 minutes session), however if it helps me to reach my objectives it maybe worth it. Unfortunately, it had not been and agreement with the coach was returned to the Tony Robbins organization. I was never ever gotten in touch with to obtain a brand-new instructor and when reach out to them and also explained the scenario I was promised a various trainer. Any such extra Early Competitors Prizes and also Daily Prizes will be awarded making use of the exact same standards as offered in Paragraph 10, here. Call Consumer Support for concerns on your products, coaching, or events ... My diet regimen isn't such as one of a nomadic gatherer!!! ( is it?) Lately, I've been consuming a great deal of yearn nuts. A bag of those coincides calorie consumption as 3 hot fudge sundaes! As well as I was also consuming a great deal of dried fruits. The Utmost Development Experience That implies the market initially needs to establish an equitable means to share responsibility among the numerous gamers associated with each job. Anderson talked to this while making use of RSS as a prime example. In https://twitter.com/TonyRobbins?ref_src=twsrc^google|twcamp^serp|twgr^author , RSS service providers have in the previous years seen their market share surge from nothing to regarding fifty percent of every foot that is drilled today. Thorup is the head of electronic advancement with Maersk Exploration (and soon to be Noble Corp. upon the impending finalization of a $3.4 billion merging introduced in November 2021). We will certainly give totally free MetroCards during the summertime and after-school program-- if trainees do not already have one from their college-- so trainees can take a trip to program. When feasible, we will certainly attach students to others at their site so they can travel with each other. Yes, pupils that sign up in Development New york city commit to taking part in our programs for 10 years-- from middle school via university graduation. This might have been the very best part concerning Tony's personal growth seminar-- it forced me to develop my very own. In the days that lead up to the occasion, I really felt nervous. The second need is filling in every one of the inquiries on your application (" Application") as well as posting your video clip (this is "sending"). There is additionally a third demand of the Obstacle, which is finishing the Peer-to-Peer testimonial. Only submissions with ALL three needs finished will certainly be eligible for the Obstacle. When she fell short to persuade publishers of its worth, Abidi released a Kickstarter fund, increasing greater than $11,500 as well as publishing it herself, after looking for a printing workshop in the backstreets of Karachi's crowded markets. While researching at college in the UK, Maliha Abidi would snap through the pages of publications in her neighborhood Waterstones store, only to become aware there were no personalities who resembled her. Visit or register for Eventbrite to save occasions you're interested in. Michelle recognizes the agonizing, commonly lonesome, struggle of being caught in a managing or violent partnership due to the fact that she endured one herself for years. After breaking devoid of the cycle of physical and also emotional torment in 2015, she laid out to assist various other survivors find liberty as well as safety and security. The Verification process validates the details on your Application, enrollment and video clip submission. If info can not be confirmed, your submission might be invalidated from the Difficulty. The option committee consists of leaders as well as academics from scientific research and math, consisting of previous Innovation Reward victors. All of their biographies get on the Choice Committee page.

#deangraziosi

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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Season 16 (Part 1)

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael’s put in motion and have a chance at seeing Dean alive again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, angst, fluff

A/N: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV. This was also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story bingo!

________

Reader’s POV

You just about had a heart attack when the door opened. It’d been such a long time since it’d been opened. Years and years and years. You’d lost track of the days quickly but it was long enough for you to accept that it’d been a very long time. Long enough to accept that when Michael took over Dean and threw you down in the windowless little room, Dean didn’t win that fight.

The only thing keeping you going aside from the spell Michael had put up to keep you permanently trapped, body stuck in time, was the desire to save Dean. Or what was left of him. You’d been alone for years, body having taken a beating by Michael when he first captured you. You were still covered in bruises, broken ribs that wouldn’t heal, pain in every breath. You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Solitude, cut off from the world, that was your main form of torture. Dean though...who knew what hell he was going through trapped with a psychopath like that for all these years.

You readied yourself, a dark figure walking inside the room. The room was pitch black to a certain point before you were trapped under a bright light you’d yet to figure out how to turn off. The figure stopped as their feet hit the brightness, a pair of brown boots and slim dark jeans all you could make out. They mumbled something and you felt the air shift slightly. You dared to reach at hand out to where the invisible wall keeping you trapped had been.

Your hand waved right on through it and you suddenly felt cool, clean air hit you. The person jolted when you sprang up, running away as you bolted for the door. You followed them up a flight of stairs and straight out into the foyer of a very nice house. You could see it was a man now and tackled him, straddling his hips and grabbing your knife from your waistband of your loose shorts, holding it to his throat. He breathed hard as you stared at him, cocking your head.

He was the spitting image of Dean. Mostly. His eyes weren’t green and there was something about his nose that reminded you of your own. The biggest tell of all though was the genuine fear in his face, the confusion.

“What’s your name,” you said. You held up the knife for a moment and tucked it away when you saw he was only focused on it. The young man, no more than twenty years old, took a deep breath. You yelped when he threw his legs up and wrapped them around your waist, yanking you off of him. He scrambled to his feet but you were on his tail, grabbing at his jacket. He spun around and popped you in the face, sending you to the floor.

You whined and cupped your cheek, the young man frozen in the doorway with a horrified look on his face.

“Who punches their own mom!” you shouted. He ran out the door and you went after, growling at your bare feet as he took off down the gravel driveway. “I’m gonna find you!”

You stomped your foot on the cool concrete front path, glancing to your right and spotting a sports car. You jogged back inside and found a pair of women’s sneakers, a little too big but you tied them tight and found some keys on a front table.

About two minutes later you were pulling up beside the guy on the road and hopped out of the car, the man running into the nearby treeline. You pulled out your knife and threw it, catching his jacket and pinning the sleeve to the tree trunk. He stumbled and fell down as you walked over, staring up with wide eyes. You sighed and ran a hand over your face.

“Can you at least tell me your first name?” you asked. He shook his head and you crossed your arms. “I bet your name is Lyle, isn’t it.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, voice a bit higher than Dean’s but it made you smile, something warm and familiar to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Lyle is my top name for a boy if I ever had one,” you said. “So. Lyle Winchester.”

“That’s not my name,” he said. He stood up and pulled out the knife, carefully holding it out to you.

“You look just like Dean and me. You’re my son...somehow,” you said.

“Fine. My name is Lyle and that’s all I can say about myself,” he said. “I’m serious.”

You recognized the tone, that edge to it, the roughness but laced with an undercurrent of worry. Part of you wanted him to tell you everything about him but you knew he couldn’t, instead letting yourself give him a simple nod.

“I’ll make you a deal Lyle. I won’t ask questions about you that you can’t answer if you tell me how and why you got me out of there and answer anything else I want to know about this little situation.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed.

“Or else someday when you’re a teenager I won’t let you do anything. Lyle.” You took the knife from him and put it away, taking a deep breath. You stepped back out to the road, leaning against the car. You shut your eyes, something heavy draped over you. You peeled one eye open, Lyle leaning back against the car next to you in a blue flannel and dark gray t-shirt. His black hooded jacket was over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around yourself. You squeezed your eyes tight, shuddering before warm arms embraced you, Lyle almost as tall as Dean holding you close to him. “How did you know I was down there?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said.

“What year is it?” you asked.

“2089.” You froze, staring up at him. “Well, 2089 where we are right now is.”

“Lyle. It was 2018 when Michael took me. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t answer that either.” Tears welled up in your eyes and he hugged you again. “Sorry.”

“Dean was thirty nine the last time I saw him and it’s seventy one years later? He is dead. Sam is dead. They’re all dead so explain to me how the fucking hell I have a son with Dean!” you shouted. You pushed him away and ran your hands over your face. “Years. Fucking years I’ve sat down there waiting for him to come and get me. Him or Sam or someone. Fucking seventy one years!”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding a bit awkward but he cleared his throat. “I can’t answer everything because I don’t know everything. But I exist and that should tell you something.”

You wiped off your face with his sleeve and looked around, turning back and staring at him.

“I’m at the start of whatever this is and you’re way down the line,” you said. He nodded with a slight smile.

“I don’t understand it but this, where I’m from, this has already happened to you.”

“You’re from the future then,” you said.

“Not exactly,” he said.

“A different universe?” He looked at you like you were nuts and the air shifted, Lyle freezing. You turned and saw Jack, a smile on his face. “Jack?”

“Hi Y/N,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a big hug, a little bit of ache inside you easing finally. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just on pause.”

“Jack I don’t understand fucking anything. What’s going on?” you asked. He pursed his lips and sighed.

“Well you already figured out Lyle is your and Dean’s son. I didn’t think I could slip that one past you. But it had to be him that came and saved you.”

“Why?”

“Dean’s in heaven. Has been for 69 years.” You broke away from him feeling like you’d had a punch to gut and making you breathless. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that with the whole decades worth of trauma thing happening right now.”

“Did Michael…” you trailed off.

“No. A piece of rebar on a vamp hunt,” he said.

“He what?” you said.

“Yeah got pushed back on it. Sam was okay though. Oh and Dean had a dog for a few months.”

“Dean fucking died from that? That’s what kept him down?” you said. Jack nodded and you looked down, blinking your eyes. “Disregarding what is going on in my head right now about that, why didn’t you heal him? Or Castiel?”

“Well Cas was in heaven helping me rebuild after he sort of died and I brought him back. I kinda am the new God,” he said with a smile.

“I’m proud of that but again, why didn’t you come down here and heal Dean?”

“I’m sort of hands off in that regard,” he said. You were about to go off on him for that when it hit you.

“Jack how long have you known I was alive,” you said.

“2020 when I took over, I got these extra-”

“You knew I was alive and left me in a hole in the ground for over seventy years?” you said.

“Like I said, I’m hands off,” he said.

“I was your fucking mom! I took care of you! I protected you! I almost died for you more than once and when you find out I’m still alive you say fuck that bitch, she can deal with it on her own? What the fuck is wrong with you!” you shouted. You slapped him in the face, Jack pouting as you sank down to your knees. “I want Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“I want Dean and Sam.”

“Y/N-”

“I want Dean!”

“I can’t-”

“Fuck you! You’re as every bit as evil as that devil father of yours after all,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, tears prickling in his eyes. “Oh did I hurt your feelings? Tough fucking shit! Do you realize that I have not only been stuck waiting for years but my body got stuck too. I’ve been sitting with broken ribs for seventy years. Every single breath excruciating.”

You yanked up your shirt, deep purple and black skin radiating across most of your abdomen. Jack reached out a hand and you moved back, dropping your shirt.

“I thought you were hands off. I don’t want your-” you said before warmth trickled through you, the pain gone, body feeling so strange at being without it.

“I don’t have to touch to heal you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bowed his head. “I tried to let people live their lives without my interference and sometimes they’re messy but I’ve come to realize recently that’s wrong. A bit of help here and there is good. It gives people hope and maybe I should have done things different.”

“My family’s dead and I don’t want to wait around decades more to see them again in heaven. You’re going to-”

“No I won’t. Lyle’s life counts on you doing exactly what you’re supposed to as do your two other children’s. I can’t just put you in heaven. You can’t die right and you have to wait to see Dean until things work themselves out. Lyle’s going to be with you for a while and help get some things settled. It’s already set in motion so go with it,” he said.

“Jack I want Dean. Please,” you said. “Please Jack. Just five minutes.”

“Would you rather have your family back in the near future, alive, or would you rather have your and Dean’s souls torn apart and you never see him again, dead or alive? Rather he over there doesn’t exist? Rather no one exists?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course I would rather have them back alive-“

“Then be patient.”

“Jack. You gotta give me something. Something please.”

“I’ll talk to Lyle, tell him he can loosen up some. But I can’t tell you what to do. You have to follow your gut. Listen to Lyle and it’ll work out,” said Jack. You squeezed your eyes shut, Jack carefully resting a hand on your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“I hate that our family was ripped apart. I hate that you didn’t tell the boys I was alive once you knew. I hate that the last time I saw Dean alive we argued. I think what I hate most of all is that you treated us like everyone else. We’re not, Jack. We’re your family. All of us deserved a chance at normal and we didn’t get it.”

“Sam did.”

“How many years did Sam live without us? Without his brother?” you asked. Jack glanced down and you nodded. “You said you became God? Why didn’t you get rid of the monsters altogether Jack. Don’t tell me you don’t have that power.”

“I thought...I thought it was the natural order.”

“Yet you know there are other universes with no monsters at all. You could have taken the monsters away. Shit turn them human for all I care. The boys didn’t have to keep hunting after you took over. You could have been hands off and changed that one fact and saved so many lives, improved so many lives.”

“No. I couldn’t have changed it. Not back then.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked. He pulled his hand away and you found yourself in some clean clothes, Lyle’s jacket folded on top of the car.

“Because when I became God, I learned a lot. It sucks knowing that certain things have to happen and that I had to ignore when Sam prayed to me in that barn because things had to happen this way.”

“But why?”

“Because if I didn’t, if I’d intervened then and there, this universe, all of the ones I’ve been busy rebuilding, the way I’ve been rebuilding heaven...it’d be gone. Destroyed and I wouldn’t be able to put it back. It’s a temporary pain even if it doesn’t seem like it. So please, Y/N, please, listen to Lyle. Work with him. It’ll work out and things can be okay. You can have everything you ever wanted and more. You can have the freaking apple pie life and the no monsters and all of it but please understand you have more shit to go through first and whatever happens, do not let Lyle die.”

“He’s my son. I wouldn’t let that happen to him,” you said. Jack nodded and you grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “You’ve grown up Jackie.”

“I’m still a baby by God standards,” he said.

“The guys take care of you after I was gone?” you asked.

“Yeah. I missed you though,” he said. “I accidentally killed Mary and sort of lost my soul for a bit. Things got bad for a while.”

“Do you see Kelly in heaven sometimes? Mary?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “Kids can fuck up and your parents will forgive you.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Y/N. If I could snap my fingers to fix it all, stop it from ever happening, I would.”

“I’m going to trust that it had to be this way,” you said. “But give me a ballpark figure here. When do I get the guys back?”

“That’s relative. You’re going to end up breaking the space time continuum so it’s hard to answer that correctly.” You stared at him and he shrugged. “Not too long. A few days at most. I promise.”

“Wait is that how we have a twenty year old son?” you asked.

“Yes. The next time you see Dean he’ll be younger than the last you saw him. Just trust your gut and Lyle. Next time I see you I hope things are much better,” he said. You opened your mouth but he disappeared. You shook your head and turned around, Lyle now wearing his jacket, standing closer to the passenger seat door. For a long while you both simply stared, Lyle looking as if he’d just had his own long conversation with Jack.

“You can call me Y/N if that makes it easier,” you said. He nodded and you took a deep breath, going to the driver’s side. “So. What’s the next move?”

“Jack just said after I got you out we had to go to Lebanon. He didn’t tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“Any idea where we are?” you asked.

“San Antonio,” he said. “So we go North?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Mind taking the first shift driving? I sort of haven’t slept in like seventy years.”

“No that’s fine,” he said. He walked around the front and you made your way to the passenger side, climbing in and sighing. He got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. “You and dad run a construction business.”

“That’s nice,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Dean’d be real good at that kind of thing. He’s really smart.”

“I know. Most guys can’t call up their dad for help on their architecture homework,” he said.

“You go to college?” you asked, Lyle nodding. “Do you know about...this stuff?”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not insane. I just got home on a friday night. We had dinner and everyone went outside to have a bonfire in the backyard. I went in to use the bathroom and Uncle Jack stopped me before I could get back outside. He said a lot of crazy stuff I didn’t believe but the fact you were in that basement...you and dad are only like forty but you’re obviously too old right now to have had me when that would have made sense and Uncle Jack said space and time is gonna break and-”

“Lyle,” you said, holding up a hand. “Relax. I just want to know, do you know what hunting is?”

“Dad doesn’t go hunting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. You smiled and nodded to yourself. “We don’t even own a gun.”

“I doubt that. But that must mean that something happens to the monsters along the way too.”

“What do you mean monsters? And why were you kidnapped in a basement? And what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be my mom that runs the family business and you kick ass in your soccer league in the summer and you can’t cook to save your life and that’s okay cause you’re really good at baking and pies and shit and I just don’t understand who you really are.” His face was flush, eyes fighting back tears. You smiled, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“You’re a good guy Lyle. We obviously did something right,” you said, wiping away a stray tear that fell. “It’s scary. It’s really scary. I’m not your mom yet but I will be someday. I promise I will tell you everything you don’t know when I catch up to your time. Dean and I will. But we need to go to Lebanon and the faster we can go there and figure out what we have to do, the faster we can get you back home where you belong.”

“But can’t you-”

“This world isn’t safe, Lyle. It is very unsafe for a Winchester especially. Please drive now,” you said. You put on your seatbelt and he closed his eyes. “Please.”

“I was supposed to be having a smore right now,” he said.

“I know. But saving the world is kinda cool,” you said.

“I don’t want to save the world. I want to go home and not see my mom be beat to shit. I want my dad to go back to teasing me at dinner and not being dead,” he said.

“If we do this right, you can go back to that really soon. It hasn’t happened for me yet. We can talk all about this when you come back. The night you come back we can talk through it all. But we have to get going. The sooner we go, the sooner it goes back to normal.”

“It’ll never be normal again.”

“Yes it will. I promise.”

“How do you-“

“Because I just had this really bad thing happen to me but someday I’m going to have you and everything I ever wanted with Dean. So it sucks right now but it’ll be better eventually. I know it will. You’re here so I know it’ll be normal.” He nodded and wiped off his face, starting the car up again.

“Y/N. Are you okay after...you know...being down there beat up all that time?”

“Not really,” you said. He took off his jacket and handed it to you. You stared before he rolled his eyes, laying it over your front.

“Sleep. I can drive.”

“Lyle.”

“Y/N. Rest. It’s safe. I got this.”

“You take after your dad.”

“Take after someone else too,” he said. You smiled and nodded, resting your head on your shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“Egg and-”

“Cheese on a biscuit, two breakfast burritos, extra hot sauce and a small hot latte.”

“At least my road trip order didn’t change,” you said, quickly relaxing and falling asleep for the first time in ages.

_______

A/N: Read part 2 here!

#tell me a story bingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn

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whelvenwings · 3 years

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who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #destiel fic #WELL HERE SHE IS #I'll reblog in a sec with the ao3 link because tumblr hates external links #also thank you so much to sammich for beta reading this ah #also if anyone's asking if i intend to be extra #and keep making banners for even little fics that i post #the answer is YES FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE #because what is more calming than photoshop and a podcast

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the End

Summary: Y/N Winchester was a hunter like her brothers, following in their fathers footsteps. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

During a case in Georgia, you meet the Dixon brothers and after saving Daryl’s life against a Chupacabra, the two of you become close. But, when the zombie apocalypse starts, life as you know it changes forever.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of blood, injury and violence.

Chapter 18-

"Jesus! It pleases me to see you, old friend." A voice shouted from across the room as you walked inside.

"It pleases him, indeed!" A different voice added causing you to chuckle softly before everyone suddenly came to an abrupt stop a few metres inside the theatre.

"Jerry." The first voice muttered.

You looked across the room to put a face to the voices and figure out why everyone had stopped walking and that's when you saw it.

The tiger.

They had a God damn tiger.

A pet tiger with a chain laying beside the man with dreadlocks who was sitting on a large chair on the stage. Straight away you knew that was the King. Where the hell did he get a pet tiger from though?

"Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you've bought me?" The King questioned, his eyes scanning the group of you as you took a step forward until you were beside Jesus, but you couldn't take you eyes away from the tiger.

"Indeed, they are, Your Majesty. This is..." Jesus trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the group who were all still standing a few metres back with wide eyes staring at the tiger. "Oh, right. I forgot to mention that-"

"Yeah, a tiger." Rick mumbled, nodding slightly as the tiger roared as if on cue.

"This is Rick Grimes, leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people." Jesus introduced as the group of you walked further into the room until you were standing in front of the stage.

"I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travellers. Now, what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the King?"

"Ezekiel- King Ezekiel." Rick corrected himself. "Alexandria, the Hilltop and the Kingdom – all three of our communities have something in common. We all serve the Saviours. Alexandria already fought them once, and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them, that you know them. Then you know they rule through violence and fear."

The King didn't say anything for a moment. Hell, he wasn't even looking at Rick anymore, he was glaring at Jesus who quickly raised his hands defensively.

"Your Majesty, I only told them of the-" Jesus quickly tried to say before the Ezekiel cut him off.

"Our deal with the Saviours is not known among my people, for good cause. We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltop's own travails, but we did not expect you to share-" Ezekiel started to explain, but now it was Jesus who cut him off.

"We can help each other."

"Don't interrupt the King." The man in the red jacket ordered who you thought was that Jerry guy.

"We brought you into our confidence. Why did you break it?" Ezekiel asked.

"Because I want you to hear Rick's plan." Jesus simply answered and the King nodded, turning his attention back to Rick.

"And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?"

"We came to ask the Kingdom, to ask you, to join us in fighting the Saviours, fighting for freedom for all of us." Rick said, motioning towards the group of you as you spoke and you forgot how good Rick was at doing this.

He was good at talking, good at negotiating with others. That's what made him stand out at the King County Sheriff's Station when you and your brothers rolled into town for that vampire case all those years ago. Rick was a smart man, he knew what to say to people to get them to listen to him and he clearly had an affect on the King who seemed to be taking in what he had just heard.

"What you are asking is very serious." Ezekiel commented.

"Several of our people- good people- were killed by the Saviours, brutally." Michonne said.

"Who?" Morgan suddenly questioned and you only just realised that he would have no idea about any of this. He hadn't been back to Alexandria since, he had no idea what had happened.

"Abraham. Denise. Spencer. Olivia. Nearly Glenn. Eugene was taken. They took Daryl and Y/N, but they escaped. Every second they're out here, they're a target." Rosita explained, looking over at Morgan who stared at her in disbelief.

"Negan murdered Abraham, beat him death. Nearly did the same to Glenn in front of his pregnant wife." Rick added.

It was weird hearing people call your father 'Negan' because in your head he was your dad, but at the same time, it wasn't your father. Negan was a different person. Your father would never do any of this. Neither would your brothers, but they were a threat. They needed to be dealt with and if you had to kill them... you didn't want to think about that.

"I used to think the deal was something we could live with. A lot for us did. But, that's changing. So, let's change the world, Your Majesty." Jesus said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"I want to be honest about what we're asking. My people are strong, but there's not enough of us. We don't have guns, not enough at least. Not a lot of weapons, period." Rick added, looking up at the King.

"We have people. And we have weapons. If we strike first, together, we can beat them. Your Majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse beyond what we can handle. We set things right. The time is now." One of the Kings soldiers responded.

Again, the King didn't say anything for a moment as he stared at his soldier before he looked back at the rest of you, his eyes flashing over the group before landing on Morgan.

"Morgan, what do you say?" He asked.

"People will die. A lot of people, and not just the Saviours. It... If we can find another way, we have to. Maybe it's just about Negan, just capturing him, holding him. Maybe..." Morgan trailed off, shaking his head.

"That won't work." You said, speaking up for the first time which caught the King attention.

"Why is that?" He asked curiously and you could feel the rest of the group staring at you, waiting to hear what you were going to say and you sighed before taking a step forward.

"Because they are all Negan. You take Negan or kill him, another will step up and take his place. That's how it works there. My brothers... they're with the Saviours. That's how I know." You answered, shaking your head trying to get the image of Dean with the gun out of your head.

"Your brothers are working for Negan? How do we know that you aren't on their side?" The King suddenly questioned and well, realistically you should have seen that question coming.

"She ain't one of 'em." Daryl quickly said defensively.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to silently calm him before you continued talking.

"Do you believe in God, Your Majesty?"

"Y/N." Rick warned, seeming to realise where this conversation was going.

You glanced over at Rick to find him already looking at you with an uneasy expression and you didn't blame him. It took him a while to come to terms with the Supernatural the first time you met him way back when, but the King needed to know.

"God is real. Well... God was real. But, he's dead now and he created Negan." You started to explain which caused a few of your own group members to look over at you in confusion and you had completely forgotten that not all of them knew the whole story.

"What are you trying to say?" The King questioned in confusion.

"Negan isn't really Negan. He is a man named John Winchester. John died over 14 years ago, but God bought him back and turned him into Negan. I know how it sounds, trust me, I do. But, I'm telling the truth. My brothers... I don't know what happened to them, but they're not themselves, they would never fight with the Saviours. But, they are-" You continued to explain before you got cut off.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Ezekiel asked, his tone stern as he leant back in his throne staring at you with a masked expression.

"No, but-"

"I've heard enough. Richard, escort the people of Alexandria to the gates-" Ezekiel suddenly ordered.

"She's telling the truth. I know how crazy it sounds. I've been in your position before when I first learnt about it. But, she's telling the truth." Rick quickly said.

"The supernatural is real. God, caused all of this. He bought the apocalypse upon this world before he died and he killed off all the supernatural creatures too. It's just humans and the dead. With a few exceptions." You added which just caused the King to look even more confused and pissed off.

Okay, you understood why he was staring at you like that. What you were saying sounded absolutely crazy, but there was no easy or gentle way to say it.

"The supernatural? Like creatures we talk about in children's bedtime stories?" Ezekiel asked in a blunt tone and you nodded.

"Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, ghouls, wendigos, you name it. The supernatural is real and before all this my brothers and I used to hunt supernatural creatures, but when the apocalypse started, all the supernatural creatures just disappeared-" You continued to explain before Jerry started speaking.

"I like cool stories as much as the next dude, but you don't expect us to believe all that, right? That's crazy."

"Crazy as dead people walkin' around?" Daryl questioned, appearing beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder as you glanced over at him to find him giving you a small reassuring nod. Daryl had your back with this, so did Rick. That was all you needed.

"I can prove it. I can prove the supernatural is real." You suddenly announced, catching the Kings attention.

"How?" Ezekiel questioned, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"Because I'm not entirely human." You started to say, glancing back at Daryl with a questioning look and he just nodded.

It was either show them what you were or let them think you were crazy. This was the only way to convince them and you needed them on your side.

"My father was human, but my mother was an angel. They had me and I'm what they call a Nephilim. Half angel, half human." You explained, closing your eyes for a second before opening them again, your eyes now glowing a bright purple which caused Ezekiel to quickly stand up, his soldiers all reaching for their guns.

"Don't." Daryl and Rick quickly shouted.

Daryl took a step forward until he was half standing in front of you, blocking you from the Kings soldiers.

"She's not a threat. She's friend. She's family. And everything she has said is the truth. Her brothers are with Negan, but she's not and we need you and your people to fight with us." Rick quickly said as you turned your eyes back to normal and grabbed Daryl's shoulder, noticing how tense he was.

"It's okay." You whispered, but Daryl didn't move from in front of you.

"The hour grows late. Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you and your people have given the King much to ponder. I invite you all to sup with us and stay till the morrow." The King announced, motioning for his men to relax and they all lowered their hands from their weapons.

"Yeah, we need to get back home." Rick responded.

"I shall deliver my decree in the morn." Ezekiel simply said.

None of you spoke as you followed Richard to the spare living quarters where he allocated everyone a bedroom and told you where all the facilities you needed were.

Once Richard left Rosita, Sasha, Michonne, Tara and Carl all disappeared into the rooms, claiming their bedrooms, leaving you, Daryl, Rick and Jesus standing in the hallway.

"That was risky. Showing him what you are." Rick said, breaking the long silence as he looked over at you and you just nodded lowering you head slightly. "But, it worked. It's gotten him thinking."

"Ya think he'll join us?" Daryl asked, but Rick just shrugged his shoulders before looking over at Jesus.

"You know him better than us. Will he join?" Rick questioned, but Jesus just shrugged his shoulders too.

"Maybe. He knows the Saviours need to be dealt with, but he doesn't want to fight."

"Could you do it though? If it came down to it, would you fight Negan? Would you fight your brothers?" Rick asked turning his attention back towards you.

You didn't say anything for a moment as you thought about it, but deep down you knew you could never kill Negan, not when he looked and sounded exactly like your father. You would never be able to hold a gun to John Winchesters head and pull the trigger and the same goes for Sam and Dean.

"She ain't gotta answer that." Daryl responded, grabbing your hand. "C'mon." He muttered and you didn't argue as you let him lead you down the hallway towards one of the spare bedrooms.

It was only a small room with a queen bed, a wooden desk and chair inside, but it was more than what either of you had at the Sanctuary.

Daryl didn't say anything as he closed the door behind the two of you before he walked over to the bed and immediately collapsed onto it, laying on his back as you stared up at the ceiling.

"As much as I hated Rick asking... if it came down to it, ya know what needs to happen." Daryl suddenly said, still staring at the ceiling and you silently nodded.

There was no way in hell that you could kill your father, even if it technically wasn't John, you wouldn't be able to do it. And there was absolutely no way you would be able to kill your brothers, you would rather die than do that and the thought of actually doing it... no. You had seen your brothers die more times than you'd like to count, you couldn't do it again. You had seen your father die once and that was the worst day of your life..

You still had nightmares about that day in the hospital. You and Sam left to get your dad coffee and when you came back... when you came back he was dead on the floor.

You still remembered Sam's screams as he sprinted into the room, dropping to his knees beside your dad while you just stood in the door way, coffee cup dropping from your hands as you stared at your dads lifeless body lying on the ground.

You remembered Sam crying out for help and all the nurses running into the room past you. You remembered Sam leaving for a moment before he reappeared with Dean, both the boys standing beside you in tears.

You remembered collapsing into Deans arms when they announced the time of death and cried. You remembered that day so clearly and there was no way you could do that again. Your dad was back, whether he was Negan or not, he was back and you couldn't lose him again.

"Hey." Daryl's voice suddenly called out, snapping you out of your thoughts as you looked over at him to find him staring at you from where he was still lying on the bed. "Hey, ya okay?" He asked, and you nodded, rubbing your eyes, hating the fact that you could feel tears rising in your eyes.

You were stronger than this, damnit.

"Come here." Daryl said and without saying anything you walked over to the bed and laid down beside him, staring at the ceiling before Daryl propped himself up on his elbow and turned to face you. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, angel. What's wrong? Ya worried 'bout ya brothers?"

"I'm worried about everything. My brothers. You. Rick. My dad... I can't lose them. I-I can't lose my family again." You whispered unable to stop the silent tear from falling down your face.

"Come here." He whispered, pulling you into his chest as you cried into him.

You woke up the next morning in Daryl's arms. He was still asleep, snoring softly from beside you as you laid there enjoying the small peaceful moment while it lasted. You hadn't slept a full nights sleep in weeks, but you clearly needed it.

You thought back to the days where you'd wake up in with Daryl in his bed in the trailer he shared with Merle. You always woke up before him, not needing as much sleep as normal humans. You'd end up just laying on the bed in his arms in the early hours of the morning, waiting for him to wake up.

Or the times the two of you would go hunting in the woods and camp out for the night under the stars. You missed those days where life was just simple. You missed going on hunts with your brothers and Cas during the week and spending the weekends at Daryl's trailer. You missed sitting under the veranda of the trailer drinking beer and listening to Daryl and Merle bicker about stupid shit. You missed the old days.

You laid in bed for another hour before Daryl woke up and the two of you met back up with the others who all seemed to wake up at the same time.

Ezekiel shouted you all breakfast in some kind of mess hall, but the King himself wasn't there and you had a bad feeling that he was going to say no to Rick's plan.

After breakfast, Richard lead the group of you outside where the King was waiting in the middle of the courtyard near the group that was practicing archery. You watched the kids that were shooting the bows and you quickly realised that most of them had a missing arm or leg. Some with prosthetic metal limbs in their place, others with nothing at all, but that didn't stop them from shooting dead centre every shot.

"This is life here. Every day. But, it came at a cost and I wanted more of this. I wanted to expand. To create more places like this. Men and Women lost their limbs. Children lost their parents because I sent them into a battle against the wasted when I did not need to." Ezekiel started to say while watching the group shoot the recurve bows before he turned back towards the group of you.

"This is different." Rick responded, but Ezekiel shook his head.

"It isn't."

"It is. The dead don't rule us. The world doesn't look like this outside your walls. People don't have it as good. Some people don't even have it good at all." Rick argued, but again Ezekiel shook his head.

"I have to worry about my people."

"Ya call yourself a damn king. Ya sure as hell don't act like one." Daryl muttered, which caught Ezekiel's attention as he took a few steps towards Daryl until he was standing right in front of him.

"All of this... came at a cost. It was lives, arms, legs. The peace we have with the Saviours is uneasy, but it is peace. I have to hold onto it. I have to try." He stated, but you just shook your head.

"Although, the Kingdom cannot grant you the aid you desire, the King is sympathetic to your plight. I offer our friend Daryl asylum for as long as he requires it. He will be safe here. The Saviours do not set foot inside our walls." The King responded.

"How long do ya think that's gonna last?" Daryl muttered before you both turned around and started walking towards the front gates.

The others all followed behind you as you reached the gates. Daryl called out to the men on the watch platform to open it up before Richard handed back Rick and Carl's guns which he had taken before you entered the community yesterday.

"You're not going." Rick suddenly said before you even had a chance to take a step towards the now open doors.

You quickly turned around to find Rick talking to Daryl causing you to frown in confusion.

"I'm not stayin' here." Daryl responded, staring at Rick like he was crazy.

"You have to. It's the smartest play. You know it is." Rick replied, but Daryl just shook his head before he looked over at you and Rick followed his line of sight.

"The Saviours would be after her as well. Why the hell am I stayin' 'n my girl ain't?" He questioned, slight anger rising in his tone.

"Because Ezekiel didn't offer it to her. He's cautious of her now that he knows the truth. We can hide Y/N at Alexandria, she can teleport out of there in the worst case scenario, but you can't." Rick explained, but Daryl just shook his head as he looked away from Rick, but Rick just moved to the side so that Daryl had no choice but to look at him. "Try to talk to Ezekiel. Or stare him into submission. Whatever it takes. We'll be back soon."

Rick rested his hand on Daryl's shoulder before he glanced over at you with a small nod and started following the others out the gate.

"Hey, I know you don't like this. But, Rick's right. This is the smartest play and the safest for you. Please, just listen to him." You said, walking over to Daryl as you pulled him to a hug before he had the chance to say anything.

Daryl just sighed before melting into your hug, wrapping his arms around your back as he hugged you as well.

"Don't like ya bein' out there without me." He whispered and you just chuckled softly with a small smile as you pulled away from him, your hands still on his shoulders.

"I can take care of myself, Dixon. Just be careful, okay?" You asked and Daryl nodded.

"You too, angel." He replied before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Y/N, c'mon." Someone shouted and you sighed, pulling away from Daryl who nodded softly giving you a tiny smile before you turned around and followed the others out the gate.

MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

-Gifs used are not mine. Credit to rightful owners.

#Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #Destiel #supernatural #spn

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Boy hates girl?

Title: Boy hates girl?

Square Filled: Stanford AU

Ship: AU!Dean x fem!Reader

Characters: Lisa Breaden

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, arguments, kinda cheating, smut, protected sex, enemies to lovers, and they were roommates, mentions of cheating/post shitty relationships, implied smut, implied oral sex

Summary: Dean crashes into your life and won’t stop bugging you.

Word Count: 2,2 k

Written/Created for: @spnaubingo

2020 SPN AU BINGO Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Are you fucking serious, psycho?” hands-on your hips you growl at the guy standing in front of your door. “Did you follow me home? I already told you the pie is mine.”

“Wait—what?” the guy cocks his head, looks you up and down before he gets a piece of paper out. “No, no! Not you again. Crazy chick,” he retorts, eyes a little narrowed now. “Did you hurt my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? What the fuck are you talking about? I came home,” now you lean in the doorframe, grinning like a winner, “ate a slice of the pie you wanted, and had a shower. I didn’t have the time to kill anyone.”

“This is my girl’s place,” you snatch the piece of paper out of the guy’s hand, frowning when you read your former roommate’s name. “She said I shall pick her up at seven.”

“Dude, that’s my former roommate and she doesn’t live here for like seven or eight weeks. I kicked her bitchy ass out,” handing the guy the piece of paper you snicker. “She liked to do this, ya know. Once in a while a guy came around and left heartbroken. Bitch doesn’t even have the guts to break up with a guy.”

“She wants to break up with me?” the guy sighs now and you pity him for a moment until you remember you hate him. “Fuck, here I am, trying to not be a one and done for once. Great job, Dean.”

“Wait…you are Dean Winchester!” you snicker, eyes roaming his body. “You must be last on her bucket list to fuck!”

“What the fuck!” Dean grunts, stepping closer to look over your shoulder. “Is this a sick game? Do you want to make fun of me, Lisa?”

“Dude, relax,” patting his shoulder you sigh. “Lisa, she had a bucket list of guys she wants to fuck during her time at Stanford. You were the last one,” licking your lips you look Dean all over again. “Don’t know why she broke up with you before you did the nasty.”

“I wanted to wait this time,” Dean hands you a single red rose, shaking his head. “I didn’t even like her that much. It’s just, my brother and his girlfriend called me a heartbreaker, and no one believes I can be faithful.”

“Only as you like to have sex and not commit doesn’t mean you are a bad person!”

“Exactly,” nodding eagerly Dean licks his lips. “I never cheated on a girl. I’m young and want to live my life to the fullest. I do not promise a girl marriage or crap. If you go out with me,” he shamelessly drinks your body in, eyes stopping to your cleavage, “you’ll get dirty soon enough.”

“Ahem,” dipping your head you look past Dean to see your nosy neighbor watch you and the cocky guy. “You better come inside or Mrs. Nosy over there will talk trash about me again.”

“You wanna invite me in, sweetheart,” smirk on his plump lips Dean follows you inside your apartment, eyes immediately drifting toward your ass. “I like the view.”

“Asshole,” you know without looking that Dean was staring at your ass in your sleep shorts. “I wanted to have a nap after studying non-stop. How about coffee?”

“Can I have a slice of the pie too?” he asks, eyes drifting toward your legs when you stop in your tracks to turn around.

“If you answer me one question, you’ll get a slice, Winchester,” he grins, eyes glued to your lips now.

“Shoot me, sweetheart.”

“It’s Y/N and I want to know,” fisting his jacket you look up at Dean, lips pressed into a thin line, “if you fucked my former roommate.”

“Nope,” he purrs, leaning closer to inhale your shampoo. “I told you about my problems.”

“You mean the problems other people have with your lifestyle, Dean,” you pat his cheek before you turn back around to walk toward the kitchen. “I don’t do relationships either.”

“Why? I’m simply curious,” he asks, following you toward the kitchen.

“I like sex, not heartbreak,” you shrug, turning your attention toward the coffee machine. “How do you like it?”

“Rough, wet, a lot of kissing and I love to do it in the kitchen,” you laugh nervously when Dean steps closer to grip your waistline. “Sweetheart, I could show it to you right now.”

“I meant your coffee, Winchester but,” your hands are in his hair seconds later, “give me some sugar first.” He kisses you greedily, forces his tongue into your mouth, making you moan.

“I’m on it,” he picks you up to hold you against the wall, hastily tugging at your top while you try to shove his jacket down his shoulders. “Okay, let me get you out of the top and I’ll show you the goods.”

“Deal.”

Your top and his jacket end up splattered on the floor. You are impatient, just like Dean when you grasp for each other.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whines when you take the lead, hand down his pants to get his dick out. “I need a condom.”

“The cookie jar with the naughty girl on it,” you grin when Dean looks at the jar with a naked guy. “Yeah, that one is the naughty cookie jar.”

“That’s a guy but fuck it—” while you stand on wobbling legs, Dean fetches a condom to roll it over his length, his pants still on. “You’ve got some naughty stuff in your kitchen, sweetheart.”

Dean grins when he ushers back toward you. His member stands tall and proud, reminds you of your favorite toy. But Dean’s cock looks much better than any toy you ever saw.

“Come here, lover boy-“ you crook your finger to lure Dean in. “Give it to me good.”

“That is the worst quote you could bring up,” either way, Dean grips you roughly, slams your back against the wall, smirking when you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You love it, asshole. Now, how do you like it?” wrapping your arms around his shoulders you smirk. “Come on, fuck me, Dean!”

“I’m on it,” Dean groans against you, fighting to shove your sleep shorts aside. “Fucking with clothes on is difficult.”

“Don’t act all coy now,” you dig your fingertips into his shoulders when he finally slips inside, thrusting forward to fill you in on go. “That’s much better.”

“Yeah?” he laughs against you, ignores you fought over apple pie this morning. “Worth a slice of apple pie?”

“Fuck me and we can talk about your pie,” how he manages to hold you against the wall and move at the pace he sets is a mystery to you. Dean groans with every thrust, loves the slick sound of your coupling fills the kitchen. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Better than fighting?” he grips your ass, squeezes your flesh roughly while you try to hold tight onto his shoulders. “Damn me, I should’ve taken you right there, in the parking lot of the fucking store.”

“Hmmm…” you dip your head, try anything to capture his plump lips. “You promised a lot of kissing.” panting you try to focus on the man move inside of you, not your ringing phone. “Fuck, call me later.”

“Shit—fuck—sweetheart I need you to cum for me,” if you ever heard a man make an erotic noise it's right at the moment when Dean moans against your lips. “Y/N—”

“D-Dean,” a choked-out moan leaves your lips as your body trembles violently. “I love fucking in clothes.”

“I knew you are a dirty little slut the moment you stole my pie,” Dean speeds up, chases his release while you tug at his hair, and crash your lips onto his mouth to swallow his deep groans. Seconds later Dean comes with a loud grunt, and a violent jerk of his hips.

“That wasn’t bad, Winchester—”

“It was a B, Y/N,” he sighs against you, tongue licking into your mouth. “Sorry, I was on the edge for months. I tried to be a good boy and not fuck on the first date.”

“Well, congrats and thank you for the orgasm,” you tug harder at his hair, grinning when he growls low in his throat. “If you want some pie, I want round two in my bedroom.”

“Already addicted?”

“Maybe…”

“There is nothing better than postcoital pie,” you laugh at Dean’s words, even pat his chest. It’s been a long time since you felt comfortable around a guy. “So, will you tell me why you don’t do relationships?”

“I thought you were about to leave,” you roll to your side, eyes closing for a moment to not watch Dean go.

“I could stay a little longer,” Dean offers. “I like your bed, it’s comfortable and I’m a little tired after round three. Hell, my jaw still hurts.”

“I had two serious relationships,” oddly Dean spoons you to bury his face in your neck. “My first boyfriend and the dude popping my cherry dropped me shortly after we arrived at Stanford. He wanted parties, random girls and I, well I believed in monogamy.”

“A cheater?”

“Nah, he broke up with me before he fucked the first chick. At least he had better manners than my second boyfriend,” you turn around to face Dean. It’s an odd feeling to have him so close.

“I only had one real relationship. Her name was Cassie and she kinda was the one breaking my heart back then. She wasn’t my first girl, but the first I fell in love with.”

“Anyways,” concentrating on the freckles on Dean’s face you try to swallow the lump in your throat, “my second boyfriend, I caught him in the act, on our bed. After that, I decided to never let anyone in again.”

“Sorry,” mumbling the word Dean slides his hand over your hair. “I’m the last guy telling you they were douches. I’m no better.”

“Did you ever cheat?”

“Nope.”

“In that case, you are a better man, Dean,” somehow Dean feels his chest swell at your words. No one ever cared about his side of the story. Everyone believes he’s a heartbreaker, a cheater even.

“WHAT THE FUCK DEAN!” Lisa drops her keys, furiously waving her hands while you whip your head toward her, grinning like the devil.

“Ah, hey, Lis’,” you give her a wink. “As you decided to steal my favorite dress when I asked you to move out and told everyone I kicked you out, I just snatched your boyfriend out of your hands.”

“WAIT—WHAT?” Dean gapes at Lisa, huffing when she throws insults at him. “Uh-you said she wanted to break up with me.”

“Lisa only sent her lovers to my apartment when she wanted to break up with them. She wasn’t here to meet up with you hours ago,” you shrug.

“I gave him the wrong address,” while you move your hand toward Dean’s thigh to grip it tightly Lisa throws a tantrum. “I called!”

“Ah, yeah,” laughing you look at your phone on the ground. “We were kinda busy fucking. Sorry, Lisa. The joke is on you this time.”

“Good thing I wanted to fuck him once and dump him too,” storming out of your bedroom Lisa kicks things out of her way, even smashes a lamp against the wall. “I bet he’s a loser and can’t get it up. I tried to get in his pants for weeks.”

“Yeah about that, he’s a bomb, Lis’!”

“Did you know she didn’t want to dump me?” brows furrowed Dean looks at you.

“No,” covering your eyes with one arm you sigh. “I told you she likes to do this. Anytime she wanted to dump a guy she left the apartment and only came back after I called her. I honestly believed it’s the same with you.”

“She wanted to dump me either way,” rolling onto his back Dean looks at the ceiling. “Guess I am luckless when it comes to relationships and crap.”

“Same, dude—”

“Why are you here again?” looking at the pie in Dean’s hands you eye the gift warily. “Dean, what do you want?”

“You see—” placing the pie onto the kitchen counter Dean sighs deeply. “I know you don’t do relationships, but I think we clicked. I know you must’ve felt it too.”

“I felt orgasms,” you like to play it cool, and not give away you thought about Dean the whole weekend. “Dean, this won’t work out.”

“How can you be sure if you don’t even want to try? I’m not perfect, but I promise to be honest and never cheat on you, Y/N,” shuffling on his feet Dean looks at you. “We could go for a date. If you don’t like me, we can stay friends.”

“Friends with benefits?” sliding your hand over Dean’s chest you look up at him.

“Deal…”

“Okay, the benefits ain’t that bad, Winchester,” this time you barely made it out of your apartment before he had you in the backseat of his car and later at the room he shares with his classmate.

“I heard you are looking for a roommate,” Dean smirks when you look up at him. “Well, we can’t always fuck at my room. The sock over the doorknob doesn’t always work out.”

“You want to move in with me?”

“Yeah, uh—erm,” stammering Dean tries to convince you to let him move in with you. “I mean, we could have sex anytime. I’m a great roommate. My burgers are the best and we can study together.”

“You will pay half of the rent and help me clean too. Only as I let you see me naked doesn’t mean I will treat you differently.”

“Deal, sweetheart…”

“Deal, Mr. Winchester.”

And then, they were roommates…and lovers…and best friends…and much later…they grew old and grey together…

Tags in reblog.

#Boy hates girl?#spnaubingo #stanford au #smut #dean winchester #au dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #kinda cheating #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester fanfic

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 2 years

Text

Christmas at the Winchester's

Title: Christmas at the Winchester [Part 01] Summary: You were rescued by the Winchesters from a witch who was about to kill you. They invited you to tag along with them and celebrate the holidays. What could go wrong? Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Square: Christmas Cookies for @spnchristmasbingo Warnings: None Word Count: 589

| Masterlist |

You’ve been staying with Sam and Dean for a few weeks now. Sam and Dean rescued you from a witch that held you hostage. They had let you stay with them since you didn't have a family anymore. The witch had killed them for some ritual and you were the final step, but luckily, you were rescued in time.

Your relationship with Sam was totally different than the one with Dean. Sam was more into the books and taught you everything about the monsters that they had hunted in the past, but with Dean, it was different, it felt different. Even though Dean was hesitant to let you stay at first, as the days went by, he was always checking on you and making sure you were comfortable. He seemed to be a very badass hunter but on the inside, he was the sweetest.

Dean had mentioned to you that this year has been different. They had been in fewer hunts because it looked like the monsters had taken a break. So, because of that, they planned to celebrate the holidays. You weren’t sure what he meant, but he was excited about it. Maybe they didn’t have the chance to do this in the past.

“Hey sweetheart, care to join me on a supply run? I need to get a few things” he asked stepping on your room door, “sure, give me five.” you said smiling, “Great, see you at the garage” Five minutes later, you were with Dean at the garage, walking to Dean’s car. The ride to the store was silently comfortable, just with Dean’s music in the background.

An hour later, Dean and you were unloading all the things Dean had bought. “What are you planning on cooking? It’s a lot of things you’d bought” you asked him while handing him some things for the fridge.

“Since we are kinda on a break for hunting, Sam and I decided to celebrate the holidays” Dean explained, “I’m sorry, but… What do you mean when you say the holidays?” you asked. Dean stopped what he was doing and looked at you with a serious expression, “what?” you asked.

“You kidding, right? You know, Christmas Eve, Christmas, opening presents, Santa, the decorated tree” You just looked at him with a blank expression, having no clue what he was talking about.

“I don’t know what Christmas is. Where I come from, we don't celebrate it” you admitted. “Well, sweetheart, it seems that you will have to experience it with us,” Dean said and you smiled, “So, what holidays do you celebrate where you used to live?” Dean asked, returning to his task. “We just celebrate New Year,” you said, “We write down our wishes for the upcoming year on a paper, and then at midnight we burned it down” you explained

That afternoon, after talking with Dean, you did some research on the topic. You wanted to learn more about it, but you got overwhelmed by how many different ways to celebrate Christmas were in different cultures.

While on a break from research, Dean called you from the kitchen, “what happened?” you asked, “I know you got overwhelmed by your research, so I thought that it would be nice to teach you how we celebrate Christmas at the Winchesters,” Dean said and looked at him confused.

Grabbing one of your hands and putting it inside of a bowl with a dough partially kneaded, “the first thing we do is bake some Christmas Cookies” he explained and you smiled at him.

Tag List is OPEN (DM or Link in description)

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Dividers from @firefly-graphics

#spnchristmasbingo #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment.

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

“You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

“Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

“Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

“Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

“If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

“Dean, look at me.”

He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, ��please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

“Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

“I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

“It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

“And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

“I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

“Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

“It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

“We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

“She’s going to wake up.”

And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

“She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

“DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

“What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

“Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

“I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I’ll be fine. Please?”

Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

“Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

“I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

“You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

“Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

“Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

“You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

“Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

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ejlovespie · 3 years

Text

I Know You

(Part 1 of 2)

Fandom: Supernatural - Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader thinks she was stabbed by the man she loves and left to die alone.

Reader’s Request: Can you pleaaase write a dean x reader angst+fluff+near death one shot where they have feelings for each other but they're too insecure to say anything about it, and then one day the reader is in a motel room alone waiting for dean and Sam to come back from somewhere, and suddenly shapeshifter dean comes in and stabs her multiple times and leaves her bleeding on the floor until real Dean and Sam come back.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2672

Warnings: Graphic Violence/Near Death/Fear/Angst/Insecurity/Eventual Fluff***GRAPHIC details of being stabbed and assaulted. Do NOT read if violence and descriptions of assault (sexual comments and being thrown onto a bed) are a trigger for you. ***

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon!! This one was tough to write but I really hope you enjoy it. I am SO SORRY it took so long. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Also, I broke this up into 2 parts because it was getting very long. Thank you for reading! :)

Reader’s POV

The loud knock on the motel room door made your heart skip a beat. Sam and Dean had left a few hours ago to talk to a witness and left you in your room to do research. Excitement at seeing Dean made your heart beat faster and a smile spread across your face. Jumping up from the desk chair, you quickly grabbed the bottle of perfume you had left on the dresser. Spritzing the air, you floated through the flowery scent before reaching the door. Taking a deep breath, you turned the knob.

Dean stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in tight jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and a jacket. For a second, you noticed the necklace he always wore around his neck was missing. Before you could ask about it, your eyes went to his, causing the smile on your face to fall. His eyes were so dark they looked black. Taking a step back, your heart started beating faster in fear. Dean was sneering at you in a way you had never seen before; it was almost...demonic. Instinct told you this man wasn’t the one you knew and loved and full on panic gripped you when you saw the tip of a knife poking out of his jacket sleeve. For a moment, time stood still before speeding up too fast.

Taking another, larger step back into your room, you tried slamming the door but Dean lunged at you. He simultaneously grabbed your wrists and trapped you in a tight embrace while kicking the door shut with his boot. An ugly growl escaped from his throat before he violently flung you onto the small bed. He quickly turned to lock the door and bolt the chain before whirling around to face you again. His eyes lit up when he saw you pull a gun from the bedside drawer. Shock and hurt made your voice shake when you asked, “Dean, why are you doing this? What’s the matter with you?” A smile you had never seen before took over his face then. It was too wide, manic even, and full of malicious intent. “I’m giving you what you wanted, you little whore. I’m finally going to stick it in you.”

Faster than you thought was possible, he lunged at you again. The gun was torn from your hands and tossed across the room before Dean’s heavy weight was thrown on top of you. You gasped when his knee landed in between your thighs. You could feel every inch of his large body crushing you and you gasped for breath. You fought him, trying to push him off, slapping him everywhere you could before he pinned both of your wrists in one big hand. Tears pricked your eyes when he leaned in and inhaled a spot on your neck where your perfume clung to your skin. When you tried to kick out, his knee came up fast making you cry out in pain and shock. You had never been kneed so hard in your most sensitive area. You whimpered and twisted away in disgust when Dean’s tongue darted out to lick your exposed cleavage.

“Dean, stop!” The tears you were fighting spilled over when he bit your neck hard enough to draw blood. You screamed as he pulled the knife out and plunged it into your stomach. You stared into his eyes, glowing with lust and hatred as he pulled the knife out and continued to stab you repeatedly. Agony had you begging and pleading for him to stop, to get help, but he didn’t listen. After what seemed like an eternity, your vision started to fade as red hot pain turned into numbness. Soon after you lost consciousness, the shapeshifter changed and slipped out of the room, leaving you to die.

Dean’s POV

They were held up with their interview. What should have taken forty five minutes turned into two hours of waiting for their guy to show up. Deciding to come back tomorrow, Dean had dropped Sam off at the library and headed back to the motel. He hated leaving Y/N alone for so long. He wondered if she was hungry..and if she missed him like he missed her. Maybe they could go and grab some food at the diner they passed coming in. Pulling into the parking lot, anxiety had Dean lunging out of the impala when he saw Y/N’s room’s door was ajar. Her car was parked right out front so he knew she hadn’t left. His gut twisted as he ran across the parking lot only to sink when he saw her. She was laying still on the bed, drenched in her own blood. Darting to her, he checked the pulse in her neck and silently thanked God when he felt a tiny beat. Briefly, he thought about calling 911 and waiting for an ambulance but he was afraid she wouldn’t make it. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up her lifeless body as gently as possible and ran out of the room. Laying limp in his arms, Dean swiped hair out of Y/N’s face before kissing her cheek.

“Hang tight for me baby. I’m going to get you help. You're going to be fine.”

Dean carefully placed her in the backseat before whipping the car out of the lot and driving as fast as possible to the hospital. The drive and the events that came after were a blur. A mixture of emotions threatened to break Dean as he pushed down any and every thought that wasn’t related to Y/N pulling through and being okay. She was going to be fine. She was strong, so damn strong. She would fight and live to tell him the name of the son of a bitch that hurt her. He would make this right. Although he didn’t remember calling, Sam showed up and barraged him with a dozen questions.

“Dean! What happened? Where is Y/N? Is she okay? Has the doctor come out yet?”

In a haze, Dean tried to think back and remember. He was sitting in the waiting room but they had rushed Y/N into emergency surgery as soon as he stumbled into the lobby with her in his arms. Looking at his watch, he realized that had been hours ago.

“I don’t know anything Sammy. I pulled up to the motel and her door was open. When I went inside...she was on the bed. I..I didn’t look at the room or anything; I just grabbed her and drove straight here. Nobody has come out yet.”

Dropping back down in the chair, he buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t stop seeing her. Couldn’t stop reliving that moment where he thought she was dead. His beautiful, smart, brave Y/N, soaked in blood and paler than the sheets she had been laying on. Gritting his teeth, he silently vowed to find the son of a bitch that did this to her and make him suffer. He didn’t hear Sam sit down beside him or pay attention to anything else in the waiting room. He just sat, fearful and angry and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in.

Hours later, a doctor stepped out and called for ‘Trisha Randalphs family.’ Sam and Dean both jumped up at the sound of one of Y/N’s aliases and ran over to the doctor. With a serious expression he asked, “Are you Trisha’s family?” Dean rushed out, “I’m her husband.” At the time as Sam, who said, “I’m her brother.” Looking tired, the doctor introduced himself and explained how ‘Trisha’ was currently stable but had very serious wounds. The surgery she underwent was lengthy and she fought hard for her life. Dean lost focus after that. Y/N was alive and that was all he needed to know. The doctor had gone on about details of the surgery and how she was in an induced coma for the time being. At some point, the doctor walked away and Dean headed for the exit, Sam hot on his heels.

“Dean! Where are you going?”

Without answering, they walked quickly out of the hospital and headed for the impala. When they reached the car and they both saw the back seat covered in Y/N’s dry blood, Dean’s chest tightened. He breathed in and out of his nose before slamming a fist down on the hood of the car. Rage was the only emotion Dean felt as he threw the door open and sped off towards the motel again. Fortunately, the motel was rundown and didn’t have a very attentive maintenance person. The room was exactly how Dean left it. Beside him, Sam made a sound in his throat. Forcing himself to focus and not imagine Y/N here, Dean looked around the small space for clues. He noticed a bottle of perfume on the dresser and picked it up for a moment before setting it back down. He wanted to uncap it and smell her but didn’t want his brother to see him do it.

“Dean, over here.”

Sam was crouched on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Dean walked over to see him poking at a familiar pile of goo. Dean knelt down next to him and grimaced. Knowing it was a shifter who mutilated his girl was helpful but he also knew how tricky they were to find after they had shifted. They looked around a bit longer before collecting Y/N’s things and heading back to the hospital.

They were there for several days before Y/N finally woke up. Sam had gone back and forth from the motel and the hospital but Dean had stayed with Y/N the whole time. Once the doctor’s had informed them she could wake up at any time, Dean knew he had to stay and be there for when she opened her eyes. They called Bobby for some help so he and Sam were working the case and trying to find the shifter. When Y/N woke up, Dean was sitting by her bed, holding her hand in his larger one. When she finally came to and turned to face him, Dean’s relief and happiness immediately changed to anxiety. When she looked at him, fear filled her eyes. To Dean’s surprise, she tugged her hand away and started gasping for breath. A nurse ran in, shoving past him, to check on Y/N. She was gasping and yelling, “No! Please! Stop!” The nurse, an older woman, tried calming her with soothing words while she administered something into her IV bag. A few seconds later, Y/N was limp again.

Panicked, Dean demanded, “What did you give her?!” The nurse gave him a sad smile before saying, “It’s just a sedative to keep her calm until her wounds are healed. You’re the husband right? Just give her some time. She has gone through a very traumatic experience.” She patted his cheek before stepping out of the room again. Dean fell back into the chair and grabbing Y/N’s hand, brought her fingers to his lips. Feeling lost and scared he kissed her skin and begged her to be okay.

They were there for a week longer than planned. Sam and Bobby had finished up the case and were now fully hunting the shifter. The problem was the trail went cold. Other than the few clues they had already looked into, the only person that could bring more information to the table was Y/N. Unfortunately, the few times she had woken, she had taken one look at Dean and broken down so bad she had to be sedated. Eventually, Sam had been there instead of Dean, suggesting to his brother that he go take a shower. Y/N had woken and smiled when she saw Sam.

“Hey, there she is. How do you feel?”

Holding out a cup of water, Sam helped Y/N take a sip through the straw before sitting back down.

In a cracked voice she responded, “I feel like my insides were ripped out and then shoved back inside of me...but somehow i’m alive.” A tear slipped down her cheek when she continued, “Sam..I remember everything. I don’t know how and I wish I didn’t but I do..Dean..but not Dean..attacked me. It looked just like him but I know it wasn’t him.”

Sam stared at her for a minute while he processed the new information. “It was a shifter. We found it’s..skin, on the floor in your room. It definitely wasn’t Dean, he was with me and you know he would never do this to you.” More tears were streaming down her face as she closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. I can’t help it though. When I look at his face..I see that monster. It was..awful Sam.” Her voice broke saying the last sentence and Sam reached out to hold her hand as she sobbed.

Dean watched his brother and Y/N from the hallway. He heard their conversation and the familiar rage rose up again. The shapeshifter had attacked her while wearing his face. No wonder she had been terrified each time she saw him..That thought made the rage and constant fear he had been burying turn into pain. Would they ever get past this? Would Y/N ever be able to look at him without seeing her attacker? Marching out of the hospital, he dialed Bobby’s phone number. He was going to find this thing and make it pay.

To Be Continued.

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#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester angst #dean #dean angst #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean fluff #spn #spn fanfiction #spn angst #spn fluff #spn fangirl #spn one shot #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural fluff

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 3 years

Text

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood.

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?”

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy.

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie.

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?”

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away.

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm.

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him.

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.”

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @wintersoldierissucharide @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @chevyharvelle @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

#supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean winchester imagine #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fluff #dean x read #dean x y/n

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betweenthepages · 3 years

Text

Hold Me, Love Me; Dean Forester x Male! Reader

Warnings ⚠️ - mentions of rape, sexual assault

Summary: Dean has difficulty finding a mate due to being different to most omegas. But on one faithful night, he finds someone who will accept him for his differences and give him the life he deserves.

Word count: 3218

Being an omega wasn’t easy. You were the lowest in society, had the least power. If you were unmated, you had to deal alphas staring you down everywhere you went, pure hunger and lust in their eyes. It was sickening. However if you were Dean Forester, life was twice as difficult. Everyone figured he’d present as an alpha, with his steady build and towering height. When he was revealed to be an omega, there were mixed reactions. His friends and family were surprised, but they would accept him no matter what. On the other hand, he got looks of disgust from the townspeople. Omegas were meant to be small, pretty. Not like him.

Dean wished he had a mate. Someone to love him, take care of him and hopefully be the father of his future children. And if he found his soulmate, he’d finally be spared from men whistling at him on the streets or constantly looking over his shoulder while on a late night walk. No one would dare touch a mated omega. There were too many stories of alphas going on a possessive rage when another alpha dare even look at their mate for too long, sometimes it lead to death. Dean was stronger than most omegas, thank god for that but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Unfortunately, the chances of him finding an alpha were slim. No one could love someone like him, or at least that’s what he thought. Even though Dean’s body was different, his personality was very omega-like, something alpha’s would swoon over. He was shy and timid, easily startled. He had a look of innocence in his eye, which increased the common desire to wreck him. He was well mannered and had such a kind soul, always willing to help anyone who needed it. His heart was simply too big for his chest. Of course people took advantage of that sometimes, but he didn’t let a couple mishaps ruin his sweet nature.

Dean stared at the calendar on the wall, his face paling. His heat was in a week. And he was out of suppressants. Panic took over him as he realised he was supposed to start taking them today, as you have to take them every night a week before your heat for them to work. Shit shit shit. His eyes darted to the clock. 11:15 at night. Going out this late by himself was a death wish, but he had no choice. Going through a heat by yourself without medication was unbearable, and he wasn’t willing to go through that. He looked at his outfit in the mirror, making sure his clothes were baggy enough to cover every inch of his body, anything that might tempt alphas.

He took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his jeans. It was just a walk around the block to the pharmacy. Not too far. He’ll be there and back in no time. The icy wind brought goosebumps to his skin. There wasn’t anyone on the street at this hour, at least not anyone in sight. Sometimes alphas would hide in bushes or alleyways and pounce on unsuspecting omegas. The thought made him shudder. He increased his pace, following the light of the dimly lit street lamps.

So far so good. Just a little more and- fuck. There was a dimly lit alleyway he had to pass to get to the store. His blood ran cold. Fear churned in his gut staring into the dark abyss. Anything- anyone could be in there. Was he willing to take the chance? Come on you idiot, you’re just being paranoid. What are you, five? Just walk past it, no big deal. He was brave. He needed those meds, and he has to take the risk. He screwed his eyes shut, walking as fast as he could, ignoring his heart pounding in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he realised the alleyway was behind him. Unimaginable relief filled his chest. Of course there was no one there. He was just scared for nothing.

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps paced behind him. “Hey boys, look what we’ve got here.” His relief was short lived. Very, very short lived. His heart dropped. Four more pairs of footsteps followed. There were more of them. Dean’s first instinct was to run. But his legs felt weak, like he was frozen in place. He was rather agile, but there was a whole group of them. Surely one of them would catch up if he tried to escape. He turned around hesitantly, seeing five males about his age standing there, eyeing him hungrily. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out this late, hm?” The one in the middle, their leader seemingly, spoke up. Dean wished he could wipe off that disgusting smirk on his face.

“P-Please-” he took a step back, “what do you want? Money? I’ll give it you just leave me alone.” He felt tears well up. No matter how much he tried to reason with them, it was useless. “I think we’ve found our prey tonight.” He said calmly, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Get him.” It all happened so fast. Before he could process it, there were hands all over him, dragging him by the shirt, plunging him into the darkness. No one would find him here, no one would hear his cries for help. Besides, there wouldn’t be anyone else out this late to interfere. This couldn’t be happening. He prayed this was some nightmare and he’d wake up soon. But that wasn’t the case. He was truly helpless.

You sighed, looking up into the pitch black sky. No stars tonight. Pity, you usually liked stargazing in the park at this hour. You usually took long midnight strolls to clear your head. It worked too. An odd sense of peace filled the town’s atmosphere at this hour. Well, the atmosphere lasted until you caught a whiff of the air. A strong scent filled your nose, similar to stench of rain. Your eyes widened when you realised what it was. The smell of an omega in distress. And judging by how prominent it was, the poor thing was in a lot of danger. Most people would’ve turned back and went home, not wanting to get in any trouble. But you couldn’t stand the thought of turning around and acting like nothing happened when someone’s life could be on the line. Doesn’t matter what their status was, they needed help.

You sniffed the air again and you ran to the direction it was coming from. You really hoped you got there in time before something bad happened. Thankfully it wasn’t far, just around the street corner. As you got closer, you realised it was coming from a dark alleyway. Oh. You had a pretty good guess of what was happening right now. You’d heard countless stories of omegas being attacked in places like this. It boiled your blood thinking some alphas could take advantage of others just because of their biological status, something no one could control.

Loud whimpers filled your ears, and in the darkness you could make it a few bodies surrounding a large figure. Your fist clenched. Red filled your vision. It was all a blur. You ran up to one of the guys, knocking him out with one punch. Two others tried to jump on you, but you sent them flying to the wall. You swore you heard a crack at the impact. “G-Guys let’s go.” The group leader figured messing with you wasn’t a good idea. They didn’t hesitate to flee, picking up their unconscious friend along the way.

Now they were out of the way, you had to deal with the figure hunched over on the ground. “Hey-” you reached out a hand, but the person panicked, scambling against the wall. Fear pheromones wafted in the air. You crouched down to their level, slowly inching towards the trembling form. “Shh, I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be scared.” Your voice sounded so soft, so genuine, Dean looked up to make eye contact.

Something shifted in you when you gazed into those chocolate orbs. You couldn’t explain the feeling, exactly, only it was intense. And warm. All your senses screamed to you, ‘mate!’ You were stunned. He wished he inflicted more damage on those boys before they left. This was your mate, sitting here in a cold dark alleyway with the living daylights scared out of him. Dean experienced the feeling as well, only afterwards he felt shame. His alpha found him like this, in a pitiful state almost taken by other people. He was weak, easy to use. He whimpered, making your heart clench. Your mate instinct made you want to comfort him, take him into your arms and tell him everything’s alright, that you were here and no one was going to hurt him. But you couldn’t. Not now, at least. The boy had almost been attacked, and now he found his mate. He needed to process the situation.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” You asked gently, hoping the petname would coax him a little. “D-Dean. My name’s Dean.” He sniffled. “I’m (Y/N). Listen, do you want to go back to my place? It’s not too far from here. I won’t try anything, I promise. It’s probably closer than your and I suppose you might need some company tonight.” You looked at him hopefully. “Yes please.” He agreed quietly. You practically saved his life. And you were his mate. He wanted to be near you. “Are you hurt?” You asked worriedly, looking for any injuries. He shook his head no, there were just a couple bruises here and there, nothing too serious. “You’re shivering,” you frowned, wrapping your jacket around him. His eyes widened. He was completely enveloped in your scent. You smelt like cinnamon and honey. It put his mind to ease, calming him immediately.

You took his hand and helped him to his feet, extending an arm to him. He gladly took it, walking close to you. He’d just met you, but you made him feel so safe. You observed his facial features under the moonlight. He was so beautiful. He didn’t look like any other omega you’ve seen before though. He a bit taller than you, admittedly a subtle blow to your ego. But it was cute. The walk home was relatively quiet, understandably so. He was still a little shaken up from what happened, you couldn’t expect to him to act calm.

Your apartment was rather large even though you lived by yourself. You saw Dean looking around the place in awe, which had you biting back a smile at how adorable he was. You thoroughly enjoyed the thought of having him around often. Newly mated couples tended to move in together one or two days after they met because being seperated wasn’t good for their mental state. “Sit down.” You motioned to the coach. He did as told with his hands in his lap, looking up at you shyly through his brown locks. You took your place next to him, wondering where to go from here. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” You asked. He shook his head no. “There’s some soup in the fridge I can heat up for you. You can go shower in the meantime. I’ve got some clothes that might fit. How does that sound?” He nodded. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “No problem.” You smiled back, motioning him to follow you.

The hot water was therapeutic in easing Dean’s tense muscles. An almost disaturous night was slowly turning out for the better. He had a mate- an extremely handsome alpha. The thought made him giddy. Plus you were so, so nice. So far you’d welcomed him to your home and let him borrow your clothes and made him food. You were able to protect him. Nonetheless, he didn’t have time to swoon now, not when dinner had yet to be served. He admired himself in the mirror in the clothes he picked for you. Just a simple black hoodie and sweatpants. They were a little big but he loved them because they were yours.

You had his back turned to him when he entered the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove. You felt a presence behind you, your eyes landing on the omega. “Food’s almost done.” You said gently. He nodded but stayed put, interested in seeing you cook. “Can I watch you?” Dean asked, fiddling with his sleeve. “Sure thing.” Your next action took him by surprise. He gasped as you lifted him effortlessly and placed him on the countertop, his long legs dangling off the edge.

“So, Dean... How old are you?” You asked, wanting to know more about the boy who’d hardly spoken a full sentence the whole night. “I’m seventeen.” Ah, you’d be just one grade above him. “Oh, I’m eighteen. Do you work anywhere? What do major in?” “I work in a café. My dream job would be to work with animals though. I’m a biology major.” You hummed. The room went silent for a bit. Dean felt like the conversation was all about him and he wasn’t cooperating enough. You’d done so much for him so far and he couldn’t get a word out. He was nervous. Nervous about saying the wrong thing, nervous about rambling. He knew deep down you wouldn’t make fun of him, but his anxiety said otherwise.

“Soup’s ready.” You said, carrying two bowls to the dining table, Dean following suite. The two of you ate in silence, stealing occasional glances at each other. “It’s really good.” Dean said. You smiled warmly. “Glad you like it.” You were genuinely trying your best to make him comfortable and get him to open up. You didn’t want your mate feeling anxious around you.

He helped you with the dishes and before you knew it, it was time for bed. Despite his protests you insisted on taking the couch. As much as you wanted to hold him and cuddle all night, you respected his boundaries. Currently you were seated on the couch since you wanted to discuss something with him. “Dean, do you want to talk about what happened tonight? You don’t have to, but it might make you feel better.” You asked gently, squeezing his hand. Tears welled up in his eyes recounting earlier events. The sheer terror he felt at that moment was indescribable.

“I-I was going to the pharmacy for some medication,” he sniffled, “and those alphas came out of nowhere. I know it my fault for going out that late b-but I really needed those pills and...” If you’d never felt the urge to kill someone, you did now. But you needed to control your anger and comfort your mate. “Sweetie no, this isn’t your fault at all. You shouldn’t have to avoid going out and night just because some bastard alphas can’t keep it in their pants.” He looked up at you, eyes bloodshot with tear tracks running down his cheeks, a sight that made your heart clench. “Can I have a hug alpha?”

“Of course you can.” You brought him to your welcoming arms, Dean burying his face into your chest. You rested your chin on his head, faintly catching the whiff of strawberry shampoo. “Thank you. For everything. For saving me, for letting me stay with you...” His voice came muffled from your shirt. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe with me now. I’ll protect you.”

━━━━━━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━━━━━━

Panic filled Dean when he woke up in a stranger’s bed, unable to recognise anything in the room. Where was he? How did he get here? The bed sheets smelt awfully familiar. Slowly, everything that happened last night came rushing back to him. It occurred to him that he was lying in your bed. His heart swelled at the thought. However, he would prefer if the space beside him wasn’t empty.

You had just started on breakfast by the time he got to the kitchen. He offered to help out and the two of you chatted pleasantly as the golden rays of morning sun peeked through the curtains. You felt joy knowing he was warming up to you. Despite the short period of time you’d known each other, you felt like you’ve known him your whole life. It wasn’t awkward, there was no hesitation from either ends. It felt right.“(Y/N).” You hummed to signal you were listening, not taking your eyes off the frying pan. “You know how I told you I went out to get medication yesterday? They were heat suppressants.”

You turned to him, jaw dropping in shock. Out of all things to come out of his mouth, that was the last of what you expected. There was no problem of course- just short notice. “Oh. You want me to help you through it?” You wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, liking the way his face flushed at your words. “Is that really all you can think of?” Dean whined. “Well it is important to discuss wether I’ll be around or not. Do you want me to help you through it?” Being around an omega in heat was irresistible for an alpha. Even the faintest smell of slick can them into hormonal overdrive. “Mhm. I trust you.” He said. He wanted to be your first, last and everything in between.

On the third day you marked each other. Marking was a rather intimate action, it was the way of claiming someone as yours. They tended to be on the neck where it was visible to everyone, and you had to take care of them for a few days while it was sore, or else you’d risk infection and a deformed mark. It was Dean’s first time going into public since that night so you could help him move some of his stuff to your place. Let’s just say you weren’t weren’t taking any risks when it came to the safety of your omega. He’d be lying if he said your protectiveness wasn’t a massive turn on.

Day five was when the pre-heat began. The pre-heat period was when an omegas body prepared to go into heat. Excessive clinginess and need for affection weren’t too uncommon either. Dean would crawl into your lap at the most random times, whether you were working on an essay or watching TV. He wore your hoodies around the house, scented everything you owned. Cuddling was a necessity. Sometimes he’d get you to lay on his lap, massaging your scalp and playing with your hair as you nuzzled his stomach. Good morning and goodnight kisses were a must. You two started sleeping in the same bed, but you didn’t always cuddle. On nights where you’d slept a good distance opposite each other you’d find him snug in your arms when you woke up.

However, despite his bodily needs, Dean still respected your personal space and gave you time to yourself though he was constantly aching for your touch. Never overstepping, never being the source of your frustration. You couldn’t begin to fathom how you got lucky enough to be mated with someone as kind and warm-hearted as your babyboy. Fate was good.

https://ko-fi.com/sunehri_c

#gilmore girls #dean forester x male reader #male reader #bxb #dean forester #male insert #bottom dean #fluff #abo verse #alpha/omega

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city.

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath.

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #au #au!dean x reader #dean x reader #red hood!dean #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Devil, bring me to heaven

Kinktober day 5: Deep throat

Hauntober: Moonlight

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: You suck Dean off under the moonlight and you both are interrupted.

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), public sex, jealous!dean, kinda of non intentional voyeurism for a bit, hint of fluff bc yes

Your knees ached against the soaked cement. It rained earlier, making the situation more painful and you mind a bit more sickened with the realization that you couldn’t change a thing. Man, that would probably leave some bruises.

Then again Dean loved bruises on you. At least, this demonic version of the king of your heart did. He enjoyed love marks and hickeys before. It made Sam constantly call you two horny teenagers. It was rougher now, but this was still Dean.

It was Dean. That was all that mattered, even if you had to lose yourself to find him.

The cold ground was as unrepentant to you as the green-eyed demon's cock in your face. He was hard, his precum wetting your cheek as you dared to look up. The moonlight shined on his face as if it had always been meant for him.

You kissed his balls, already familiar with how he liked his blowjobs. You didn't have time to spare here, though. You two were in an open parking lot behind a forgettable restaurant — someone could easily walk through here. You had to make him come quick.

Dean's toughened hands caressed your head, tangling his fingers in the glossy strands of hair. You looked so beautiful like this, on your knees just for him. He may be a demon now, the Knight of Hell even, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you — especially when you knew his body so well.

“Come on, baby girl. Take it slow. You know I love some good foreplay, no rush here.” He pulled you back once your skilled mouth became too spirited for his liking. Dean was relaxed tonight. Maybe he'd even go slow on you later. You could take your time here.

You did as he said like you usually do when it comes to sex. Your smart mouth and commandeering nature always melted away when he was like this, exposing you at your neediest. Dean, of course, was more than happy to oblige.

You teased at his tightened sac, enjoying the weight of the stiff cock pressed against your cheek. Your mouth got greedy as time passed by, starting to mouth at the soft flesh of one of his testicles while your fingers slowly rubbed the other one. Dean let out a quiet groan, fingers sunken in the ocean of your hair to lead you to his throbbing cock. You two were dwindling into the night, coalesced as one holy sin.

Your lips had barely been placed on the side of his velvety cockhead when you heard footsteps. You grunted after giving his dick an open-mouthed kiss and started to pull away, but Dean wasn’t having any of this.

If someone had a problem with his girl sucking his cock, then he'd simply kill them. Granted, he'd probably kill them anyway for seeing you in that position — this was only meant for his eyes, green or black.

The unfortunate person might’ve been lucky to die for this, honestly. Dean would say that seeing you blow him off was a pretty damn good last thing to see before being murdered. He was a man about Sam’s age; tall, yet not as tall as Dean; and muscular. Dark hair, hazel eyes, and tan skin. He was essentially the guy you'd call your type before you met Dean.

The Winchester had seen enough crappy 70’s flicks to know you had a weakness for it. He already hates this guy's guts. He was going to die or, at least, bleed enough to make unleash a crimson river under the moon’s pale radiance.

What? He was a demon, after all. He didn’t need much of a reason to hate, much less channel his aggression onto any Tom, Dick, or Harry that so much as looked at you twice.

The man's steps grew closer as Dean guided your swollen lips back to his cock. You whined and nuzzled his sweat-slick skin as if there was no better place to be. Still, you weren't sure about someone else seeing you suck Dean off. You've never minded some harmless public touching, but this is way more forward than anything you’ve ever done before.

The male stopped in his tracks, the hard pavement under your knees digging into your skin as you jolt. Your lips were gentle to the base of his shaft. You kissed your way to the top where the precum smeared your lips. Your hands on his hips dug in, winding him in closer while your tongue soothed the ache of his weeping head.

“Whoa, woman. You know I love it when you do that thing.” Dean grunted under his breath when you slipped your tongue into his slit. Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock before swallowing him thickly, soaking up the warmth of his slick spill. “Yeah, honey. Go ahead. Take all of me into your mouth.”

“What the fuck?” The other male choked, taking in the scene with wide eyes. You didn't appear to be forced onto doing this, so he didn't rush to push Dean away, but why the hell were you two fucking behind an Arby's? This was his dad's restaurant!

You jumped a little when you heard his voice. Why didn't he just keep walking? You were so embarrassed by anyone but Dean seeing you like this. Even though you had your clothes on, you also had half of a cock inside your mouth. Contradictorily enough, it also turned you on. Someone was seeing that you were Dean's and he was yours.

The eldest Winchester could feel hesitancy in the tenseness of your neck, but he soon managed to wipe away your worry with his hand on the back of your head, caressing your hair with a gentleness that could only come from his human side.

“What? Haven't seen a hot girl sucking cock before? You should try a porn site, buddy.” Dean gave him a whimsy smirk, forcing himself not to moan as you swirl your tongue around the heat of his still-hard cock. You leaned in as he was coaxed with the promise of your tight throat. Just like you two trained.

Besides his flushed cheeks and obvious arousal despite his indignant surprise, the guy managed to speak: “Who the fuck do you think you are? This is a serious establishment.”

“I'm Dean Winchester,” the demon answered with a cocky smirk. The unprecedented third party to their fun might not know what his name holds now, but he surely would find out soon. “And this is Y/N Y/L/N. She's too busy to tell you hello right now, all hungry for my cock. My girl just can't let it go, not even for a minute.” Dean shook his head lightly, as if you were some poor, needy thing. Pursing his lips, he asked, “And you are…? Wait. I don't care. Get lost.”

“I'm Priestly Conner. Just the owner of this place.” The stranger, Priestly, groaned in fury. He was hiding the fact that his dad was the actual owner. How dared Dean to disrespect and degenerate his ego like this? The Winchester, though, couldn't care less. He gave the Priest dude or whatever was his name the chance to walk away and keep his life. You’d taken the time to swallow more of him, the glossy sheen of his swollen cock buried in your throat as you repressed the urge to gag. It was perfect. “Can she get up? And can you get your dick back in your pants and leave now?”

Priestly's voice was starting to irritate Dean's ears. Hurting his ego was good, but wasn't it obvious who had control of the situation here? Besides, he wanted to enjoy this blowjob, thank you. That man was nothing but a distraction. If you could talk now, you'd probably roll your eyes, slap Dean's puffed chest, and something along the lines of ease up and knock off the alpha-macho behavior, Winchester.

As usual, you'd probably be right. There was no reason to garner unnecessary attention to yourselves over a spoiled little man wearing clothes more expensive than Dean's car. He tried to take it easy and give Priestly one last chance.

“Yeah, sure. Just two problems: I don't answer to you, and my girl won't let go of my cock.” He grinned darkly. To prove his point, the green-eyed man moved back a little. You let out a sharp whine, nosing close enough for your nose to brush against coarse hair. His balls slapped your chin with the sudden jerk, your slippery tongue enveloping his hardness in a desperate effort to keep him close. Fuck, that felt good. “See? She's all about my dick, sorry. Don't worry, babe. It's all yours.”

Dean ran his fingers through your hair in a soft reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere without you. He murmured encouragement under his breath as you sucked his cock. His girl was so good to him.

“You… She…” Priestly was tenting in his pants, unexpectedly excited by the scene like it was live action porn meant just for him. Dean groaned. Couldn't this dude get the hint and leave? He was getting the best head of his life here. “G-get your bitch and get the hell out of here!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, both you and Dean knew he fucked up.

“Now, now, now. No name calling. It’s rich of you to call her a bitch and still get a hard on out of it.” Dean bore his cock down harder into the wet of your throat. It made you gag, but you kept going as if you were made to keep his dick in your mouth. When he howled, neither of you were able to discern if it was out of anger or pleasure. “Maybe that's why you don't have a girl right now, buddy. You don't know how to treat women, so you don't get a good suck.”

“You… ”

“I'm done with you.” With a waft of his hand, Pristley was thrown at the wall, hitting his head and falling unconscious on the floor. Weak. “Come on, honey. Make me cum so I can go wake up that son of a bitch and break his back for disrespecting you.”

A moan reverberated in your throat, causing a whimper out of Dean as his dick throbbed. He pulled your hair and started to move his hips, fucking your mouth as if he was fucking your pussy. He was tearing you apart, thrusting deep you like you had a sweet spot there too.

You felt so full like this. Sure, it wasn't like having him inside your cunt, but the warm sensation of his cock occupying all of your throat was heavenly even when you knew how inappropriate that sounded: the devil taking you to heaven.

You coughed when Dean’s rhythm hastened, thighs pressed together in a loose attempt to gain some relief for your wet pussy. Your hands cradled his balls, massaging them while your mouth swallowed his cock.

It didn't take longer for him to cum, shooting his load inside you as you took all of it. He tasted a little too salty, a flavor you’ve grown accustomed to since his transition into demonhood, but you found yourself quickly craving it. You loved how he tasted and how he came so much and all for you.

Dean kept his hands on your head, helping you remain standing until you swallowed all of his cum. You finally released his dick with an audible pop, looking up to him. The moon made the big tears budding in your eyes glisten marvelously. Dean felt so lucky. He helped you to get up, kissing you softly for once. The old Dean, your Dean, came in glimpses sometimes.

He tasted himself on your lips. It was a delicious proof that you were still his. He had to let Sammy go, but you were here. He still had family, someone to cling to. Someone who wouldn't change him. Dean licked your lips.

“So good, honey.”

Your legs still trembled as your pussy cried out for attention. Thankfully, Dean held you close. “What are you gonna do about him?”

You nodded at the breathing body on the floor, your voice gruff from taking him so deeply. He loved it.

“That son of bitch?” He groaned at the mention of the annoying interruption. You placed your hand on his heart, rubbing there. Dean placed his forehead on yours. “He disrespect you so he's gonna die.” His green eyes changed into black with a wink, showing the actual weight of his darkness. “And then I'll eat you out and fuck that pretty pussy that's already wet for me.”

“Dean…” You sighed, ready to try putting some sense in his head, but then his bruised hand slipped, fingertips touching your bare arm, your hand, and then your belly, hips, and pelvis. Dean pressed a single digit on your clothed heat. You managed to ruin your panties, yourself, and the silk skirt all for him. You gave in. “Okay. Be quick.”

“I wasn't asking for you permission to kill him, Y/N.” He raised his eyebrows as your hips chased his touch.

“I know, but you still need my permission to get inside me,” you said despite the situation. You didn't think talking so casually about killing a guy would somehow become your new normal. Although, in all honesty, it wasn't that different from the hunter’s life before.“Take it or leave it, Dean.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” He huffed, rolling his eyes before he pulled away to walk towards Priestly. “You better go wait in the car if you don't wanna see some blood, sweetheart.”

“Make it quick. And Dean?”

“What?” his gruff voice asked, turning to face you. You were so gorgeous under the sequin moon.

“Cuddles later?” You beamed at him, as if he wasn't about to murder someone.

The single smile he gave you in return could convince any jury of his innocence. “Of course, honey.”

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sunlightdances · 4 years

Text

Everybody Knows I’m Torn Apart

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Rating: PG-13 for canonical descriptions of injuries and swearing. Summary: You manage to call Dean a few miles away from the bunker. Despite your injuries, you tell him the basics: you lost too much blood, you need a ride, you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out soon. His gruff voice over the phone is the last thing you hear before you physically can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Author’s Note: I can’t stop reading/writing hurt/comfort fics. This is shorter than I wanted it to be, but I’m trying to find my muse again. Bear with me, pals. Disclaimer: Lyrics inset and title come from the NEEDTOBREATHE song “Mercy’s Shore”. I don’t own Dean or Supernatural. There’s also some dialogue in there very close to a scene from “Band of Brothers” which I also don’t own. Bonus points if you can spot it.

My arms are tired and weary These wounds are on full display I've tried every door in the hallway There's just nowhere that I feel safe

You manage to call Dean a few miles away from the bunker. Despite your injuries, you tell him the basics: you lost too much blood, you need a ride, you’re pretty sure you’re going to pass out soon.

His voice over the phone is the last thing you hear before you physically can’t keep your eyes open anymore. He’s shouting at you when you don’t respond, yelling at you to stay awake, dammit, but you can’t. You can’t.

You’re barely conscious when a rumble starts in the distance. Dimly, you feel relief wash over you. It gives you a push - you try to straighten up in your seat and cry out when the gash in your side pulls hard.

The driver’s side door opens so quickly you almost fall sideways, and then there’s a familiar pair of green eyes boring into yours.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hi, Dean. You should see the other guy.”

“Where?” He asks gruffly, eyes flitting over you, looking for injuries.

“My left side.” You grunt, “A knife. Also, maybe a bullet in my right shoulder.”

His eyes flash. “Maybe?”

“Pretty sure.”

He swears again and more gently than you expect, he leans in so you can put your arm around his shoulders. His other arm goes under your knees and slowly he lifts you out of the car.

“Don’t go to sleep,” he warns, “Keep your eyes open. Sam’s waiting in the infirmary when we get back.”

You groan, “S’gonna hurt--” Your speech is a little slurred, vision a little blurry. God, you want to close your eyes. You’re so tired.

“Yeah, well. Not gonna hurt worse than getting stabbed and shot.”

“You sound mad.” You say quietly when he stops near the Impala, setting you down so you can lean against the side of the car. He opens the door and looks like he wants to pick you up again, but you protest, waving him off. He helps you still, lowering you into the passenger seat, and then he’s shutting the door, the sudden silence overwhelming you.

When he gets in the car, he turns the key in the ignition and looks at you, “I’m not mad. I’m-- you’re hurt, you get that? Really badly hurt.”

“I called for help, didn’t I?”

He starts to drive. “Shouldn’t be hunting on your own anymore.”

You don’t say anything. This is an old argument. For a man who spent much of his formative years on his own, learning how to kill anything and everything, he’s so against you doing it.

When you first met him, you thought it was nothing but old school sexism. Women shouldn’t fight alone, the same old bullshit you’ve been putting up with for years. After you got to know him and Sam, you realized it was different - it came from a place of fierce loyalty, of friendship, of protectiveness. He wanted his friends close, even though he put up a front.

Ever since he was four years old and was told to protect his brother, he’s taken that mentality with everyone he’s ever met. Dean Winchester, the protector.

Sam meets you in the garage, hefting you out of the passenger seat before you can get a word out. His face is pinched in worry, and he curses when his hand slips from where it had gripped your waist, slick with blood.

“You’re getting blood all over my jeans,” he comments, trying to keep the mood light.

“I’m real sorry, Sam,” you reply sarcastically, wincing at every step he takes that lurches you in his arms.

On the table, you pass out from the pain.

When you wake, your shoulder and side are throbbing, and there’s two familiar forms slumped in chairs in opposite corners.

“Ow,” you mutter, trying to sit up.

Dean rouses, hearing you struggling, and surges to his feet, hands on your shoulders to keep you steady, careful of the new packed gauze on one side. “Sam got it out,” he says quietly. “You’ll be alright.”

“Nothing wounded but my pride.”

“That’s not funny.” He murmurs, sighing. “You lost a lot of blood.”

You stop his fussing with a hand on his arm. “Dean?”

He exhales hard through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t know who else to call. I just make jokes because… I don’t know. Trying to lighten the mood?”

He scowls, but it’s not as fierce. “Yeah, well. Do it when your life isn’t on the line, will you?”

He gives your good shoulder a quick squeeze, so you know he’s not completely pissed, but you still feel a little sheepish. You don’t mean to get yourself into trouble, you really don’t.

And -- maybe he’s right. It’s nice to hunt with other people sometimes. Hurts more when they leave or get killed, though, and you think that’s the root of it. Saving yourself from the potential loss.

You sleep a few more hours and when you wake up, there’s clinking of silverware coming from down the hall. You smell food and your stomach growls. You struggle to get to your feet, and notice idly that you’re wearing a shirt that’s two sizes too large. You remember how torn and bloody your own clothes were when Dean got to you, and have to resist the urge to tug up the neckline and inhale that comforting scent - whatever laundry soap they use and something else unique to Dean.

You make your way to the kitchen slowly. Every step pulls your stitches and you groan when you finally get to the doorframe, leaning against it.

“What are you doing?” Sam demands, “if you rip out those stitches—“

“Sit down.” Dean is on his feet too, pointing at the empty chair.

“I got hungry!”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest, doing his best big brother impression, and you shrink under the weight of his disappointment, sinking into the chair to his left. Slowly. Carefully. You try to tell yourself you’re not in a lot of pain, but you think it’s obvious, even with how you’re trying to pretend everything is normal.

“I would have brought you something.” Dean says, standing and grabbing another plate, starting to pile it up with eggs and sausage and pancakes. They really go all out for breakfast in this household, and you’ve missed it.

Conversation is quiet during breakfast, but you try to lighten the mood here and there, aware of Dean watching you like a hawk everytime you grimace when you move too quickly. Sam stares at you until you eat everything on your plate and drink two glasses of water, and then sends you back to bed with strict instructions to stay there for the next few hours.

“It’s so boring!” You say, not embarrassed about the whine in your voice.

(Okay, maybe a little bit.)

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, turning you around by the elbow and almost marching you from the room. “We’ll play video games or something until you get tired.”

An hour later, you’re on the third game of Mario Kart, and you’re fuming.

“You’re-- you’re cheating!”

“Or,” Dean says, pointing, “consider this -- you just suck.”

“Hey!” You protest, trying not to laugh. “That’s rude. I’m wounded.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but his face goes a little serious. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He shakes his head. “You’re so damn reckless, you know that?”

“I don’t mean to be.” You look down at your hands, embarrassed for how much you’ve worried the two Winchesters. “I thought I could handle it.”

He sighs. “I don’t mean-- you can handle it. Usually.” He smirks at you. “I care about you,” he says quietly, the confession ringing in the air. “I worry about you when you’re out there alone. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You have no idea what to say.

He’s so sincere - the truth of his words and the weight of what he’s saying clear in the expression on his face.

“Dean--”

“Why don’t you just stay here? With us?” He asks, looking hurt. “All the times we’ve offered and you’ve never…” He stops himself, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

You shrug. You’re not ready to have this conversation with him, though you suppose it’s inevitable. “There’s never really been anywhere I felt safe.”

Dean’s eyes are imploring, so you continue, even though you really don’t want to make yourself this vulnerable.

“I do, though, with you. And that scares me a little.” You shrug, acutely aware of his eyes on you. You feel like he can see right through you, see what you’re not saying. “I feel like I could be safe here, and that’s-- I’ve never had that before.”

Dean leans forward on his knees, hands clasped together. “I used to feel like that,” he confides. “Before we found this place. We never had any place that felt like home. That felt safe.”

You wonder if Dean knows he has this affect on people - that they so desperately want to hear what he has to say, that they want his approval, almost. Validation from Dean means everything. From a man who keeps everything so close to the vest, the fact that he’s letting you see this part of him means everything.

“I don’t want to keep running.” Your words are like a whisper.

“Then stay,” he counters simply, with a shrug. “Stay.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn reader insert fic #dean winchester drabble

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 3 years

Text

Party Gone Wrong

Summary: While at a party on the hunt for a ghoul, Reader gets trapped under a chunk of ceiling after a couple of explosions.

TW/CW: Dean Winchester x Reader, explosions, Reader gets trapped under a chunk of conrete and has a pretty nasty wound but it’s not graphically described, other than that just general injuries and concussions type stuff.

Requested?: Yes! An awesome Anon said, “Will you pleaaase write a Dean one, where during a case he and the reader are in a ball or something just like when he was with Bella, but suddenly the whole building collapses, he gets a little injured but the reader gets severely injured and she's bleeding a lot and he's trying to get her out as soon as he can. I looove angst but I would looove a fluffy ending. Pleaaase and thank you!!”

Word Count: 1,193

A/N: So, for the sake of this imagine Bella either didn’t die or this is set before she did. Reader, Dean, and Sam needed her to get into the party, and because I have a love hate relationship with her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Requests are open! Thank you in advance for reading and love to all!

Your POV

I observed myself in the mirror as I smoothed my outfit out and added the finishing touches. It feels beyond weird to have to dress up after wearing jaded jeans, faded flannels, and beaten boots, topped off with random t-shirts and a threadbare leather jacket for so long. This outfit almost seems like it doesn’t belong on me. I notice in the mirror that Dean has entered the room and turn to look at him properly, “Does this look okay?”

“Yes baby, you look fantastic as always,” he answers as he pulls me close to him for a hug. I lay my head on his chest and take few deep breaths but then we hear Sammy calling us from down stairs to hurry up so we won’t be late. Dean takes my hand in his and tugs me towards the door.

As we pull up to the posh manor under the night sky a half hour later, Bella straightens Sam’s tie and gives us our reminders about how she thinks we should act, etc. She gives us very little credit, granted she’s probably correct in doing so because I don’t think I’ve ever been to anything more formal than a funeral, the normal person kind not the hunter kind. Dean and I step out of the car and follow Bella and Sam into the giant house. She handles the bouncers and in minutes we find ourselves among some pretty fancy people.

I never knew that mingling and dancing could take so much energy out of me but I feel more drained than I did after taking out several vamps by myself. Unfortunately, the night is still young as we have yet to spot our target and reason for being here. A ghoul has taken to the luxury life and has been throwing these parties every weekend so he can stock up on groceries for the week. Finally, just when we’re about ready to call this trip a bust, the man of the hour makes an appearance.

It makes me sick to my stomach to see him schmoozing with so many people who are none the wiser to his true nature, with a girl on his arm nonetheless. In just a few short moments, Bella and Sam mange to get close to the guy but then all hell breaks loose as something explodes. As we run and duck for cover, something else goes off pretty close to us. Next thing I know, the ceiling has come down on us and I find myself pinned under a big chunk of it. Then, my senses are bathed in darkness.

I don’t know how long it’s been before I’m being roused, but it must not have been long as the smoke and dust is stilling hanging thick in the air. I try to move but the chunk of concrete ceiling laying on top of my lower half is too heavy for me to lift. I feel what part of my body I can but don’t feel anything too serious. I’m almost scared to see what’s under the concrete, however, because that’s where most of my pain is coming from. I hear the rubble shifting nearby and then see Dean and Sam out of the corner of my eye. “Guys,” I say to get their attention even though it hurts to speak, “I’m over here.”

Dean hears me and immediately rushes to my side, surveying the situation. I notice that Sam was carrying Bella who is out cold but, “Hey, put her down and help me get this off of (Y/N),” Dean instructs. Sam gently lays Bella down on a couch after cleaning it off as best he could before joining Dean in lifting the concrete off of me. I can finally catch my breath as they toss the concrete carefully to the side as not to hit anyone else with it.

Dean drops to his knees beside me and puts pressure on what I’m sure is a huge wound that was under the concrete. “Shit,” Dean swears, looking around before grabbing a curtain from a pile of rubble, “This will have to do until we get you to the hospital.” He helps me sit up before trying to tie the shred of curtain around my waist to stop the bleeding but swears again and shakes his hand, “Sammy can you help me? I think I broke my hand.” Once they finish with the makeshift bandage. Dean carefully lifts me up using his good hand and the forearm of his other. Sam grabs Bella from the couch and we make our way outside and join the rest of the crowd gathering.

I can hear sirens in the distance as Dean sets me down on the steps outside. Sam sets Bella down beside me as she begins stirring finally. The four of us wait patiently as ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars arrive. As soon as the EMTs step out of the ambulances, Dean is attempting to drag one over to me but I have Sam pull him back over to me. “Baby, you’re bleeding pretty bad, I gotta get them to come look at you.”

I shake my head and place my palm against his cheek, “It’s alright, Dean. I’m okay for now. Let them take care of the ones that need it more than I do.”

Sam looks around, “(Y/N), I think you are the one that needs it most. Everyone else looks to be about like the three of us,” he says referring to himself, Dean, and Bella, the last of which is currently hurling in a bush to my right, she has a concussion for sure.

An EMT makes his way over to us, as my head starts to spin, “Alright, what have we got going on over here?” he asks before noticing my curtain covered wound and dropping his bag beside me to gently tug it away.

“I think she has a concussion and they probably do to. His hand is broken,” I say pointing at Dean, sitting behind me, “and he was limping on his left leg earlier,” I finish pointing at Sam, who’s sitting on Dean’s right behind me.

The EMT chuckles, “Well, those things sound like they can wait. We need to get you fixed up first.”

A look of confusion crosses my face, “What do you mean? I’m fine. See,” I point to my waist where I thought the curtain was, “Hey, where’d my curtain go? I needed that.”

“Baby, I think you have a concussion of your own. Just sit tight and let him fix you up and then we can get us sorted out.” I roll my eyes but do as told and soon the EMT has me bandaged up.

He looks to Dean, “You guys should probably get to the ER, especially this one,” he says motioning to me.

Sammy speaks up, “I can drive us there, I don’t think I have a concussion.” The EMT nods as he leaves to tend to other people. With this, Dean lifts me up to carry me to the car and Sam helps Bella make her way there as well.

Masterlist

Taglist: @akshi8278 @emiijemii @deandaydreaming

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #spn #spn imagine #spn imagines #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester oneshots

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