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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months

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Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 1

This will fill the "It's mine, and you can't have it." square on my @jacklesversebingo card. The quote will be bolded.

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. This part is mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of making out at the end. They are both 17 when they're making out, so technically underage, but barely - and they are the same age.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 4,398

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. This part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19)

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean and Y/N basically spent their childhood bickering. They met when they were six, when their fathers teamed up for a hunt. The two of them, and Sammy had been left together with a friendly old lady who was mostly deaf, so she very happily didn’t have to hear their constant fighting.

They fought over toys, they fought over snacks, they fought over who would get the first turn on the tire swing in the old lady’s backyard. Dean’s longer legs always got him there first and he’d gloat down at Y/N, his smile wide and wicked.

“Too slow, Y/N!” He’d taunt. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!”

Since their fathers often teamed up, they ended up with the same babysitters, or in the same schools all the time. Dean was always popular; the teachers always adored him and his sweet smile and big green eyes. But Y/N was shy and slightly awkward, so the other kids didn’t usually play with her and teachers tended to ignore her.

Dean would never let that stand though. When they'd play tag in the schoolyard he’d purposely go up and tag Y/N even though she hadn’t been invited to play the game.

When he’d tap her arm, she’d scowl at him. “I’m not playing, you idiot.”

But Dean would ignore her and any of the other kids saying she couldn’t play. “You’re it!” He’d yell and then run away, sticking his tongue out at her and taunting her because he knew she’d never stand for it, and be forced to play. Once she was playing, the other kids usually didn’t care and the game would go on.

No one teased and tormented her like Dean did though. He was constantly yanking on her ponytail, or shooting spitballs at her from across the classroom. They competed over everything; test scores, who got to be the Christmas tree in the Christmas concert, who could skip with a jumping rope more times in a row without stopping, who built the best sand castle, who made a better volcano in science class - anything and everything.

In spite of that, however, Dean was also her biggest champion. When they were in third grade, Chester Hugo, a wiry little blonde boy, called Y/N fat and ugly and laughed at her. He showed her a picture of a whale in the encyclopedia in their classroom and laughed as he pointed to it.

“That’s you.” He whispered, and all his friends giggled with him silently.

Y/N tried to ignore him, but at recess she was standing up against the brick wall of the school as usual, and Chester began waddling around in front of her and puffing out his cheeks. “Look everybody, I’m Y/N.” He called out before doubling over with laughter.

He only laughed for a second though, because without warning he was tackled to the ground by Dean, and began shrieking and covering his face as Dean pummeled him.

Dean got detention for three days because of it, and got grounded at home too. Y/N felt terrible, but Dean said it was worth it because now every time he walked past Chester, the bully shrank away or ran inside.

When they were in the sixth grade, they went to Truman Middle School in Fort Madison, Iowa for a few months and ended up with a teacher who was absolutely terrible - Mrs. Abernathy.

She was ancient and obviously didn’t really like kids anymore - if she ever had. Her classroom rules were arbitrary and confusing. She was constantly yelling at her students for doing things that had been permissible the day before. She barked orders at them and expected silence from them at all times.

One afternoon the class was set to dissect a frog and Dean and Y/N were paired up to share one of the hapless amphibians. Mrs. Abernathy gave them their frog, closed inside a glass jar, along with a jar of cotton balls soaked in ether to toss in with the frog to kill him.

As soon as the grouchy old lady had moved on, Dean picked up the container holding the frog and pushed it into Y/N’s face.

“Hey Y/N look! It’s lunch time!” He said quietly, thrusting the frog towards her over and over.

“Stop it!” She said in an angry whisper, turning her head. After a while Dean grinned proudly at his ability to gross her out and set the frog back down.

Y/N looked down at it, and then got closer to the jar as the frog lifted its two front legs to press against the glass, looking for a way to hop out. It hopped around the confined space, rather pathetically trying to get free. Suddenly Y/N felt sick to her stomach and tears came to her eyes.

She looked at Dean. “I wanna let him go.” She said quietly so only he could hear.

Dean frowned at her. “What are you talking about? In like two minutes we’re gonna kill it and then look at its guts.” He said, trying to tease Y/N out of her concern for the frog.

But it didn’t work. Y/N shook her head, her tears falling fast now. “No, Dean, don’t kill it. I don’t wanna kill it. Look at him.” She said pointing to the little green creature desperately hopping around as though it could sense its impending doom.

Dean shook his head, trying to reason with her. “Y/N it’s just a frog. It isn’t gonna feel anything, the cotton ball will just make him fall asleep and then he'll die.”

But Y/N was shaking her head, her eyes slightly frantic as Mrs. Abernathy reached the front of the classroom, having given everyone their frogs. Suddenly Y/N grabbed the jar and yanked it open, allowing the desperate frog to immediately hop away.

She realized her mistake quickly as the frog simply jumped up onto another table and made the boys there scream and jump back, knocking their own frog to the floor so it smashed open, giving a second frog its freedom. The class erupted into chaos as the two frogs hopped around the classroom. Three more frogs had their jars smashed open as some kids scattered and stood on chairs, and some kids chased after the frogs.

Eventually, when all the frogs were finally rounded up and put back into new jars, (much to Y/N’s dismay) Mrs. Abernathy began looking for a culprit. She stood in front of Y/N’s desk and her always stern face was particularly harsh as she pointed a bony finger at her.

“That frog came from your desk, Miss Y/L/N, do you care to explain yourself?”

Before Y/N could answer, Dean stood up. “It was me. I opened the jar.”

Y/N looked at him, frowning and shaking her head. But Dean waved his hand at her. “Y/N told me not to, but I thought it would be funny if he got out.” He shrugged and gave a wholly unrepentant grin. “And it really was.”

Y/N tried to say something, but Mrs. Abernathy was too busy grabbing ahold of Dean’s arm and manhandling him out of the room. “Principal Yates is going to hear about this, young man.”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet as Dean was yanked out of the classroom. She sat quietly at her desk, guilty and sick feeling, as the other kids took full advantage of the teacherless classroom to discuss the frog escapade - loudly and with many sound effects.

When Mrs. Abernathy returned, Dean wasn’t with her. Y/N tried to talk to her and explain the truth, but the teacher wouldn’t listen.

“Enough!” She shouted angrily. “There has been more than enough disruption in this classroom for today. Sit down and take out your math textbook.” Y/N opened her mouth and the old lady sliced her hand through the air. “Now!” She barked loudly, making all the other students pull their textbooks out as well.

Y/N didn’t see Dean again until the end of school. He was walking down the side road that led to the motel they were all staying in.

“Dean, wait up!” She called to him and he slowed his long stride. When she reached him she shook her head. “What were you thinking? Why did you say you did it?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. I just like to see Abernathy go berserk.” He said with a lazy smile.

Y/N frowned. “You got in trouble. Did you get detention again, or -” She stopped still and gasped. “Were you suspended?”

Dean just shook his head and kept walking. “No, it’s fine.”

Y/N ran after him. “What do you mean? What did Mr. Yates do?” When Dean just sped up and kept walking Y/N reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to force him to stop.

Dean winced and inhaled sharply, his face contorting in pain. He tried to pull his hand away, but Y/N had already seen the huge red welts that were spread over his palm and fingers. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she stepped closer and cradled his hand in hers.

“He gave you the strap?” She whispered, horrified at the image of Dean’s hands being struck over and over with the thick leather strap the principal kept hanging just outside his office.

Dean shrugged as Y/N lifted his other hand and looked at the damage there too. “Yep, five licks for each hand. Said it was supposed to make me remember to not let the devil use my idle hands for mischief.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait till we're out of this bible-thumping, piece of shit town.”

Despite the life they led, Y/N was still sheltered enough that hearing Dean swear felt rebellious and she blushed a little. Then she sniffled and looked at Dean with remorse suffusing her face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have done it. And I really wish you hadn’t said it was you. I should have been the one getting strapped.”

Dean frowned darkly. “No, that would have been so much worse.” He said quickly.

Y/N’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dean’s face flushed and he just shrugged and pulled his hands away from her. “No, I mean - I just mean, you know I’m a hunter, I’m used to it. I mean the last hunt I went out on, I took down a werewolf.” He bragged. “You and Sammy, you’re still soft.”

Y/N scoffed at that, running to keep up with him as he walked on. “Whatever, oh great Winchester. ‘Took down a werewolf’? I feel like you probably had some help from your dad and mine.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter! I still fought him.” He argued, and the fight was back on.

***

Within a few years though, Sam and Y/N did begin to join the hunts. They started slowly, hunting ghouls and wraiths, and other easier-to-hunt monsters.

However, in Y/N and Dean's Junior year, the end of middle school for Sam, their Dads began asking more of them, claiming that they needed to concentrate on learning to hunt. They told the two of them that they were needed for more important things than algebra. That was when Dean dropped out of high school, going to work with them and hunting full time.

He told Y/N that he was just sick of school, and he’d never need it anyway. But Y/N knew he’d done it to give their Dads the help they wanted while giving her and Sam more time to be students.

By the time they were sixteen Y/N had figured Dean out. He still teased her mercilessly, constantly trying to annoy her with his hard rock, making fun of the boy bands she listened to. When she scored a ninety-five on her chemistry test, he’d called her poindexter for two weeks straight.

But he was also fiercely protective, and he would bloody the nose of anyone who tried to hurt either her or Sam.

And she knew she was right about why he dropped out of school. Sometimes, when she and Sam were sitting around the motel room doing homework together, discussing the novel one of them was reading, or trying to make sense of trigonometry, she’d look up and catch Dean watching them with a look of longing on his face as he was cleaning weapons.

It was always gone in an instant when he noticed her watching, and he’d usually crack some kind of joke about what nerds they were, but Y/N knew what she saw. She would usually suggest that they stop their homework and watch a movie. Or she’d beg Dean to take them for a ride in the Impala that he’d inherited when he turned sixteen and his dad bought a truck. He’d always act like it was a huge pain, but she knew he loved it when they all piled into the car, rolled the windows down, and pretended to be carefree teens for a while.

She knew him and he couldn't get anything past her.

What did sneak up on Y/N, however, was how much she actually liked Dean. Like…like-liked him.

It became clear to her one day when she was seventeen, and in her senior year. Dean swung by one afternoon to pick up her and Sam after school. He was standing outside, leaning against his beloved car, waiting for them to show. She rounded the corner with a few girls she was doing a group project with; they were trying to iron out details of when they were going to meet to collaborate.

When she saw Dean waiting there, she raised her hand to let him know she saw him and she was coming. Sam bolted past her and ran to the car. “Tell him I’m coming!” Y/N yelled after him.

She turned back to the discussion wanting to hurry up so she didn’t miss her chance at a ride. But all of the girls were just staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What?” She asked, self consciously covering her face slightly, worried she had something in her teeth.

The short girl to her right, Tracy she thought her name was, sputtered slightly and then looked pointedly at Dean. “Are you kidding me? What? Who?” She asked, flipping her hand quickly in Dean’s direction. “Who the hell is that?”

“Oh,” Y/N responded slightly confused, “that’s just Dean.”

“Dean?” The red-headed girl across from her asked. “Is he your brother?”

“What? Ew! No.” Y/N denied vehemently, and it took her a moment to figure out why that idea grossed her out so much. When the girl with braces (Sheila?) spoke though, the reason hit Y/N like a Mac truck.

“He’s so ridiculously hot!” Sheila exclaimed and all the other girls agreed quickly, giving giggly little moans and being incredibly obvious about staring at Dean.

At first Y/N’s mind wanted to mock that idea, remnants of their childhood rivalries and bickering jumping forward. But then she looked back at him where he still stood, talking to Sam.

Holy crap, she realized with a bolt of lightning kind of realization, he really is ridiculously hot.

He wore black jeans and his black Metallica t-shirt which stretched tightly across his newly broadened shoulders. His hair was thick and perpetually looked like he’d carelessly run his fingers through it. His smile was bright and blinding even across the schoolyard, and though none of them could see it, she knew his eyes would be twinkling in that mischievous way they did when he was bent on getting into trouble.

She could see that he was noticing all the attention he was getting, and he patted Sam on the shoulder and started to walk towards them. Sam gave a full-body eye roll and got into the back seat.

The girls all turned shrill as he approached, laughing like dying hyenas. Y/N felt anger start to burn in her stomach and it confused her. But when Dean stopped in front of them and smiled charmingly at each of them, Y/N recognized that it was jealousy turning her heart green and she was shocked.

“Hello, ladies.” Dean said in a would-be suave kind of way. It made Y/N roll her eyes, but her classmates practically swooned.

A chorus of dreamy hellos followed and Y/N grabbed on to Dean to pull him away. But Dean resisted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I’ve, uh, got my car over there.” He said, thumbing towards the Impala, his face full of teenage boy pride. “Anyone need a lift?”

All of them began nodding and squealing, but Y/N shouted over them. “No, it’s fine, Dean, let’s just go. They’re good.” She succeeded in dragging him off but when they were a few yards away from them, Y/N ran back quickly to warn her temporary classmates, using a paraphrased version of she and Dean’s childhood refrain.

“Stay away from him. He’s mine and you can’t have him.”

***

Once Y/N realized her feelings for Dean, things became very awkward for her. All the things that used to be simple, sitting beside him to watch a movie, training with him for hunts, simply sitting across the room from him and looking at him - they all became unbearable situations that she didn’t know how to deal with.

When she sat beside him now she could feel the way he radiated warmth, she could feel her heart skip a beat when he’d shift his leg so his thigh pressed against hers. When they were training, simple holds that she had only ever cared about breaking out of before, now left her breathing heavy. When his big hand would wrap around her wrist or whenever he'd reach his strong arms around her waist from behind, it was everything she could do not to just sink into his arms like putty.

About a week and a half after her epiphany hit, she and Dean were alone in the motel room, sparring, and he pushed her up against a wall, pinning her there and expecting she'd try to get out. But he was breathing softly across her cheek, his face inches from hers and her whole body started tingling, making her lose her grip on the knife she held. It fell from her grasp and ended up slicing his calf on the way down.

“Aah! Jesus!” Dean shouted as he let her go and hobbled away from her. “What the hell, Y/N? What’s wrong with you?”

He sat down on the bed and Y/N ran over to pull up his slashed jeans, gasping at the long wound that bled down the side of his calf.

“Oh my god, Dean!” She said, jumping up and quickly grabbing the first aid kit. She got back on her knees beside the bed and pressed pads of gauze against his leg to stop the bleeding. She looked up into his face and saw his eyes closed in pain. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

Tears hit the backs of her eyes and she shook her head, looking back at his leg. “God, I’m so sorry.” She repeated in a teary voice.

“Hey.” Dean said as he lifted her chin so she was looking at him again. His thumb brushed away a tear that fell down her cheek. “Sweetheart, it's fine. No need for tears. I’ve survived worse.”

Y/N’s breath stilled in her chest and she whispered quietly. “You’ve never called me that before…sweetheart.”

Dean immediately tried to act casual, but he wasn’t a very good actor. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t, like, freak out about it.”

Y/N nodded and went back to caring for his wound. Once she got the bleeding stopped, she could see it wasn’t very deep. As she cleaned it, she could feel the tension between them rising, like something thick and palpable.

Dean cleared his throat. “Did you, uh…I mean do you want me to call you that? Or, I mean…did you like it?”

Y/N felt her cheeks turn a burning red and she shrugged as she taped a big piece of gauze over the long cut. “I dunno.” Was her only response.

She was finished taking care of him, so she stood up and started to walk away. But Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the back of her t-shirt. He let go as she turned back to face him.

“Why have you been so weird lately?”

Y/N laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Dean stood up and pressed closer to her, slipping his hand around her so that it laid against the small of her back. Her blood pumped hard in her veins and she licked her lips. Dean’s jaw clenched and his eyes fell to her mouth.

“I mean that you’ve been weird with me all week. Ever since I picked you up at school and you got all jealous.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped open before she slammed it shut and spluttered. “Whatever! You wish! Like I care about the dozens of girls you riffle through in every town we stay in.”

Dean moved closer to her and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek and trail his fingers along her jawbone. “I mean…it does actually seem like you care a little bit.”

He walked her backwards a few more steps so that she was pressed up against the wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes roamed over her face and then he looked deeply into her eyes, and his green-eyed gaze made her feel exposed, like he could see into her soul so there was no point in lying to him. He’d always known how she felt. He knew when she was scared, knew when she was annoyed, and when she was furious; he knew her sadness and the loneliness that seized her sometimes.

He always knew, and he always knew just how to make things better for her. She’d already realized that she was actually incredibly attracted to him, but now she realized that he was also her best friend. She felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that sooner. She’d always thought of him as this annoying gnat that wouldn’t leave her alone. But really he was the person who knew her the best, the one she was never afraid to go to for anything, the one she knew would always have her back.

Dean’s breath was soft against her lips as he hovered there. “So, do you care, Y/N? Even a little?”

She could do nothing but nod, and then close the distance between them, pressing her lips against his briefly before pulling back, terrified to see his reaction.

But a wide, slightly goofy smile spread across his face and it made her smile in return. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He said before he planted his mouth over hers and kissed her for real.

She’d never been kissed before, but she’d imagined it many times. This was nothing like she’d imagined. It was much wetter, much hotter, and much more all-consuming than she’d imagined it would be. Her head was swimming, and she felt like she might pass out. He swept his tongue into her mouth and she moaned.

The thought of “french kissing” had always weirded her out a little. Who wanted someone else’s tongue in their mouth? But Dean’s tongue was silky and skillful as he trailed it along the roof of her mouth. It felt possessive and that feeling made her stomach clench in a pleasant and shaky kind of way.

When she reciprocated, slowly allowing her tongue to trail along his, Dean groaned and slipped both his hands down over her hips to press her closer to him. She gasped as she felt his hard on through his jeans, pressing against her lower belly.

Dean pulled his mouth away from her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, before turning his head and pressing soft kisses along her neck.

“Sorry.” He said gruffly. “It’s just…I mean, fuck you’re crazy hot. Sorry.” He said again, but Y/N giggled, more thrilled than she could say at his reaction to her and to their kisses.

“But,” Dean continued, “there’s no rush or anything, no rush to, you know, do anything.” He raised his head to look her in the eye. “I’m just so glad that you're, uh…that you like me, you know…like that. I’ve liked you for so long.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Been wanting to kiss you since we were about eleven years old.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I just realized last week that I wanted to kiss you. How have you known this long, and not tried to kiss me even once?”

Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Never thought you’d want me to, and I wasn't about to try something and weird you out…or make you stay away from me. But then, you seemed so jealous the other day, and the daggers you were shooting at those other chicks gave me some reason to hope. Then you’ve been so weird ever since.”

Y/N snorted. “Whatever, I wasn’t shooting any daggers. I’ve been very cool and collected this whole time.” She lied.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, the gaping wound on my leg says otherwise.”

“Hey, don’t blame me because you lost focus and got yourself hurt.” Y/N said haughtily.

“Lost focus? I did not lose focus. You got all swoony and dropped the damn knife.”

“That’s totally not true. You know you always - “

Suddenly Dean cut her off with another kiss, one that was deep and probing and left Y/N completely senseless.

Dean’s breathing was harsh and shallow too as he rested his forehead on hers and spoke against her lips.

“God, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Kiss me?” Y/N asked, her eyes still closed.

“No. Shut you up.”

It took Y/N a moment to register his words and then her eyes popped open and she saw his wide, mischievous grin and punched his upper arm lightly. “You’re an asshole.”

Dean nodded and yanked her tight against him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

Y/N laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “But let’s just remember who kissed who first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#dean x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #young!dean #dean winchester fluff #spn fan fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #spn fan fic series

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

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In Living Color

Okay, so I've learned that the pic above is actually a stunning piece of digital art by @pompei77-bonny.

Summary: Y/N never knew how much color existed in the world till a green-eyed hunter stumbled into her path.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Implied smut. Kissing. Dean's hands very briefly up a skirt. Dean on a motorcycle. Dean in leather. Dean being an absolute 1950s smoke show! Slight AU!Dean. He's still a hunter, but he's a hunter in the '50s.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 1,436

A/N: So, this challenge by the lovely @impala-dreamer immediately called this scenario to mind.

The amazing Melissa Ethridge song, "I'm the Only One" has always conjured up pure rebellion in my mind. I'm not sure why, maybe it's just the absolute rock goddess purity in Melissa's raspy voice, or the idea in the song of just DESPERATELY needing another person. But it's always made me thing of desperation and rebellion.

Then I combined those ideas with the above picture, 🥵🥵 and just a smidge of the 1950s song, Leader of the Pack. Hence, the story being set in the 50s. (And for those who know it, the ending of this story is different from the ending of that song!) Hope you enjoy! 😊

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

It was a sunshine yellow afternoon in Belmont, Massachusetts, and all around Y/N, the graduating class of 1956 droned on - endlessly discussing the senior prom. Dates, dresses and dancing, it was the same conversation her chorus of followers had been having for the last three months.

And a week ago, she’d been droning right along with them; trying to choose between the pale blue or the pale pink for her dress, between Brett Silverman and Steven Parks for her date, two boys who were basically the pale blue and pale pink of people. They were both bland and respectable, and both destined to inherit their fathers’ businesses. She couldn’t go wrong with either.

Then, her whole world had flipped upside down and she’d been introduced to the color red. Red in the eyes of the vengeful spirit that had attacked her one evening on her way home from cheerleading practice, red in the slashes the ghost had scratched into her cheek, and a red haze of terror as she opened her mouth to scream and no sound came out.

And then came green.

Green like a jewel, like jade, no like an emerald, like soft moss, like lush fields. Green that lit a fire in her belly and an ache in her heart.

He appeared with a gunshot, banishing the spirit with no more than salt, “but not forever”, he’d warned as he grabbed up her hand and tugged her along after him. The moment flew past in a heartbeat, but she could pull apart every second, turn each tiny memory over in her mind.

The vision of him appearing through the smoke of the vanishing ghost, the fierceness in his bright green eyes as he scanned her briefly looking for more injuries, the feel of his fingers grasping hers, rough calluses scratching her pampered skin. She remembered running behind him, blindly trusting him; in a world that was quickly crashing down around her ears, his bulky strength was a haven.

She remembered the smell of leather from his jacket, the spicy scent that hit her when he yanked her against his chest as he hid them around a corner, even the way his hand felt pressed against her lips as he silenced her predicted scream.

The danger had passed, the ghost screeching into oblivion in a flash of orange and yellow flame.

And she’d been left with green.

He didn’t mean to stay, she didn’t expect him to. He’d explained the impossible situation she’d found herself in, promising that his father had banished the ghost for good by burning its bones far away from the school.

Then he’d planned to walk away, but something had called him back, made him linger. Something made him confide in her, and something made her trust him enough to tell him things she’d never told another living soul. It made them ignore the call of their lives and spend a handful of idyllic days together, just learning each other.

Something had connected them from the first moment, and it was something bright and shining that neither of them wanted to let go of, but something they were both terrified was ending.

“My dad’s pissed,” Dean had said the night before, and his green eyes were shadowed with doubt and uncertainty, “he’s waiting for me to meet him tomorrow, I was supposed to be there days ago. My little brother misses me, I need to be there to take care of him.”

He stepped up to her, pressing her against the brick wall of the high school he’d attended for no more than a couple weeks, the high school that, until a few days earlier, had made up the entirety of her whole world. Now the bricks felt cold compared to the warmth emanating from the boy in front of her.

The boy that had so recently become a man, barely eighteen, the boy who was so rash and impulsive, the boy that made her heart race and her blood pump like no one ever had, the boy that made her rethink her entire life.

“I can’t stay, but…” He raised his big palm to her cheek and lowered his lips to hers briefly, gently, before pulling back. “...but come with me.”

She actually laughed, and then wanted to cry when she saw the brief flash of hurt cross his features. She pulled him back to kiss away the wound she’d given him.

“Dean,” she breathed against his lips, “You have no idea how much I want to, but I mean, I can’t, my…my life is here.”

“What life?” Dean asked with a sardonic lift of his brow and Y/N winced at just how close to home that question hit. “Here, is where your father will quickly march you down the aisle, where you’ll be shoved into a mundane life of dishes and diapers, PTA meetings and Tupperware parties.”

He pulled her close again, letting his hands fall to her waist and pushing his knee between her legs, bunching up her belled skirts and crinoline.

“I saved you once, let me save you again - from tedium and predictability. Come with me, ride with me.”

Y/N shook her head. “What about your father? Won’t he be furious that you just hauled someone along with you?”

Dean clenched his jaw, but shrugged. “Too bad. I’ve been my father’s soldier all my life. I deserve something for myself.” His voice dipped low and he nibbled lightly on her earlobe. “And what I want for myself is you.”

Slipping his hands beneath the swishing cotton and tulle of her skirts Dean skimmed his fingers lightly over the damp satin of her panties. And suddenly Y/N’s world was lit up with color as she cried out in surprise and need.

“God, Y/N, I need you so badly.” Dean said, voice muffled against her neck. He kept his hungry mouth and roaming hands on her for a minute more before he broke away from her, putting distance between them and breathing harshly.

“But I’m not gonna be some asshole who just screws you and takes off.” He ran a hand over his face. “So, come with me now, tonight. Let’s figure out our lives out together.”

Y/N felt cold with him stepped away from her and she wished he’d come back. A part of her mind was screaming for her to leap into his arms, but the other part was terrified at all the unknown that lay in that black space between them - and the fear was louder.

So they’d walked away from each other last night, and Y/N knew she would forever remember his crooked smile and the way his teary green eyes made her think of rainy forests..

And now the world around her was dull, like a watercolor painting bleached by the sun, and she didn’t know how to color her world again, but she knew it wasn’t with pale boys and cupcake dresses.

Then suddenly, in the distance, she could hear the dirty brown roar of a motorcycle engine and she jumped up from where she sat on the grass. Fireworks of silver and gold exploded in her mind as Dean skidded to a halt thirty feet away. He sat revving the engine from the parking lot and staring towards her.

She started walking and ended up running. She heard her name being called by the people she used to know, but she never stopped, not until she stood barely a foot from him.

Encased in a black leather jacket and tight black jeans, with thick black boots resting on the rear brake pedal, Dean held out a helmet which Y/N took into her hands; the shiny blue metal was warm from the sun.

He shrugged. “Thought I’d try one more time. I’m stubborn like that.”

His smile was teasing, but there was a hitch in it that made Y/N sure she was doing the right thing as she leapt onto the bike behind him.

“Just don’t let it go to your head that, apparently, I can’t say no to you.”

He turned back to look at her as she clicked the helmet strap under her chin, his grin mischievous and wicked.

“Just wait till we get to the motel tonight, I fully intend to put that trait to good use.”

Y/N laughed breathlessly in anticipation as she wrapped her arms tightly around Dean’s waist as they surged forward. Their future was uncertain, but Y/N was happy to leave black and white behind her and begin to exist in living color.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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#dean x y/n #dean x reader #50s dean #motorcyle!dean #young!dean #dean angst #dean smut #dean fluff

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