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ladyofmaidensandwinewrites · 4 years ago

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There’ll Be Peace

For @herstarburststories 1541 followers challenge- congratulations, and I hope you enjoy reading this, because I loved writing it.

My prompt was number 6. “Hush, I know they said the end is near.”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Jack, Cas, Reader

Wordcount: 2,113

Summary: The world is ending, and on their potential last night on Earth, Dean and the reader find closure.

It was one of those nights. Nights you’d had too often for any human being. A last night on Earth. Yeah, you’d heard the speech enough times to have it memorized, and yet, there you were, still alive. Something was different about this one, though. It felt really and truly final. You’d gone over everything you knew countless times, the plan you and Dean, the strategists of the team, had devised, and every time, no matter what you changed, you didn’t see a version where all of you made it out alive.

You had weighed every choice carefully. Who went where, which of you was going to lay down their life first, who deserved to be saved the most. If you had it your way, the others wouldn’t even be coming. Team Free Will, the universe’s last hope. You had to scoff at that- why was it that when the world was ending (again), it always fell on you to fix it?

Your eyes travelled over the figures of your friends. No, your family. You wondered who you’d never see again, which of you would die. You wondered if it was you. You were all gathered in the television room, drinking beers and swapping stories, good memories, hunts gone wrong, trying to laugh and put on a brave face like you weren’t marching to war the next day. Your eyes stopped on Dean.

Dean. Your best friend, your confidante, the man you’d been in love with for years. He was listening to Sam recount a hunt to Cas that they’d gone on when they were younger, and to everyone else he seemed fine, laughing and smiling, but you knew him better. His heart wasn’t in it. Dean always felt the weight of the decisions to be made so heavily. Every life was always in his hands, every mistake his fault. You’d been trying to convince him otherwise as long as you’ve known the man, but it never seemed to stick on nights like that. You would keep trying anyways. You couldn’t live with yourself if he died tomorrow. All of you understood and accepted that there were no more redo’s, no more resurrections. If you died, that was it. Permanent. Dean and you may have agreed on a plan, but you’d long decided on one of your own, and you weren’t letting any of your friends die.

As if he sensed your thoughts, Dean suddenly looked up, green eyes looking at you questioningly. You gave a smile, but he lingered for a moment longer, feeling you out in that uncanny way of his. He nodded subtly at last, but you noticed him looking your way more often. Bless that man, he was checking on you.

You’d all said your goodnights- and your goodbyes- and gone your separate ways. You should’ve been sleeping, but the pit in your stomach left you restless, so you pulled on a red-and-white checkered flannel and socks and boots and made your way quietly outside. There was a place to sit that afforded a brilliant view of the stars, and you tilted your head up to the night sky, too lost in thought to truly appreciate what could be the last time you saw such constellations.

“Hey.” His voice was low and gruff and settled in a soothing way that warmed you to your bones despite the chill in the air. “Did I wake you?” “Nah. Wasn’t sleepin’, figured you’d be out here.” Dean shrugged, sitting beside you closer than usual. He loosed a long and weary breath, and you glanced his way. His brow was furrowed, lips pursed slightly, eyes on the sky as he searched for the right words to say. “I-” You spoke at the same time, laughing slightly and pausing. “Go ahead.” You smiled. “I don’t know what tomorrow is gonna look like, Y/N. I mean-” he laughed wryly a moment, “fighting God? Not exactly optimistic about our odds here.” He stopped again, but you waited patiently. He wasn’t a man of many words, but everything he said was chosen carefully. “Look, we’re a team, right? And that plan was mostly your idea. And I know, I sound like a dick, but- I wish you wouldn’t go. I don’t- I don’t want you to be there when something goes wrong, Y/N.” Dean swallowed.

“Dean. You think I want any of you walking into this? Sam has been sure this will work, but you and I… we both know we’re not all coming back home this time. I want to ask you to stay, for my own selfish reasons. But we have a job to do.” You replied, eyes sad. He nodded solemnly, and as those beautiful green eyes met yours, you felt a million missed opportunities flash before your eyes. All those years and you’d never told him. “We pull this off, you think the world is gonna be different?” You asked, leaning into him as his arm went over your shoulders. “I hope so. Imagine; a world without monsters.” He chuckled. “Sounds too good to be true.” “What are you gonna miss the most?” “What, about hunting?” “The way things are. I know we’re not supposed to talk about what happens if this is it, but… I’m going to be thinking about it all night anyways.” “Me too. I dunno. Driving in Baby all over the country. Pissing off Sam. Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’ll miss Cas zapping in randomly. Jack’s candy binges. Nights like this with you. Y’know, when it’s not the end of the world.” He joked. “What about you?” He asked, looking down at you with more warmth than you’d seen from him in a long time. “The excitement. I’ll miss the adrenaline rush of decapitating vampires. Teaching Cas and Jack board games. Researching with Sam.” “What, not gonna miss me?” He was joking, but there was something in his eyes that told you he needed to hear more than teasing.

“There are too many moments I’ll miss with you to pick one.” You told him. It was the most honest you’d allowed yourself to be in a while, and his expression changed. Sadness, pain, regret- all of it there in the stern slope of his brow, the tightness of his jaw. But you’d always been a believer that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Dean’s had to be the most expressive and beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He looked at you the way artists looked at their muses, like poets to blank pages and ink, pioneers and conquerors to vast, untouched lands. Looked at you saw all the great perhaps’ and endless maybe’s he’d let pass by, undiscovered and unrevealed. You were his Magnum Opus, the greatest masterpiece of his life, his proudest achievement, just having you by his side and loving you in the deep but quiet way of his was worth more than all the things he’d done. “Y/N, I-” “Hush, I know they said the end is near, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.” You interrupted. He swallowed hard, green eyes glossy. Dean nodded. “Ok. Ok, no goodbyes.” He agreed. You were both silent, Dean pulling you into his chest and holding you tight, like you might vanish before his eyes. You gripped at the cloth of his canvas jacket, breathing him in, that scent of motor oil, whiskey, and gunpowder that was as much a home to you as the man himself.

“I’ll miss long drives with you and the same cassettes over and over, music so loud we can’t even hear Baby’s engine,” you began, heart pulled in two directions in a war of both wanting and not wanting to say all the things you should’ve said years ago, “and shady motels and sometimes sharing a bed because it’s easier and we sleep better that way.” Dean was holding to your every word. “And I’ll miss getting pissed at pubs, or just having a glass or two to celebrate or numb it after a hunt. I’ll miss how you check on me every night and I pretend to be asleep so you don’t spook. I’ll miss your jokes, even the terrible ones that are so bloody awful I have to laugh.” You paused and laughed slightly at that. “I’ll miss your hugs, and stealing your flannels, and staying up all night to watch westerns with you, and I’ll miss hunting with you and feeling safe because I know you have my back,” you exhaled shakily, wetting Dean’s jacket with tears, “but most of all I’ll miss those moments when you’re next to me and the world goes quiet and calm, and even when everything else is chaos, just having you there is more than enough to keep going for me. I’ll miss the way you feel like home.”

Your heart was pounding- he was quiet, and without being able to see his face, you had no idea what was going through his head. Dean pulled back, though his hands still curled into your shirt. You were trying to read him, anxiety settling like a weight on your chest, and then he smiled. Another thing you’d miss, that charming, sincere, toothy smile of his. His face got serious again, the bright smile fading, but his eyes didn’t dim even a fraction, still warm and filled with something that looked like hope. One of his calloused hands cupped your cheek, and he leaned in slowly, like you were a wild animal he was afraid to startle. Your world simultaneously imploded and came together to a single focal point when his lips met yours. It wasn’t fireworks, there weren’t swooping butterflies in your stomach, it wasn’t the exciting freshly minted feeling of a first kiss, even though it was the first time he’d kissed you. You’d known him a long time, loved him even longer, and kissing Dean was familiar in an intimate way, like opening the well-worn cover of a beloved book, something that felt right, whole, a warmth that went all the way to your soul and the marrow of your bones. You knew him, you knew him in every way possible, and kissing him was like remembering every moment you’d spent together before, all those quiet moments when he was your anchor, the laughter shared, the times when he said everything without saying anything at all. Kissing Dean Winchester wasn’t a thrilling ride or an adrenaline rush. Kissing Dean Winchester was a homecoming that had been long delayed.

Dean rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and one hand still on your cheek. “You said no goodbyes.” He murmured. “I know. I just needed you to know.” “I already know, Y/N. All my life, home has been something I carry with me. Didn’t bother making one ‘sides in Baby until the Bunker. You are home, Y/N. The only steady thing in my life, even when Sam is gone, you’re still here, and damn if I haven’t tried to make you leave.” He said with a wry smile. He’d tried his usual methods of acting like a massive douche to get you to go, but unluckily for him, you were stubborn as hell and refused to leave until he was honest with you. “You make me feel normal. I’m not gonna say I’ll miss that, ‘cause you an’ me are gonna be right back here tomorrow night. I will say I’m pissed at myself for not saying anything sooner.” Dean muttered. “You did. We didn’t need words for it.” You smiled. If you didn’t make it out alive, you hoped the last thing you remembered would be his soft smile. Dean kissed you again, tasting like whiskey, not that you minded.

The Bunker was quiet when the two of you made your way inside. Dean held your hand and led you to his room, shedding his jacket while you draped your flannel over a chair and kicked off your boots. His bed was far more comfortable than yours, but you weren’t sure if it was the memory foam or Dean himself. He pulled you into his arms, resting his head in the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke, but you didn’t have to. There were a few things in life you’d always known to be true. 1. Your gut is never wrong. 2. Those who seek trouble will find it. Number 3. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole. But two new truths formed at the exact same time- 4. Dean Winchester loved you. Dean Winchester was in love with you, and you loved him, too.

And Number 5.

None of you were dying tomorrow.

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@justagirlinafandomworld

Dean Babes-

@herstarburststories

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ladyofmaidensandwinewrites · 4 years ago

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Just One Dance

Requested by @rileynicole1967

Request: “so maybe you could do a one shot for deanxreader based off the song “can I have this dance” from High School Musical. so basically dean doesn’t do the whole dancing thing and the reader finally gets him to dance with her and she helps him and it’s so fluffy”

Absolutely, luv! Side bar, I’ve never seen these movies, but I gave the song a listen. Hopefully this is just as fluffy as you were wanting!

Characters: Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Excessive fluff, implied smut without detail.

Wordcount: 2,852

There are some things a hunter doesn’t get, and a normal, carefree night on the town is one of them. At least, it usually is. This particular Saturday you have no monsters to kill, no wounds to mend, and no research demanding to be done, and you practically beg Sam and Dean to come with you to a local pub promising good music, food, and beer.

Maybe it’s slightly overdone, but you rarely have any occasion to dress so nicely, and as you look at your reflection, you have to smile. You admit to yourself you look beautiful, outfit the perfect color to compliment your complexion and your eyes, and comfortable so you have no qualms about dancing the night away, which you have every intention to do.

You open the door to your room in the bunker, right across from Dean’s, and hear a low whistle that causes your cheeks to heat slightly. “I feel underdressed, sweetheart. You look gorgeous.” Dean says with that easy, charming smile. The bastard has you positively whipped, and he doesn’t even know it. “Well, one of us has to look good.” You tease, brushing off the compliment in favour of poking fun at your best friend. He chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly. “Yeah, whatever. C’mon, let’s get Sammy’s ugly mug and hit the road before all the good parking is gone.” Dean beckons. The casual way he rests his hand on your back has your heart doing acrobatics, and you thank whatever God is listening for the years spent mastering your perfect poker face when you show no outward reaction.

You’re not a bird that hangs off the arm of the first handsome man she sees. In fact, you have a sense of pride in the way you don’t fall for charm or suave lines and you’ve never been the type to go for a one-night-stand just because someone buys you a drink and throws you a smirk. Dean Winchester is the only exception to your impervious shield- a simple smile from him has you feeling faint, and it’s not just his looks that have made you fall for him. Dean has been your friend and confidante. He knows things about you not another soul is privy to, and the same applies to you. He protects you, but doesn’t underestimate your skill and ability as a hunter. He’s your hero, and if you had a bit more gall, maybe you’d finally tell him that.

It’s a perfect night at the pub- not too crowded, but with enough background chatter to make an ambience like home. The first round is on you, as you’ve promised, and Dean watches you carefully as you head to the counter to order your drinks. Sam sits across from him, a smug and knowing smile on his face. “What?” Dean finally grumbles, raising a brow. Sam shrugs, but that grin only gets wider, Dean’s green eyes narrowing in annoyance. “It’s just funny,” Sam begins, fighting to maintain a nonchalant front while wanting to laugh at Dean, “you sitting here, watching her, Y/N standing there, looking back at you. Cute.” “Sam.” Dean says, tone sharp with a warning Sam promptly ignores. “Hey, if you have any plausible reasoning for me to believe you’re not smitten with her, now’s your chance to convince me.” Sam invites. Dean glowers at him from across the table, wishing you’d hurry up with those beers already, and Sam smirks, knowing he’s won. “That’s what I thought. Want my advice?” “Not really.” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes. God, where are you with the drinks, somebody save him. “Well, I’m gonna give it to you anyways. Stop being such a dumbass and go get your girl. At this point I won’t even complain if you snog her in front of me. Point is, Dean, you’ve got no rationale to not go after her.” Sam says pointedly. “I think you oughta just-”

“Hey, sorry I took so bloody long!” You call, hurrying over with four longnecks in your hands, and Dean shoots Sam a smirk. Perfect timing as usual, thank God. “S’alright. Didn’t miss much.” Dean shrugs, sliding over so you can sit next to him in the booth. “Oh, good. I put in some song requests- DJ says this place is great for dancing.” You inform, smiling brightly. Dean instantly shoots upright, cutting you a narrow-eyed look full of suspicion. “Dancing?” He repeats, already smelling a scheme as you give him an innocent smile. “Wouldn’t you know it, this pub happens to be known ‘round here for the music? Coincidence, of course.” You say slyly. Dean shakes his head, unable to maintain his glare so he hides the smile pulling at his lips by taking a swig of his cold beer. “Coincidence. Yeah, ok. Y/N, for someone who lies for a living, you’re pretty shit at it.” Dean smirks, and you laugh, knowing he’s teasing. “Alright, so maybe I had a slight ulterior motive when I said we should come here tonight, but I promise it’ll be fun!” You say pleadingly, turning to Sam for back up.

“Don’t look at me! You’re on your own.” Sam proclaims, holding up his hands in surrender as you huff. “Fine! But you’re both dancing with me. I’m not settling for a ‘no’.” You assert. Dean chuckles, giving you an amused smile. “You can think that if you want, sweetheart. I don’t dance.” He says firmly. “What do you mean? You dance with me to your bloody cassettes in the garage all the time!” You demand, raising your brows. Sam laughs, nearly snorting beer out of his nose, and Dean flushes up to his ears. “Dean dances with you?” “Sam!” Dean growls, thoroughly embarrassed. “Oh, come off it, it’s not a big deal, you baby.” You scowl playfully. “No, Y/N, Dean doesn’t dance, ever. Makes you awfully special, huh, Dean?” “Shut your mouth, Sam.” Dean snaps, glaring at his brother indignantly. You’re at a loss, looking between the two in confusion. “Look, Y/N, you’ll have to settle for the less good-looking Winchester tonight. I don’t dance, ‘specially not here.” Dean says with a shrug of his broad shoulders. You smile, a mischievous look in your eyes, and he knows you’re nowhere near dropping the subject.

Three beers later, you’re out on the dancefloor, laughing at Sam’s awkward moves. Dean’s smiling, eyes glued to you. It’s rare he see’s you this happy and carefree, and you look so beautiful in the low light of the bar. The power could go out and your smile would light up the whole place. He hates admitting it, but Sam makes a valid point. There’s nothing stopping Dean from telling you how he feels about you besides his own paranoia, and even that is n shaky grounds. He’s not entirely oblivious. Dean knows there’s some unspoken thing between the two of you, and knows you feel it, too. But letting it lie as is and pursuing something more are two totally opposing ideas, and he’s getting tired of his head and his heart pulling him in different directions over you.

You catch Dean’s eye, and leave Sam, grinning at Dean. “Come dance.” You say. He shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “Told you, sweetheart. I don’t dance.” Dean claims, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the booth. He’s content where he is, just watching you, but you’re the most stubborn woman he’s ever met, and honestly, he should’ve known better because when do you ever take no for an answer? “Just one dance. Come on, even Sam is having fun.” You try to persuade him, Dean’s eyes flicking to his brother and back to you. “Y/N.” “Dean.” You mimic. You stare him down, eyes narrowed slightly. Dean almost laughs- he’s seen this face before, your shoulders back and spine tall. It’s the posture of a hunter, the determined face you make when you’re dealing with police giving you a hard time or a monster making threats. Now you’re using against your best friend to try and convince him to dance with you. “Please.” You pout, and he sighs. God, why are you so hard to say no to?

It’s a silly question because he knows exactly why you could ask for the moon wrapped in a bow and by God, he’d figure out how to give it to you because you have Dean Winchester completely at your mercy. “Dean, please, just one dance! That’s all I’m asking.” You practically beg, and he can feel himself breaking. “Sweetheart, I really don’t dance, not for anybody.” Dean tries. “Not even for me?” You ask him. Damn it. Damn you to hell, you’re good. That’s his weakness, you’re his weakness, and you’re using it to play him like a fiddle. Dean closes his eyes and his shoulders slump, and when he looks at you again, you’re beaming like you won the grand prize because you know you’ve got him. “One dance. Got it? Just one. And- and don’t expect no fancy shit, or nothin’.” He huffs, trying to maintain his grumpy facade. He doesn’t last a second because your mile-wide smile is even bigger as you take him by the hands and half-lead half-drag Dean onto the dancefloor.

Dean’s nervous as all-get-out. When was the last time he’s ever really danced, much less in front of people? “Just take my hand, Dean. C’mon, you killed three vampires just the other day and you’re telling me you’re nervous now?” You say, teasing him gently. “Yeah, well, vamps I can behead.” Dean mutters, earning a snort of laughter from you that makes his lips twitch up into a smile. “Just look at me, yeah? Just like in the garage.” You tell him. He nods, swallowing, and keeps his eyes locked on you, which really isn’t hard to do. Just as he eases into it, the faster-paced song transitions to a slow-dance, and he freezes, instantly panicking.

You squeeze Dean’s hand comfortingly. “Dean, we can sit down, I’m only kidding, I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable.” You explain with a guilty frown. Here you are, trying to get the boys to relax, and instead poor Dean is looking at you like someone told him his impala is being towed. Dean stops you, shaking his head. “No. No, just, uh, don’t laugh at me. I haven’t done this in… well, ever.” He says gruffly. You smile fondly. Your knight in shining plaid is nervous you’ll tease him for being a clumsy dancer. “Promise I won’t laugh. Well, maybe a little.” You say, and Dean shoots you a glare that vanishes when you give him a cheesy grin. “You’re a dork.” He smirks. “Takes one to know one, Winchester.” You wink.

“Dean, you’re stepping on me.” You tell him, biting your lip to stifle a laugh at the instant mortification on Dean’s face. “Shit, sorry!” “S’okay. You’re doing great. You are one in a million, Dean. Big, bad hunter, scared to dance with me.” You laugh softly. Dean huffs, and you smile. He’s slowly getting the hang of it, with your help, of course.

“Hey, what was Sam talking about earlier?” You ask. Dean falters, and you nearly trip, stumbling into his chest. You don’t know if you’re really standing still or if it only feels like time has halted, Dean’s green eyes staring into you.

His eyes drop to your lips. You’re not sure you’re breathing.

“Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Dean says after a long moment. His eyes dart away, and you frown slightly. “That’s not what I asked you.” “Y/N.” He says intently, hoping you’ll drop the subject, because the direction the conversation is going, Dean is going to be forced to make the decision he’s been putting off for so many years. “Dean.” You echo, just as firmly, not letting him escape your gaze. Dean steps back slightly, and you realize the song is over. You let go of Dean’s hands, disappointment and embarrassment washing over you. “Thanks for the dance.” You say, trying to hide your sadness.

You make it all of three steps before Dean reaches out for you. “Hey, Y/N, wait.” He says quickly, hand grabbing yours. “What?” ��Can I have this dance?” “You don’t dance.” You say, confused. He looks at you for a long moment, a smile slowly forming on his face. “No,” Dean agrees, holding your gaze with his, “but you do. So?” “So what?” “So, can I have this dance?” Dean repeats. You nod, and he leads you back out. It’s another slow song, and Dean pulls you a little closer than before, staring at you intensely.

“What?” You ask, quirking a brow. “Can I ask you something?” “Ok?” You agree hesitantly. “Why do you always sit next to me in the booths?” Dean asks. You swear you can your heart plummet like a lead weight. “What?” “Yeah. How come you always share with me when we have to bunk up because there’s only two beds in motels? And how come you wanted to dance with me so bad?” He presses. “I- well, I-” You stammer, absolutely thrown for a loop, and he smiles briefly. “See, ‘cause, I’ve got this theory that the answer to that is sorta like the answer to the question you asked me earlier.” He continues, confusion and dread creeping up on you. “Dean, listen, we don’t have to talk about it-” “I think we do. I want to. Here’s the thing, Y/N. I don’t dance.” “Then why are you-?” You trail off. “Because you asked me to. And I can’t say no to you. What Sam said, earlier- you are.” He says, ducking his head. “I am what?” You frown. “Awfully special. To- to me.” Dean says quietly, blushing, and suddenly it makes sense. “Oh.” “Oh? That’s all you’re gonna say? I tell you I have feelings for you, and all I get is ‘oh’?” Dean asks, blinking in disbelief. He looks like he’s about to bolt, so you lean up and before he can make another smartass comment, you press your lips softly to his.

“Oh.” Dean breathes, staring at you. You smile, and he grins, and both of you laugh, not caring if anyone is looking. “Man, we’re a couple’a real idiots, huh?” Dean chuckles. “If I knew this is how it would end up, I would’ve asked you to dance with me a long time ago.” You tease, earning yourself another brief kiss. “I’ll dance with you all you want, sweetheart.” Dean says with a warmth in his eyes you’ve seen a thousand times before but never knew the reasoning for. You laugh as Dean twirls you, ducking under his arm with a bright smile he can’t help but return.

At some point you vaguely recall Dean promising to show you the rest of his dance moves in private, and you stealing the keys to Baby from his back pocket. You’re not sure how you managed to make it safely back to the bunker, and you definitely forgot to bring Sam, but you and Dean had spent years pining after one another and weren’t about to waste another night.

You smile, looking over your shoulder to find a familiar freckled and scruffy face pressed against your pillow. Dean’s still asleep, his arm a solid and warm weight over your bare waist, his chest firm against your back. His dark blond hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, and you don’t want to know how your own hair looks, but you really don’t even care. You scramble for the sheets as the door knob turns. Sam gives you the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen, and the urge to fling a shoe at him is strong. “Y’know, when I told you to do something about your puppy love for Dean, I didn’t exactly mean ditch me at the pub to go sleep with him.” Sam says with a wiggle of his brows. Your face feels hot. “Sam.” You whisper warningly. “I told you he liked you.” Sam says. “Go. Away.” You whisper, glaring. Sam snickers. “You owe me, Y/N, we shook on it.” “As I recall, you said he wouldn’t dance with me, so you pay up, Sam.” You retort. Sam scoffs, and you glare even harder. “Sammy, shut up and leave us alone.” Dean’s sleepy voice grumbles, his eyes not even open as he blindly flips his brother off. Dean waits for the door to close and Sam’s footsteps to retreat down the hall before he finally looks at you.

“Jesus, thought he’d never leave.” Dean mutters. You grin, and Dean gives you a devious smirk, planting a kiss on your neck. “Dean!” You laugh. “Who says I was done with you? Sam can handle a few hours without us, and I’ve got you all to myself.” Dean says, and you don’t bother pretending to be mad when his lips meet yours, feeling him smile.

Who knew all it would take to finally get you and Dean together was one dance?

TAGS-

Forever Tags-

@justagirlinafandomworld

Dean Babes-

@herstarburststories

SPN Pond-

@spnfanficpond

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