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agirlwithdemonblood · 5 months ago

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Stitches of Trust

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After an incident in the woods, Dean is the only one who can save me.

Warnings: Attacked reader, knife, blood and lots of it, stitches, swearing, comfort ❤️

Check out my Masterlist here!

The path beside the bunker was my favorite place to be, the way the sun dipped below the horizon casting long shadows through the trees always calmed me down. It's been a tough week, and this walk was my brief escape from everything I had to deal with.

My feet stopped abruptly when I heard a loud rustle in the bushes. Before I could react, a man stepped out in front of me, eyes cold and menacing. I tried to grab my gun, but it was too late. He rushed forward and pulled me to his chest, knife pressing roughly against my throat.

"Give me everything you got." he hissed.

Panic surged through my veins. My mind raced, but my body was frozen still. When I hesitated, the knife moved down and slashed my side. Pain flared, hot and intense. I gasped and tried to fend him off, to get a head start and run home but his grip on my arm was too strong.

He ripped my bag from my back and shoved me on the ground, another slash landing across my arm. The world blurred as he disappered into the shadows, leaving me there to bleed out.

My hand clutched my side, blood seeping through my fingers, my phone slipping from my pocket. With trembling hands, I tried to call Dean but I couldn't muster up the strength and the phone fell beside me. I reached forward, managing to type out a quick message before the world started to go dark, my eyes shutting heavily. "Help..."

Back at the bunker, Dean heard the faint ping of his phone. He glanced at the screen, his blood turning cold instantly at my message, "Help..."

He stood from his spot as his chest tightened, different scenerios playing through his mind, but he knew he needed to focus, he needed to find me. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door, muttering to himself, "I'm coming sweetheart, hang on."

He drove frantically, scanning the pathway as he called my name but heard no response. Finally after what felt like forever, his headlights caught a figure lying on the path, bright blood all around it causing his heart to nearly stop.

Slamming on the breaks, he quickly kicked the door open and rushed towards me, dropping on his knees beside my lifeless body. "Y/N! He shouted, panic filling his chest at the sight of my blood covered body. "I'm here, it's okay, i've got you."

My eyes fluttered at the sound of his voice, slight relief washing over me but the pain was still overwhelming. "D-Dean... I.."

"Shh, don't talk sweetheart." he spoke urgently, "Your safe now, I gotcha."

His eyes widened at the sight of the wound on my side, blood seeping out into the dirt below me. Without hesitiation, he tore his jacket off and pressed it to my side to stop the bleeding, earning a hiss of pain to fall from my lips. "I'm sorry, just keep breathing, okay? Stay with me."

My breath came in quick, shallow gasps as the attack replayed in my mind, the fear and pain twisting my thoughts like torture. "I-I couldn't stop him, I wasn't quick enough" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Dean's eyes softened with a mix of concern "Hey, look at me" He spoke firm, but with a hint of comfort behind it. "You did everything you could. None of this is your fault."

He took my hand tightly, his touch warm and steady, "We're going to get you through this, just keep your eyes on me alright? Focus on my voice."

Very gently, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the Impala, every step was incruciating, but I trusted him with my life. He drove faster than I've ever seen him drive, face twisted with concern, hand pressing on my wound as much as he could.

When we arrived, he rushed towards the couch and laid me down, apologizing underneath his breath when I groaned in pain. The first aid kit was placed beside me, Dean's shaky hands pulling out the gauze and antiseptic.

I watched with half closed lids as he cleaned and stitched my wounds with practiced skill, he's done it many times for me before but this time his touch was so gentle, his focus unwavering despite the worry etched on his face.

"It's going to be okay." He murmered, more to himself than to me. "You're okay now, your safe."

I couldn't stop the tears that rushed down, a mix of pain and gratitude overwhelming me. He glanced up, eyes wide with panic as he quickly stopped what he was doing. "Shit, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

I shook my head rapidly and grabbed his hand, pulling it to chest for comfort. "Thank you. For saving me, for being here."

He smiled softly, hand tightening on mine, "Don't thank me. I'll always be here for you, you know that right?"

I nodded and relaxed my head on the pillow, wiping the tears that stained my cheeks. As he finished stitching my wound, he cleaned up and bandaged me carefully, pressing a gentle kiss against my head as he stood up to pull a chair beside the couch where I lay.

He stayed by my side, hand gripping mine tightly while I stared at the ceiling, eyes filling with tears.

"I thought I was going to die out there." I looked towards him, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean's expression softened, his hand moving to my forhead to brush the hair from my face. "I won't ever let that happen." He stated, voice thick with emotion. "I'll always come for you, Y/N, always."

I nodded, tears flowing down my cheeks as I bit my lip. "I was so scared."

He leaned forward, thumb brushing away the tears from my cheeks, "I know. But you're safe now. You're here with me."

"Dean.. can you lay with me?" I whispered.

He smiled warmly and nodded, climbing beside me on the couch before opening his arms and hugging me tightly to his chest. His heart was steady and relaxing, a reminder that I was alive and safe.

As I drifted off to sleep, Dean remained by my side, watching over me with fierce determination. In the quiet of the bunker among the shadows and stitches, our friendship turned to love, forced by trust, care and the unspoken promise that we would always find safety and comfort in each other's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Check out my Masterlist here!

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #spn #dean #deanxreader #dean x castiel #dea #deanwinchester

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years ago

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Secure

Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> You meet Peña at a coffee shop but after time passes, he finds out your secret.

Disclaimer: fluff, angst, mentions of guns, mentions of death, illusions to smut, swearing (I think, I haven't proof read this - probably spelling mistakes), spanish is in italics.

You had met Javi one late night in the coffee shop. You were getting the place cleaned up for the morning. Isabella, a regular customer, was sat in the corner with her nose burried deep in her research. The old man who’d you come to know as Pops - a name he told everyone to call him by - was finishing his book closer to the counter. It had been a promise he made to his wife. To read a little, at least, while she was gone. That way they’d have something else to talk about when they met again. Jośe, the young boy who’d run through the door every couple of hours in need of a coffee for his mama and a small cookie for himself, had just left, rushing out of the door going ten miles an hour.

“Good book, pops?” You asked and he looked up and smiled.

“Excellent.”

“Good.” You smiled.

Just as you placed the empty cups from different tables by the counter, the bell above the door rang out. “You open?”

You looked over your shoulder. “Yeah. For a couple minutes.”

“Great.”

He rushed over, you moving the dirty cups from the counter.

“What can I get for you?” You asked in English.

“Coffee. Decaf.”

“Coming up.”

Then it hit him. “How’d you know I was American?”

“What?” You looked to him as you changed the filter. “Oh, uh, just a guess.”

He nodded and looked around, suddenly being met with Pops.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet.”

You smiled and waved to Pops. “Have a good night.”

“Night.”

“Nice Spanish.”

You smiled. “Thanks. I’ve lived here long enough, I should know.”

“I’m Javier, by the way.”

You smiled back and gave him your name which he repeated. It sounded nice.

“So, how long have you lived in Columbia?”

“A couple years. Yourself?”

“Same.”

The conversation ended soon enough when his coffee was paid for - he had something important to get back to.

But the next night, you were closing up again and he came in. In fact, for the following weeks, he came in around the same time every night; just before closing.

He started conversations with Pops who would tell Javier the meaning behind all his books. He actually started taking a couple of night classes at the local college. His wife always told him he needed to socialise more.

She was a people person.

And Javier would sit there and listen. Pops, clearly, was a man who demanded respect with a single look. Something, over the weeks, you realised Peña had, too.

During the week, you had heard rumours about Javier. About his job.

But it was never something you asked him about. You knew more than to ask an American in Columbia if he was working for the government.

But still, he’d come in every day and order a cup of coffee and smoke his cigarette. You’d both talk and eventually, it got to the point where he’d walk you home.

It wasn’t far; maybe a couple of blocks.

You’d tell him why you came to Columbia - your sister. She travelled after college and invited you to join her. But something made you stay.

He ask where you learnt Spanish. You’d tell him school, mostly, but the practice came in while you worked in the coffee shop.

Some days, he’d come in during the day and just talk to you. He’d order a coffee here and there but it mostly remained untouched which wasn’t like him.

Steve had asked questions at work about who Javi was going seeing every day - at first he expected it was to see one of his ‘informants’ but after he began to smell less perfume and more coffee around Peña, it raises his suspicions.

Peña would give a vague answer but when Steve told Connie, she knew instantly.

It wasn’t that a woman’s intuition was lost of Peña, it was just something about Connie that scared him. She seemed to know what he was thinking about whenever she looked at him.

Little did he know, she’d seen him a couple times walk into the same coffee shop and leave with a smile on his face. One Connie nor Steve ever saw on the man’s face.

But surpringly, it took him a while to ask you on a date.

Javier wasn’t one for dating. After all, his job didn’t exactly allow it - especially in Columbia - but Connie (and Pops) thought he would have at least done it sooner. After all, the man came in every day for weeks just to simply spend time with you. He’d walk you home and always made sure you were safe. And god help any man that approached the counter and started flirting with you.

It was like Javier had a radar for those who were flirting with you because each time, not two seconds later, Javier would stroll into the shop and make his way to the counter. Most times, it was like you had a radar for him, too. His coffee would be ready for him to pick up and if the guy wasn’t scared away by the look Peña gave them, he’d order a couple more cups for Steve and Connie (she’d usually come by in the afternoons to check in on him when she had the day off). He’d stay until the guy left and most people who looked away from their books noticed.

And maybe, in truth, you had noticed a little, too. Most guys tended to scarper when Javi walked in. A few of them would even apologise to him and you for thinking differently.

Eventually, when he asked you on a date, you said yes.

He was so nervous. Imagine; Javier Peña, nervous around a woman. Even the heavens wouldn’t believe it.

But he was.

He’d asked after he dropped you off at your apartment. His palms were sweating, his mind was racing, and you were right in front of him.

But the moment you smiled, his nerves eased.

You smiled at him, nodded and said; “I’d love to.”

He smiled back, a little more confident, and before you opened your door, you kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night, hermosa.”

As you closed your door, leaning against it, you smiled but you knew.

You were in deep trouble.

It didn’t take too long before you were both…intimate with one another. Four dates, in fact. It was longer than either of you had presumed but it kinda made sense. Mostly, the dates went as follows:

You’d both ask questions which the other would answer, just simply wanting to know more. Then, you’d take turns picking the restaurant or bar. Next, you’d both head back to the coffee shop - the temp waitress had a family to get back to in the late nights - where you’d wrap your apron around your waist and serve the last couple cups of coffee to the night owls. Finally, Javi would either walk or drive you home (usually walk since he could hold your hand or wrap an arm around your waist) and finally would kiss you goodnight.

It felt different.

You’d gone on dates before but…they didn’t feel like this. Like…it was the first time but it was also the millionth.

It felt…natural.

Homely.

A couple more weeks passed and you’d see Javier at least once a day. He always pop into the cafe to either kiss you good morning (when you hadn’t spent the night together - which was a rareity) or to kiss you goodnight which, you weren’t ashamed to admit would always turn into something more.

One morning, as Javi lay back in bed, the cover draped over his lower half, he watched as you got dressed by the end of the bed.

But that was when he noticed them.

How he hadn’t before shocked him. It was like he studied every inch of you - and not only in the night but that morning too - and yet, how did they slip by him.

“Hermosa?”

You smiled at the nickname before turning to look at him over you shoulder. You just wished you both had the day off.

“The marks…”

It took you a moment to realise what he was talking about. But then it hit you.

A memory you wished to forget.

“They’re just from…” you contemplated telling him.

He’d understand, right? He never confirmed it fully but you knew he worked as DEA. He’d understand carry a couple extra physical scars from a job, right?

“They’re nothing, Javi.”

You heard him shuffle around before you finally felt his hand on your back, tracing them before placing a soft kiss onto a couple, brushing your hair from your shoulders.

You felt yourself melt into him, his other hand now reaching around your stomach to capture the other side of your waist.

Slowly, you both lay back but then you remembered.

You had a job.

Unfortunately.

Javi groaned. He had one, too.

You pressed a few kisses to his lips before he moved from on top of you and headed for the bathroom, him leaving you resting on your forearms with a huge blush across your cheeks.

God, you were falling.

Hard.

It would be a while longer until Javier would find out the truth behind those scars; Find out the story that came with them and you.

And it wasn’t in any way either of you thought it would happen.

4 months later…

The sun was still burning hot over Columbia. Thankfully, however, the humidity was becoming less close and claustrophobic.

Yourself and Javi had been going pretty strong. You had met Steve and Connie - albeit a little surprisingly.

One of your waitresses had cut their hand whilst cutting up some of the breads for lunch later that day. Connie had been passing on the street with Olivia when one of the customers ran out asking for a nurse or doctor.

Connie came rushing inside.

After asking for your first aid kit and a space away from the customers, she handed you Olivia who you stood with in the kitchen as Connie cleaned out the wound and did what was necessary.

“You’re lucky. It doesn’t need stitches. Just keep it wrapped and clean.”

Your waitress, Elena, looked to you confused. You translated in Spanish and she nodded before thanking Connie.

You gave Elena the rest of the day and offered Connie a cup of coffee and some food on the house. She thanked you before sitting down at one of the tables and placing Olivia on her lap.

Yet, by the time you finished up, Javi had come strolling in and was a little shocked to find Connie sat inside.

And, as suspected, Connie was shocked to find Javi there, too. But then it began to make sense.

The smell off the coffee shop - it was Javi.

It was you.

Later that night, after Connie had insisted, you sat down and had a double date with Connie and Steve at a local place.

Steve was glad Peña had finally found someone. As much as he himself had enjoyed the single life, there was just something about being married. About having someone to go to when things got too tough.

And, this was something, if Steve ever said it out loud, Jacier would have to agree with.

Sometimes it was like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. Keeping his mind awake when all it wanted to do was drown in the crime and the cases he delt with on a daily basis.

The last six months, from the moment of meeting, it had felt like bliss.

But sometimes it felt like Javi was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, although you never voiced it, you did, too.

And finally, late one night in the coffee shop, it did.

Javi had worked later than he’d wished to have done. His paperwork had kept him back, making seven typing errors in one sentence.

Most of the time, he wouldn’t bother. But with Messina…everything had to be up to code.

And legible.

But as he walked up the street, he found flashing lights outside your coffee shop, a waitress sat by the ambulance getting patched up and no sign of you.

His heart dropped.

“Peña?”

One of the cops recognised him. “I wasn’t aware we’d called the DEA.”

“You…what happened?”

“Oh, uh, robbery. Or, attempted. Two shooters. One deceased.”

“And the other?”

“Hospital.”

“How?”

“The owner faught. One of them came from the back and sneaked up on her. She said she was fine and needs to go home. We’re gonna bring her in for questioning tomorrow.”

Peña nodded, trying his best to keep a clear mind. So you was okay? Why hadn’t you called him?

As quickly as he could, he ran to his car and sped down the roads towards your apartment. But the closer he seemed to get, the more he began to panic.

You had faught?

It wasn’t that he was surprised but…no, he was surprised. Most people when met with two armed gun men didn’t exactly fight against them. Especially when the only other person in the shop had been knocked clean out and now had a severe concussion.

But you had faught. You had, what? Killed one gun man and injured the other?

This seemed more than just a robbery, to Peña. He didn’t exactly know why. Maybe it was the fact that the toll hadn’t even been touched. Maybe it was the fact that they’d knocked out one of the waitresses. Maybe it was the gun they had been using - Peña saw them as they got taken in for evidence.

This couldn’t have just been a robbery.

Peña didn’t bother knocking. He knew where you kept the spear key and he knew the code.

He shouted your name as he entered, shutting the door behind him. “Honey?!”

Javier had to double back as he passed the enterence to you living room. There you were, sat on the sofa, blood splattered across your body, hair, arms and clothes. You had a first aid kit open in front of you. Javier could see the bloody gauzes in a pile in the table.

“I’m fine-“

He rushed in, pulling you up and hugging you. God, he thought you might have been dead. That the cop had got it wrong and he’d decided to just hear what he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

You were here.

You were alive.

Are.

“Cariño,” Javi’s voice was soft as he took you in. Any anger he had right now could be saved for later. All that mattered was that you was alive.

You pulled back from him to sit back down. You needed to clean the wound.

One of the gun men had got you. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad and since it was night, you got away with telling the cop the stain on your uniform was from the kitchens.

Peña pushed the first aid beside him as he sat on your coffee table, you knees interlocked with his.

“It doesn’t hurt?” He asked you after a couple of minutes. He was shocked. Most men he’d met would be at least grunting in pain by now.

You shook your head.

Something changed in Javi. His back became straighter, his gaze more focused.

“Those scars. How did you get them?”

“Javi.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“They’re nothing-“

“Bullshit.”

You stared him down. He wouldn’t budge.

“How did you fight? Those men. One is dead and the other will probably do so in hospital. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

You bursted. You tried your best to look away as Javi questioned you but when he said your name…

“I was a cop, alright!” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so loud.

Javi just looked at you. You hadn’t told him? Was this how you got the scars?

You sighed as you looked down. Well, it was out in the open now.

“I was a cop, back in the states. FBI.” You explained, your voice a little quieter now. “I had a partner, a couple years back. We had been working on a case for months. Turns out, all the information, all the insider stuff he’d found - it had come from him. He wanted into their circle. The people I had seen die, everyone’s families and children and friends had all died because he was the mole. He would tell the group where to find the families, he’d tell us he knew where the groups would be that night. Then he’d go back and inform them that we were on our way. It as fucked up.”

Javi waited for you to continue.

“Look, I felt something was wrong so I tailed him one night. I put a call in and somehow…he found me one night. He caught be by the shipyard. When my agents finally turned up, I was almost dead. When I woke up in hospital, a guy came in. CIA. I had a bag packed, my life covered up and a plane ticket to wherever I wanted to go.”

“So you came to Columbia?”

“My sister stopped over for three days and I stayed. I don’t know what made me but I did. An agent found me a job at a local place since I wasn’t ready to go into the field or anywhere near it. The job stuck and then I decided to buy the place.”

“And the guys?”

“Local gang, I guess. They look into everyone’s background and they must have thought something was up with mine.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Just that I was American and that I had a dirty secret.”

“They know you were a fed?”

You shook your head. “Probably thought I was an informant or some shit.”

Javier nodded. You could see the worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Javi.”

“You could have told me, you know.”

You looked at him. Maybe. Maybe you could have told him earlier. Maybe you should have told him earlier. But what would that have done? Make him worry more? Make him panic when you were left alone?

You’d been in Columbia a good few years before you met Javi. You were one of the best agents the FBI had in the field and - if you ever wanted it - there was a job waiting for you at the FBI in the states, the CIA or, probably now, the DEA.

You were protected. By your career, by your knowledge, by your skills and by the fact that you entire past had been burried so deep, not even the Pentagon had access to it.

Your gaze was both soft and serious.

“I’m telling you now.”

Over the next hour, Javi went to your bathroom and grabbed a fresh face cloth before getting a bowl of warm water. Sitting back in his place on the table, he held your chin softly, Turing your face so he could wipe away the splats of dried blood.

Once he finished, he placed the cloth down and turned back when he felt your hand grip his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Javi just nodded, interlocking his knees with yours once more. “I get it. I do. I just wish…”

“I know.”

You both shared a look with one another. It didn’t need to be said out loud.

Peña leaned in, and pressed a secure kiss to your lips.

You would be okay.

You are alive.

And, over time, more stories would be revealed. What happened on certain jobs, what scars came from where, what they signified…

But in this moment; it didn’t matter.

All of that could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, he wanted to show you what you meant to him. He’d say the words soon enough, but right now, he just needed to show you.

And you were okay with that.

After all, you felt the exact same way.

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