#Dean Winchester Angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gublernatural · 3 days ago

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In Another Life 𖥔 Dean Winchester

✶ SUMMARY: It's hard to regret getting captured by a Djinn when it makes your wishes come true in the real world, too.

✶ WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut (piv), slow burn, mutual pining, she's long as fuck (6.8k words), heated make out, fingering, allusion to suicide (to end the djinn), reader is injured, supernatural-esque violence, alcohol, jess is mentioned, reader is bad at pool and likes baseball, mention of a period in passing, showering together MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✶ NOTE: I'M BACK BABY!!! dividers from @firefly-graphics!!

˚꒰ა .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ ࣪˖ 𓂃 ࣪˖ 𖥔. ໒꒱˚

Everything looked familiar. The dingy yellow paint on the motel room wall was what you thought was the last thing you'd seen before you closed your eyes. The room still smelled like nicotine and there was still a squeaky noise coming from where the gasket on the window was damaged. Things seemed normal. There was nothing that you could tell was out of place from where you’d awoken.

Except, something felt different.

There was an unfamiliar warmth. It was coming from your left side, but it was also coming from inside your chest. Something inside you felt lighter; less like the weight of the world was no longer on top of you. You raised your head slightly, just to look over to see what was pressed against your side. You tried to move with a practiced ease, as if you were trying not to alert a monster creeping in the night.

Except, it wasn’t night and there was no monster. It was just Dean. Laying beside you, fast asleep.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” You gasped, scrambling as far away from him as you could get in the queen-sized bed. Dean was easily awoken by your outburst. He moved gently, bringing his hands up to rub his face, before turning to you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes filled with nothing but concern. Your brows furrowed, trying to figure out what you were looking at. It was definitely Dean. Definitely your Dean. But something about his was different. He was relaxed? Calm? Peaceful? You weren’t entirely sure what the correct word was.

When you didn’t answer him, Dean moved closer to you, trapping you between his body and the wall. One of his hands moved to your face, cradling your cheek. “What happened?” He asked, again. “Nothing,” You informed, turning into putty in his hands. Dean used this hand to pull you closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Guess we should hit the road, since you’re up,” Dean said. He sighed like an old man when he moved to push himself off the bed. “Sammy’s gone, wanna shower?” Definitely my Dean, you thought when you saw the shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “I’m good,” You shrugged. When his own face twisted up in confusion, you quickly came up with a lie, “Time of the month, and all that.” Dean nodded, heading towards the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, your hunter instincts took over. You moved with a desperate urgency, pulling out every dresser drawer, stifling through every item inside of them, checking under sheets and mattresses, checking the search history on the laptop on the table, flipping through each and every book.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sam’s voice broke your focus. You quickly snapped around, immediately pausing your movements. “Looking for something?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at you. You were sure you looked guilty, with your hands tucked behind your back and your incredibly straight posture. “N-no,” You stuttered, trying to relax. You slowly made your way back to the bed, relaxing into it as much as possible. Sam’s questioning eyes followed you the entire time.

“What are we doing here?” You asked Sam. You remembered why you were in this town. Sam had seen disappearing girls in the local paper, something suspicious about them. You were here to kick the monster’s ass. That much you knew for sure. Sam let out a chuckle, “We’ve been on a road trip for a few weeks now.” Sam informed, pointing to the map on the table, “You don’t remember?” His voice shifted into a calmer tone, full of concern.

“No, no, I do. I was just making sure,” You tried to play it off. Luckily, Sam did not have too much time to question you, as the bathroom door opened and Dean emerged.

“Next stop, the world’s largest basket in Frazeysburg, Ohio!” Dean cheered, coming to stand next to you, and resting his hand on the base of your neck. “Definitely not the world’s largest,” Sam corrected. Dean mumbled an “oh, whatever,” before moving to throw his things in his duffel bag. His duffel bag that was usually filled with guns, knives, salt. The essentials.

“We’re going to pick up Jess,” Sam clarified, circling back to your confusion, “her graduation is in a week, and then we’re moving closer to you and Dean.”

You knew this was an attempt to clear things up for you, but it just furthered your confusion. Jess was dead. Jess was dead before you met the Winchesters. What the fuck was going on?

You turned your head back to Dean, watching him start to add your things into his duffel bag. “Hey,” you chastised, pulling a pair of slightly racy underwear from his hand, “those are mine.” Dean turned to look at you, a smirk spread across his face, “What’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” He turned back to the bag, just for a second, before throwing you a quick wink, “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”

You weren’t sure if you were more shocked when Dean asked if you wanted to drive, or when Sam willingly slid into the back seat. Dean’s hand was resting on your knee, his thumb rubbing sweet circles into the denim of your jeans. There was a soft rock song playing on the radio, and Dean was lightly singing along to it. The air outside was fresh, the sun was shining, and there was a slight breeze flowing through baby’s open windows. Even Sam wasn’t complaining about how loud the music was.

Everything was truly perfect. Too perfect.

As much as you wanted to lean into Dean’s touch, to allow him to hold you each night like had last night, to let him press kiss sweet kisses against your forehead and throw dirty jokes at you, you knew that you couldn’t. You knew something was wrong. Life as a hunter never worked out like that for you. If something felt right, you knew that there was something wrong.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t going to figure out what it was.

Maybe you’d let yourself enjoy Dean’s attention while you did it. Maybe.

Baby let out a soft hum as you approached the basket. It was very large, you couldn’t deny that. Dean came around to the passenger side, sliding his hand into yours. There was what should’ve been a comfortable silence that had fallen over the three of you, but something in your stomach wasn’t letting you relax. Hunter’s instinct, as you used to tell the boys. You wished you could talk to them. The real them. Not whatever these imposters were.

“You alright?” Dean asked, moving his hand to your waist. “What are we, Dean?” You asked. He stopped his steps, letting Sam trail ahead. “You’re my girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Your eyes widened before your face, once again, twisted up in confusion. “You’re my girlfriend,” Dean repeated, matching your facial expression, “You’ve been my girlfriend for about four years now. Are you okay?” He questioned, again. His hand moved up to rest against your forehead, checking for a temperature.

You pushed his hand away, trying to think this through. Four years. That has to be significant. What were you doing four years ago?

Hunting. You’d been hunting your whole life, so of course you were hunting. You tried to think of any notable hunts that occurred four years ago. It was hard to put them chronologically. They all got blurred together after a while, and you could only really see the faces of the people you’d saved, the families you’d brought back together.

Then it clicked. Four years ago, you were hunting the largest vampire nest you’d ever seen. It was located on the border of Minneapolis and Saint Paul, taking victims from both cities. You knew you were in over your head when you went in, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Especially when you ended up having the best backup you’d ever gotten while on a case. Not only were they two very efficient hunters, but they were also particularly easy on the eyes. You should’ve probably hesitated before letting the shorter one with a pretty smile into your motel room to see what you’d pieced together, but something in your gut told you to trust him. So you did, and you still do.

“Dean,” You sighed out, “how did we meet?” His signature smile spread across his face as he stepped closer to you, swinging a careful arm around your neck. “Need a reminder of why you fell in love with me, sweetheart?” You nodded, encouraging him to get on with it. “At some bar, just between the Twin Cities. You had some girlie drink in your hand and were dressed up all pretty, but cussing like a sailor at a baseball game on TV. Drew me right in. It didn’t take very long for you to like me back. Sam was upset we were holding up his tour of the city with Jess, but he got over it once he realized I really liked ya” Dean reminisced.

Fuck, you thought. You had always wished you met Sam and Dean differently. You’d wished you met in a bar and Dean chatted you up. That Sam took you in like a little sister. But, that’s not how it went. You knew that. In your reality, life was shitty and Dean usually slept on the shitty motel couch, not next to you, even if he wished he could. So, you also knew you had to fix it. You had to get home.

You excused yourself from the boys and the very large basket to head back to the car. You rummaged through it, hoping to find something from your reality. A knife, a gun, something you could use to end this perfect nightmare. You found a small little switchblade in the trunk. It was not going to be easy, and it was going to hurt like a bitch, but you needed to get home. You needed to be with your real Dean so you could help him kill this Djinn.

Your wrists fucking burned. It was like your whole body was tense, but your wrists were on fire. “You got her?” You heard a deep voice call towards you. There was no response but you felt your body jostle. You were pressed against something warm. Not the kind of unsettling warmth you felt when you woke up in the dingy motel room. The kind of warmth that smelled slightly of whiskey and home. The kind of warmth that only came from Dean. Your Dean. Your real Dean.

“Dean?” You mumbled softly. You felt his grip on your body get tighter, holding you closer. “I got you, sweetheart. Just hold on for me.” You tried to nod, but weren’t sure if your head actually moved.

The next time you woke up, you were once again met with the dingy, yellow motel wallpaper. Only this time, you didn’t scramble to get away from the presence next to you. In fact, you shifted your body slightly closer to it.

You curled into a fetal position next to where Dean was sitting on the side of the bed. Your head shifted so you could look at him. His eyes were wide as he turned around with a breathy release of your name, “fuck,” he mumbled once he saw how frail you looked. He didn’t say anything else. He just reached out to rest his hand on your side. It didn’t take long for him to start rubbing it along the expanse of your torso, trying to push away any pain you were feeling. There weren’t many cuts or bruises that littered your skin, but he knew how weak Djinns can make you feel.

“Can I do anything for you?” He prompted, breaking the silence after a few minutes. You shook your head no, just wanting to go back to sleep. “Sammy went to get food,” he informed, “asked him to stop and get you your favorite.” You didn’t have to say anything for Dean to understand that you weren’t going to eat it. The gesture was nice, though.

The sun was casting through the broken blinds the next time you woke up. You were surprised that you had managed to sleep through most of the night. Your body really did need to rest, you guessed.

“How you feeling?” Sam asked once he realized you were awake. You moved to sit crisscross on the end of the bed, so that you would be facing where he was sitting at the motel table. “Better than yesterday, but my head still hurts.” He didn’t respond, just nodded and turned back to whatever he was reading on his laptop. It took you a while, but eventually, you mustered up the courage to stand up and head to the shower. Dean was still asleep on the other motel bed. His hands were stuffed under his pillow, protectively placed near some kind of weapon, and his breaths were even and relaxed. You smiled at him as you grabbed clothes and headed into the bathroom.

The hot water felt heavenly cascading down your body. You deflated like a balloon, each muscle relaxing from the top down. Your shoulders, then your back, then your thighs, then your calves. You were probably in the shower for a good 45 minutes to an hour, allowing your body to release any leftover adrenaline. It was the most relaxed you’d been in a long time.

It wasn’t until about the thirty-minute mark that you started reflecting on what you had been through. You still weren’t sure how Sam and Dean had found you, but you were grateful they did. Fortunately, being unconscious allowed your body to heal up quickly. Unfortunately, living the life you’d been dreaming of had fucked you up emotionally. You tried not to allow yourself to think about it. It would be easier to bury all of the undiscussed emotions , unasked questions, and unreciprocated feelings into a deep pit with all of the other fucked up stuff that was easier to put off than it was to walk out and face it. You didn’t want to think about holding Dean’s hand as you walked to unusual landmarks or him pressing his lips against your forehead after he thought you’d had a nightmare. It would never be your reality, so there was no sense in dwelling on what could’ve been.

There were a few knocks on the door, “You alright in there? There’s no way there’s still hot water coming out.” Dean’s voiced was muffled by the door. “Coming!” You called back to him, suddenly realizing how long it’d been. The water still felt fine, though.

You hurriedly stepped out, dried yourself off, and threw on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. You’d get dressed for the day once you were in the main room, as the steam in the bathroom makes the clothes stick to you.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked as you emerged from the bathroom. You missed the way his eyes sparkled once he finally got a look you standing up and healthy. “Like I wish people would stop asking me that,” You complained. After a beat of silenced passed, you added, “And hungry.” Dean let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, Sam ran to the diner down the road real fast.” You nodded, reaching to pull out your laptop. You had to stay busy, it kept your mind off of things you didn’t want to be thinking about.

“Slow down, road runner,” Dean encouraged, moving to sit next to you. You shrugged at him. He continued to chastise you, “You need to heal up, we can take a day or two off.” If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be telling you this. He and Sam never slowed down. They hunted, they got injured, they went on another hunt, and they got injured again. “I’m not a child, Dean. I’m not even hurt, I can hunt.” Dean didn’t respond, instead, he pressed his hand against the back of your laptop, pushing it shut.

“I know what it’s like,” He practically cooed. You tried to ignore the way your heart jumped at his gentle voice. “Your wish had come true, and then it was ripped away from you. That’s not something you heal from overnight.” You didn’t realize you’d been avoiding eye contact with him until this moment. His face had a foreign softness too it, one you didn’t see him use on anyone else. “I’m fine, Dean.” You huffed. If that was true was still out for debate.

“Tell me about it.” He pushed. When you continued to stare at him, but didn’t answer, he questioned you further. “What was your wish? What was different?” This was when you broke eye contact. Your face began to feel warm, and you looked down into your lap. Dean didn’t push. He could be an asshole, but he was an asshole that cared about you. You two sat in silence for a while, as you considered how much to reveal to him. You knew he wouldn’t let it go. Maybe he’d leave it alone for a day or so, but this conversation was inevitable. “Things were just,” you hesitated for a second, “different.” Dean nodded, subtly encouraging you to continue. “We didn’t live this,” you gestured to the room around you, “kind of life. I mean we did, we stayed in motels with each other and all, but we didn’t have to deal with everything else. We weren’t hunters.” You explained.

“That’s your wish? To stop hunting?” Dean asked with a conviction that had you convinced that if you said yes, you’d never have to go on a hunt again, and he would make sure of it. However, you shook your head, “It’s not even about hunting, I don’t think. We were on some stupid roadtrip. To see Jess. She was graduating from college.” Dean hummed at your explanation. “So your wish was to be on a roadtrip with us? Or for Jess to still be alive?” Dean questioned again, almost in awe of how selfless he thought you were. But, you shook your head again. “I wish that we were able to meet differently.”

“Differently?” Dean repeated. “Yeah,” you shrugged your shoulders, “like, normal people, I guess. In a bar or at some sporting event. Something stupid, that regular people get to experience.” Dean was quiet, contemplating what you said. He would’ve never guessed that your wish was something so simple. Your wish was so mundane, so un-earth shattering, that it was hard for him to wrap his head around it. You knew his wish, wanting his mother to still be alive. That was worth wishing for. A different kind of life with him and his brother was not. If Dean could make your wish for you, it would probably be the exact opposite. He’d wish that you never met him and never had to deal with all of the world-saving bullshit being with the Winchesters came with. Hell, even if you were still hunting, you’d at least be safe from the archangels and the king of Hell and Lillith and all of the other crap he had to deal with. You could hunt normal things, like vampires and werewolves and wendigos and maybe the occasional witch or demon.

“And if we met like normal people, what would that mean?” Dean was trying to understand the fantasy you got to live in, even if it was only for a brief moment. “I don’t know. We were on some stupid road trip and seeing the World’s Largest Basket. Sam and Jess were moving in together to live close to us.” We held hands and you kissed me on the forehead and called me your girlfriend. Dean nodded, seeing how a simple life like that could be enjoyable. “Close to us?” He questioned, picking up on the fact you two at least lived close, if not together, in your fantasy. You nodded, shrugging your shoulders.

“Food’s here!” Sam called as the door to your motel room opened. You smiled, standing up to meet him at the table. Dean hesitated, not moving from his spot on the bed for a brief second. If he could live in his fantasy world, he thinks he’d like to live with you, too.

The next hunt found you and the boys in the middle of Alabama, searching for a vengeful spirit preying on men who broke their wives heart. The night you were able to gank them, Dean had suggested “celebratory spirits, in honor of the spirit we’d put to rest”. Who were you to argue with that?

So, you three found yourselves in a local dive bar. You were nestled into a corner booth, right by the pool tables, where Sam and Dean were playing two older locals. You were pretty sure Sam was hustling the poor old man, but Dean seemed to be playing for fun. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome Dean truly was when he allowed himself to relax for a moment. He had his two favorite people in the world with him and a cold beer in his hand. He was content.

“Wanna play?” Dean asked as he chalked his pool stick. “Me?” You asked, shocked that he would extend that offer. You’d never been good at pool, which Dean was definitely aware of. There was no shot he wanted you to play, especially if there was any money involved. “Yeah, I can finally teach you the skills so you can start your own hustle,” Dean explained, gesturing to Sam and confirming your suspicions. “If you want me to,” You stated, then downed the rest of your drink, before moving to grab the other pool stick. “You wanna break?” Dean asked as he set the game up.

Dean showed you different tricks and spent a lot of time showing you how to get the right angles and power on your hits. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed together when he pressed his chest against your back, lowered his head to be next to your ear, and wrapped his hands around yours on the pool stick. He was a very effective teacher.

By the time Dean had finally hit in the 8-ball in, Sam had wandered away. You spotted him talking to a pretty red-head by the bar. There was no surprise when he slid his hand around her waist, guiding her out of the bar. You received a text to both you and Dean that read “not coming back to the motel tonight” a few minutes after. You knew Dean had read it when he whispered, “my man!” and slid his phone back into his pocket. “You doing the same?” You asked Dean once you both settled into the booth, seeing the way he was looking around the bar, eyeing up the patrons. He shook his head, “Nah, thinking about calling it a night.” He brought his beer bottle to his lips and took the final swig of it. “It’s only 11 o’clock,” you informed him, surprised that he was choosing to go back to the motel. “I’m not cutting you off, princess,” he teased, “I’m just ready to chill.” He emphasized his statement by dragging out the world “chill” and sliding his hands through the air.

Dean knew if he went back to the motel, you would, too. You were never one to stay out and party, especially if he or Sam wasn’t around. It was both a safety kind of thing, and a not having as much fun without them kind of thing.

Dean held the door for you as you walked out of the bar. It had cooled off, into a nice, summer night. Dean surprised you by opening the door to the impala, and closing it for you after you’d settled into your seat. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you teased when he climbed in. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it, sweetheart.”

The ride back was filled with nothing but comfortable silence and a Rolling Stones cassette playing through the radio. You and Dean settled into the room, each taking a bed, assuming Sam would not be coming back at all tonight. Dean usually took the couch during hunts, as Sam was too tall for them, and he would never subject you to the muscle pain that comes with sleeping on broken springs.

You were totally absorbed into the soap opera you’d chosen from the shitty motel channels when Dean finally spoke. “I got one question for you,” he started, shifting his body from being angled at the TV to facing you. His long, jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of where he was sitting against the headboard. You were laying on your side, head resting on your arm and angled down toward the TV. You shifted your gaze to him, “shoot.”

“In your Djinn dream last week, why was Sam moving closer to us?” You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. Your silence was making Dean uneasy, so he rushed to fill it, “I mean we were far from them, yes?” You let out a hum of agreement. “So, why did both of us live so far away from them that they had to move?” You got the feeling that Dean was piecing this together as he said it out-loud. “We lived together?” He asked, giving you his full attention now. Your voice was quiet when you answered, “I guess.”

Dean moved from his position, opting to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. “What else happened?” You locked eyes from him from where you were laying, noticing a shift in the way he talked. There was more edge to his voice. “What?” you asked, shifting your position as well, sitting on the edge of your bed, directly across from him. “I know that we met in a different situation and that we were on some road trip, but what else happened? Why did we live together?” If your face was warm when he asked about how you’d met, then your face was on fire now. You hoped he couldn't sense how flustered you were getting.

“Hey,” he leaned forward, reaching an arm across to rest on your thigh, “no need to get shy on me, now. We all have our things,” He assured, assuming it was something embarrassing you were worried about. It was definitely embarrassing, but not in the way that you look back at the situation in five years and laugh, but in the way that your life may be forever changed once you’ve said it out loud. Your life may be forever changed for the worst, if you have to listen to him say that that was a crazy Djinn dream and something like that would never happen between you two.

Dean’s eyes remained on you, with an expectant look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, trying to find a way to explain what happened without him realizing that you were totally, deeply, grossly in love with him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled, moving to sit next to you, instead of across from you. The energy in the room continued to get tenser, as he got closer, invading your personal space. For the second time that night, his face was next to yours and his lips were moving by your ear. “We were close in your fantasy?” He asked, voice low and husky. You nodded, afraid that your voice would give too much away. “Closer than we are right now?”

You weren’t sure if he was talking on an emotional level, or a proximal one. Sure, the answer to both questions was yes, but you didn’t want to tell him that. He was your boyfriend, and, at multiple points in your fantasy world, you two were touching. It was in rather innocent ways, but you were touching nonetheless. You let out a sigh, before nodding again. Due to him being so close, you couldn’t see the smirk that spread across Dean’s face at your confession.

“What? We were married? Lived together in some rancher in the middle of New Mexico?” He switched back to his teasing mode. “You were my boyfriend,” you corrected, without realizing what you were confessing to. Dean’s eyes widened briefly, “So, let me get this right,” he backed away from you, just a little bit. You were still disappointed to lose the warmth his body heat was providing. “In your fantasy world, a world where you could’ve wished for anything you wanted, I was your boyfriend?” Fuck your face being on fire, it was melting into the deepest pit of Hell, where there was nothing but torches and conflagrations. “Yes, Dean,” you huffed, completely moving yourself away from him and closer to your headboard, “Now stop being mean about it and go back to your stupid soap opera.”

Dean let out a gentle ‘tsk’, moving his body closer to yours, as if he was chasing the feeling you were giving him. “Sweetheart, I’m not being mean. I’m just making sure you want this as much as I do.” With that, Dean’s lips were on yours. He swallowed the gasp you let out before you relaxed into his touch. Your hands moved into the short length of his hair, holding him as close as physically possible. “Fuck,” Dean breathed as he pulled away from you. His hands move to rub along the top of your thighs. “You okay?”

You nodded, eagerly. He let out a low chuckle, before diving back into pressing his lip against yours. Dean’s body guided your own, getting you to lay down so that he could hover over you. He supported his weight with his right hand, allowing his left to slide down your side. His lips were making you dizzy as he kissed down the side of your neck. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot, you let out a gentle moan. Dean stopped for just a second to bask in the sound, before returning to the spot with a deep suck. His tongue slid over the skin to soothe the burn once he felt you were sufficiently marked to his liking.

Dean continued this pattern, searching your body for spots that made moans fall from your lips and your body writhe against his. He was painfully hard from enjoying the friction your thigh was creating him for him, but he was enjoying your reactions too much to stop. Dean was always one to enjoy the delicious things in life.

So, it was no surprise that he kissed down your body, helping you remove every article of clothing that got in his way, before he settled himself between your legs.

He started by rubbing his calloused hands along the inside of your thighs. He followed each slide of his each with a kiss, easing the burn from his rough hands on such a sensitive area. You were sure he could see the wet spot that formed on your panties, which were the last piece of clothing you were wearing. It was hard to ignore how he was still fully clothed when you were so bare. “Dean,” you whined with a harder tug of his hair. He let out a ‘hm’, as he left another mark on the inside of your left thigh. One only he would be able to see.

Your hands slid down from their place in his hair to pull on his collar, signaling to him that you wanted it off. “Want something, sweetheart?” He asked. If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve kicked that stupid grin off of his face. You shifted your gaze down to where he was waiting for you to say something. The sight of him between your legs was heavenly, and if you wanted him earlier, you needed him now. You pulled on his shirt again, with a breathy, drawn out, “Dean.” He chuckled again, before pushing himself onto his knees to pull off his shirt. He did not give you the kindness off removing anything else.

He did finally, finally, touch your soaked panties. Dean’s fingers were gentle as he slid them through your clothed slit. “God, baby,” He almost sounded as whiny as you did, “I did this all to you?” Dean’s cocked twitched in his jeans when answered with a sickly sweet, “Yes, De.”

“Guess I’ll have to do something to clean it up for ya, huh?” You didn’t have the chance to answer before he moved his fingers to circle around your clit, drawing a deep moan out of you. Your legs were starting to feel like jello as you began to go dumb from your arousal. All your mind, body, and soul could focus on at the moment was Dean Winchester. Your Dean Winchester. Your real Dean Winchester.

Dean stayed there for a while, sitting between your legs, tracing painfully slow circles on your clit. He ignored all of your attempts to get him to do something more. It was as if he didn’t hear your moans and whines, or feel the way your hands were reaching for his wrist to get him to stop, or do more, you weren’t exactly sure. He was driving you crazy, giving you enough to keep your mind focused on him, but not enough to push you any closer to the mind shattering orgasm you were chasing. You knew he could give it to, why was he being so mean?

After what could’ve been either a few minutes or a few hours, your brain was too mushy to know the difference, Dean decided to show a little mercy on you. “You’re so pretty,” he complimented, adjusting his position so he could pull your underwear down your legs. He pressed a sweet kiss above your knee as he pulled the drenched fabric over them. “I’m really enjoying this,” he informed you, as if you couldn’t tell from the tent in his pants and the way he was dragging this out. He flicked his gaze to you, waiting for a response. “Me too, Dean,” you assured him.

You saw the shade of pink on his cheeks slightly darken. He looked so good, so pretty, like this. There were beads of sweat along his forehead, his pupils were blown, and his cheeks, his fucking cheeks, were the most beautiful shade of pink you’d ever seen. You wanted nothing more than to take a picture, capture this moment, and have it to look back on whenever you wanted.

“I’m gonna make you feel good now, yeah?” He said as his fingers started to move again, finally giving the pressure you’d been craving.

Wanton moans fell from your lips as he inserted two fingers into your dripping cunt. “Oh,” you gasped, pleasantly full from his fingers. His rhythm was perfect as he tried out a few different angles before he found the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. It only took a few strokes from him to pull your orgasm from you. Dean knew you were cumming before you moaned, “Cumming, Dean, I’m cumming,” from the way your muscles spasmed around his fingers. God, he couldn’t wait to feel you cum on his cock.

Dean worked you through your orgasm, not stopping his movements until you were breathing heavily and holding his wrist in place by pressing your thighs together. “Doing okay?” He checked in after you let him go. You didn’t have the capacity to form words, or even coherent thoughts yet, so you simply nodded.

Dean stayed in his spot between your legs, massaging the fat of your thighs and rubbing his hands along your shins. You truly had never felt more relaxed than you were currently feeling in this moment. Everything, for once, was perfect, and there was no need for a monster to kidnap you and place you in a fantasy world while he feeds on you to feel like this. All you needed was Dean. All you’ve ever needed was Dean. All you will ever need is Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” you mumbled into the comfortable silence. He didn’t reply, but raised his eyebrows at you. You shot him a sweet smile, not feeling the need to explain what you were thinking. He matched it, sending you a gorgeous grin.

You gave yourself just a few more moments to recover before beckoning him to come closer. He quickly obliged, pressing his lips to yours again. There was no rush this time. You both knew you had all of the time in the world to enjoy each other from here on out.

You slid your hands down Dean’s chest, surprised at how soft his skin was. Your hands tugged on the button of his jeans, undoing them for him. There were no words spoken between you two as you helped him out of the remainder of his clothes. He reassumed his spot hovering above you, pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and then gently slid himself into you. You let out matching moans as he bottomed out, filling you up perfectly. Dean waited to move, allowing himself to bask in your warmth for a little bit.

His first few thrusts were gentle. They matched his demeanor as he reached up above where your head laid on the pillow to hold your hand. Dean held eye contact as he began to pick up his pace. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Not when he’d been dreaming of this moment for so long.

“Feels good, Dean,” you babbled, exhausted and content. He responded with a low groan, burying his head into the crook of your neck. His right hand moved to your thigh, hiking it up around his waist as he began to pick up his pace.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he hit a spot deep in your cervix, “fuck, baby.” He repeated. If you were cock-dumb, he was definitely pussy-drunk. Dean was lost in the feeling of you. His grip on your hand tighten as he started to pound into you. The hand that wasn’t interlocked with his moved to his back, leaving scratches that would burn the next time he took a shower.

“So fucking good,” Dean mumbled in your ear. His hips started to jerk as pressure began to build up in his abdomen. There was a fire growing in his lower stomach that would erupt into a brain numbing orgasm. He didn’t think twice as he painted the inside of your walls white, filling you to the brim with his seed.

Dean didn’t stop, he was riding out his own high, just as he had done for you and yours.

“God, baby,” he sighed out once he was done, collapsing on top of you. You welcomed the weight, finding comfort in his body. “Why did we wait so long to do that?” Dean mumbled in your ear. You giggled in response, totally enamored with this new side of him.

You tried to ignore how empty you felt when Dean finally pulled himself out of you. There was a conversation that needed to be had now, but you weren’t sure how to start it. The tension in the room could be felt again, but it was different. It was uncomfortable as you both tried to navigate whatever this was now.

Dean stood from the bed, grabbing two towels off of where they were thrown over the chair, “C’mon, let’s shower and get’cha cleaned up.” You nodded, following in his footsteps.

Dean turned on the water and stepped into the shower as you peed. Once you were done, you joined him. Despite all of things you two had done, this was the most vulnerable you’d felt all night.

“We gotta talk about it, ya know,” Dean started as he turned away from you to get soap on a rag. He rubbed it between his hands to suds it up before bringing it to your shoulder. He washed the tension away from your neck, gently traced the rag over your breasts, massaged the soap into your thighs, and got you clean. He was so gentle, so relaxed.

“I know,” you sighed, scared for what would come out of it. “So you’d want me to? To, uh, be your boyfriend or whatever?” He asked as he stood to his full height after washing your calves. “I mean, yeah, if you’d want to be.” You shrugged, trying not to let him see how hard your heart was beating in your chest.

His eyes lingered on yours as a few beats of silence passed between you two.

“Hey,” he murmured as he called your name, “Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You let out a giggle at his chivalry, eagerly nodding. Dean’s smile matched yours as he pulled you into his chest. He held you tightly, squeezing you into him. You were pretty sure that this shower was nothing but a waste of water, as you two would find yourselves wrapped in each other between the sheets, again, before the night was over.

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester blurb #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural blurb #supernatural drabble #supernatural smut

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my-stories-vault · 3 days ago

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Soldier Dean feels befitting, somehow?

I mean, he was always treated like one - it feels like it should be about time he was respected, paid, and loved like one, aimrite?

That's how I feel, at least. Feels lighter this way 🙃🫠 - like a great opportunity for happiness to come!

Can't wait for the next chapter, Zep! Nailed it, as always ❤️.

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

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Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut.

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said.

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?”

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap.

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once.

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?”

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said.

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks.

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly.

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.”

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.”

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff.

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so.

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly.

“Hmm. No real loss there then.”

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.”

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner.

“Excuse me?”

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.”

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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rubyvhs · 3 days ago

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show me love [ dean w. ]

SUMMARY . you and dean’s friendship (of both platonic and sexual nature) falls apart when his father goes missing TAGS . 0.7k words, cliffhanger, all texting, heavy angst LAILA’S NOTES . y’all I’d apologize but this is the first thing i’ve written in years so if anything we should be happy.

February 2003

Dean: Hey, sweetheart.

Still in Georgia?

You: Yeah, why? Are you thinking of passing by?

Dean: Something like that.

I’ll be there in two days, maybe.

You: That sounds great, D. Text me when you’re here.

August 2003

Dean: Look outside.

You: You’re a real piece of work, you know that?

Rocks at my windows was sexy a century ago.

Dean: Still worked though, didn’t it?

You: Yeah, asshole, I’m awake at three in the morning.

Dean: Does that mean you’re not gonna open the door?

You: Fuck you. I’m getting dressed.

Dean: No point, gonna take it all off anyway.

You: You left suddenly, didn’t know I was a one night stand, asshole.

Dean: Sorry, sweetheart, Sam called and I didn’t wanna wake you up. We can grab something to eat tonight, how’s that?

You: Is that a promise you actually plan on keeping?

Dean: Swear on my life.

You: I’ve seen it, ain't much to swear by.

Dean: Ouch.

You: Miss you, pick me up at seven.

Dean: See ya then, baby.

June 2005

Dean: Hey

You: Hi, D. Been a while.

Dean: Yeah, I’m sorry

You: It’s okay, I never expect much from us anyway. What’s up?

Dean: Do you think I’m a bad person?

You: No. Why would you say that?

Dean: I’m gonna ask Sam to come back, I can’t find dad.

You: Why didn’t you tell me? And it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I mean, I would advise against it, Sam deserves a good life and you know that, but the fact that you’re asking before doing it says everything I need to know.

Dean: What does it say?

You: That you have a pure heart, D. Don’t ever doubt it, okay?

But also incase you were actually thinking of it, please don’t go get Sam. He’s out, he’s finally out of the life, Dean.

I text him every week and he’s happy and in love, don’t do it.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: Answer the phone.

Dean answer me.

Stop ignoring my calls

You suck

You: You’re still not a bad person.

August 2005

You: I will never forgive you.

Ever.

Dean: I didn’t know you’d be here.

You: Fuck you. You disappeared on me for months and stop answering my calls you fucking asshole and then I try talking to you and you walk away in front of everyone.

Do you understand how fucking humiliating that was for me? My sister’s asking if I’m okay, that’s how bad it is.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: You’ve never once meant that, Dean.

Not fucking once.

You’re a dick.

And one day, you’re the one who’s gonna regret it, not me.

September 2005

Dean: Hunted a Djinn today.

Wanna know what my perfect life looked like?

You: Oh now you wanna talk?

Real nice of you.

Dean: You know what it was

You: And yet I don’t care

Don’t text me again

Dean: You would’ve blocked me if you meant it.

It was you, sweetheart.

You: Good night, Dean.

Dean: Night.

Sam: Hey, darling.

You: Sam!!!!!!!

I’ve missed you endlessly

Literally haven’t seen you in ages

Sam: Yeah, sorry about that.

Dean told me that he met you at the gathering.

You: Yeah why weren’t you there?

Sam: Just didn’t feel like it.

But I do miss seeing you, send me your location?

You: Virginia, what about you?

Sam: Close. About a day out.

You: You don’t have to, we can meet up when we’re closer.

Sam: Ah, so you don’t wanna see me?

You: No no no I do, just don’t bring Dean.

Please, Sammy.

Sam: Sorry, sweetheart but if I drive him around then I get to go wherever he does.

You: Dean?

Sam: Yeah, Sam’s in the bathroom. We’re on our way.

You: Don’t text me.

Sam: Heard that threat before.

Sam: Hey, sorry, I didn’t know he would do that.

You: I’m wrapping up my hunt, won’t be in Virginia when you get here.

Sam: No no, please.

You: Sorry.

January 2006

Sam: Hey.

You: Hi.

Sam: Dean’s dying.

You: What are you talking about?

Sam, answer the phone.

Sam the last thing I told him is to not talk to me please answer the phone

Sam: We’re at Bobby’s.

You: I’m on my way.

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s0urw00lf · 3 days ago

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When the bow breaks

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader / Sam Winchester x reader / Bobby singer x reader

Summary: Sam Dean and Bobby find out that you made a deal and they’re not happy about it

An: this can be read as either a Sam x reader or a Dean x reader or both just platonically also might be a part two I wrote this in a way that it doesn’t need a part two but one could be added

Supernatural masterlist

“Damn it y/n!” Dean shouted at you throwing down his beer, shattering it to pieces. You felt the shards fall against your boots but you didn’t flinch.

Bobby looked at you in disbelief, he marched toward you grabbing your shoulders firmly, almost knocking you off balance “how could you be so damn stupid!? All this time, all we’ve been through together and this is how you decide to go?!” There was fire in his eyes and his facial expression matched.

You knew they’d be angry, but that’s the way it has to be. You just got back from making a deal to bring back Sammy. You put your head down holding back the tears in your eyes “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let it be one of you” you said.

Dean scoffed, making you lift your head to him. You pulled out of Bobby’s grip rushing towards Dean pushing him, making him go back a few steps. You laughed bitterly “you don’t get to scoff at me like you’re all high and mighty. You know you would’ve done it if I hadn’t”

His gaze hardened “yeah? what makes it okay for you to do it then huh?!” He challenged. “Because I don’t have anything left! All of my family is gone Dean! Sam needs you, you need him and you both need Bobby. It was only fair”

“What do you think we don’t need you too? We’ve known each other since we were teenagers! And been together damn near ever since” deans anger was more scary than Bobby’s. He resembled John a lot when he was angry abt thy was something that still scared your inner teenage self.

You stepped back “I’m sorry Dean, but I can’t see you like that. I won’t.” You shook your head letting the tears fall finally. “And you don’t have to see me like that. I’ll go home. Spend my last moments there like the rest of my family.” Your voice was quiet and broken, not having the ability to keep up the strong voice.

There was a long silence following what you said, nobody dared to speak, or even wanted to but that question loomed over everyone’s head and no one was brave enough to ask it but they had to.

“How long they give you?” Bobby questioned quietly. His gaze wasn’t even on you, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of you and that broke your heart just a little bit.

You looked to Dean contemplation written all over your features. “How long y/n” Dean pressed. You licked your lips “six months”

It was as if all the sound and air had been sucked from the room at your confession. You awaited an outburst from either of the two men but none came. At least not from them.

“You made a deal!” You heard from behind you. Your heart sank at the sound of his voice, you sis t want him to know, or to find out like this but it was too late and you were at the part of no return.

You turned to face the tall man who looked like you just crushed his soul. “Sam I had to” you said in a pleading tone. “Why would you do that- I mean I don’t understand!” He all but shouted.

“Because it was either me or Dean, Sam. With him gone you’d be all broken up! No matter what you say you need each other more than you need me! And maybe it’ll hurt but you’ll still have each other!” You yelled back.

Sam shook his head “that’s not your damn choice to make!”

You scoffed a laugh, “it’s all my choice Sam. Look I don’t know when it’s gonna occur to you guys but I’m a grown woman! I can make my own decisions without you breathing down my neck. And I did I made my chose, live with it damn it!” You shouted at all three men before rushing out of the house.

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unfortunate-brat · 2 days ago

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Forbidden Fruit

winchester!twins x latina!reader

synopsis: when adam and eve stumbled into the garden of eden, god had only one rule. the fruit that came from the tree, with it’s beautiful green leaves and delicious looking fruit was forbidden. neither one would eat it, or they shall face a consequence worse than death. yet when both twins meet you, a face far too beautiful for a school like this, they face the same temptation that adam and eve once did.

series warnings: smut, angst, jealousy, dark themes, sibling rivalry

yazzy's comments:okay i do have to give credit to @floralscented because their stanford!dean fics came out before my own. i love a good twins au and love triangle. this will not have chapters in order as each piece can be read as a standalone. also ave and I were discussing this so they are also credited for the brain rot we had with these fuckers.

jackles crew: @deansbeer / @soldiersgirl / @stereotypicalbarbie

18+, must have age in bio to interact. minors and ageless accounts will be blocked !!

follow @unfortunate-bratfics for just new posted imagines !!

you met the boys in the fall at stanford during orientation, noting their similar features and contradicting behaviors.

michael, the oldest, was reserved. didn’t speak much and often used his eyes to communicate. his clothes were ironed and tailored to every single inch of skin. glasses perched on his freckled nose, pillows of pink pursed into a thin line unless he turned them upside down for a brief frown. hair parted and combed neatly to the side. you’d find him in the library, in his own reserved study room getting a head start on other assignments or reading greek history. book in one hand and an apple in another. the man was a health freak.

dean, the youngest of the two was more outgoing. that charming smile and way with words had anyone practically under his spell. usually his hair was spiky, not really combed out and left alone. unlike his older twin, dean had no issue speaking his mind, yet when it came to feelings he would keep them inside. his eyes always a soft green, ones any girl would lose themselves in. you’d often see him on the football field running laps or drills. being captain was a tough position but he made it seem easy. his diet was terrible, always ditching lunch breaks for burgers across the street. the cheesier the better.

both boys gained lots of attention that first year and though it took time to not confuse them, eventually people spotted the differences. knew which twin like or didn’t like, sometimes the hard way. michael didn’t like to make chitchat, so when the cheerleaders would spot him in the hallway and rush over, he’d flash them a glare before walking away. and when dean spotted those same cheerleaders later, flaunting his infamous smile, they’d walk away. dean hated how michael ruined his reputation sometimes, he wanted to fit in for once. or at least try to.

you had spotted signs to not get the twins confused, recalling michael always carried his watch and had a slightly darker shade of green in his eyes. though that’s if you could stand looking at him in the eyes long enough. the older twin was easily annoyed, looking down upon everyone like a god and his mortals.

when it came to dean, the young man instantly brightened up the room. his hair was either spiky or somewhat shaggy. eyes a bright green like a candy apple, lips curled into a sweet smile. a total sweetheart and the poster boy for any rom com. sometimes though, he carried a faint smell of cigarettes. if anyone were to ask, no he hadn’t been smoking.

·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙

Please note; I do not allow translations or redistributions of my work by anyone else except myself. MDNI, if your account is ageless or empty, I will block you !! Minors are NOT welcome here.

#yazzy’s works !!#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #michael!dean x reader #michael!dean x latina!reader #forbidden fruit au 🍓 !!#angst #smut #fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #michael!dean #Dean Winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst

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scarletqueenx · 3 days ago

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chapter one - lazarus rising

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Time passed, but for you everything froze at the very moment your eyes met Dean's lifeless body. The shock of losing Dean had hit you hard, more that you had imagine, and you found yourself moving through life on autopilot, simply going through the motions of each day without truly living.

At first, you tried to be there for Sam, to be there for him in what you knew were the worst days of his life. You also tried to stand by your father and your worried little brother side. You tried to help Carter, Maddie and Harper get their lives back to normal. But every second that passed was like a dagger of pain piercing your body.

Two weeks after Dean's death, you disappeared. You left without a word. You received millions of calls from your family, Maddie and Bobby but they all ended up on voicemail.

You tried to keep busy by hunting and not think about the pain that constantly weighed down on you. But no matter what you did, the pain was always there, a constant, dull ache in your chest.

You couldn't breathe.

The days were endless and agonizing, so much that you found yourself withdrawing more and more, isolating yourself from the world and from others. You didn't want to be around people who were happy and carefree; it only made your own suffering much more unbearable.

Nightmares haunted you every night, replaying the image of Dean's lifeless body in your mind over and over. It was a torturous cycle, one that left you feeling weak and shaken to your core. But it wasn't only the dreams that haunted you.

Lilith's possession of your body and mind had left its mark. Even now, you could feel the demon's presence lingering within you, a constant reminder of the evil that had touched you.

The world seemed to lose its color, fading into shades of gray. Every sight, sound, and feeling was tainted by sadness, and the only way you felt you could cope with it was to drown your tears in alcohol. It was the only thing that brought you any comfort. At night, as you closed your eyes, you hoped that your dreams would transport you to a better place, a world where Dean was still alive and by your side.

You fell into a routine. Hunt, sleep, drink and repeat. All while looking for some way to bring Dean back to life.

Meanwhile, trying to adjust to the routine of living with his father, away from his sister and Maddie, Peter was trying his best to reach out to them. Maddie had decided to sell her mother's house and, following Bobby's invitation to stay with him, was now helping the hunter with research. You barely answered your phone, if you weren't hunting or drinking, you were sleeping or just didn't want to talk to anyone.

Harper was another mystery to the boy, the mystery in which he had decided to refuge in the absence of his older sister and the shock of discovering that he also had an older brother. Carter had disappeared from the map after that night, so Peter had only Harper to rely on.

It wasn't just curiosity that drove Peter's interest in Harper, but also a deep sense of empathy. After all, he understood what it was like to be a young person trying to find his place in the world, especially in such unusual circumstances. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than met the eye.

Harper Kenner, daughter of Grant Kenner, had lived nearly fifteen years trapped within herself, without aging more than a couple of years and unable to control her own body and mind. That would leave its mark on anyone. Peter longed to know what supernatural being had possessed her. His initial theory had been a demon, but the compassion she exuded and her apparent powers didn't align with typical demonic behavior.

Now Harper lived with Bobby and Maddie, hiding under a different name and trying to make sense of everything that had happened to her over the past years. While also trying to grasp what her father's death while possessed by the demon Dorian meant to her and her now new life.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

September 18th, 4 Months After Dean's Death

A new day awaited while you were still asleep, curled up in that musty motel room. The bed was particularly comfortable compared to the other motels you'd been in, but that hadn't helped for your night to be peaceful and free of nightmares.

When the harsh sunlight hit your face, you woke up grunting and wincing. Your head ached from the alcohol you had consumed the previous night, and every one of your senses felt heightened and painful. You knew you had a tough hunt ahead of you, but all you wanted to do was stay in bed and ignore the world. Still, you knew from experience that trying to rest would only bring memories of Dean to your mind. So, despite your wishes, you forced yourself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom to take a hot shower.

The coffee at the motel wasn't the best, but it did its job of waking you up completely so you could get to work on that case involving a nest of vampires. You had been chasing them for several weeks from Florida, to Nashville, Tennessee, when you finally felt you could take them down once and for all.

You sat at the small table in your room, looking over everything you had researched as you finished your cup of black coffee and prepared your weapons. It was the ringing of your phone that brought you out of your thoughts. Thinking it was Peter, you didn't even bother to look its screen as you ignored the call, but when it rang once again, you decided to answer as you let out a sigh.

"What is it?" Your voice came out sharp and full of annoyance, but there was also a trace of concern. You didn't want to be bothered, but if it was an emergency and your brother was in danger, you would leave everything for him.

However, no one answered on the other end of the line. The only thing you could make out was the shaky sound of someone's breathing.

"Hello?" Confused, you pulled the device away from your ear to look at the caller. It wasn't your brother, your father or anyone you knew, it was a completely unknown number. Frowning, you spoke once again. "Hello?"

The lack of response from the other end of the line only increased your unease. In a burst of anxiety, you ended the call without a second thought.

Barely a minute later, that unfamiliar phone number called you again. With your jacket on and ready to go hunting, you answered in exasperation.

"Listen, if this is a joke, it's not funny. Stop calling me or I swear I'll come after you." You stated firmly before hanging up.

The person on the other end stared at the phone in astonishment at your aggressiveness.

Surely you weren't the only person Dean had called from that empty gas station after waking up in his own grave in the middle of a perfect circle of dead trees, laying on the ground as if an unearthly powerful blast had felled them. But at least with Bobby he had managed to open up and tell him what had happened, but the man hadn't believed a single one of his words.

Upset with himself for not being able to talk to you and frustrated that Bobby didn't believe him, Dean found himself forced to steal a car to travel to Sioux Falls, where Bobby's house was located.

Things there were very different compared to how Dean remembered them. Bobby's house used to be an uncrowded place. Bobby hardly had any visitors or guests other than the Winchesters, but now Maddie and Harper occupied his only other bedroom. Having them with him was like a breath of fresh air despite the hard time the hunter was going through with Dean's death and yours and Sam's departures. Bobby didn't have children, but those two girls were certainly becoming his family.

On top of that, Peter had shown up at his door the night before, backpack over his shoulder and a tired expression on his face. The Holloway boy had run away from home, tired of watching his father lock himself in his office and practically ignore him to avoid the big elephant in the room which he still hadn't wanted to talk to him about his brother Carter.

Maddie's food had improved Bobby's eating. He could cook, but if it weren't for her love of photography, Maddie might as well be a chef. Meals were also the only time Harper talked to them at all, since most of the time she was quiet, lost in thought or reading one of Bobby's supernatural lore books.

Due to the long trip from San Francisco, Peter had spent the morning sleeping in, missing even lunchtime. When he finally awoke, overcome by a nightmare, Peter descended the stairs. The house fell into an uneasy silence, sending a shiver down his spine with each step he took.

"Bobby? Maddie?" He called, peering into the kitchen, which was impeccably clean and empty. "Bobby?" He called once more, walking into the living room. "Don't ask me why, but I think my sister needs our help."

Peter stood speechless as he walked up to the entrance of the house. There was no sign of Maddie and Harper, and Bobby seemed too calm considering the other person there. Across from the young Holloway stood Dean Winchester, in the flesh, and breathing.

"I thought you were supposed to be in a pine box?" Peter stared at him in shock, eyes narrowed and body slightly tense. Dean couldn't help but chuckle at his playful comment. He hated to say it, but he had missed Peter's smart-ass comments and their little bickering relationship.

"Yeah, it surprised me too." Dean admitted, turning back to Bobby. "You had to bury me, really?"

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it." Bobby explained.

Dean nodded as he looked back at Peter, who was scrutinizing him with his eyes while tilting his head to the side.

"How do we know you're not a demon or a shapeshifter or a...?"

"He already passed all the tests." Bobby said, cutting him off.

"All?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, all."

"It's me, kid." Dean assured him.

"If that's true, then we should tell my sister."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean nodded, not wanting to wait another second to see you. "What were you saying about her needing help, by the way?"

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. I just woke up with this strange feeling."

"Let's take it one step at a time." Bobby said, walking into the living room. "Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit-"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." Dean noted. Peter chuckled as Bobby nodded.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much." Dean shrugged. "I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..."

"Oh, he's alive. As far as I know." Bobby sat down.

"Good... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it."

"Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For any of us." Bobby looked down. "He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

"Same with my sister." Peter added.

Dean's face fell as he took in the words. His heart ached as he thought about you, struggling alone and refusing any help. He couldn't imagine what you must have gone through, how much pain and confusion you must have felt. The thought of you struggling and alone, not wanting to be found... it was almost too painful to bear.

He felt a pang of guilt and regret for being gone, for not being there for you. He could only hope that now that he was back he could find a way to make it up to you somehow.

Still, Dean tried his best to shake off the flood of emotions that had come over him at the mention of your struggles. Right now, his priority was Sam. He needed to find him and make sure that he was safe.

"Oh, damnit, Sammy." He muttered.

"What?" Bobby looked up at him.

"I don't know what he did for me to be back, but whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?" Peter frowned.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." He added, stripping off his jacket to roll up his sleeve and reveal the handprint burn on his left shoulder.

Peter's eyes widened as Bobby stood up.

"What in the hell?" The man asked.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Dean explained.

"But why?" Peter asked, confused. That didn't sound like the topical demon behavior.

"To hold up their end of the bargain." Dean answered.

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby assumed,

"It's what I would have done." Dean admitted.

Minutes later, Peter sat on the porch of the house with a comic book in his hands. His attention however wasn't on the comic but on Harper, who now sat in one of the cars in the junkyard reading another of Bobby's books.

She and Maddie had returned from running errands shortly after Dean had shown up. Their reactions were completely different. Harper didn't know Dean, but she knew he had been a sore subject at Bobby's house. Maddie had barely spent any time with him, but during her time as Peter's babysitter she had grown very fond of you and the two hunters, especially knowing how much they meant to you.

Maddie's caring nature and empathy made her drop the shopping bags all at once and throw herself into Dean's arms to wrap him in a tight hug. The girl couldn't help but think how happy his return would make Sam and you, also selfishly hoping the two of you would get back in touch.

When the door behind him opened, Peter rose quickly to his feet, directing his gaze toward the two men now descending the porch steps.

"Did you find Sam?" He asked. Dean nodded.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Isn't that where you...?

"Yeah, right where I popped up." Dean replied as he walked behind Bobby toward his car. "Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I wasn't going to say that, but it's certainly weird." Peter said, putting away his comic book. "I'm going with you."

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning on his heels to look at him. Peter looked so much like you it hurt to have him in front of him. The memory of your voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the pain and exhaustion in your tone.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Maddie offered, but you and Harper are better off here."

"You don't even know Harper. You don't know what happened that night. We can handle whatever happens." Peter assured him.

"You'd help more by finding out what the hell possessed Harper."

"As if we haven't been looking for that the last four months." Peter snorted in annoyance.

"Then find your sister." Dean pleaded, holding him by the shoulders. Peter took a deep breath of air, ready to argue, but the look Dean was giving him was a completely new one. Dean used to display this arrogance and that easygoing attitude, but now that look was completely gone and it had turned into one of desperation. Peter couldn't say no.

"Fine." The boy agreed.

Dean sighed with relief.

"Thanks, kid." Dean cracked a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Peter nodded in silence as he watched him go.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The reunion with his brother wasn't what Dean had expected. He was taken aback to find a half-naked girl accompanying Sam in his motel room. Dean's joy at reuniting with his brother was tainted by his concern for him and the dangerous and reckless act he had likely performed to bring him back to life.

And for Sam, even after Bobby had assured him that the tests had confirmed it was really Dean, he couldn't shake off his confusion.

"So tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean asked, standing above him, arms crossed as Sam sat down.

Sam smiled, taken aback by his question.

"The girl? I don't pay, Dean."

"That's not funny, Sam." Dean replied. "To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam frowned.

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby nodded.

"Well, I didn't."

"Don't lie to me." Dean asked, looking at him with suspicious.

"I'm not lying." He scoffed.

Despite his insistence, Dean didn't quite believe his words.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy?" Dean asked, walking towards him. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?" Sam stood up, angrily.

Upset and confused, believing his brother was lying to him, Dean grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

"I tried everything." Sam assured him, breaking Dean's grip. "That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean took a step back, believing his brother. "You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question." Bobby spoke.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean said.

Taking a deep breath, Sam sat back down and asked them if they had talked to you.

Bobby and Dean share a look and shook their heads.

"She wouldn't have made a deal." Dean assured.

Sam chuckled.

"She was even more determined than me to do so. It hadn't past even a few hours before she started looking for ways to get you back."

Dean sighed.

"So, what? We have to travel all the way out to California?"

"No need. She disappeared two weeks after you died. She's been driving around the country focused on hunting all kinds of supernatural beings. And her father's nearby, as a matter of fact. He has a conference in Chicago on Greek mythology tomorrow. Maybe he knows where she is." Bobby told them.

"We can also call her." Dean suggested. "She answered my call yesterday."

"So you did talk to her." Sam noted with a frown.

"Not exactly." Dean replied. "I... Bobby didn't believe me and when I heard her on the other end of the line... She didn't sound like herself."

"If she'd gotten you out of hell she'd be expecting a call from you." Bobby said. "Maybe it was something else or someone else that got you out of there."

"Yeah, right. What?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know. But maybe she could help us. Henry must know where to find her."

"I doubt it." Sam said. "I called a week ago, Peter answered, but he assured me they hadn't heard from her for about a month."

"I asked him to look for her while we were here. Maybe he found something or got in touch with her." Dean noted.

"Okay, I'm on it." Bobby nodded, pulling out his phone to call Peter.

"So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?" Dean looked back at his brother.

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback." Sam explained.

"All by yourself. Who do you think you are, your old man?" Bobby glared at Sam.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up." Sam sighed. "Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out." Dean sighed.

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked.

"But why?" Sam asked.

"Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

"How you feelin', anyway?" Bobby looked back at him with concern.

"I'm a little hungry." Dean shrugged.

"No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine." Dean assured.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam noted.

"Maybe we can do something about that." Maddie spoke through the phone, for she had been listening to their conversation since Bobby had called. "It's good to hear your voice again, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly at the sound of the girl's voice.

"Same here, Mads."

Dean looked at his brother before asking if they had heard form you.

"No, but Peter can find her." Maddie answered.

"I've been studying magic behind my dad's back with some of his books, I think I can do a quick and easy locator spell." The boy explained.

Dean shifted uncofortable. The idea of using magic, good or bad, wasn't really something he liked.

"I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just need something from her or her blood and I've got both, so."

"This is a really bad idea." Harper muttered in the distance.

"If you don't like it you can always call your friend." Peter said in annoyance.

"How many times do I have to tell you she's not my friend?" Harper complained.

"Surely you care about her or you would have told us who and what the hell she is by now. She possessed your body for years, you have to know who she was."

"I told you it's not important. Forget it."

"Forget it?" The boy scoffed. "Lilith possessed my sister that night, I found out I had a brother and that a demon was the one who killed my mother. I can't forget, Harper, that being was the only one who tried and helped me."

"That being let my father die at your brother's hands after promising to protect us." She argued, annoyed at his insistence. Dean, Sam and Bobby couldn't help but share a glance at her response. It was the first time in four months that Harper had said anything about who had possessed her and it certainly wasn't what they had expected.

"Demons lie, Harper, shocker." Peter rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a demon."

"So what was it?" He looked back at her.

"Will you two stop arguing?" Maddie complained before Harper could said anything else. "It doesn't matter now. Peter, find your sister."

"Okay." The boy nodded.

"It matters if she knows who got me out of hell." Dean said. "Harper..."

"I told you I don't know anything." She interrupted him.

"If she didn't keep her promise, why are you protecting her?" Maddie frowned, looking back at Harper.

"I'm not. It's just..."

"I got it." Peter interrupted her, gaining everyone's attention. "She's in Nashville, Tennessee."

"Didn't you just say you were in Tennessee chasing some demons?" Dean turned to his brother.

"I was, but not in Nashville. She must be there hunting something else."

"There are records of people missing around Nashville." Maddie announced, looking at her laptop. "It looks like a vampire case. Several hospitals are reporting loss of blood supplies and people with piercing wounds on their necks."

"I know a psychic. A few hours from Nashville." Bobby spoke. "Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot." Dean nodded.

"I'll be right back" Bobby said, taking his phone before exiting the room.

Finding himself alone with his brother, Sam finally decided to ask him the question that he had been pondering since their reunion.

"Hey Dean, what was it like?" Sam tried to remain calm and not sound insistent as he looked back at Dean.

"What, Hell?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."

"Well, thank God for that." Sam sighed.

"Yeah." Dean replied looking down. "There's still one thing that's bothering me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit." He chuckled at his own wit. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

"Well, she tried. She couldn't." Sam answered.

"What do you mean, she couldn't?" Dean frowned.

"She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?"

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that." Sam said before explaining everything about Lilith possessing you and scaring Ophelia of when she saw Lilith in your body.

"That's odd."

"Yeah." He sighed.

"How did she take it?" Dean asked with concern.

"I don't know. She didn't say anything to me. You should ask Peter, but I think she's been distant even with him these last few months."

Dean nodded as his concern for you only seemed to grow by the second.

"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" Dean asked after a few seconds.

"Dead. For now."

Dean bit his lower lip, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted ask the next question.

"So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

Sam turned back to him, confuse.

"No." He assured.

"You sure about that?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Bobby stood in front of your motel room, next to him, leaning against the wall were Sam and Dean, each feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as Bobby finally knocked on the door. After a few moments, it creaked open, revealing you—disheveled and battered—on the other side.

Seeing him, your eyes widened in confusion. "Bobby. How... How did you find me?" You whispered.

"Peter tracked you down." He answered. "We need to talk."

Your shoulders slumped slightly, and you leaned against the doorframe.

"We have nothing to talk about." You said, crossing your arms on your chest. "I told you I needed time."

"I heard you, but things have changed."

"What do you...?" Your words trailed off as Sam appeared next to Bobby. Your confusion quickly turned to disbelief, especially as your gaze landed on the green-eyed man next to him. "Dean?" You mumbled.

Dean took a step forward, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He reached out a hand hesitantly, as if trying to convince himself that you were really there. Dean tried to take another step forward, his eyes pleading you to believe him, but your gaze narrowed.

"Don't come any closer." You warned, your voice hoarse from disuse as you took a step back.

Dean froze, his outstretched hand hovering in the air.

"It's me." He said, his voice laced with heartbreak.

Your breath hitched, and your eyes widened with disbelief. "That's impossible." You whispered, your voice laced with shock. "You're dead."

Bobby and Sam watched anxiously as the tension thickened in the air. Dean took another tentative step forward, desperation in his eyes.

"I was." He gulped, his voice hoarse. "I woke up in my on grave two days ago. I don't know how or why, but I'm here. It's me."

Your breathing grew ragged, your body shaking with a mixture of emotions. You leaned heavily against the doorframe, your eyes flickering over Dean's face and body as if searching for some sign that he was lying.

"How?" You asked, your voice cracking. "How is this possible?"

"We don't know yet. We were actually hoping that you would have some idea on how." Bobby replied.

"You think I made a deal?" You raised your eyebrows, looking back at him. "No. I... I tried, God knows I did, but they wouldn't have it."

Sam and Bobby shared a look at your response as you continued to watch Dean with doubt in your eyes. Dean looked back at you, noticing your clear exhaustion defined by the dark circles under your eyes.

Suddenly, your expression hardened, and you pushed yourself upright, your body tense and alert. "Prove it." You then spit. "Prove that you're really you."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and hurt at your hostile tone, but he understood your distrust. He raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. "How?" He asked gently. "What can I do to prove it?"

Sam and Bobby exchanged worried glances as they watched the standoff. Your eyes flicked from them back to Dean. "Tell me something only you would know." You asked.

Dean let out a breath, wracking his brain for something you and him had shared that would convince you he was truly him. After a moment, he spoke. "You have a tiny scar on your right hip, shaped like a star." He said quietly. "You got it when you were five and fell off a swing."

Your eyes widened in shock, and your tough exterior wavered for a moment. You remembered the accident vividly and had never told anyone but him about the scar. The realization that only the real Dean could know something that personal rattled you. But still, you weren't fully convinced.

Dean seized on the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, taking another slow step forward.

"And your favorite movie is Dead Poets Society." He said gently. "You cry every time you watch it."

"He passed all the tests. It's really him." Bobby assured you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memory of watching the movie together came flooding back to you. You had never told anyone that either. Dean's words hit you like a freight train, and your defenses crumbled slightly.

Dean took another couple of steps toward you, his expression earnest. "Please, sweetheart." He pleaded. "You know me. You know it's really me. I don't know how or why I'm back, but I am. I'm here, and I'm real, and I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

Your eyes flickered over his face, your heart at war with your head. Seeing and hearing him after thinking he was dead for so long was overwhelming and impossible to comprehend. But the details he had given you, things only you and him knew, they were undeniable proof he was telling the truth.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's really you?"

Dean nodded, his own eyes glistened with unshed tears. Tears barely perceptible, except you. "It's really me."

Unable to hold back any longer, you rushed forward and threw yourself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. Dean stumbled back a step, but he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around your trembling figure.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, trying to convince yourself that he was truly there. For a moment, all was silent except for the sound of your shaky breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Bobby and Sam felt relief as they watched the emotional reunion unfold before them.

Dean held you tight, his own emotions swirling in his chest. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. As you pulled back, your eyes roamed over his face as if memorizing every detail. A mixture of shock and joy danced in your gaze.

"How is this possible?" You asked, your hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. "You were gone. I saw your body... I mourned you. How are you here?"

Dean's expression darkened as he remembered the strange circumstances of his resurrection. "I don't know." He replied. "Believe me, I've been trying to figure it out since waking up. But, either way, I'm glad I'm back."

A smile tugged at your lips as you replied. "Me too."

Dean pulled back further, suddenly noticing the injuries on your skin and the exhaustion etched into your features. His hands dropped to your sides, and a frown tugged at his lips.

"You look tired." He murmured, his voice soft. "And wounded. What happened to you?"

Having been caught up in the intensity of the reunion, you suddenly became aware of the stinging pain in your own body. You winced as you shifted your weight. You sighed and let your hands slide from his waist, but you kept your gaze fixed on him.

"I'm fine." You said, though he could tell you were lying. Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing glances, silently cursing themselves for not having noticed your injuries earlier. You caught their looks and shrugged, attempting to downplay your pain. "It's just a scratch."

Dean's eyes widened as he noticed the blood that was staining your shirt.

"It doesn't look like 'just a scratch' to me." He said firmly, stepping forward to examine the wound.

Reluctantly, you lifted your shirt, revealing a deep gash in your abdomen. Dean sucked in a breath, his face paling as he saw how serious the injury was and how recent it looked.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, gently running his fingers over the wound.

"It's not that bad." You protested, but the pain in you was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Dean shot you a frustrated look. "Not that bad? You have a gash the size of a dinner plate in your stomach. That's worse than 'not that bad' in my book."

You opened your mouth to protest again, but your knees buckled suddenly, the pain becoming too much for you to bear. Dean and Sam were quick to catch you, propping you up between them.

"All right, that's it." Dean said firmly. "We're getting you patched up."

He and Sam each took one of your arms, carefully guiding you toward the bathroom. Bobby followed closely behind, already gathering supplies for makeshift stitches.

In the small bathroom, you leaned against the counter as Dean examined your wound more closely. Sam stood nearby, his brow furrowed with worry. Dean doused a piece of cloth with antiseptic, readying himself to clean the wound.

"This is going to hurt." He warned you.

You braced yourself, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

"I can handle it." You replied through clenched teeth.

Dean began cleaning the wound, his touch firm but gentle. You winced, your eyes squeezed shut, but you didn't pull away. Sam watched silently, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to contain his worry and anger.

Once the wound was cleaned, Dean took the needle and thread that Bobby handed to him. He began stitch the gash, his fingers steady and precise as he worked. You bit your lip to try and stifle the pain as best you could, your knuckles turning white from gripping the counter.

Dean's focus was completely on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to stitch the wound. Bobby stood nearby, his concern gaze flickering between you and the Winchesters.

Finally, with one last stitch, Dean tied off the last stitch.

"All done." He announced, stepping back. Bobby handed Dean a roll of gauze, and he began wrapping it around your abdomen to secure the stitches. As he worked, he couldn't help but ask. "So, you gonna tell us how you got this injury in the first place?"

You exhaled deeply, the pain already lessening now that the wound had been properly treated.

"I got it fighting a nest of vampires." You said, your voice slightly raspy from pain.

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised glances, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief.

"A nest?" Sam echoed. "You took on a nest of vampires by yourself?"

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I've handled worse." You replied, though your weariness suggested otherwise.

Sam sighed in frustration as he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling inevitably responsible that you had ended up like that. After all, he hadn't stopped you from leaving, nor had he looked for you afterwards.

Dean shook his head. "You're lucky you didn't end up worse off. Or dead." He scolded, finishing up the bandage.

As Dean finished wrapping the bandage, he noticed the look in your eyes, a haunted acceptance of your own mortality. It was a look he knew all too well.

"You didn't care whether you lived or died, did you?" He asked, his voice gentle, but layered with concern.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"You were dead. I didn't care about anything else."

Dean's expression darkened at your blunt response, both pained and frustrated with your dismissal of your own well-being.

"That's stupid. You had Peter, your father, Maddie, Sam and Bobby" He grumbled, carefully helping you off the counter.

"They didn't matter without you here. Nothing mattered."

"So that's it, then? You just stop caring about everyone if I'm gone?" He asked, the pain of your words stabbing through him. "You'd just throw your life away like it doesn't matter to anyone else?" Dean's jaw clenched at your admission, a storm of anger and hurt swirling within him. "You don't get to throw your life away like it's nothing." He continued, his voice rising. "Dammit, sweetheart, you matter. You've got people that care about you. People that need you."

"I need you."

Dean's breath caught in his chest at your words, the raw honesty sending a shiver down his spine.

"I'm here now." He said softly, his anger fading.

Your eyes welled with unexpected tears at his gentle response, the weight of your own loneliness and grief finally catching up to you.

Dean pulled you gently into his arms, holding you tightly.

"I'm here now." He whispered, burying his face against your hair. As he held you, he could feel the tension slowly leave your body, your head resting on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, both lost in your own thoughts.

Sam and Bobby, now standing just outside the bathroom, watched the tender scene unfold. Bobby's expression softened as he observed the moment between Dean and you.

As the moment stretched on, reality slowly began to intrude once more. Sam cleared his throat, and both Dean and you looked up, a mixture of embarrassment and tenderness filling the small bathroom.

"You guys gonna come out any time soon?" Sam called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes, reluctantly releasing his hold on you. You looked up at him, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming." Dean called back, shooting a annoyed look at Sam as he gently guided you out of the bathroom.

"Feel better?" Bobby looked at you.

"Yeah. Much better." You replied as Dean guided you to sit down on the couch.

Dean shot Sam a sharp look when he saw his amused smiled.

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up." He grumbled, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

Too tired to protest, you leaned your head back against the couch, closing your eyes.

Sam took a seat in a chair across from the couch, a smirk still on his face. "Just saying, I never thought I'd see the day my brother turned all sappy over a girl." He teased.

"Keep it up, and I'll show you sappy with my fist in your face."

"All right, you idjits, enough. Save the fighting for the monsters." Bobby spoke, crossing his arms.

Half-dozing on the couch, you opened your eyes just enough to speak. "Shut up, all of you." You mumbled, your voice tired. "Trying to sleep here."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at your words, his expression becoming serious.

"Sorry, kid. No time for rest."

Sam nodded in agreement, his humor disappearing as he remembered the gravity of their situation.

"Yeah, we need to know who got Dean out of hell"

You sighed. "Right. So what's the plan?"

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg @ultramegavoid

want to be tagged? here you have my tag list

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reginaphalangelobster125 · 1 day ago

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Sweater

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Summary: You find Dean's sweater after a long day.

Warnings: child death, description of injuries; bruises, melting children, main character death, angst, little fluff, more angst, no happy ending

Word Count: 1k

Notes: This is my first time writing for Supernatural so please excuse me if it's bad.

Request: Yes

You walked through your room, into the bathroom and undressed. You reached into the shower and adjusted the knobs, hoping the scalding water would burn everything away. Once the temperature was just right you stepped in, the force of the water gushing against your back like a waterfall. It started to melt away your day but it could never wash away the pain. You though back to what you had seen, what no one should ever see, children. Children engulfed in flames. You remembered looking into one child's eyes. You saw beautiful hazel, a perfect synchronicity of icy blue and emerald green eyes melt out of their sockets. You saw their skin start to redden, then bubble, then slide off their bodies. You watched them collapse into puddles before being taken over by the blaze completely. You watched the fire turn them into little blackened chunks and ash. You watched and didn't do a thing. You couldn't. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

You stood in the shower and ran your hands over your body, trying but failing, to get all the blood off. Most of it was the blood of demons. Some of it was yours, some your friends and some that of innocent children. You got a sponge, lathered with soap, and started to run it over your body. You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to get the blood stains out of your skin. You scrubbed further, scraping up skin cells, but you didn't stop. You kept scrubbing, harder and faster, trying to scrub your skin off, trying to get new skin that hadn't been soaked in children's blood. You tried to rid yourself of the impurity. You kept scrubbing harder and harder until you started to bleed.

Standing in the shower you could only fight back your tears for so long, finally letting go. A few drops rolled down your cheeks, so few that they blended with the water shooting at you. Then came more, more tears until they were pouring down your cheeks, it felt like they were threatening to fill the shower and drown you, something you would have welcomed. Tears so powerful you thought their tracks may stain you forever. It was all too much. You fell to your knees and let out an almost primal, animalistic, roar-like scream. You screamed until you though your lungs might burst. You just sat on your knees in the shower and held you self as you cried like a baby. Letting what you could out now, knowing that the moment you stepped out of your room, you'd have to bottle it all back up and pretend everything was fine.

You stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, looking at all of your injuries. You could see your eye already turning a dark purple surrounded by patches of yellow. Your hands were still stained red, it would probably never come off. Bruises and cuts littered your body, a few cuts were still weeping. You noticed the bruising around your ribs had gotten bigger, the whole area looked like it was pressed against you, trying to get out. You pressed a finger, lighter than a feather, to the area and immediately winced.

You entered your bedroom and that's when you saw it. His sweater. The sweater you gave him so many years ago. You tried to get him to throw it out so many times.

"Dean, it has four holes in it"

"Clothes are meant to have holes, babe"

"Arm holes! Not chest holes"

"But 's comfy"

"There's only half of it left"

"It's airy?"

You laughed "Airy? It'd blow away in a light breeze"

"Smartass"

You gasped when his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you down. You landed on top of him and laughed. He held you tight and craned his neck up for a kiss.

"If you throw away the sweater"

"No way"

"You're being even more stubborn than usual, you know that?"

"Yes I do" He said with a swift shake of his head.

"Why do you want to keep it so bad?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Dean"

"Promise?"

"Promise"

"You gave it to me"

"I did"

"Well 's the first thing you gave me" He muttered quietly.

"Baby" You purred in that low tone he loved "You are such a sap"

"Hey! Am not!"

"Are too"

You peppered little kisses down his neck making him shut up, for a second.

"Am not"

"Are" You spoke between kisses "Too"

"Am-"

He was cut off by your lips on his. You kissed him deeply, with so much love and affection that he feared he didn't deserve you. Soon your kisses became more passionate, his hands clawed their way up your back. Your hands flew up to cup his face in your palms. You pulled away breathlessly and started into his eyes.

"Are too"

"Maybe a little bit, for you" He smirked when saying the last two words all in a smug tone.

"I love you"

"I love you, with all my heart"

"You always have to one up me"

"And you always have to get the last word"

"No I don't"

"You just did it"

"I did not"

"Oh you so did"

"I-"

You were cut off by his lips before you could finish the word, Dean's plan exactly.

You stood over that same couch, holding that same sweater, but nothing was truly the same. You were there, the sweater was there but he wasn't.

You pulled it on over your head and snuggled into the soft, fraying wool. You curled up on the couch in a little ball and buried your face into it, smelling him. Tears streamed down your face yet again, soaking the sweater.

Tags:

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @dianawinchester03 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 day ago

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Lais!! I'm SO sorry this took me such a long time to get to read!! It was totally my loss - because this was amazing! I've been wanting to read it since you posted it! 😩 But life has been ridiculous and I've been knocked tf out by Covid for about a week and a half!

I'm starting to do better, much less dizzy and feverish, so I can actually sit up and concentrate on a screen without feeling like I'm gonna pass out. 😞

Anyway, this story was definitely my treat for getting through Covid once again! It was amazing! And I absolutely loved it! Bunch of my rambling thoughts below. 😁❤️

The feeling of Dean’s warm, big hand around hers brought a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a while. Even if she didn’t know he was Sam’s brother, Dean would be a person she would trust immediately. He just had that aura.

He does just give that aura, I can't imagine anyone not being made to feel utterly safe with Dean nearby! 😍

She didn’t think she’d ever met someone as handsome as Sam’s brother. He looked like he came directly from the pages of a magazine, a Hollywood movie or something. In his jeans and a worn-out oversized leather jacket, he was simply stunning. She couldn’t help but avert his piercing gaze, feeling suddenly shy with the intensity of it.

I'm still not sure how anyone ever exists in a normal day-to-day existence with this man around! I think of all the things in the show that force the audience to suspend their belief, the idea that people can just continue to function normally with Dean right beside them is the hardest to swallow. 😁

“Ugh”, she complained, getting on her tiptoes so she could search inside a high cupboard, “I could’ve sworn those plates were somewhere in here”.

😄 I feel her short person's frustration.

“I said you’re nice, smart and handsome, but I forgot the most important part: you’re funny too!”, she exclaimed, playfully punching his arm.

A very important part of Dean's overall appeal actually. In the show people are always giving him looks to say like, 🙄 "That wasn't funny." or just being like 😒. But I always think he's funny! He doesn't get enough credit for his sense of humour! ❤️

...He texted me back ‘can’t make it, stuck at work’”, she chuckled, humorlessly. “The bastard didn’t even say he was sorry. So I paid him the same respect he paid me. I texted back, saying he shouldn’t bother showing up ever again, that I didn’t wanna see his face and it was all over between us. He never answered”, Maisie finished, taking a deep breath.

Hooray!! Way to go, Maisie! Though, I worry for her. I have a feeling he isn't going to accept that graciously! 😬

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face, and Dean slid his hand to the small of her back, supporting her and bringing her close to his body, when- The sound of a loud honk startled them both, pulling them out of their lust haze.

I knew it!! If I didn't already hate him, I sure as hell hate him for interrupting that kiss!! 😡

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, bitch!”, he yelled, his grip making it impossible for her to free herself of his hold.

From "darling" to "bitch" in two seconds flat. What a friggin' charmer this guy is!! 😡

“I want this to happen, whatever this is, between you and me. I want… to get to know you. If you want to, that is. But I need to make sure it has nothing to do with Eric. With me being in need of comfort, or company, or about you protecting me from him - which I’m thankful for, by the way.

VERY smart thinking on her part, very logical. Yet, I fear that could never be me. 😄 I don't think I'd ever have the willpower. She's absolutely right though. Gotta be sure, don't wanna ruin something so perfect just cause she got the timing wrong. ❤️

He quickly recovered, placing a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss a little and guiding her into it, sliding his lower lip over hers and lightly sucking it.

“Yeah”, Sam let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Eric broke in early in the morning, Maisie was still sleeping. He was drunk and screaming that they should get back together. She said no and told him to leave, so he started to lock all the doors and windows to stop her from escaping.

How completely terrifying!! 🥺🥺

She’d just been through a terrible trauma and, as a pro at avoiding feelings and acting like nothing wrong had happened, Dean knew exactly what she was doing.

I love him for that. ❤️❤️ It's exactly the kind of good man he is. But also - 😩 I feel for Maisie!! There's so much delicious tension here between them! It's so palpable! 🥵🥵

It also helped that I’m much taller than him”, he smirked, making Dean chuckle.

😄😄 Sam!! I love him!

“Take your shirt off, Dean”, she demanded, and he quickly obeyed. Maisie stared at him towering over her, his toned body looking godly under the dim lights of the room.

Oh my god!! That is the dream!! Dean Winchester mostly naked (okay, totally naked is better) and towering above me. 🥵🥵

“Tell me, Dean”, Maisie encouraged him, wanting to hear more of that deep, sexy voice of his saying dirty things to her.

Don't we all! Dean Winchester talking dirty is the hottest porn EVER!! 🥵🥵

Maisie was not happy with the fact that he didn’t look for Dean, and she had a suspicion that was the reason they fought.

You an me both, Mais! That was the only thing Sam ever did that TRULY pissed me off. I was very glad that he eventually admitted how wrong it had been and told Dean how sorry he was for it. Like, Dean, I forgave him, but I was SO mad!

I'm so interested to see how he's going to be with her!

“I- I love you too, Maisie. I didn’t realize how much until I couldn’t be with you”.

Yes!!!!! They admitted it! I was so worried too much time was going to have passed, or he was going to be too different, or something. But I'm SO happy that he just needed to get home to her!! ❤️

Dean watches as Lily’s eyelids got heavier and heavier as he finishes the story. When she finally falls asleep, her little hand still holding his thumb tightly, he gently pushes her hair, as dark as her mom’s, out of her face. His movements are delicate, but she opens her big green eyes that look so much like his, and stares at him briefly, before falling asleep again.

Dean as a girl dad is my ultimate happy headcanon! I just think he'd be an amazing Dad, period - but to a little girl?!!! A little girl with dark hair and green eyes?!! I'm gone! 😍😍

“Just for two or three minutes. I arrived when you were telling her about how you fell in love with me from the first time you saw me”, she revealed, looking up at him and blushing.

Okay, I absolutely LOVE that he was telling Lily their love story! 😍🥹

Once she’s old enough, she’s gonna know how her dad went through hell and Purgatory, and how her mom was the reason he came back every time.

All. the. tears. 😭😭😭

Astounding!! This story was so sweet and full. I love all the details, I love the way their love is both immediate and blooming. Like, they know immediately that it's something special, but they both work hard to make sure the moment is right for them. Like, I said, I love that they neither of them wants to blow it by starting something so perfect before it's the perfect time for them too.

I'm so happy for their happy ending! I loved this, my friend! Again, I'm so sorry it took me SO long to have the chance to read it! Rest assured, I'll be reading it again!! ❤️❤️

Dean x OFC: Short and Sweet

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Maisie (OFC)

Warnings: +18. Trigger warnings: Abusive relationship. Emotional negligence. Physical abuse. OFC’s boyfriend is a jackass. Smut. P in V. Unprotected sex (it’s fiction, people). Porn but also fluff and romantic, because it’s me.

Summary: When Dean was introduced to one of Sam’s old friends from Stanford, he didn’t expect his whole world to change.

Word count: ~15K (I’M SO SORRY, IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I WROTE SOMETHING, OKAY)

A/N 1: This story is set during the first seasons, probably around year 4. Don’t know exactly how long it would’ve taken Sam to finish Stanford, but I believe it would be around four years, so let’s imagine the brothers are young. Dean’s behavior in the beginning is also more like in the first seasons, so bear with me.

A/N 2: I have my very first original character! That’s scary. The image of her came to my mind so clearly, I couldn’t just ignore it. I kept writing and imagining her, it couldn’t be Y/N this time. It sucks that I can’t draw a straight line to save my life, ‘cause I wanted so badly to draw her so you guys can see her the way I do!

Anyways, I hope this story doesn’t suck too much. I wrote three versions of it before deciding this one was the best way to tell it.

A/N 3: I started writing this fic in May, 2022, and could only finish it now. The plan was to post it on Dean’s birthday, but it wasn’t possible, unfortunately. Life has been chill lol.

Enjoy the reading and don’t forget to leave feedback!

MASTERLIST

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The first time Dean saw her, was in a picture. The corners of the photo were in shreds; it was folded in the middle, forever creased from being kept inside Sam’s wallet for so long. Despite its poor state, Dean would never forget it.

"Hey, Dean", Sam had called.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about going to a party?"

Dean, who had been searching for a clean shirt in his duffel bag, immediately stopped what he was doing, turning around and staring at his younger brother.

"Excuse me? Are you feeling ok?", he asked, brow raised.

"Seriously, dude”, Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “It's a friend's party", he let his arms fall on his sides, exasperated.

"What friend? You don't have any friends", Dean mocked.

"I do, actually. This is Maisie", he extended the crumpled photo to Dean. It showed a younger Sam during his Stanford era, standing next to Jessica and another girl, whom Sam was pointing at. "I met her in college. She's graduating now, so she invited me over for a party at her house. She knows we’re in California".

Dean looked at the picture with growing interest. The younger version of Sam was smiling in the photo, with Jessica standing between him and the other girl. Sam had his arm around Jess’ shoulders, and the girl had her arm linked with the blonde’s. They were all smiling. Maisie, Sam said that was the girl’s name. She had brown hair, styled in a pixie cut that gave her an edgy look. Her big, rounded eyes were brown too. Her cheeks were flushed and her captivating smile reached her eyes. It wasn’t a full body picture, but Dean could tell the girl was short, because Jessica was way taller than her.

"She's cute”, he elbowed Sam. “Is she single?”

"Dude, no. She has a boyfriend, but he’s a douchebag. His name’s Eric and they met in Stanford too". Sam shrugged, making a disgusted face.

"Huh. And what's so special about her that makes you want to go to her party?". Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, ready to hear the answer.

"Maisie’s the nicest girl, Dean. She introduced me to Jess. They were friends first, I met her and then it was the three of us against the world”, Sam smiled, reminiscing about a special time of his life. “I miss her a lot. Remember I went to a friend’s parents’ funeral, like, two years ago? It was her mom and dad. Poor girl’s been through hell. Also… she knows about what we do", Sam said, grimacing and lowering his voice, as if he was confessing a crime.

"What?", Dean was surprised with the fact that Sam told someone about their biggest secret.

"I helped her with a witch once. She hid hex bags all over Maisie’s dorm. That’s how we met, actually. So I ended up telling her", he shrugged.

"Oh, well, one day you’re gonna have to tell me the whole story of the witch of Stanford. Anyways, I didn't know you were still in touch with people from college", Dean stated.

Sam sighed. "Actually, Maisie’s the only one I still talk to. But, look, Dean, if you don't wanna go, fine. I’ll go alone".

"Wait, who said I don't wanna go? Of course I wanna go! Hot chicks and free booze? When do we leave?", said Dean, rubbing his hands together and grinning.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

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The first time Dean saw her in person, he won’t forget either.

He and Sam arrived at Maisie’s when it was just getting dark. Her house was small but cozy looking, and the path leading to the spacious backyard was decorated with hanging light bulbs. Dean could hear voices and the clink of glasses, along with some music, coming from the back.

“This is the house her parents left for her”, Sam explained.

“How did they die?”, Dean asked, closing the Impala’s door and walking to his brother’s side.

“Car accident. Pretty awful”, Sam shook his head, pausing when he saw someone coming from the end of the lighted path as they stepped on the entryway.

Having heard the sound of the car, Maisie came to check. Dean was right: she was short. He found it cute. Her face lit up when she saw Sam and, as the old friends hugged, he couldn’t help but notice her toned, thick legs. She was wearing a light green summer dress with little white flowers drawn all over it, matched with a pair of white Chuck Taylors.

Don’t know why, but I already like everything about her, Dean thought, watching the girl with growing interest.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sam!", Maisie greeted, holding the younger Winchester’s hand.

"I'm glad to be here too, Maisie. Congratulations!", Sam gave her another quick side hug, making the girl smile grow wider.

"Thanks! I'm a lawyer now, so you know who to call if you ever need one", she winked at him, hinting at their little secret.

"Well, if he doesn't call you, I certainly will", Dean interrupted the friends’ conversation, since Sam hadn’t introduced him yet.

"Oh, sorry, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is Maisie", Sam said, finally.

"Nice to meet you, Maisie", Dean shook her hand, eyes taking in her beautiful, soft features.

"Nice to meet you too, Dean. Sam told me a lot about you", she said, remembering all the times Sam mentioned his brother, always with love and admiration.

"Only good things, I hope", Dean joked, winking at her. He deliberately let his fingers linger a little, the softness of her skin drawing him in.

"Oh, yeah! You’re the best brother ever, apparently", she shot back, earning a grin from him.

"He's right about that", was Dean’s reply, and it made Maisie laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever met someone as handsome as Sam’s brother. He looked like he came directly from the pages of a magazine, a Hollywood movie or something. In his jeans and a worn-out oversized leather jacket, he was simply stunning. She couldn’t help but avert his piercing gaze, feeling suddenly shy with the intensity of it.

"So, Maisie, where's Eric?", Sam asked. Not that he cared about the guy; he was just asking because he knew Eric from before. It would be weird not to ask.

"Oh, he- uh, he had a work thing, so-", she tried to explain, tugging an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, nervously.

"He didn’t come", Sam finished, incredulous. Even though he was already familiar with the way Eric seemed to undervalue the important moments of Maisie’s life, he couldn’t help but hope the guy had finally changed.

Her eyes became teary, and Dean hated seeing her like this.

Noticing Dean’s gaze, she recomposed herself, chuckling humorlessly. "Yeah, you guessed it right. But it doesn’t matter, I’ve already dealt with that”. Without giving any more details, she clapped her hands together and looked from one brother to another, shoving the resentment over Eric’s actions down. “So, you guys want some beer?", she pointed over her shoulder to the inside of the house.

"I'm fine for now, thanks. I'm gonna go say hi to the rest of the gang", answered Sam, looking over his shoulder to the corner of the house, where he could see some of his old classmates among Maisie's guests hanging out in the backyard.

"I'll take that beer", said Dean. Not only he never said no to a beer before, but he also hoped to spend some time with her. For some reason, he took an immediate liking to Maisie. She seemed very nice. And she was pretty.

"Great! Come with me", she said, turning and gesturing for him to follow.

Once inside, Dean noticed right away that the outside of the house gave a perfectly good idea of how the inside looked. The place was cozy, small and neat. He didn’t remember ever being in a typical countryside home, but he was pretty sure it would look somewhat like Maisie’s home, maybe a little bigger.

He looked around while she opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles, opening them, giving one to Dean and leaning against the kitchen counter. When she led the bottle to her lips, Dean noticed that her right hand was bandaged.

"What happened to your hand, if you don't mind me asking?", he questioned, taking a sip of the cold beverage.

"Oh, I hurt it while I was hanging the lights. The ones at the entrance. Eric was supposed to help me but, as you know, he didn’t show up, so…", she left the sentence incomplete, shrugging as if it was nothing, but Dean could tell she was upset about it.

"It seems like your boyfriend is not very… present", he commented, trying to take it easy on his disapproving tone, but failing to do it.

"Yeah, you can say that", Maisie replied, her voice barely audible.

“Sorry about that”, Dean said and approached her, gently holding her hand and looking at the bandage, just to make sure she dressed the wound properly.

The girl felt her heart racing. She knew Dean and Sam got hurt a lot. Their job was scary and dangerous, so Dean was probably just seeing if she had taken good care of the wound. But that was exactly what made her heart skip a couple of beats. I mean, how sweet is it that he barely knows me and is being so nice already?, she thought.

Maisie felt an urge to get closer to him, to open her heart and let him in. The last time she did that was with Eric, and it hasn’t worked well. But, somehow, she knew Dean was different.

“I wish that was the worst thing he’d done”, she said, more to herself than to Dean.

“Sorry?”, Dean raised his head, still holding her hand.

“E- Eric, I mean. He also didn’t come to my parents’ funeral’, she explained, knowing it was too late to ask Dean to let it go. Might as well finish what I’ve started.

"Wow. I'm sorry, but that's fucked up, Maisie". A mixture of anger and pity, that was what Dean was feeling. Maisie was a good person, based on what Sam said. And even if she weren’t, what kind of boyfriend doesn't go to his girlfriend's parents' funeral?

"I'm sorry, Dean. I- I don't know why I said that out loud", she took her injured hand away from his and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples, rubbing lightly. She didn’t want his pity. She wasn’t sure of why she shared that particular story with him, but she was regretting it now.

"No, it's fine. It's not okay that he wasn't there. Or that he ain't here", he added, standing by her side and leaning against the counter too.

"Yeah. But it’s ok. Thanks for saying that, though. Should we go outside?", she asked and forced a smile, deciding it was best to enjoy the night and forget about things that weren’t as good as she wanted.

Dean shrugged. "I wouldn't mind staying here talking to you for a bit more, but yeah, let's go".

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Another thing Dean would never forget was how easy and fun that night was.

Most of it was because of Maisie. She was such a good hostess, always making sure people were comfortable, well fed and with their cups full.

Her guests involved some friends and former colleagues, along with two cousins; no more than a dozen people. Everyone was nice and friendly, and Dean could tell Sam was enjoying being amongst people he knew outside the hunting world. For a moment, his mind wandered: how would life be if they were normal, 20-something dudes? Would they go to a lot of parties? Would Sam and Jess be married by now?

Despite the wandering thoughts, Dean was having fun too. Maisie included him in every conversation. He was the outsider, after all. She sat by his side and touched his hand and arm often, not letting him close himself off or feel intimidated by the group of Stanford’s nerds, as she was calling her friends, which made Dean chuckle.

As the night went on, Dean felt more and more drawn to her. Hell, he knew getting involved with someone who was in what it seemed like a complicated relationship was the fastest way to walk right into a huge problem. But he couldn’t care less this time. He wanted Maisie, and he had a feeling she might want him too.

So Dean flirted with her a few times, trying not to be too obvious. He didn’t want her thinking he was just trying to get laid, because he wasn’t. His first goal was to make her feel wanted and valued. He had a feeling Eric didn’t do that very often.

When the pizzas she'd ordered arrived, he got up from his seat and offered to help bringing them to the backyard.

"Thanks, Dean", she smiled at him, accepting the offer and assessing his face, trying to understand why he was being so nice.

"No worries, sweetheart".

The endearment made her blush. Maisie was finding it hard to believe Dean was real. He was too handsome for his own good. From the freckled skin to the dark blonde hair and the green eyes, he was damn perfect. Plus, he was funny and nice to everyone. She was fascinated with him.

Deciding she might as well enjoy the attention she wasn’t used to getting, she hooked her arm in his and led him to the front yard, where the delivery guy was waiting.

They grabbed the pizzas and went inside the house again. Dean waited while Maisie was looking for some paper plates.

“Ugh”, she complained, getting on her tiptoes so she could search inside a high cupboard, “I could’ve sworn those plates were somewhere in here”.

Smiling at her efforts to reach a door that was way too high for her height, Dean walked to her, extending his arm and easily retrieving the plates and handing them to Maisie.

She smiled and crossed her arms in front of her chest, which made Dean stare at her boobs for like two seconds. He couldn’t really help himself. She didn’t seem to notice, and was faking annoyance with the fact that he was so much taller than her.

“That was a little humiliating, Winchester, but thanks for the help”, she joked, taking the plates and patting his arm lightly.

He laughed. “Sure. What kind of man would I be if I saw a pretty lady in distress and had done nothing about it?”, Dean teased a little more, making her smile widen.

“What a gentleman!”, Maisie shook her head, motioning for him to follow her outside.

In the backyard, they placed the pizzas on a table at the corner and Maisie gave each guest a plate, inviting them to help themselves to the food. She and Dean grabbed a slice each and went back to sit at their previous chairs.

“Tell me, Dean”, she started, after swallowing a considerably big bite of her slice, “how are you single?”.

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong”, she continued, noticing he was surprised with the sudden question. “You’re a nice, smart guy. You have a cool car - yes, I’ve seen her when you guys arrived, and Sam told me all about your Baby -,” she added when he smiled, pleased to know she noticed his most beloved possession, “and you’re obviously very good looking. And yet, you’re here, hanging out with your brother’s friend, in a party full of Law school nerds. Why aren’t you out there, at some cool bar, flirting with some tall, busty blonde?”. Maisie shook her head, honestly trying to find some explanation for why Dean was there, at her house, where he could literally be fooling around with any woman in town.

Dean chuckled, and Maisie found it cute how his ears turned red when she complimented him.

“Well, first of all, thanks. Second of all, don’t think so little of yourself. Sam told me you know what we do for a living”, he whispered the last part, getting closer to her, and his hot breath formed goosebumps on her skin. “So you also know we don’t usually go to normal parties. Fuck, who am I kidding? We never go to any party, period. That being said, it’s been fun hanging out with you and your friends. Especially with you. It’s nice to talk about normal stuff, being around normal people”, he shrugged, and she could see he was being honest. Maisie felt sorry for him. He had to face so many scary, dangerous things, and could never enjoy a break, something as simple as eating pizza and drinking beer with friends in the backyard.

“Also”, he continued talking, bringing her back from her thoughts, “I had my time with busty blondes in bars. Now I prefer to hang out with pretty girls who happen to have good taste in beer”. Dean winked at her, biting at his lower lip, gaze switching from her eyes to her lips, making Maisie feel her insides clench.

Damn, he’s hot, she thought.

“So, I guess the reason why I’m single, aside from the life I live, I mean, is that all the beautiful girls who just graduated are stuck with jerks for boyfriends”.

Maisie laughed, finding his unashamed flirtation amusing.

“I said you’re nice, smart and handsome, but I forgot the most important part: you’re funny too!”, she exclaimed, playfully punching his arm.

He smiled back, and she shook her head, looking down and becoming serious again.

“I broke up with Eric, Dean”, Maisie confessed, surprising Dean.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Earlier today, before you and Sam arrived, I texted him, because everyone else was already here, except for Eric. He texted me back ‘can’t make it, stuck at work’”, she chuckled, humorlessly. “The bastard didn’t even say he was sorry. So I paid him the same respect he paid me. I texted back, saying he shouldn’t bother showing up ever again, that I didn’t wanna see his face and it was all over between us. He never answered”, Maisie finished, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Maisie. But, for what’s worth, I think you did the right thing. He doesn’t deserve you”, Dean stated, green eyes staring into her dark ones, the intensity of his stare making her heart race.

“Our relationship was over way before today, to be honest. But thanks for saying that, Dean”.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart”.

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Around 11:30 P.M., people started to leave. Sam, Dean and one of Maisie’s cousins were the only ones still there.

Maisie was leaning against the table, chatting with her cousin and stealing glances at Sam and Dean. They were helping her put all the trash that was scattered around the backyard in a bag. Dean noticed she told something to the girl and pointed her chin in their direction, walking towards them a second later, towing the cousin by the girl’s hand.

“Sam”, Maisie called, making Sam get up from where he was crouched, picking up some plastic cups and dirty napkins from the floor.

“Can you do me a favor and drive Betty home? She lives on the other side of town with our aunt Theresa, who’s an old lady and can’t be alone for too long. Would you give her a ride, please, so she doesn’t have to wait for a cab?”, Maisie explained.

“Of course!”, Sam agreed immediately, looking at Dean, who was already fishing the car keys from the front pocket of his jeans. They both noticed that Maisie asked for Sam to give Betty a ride home, and not Dean, so she obviously wanted him to stay.

Sam caught the keys Dean tossed at him, and Dean watched the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk. Sam didn’t say anything, but he knew his older brother well, and he also knew Maisie. He’d noticed their behavior the whole night and how they got along. Him driving Maisie’s cousin to the other side of town was the perfect excuse for them to be alone.

After Sam left with Betty and they were done cleaning up, Dean tied the trash bag and placed it on the side of the house. Maisie was waiting for him at the backdoor, holding some leftover pizza and the paper plates that weren’t used.

They both entered the small kitchen and Dean leaned against the counter, watching while she silently put everything back in its place.

"So", he started, getting her attention, "that was a good party".

"Thanks", Maisie replied, smiling. "I'm glad you guys came. I mean, I finally got to meet the famous Dean Winchester", she joked, that beautiful blush rising on her cheeks again.

He chuckled, lowering his head and scratching his neck. Maisie only knew Dean for a few hours and she already noticed the gesture meant he was nervous. She found it cute.

"Don't know about the famous part, but I'm glad I got to know you too", he stated while she walked to lean on the counter by his side.

"Yeah? What is it about me that made you glad to be here?", she asked, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

Dean decided to go along with her flirting. She was hot, sexy in a very particular way. She was small, with thick legs, wide hips and a round, ample ass. Her short hair made her look younger than she actually was, and the big rounded eyes added to it. All of that only added to the fact that she was sweet, kind, and funny.

“Huh, let’s see. You’re pretty impressive. I mean, you went through with college, became a lawyer, despite all the shit that happened in your life”, he pondered. “That alone is already awesome. Also ‘cause you’re obviously important to Sam. He wouldn’t come to anyone’s party. Thanks for being a good friend to my brother, by the way”. Dean took her injured hand in his, rubbing her fingers lightly with his thumb.

“You’re welcome”, she said in a low voice. “He’s a great dude”.

“Yeah, he is”, Dean agreed, the pride obvious in his tone. “Oh, how I wish all Sammy’s friends were as easy on the eyes as you are”, he shook his head and tsked, as if he was stating something very, very serious and upsetting.

That made her laugh out loud. She came closer to him, still chuckling, and raised her head to stare into his beautiful green eyes. Dean placed one hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her soft skin, while he kept the other hand on the counter, caging Maisie between his body and the furniture.

Her stare went to his lips and back to his eyes in a quick, almost imperceptible movement. She wanted to kiss him so badly. Her heart was racing, pounding against her chest.

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face, and Dean slid his hand to the small of her back, supporting her and bringing her close to his body, when-

The sound of a loud honk startled them both, pulling them out of their lust haze.

“What the hell-?”, Maisie cursed, walking to the front door to see who was making such a loud noise that late at night.

Dean followed her to see a blue Prius parked in front of her house. The driver’s door opened widely and a guy got out of the car, stumbling.

“Eric?”, Maisie exclaimed, wide-eyed. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come!”, she said while walking to him, doing her best to keep her voice down and not wake up the neighbors.

The guy came tripping on his own feet, raising his hands as a peace offering. “I know, darling, I saw your text. But I wanted to apologize. I was such a fool-”

“No, no, no”, Maisie interrupted him, raising her own hand to stop Eric mid-speech. “I won’t accept your apology this time, Eric. Just- just go home. You’re obviously drunk, I’m gonna call you a cab”, she turned her back to him, wanting to go inside the house and make the call, but he grabbed her arm, making her stop.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, bitch!”, he yelled, his grip making it impossible for her to free herself of his hold.

“Let go of me!”, Maisie demanded, turning around and trying to pull her arm, but he grabbed the other one, yanking her closer.

“I won’t let you break up with me!”, he screamed, his face contorting in a mug.

Everything was happening so fast. Maisie tried to take a step back and kick Eric between his legs, but Dean was faster; her was by her side in a second, shoving Eric away and putting himself between the drunk man and Maisie.

“Get away from her, asshole!”, he threatened, pointing a finger to Eric’s face, his other hand splayed on the guy’s chest to stop him from getting to Maisie.

“And who the hell are you?”, Eric questioned, in a drunk drawl, looking from Dean to Maisie, who was rubbing her arms where he had left red marks on her fair skin.

“Doesn’t matter who I am, she asked you to leave, so leave!”, Dean pushed him again, making Eric stumble in the direction of the parked car.

“Oh, so you’re fucking her? Just ‘cause I didn’t come to her stupid party with her stupid nerd friends, she’s already spreading her legs to another dude? I always knew you were a slut!”, Eric spat on the driveway, turning around and running to his car when Dean got closer to him, ready to throw a punch.

“Let him go, Dean. He’s not worth it”, Maisie asked, placing a hand on his back, and Dean stopped.

“Jackass”, Dean said while the other man cowardly drove away, tires screeching.

Dean turned around and went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and assessing the bruises in both her arms. “Jesus Christ, Maisie, he hurt you. Are you ok?”.

“I’m- I’m ok. God, Dean, he’s super drunk. He’s gonna kill himself in that car”, Maisie said, worried. Tears were running freely down her face.

Dean was much more worried about her than about that piece of crap. But he understood her concern, and didn’t want Maisie to be even more stressed out than she already was.

“Let’s go inside and call the police, sweetheart. We can let them know there’s a drunk dude driving around”, he offered, and she accepted, leaning into his embrace.

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Fifteen minutes later, they had talked to the police and reported Eric. Maisie refused to go to a police station and file a report on his assault. Dean argued, but she promised it was all over between them, that she wouldn’t let Eric be anywhere near her again.

“Besides, he’s probably gonna be arrested for DUI anyways”, she shrugged, not at all feeling sorry for her ex-boyfriend’s future problems with the police.

So Dean made her a cup of tea and they sat on the couch, him helping her put some ice on her bruised arms.

“You sure you’re ok?”, he asked for what had to be the tenth time.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine”, she answered, sniffing.

Dean watched her closer, just to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything.

“Hey, Maisie. Let me ask you something”, he started, and she nodded, signaling he could go ahead. “Has he ever- was he ever violent with you- before?”

She shook her head, but the fresh wave of tears in her eyes told Dean there was a “but” coming. “H-he broke a glass once, when he was really drunk, like today. We argued for the same reason: he wasn’t around when I needed him. I called him out for it, he got mad and threw a glass against the wall. But he never- put his hands on me like this before”, she explained.

Dean slid closer to her, gently catching her tears with his fingertips. “Good. I was afraid it wasn’t the first time he hurt you”.

“Yeah, no, he’s never done that before. Just, you know, didn’t show up, cheated on me and stuff like that”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He cheated on you? Just when I thought he couldn’t be a bigger pile of shit”, Dean shook his head, jaw clenching.

She sighed deeply before answering. “He cheated once, that I know of. And I was stupid enough to forgive him and let him come back”.

“But- I mean, don’t get me wrong here, but… why haven’t you told him to fuck off then?”

Maisie chuckled at Dean’s question. “I guess I was so used to having him around… I mean, we started dating in my first year of college. Things were good between us, as far as I know, except for one or two things here and there. Then, my parents died and he didn’t come to their service. We had an argument that day, and it was the first time I thought about breaking up with him. My friends warned me, Sam included, but I was so scared of being alone, Dean”, she confessed, looking him in the eyes for the first time in a while. “I had just lost the two most important people in my life. I had no close family around, aside from Betty and aunt Theresa. I didn’t wanna lose Eric too, so I thought I should forgive him, make an effort on behalf of our relationship. It was stupid of me, I know”, she finished, covering her face with her hands, regretting her past decision.

“Hey, hey, no”, Dean called, reaching for her, circling her shoulders with one arm so he could give her a side hug. Maisie melted, leaning her cheek on his chest and exhaling a shaky sigh.

He kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back. “You did nothing wrong. Sorry if my question made you think you did. It’s just- you’re such a great girl. I was having a hard time understanding why you were with a guy like him. But I see it now. I know it sucks to feel alone, like you have no one to be your home. I hope you know you don’t need him, Mais”.

Dean parted from her and placed his large hand on her chin, lifting her face up to look her in the eyes. “You’re beautiful, funny, smart, and you have friends all around that love you, sweetheart”, he caressed her jawline with his thumb, the rough pads of his fingers sending a shiver down her spine.

“I like when you say that”, she confessed, smiling under the tears.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “When I say what?”, he asked with a mischievous smirk.

“When you call me sweetheart. And ‘Mais’. Nobody ever called me that. I like the nickname. And I like hearing you say ‘sweetheart’”, she blushed furiously, to Dean’s amusement.

“Oh, good to know it makes you blush so prettily”, Dean teased, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers. He led their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, those green eyes never leaving her face.

Maisie’s teary eyes darkened. She wanted him so badly it was overwhelming, but it wasn’t the right moment.

“Dean, I-”

“Sorry”, he interrupted, letting go of her hand and running his fingers through his hair, spiking the soft strands even more. “I just thought- that you and I-”.

“Dean, hear me out”, she placed a finger over his plump lips, effectively shushing him. “I want this to happen, whatever this is, between you and me. I want… to get to know you. If you want to, that is. But I need to make sure it has nothing to do with Eric. With me being in need of comfort, or company, or about you protecting me from him - which I’m thankful for, by the way. I broke up with him and I’m fine with that, ready to forget all about him. Still, I need some time to gather my thoughts, to really understand how I’m feeling, what I’m feeling”, she paused there, grabbing her mug from the coffee table and taking a sip of tea. “I’m probably being so ridiculous right now, but I… I felt something for you the minute I saw you, Dean”, she gulped, scared about how he would react to her confession. If Maisie wasn’t always so rational, she would’ve probably taken things further with Dean that night. But she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair with either of them. Still, she knew, in her heart and mind, that she’d never met anyone who made her feel like that before.

Adorably, his ears turned red again. “Bashful” wasn’t an adjective she would use to describe Dean right away - especially because he flirted with her two minutes after they met. But she could already tell he was a complex character, and that was another thing about Sam’s older brother that drew her to him.

“I understand. I also felt something when I saw you earlier today… actually, when Sam showed me a picture of you, I was like ‘damn, she’s gorgeous’”, he revealed, grinning, and Maisie blushed with the compliment.

“Thank you, Dean. That’s very nice of you to say”, she replied, placing her hand over his on the couch. He turned his palm up and laced their fingers again.

“It’s true, though”, he shrugged, and they just sat there for a few minutes, staring at their joined hands until the sound of Dean’s phone made them jump slightly.

He got the phone from the coffee table. “Sam wants to know if he should come back to pick me up”, Dean read the text, looking up at Maisie with a questioning look.

She stared back at him with those big, doe eyes, and he immediately knew he should stay. Understandably, she wasn’t very comfortable with being alone.

“So, is it ok if I stay?”, Dean asked, making sure he got her right.

“I- I can’t ask more from you, Dean. You’ve done so much for me today-”

“No, no, no”, he interrupted, squeezing her hand in reassurance, “I’d rather stay, if that’s ok with you. I’ll feel better knowing you’re ok. I’ll tell Sam to go back to the motel and pick me up in the morning”. Dean smiled and Maisie smiled back, relieved.

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“I can sleep on the couch, you know”, Dean said for the second time, while walking behind Maisie.

“No way, I have a guest room. I mean, it’s not much, it’s just the room that used to be mine, since now I sleep in the room that was my parents’”, she explained, opening the door and entering her former bedroom.

Three walls were painted in a pale lilac, while the fourth one, behind the bed, was purple. The marks on the painting signaled that there were posters or pictures glued there, probably from Maisie’s teenage years.

It was a spacious room with a big, comfy bed. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he slept in one of those. He was glad for the comfort, but wished the circumstances were different. He wished Maisie didn’t need to be kept safe from a piece of crap like Eric.

“You think you’re gonna be ok in here?”, she interrogated, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hell, yeah”, he said, walking to the bed. “Sweetheart, if you saw the places Sam and I usually crash… this is a freaking palace!”

Maisie chuckled. “Good. There’s some blankets in the closet and towels, if you wanna shower. I’m gonna go to bed now. My room is next door, so just knock if you need something, ok? And make yourself at home”, she said, opening her arms and approaching to give Dean a hug.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. I’ll be fine”.

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The first time they shared a bed was forever ingrained into Dean’s brain.

Dean woke up with a knock on his door. He listened for a second, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or imagining things.

Then he heard the knock again, followed by Maisie’s voice calling his name almost in a whisper. “Dean, can I come in?”

He sat up on the bed and told her to come in. She immediately opened the door, looking scared and pale.

“What’s wrong?”, Dean asked, patting on the bed by his side, signaling for her to sit.

“I- I had a nightmare, Dean”, she sat and he could see she was shaking. He held her cold hand, listening attentively. “He- he came for me again. I- I don’t wanna… Can I stay with you?”, she asked, looking up at him with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart. Come here”, he said, laying on the bed and stretching his arm for her to fit by his side. She lifted the covers and laid down with her head against his chest, legs slotted close to his.

Dean engulfed her in his warmth, noticing she looked even shorter laying by his side, scared and vulnerable. He silently cursed Eric for making her feel like this.

Placing his arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, lips slightly brushing the top of her head.

“It’s gonna be ok, Maisie. I won’t let anything happen to you”.

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Dean didn’t know what woke him up the next morning. But, before even opening his eyes, he felt a warm, soft body against his. His mind filled the blanks in seconds, reminding him of everything that happened the day before, and how he ended up being someone’s big spoon.

Opening his eyes slowly, he didn’t dare to move an inch. His left arm was around Maisie’s waist, fingers laced with hers once more while she held his hand against her stomach. Somehow, both of her legs were trapped between his, slightly bended knees making her perfectly round butt fit to his front, enticingly close to his crotch.

Well, now he was very awake. Every inch of his body was fully awake. He wasn’t exactly used to waking up with a woman in his arms. It happened before, obviously, but he usually didn’t sleep, sleep with them. They would do the deed and he would leave. Or they would. So, yeah, Dean was finding it hard (pun intended) to know what to do to keep that sweet, sweet woman from thinking he was a perv.

He took his time appreciating the sensual curve of Maisie’s neck, her round, soft shoulders, and the dip of her waist, leading to her ample hips.

Behave, man. A voice in his head, that sounded remarkably like Sam’s, scolded him.

A few minutes passed and Dean remained still, listening to Maisie’s deep breaths. And then she started slowly moving, slowly waking up from what he hoped had been a restful sleep.

“Hmm”, she hummed, stretching her body and consequently pushing it closer to Dean’s.

“Morning”, he greeted, holding his breath.

“Morning”, Maisie replied in a cute, sleepy voice. “Sorry for invading your personal space”, she continued, gently trying to untangle from him.

“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it a lot”, he affirmed, smiling when she turned her neck to look at him.

“Me too. Thank you for staying, Dean”, she said, reaching to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anytime, sweetheart”.

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The first time they kissed was totally unexpected.

They had breakfast together and Sam came to pick Dean up at around 10 AM.

Dean had promised Maisie they would come back to visit her as soon as possible, and made her promise to call and text so he would know she was ok. He also told her he planned to go to the police station and check if the cops really got to Eric.

Maisie walked him to the door when they heard the Impala’s honk.

“Ok, so I made you guys sandwiches for the trip, and some extra coffee”, she handed Dean a paper bag with the food, which he gladly accepted. “I also want to give you something else, as a thank you”.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mais-”, Dean started, but she interrupted by standing on her tiptoes and kissing on the lips, taking him by surprise. He quickly recovered, placing a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss a little and guiding her into it, sliding his lower lip over hers and lightly sucking it.

When they separated, she was flushed. “Wow. You were the one who was supposed to win the prize, but I guess I was the lucky one”, Maisie smiled, lips tingling.

“I hope this is enough to convince you to let me come back…”, Dean said, scratching his neck.

“I cannot wait for you to come back. Now, let’s go so I can say goodbye to Sam”, she held his hand and guided him through the door in the direction of the Impala, parked on the street.

Dean was already missing her. It was hard for him to explain even to himself, but he wanted to protect Maisie, to keep her safe. At the same time, her fierceness and determination, the way she held her head up high, showing everyone she could kick their asses, Dean’s included, made him want to push her against the nearest wall and have his way with her in a not-so-sweet manner.

One thing Dean was sure of: he wanted more of that. More of her. He didn’t know when he was coming back, but he had every intention to keep his promise. He hoped his crazy life would allow him.

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38 days later

When came back, things didn’t go the way he expected.

“Hey, Sammy”.

“Yeah”.

“So, I texted Maisie yesterday and asked if we could visit her. We’re done with this job and it’s not far from her. She said yes and invited us for lunch. Is that ok with ya?” Dean questioned without taking his eyes off the road.

“Sure”, the younger Winchester replied, proceeding to look at his brother with a smirk. “So you and Maisie have been in touch since you met her, huh?”

Dean glanced at him and shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… I was there when everything with Eric The Douchebag happened, so I kept checking to make sure she’s ok. Is that a problem?”, he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all”, Sam’s smirk got wider. “But if you like her, you can tell me, you know?”, he provoked, knowing Dean would straight away deny having feelings for the girl.

“What? I don’t like her like that!”, was Dean’s immediate answer, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“But why wouldn’t you like her? Is there something wrong with her?”, the younger brother continued, pushing Dean’s buttons and knowing he would end up telling the truth.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’s- she’s hot, funny, smart. She has great style, and she smells so good, man, and those big-”

“Ok, ok, ok!”, Sam interrupted, immediately regretting making Dean talk. “TMI, man. Let’s just go have lunch with Maisie”.

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3 hours later

When the Impala entered Maisie’s street, the Winchesters saw the police car and the ambulance parked in front of her house. Their hunter senses immediately went on full alert.

“Oh, fuck”, cursed Dean, parking on the other side of the street and taking the fake FBI badge Sam was already handing to him.

They both got out of the car and Dean was the first one to spot Maisie sitting on the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders while a paramedic finished assessing a cut on the left side of her forehead.

“You go check on her, I’ll talk to the cops”, said Sam, and Dean nodded, walking in the direction of the injured woman.

“Maisie”, he called while approaching the vehicle, his heart racing from both worry and relief to see she didn’t look seriously hurt.

“Dean!”, she exclaimed, getting up and throwing herself in his arms. Thankfully, that was the exact moment when the paramedic finished placing the dressing on her cut, otherwise she would have knocked the poor man out of the way.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”, he asked, hugging her tight and caressing her hair.

Maisie started crying the minute Dean finished his question.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here now, Sam’s here. I- We won’t let anything happen to you”, he shushed while she sobbed.

Dean took her hand and led her back to sit in the ambulance. Maisie was crying too much to speak anyways, so he looked at the paramedic, the silent question of what had happened evident on his concerned features.

“She was knocked out. Luckily, she was fast enough to dial 911 first, so they were able to get the guy on his way out. She’s gonna be fine. Just make sure she gets some rest and changes the dressing tomorrow, okay?”, the man explained, and Dean nodded and thanked him.

He didn’t need any further explanation to know who the guy who knocked her out was. Eric, for sure. Dean just knew from the way Maisie was acting, with how scared she looked. He felt rage rising inside his chest. He wanted to kill the motherfucker with his own hands. Break his teeth so he would learn how to behave like a decent person…

He kept holding Maisie in his arms and, as she started to calm down, Dean shoved his murderous thoughts down and directed his full attention to her.

“What do you wanna do, sweetheart? Do you wanna wait for the cops to finish with your house and go inside? Or do you wanna go somewhere else?”

“So- somewhere else, Dean, p-please. I don’t wanna go back in there. Not now”, she said between sobs.

Dean felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. If I get my hands on that bastard…

“Ok, let me just go tell Sam we’re going to a motel close to here, is that alright? Then you can shower and get some rest”, he questioned, looking into her brown eyes with gentleness and reassurance.

Maisie nodded and Dean placed a light kiss on her forehead. He walked to the front entrance of the girl’s house, where Sam was talking with two cops.

“Gentlemen”, he greeted. “Agent Perry, can I speak to you for a moment, please?”, he told Sam, using their fake FBI agents’ names.

The brothers walked away from the police officers, and Dean turned around to face Sam.

“I’m taking Maisie outta here, man. She doesn’t wanna stay. We’re going to that motel on the road that’s closer to here, the half-decent one. Did they tell you what the hell happened?”

“That’s my girl”, Dean interrupted, proudly.

Sam chuckled. “Well, yeah, she was lucky they were fast, because when he came back to her room, he saw her putting the phone down and knocked her out with a plant vase. She passed out and the cops got him trying to escape on foot, just around the corner. He’s facing assault and breaking and entering charges. Considering he already has a record for DUI, he’s gonna be busy for a while”.

“Good. Good. Okay, so we’re leaving. Will you meet us at the motel once you’re done here?”, Dean asked, knowing Sam would take care of everything so he could be with Maisie.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’ll see if I can have a little chat with Eric at the police station and tell him to stay the fuck away from Maisie, if he manages to get out of jail anytime soon”, Sam said.

“Thanks, brother. Give him your worst”.

Looking back at Maisie and seeing that the cops were asking her some more questions, Dean took the time to go inside and get her a change of clothes. He didn’t know exactly what she would like to wear, but he grabbed a pair of sweatpants, t-shirts and underwear, putting everything inside a bag.

He noticed the broken vase on the floor of her room, where the cops were working, photographing and cataloging the crime scene. Giving a deep sigh, he did his best to control that rage again. Sam would make sure to let Eric know he better stay away. Now, Dean had to focus on taking care of Maisie. That was the most important task.

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On their way to the motel, they stopped quickly at a diner so Dean could get some burgers for lunch. Maisie kept saying she wasn’t hungry, but he would try to convince her to eat, eventually.

At the motel’s front desk, he asked for two rooms: one with two single beds for him and Sam, and another with just one bed, for Maisie.

“Okay, honey, the two singles I can provide, but the only other room available is with a queen size bed, is that ok?”, the nice old lady at the front desk asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Dean answered.

He paid, got the keys, and went back to the Impala, where Maisie was waiting for him.

“All set, sweetheart. Should we go inside?”, he questioned, leaning down to look through the passenger window.

She nodded and they entered the first room, hers, together.

It was simple but apparently clean, recently renovated even. Dean was glad for it.

“Ok, Mais. I brought you some clothes, I’m gonna leave them here in case you wanna change. What do you wanna do now? Eat? Shower? Sleep? Talk to me?”, he offered, not trying to pressure her, but knowing it was good to push her into moving, doing something, instead of sinking into fear and sadness.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna take a shower first. Would you wait for me here?”, she asked, face bloated and stained with tears.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m only leaving if you tell me to”, he winked at her, making himself comfortable on a chair at the corner of the room.

Ten minutes later, Maisie left the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that reached the middle of her thighs. Dean couldn’t help but look at her smooth legs.

“Alright, should I leave now, or…?”, he asked, standing up and awkwardly trying to focus on her face and not on the fact that she looked so good wearing so little clothing.

“No”, said Maisie, walking up to Dean and stopping him from leaving by putting a hand on his chest. “I want you to stay with me, Dean”.

He looked at her hand splayed on his chest and then into her face, his heavy breathing revealing his uneasiness.

Maisie looked into his eyes, her own glistening with tears. “Thank you, Dean, again, for being here for me”, she said, sliding her small hand from his chest to his forearm, the delicate touch making him bite his lower lip.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier to stop what happened this morning, I-“

“Hey”, she stopped him again, this time taking her hand to his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against her soft fingers, “There’s no way you could’ve known what would happen”. To Dean’s surprise, Maisie took a step closer to him, still caressing his face, leaving no space between their bodies. “I need to confess, Dean, that I’ve been thinking about you all the time since we’ve first met”, she tangled her fingers through the hair on the back of Dean’s neck, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to be with you”, she continued, her lips a mere inch away from him, her warm breath pumping Dean’s blood right between his legs. “How it would be to have you so close, holding me, with nothing between us”. He felt her hardened nipples through her t-shirt and his, touching his abdomen. “What about you? Have you thought about me?”, she asked.

Once again, Dean’s resolution was hanging by a thread. Maisie was making very clear what she wanted, and Dean was torn between giving in to his own desire, and the small rational part of his brain telling him she was responding to trauma in an unhealthy way. “Every fucking second, sweetheart” he answered, honestly. The shine of lust in her eyes was what broke his attempt of being a better man. He held her face between his hand and leaned down, giving her a kiss that started tame, but then turned messy and full of want when he parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, making her moan into his mouth, responding with the same intensity.

Dean maneuvered them so he could sit on the bed and have her on his lap, legs around his waist. Running a hand over the smooth skin of her thigh, he stopped when his fingers were already under her t-shirt. Maisie pushed her breasts against his chest and sighed, while his lips went from her mouth to her collarbone, nibbling and sucking. She held his head as close as possible, trying everything to prevent him from stopping. Between her legs, she felt him hardening under his jeans, and she pressed herself further onto his lap.

“Fuck, Dean”, she moaned, and it woke him up from his arousal-induced trance.

“Mais. Maisie, we need to stop”, Dean asked, pulling away from her lips and closing his eyes to try to gather some self-control.

“Why?”, she asked, trying to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“‘Cause you’re not thinking straight”, Dean said. God knows how much he wanted to keep going. She smelled so good, she looked fantastic like that, freshly showered, with nothing on but her underwear and that oversized t-shirt. But he cared too much about her to take things further at that moment. She’d just been through a terrible trauma and, as a pro at avoiding feelings and acting like nothing wrong had happened, Dean knew exactly what she was doing.

“I don’t wanna think about anything, Dean”, she tried again, holding his plaid flannel by the collar and pushing it off of his shoulders.

“Ok, you don’t have to”, he insisted, gently taking her hands off of his shirt, getting up and sliding her body down to the bed.

Maisie felt ashamed. She hugged her knees and scooched up to lean against the headboard, embarrassed and humiliated by her behavior. Dean sat back next to her and gently caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Hey. It’s not that I don’t want you. You could feel how much I do, right?”, he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a shy smile.

She raised her head to look at him with tears pooling in her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly, cheeks flushed.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I just don’t want you to regret this. Don’t do this to forget about what happened. Do this for you. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”, Dean asked, his other hand now placed protectively on her knee.

Maisie nodded again. “I’m- I’m sorry, Dean”, she said, and the tears started to run freely down her face.

“No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for”. He went closer to her, placing one arm around her shoulders. “Everything is gonna be fine, ok? Don’t worry”, he reassured, kissing the top of her head and pulling her to his chest. Maisie wrapped her arms around him, letting Dean’s warmth heal her wounds.

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It was already dark outside when Sam finally got to the motel. After their talk, Dean convinced Maisie to eat and she finally fell asleep.

Sam knocked on the door and Dean went outside to talk to him, trying to not disturb Maisie’s sleep.

“Hey, took you long enough”, Dean greeted. “How was it?”

Sam took a deep breath. He looked tired. “Well, the idiot wanted to give me an attitude, but I kept the FBI agent cover. I told him Maisie had friends in the Bureau, and if he tried something funny again I would make sure his ass would stay in jail forever. It also helped that I’m much taller than him”, he smirked, making Dean chuckle.

“Thanks, man. He actually deserves life in jail for what he put her through”, Dean stated, looking inside the room through a crack on the door.

“How is she doing?”, Sam asked, pointing to the room with his head.

“She’s… she’s ok, considering. I managed to get her to eat, but she didn’t want to talk about what happened, so I’m giving her some space. She’s asleep now. Here’s the key to the room next door. I’m gonna stay until Maisie wakes up. I don’t want her to find herself alone and think I left or something…”, Dean explained.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna try and sleep a bit too. But call me if you guys need anything, ok?”, Sam assured and Dean agreed, going back inside the room.

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It was almost midnight when Maisie woke up. The first thing she did after opening her eyes was look for Dean. He was sitting in the chair at the corner of the room, soundly asleep. His head was leaning on his left shoulder in a way that would surely make his neck hurt like a son of a bitch later.

Maisie got up and went to him, gently shaking his arm.

“Dean? Wake up”.

“Huh?”, he groaned, immediately opening his eyes and sitting straight.

“Hey, didn’t wanna scare you. You should come to bed”, she said, noticing how cute he looked even groggy with sleep.

The barely-awake state didn’t stop Dean from noticing Maisie told him to come to bed and not to go to bed. But he didn’t want to assume anything.

“Well, Sam’s back, so I’m just gonna join him at the room next door”, he got up and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

Maisie averted his eyes and blushed. “I- I was hoping you would stay…”

“I can also do that”, Dean reassured, smiling at her. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to avoid her. He would definitely feel better staying and knowing he would be close in case she needed him. “I’m gonna make myself a bed next to you and-”

“No”, she held his arm, stopping him from going in the direction of the tiny closet next to the bathroom. “The bed is big enough for both of us”, she blushed deeper.

“Are you sure?”, Dean questioned.

“I’m sure, Dean. I’ll behave, I promise”, she joked, in an attempt to dismiss the lingering embarrassment.

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that”, Dean started. “I’m just trying to say you don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine sleeping on the floor”.

“But I’m not”, she shot back. “I’ll be fine if you sleep on the bed”. She would never feel comfortable asking him to stay and then make him sleep on the floor.

“Ok”, he said. “I’m just gonna wash my face and be back in a second then”.

Dean left the bathroom a few minutes later, holding his jeans, plaid shirt and belt on one hand. He was down to his black t-shirt and boxers in the same color. Maisie was already in bed, laying on her side, covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Is it ok if I sleep in my underwear?”, he asked, leaving his clothes on the chair and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course”, she answered, trying to sound casual while not at all feeling like that.

Even though they had slept in the same bed at her house the first time they met, it was dark and Dean was under the covers, so she didn’t really have the chance to see him. This time though, she had a full view: strong, thick, slightly bowed legs, firm and round ass, beautiful forearms speckled with freckles, wide shoulders. Maisie felt a tug in her lower belly. If she was attracted to him before, now she was even more sure she wanted to have her way with the fine man that was Dean Winchester.

But Maisie closed her eyes and focused on falling asleep and, ideally, stay away from Dean. Maybe he was right and she did chose the wrong moment to make a move, but the feeling of rejection was still very present.

Feeling the bed dip and the covers move when Dean was laying down, she closed her eyes and was about to wish him a good night, when she felt his arm sneaking around her middle, pulling her closer. She gasped in surprise. They were close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her ear.

“Is that ok?”, Dean whispered. “I kinda like being your big spoon”.

“It’s perfect. Good night, Dean”, she answered, thinking she could get used to being wrapped in him.

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When the pair woke up the next morning, they had changed positions and were facing each other instead of spooning. Maisie’s arms were tucked to her front, against Dean’s chest, while his arm was over her hip.

Maisie was the first to open her eyes. Dean was sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly opened. A lump started to form in her throat when everything that had happened the day before came back to her memory. It seemed like ages ago, but the fear she felt when Eric broke into her house crept inside her, making her stomach drop with the thought of what could have happened if she didn’t act fast enough.

She took a deep breath and focused on Dean’s face. His perfect face. Her heart skipped a beat with the thought of kissing him. She knew she was falling in love with the guy. They literally talked every day since the day they met, and things with him just flowed easily, so uncompromising. The idea of being with someone who would be there for her was all she ever wished for.

When Dean stopped her from taking things further the day before, she understood that it looked like she wanted sex as a coping mechanism, but he was wrong. She really wanted him because of him, not because of Eric. The timing was bad, yeah, but she was sure about what she wanted. She still felt embarrassed though, especially because maybe she got it wrong and Dean didn’t want the same as she did.

As if he could hear her thinking, he started to slowly wake up. He opened his eyes a little and smiled when he saw her watching him.

“Hey”.

“Hey, you”, she replied in a whisper.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked, and Maisie held her breath when his fingers started to lightly caress her hip.

“I’m- I’m gonna be fine, I guess”.

“I know you will”, Dean reassured, and leaned forward to place a feathery kiss on the tip of her nose and a longer one on her lips. He wanted to show her he wasn’t against being intimate with her. God, no. It was actually the exact opposite. He really wanted them to be as intimate as possible. The thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count since they met. But he didn’t want their first time to have anything to do with her ex-boyfriend. He wanted to be more to her than a coping mechanism, and that thought was scaring him to death, because he had probably been a coping mechanism to multiple women. And, if he was being honest, they were his sometimes too. In his defense, he never promised any kind of commitment or long-term relationship to any of them. And that was always fine and fulfilling both for him and for the women, he made sure of that. But, with Maisie, he wanted more than one night. He wanted to keep coming back to her as much as she would allow him to.

She interrupted his thoughts by calling his name.

“What, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry again about yesterday. I’m sorry if I crossed the line and moved too fast,-”, she started babbling, nervously looking anywhere but in his eyes, her anxious thoughts taking the best of her.

“Hey”, Dean placed his hand on her cheek softly. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I really wanna be with you, Mais. But I want this to be right for us, for you. I need you to be sure this, us, has nothing to do with-”

It was her turn to stop him. “I understand, Dean. But yesterday was not a response to my trauma. I did what I did because I really, really like you. And, honestly…”, her voice broke, “I just need you to show me that there’s good and kindness in this world, not just loss, and pain, and loneliness-”

Dean didn’t let her finish. He placed his large hands on her cheeks and pulled her face closer, giving her a sensual open-mouthed kiss that took her breath away. Licking and tasting her thoroughly, he draw a throaty moan out of her. Once the kiss was over, Dean’s arm went around her waist, pushing her by the lower back so their bodies would get closer, giving her small pecks on the lips. Maisie’s hand was on his shoulder, and it descended to his bicep and his back, feeling the muscles moving under the freckled skin. She threw a leg over his hip, and Dean couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?”, he asked, plump lips now on the curve of her neck.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now kiss me again", the girl demanded, rolling on her back and pulling him with her, lips already glued to his. He leaned over her, positioning himself on top and pulling her leg further up around his waist so he could fit between her thighs.

She pushed her hands under his t-shirt, running her fingers over his strong, firm body, while Dean’s lips were on her neck, his hands on her hips, slowly pulling her panties down. Maisie lifted her butt from the bed to help, and Dean threw the panties away without stopping kissing her.

“Take your shirt off, Dean”, she demanded, and he quickly obeyed. Maisie stared at him towering over her, his toned body looking godly under the dim lights of the room. “You’re so handsome”, she praised, stunned by the Winchesters genes.

Dean smirked and blushed shyly, having no time to reply once Maisie pulled him by the hem of his boxers to resume his previous position. The kissing was back on, and Dean pulled her oversized t-shirt off, leaving her fully naked.

Even though Maisie was not insecure about her body, Dean was staring at her so intently, in a way that the other guys in her life never did, as if he was memorizing her. It made her feel a little self-conscious.

"Dean? What’s wrong?", she asked, voice barely there, as if she was afraid of the answer. Maisie faced Eric’s judgement before and did her best to not be affected by it, but she wasn’t ready to hear any snark comments about her appearance at this vulnerable moment.

Dean’s chest was heaving and his eyes were taking in the woman laid down in front of him. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and shaking his head lightly, he ran a hand from her waist to her under boob, pupils dilated. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking… that Eric dude is so damn stupid".

“What?”, she furrowed her brows in surprise, not at all expecting him to bring up Eric when they were about to have sex.

"Look at you, Maisie. You look incredible. If you were mine, I would do anything to keep you", he kissed her then, lowering his body over hers until there was no space between them, his naked chest warm against hers.

Maisie’s heart skipped a beat with Dean’s words. Eric was never one to praise her in bed, or in any occasion, if she was being honest. With Dean, it was not only what he was saying, but also the fact that she could see the lust in his green eyes, in the way he was breathing, and from the hardness between his legs pressing against her center, making her wet.

She sneaked a hand between them, reaching for Dean’s boxers, rushing to have no barrier between them. As if he was again reading her thoughts, he guided her hand to the front of his underwear, pressing it against the outline of his hard cock. “You’re making me so hard, sweetheart”, he breathed, eyelids heaving as Maisie pulled the piece of clothing down his thighs, finally revealing his veiny, thick cock, to her sight.

“Can I touch you?”, she asked, placing her palm in his lower belly, feeling his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Yeah”, Dean answered, watching her every move.

She slid her hand down and closed her fist around his lengthy cock, caressing it, feeling it heavy and warm. “Fuck, Dean, you’re hot as fuck”.

He chuckled with the compliment. “Right back atcha, baby. Lemme touch you too”, Dean said, already running his hand on the inside of her thigh, fingers gently probing her center. She lowered her head to watch him use his fingers to spread her lips and gather the slick there, using it to lubricate his cock and make her hand slide easily on the length.

Maisie moaned with his touch, and Dean took it as an incentive to bring his hand back to her pussy and push one finger inside while he kissed her again. They touched each other for a few more minutes, until Dean placed his hand on top of hers, making her stop the up and down movements that were driving him completely insane.

“Mais, I need you to stop”, he asked, pulling back and watching her face, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and bites, looking absurdly sexy.

“What’s wrong?”, she questioned, concerned.

“Nothing ‘s wrong, it’s just if you keep doing that I’m not gonna last”, he confessed, crawling over Maisie again, kissing her deeply, using one hand to support his weight and the other to caress her plump breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb. “I wanna be inside you. Wanna make you cum so hard you’re gonna forget every jackass that didn’t fuck you as good you deserve”, he whispered against her lips, letting go of her breast and running his hand down her body until he reached her center again. He then held his cock and ran it through her lips, not really entering her but coating himself with her slick even more, bumping her clit and making Maisie moan with the feeling. “Do you want that?”, he asked, teasing.

“Yes, yes, please Dean, just fuck me already”, she whined, eager to know how he would feel inside of her.

Dean pushed the tip of his cock in her entrance, feeling her already stretching to accommodate him. He hissed at the feeling of warmth and wetness, her nails digging at his shoulders as he entered her slowly, with in and out movements, inch by inch, taking turns between kissing her and sucking her nipples, as Maisie slid one hand down his back to push his hips, silently asking him to go all the way in.

With him completely sheathed inside her, Maisie was feeling so full and stretched, to the point where she knew it would hurt a little once he started moving. Dean was so thick, she found it hot how much she was struggling to take him. He was making her feel things she wasn't used to and, at this point, she just wanted him to fuck her senseless.

He seemed to have a different idea, though, judging by how his hips were completely still.

"Dean", she called, running one hand through his soft hair, "can- can you move? I need you to move", she pleaded, voice strangled with need.

"In a minute, baby. Just need to get used to you. You have no idea how good you feel", he explained, grunting and moving a few inches out of her, teeth clenched. He could feel her muscles snuggling him so much he was afraid he was gonna come, but the need to drive himself deeper inside of her was too much. He did exactly that, and judging by Maisie’s gasp, she felt as good as he did.

“You feel amazing”, he praised again, pulling out and pushing in harder this time, and Maisie’s moans were increasing according to the force he was putting into fucking her. Each one of Dean’s thrusts made her body move further up on the bed. He was hitting her sweet spot with perfect aim and, as he pushed one of her legs further up, her clit started pressing on his pelvis. She had lost the capacity to form words, turning into a moaning mess, digging her fingers into the meaty part of Dean’s thick shoulders, trying her best to keep her eyes open to watch his beautiful face contort with pleasure every time her walls constricted around his length.

Dean slowed down his movements, wanting to last and drag his and Maisie’s pleasure further. “Is it good, baby girl?”, he asked between ragged breaths, kissing and nibbling her jaw and neck.

“S-so good. So- so f-full”, she managed to say, fingers travelling down to his plump ass, “so deep, Dean”.

“Yeah? I can feel this perfect pussy squeezing so hard around me, sweetheart. Are you about to cum?”, he continued, hand sliding to her mound, pressing down as his thumb found her clit, making Maisie’s hips jump from the bed.

“Oh, yes! Dean, I’m-“

“Come, baby, come for me”. He pinned her hips down and buried himself in her to the hilt as her muscles contracted around his cock. Maisie’s ragged breaths and moans were louder and he couldn’t hold it anymore. She was taking him so well. He came hard and deep inside of her, painting her walls white and making it leak around them both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he grunted, the pleasure spreading to his toes as Maisie pulled his head down to kiss him, not an inch of space between their sweat-slicked bodies.

They slowly came back from their highs, bodies still joined, Dean’s head resting between Maisie’s breasts while she caressed the hair on the nape of his neck. After a few minutes, he tilted his head up to look at her. “That was incredible. You’re so perfect”, he said, kissing her, hot and messy mouth exploring hers.

“Stop, Dean. You’re making me blush”, she said, smiling as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“It’s true. And you look beautiful when you blush. But I know something that will make you look even prettier”, he stated, kissing her again and slotting himself back between her thick legs.

She made space for him and felt his cock getting hard against her left inner thigh. Maisie laughed when Dean’s mouth travelled to her neck, sucking the sweet spot behind her ear. It felt good to see the way he reacted to her so promptly, how she aroused him right after they just had the most amazing sex. It felt like they knew each other for way longer than they actually did. “Tell me, Dean”, Maisie encouraged him, wanting to hear more of that deep, sexy voice of his saying dirty things to her.

He answered by straddling her mid, cock standing hard and glistening with their juices. It was a mouth-watering sight, Maisie thought, and she wanted nothing more than to suck him off. She reached out to take him in her small hand, and Dean grunted. “You would look amazing covered in my cum”, he confessed, hips jerking with her touch.

“I think I have a better idea”, she looked up at him from under her lashes, leaning up to give a kitten-lick to the head of his cock. Dean hissed and threw his head back, every inch of his body reacting to Maisie’s caress.

She pushed him back on the bed and knelt between his spread legs, proceeding to hold his cock with one hand and sucking on the tip while watching his every reaction. He felt heavy and hot in her hand, and she took him as far as she could, moaning around him.

“Fuck, Maisie, I’m not gonna last”, Dean warned, his length pulsing on her tongue.

Giving one particular strong suck and slurping their combined juices, she let go of him. “Do you wanna come all over me, Dean?”, asked the woman, sensual eyes watching him panting. She knew the answer, he already said it, but she wanted to hear him say it again.

“Yeah, baby”, he replied, lips parted while he watched her give one more kitten lick to the head of his dick and jerk him off until he exploded, painting her breasts and stomach with his hot cum.

“Wow, Dean”, she exclaimed, collecting some of the liquid from between her breasts and licking her fingers to clean it, tasting the tanginess of his cum.

“That was so fucking hot, Mais. You’re incredible”, he pulled her in for a kissing, tasting her and himself, pushing his tongue into her mouth and making her moan.

Wrapping her body in his embrace, Dean pulled her down to lay on the bed with him, still kissing her and exploring her curves with his hands. Once they stopped to catch their breaths, Dean noticed her eyes getting heavy as he caressed her back. He watched as she fell asleep and pulled a blanket over them, letting himself be carried away with her to a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

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The Winchesters stayed with Maisie for a week. After the police was done collecting evidence from her place, the three of them went back and settled there, trying to help her back to her routine and mostly waiting to know what would happen with Eric. Sam slept in Maisie’s old bedroom while she and Dean shared the other room. That made the younger Winchester smile. He could tell right away that his brother and friend had clicked off, and he hoped they would both get the best out of whatever was going on between them.

In the meantime, Dean was so adamant at making sure Eric would stay in jail and have no chance at ever getting close to Maisie again that, when a hunt surfaced in a city nearby, he sent Sam and asked Bobby for help, deciding to stay with her just in case.

“It’s a quick and easy salt and burn, Sammy, you don’t need me. ‘Sides, Bobby is on his way. Maisie is gonna talk to her lawyer and I wanna be here, in case we need to do something to keep the jackass locked up”, he explained, patting Sam on the shoulder and giving him the Impala’s keys.

Gladly, everything went fine and Eric would wait for trial in jail. Maisie’s lawyer assured her there was no way he was not getting convicted, and Dean only agreed to leave because of that.

“Mais, I’m- Sam and I are one call away. All you have to do is give us a call and we’ll be here or have someone here with you, okay?”, Dean assured, giving Maisie one last hug while Sam was already waiting in the car.

“I know, Dean, thank you. I appreciate everything you guys did for me. Especially you”, she said, smirking devilishly and pulling him down for a kiss. “I cannot wait to see you again”, she whispered in his ear before they split.

Dean’s ears were red but he was grinning. “Me too, sweetheart. I’m gonna text you every day. You text me back, alright?”.

“I will, I promise”, she said, waving goodbye as he walked towards the car.

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As Dean drove down the road, switching the radio on, Sam watched him. Since it didn’t look like his older brother was gonna say anything, he decided to give him a push.

"So, what?", Sam asked.

"What, what?", Dean replied, raising an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You and Maisie. Was it just a one-time thing?".

"Hell, no. Not if it's up to me. She’s pretty great, Sammy", Dean smiled, mind filled with the memories of their good time together.

"I know that. That's why I'm asking. Don't break her heart, man".

"I won't, man. I promised her I'll come back. I will call and text and check on her too. I will. She knows how our life is, though. She knows I can't be there every day. But I'm gonna be there for her, for the important things at least. She will never have to deal with that dude ever again, if it's up to me. I’m gonna keep her safe", Dean looked at his brother, stern expression telling Sam he meant every word.

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5 years later – after Purgatory

Maisie’s bare feet were starting to hurt from walking up and down the living room. The perspective of seeing Dean after a year was making her too anxious. One year without hearing his voice, except for the voice messages she kept replaying every time the pain of missing him was too much to bear. One year of no texts, no pictures, of not looking into his green eyes. One year of not knowing if he was even alive.

He was back now, but she had no idea in what state, physical and mental, she would find him. That was only increasing her nervousness, but she tried to hold on to the fact that he was alive, and he was gonna be there with her at any moment now. Everything else, they would manage together.

She ran to the door the moment she heard the sound of the Impala’s engine. If it weren’t for Sam’s call giving her a little more detail, the only indication she had was a text message sent from Dean’s old phone: I’m back and on my way to see you, Mais.

Maisie wouldn’t even had believed that the message was actually from Dean, if Sam hadn’t call right after she received it, explaining that Dean was alive. Apparently, the brothers had a fight, and Dean was on his way to see her. She and Sam were not exactly in the best terms at the moment as well – Maisie was not happy with the fact that he didn’t look for Dean, and she had a suspicion that was the reason they fought.

Once she reached the front door, Dean was already halfway up the short staircase leading to the house’s porch. “De-“, she started saying, tears running down her cheeks, but he didn’t let her finish. He skipped the last two steps and pulled her into his arms, embracing her as tight as he could while kissing her almost with bruising force.

“I missed you, Mais, I missed you so fucking much”, he said between kisses. She sobbed and laughed at the same time, heart thumping in her chest. The relief of seeing him again, looking tired but somewhat whole, was everything she had hoped for in the last year.

“I missed you too, Dean. I love you”, she said, knowing it would scare the shit out of him, but not wanting to spend another day with the regret of not having him know the depth of her feelings.

Dean stepped back but kept his arms around her waist. He was clearly shocked, but soon his wide eyes gave way to the wrinkles that framed his face so beautifully every time he smiled. “I- I love you too, Maisie. I didn’t realize how much until I couldn’t be with you”.

She kissed him again, standing on her tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck. Maisie was glad to realize she didn’t forget the smell of him, or the feeling of his short hair on the tip of her fingers, or the way his big hands fit so perfectly on her hips.

Taking his hand in hers, Maisie led Dean inside the house. As if no time had passed, they sat at the table and she offered him the cookies she prepared on the day before, and he ate all of them, just like he always used to do, to her complete joy. After that, they talked for a while, sharing their perspectives about everything that happened during the past year, how she searched for him and even reached to some of the Winchesters’ hunter friends to help once she realized Sam was not doing what she expected him to.

It was a hard conversation for both of them. Dean wanted more than anything to simply forget everything, but he knew that he owed Maisie an explanation. She was utterly shocked when he mentioned Purgatory and everything he went through there, but her resolution to help him heal didn’t change, not even for a second.

The night ended with them making love. Dean got so lost in the comfort of her body, something he craved and wished for so long, that it wasn’t even surprising to him to feel a tear streaming down his face when he was finally inside her. There was nothing he wanted more than to be wrapped in her scent, her softness, to have every curve of her body fitting into his, to feel as comfortable and safe as he always felt with her.

He took her slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being joined with her after so long, of feeling her heartbeat against the hand he kept on her left breast, of watching the goosebumps forming on her skin with every one of his touches.

On the second round, Maisie was sitting on Dean’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. One of his hands was placed on her lower back so he could help her ride him, pushing her down and filling her to the hilt with every thrust. Her look was of pure bliss, cheeks flushed with the effort, and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

"My God, you're stunning. Do you know that? Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come?", he asked, pushing a strand of hair from her face while they were catching their breaths, sweaty bodies still intertwined.

Maisie looked at him with watery eyes. She couldn’t believe fate brought the two of them together. In the years they knew each other, they both changed so much, and all they’ve been through only made Dean more handsome and perfect in her eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you for being so perfect. Thank you for being mine. I love you”, she replied, kissing Dean again, savoring the feeling of his plump lips and the slight roughness of his stubble against her palms.

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10 years later – Lebanon, Kansas

He spends a few more minutes watching her, until a movement by the door catches his attention.

Maisie is standing there, in her pajamas, watching him. She smiles when he notices her.

He removes his hand from his daughter’s carefully, stands up from the stuffed chair by her bed, and walks to the door, where his wife waits for him.

“Hey”, Maisie greets in a whisper when he approaches her, extending her hand so Dean can hold it. He does, intertwining their fingers and standing next to her.

“Hey, baby. How long have you been standing there?”, he asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Just for two or three minutes. I arrived when you were telling her about how you fell in love with me from the first time you saw me”, she revealed, looking up at him and blushing.

Dean chuckled. “You got me there. It’s no lie, though. She loves hearing that story. It’s the one she always asks me to tell her. That, and the one where mommy and daddy reunited after he got out of monster land”.

“Monster land?”, Maisie furrowed her eyebrows in a questioning look.

“Yeah, that’s what I call Purgatory to her”, he gave her a cocky smile, obviously proud of his own creativity.

“I hope you spared her of the details”, she said, chuckling at Dean, once again amazed at the fact that their daughter seemed to love horror stories, just like her father.

“‘Course. Our story ain’t no fairytale, but I think it’s pretty awesome. Plus, she has to know how great her mommy is”, he affirmed, charming as always, and Maisie pulled his hand so they both would move away from Lily’s bedroom door. She closed it and led him to their room.

Once inside, the woman turned around and threw her arms around her husband’s neck, kissing him deeply.

“I love you, Dean. I love how amazing you are with our daughter. I would go through everything we went through all over again knowing it would lead us to this. You, me, and Lily”, she declared, eyes watering.

It was his turn to kiss her now, his warm palm against the side of her neck guiding her into the kiss. Maisie was so much shorter than him that, when they stopped for air, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “She’s only 2, but I know she’s growing up to be as fierce and strong as you are. Once she’s old enough, she’s gonna know how her dad went through hell and Purgatory, and how her mom was the reason he came back every time. How you waited for me and welcomed me with open arms, when I was bruised and battered and more fucked up than before. But you put me back together, baby. I love you”, Dean said, holding his love in his arms.

THE END.

Taglist (I'm sorry super this is super outdated! If you want to be removed or included in this taglist, let me know and I'll gladly do it <3): @sexyvixen7; @candy-coated-misery0731; @dean-winchester-lover99; @thoughts-and-funnies; @avanatural; @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior; @eevvvaa; @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes; @djs8891.

#fic rec #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester pining #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester

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sleepyangelkami · 3 months ago

Text

AN ANGEL d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 4.5K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - You're nervous to lose your virginity, Dean shows you everything that you've been missing out on.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!dean, sub!reader, nervous/shy!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, p!v, teasing, loss of virginity, fingering, hickeys (r.recieving), size kink, praise kink, dean is experienced, reader is inexperienced, (1) thigh slap, big dick!dean, boob fondling, boob sucking, reader is smaller than dean, illusions to past masturbation, reader blushes, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

dean liked having you sat in his lap.

this wasn't the first time, your legs stretched around his waist while your hands scrunched idly at the black shirt he'd been wearing, your lips against his own. making out with you had to be possibly the best thing he'd ever done. it was like getting sent to heaven and back, between each breath he damned the gods that disallowed him to press his lips against yours for forever.

but you were new to all this.

he had to be gentle.

dean was the first real relationship you'd ever had. and if he was being honest, you were sort of the first real relationship he'd ever had too.

he used to hop from girl to girl, bed to bed and not think twice about it. you were the absolute opposite. you were the type of girl that didn't speak unless spoken to, you kept your head down and got through everything without so much as letting your imagination wander with what it would feel like to be with a man.

then you met him.

his hands were pinching at the fat of your thighs, he found it hard to keep his hands to himself when you were like this. between kisses, he could hear the shakiness in your breaths, it drove him unbelievably mad.

you felt almost sorry for dean, knowing it'd taken this long to get comfortable enough to even make out with the man. you knew his history and how he wouldn't go longer than a week without someone in his bed. now he'd went more than three months with you like this, aching for more.

and it wasn't like you didn't want more, believe me, you'd been aching just as horribly.

you were just... scared?

deans hands moved harshly against your skin, right hand coming down to gently slap your thigh before gripping it once again. the feeling prompted a low whimper to leave your lips.

dean almost groaned. he could get used to hearing noises like those.

when the man pulled away from your lips, heavy breaths still leaving his own, you swore you could have whimpered again just from the loss of contact.

he looked down at you, eyes all blown wide, lips slick and swollen, it was a sight he hoped was never erased from his memory. he wanted to remember this forever. "y'so needy." he had that cocky grin on his lips, cocking his head to the side as he viewed you as a whole, all his, right in his lap for the taking.

you felt your cheeks get hot at the sentence, eyes immediately darting anywhere other than his face. "don' be mean." was the mumble you let out, eyes adverting and voice lowering. you weren't able to talk to him, not when he got like this, all 'bigger' than you, it made you feel small, it made you feel wet.

"'m not, 'm not." he spoke with a low chuckle, one of his hands raising to meet your face, you felt the padding of his thumb wipe across your hot cheeks, he could tell you were nervous. then again, you were always so nervous. "i think it's cute."

again, your face got increasingly hotter but dean didn't leave you any room for words, dipping his head so his lips could meet your neck.

there was something so surreal about being like this, your hands gripping at his shirt, top lip clamped down on your bottom as he kissed against the skin of your neck.

again, this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. makeouts and hickey-leaving was getting more and more natural in your relationship, common, even.

he'd come home from his hunts with sam and all he'd want was you either below or on top of him, his lips against anything they could reach.

you felt his lips part, sucking against your neck as one hand ran up your back, the other cupping the back of your hair. once he sucked, his tongue would smooth over the skin, pleasure to ease the pain. and he'd go again, gradually moving to different places on your neck. marking you.

your own lips were strewn shut, you were hoping and praying on every star that you didn't let a noise slip from you. you were too nervous, too embarrassed but the whole point of this was to feel good, wasn't it? so why did you feel so embarrassed to show him how good it felt?

your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling suddenly overwhelming.

you didn't register the move of your hips until his lips left your neck and his hands clamped down on your waist, low grunt leaving his mouth.

you stared at him with those big eyes and he swore he was gone. "y'can't do that, sweetheart." despite his words, his tone was gentle. "can't start something if you don't want to finish it."

he knew how inexperienced you were, he thought you wanted to hold off on losing your virginity which is why he'd never made such a move but by the way you were looking at him now, he swore you wanted nothing more than for him to take you.

and he'd gladly do so upon your command.

"i do..." you uttered. ".. want to." the words made your insides twinge, made your nose scrunch and your lips purse.

you were too nervous, shaking like a leaf on top of him. even so, with so much anxiety bottled into a human, dean made no movements of caution.

you sort of liked that dean wasn't as awkward or nervous as you were. dean was confident, that much was for sure. but being so confident also gave him this openness, seeping comfort into your veins as his large, warm hands trailed up and down your thighs.

"yeah?" his voice was breathy and his smile had left his features. he didn't need to be so teasing now, he knew you would simply burst of shyness. and he didn't want you in a position of uncertainty. "what d'you want?"

he wasn't trying to tease you, though he knew his fingers that began to dance against your skin were doing nothing to calm your nerves.

he just needed to hear you say it.

you planted your face into his chest with an incoherent mumble, cheeks alight as flames.

dean could have laughed at you but he didn't want you thinking you'd done something wrong. on the contrary, he found it downright adorable how shy you'd been getting. but you couldn't help it, this was such an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in your stomach.

"can't hear you, sweetheart." his head came down to sit atop yours, his voice a gentle whisper. "i need you to tell me what you want, okay?" his free hand tipped your chin upwards to look at him, those pretty green eyes held so much sincerity. "use your words f'me, baby."

words felt stuck in your throat, you couldn't seem to get them out. but dean didn't want to let this get away from him, he steadied your chin between his fingers.

"i want..." your voice was all breathy, all needy. it had dean reeling. "i want you to touch me."

and as the words passed your lips, you swear all the air was knocked from your lungs. listening to yourself talk had made your head feel fuzzy. before dean, you couldn't have even imagined such words leaving your lips.

dean was struggling to compose himself but nonetheless, he did. his lips quirked into this proud yet sly smirk as his fingers ran up and down your thighs. "where, angel? here?" he practically mocked, fingers against your knee.

at this point, dean had never seen an angel, he didn't believe in them. but he was sure that if angels did exist, you had to be one of them.

you could have corrected him verbally, told him to stop teasing or even scolded him for mocking you while you were all worked up like this. but instead, you chose to grasp his bigger hand in your own and trail it towards your core.

as your hand cupped his own, he could feel them shake, he almost cooed at you but he didn't want to make you more nervous than you already were.

but when his hand finally reached your clothed core, he couldn't help but let out a groan.

it didn't take longer than a second for dean to have you flipped over with your back against the mattress of the bed. a noise left your lips as he towered over you, that infamous smirk etched to his lips.

but a type of seriousness washed over him. "are you sure you want this?"

you knew he wasn't asking you to tease you or make you wait, he was being sincere and you couldn't have been more sincere back by bucking your hips with a low whine of the word, "yes." quickly followed by a "please."

"so needy." he mumbled back, lips moving to your neck while his fingers fumbled at the cotton material of your baby blue sleep shorts. he hooked his fingers around the waistband and tore it off skilfully.

he supposed his experience was paying off.

you didn't have any time to counter what he'd said, too focused on the feeling building in your stomach. much of it was worry, anxiety even but the majority of it was this foreign, amazing feeling.

"fuck." his ring clad fingers circled against your panties. you were suddenly hyper aware of how worked up you'd gotten while making out with him, a blush creeping in on your face as you turned away from him.

dean all but tutted, dragging your face back.

"don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. This wet for me, the least you can do is look at me." he had that empowering stare that told you he was in charge here, it had you shrinking further into the mattress.

but dean wasn't demanding, sure he was dominating but he didn't make you uncomfortable. truthfully, you'd been rather scared of getting this far with anybody but you were sure that if there was anybody you wanted it to be with, it was him.

his hands toyed at waistbands of your panties. "this okay?" his eyes were glued to your face, trying to watch every way your face contorted, making sure you were okay.

believe it or not, there was a lot one could tell from just looking at someone.

you nodded your head briskly, darkened and bitten lips parted slightly, covered in the slick left behind from your tongue. your cheeks had turned a darkened colour too, blush spreading across your face.

there was something so surreal about looking at you like this, knowing nobody else ever had. he pulled the panties down your legs, watching you steadily with his own lips parting open. his eyes moved from yours to trail down your body, landing on your sopping core. he couldn't help but breathe in a breath.

"you're so pretty, angel." he moved his hand upwards again, closed fingers gently toying with your clit, which earned a soft gasp from you. his lips quirked as he brought his hand away, using the other to slip off his ring. he took your wrist, holding it up gently. "take care of this for me, yeah?" you nodded as he slipped the ring onto your thumb, seeing as your other fingers wouldn't fit it. "good girl." he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were a virgin.

now, dean wasn't necessarily put off by the fact that you were a virgin. dean couldn't have cared less what you were. but he needed to make sure he was gentle, more so than any other time.

because he was the first, the one you'd remember forever.

though, he intended to be your very last, too.

his fingers trailed across your pretty tank top, down to your hips and finally edging between your legs. he peppered kisses against your face and down across your jaw, finally landing on your neck, fingers pushing your legs apart with ease.

as shy as you were, you didn't hide from him, you allowed him to part your legs, his hand was against your inner thigh, softly soothing up and down against your skin.

but he had to make sure, before he touched you. "sure this is okay? not having second thoughts?"

of course dean wanted to but he only wanted to if you wanted to. but you nodded anyway, swallowing though your mouth was dry anyway. "'m just nervous." you admitted softly.

it was no secret to dean that you were a nervous creature already. he knew this was all new to you but he didn't want you to feel shy around him. "you don't need to be." he pressed a kiss against the supple of your cheek, hand moving further as you let out a shaky breath. "not with me." as the whisper left his mouth, his hand came up to touch your hot core.

the noise that left your mouth should have embarrassed you but right now, you couldn't think of anything other than the feeling of his hand right where you needed him.

he collected your wetness onto his fingers, spreading it up and down your folds, two fingers parting from the rest as he gently eased them into your hole.

heavy breaths suddenly left you, chest rising and falling while dean's face was practically hidden in your neck, peppering kisses, sucking and licking against the soft skin while his fingers settled inside of you.

he gave you hardly any time to adjust to the feeling, pulling them out and then thrusting them right back into you. "you're so warm, sweetheart." he mumbled in slight awe. suddenly, the image took over his mind, the image of him inside of you. he couldn't seem to wipe it away.

he knew that giving yourself to him even just like this was a lot for you, he didn't want to push you any further than he already had tonight.

however, the image still tainted his memory.

as the speed of his fingers increased, so did the volume of your noises.

a sticky, wet sound bounced from wall to wall, causing your cheeks to warm incredibly further. you flushed, your own hand coming up to cover your mouth, suddenly aware of how loud you'd been.

a coo left his lips, free hand coming to drag your wrist away from your mouth. "wanna hear every noise you can make, angel."

and his words alone made you whimper.

the palm of his hand bounced against your clit with every thrust of his hand, emitting these noises from you that you'd never been able to draw from yourself.

"y'sound so pretty, you know that, baby?" you made a noise to show you were listening, though all it told dean was that you felt good. "look so pretty too. so beautiful. all mine."

dean couldn't keep his hands to himself.

his free hand dragged against your skin, pushing at it as if trying to get closer to you in any way possible.

against his fingers formed a creamy ring. he looked down at his digits sliding in and out of you, wetness surrounding you both, keeping you together by a wet string.

he let his thoughts wander.

as evil as it was, he simply couldn't think of anything else, he imagined it was his dick sliding in and out of your hot, wet hole, the noises you'd make would be so much louder, you'd be so much fuller.

then he was suddenly aware of your experience once again.

you were tight, incredibly tight which only made him scissor his fingers. if you were going to take his dick, he needed to stretch you out first.

"dean!" you spluttered out as he scissored his fingers inside of you. "c-cant."

your hips bucked backwards, as if you were trying to tell yourself to stop, but it felt too good to stop.

and dean knew your body well, more than you knew it apparently for he only tutted, holding your wrist in his free hand. "you can take it baby, there you go." and he must have known what was happening because your insides were turning to mush.

you'd orgasmed by yourself before but this? this was true bliss.

he held your waist down to the mattress as your body squirmed, head falling back into the pillows as his name fell on your lips, moans and whines blissfully leaving your slick lips.

"good girl." he mumbled, pressing kisses anywhere his lips could reach. "you're so good, there you go. atta girl."

his words of praise fell on your lips, only making you squirm impossibly more. but nonetheless, he kept up his pace, fingers moving to help you ride out your high.

dean swore he'd never seen something so beautiful.

he watched in awe, staring at the way your face scrunched up, pretty lips parted and your eyes screwed closed, though he could only imagine you were seeing stars behind your lids, not that he was being cocky or anything.

the sight was pure bliss, angelic, even.

he swore he'd been to heaven and back, just watching your face contort.

and he'd watch it forever, if he could.

he was suddenly aware of how tight his jeans felt.

"i need to fuck you." he was mumbling with a slight neediness in his tone, kissing up and down your throat, his hand only coming to a halt when your own practically pushed it away, the overstimulation becoming too much. "can i?" a beat passed. "please?"

his face rose to meet yours and you stared at him, all blissed out. you swore that his fingers were the most skilled, pleasurable feeling you'd ever felt, much better than to how it felt when you'd done it by yourself. your lips were glossed over, heavy pants leaving your chest. huge eyes and flushed cheeks.

almost a whine of the phrase, "uh-huh." passed your lips.

and it was enough for him.

his lips crashed into your own, kissing you ever so softly, though there was passion hidden somewhere between your heavy breaths.

needy hands pawed at the end of his black shirt, his own hands reached down to cup yours, helping you tear it off of his body. his amulet dangled downwards, just below your face and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that your top was still on. he supposed he'd been too focused on making you feel good to realise.

his hands reached the end of your own top, helping you push it over your head.

no words left his lips but they parted, tongue passing over the bottom one as he stared.

your pink bra was so pretty on you he almost had to think to decide whether or not he wanted to keep it on. but he decided with the latter, hands unhooking your bra skillfully, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

he hardly got to see your boobs, for his hands cupped them as soon as they were let out of the bra. he cursed out a grunt under his breath, one hand leaving your breast so his mouth could replace it.

against the mattress, your back arched, stomach against his own while you bit back the pretty whimpers which he yearned to hear. his mouth worked against you, rolling his tongue back and forth, practically flicking your nipple in his mouth making you unable to contain the sounds you so desperately tried to keep back.

"d―dean!" you spluttered, eyes fluttering shut. his own eyes looked up at you, watching your face contort once again.

he had to have you.

as his face left your chest, a string of spit connected your boobs to his lips.

he wiped it away, though nothing could wipe away that smut smirk he held. nonetheless, he helped himself to shimmying out of his jeans, taking his boxers off with it.

it wasn't until he took everything off that reality set in. you stared, eyes blown wide, he was, well... big. and it was sort of hard not to get nervous, even with the fact that his fingers had just been stuffed inside of you, you weren't so sure it was going to fit.

"you okay?" he leaned down, towering over you. he realised your eyes hadn't moved from his dick, pulling your chin up with his two fingers. "are you sure you want this?"

you nodded your head, thoughts a mere muddle of clouds. "i just... 'm nervous." you admitted, feeling your stomach fill with this fuzzy feeling that you only got when you talked to dean.

"you don't have to be nervous, sweetheart, not with me, okay?" the palm of his hand rested on your face. "do you want this?"

"yes." you answered without a beat.

"promise?" you could have melted right then and there. dean winchester was of many things but above all, he was gentle.

"promise." you mumbled, finding yourself relaxing just at the mere sound of his voice. his hand trailed up to find your own, fingers interlocking yours. his free hand moved down to his dick, pressing it in his hand.

you watched with curiosity yet also nervousness. you'd never seen this done in real life, so the shyness was creeping in as you watched him move his hand up and down his shaft, dragging it towards your wet hole. instantly, a sound left your lips, blush instantly creeping in as your eyes snapped up to him. he only smiled gently at you, finding your shyness rather adorable.

the head of his dick slowly pushed inside of you and that alone had you feeling awfully stretched. he wasn't just long, he was thick too meaning he stretched you out completely. "okay?" you nodded at the sound of his question, the feeling of his lips on your cheek moments after. "'s gonna hurt a little, alright?"

you nodded your head, eyes shutting closed as you braced yourself.

you weren't an idiot either, you knew first times were supposed to hurt but luckily for you, you had dean right there, holding one of your hands tight in his own, soft whispers and kisses against your skin.

what more could you really ask for.

he slowly eased himself inside of you, worried he was hurting you. then again, there wasn't really any other way to get inside without hurting you. he watched as your face contorted, a gentle whimper leaving your lips but he knew it wasn't one of pleasure, more of pain, actually.

he mumbled gentle apologies and left a trail of them in kisses from your neck to your cheeks.

finally, he was in completely and he couldn't help the string of curses that he mumbled under his breath.

dean stayed as still as he could. worry set in, he didn't want to hurt you, not when you'd been so nervous in the first place. he'd been with many girls but you were a tight fit around him, swallowing his dick whole. he couldn't help but almost coo at the way your hole clenched around him.

he felt your hips shift, and he knew you were ready. "can i―fuck, sweetheart, can i move?"

again, you nodded with a subtle whine that told him in other words, yes, he absolutely could move. and that was exactly what he did.

he slowly pulled his dick out from inside you then suddenly slammed his hips back in, his dick hitting the spot deep inside your walls. instantly, he was met with a mewl.

"shit." he uttered, wanting to draw as many sounds like that out of you as he could. his two hands now rested on yours tightening his grip as he placed them over your head so he could gain better access. "oh, fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking pretty."

it seemed as though dean had the mouth similar to a sailor when put in a position like this.

but he couldn't help it, you were staring at him with those doe eyes, pretty noises falling from you. his hips moved with ease, slamming in and out of you, it didn't take him long to pick up the pace either.

your legs lifted to surround his waist, moans leaving the two of you as his hips slammed inside of you.

"shit, you're so good for me." he was a mumbling mess, he meant every word of what he said, though he wasn't too sure what was leaving his lips as of now. "oh, my sweet girl, thaaat's it."

he tipped his head forward, connecting his forehead to your own. your whimpers and whines were swallowed by a kiss, gentle yet so full of neediness, it was exactly what you wanted.

"feels..." you mumbled once your lips had parted, though you were sort of dazed, not all the way there. "feels so good."

"good girl, 's it, take it all." you felt his hand suddenly trail down, fingers soft against your clit while his dick still hot between your gummy walls. "'s okay, you're okay."

you shook your head, swallowing thickly as your hips bucked. "'s―'s too much!" you panted out, moans leaving you as if you couldn't keep them inside.

"you can take it, baby, know you can." but he could tell by the way your face twisted again, you were close.

and so was he.

"you gonna let go f'me? huh?"

at this point, your eyes had fluttered shut and you lips were parted as you nodded, brows strewn together. "gonna... 'm gonna cum, dean."

"that's my girl." he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "cum all over my dick f'me, sweetheart."

you supposed you were more obedient than you thought.

dean watched as you squirmed and moaned, eyes screwed shut as you finally let go around him. he could feel your gummy walls squeezing him tighter, a ring of slick had formed at the base of his dick. the mere sight, his dick still stuffed inside your cunt and you, cumming all over him.

well, it was enough to have any man weak.

which was why he'd finished so quickly, too.

after all, he'd been holding on since you were sat on his lap.

and that one feeling, cumming in your wet, hot walls and watching you with that pretty, stricken and worn out face as you came on him too... he swore he had really been to heaven and back.

when you both rode out your highs, he laid himself on the bed next to you, watching as you reached your hand up, playing with his silver ring that sat on your thumb.

he swore he was staring at an angel.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader comfort #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester comfort #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x y/n #supernatural drabble #sleepyangelkami

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wildwestdean · 7 months ago

Text

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

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