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imagineteamfreewill · 7 months ago

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From the Dead - Five

Pairing: Soldier!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Hearing loss, pregnancy, nervousness, nausea, mentions of PTSD, and fluff

Summary: Dean Winchester died as a war hero during his third tour overseas. He left Y/N behind, and she decides that she needs a change. She leaves Lawrence to work at Camp New Moon, where a mysterious visitor shows up almost five years after Dean first left for his tour.

A/N: This is the final part of the “From the Dead” series. As always, thank you for supporting me whether I’m writing Supernatural or Marvel, both here and on other websites. I hope you enjoy!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

From the Dead Series Masterlist

The months practically fly by after Dean receives his hearing aid. As part of his therapy, he creates a list of things he wants to do now that he’s back in the States, some of which you’ve never done together. One by one, you check things off the list. You spend sunsets—and a few sunrises—snuggled up on the beach by the lake, and when the fall hits, you and Dean are able to get away for a few weekends for hikes in a nearby state park. It’s on those nights at the lake and in the cabins you rent at the parks that Dean talks to you more about his tour. He can’t tell you all the details, especially since Sam is still advising you on whether or not to sue for everything you’d been put through, but he talks to you about his life in the village. Sometimes you lay together in bed as he talks, and other times you sit facing him so you can read his expressions. Sometimes he cries. You do too. It’s cathartic for both of you.

When winter descends on the South, you take him to Atlanta for some of the Christmas festivities. You go to a concert, go on a fancy date at an even fancier restaurant, and walk hand in hand while you look at Christmas lights. His family drives down for the holidays, and you put them up in a few of the empty staff cabins. Mary tells you one morning while you’re watching the sun rise over the lake that she understands why you’d want to stay at New Moon. It’s one of the best Christmas gifts you get.

Dean surprises you with trips to the zoo, aquarium, and museums. He takes you shopping, compliments you with every new thing you tried on, and he carries your bags. He cooks you elaborate meals and brings you picnic lunches. You’re pretty sure that he and Meg text because he always seems to show up for lunch on the days where you need his company the most.

Life is sublime, even on the rough nights when you sleep very little. Dean’s nightmares wake you up on occasion, but you don’t mind. He shows you his love in a thousand little ways, and lying with him and comforting him is one of the few ways that you do the same. You both lay on your sides, facing each other, and you murmur reassurances in the dim light from the bedside lamp. You’ve gotten used to sleeping with it on, especially now since you found out that the darkness is something that worsens his PTSD.

Some nights, you stay up late worrying about the girls. Others you spend sitting up with them or talking with them when they need support, or intervention. Oftentimes, on those nights, you walk back to your cottage in the dark, following the path with just an old plastic flashlight to guide you. Your phone is usually dead and you’re always bone-tired, but without fail, you open the door to find Dean waiting up for you on the couch. He has the TV playing low in the background, and if you haven’t eaten dinner, he has a plate of food ready to be reheated for you. He listens when he can, too. You tell him whatever isn’t confidential, and he listens in silence with a hand on your leg as you curl up to him on the couch, or he holds you close as you lay together in bed, just like when you listen to him talk about his time overseas.

It’s on one of these nights in early March when you’re curled up together, sometime just past midnight, that you realize you’ve been home late almost every day this week and that Dean had been alone almost all day, every day. Your thoughts roam back to the first dinner you’d had with his family since his return. He’d thrived in the living room bustling with people he loved, and he’d lit up any time he’d interacted with his niece and nephew. You haven’t seen that exact look on his face since.

“Dean?” you murmur. He doesn’t answer right away, but he keeps stroking your hair, so you carefully turn your head on his thigh to look up at him. He took his hearing aid out an hour ago, which meant he probably just hasn’t heard you.

“You need something, sweetheart?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Do you… Do you still want kids? We haven’t talked about it since you got back, but before your deployment…”

He hums thoughtfully and sits up a little more on the sofa. You sit up when he moves, pulling your legs in and propping yourself up with one arm on the top of the back cushions. He keeps looking at the TV, but you can tell that he really isn’t watching it. The show is something pedantic—a black-and-white sitcom from the 60s that only comes on during late-night television. It’s one of a few that are on rotation during your late night talks, and you know enough from the subtitles that you’ve seen this episode at least three times.

“Did you hear me?” you ask, reaching out to gently touch his arm with your fingertips.

Dean nods. His eyes still stay focused forward. “I heard you. I’m just… thinking.” He turns to look at you after a second. The furrow between his eyebrows is pronounced, and his lips purse ever so slightly as he searches your face. “Why? Are you—?” He glances down at your stomach, just for a split second.

Quickly, you shake your head and scoot closer on the couch so that your calf is pressed up against the side of his thigh. You reach out and grab both of his hands in yours. He turns slightly more towards you, and his thumb drifts over your knuckles as you answer,

“No. No, I’m not pregnant. I just…” You trail off and look down at your joined hands, trying to put thoughts to your words. Finally, you sigh and look back up at him, squeezing his hands. “When we were at your parents’ house, with Sam and Jess and their kids, you seemed really happy.”

“Those little guys are awesome,” Dean replies, chuckling lightly. The worried crinkle between his eyebrows relaxes at the memory. “I had no idea how much I’d really missed them until we got there. The videos you’d shown me on your phone weren’t nearly as good as the real thing.”

“It wasn’t just that. It was the way you cuddled and played with Jacob, and the way you held Ella and talked to her. You love them.”

“Of course I love them, Y/N, they’re my niece and nephew.”

His voice is patient as he gives you the reminder, and though you know that he isn’t trying to make you feel bad, you still find yourself searching for the right words to get your point across. You’re exhausted, and your thoughts are already scattered.

Maybe I shouldn’t have even brought it up, you think.

Nonetheless, you nod and squeeze his hands again. “I know. I just… It reminded me of all those conversations we had before you left, you know? And I see the way you look at babies and little kids whenever we’re in town. Anyone could tell that you want a kid of your own.” You pause and shake your head a little. “I don’t know, it’s late. Maybe I’m just thinking too much. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen, right? I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Releasing him, you rub your face with one hand and stand from the couch. He looks up at you, watching in silence as you gather your dinner dishes, along with the mug he’d been drinking from when you got home. Your stomach twists as you move, and though you hope he’ll speak up and put you out of your misery by giving you some kind of response, Dean says nothing.

“I should shower,” you tell him. The lights in most of the cottage living area are off already, and the light from the TV casts strange shadows over him and the couch. It’s enough light for you to see Dean already looking away from you, staring at the long wooden coffee table you’d bought from a thrift store shortly after starting at the camp.

As you pass by, however, he scoots forward on the couch and reaches out. His arm blocks your path and his hands rest on your opposite hip, holding you in place. Your heart skips a beat.

“I do want kids,” Dean admits, quieter than before. He holds your gaze. Though the room is dark, the hesitance in his expression is clear.

Has he been thinking about this too?

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, dishes still in hand as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, so you set the dishes on the side table to his right and take matters into your own hands.

“Yeah?”

Dean’s shoulders slump and he nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to bring it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? Why didn’t you want to bring it up?”

Carefully, you lower yourself to sit on his thigh with your back resting against the arm of the couch. You drape your legs over his lap. Dean reaches his arm behind you and holds your hip to help you keep your balance on his legs, and almost immediately his thumb is rubbing small arcs on your side, back and forth at a steady tempo. His other hand rests on your thighs. It’s warm over your legs, and you can feel his body heat even more where your shirt has come untucked, revealing the bare skin on your side where his thumb has found purchase. He’s almost too warm to be this close to him, but you can’t bear to complain, not after so many painful years apart. You rest one arm over his shoulders, and with the other you cup his cheek, turning his face so you can look at him properly.

“I was nervous that you’d changed your mind,” he admits. The low sound of the TV almost drowns him out, so much so that if you were any farther away, you’d be straining to hear him. “It’s been so long since we talked about it, and I wasn’t sure if that was still what you wanted.”

His next words go unspoken: with me. Dean has never expressed it outright, but you know that he still sometimes feels insecure about wearing his hearing aid and his struggle with PTSD from everything that happened overseas. You’ve joined him for several video sessions with his therapist, and you know that they’re working on strategies to deal with both of those things. You try not to interfere or give your opinions on his recovery—he needs a wife and a partner, not a second therapist—but you support him in every way you can without overstepping. You never want him to feel alone because of what he’s been through.

You lean in to kiss him on the cheek opposite your hand, and you smile gently as you say, “I love you, Dean. It’s still what I want, but even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t change things between us, at least not on my end. You’re still my main man, no matter what. Kids have never been the endgame. It’s always just been you.”

The lines on Dean’s face relax, smoothing out to reveal the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. They’re just starting to reappear now that the winter is fading and he can comfortably spend more time outside. Your stomach untwists as he smiles back at you. He shifts the hand on your hip and squeezes it just a little.

“I love you too, Y/N. No matter what.”

Dean kisses you on the lips, and it’s long, slow, and sweet. He’s warm against you. You’re bone-tired, but you close your eyes and kiss back, soaking up his warmth and the feel of being in his arms after a long day at work. It’s heavenly. You never would have predicted this moment a year ago. If someone had told you that Dean wasn’t dead and that he’d find you at New Moon, and that you’d be having a conversation at one in the morning about having kids, you would’ve thought they were crazy. Now, however, you’re just grateful.

After a few moments, Dean eases his arm under your legs instead of resting it over them, then stands. He carries you to the bedroom and you relax in his arms, keeping your eyes closed for the short walk. When he sets you down on the edge of the bed, you open your eyes to look up at him. You brace your hands on the mattress behind you to keep from toppling backwards as the memory foam dips under your weight.

“I don’t want to stress about this,” you tell him. “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t help anything. If it happens, it happens.”

He nods in agreement, then yawns. You chuckle and sit up a little more so you can stand without fighting against the mattress. Dean always complains that it’s too soft, but you like the way you can sink into it after a long day.

“Get to bed, soldier,” you order, patting his arm. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

A month ago, Dean had decided he was ready to get back to work. You’d offered to put him on the payroll at camp as a maintenance worker or groundsperson, but he’d opted for an online position, at least for the time being. It’s a dull job compared to his work with the military. Secretly, you’re thankful that he’s chosen a safe route and that he’s feeling well enough to get back to work, but you also worry a little. For as long as you’ve known him, Dean’s been a hands-on type of person. He likes to build and fix and create. His therapy appointments are virtual too, which means that he spends most of the day cooped up in the cottage, sitting at the kitchen table or on the couch in front of a laptop. Not only is it not the healthiest thing for him physically, you know that he pushes himself to work harder than anybody should, simply because the job seems so much easier than what he used to do. Plus, being that he’s home most of the day, he’s taken on most of the cottage upkeep, cooking, and shopping so that you can spend as much time together as possible whenever you are home. You don’t mind that as much, but it does make you feel a little guilty.

“I’ll wait for you to be out of the shower,” he replies, but you shake your head.

“It’s okay. You’ve waited up long enough for me, De. You need to sleep—you’ve been burning the candle at both ends just so you can see me in the morning and at night, and I’m starting to get worried. You were falling asleep during your meeting the other day when I came home for lunch, remember?”

“I’m fine,” he insists.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around his waist, reaching up until your hands press against the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades. Your cheek presses up against his chest and you close your eyes again. He returns your embrace, and after several long moments, you feel his body relax against yours.

I could go to sleep right here, you think with a tiny smile.

“Come on,” you say as you finally pull away, then pat him on the chest with one hand. “Go lay down. I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Get the bed warm for me.”

He nods in agreement, and you step away. You hurry to get your pajamas from the dresser before heading into the bathroom. Dean had changed long before you’d gotten home, as he always did on late nights like these. You need to shower, but you know Dean would force himself to stay up until you’re ready to go to bed too, no matter how much you push him and try to coerce him to take care of himself first. You’re exhausted, too, and the thought of having to shower before you can crash isn’t appealing.

So, you forgo your normal shower and stick with simply washing your face and brushing your teeth after changing into the pajamas. You can shower in the morning, even though it means you’ll need to change the bedding sooner than usual. Though it isn’t quite as hot as it normally is this time of year, the humidity makes everything sticky, and you’ve spent most of the day outside. A thin layer of sweat coats your skin, making even your pajamas feel gross.

When you turn off the light and step out of the bathroom, Dean looks up from the book he’s grabbed from his nightstand. It’s a novel, if you remember correctly, but you’re not sure what about. The cover picture has a cactus on it. It’s probably another western—he’s been catching up on some of his favorite authors since Sam convinced him to get a library card in December.

“You didn’t shower,” he notes, clearing his throat and sitting himself up further against the headboard. He doesn’t fool you, however. You know that he’s been nodding off instead of actually reading the library book. He’s been on the same page the past three nights.

“I’ll shower in the morning,” you reply. You throw your clothes in the hamper against the wall. “I need to change the sheets anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”

Dean hums and sets his book back in its place, then reaches over to pull the covers open for you. You climb into bed and wait until he’s dimmed the lamp beside his nightstand to cuddle up against him. The room grows darker once he does, and your eyes take a second to adjust, but you can still hear Dean’s dog tags clink as he shifts to get into a comfortable position with you at his side. You slip one arm over him, resting your hand on his chest as you close your eyes. To no surprise, it doesn’t take you long to fall asleep.

The next morning, Dean’s asleep when you wake up, which is a rarity. Despite the fact that you’re somehow still exhausted, you know that you need to get up before he does. If you doze until he’s awake too, he’ll want to get up and make you breakfast while you shower, meaning that he won’t get the rest he needs. His PTSD symptoms start rearing their ugly heads whenever he’s overtired, and you don’t want that for him.

Showering without waking Dean would be tricky, but after a few moments of lying in the dark, you find a solution. There’s a small bathroom attached to your personal office in the main camp building, and though you haven’t used it in a while, you know that it’s clean and that it still has your normal soap and shampoo. Before Dean, you spent most of your late nights sleeping on the futon in the office, then showering and dressing in the bathroom, rather than trekking all the way back to your cottage. You hadn’t had a reason to go all the way home back then, but now you do. The shower hasn’t been used in almost a year. This morning, however, it will come in handy.

As silently as possible, you roll out of bed and gather up the few toiletries you’ll need that aren’t already in the office bathroom. You pull on a pair of sweatpants over your pajamas, plus the faded Stanford hoodie you’d gotten in support of Sam shortly after marrying Dean. You grab a bag for the toiletries and a set of work clothes to change into after you shower, then shove your feet into a pair of sandals and slip out of the cottage to head towards the main cluster of buildings.

The sun is barely up. It casts an ethereal glow over the grassy field that separates your cottage from the rest of the camp. Dew dampens the path, and it makes wildflowers and the tips of grass blades glitter in the lingering sunrise. In the trees, birds sing and coo. The soft tap of your feet on the stones is the only other sound.

You pause to breathe in deeply, then exhale. Mornings at New Moon are special to you, especially after a long, stressful night. They remind you of why you stayed—every girl needs the peace and calm that the morning brings. They deserve it. You’ve certainly needed it many times yourself.

“You’re up early.”

You turn, already speaking as you meet Meg’s steady gaze. “I needed to shower, but I didn’t want to wake Dean. He’s been staying up late for me every night.”

She mutters something in acknowledgement, then tucks her phone in her jacket pocket as you close the distance to join her outside the only empty cabin, which she’s been checking for trespassers. It’s on the outskirts of the camp, and the four girls that had occupied it for most of last year transitioned to a more traditional foster home only last month. From what you’ve heard from their social worker, they’re on the path to reunification with their family.

Now that you’re closer, Meg’s giving you a strange, almost curious look, and you frown when she lifts her chin. Her eyes glitter with a secret.

“I’m a little afraid to ask,” you say, “but do you know something I don’t?”

She chuckles and crosses her arms in front of her. Her lips press together in a smug smile. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

Unsure of what she means, you start walking towards the office. Meg falls into step beside you, just as you knew she would.

“Fine, I suppose,” you slowly reply. You’re careful to give vague answers, just in case she’s looking to start a tiff just for her own amusement. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering.”

A minute of silence passes as you walk together, and the path changes from stone to gravel. It crunches beneath your feet, and all around you, life begins to stir in the cabins as the girls wake and get ready for the day. They’ll be coming outside with their counselors and gathering outside the dining hall within an hour, which means time is running out if you want to shower and have time to mentally prepare for the day.

Meg holds the office door for you and you mutter your thanks, then head down the hall to your personal office. You’re just reaching the door when she calls your name from the lobby.

Turning, you raise your eyebrows expectantly. She stands near the receptionist desk, her hands at her sides, and for a second, a genuine smile flashes across her face. It’s quickly replaced with her usual nonchalant look, however, so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure that you’d seen it. You must be more tired than you’d thought.

“You should take a test,” Meg says.

You frown at her, confused, and set your bag of clothes and toiletries at your feet, against the wall. “A test?”

She nods, widening her eyes as she repeats, “A test, Y/N. You know, the tests you keep in the first aid closet? For those rare, special emergencies?”

For a moment, you just stare at her. There are very few emergencies that you handle at the camp. True, due to the nature of your job, you’re trained in a litany of thing, ranging from first aid and de-escalation to basic animal control and building maintenance, all of which is in addition to your psychology degrees and training, but the rest of the camp staff is so well-trained that rarely do situations ever become actual emergencies that you need to handle.

If you’re handling a first aid emergency, however, you do basic triage before an ambulance can arrive. You keep most of the supplies in your office, both in a cabinet and in a bag, but there are also small first aid kits in all the cabins, as well as in every building and down by the lake.

You shake your head, a little baffled by Meg’s strange behavior and comments. Neither one of you needs any kind of first aid right now, at least not that you’re aware of. Turning, you reach for the doorknob on your office door, but you stop as soon as your fingers graze the metal. It’s as if lightning has struck you, and you immediately straighten, dropping your hand back down to your side as you whirl to face her again.

“What?” you exclaim, shocked at her brazen assumption. “Are you serious?”

She shrugs and leans against the wall opposite the desk, her arms once again crossed. Her stare, as always, is unrelenting, but suddenly it makes your skin itch with anticipation. Does she know something about you that you don’t? You pride yourself on being self-aware, but is it possible that you’ve missed something?

“You’ve been nauseous on and off for almost two weeks now, and you’ve been moody. More than some of the girls, actually,” she huffs.

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms, almost a mirror image of her. “Really? Moody? That’s your argument for this, Meg?”

“Don’t hurry to prove me right,” she teases, and you quickly drop your arms again, heat rising in your cheeks. “You’ve been constantly complaining of being too hot and then too cold all week, too. Didn’t you say that was one of the things your mother-in-law complained about when she was pregnant with Dean?”

It was, and a strange feeling rises inside of you now that you remember the conversation you’d had with Meg about it. How she remembered such a detail from a random discussion you’d had almost months ago is beyond you, but it doesn’t matter. She’s put the thought in your head, and with it comes another reminder—your period hadn’t come last month, and you’ve been due for almost a week now. If it was coming, it would have been here already.

You inhale shakily and give her a terse nod.

“Right,” you say. You smooth your hands over your thighs, trying not to seem so blown away by her hypothesis. “Okay. Okay. I’m—” Shaking your head, you close your eyes and try to focus on the mental to-do list you’ve made for yourself. Then, after a second, you grab your bag from the floor. “I have to shower.”

Meg nods. “Shower,” she repeats.

“I’ll see you later.”

She nods again, then turns on her heel and walks out of the building, leaving you standing in the hallway. You stay still for a second, listening to the front door open and close. Outside, Meg shouts at someone for standing on a bench, but the sound of her voice fades as she gets farther away from the building. Finally, you turn and open the door to your office, then quickly close it behind you.

You close your eyes and press one hand to your stomach, over the sweatshirt. It’s bulky over your pajamas. Logically, you know that if you are pregnant, the baby would still be too small to show, but it feels wrong not to feel for a baby bump now that it’s been suggested.

Not daring to get your hopes up just yet, you let your hand fall as you march to the locked metal cabinet in the corner of your office. It’s mounted to the wall and reaches almost to the ceiling, and the pregnancy tests are at the back of the top shelf. You don’t use them often, considering that New Moon is only for girls, but you keep them on hand just in case you need them for a new arrival. You’ll be lucky if the test is still good, considering you haven’t had to use one in so long.

You dump the bag from your cottage on the desk, then fumble with your keys until you find the right one. The bag falls over and knocks a pen off the desk, but you ignore it as you unlock the cabinet, pull over your rolling desk chair, and carefully climb up on it to grab one of the tests. After checking the expiration date, you tuck the flimsy cardboard box under your arm and head to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the cabinet or right the bag that’s tipped over and dumped onto your workspace. All thoughts of showering and getting ready for the day are gone. They’ve been replaced with a nervous energy that buzzes beneath your skin, making your fingers feel weak as you open the box.

The lock on the bathroom door is sturdy enough to help you feel a little bit more secure as you take the test, all the while trying to take deep breaths. Your heart feels like it’s beating too fast, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re nervous or excited. Maybe you’re both.

Calm down, Y/N! Freaking out isn’t going to help anybody!

You wash your hands and read the back of the box again, checking the wait time printed in tiny black letters. The test sits precariously on the countertop, in between the sink and the edge of the counter closest to the toilet, and you give it a wary glance before unlocking the bathroom door and going to sit in your office while you wait. After setting the timer on your phone, you end up pacing in front of your desk instead, from the wall to the futon and back again.

Finally, the timer goes off. You flinch at the loud ringing, then hurry to silence it. Your hands fumble with your phone and you stay tense when the office falls quiet again. Silently, you slip it back into your pocket and go back into the bathroom. When you reach the sink, you brace your hands against the front of the bowl, on the thinnest part of the counter. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long few seconds, pointedly not looking down at the test that’s resting only a few inches from your hands. Inside your chest, your heart pounds even harder than before and your hands shake. Everything feels so unsteady, from your head to your feet, and for a second, you worry that you might pass out. Closing your eyes, you try to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and to slow your racing pulse.

You’re reaching for the test on the counter when there’s a knock at your office door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

“Yes!” you yelp, almost too loudly. Your hand, outstretched and only an inch from the test, knocks it sideways, sending it clattering to the floor, along with a tube of toothpaste.

Dean calls for you again and you frantically scramble to right the bathroom. You practically throw the test onto the counter. It slides into the sink, and you’re pulling the bathroom door shut behind you just as Dean pushes the office door open from the hallway. He meets your eyes and you force a smile that you hope seems normal.

“You left before I was up,” he says. He’s dressed already, in jeans and the green jacket you’d got him for his birthday, and his hair looks damp from the shower.

Accepting a kiss on the lips, you hum a little and let go of the door handle to wrap your arms around his waist. Can he feel your heart beating too hard inside of your chest? What about your hands trembling against his back?

“I needed to shower and I didn’t want to wake you up. I have a shower here that I used to use when I was by myself.” You tilt your head back slightly, towards the door behind you.

Dean frowns. “You could’ve showered at home.” He looks down at you, and not only does his frown deepen, but the furrow between his eyebrows appears again. His worry lines are out in full force. “What’s wrong?”

Your stomach drops. Are you supposed to tell him? What if the test turns out negative? What if—?

“Sweetheart,” Dean soothes, pulling away so there’s space between the two of you. He takes your shaking hands in his and searches your face for an answer to his concerns. “What’s on your mind? I can see all the gears turning in there.”

The tips of his fingers touch your temple. You swallow thickly and look away. A line of dust lays gray on the hardwood where your old rug used to be. You moved it just last week to clean, but apparently, you’d missed it.

“Did I do something?”

Frantic, you shake your head and find his eyes. “What? No! No, of course not.”

“Then what is it?” Dean steps closer, crowding close in a tentative way that allows you enough time to move away, if you want. You don’t, and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathe in his scent and soak in his warmth. Your hands move to clutch the sides of his shirt, pulling him infinitely closer until your front is pressed against his again. Then, for the first time all morning, you relax. Your shoulders slump and you rest your forehead against him.

“I think…” you finally say after a minute. You take a breath, willing the words out on your next exhale. “I think I might be pregnant.”

There’s silence in the moments that follow, and though you know he’s probably just processing the news, it kills you. You stay frozen in place, unable to move as you wait for Dean to speak.

Finally, you release his shirt and step back, just enough that you can see his face without tilting your head at too uncomfortable of an angle. He’s staring at the closed bathroom door behind you, with both eyebrows raised and with long creases along his forehead. His whole body is tense and the longer he stares at the door, the deeper the furrow between his brows becomes.

“Dean?” you prompt. “Say something, please.”

“You think? Or you know?” His voice is hoarse and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, then looks back down at you.

“I don’t know. I took a test. I was just about to look at it when you knocked.”

“Oh.” His eyes flick up again, over your shoulder at the door, then down to your face. The second hand on the wall clock ticks as you stand near each other, Dean processing the news and you holding your breath as you wait for a more concrete response from him. The ticking feels louder than it did before. Has it always been that loud?

His fingers against your cheek make you look away from where you’ve been watching the black plastic line clunk around the circumference of the clock face.

“What do you want it to say?” Dean asks.

You inhale shakily and search his eyes, hoping for an answer to the question. “What do you want?” you ask in return.

Dean shakes his head, then runs his hand over your shoulder and down your arm until he can lace his fingers with yours. You glance down at your joined hands, unsure of why he’s not answering. He’d told you only just last night that he wanted kids. His hesitation makes you wonder if something’s changed in only just a few hours.

“It’s not up to me. It’s your body, Y/N.”

The words tumble out before you can even formulate the thought. “I just wasn’t expecting this so soon. I thought we’d have more time with just the two of us. What if this changes everything? What if it’s not everything we thought it would be?”

“We’ll still have time together,” he tells you, gently squeezing your hand. “It just might be less than we’d anticipated.”

“Would it even be a good thing if I was pregnant now? I know you said last night that it’s what you wanted, but we also said—”

“We said that if it happens, it happens,” Dean interrupts. “And if it’s happening now, then that’s a good thing. If it happens later, that’s also a good thing.”

You nod and take another deep breath. The butterflies in your stomach are out in full force. You have to close your eyes as you take breaths, trying to stave off the sudden wave of nausea that accompanies your worries. Dean’s hands in yours keeps you grounded as you breathe through your nose.

When you’re finally feeling more settled, you open your eyes and silently glance behind you at the bathroom door.

“You want me to wait out here?” Dean asks.

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. Tears burn in your eyes, and you wipe them away with one hand, embarrassed by your reaction. “Why am I so scared? We just said that this is supposed to be a good thing.”

Dean squeezes your hand again. “This is a big thing, Y/N. It’s okay to be scared. I can be brave for both of us, okay?” He smiles a little, his lips pressed together, and you nod in response, inhaling deeply through your nose.

You feel stuck in place. Part of you wants to go look at the test, but another part of you is rooted to the floor, keeping you in this moment. The results of the test could turn your life upside down for the second time in a year, and you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that. What if you aren’t a good parent? What if you aren’t able to do your job while you’re pregnant? What would you do instead?

“Hey.”

You blink, then meet Dean’s eyes again. Another tear rolls down your cheek and you sniffle, wiping it away with the back of your free hand. His smile has disappeared, and now he watches you with a concerned frown that makes his lips turn downward at the corners and makes the wrinkle between his eyebrows reappear.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, sweetheart. We’re in this together, and I’m with you no matter what. Do you want me to look first?” he asks.

After a few seconds, you nod. You don’t know what to say, but you know it won’t matter to Dean whether you speak or not. He’ll do and be whatever you need in this moment, just like he always does.

He releases your hand and carefully steps around you, opening the bathroom door to retrieve the test from the sink. You’d left the light on in the bathroom when you’d shut the door, and now it floods your office from behind you. Dean’s footsteps are soft and his jacket rustles as he picks up the test, and you hold your breath as you listen for some kind of sign or clue as to the results. When there isn’t any, you turn in a circle to look at him.

“What’s it say?”

His profile gives you very little information about the results, and you take a tentative step forward when he doesn’t move or say anything. Maybe he just didn’t hear you? His bad ear is on the other side, but it’s still possible.

“Dean?” you prompt, stepping closer a second time. You wonder if he’s disappointed and that’s why he hasn’t said anything. The thought makes you nauseous again.

“You’re pregnant,” he answers. His voice shakes as he stands staring down at the plastic stick. It’s so small in his hand, and an image of him cradling a tiny newborn flashes in your mind.

You freeze a few feet from the bathroom threshold. “It’s positive?”

He nods and looks up, meeting your eyes. Tears glisten on his lower lash line, and you press your hands over your mouth, inhaling deeply as your heart leaps inside your chest. The wrinkle between his brows is gone once again, replaced with the kind of shock you’ve only seen a few times, the first being when you’d told him you’d loved him all those years ago.

“We’re having a baby,” Dean tells you, letting out a laugh. A smile grows on his face as tosses the test onto the counter and closes the distance between you in two long steps. He crushes you against him in a tight hug.

Too shocked to hug him back, you let Dean wrap his arms around you and lift you off the ground. Your feet dangle for a second before your instincts catch up with you. Hurriedly, you move your hands from your mouth to his back as your legs come up to wrap around his waist. You bury your face in the crook of Dean’s neck as you smile. Your cheeks already ache and you’re blinking away tears, but it doesn’t matter.

“We’re having a baby!” you exclaim. He spins around with you in his arms, and you push away from his neck and pull one hand from his shoulders so you can cradle his cheek in your palm.

Dean’s eyes are alight with joy, making the green of his irises seem even more vibrant in the morning sunshine coming in from the office window. Your smile matches his as the scruff on his jawline scratches at the soft skin of your palm.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” you tell him, gently rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re gonna be a great dad.”

He takes a few steps, then sets you down on the only clear space on your desk, beside the bag you’d brought with you this morning. You let your legs fall from around his waist so they bracket his hips, but you don’t drop your hand from his face.

“I love you,” Dean says. He brushes the backs of his knuckles over your abdomen, and you laugh when it tickles. There’s no bump yet, but the effect is all the same. Dean smiles wider, his eyes flicking to your stomach, then back up to your face. “I love both of you.”

You laugh and pull him down for a kiss. “We love you too, Dean Winchester. Forever and ever.”

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imaginesforfandom · 1 year ago

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Heartbeat Symphony

AHHHH i love this man too much lmao. this is short and sweet so have fun my lovelies!

how have i not written for this man yet like-

Dean Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used

Summary: After a long day on the road, the couple finds solace in the comfort of the Impala. The story explores the quiet moments between hunts, emphasizing the deep connection and love they share. Back at the bunker, they unwind together, appreciating the simplicity of being a team both in and out of the field. The narrative highlights the strength of their bond and the sense of home they find in each other's company.

Heartbeat Symphony

Dean Winchester sat in the driver's seat of the Impala, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel as he glanced over at you. The rhythmic hum of the engine was the backdrop to the comfortable silence that filled the car. You had been on the road for hours, chasing down the latest lead on a case, and now the two of you were finally heading back to the bunker.

As Dean drove, he stole glances at you, appreciating the way the soft glow from the dashboard highlighted the contours of your face. The quiet moments between hunts were just as precious as the action-packed ones. He reached over, fingers brushing against yours, and a warm smile formed on his lips as he interlaced them.

"You doing okay, Y/N?" Dean asked, his voice a soothing melody that echoed through the Impala.

You nodded, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. "Yeah, just tired. Ready to get back and hit the hay."

Dean chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of you. "Well, we make a damn good team, don't we?"

You smirked, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "The best. Team Winchester."

As the familiar sight of the bunker came into view, Dean couldn't help but feel a swell of contentment. The two of you had been through so much together, and yet, every moment felt like a new adventure with you by his side.

Once inside the bunker, you kicked off your boots and flopped down onto the worn-out couch in the library. Dean joined you, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed against each other. He reached for the TV remote, flicking through the channels until he found an old black-and-white movie.

"You know," Dean said, his arm finding its way around your shoulders, "we make a pretty good team in and out of the field."

You laughed, snuggling closer. "Yeah, we do. I wouldn't want to hunt monsters with anyone else."

Dean turned his head, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Me neither, Y/N."

The movie played in the background, but you found yourself more captivated by the steady cadence of Dean's heartbeat. It was a comforting symphony, a reminder that you were home, safe in the arms of the person you loved.

As the night wore on, you both drifted off to sleep on the couch, tangled together in a mess of limbs and blankets. The bunker echoed with the quiet sounds of the TV and the distant hum of the machinery that kept the place running.

In the darkness, Dean whispered words of love, promises, and gratitude, knowing that every day with you was a gift. And as you slept, you couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of his love surround you like a protective embrace. Together, you faced the challenges that came your way, hand in hand, heart in heart, a team bound by something stronger than any supernatural force – love.

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i loved writing this OMG!! i can't believe i haven't written for Dean yet. i absolutely adore him so so much lmao

#dean winchester #dean #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester oneshot #dean oneshot

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deanwbigbang · 3 months ago

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No Direction Home by amypond45 | art by midnightsilver dean x sam, E, 15k

Dean is overwhelmed with guilt when Jessica dies at the end of the pilot. Sure that it’s his fault, he leaves Sam and runs, eventually finding a witch who agrees to alleviate his suffering by removing his memories. But what Dean doesn’t count on is losing his memories of Sam, and when a handsome young man starts haunting his dreams, Dean’s life changes forever.

fic (lj) | art

Free To Be You, Me, and a Baby by Ophelia_Yvette | art by Morokolli dean & emma, dean & sam, dean & cas, T, 12,7k

Seattle was wet—that was just a fact of life. Seeing the sun was like seeing a unicorn in the sky. It’s why Dean never liked coming here, it was much too rainy for his liking. Rain is fun when you’re a child splashing in puddles but as an adult it’s just one more way your day can be ruined. Dean tried not to think about Sam—where he was, what he was doing. He wasn’t here and now Dean was stuck with Castiel as his partner for this hunt. Dean wondered if he was sitting on a beach down here drinking Mai Tais. Or if he’d taken a page out of Dean’s own book and was drowning his sorrow’s somewhere in a bar? He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts—he needed to focus on the case, not on Sam.

fic | art

A Distant Memory by SamandDean76 | art by QueenSilber dean x sam, E, 10,3k

Dean is an Omega on the streets, just trying to survive. He is picked up and taken back to an opulent condo, where he is told to clean himself up and await his Alpha. The problem being that Dean can barely remember who he is, let alone who his mystery Alpha might be. And he is being plagued by alternating visions. He is either a desperate Omega, half-starved and filthy, or he is dressed for success in a tailored power suit. Every time he catches a glimpse of his reflection, his reality alters. Sam is trying his damnedest to save Dean, his soulmate who defended himself after Zachariah assaulted him. But the punishment rendered has left Dean unable to distinguish his true reality. Together with Castiel, Sam works to save Dean and punish the monster who led to them being cast out of heaven.

fic | art

Virgin Veins by ratzeebatz | art by TwinOne dean x cas, M, 22,9k

After Deans’s failed suicide attempt at an unnamed cliff in Kansas, he’s followed by Castiel- a man who claims to be an angel with a mission. His only job on Earth is to protect Dean Winchester, but all Dean wants is to get drunk and sleep forever. But Castiel is insistent, and a journey to reconnect with Sam and their missing Father makes both Castiel and Dean rethink their purpose and what they were meant to be all along.

fic | art

The Ball’s In Your Court by markofcain | art by MasoenArt (Masoena) dean x cas, E, 12,5k

Inspired by Challengers (2024) movie Dean and Castiel were once best friends turned teenage lovers, competing together in junior tennis championships. But Dean’s struggle to accept his sexuality ultimately drove them apart, leaving Cas to abandon his career altogether. Now, five years later, Dean has become a star tennis player, while Cas has rebuilt his life as the coach of top women’s player Elena Ivanova. Their paths haven’t crossed since their painful split—until Dean signs up for a charity match, where his doubles partner turns out to be none other than Cas’s protégé, Elena. While Dean assumes Cas must resent him, he soon discovers that might not be the case. Can Dean finally confront his past mistakes and win back the love of his life?

fic | art

In My Time Of Need by jdl71/jld71 | art by MasoenArt (Masoena) dean x sam, E, 68,8k

After working a case in the idyllic seaside city of Port Townsend, Sam and Dean have a fight. Angry, Dean leaves, needing to drive and maybe stop at a bar where what he thought playing a harmless game of pool leads to a fight that leaves him bruised and broken. Waking in the hospital with Sam by his side, his memory is affected, leading him to mistakenly believe that he and Sam are mated.

fic | art

#dean winchester #dean fanart #dean fanfic #deanwbigbang #supernatural #supernatural big bang

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soaringeag1e · 1 year ago

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Christmas Boredom

Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language?, A Mix of Sadness and Fluffiness

Words: 782

Main Masterlist - Patreon

A light dusting of snow was leftover from a bit of snowfall earlier in the week, but nothing that jeopardized the roads too much. Christmas was right around the corner and honestly, it felt different this year. In a good way though. A really good way.

Needing some things for dinner and just a few things to stock up the cabinets at home, you had run out to the store along with a trip to the post office and stopping for gas plus a few other things that came to mind while you were out. Needless to say, instead of spending just a couple hours out and about, you were gone for more than five hours. But you felt accomplished, your to-do list was now crossed off.

Once you pulled down your street, you admired all the decorations that your neighbors have been putting up over the past few weeks, loving how creative a lot of them were. It’s only when your eyes catch a certain batch of new decor that you become a bit shocked.

Pulling into your driveway, you can’t take your eyes off the roof as you put your car in park. Leaving the groceries for the moment, you climb out, your eyes glued to the top of your house as you walk a little closer. Your smile slowly comes back along with an excitement within you as you look over the string of lights that somehow just decided to blanket your house for the season.

“I can’t tell if you’re in the Christmas spirit or if you’re just bored!” Those gorgeous green eyes you love so much eventually pop out from behind a large snowflake decoration that’s standing tall on the shingles and then something else you love joins them. That damn smirk of his.

“Uh…both!” The man admits before securing the snowflake for good and then he turns to climb off the roof. You know he’s perfectly capable of doing such a task, but the thought of him falling still makes you nervous.

When his boots land on solid ground, he turns, his smile growing as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, melting your heart and probably even the snow around you.

“Hi.” his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine and always has. You love it just as much as you love him.

“Hi.” When your eyes go to scan his handy work, his green orbs drop to the snow at your feet before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to not look up weird things or to check the news for suspicious activity?” Your expression softens. “I mean…I am trying so hard but it’s just…” he huffs, slapping a hand to his thigh as he scans the neighborhood.

Feeling his struggle, you step forward and place your hands on his cheeks. He seems too ashamed to look you in the eye at first, but eventually he does. But you can see how bad he’s beating himself up for all this.

“I want this.” he admits, his voice coming off crackly. “I really do. I want you to know that.”

“I do know that.” you tell him, your voice as soft as your touch. But he still hates himself for struggling with the normal life.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you tell him, a little more firmly. Your hands press a little tighter on his face as you force him to look at you once again. “It’s hard. I know it is and I am so proud of you.” he scoffs, not because he doesn’t believe you but because you know that he doesn’t think there’s anything for you to be proud of. “Hey. You’re doing better than you think.” He tries to hide his eye roll, but you know him too well. “One day at a time.”

“I just don’t want to let you down.” Hearing that hits you hard. Your chest starts to hurt and tears instantly fill your eyes.

“You’re not.” you tell him as strongly as you can, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be. “I swear to you that you’re not.” With tears in both your eyes, Dean leans in again, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Now…” you get out when he takes a second to breathe, getting him to hold off on another kiss. “If you end up going on a hunt and lie to me about it? That’s a different story.” That’s what brings his grin back.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Damn straight you won’t. Because you’ll be taking me with you.” Dean’s smile grows before he captures your lips again.

“That’s my girl.”

#Christmas Boredom #Merry Christmas #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader christmas #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine

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aloneatpeace · 1 year ago

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SHADOW OF THE PAST

Chapter one

┌───── •✧✧• ─────┐

New home

└───── •✧✧• ─────┘

.→✒️:★: ͜͡✿͜͡ →. So this is a fic as usual the main protagonist is reader along with Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester from supernatural. There will other characters as well .

Im hoping to write this fic as horror / paranormal au . Hopefully it come together like that .

So that's it enjoy the fic please please tell me what you think and i appreciate every single of you reading my all fics thank you ❤️

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

The warm sunlight's glade through the open windows curtains as you and you and your love of your life lay peacefully. Never in million year you thought that you will get to live the dream life you always wanted with guy you hopelessly and enormously in love with, an energic dog that always love to steal your attention every time he waltzes in, a peaceful home where you don't have to worry about anything nor your family chewing on every breath you take or friends who always around when they only wanted something. This is all you wanted, needed and dreamed off.

"What is going on that pretty head of yours? "

you heard his in raspy morning voice, The voice that you would love to hear for all eternity. You glanced at him to see his mesmerizing green eyes staring back you.

" Just thinking about how life is awful back then "

You said with laughing following in behind he joins in with you. Seeing the pure happiness on your face making his heart flutters. He could help but put his arms around you and pulled you closer to his side and you both sigh at feeling of being in each other's arms. The pure blissful moment was interpreted when a golden fluffy ball come in between the two of you and made himself home in your chest.

" Sometimes, I wonder if he is trying to steal you from me "

Your husband says and you chuckle and rub your dog's ear.

"Aww but I love you babe, don't worry your still my favorite"

max who probably smarter than average dogs you looked at you with what you assume 'are you serious ' face at you.

"I'm kidding" you whispered

"I heard that " comes from your husband who getting himself out of the bed and going to bathroom.

"So are you going to work today or are you going help unpack the boxes because there is a lot and i don't want to do it all by myself" the two of you moved in new house for fresh start leaving everything behind and having new start is what you always wanted and luckily your husband also happy about that idea.

" Trust me I don't want leave you alone especially when we are new in this area and doesn't really know how the people in here. But you know I have to go to the station".

It's true after all being with you where he felt more alive and happier and your happiness also what he gives importance to. Starting a relationship with you, falling in love with you, marrying you was the best things that happened to him and he wanted to give you everything and make you smile every day.

" It's okey Dean, I'm so thankful for what you done for me and love you so much "

You said coming behind him wrapping arms around his bare middle.

" I love you too sweetheart, you know I do anything for you my soul "

He turn around to see you lifting your chin up to look at him and he brushes his thump on your lower lip as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss that rich in love and passion, one that makes your knees weak and heart to rush. his hands moving down your body desperately try get closer to as possible.

tugging on the shirt that he wore last night. his mind racing with last night's memory of how you looked up to him with the needy look on your face as he gives himself to you and how you tasted like fine dessert that still lingering in his tongue every time making him wanting more and take him on another level of ecstasy.

The bliss full moment where neither of you don't want to leave but with Shakey breathe you parts away from him. Before you can speak, he picks you up making you squeak as he continues to move a loud break the two of you as both turn to look at your dog who running towards you. You both look at each before laughing out loud.

"See every time he does this shit, man she is my wife. find someone else"

Dean put his head in neck as you still in his arms as you still laughing.

" Laugh all you want, wait till I get one puppy who loves me and I give all my love and attention to the puppy " he says with a challenging look as he puts you down.

you exit the bathroom to bedroom squeezing your dog in big hug as both make way your way to kitchen.

" Don't burn down the kitchen please we still new " He shouts form bathroom.

" No promise " you say back. You can hear his laugh as you made it to the kitchen.

You look around "That's a lot of boxes "

If your memory was correct, you put some milk and bread in the fridge with couples of things that you don't remember. As you open the fridge you hear sounds of running in living room

"Hey,no running around the room max"you say as you collect the things you need in hands and close the fridge with your foot. As you turn you see max standing in top of one of the boxes in the kitchen his ears sharp staring at living room and starts to bark.

" Hey boy, you want something " He turn to you and come towards you and lay down beside your foot looking up you with round eyes.

You crouch down next to him give him pat on his head.

" How about we have a walk around and how some fun time? How about that" He barks with enthusiasm.

" Good boy " You go back to making breakfast as dean comes wrapping his around your waist giving a kiss on your head.

" You didn't burn down the kitchen woah that's an improvement".

As you open your mouth to defend yourself he cuts you off with kiss" Don't say it's one time it still happened "He starts to take a sip of his coffee and hums.

"Okey I won't, hey I was thinking maybe taking max for a walk get know the place around "you said take a sip of your own coffee.

" Yeah, that good idea, but if you need anything don't hesitate to call okey " he said finishing his own coffee and having some breakfast.

You slap his butt when he gets up "are you assaulting a officer?'" he dramatically gasp at you

"Oh shut, up as if you don't like it "

He shakes his head at you before getting up to leave and as he passes, he rubs max on his back." Hey buddy take care of our girl will ya "and move to the front door.

" Good luck with work I really hope everything will work out I really likes this place" you said following behind him with files on hand.

You hand that him as you reach the front step

" Me too sweetheart, I love you, now give me a good luck kiss" he says pulling you towards him with a smile on his face.

You let out a small giggle and kiss him passionately.

He parts ways from you giving you cheeky wink and get in his car and look back at you mouthing 'I love you ' you repeat the same as drive away.

Both of you not seeing that shadow that watching you form the inside.

You make your way inside the house.Max was biting a box that labeled his name

" alright we unbox some and then we take a walk "a bark was all your answer.

Opening max's box first you give him his toys and move on to next and then to next.

You don't know how many hours passed but you are down to the last box.

You collect the wrapping and torn boxes into a trash bag and walk towards the trash can to dumb it.

"Are you the new resident of this house?" a female voice behind you said. You turn around seeing a woman standing there with a smile on her face.

"Yeah, we just moved here." You tell her feeling her presence only out of pure curiosity

"I'm Amy Peterson, I live down the street with my family. What's your name?"

You tell her your name "well, welcome to our neighborhood. It's a very quiet here but its peaceful. And you don't have worry about noisy neighbor since all the house are in a decent amount of distance"

Nodding your head at the it's also a main reason you and dean decided to move to her. "Yeah, it's nice..." before you can continue max comes running towards you when he saw you chatting with stranger abandoned his toy that he is chewing

You ruffle his hair beside his ears as he stands next you. "Oh, he is beautiful. is it you and this cute alone here?"

You shake your head with a smile on your face "no I'm with my husband."

"you're married, what does he do?" she asks

"Yeah, he is cop" you said proudly

She gives a wide smile "that's wonderful. Good thing now we have cop living here" she laughs. "See you soon, I have to go before my kids flip the house upside down the"

You sigh at her retrieving foam "well good to know we have nice neighbor. Isn't it."

Getting in shower you let the cold water pour down your head and shoulders washing away the soreness. You change into leggings and white sweater combing your hair until you're satisfied with a result. As you promised you took max out for a walk.

Dean was getting to know his co-workers at the station. He assigned with a man named Castiel. "So how you like in it here?" Castile, ask he shows the towns map and some report files with data of some local criminals. "Too early to answer that" he answers observing the file.

"I suppose it is, but our crime rate not that high aside from some random robberies other than that it's quite peaceful here."

"Yeah, my wife always wanted live in quite nice place" dean said "You have wife huh! Seems like those ladies don't know that yet" castile said making dean look up to see two females smiling at their direction dean and Castiel share a chuckle.

You were watching tv when dean came in, max run towards dean huffing demanding for pets from the man.

"You unpacked everything huh?" dean ask he take off his uniform

You nod without taking your eyes off the tv "yep, and I met one of our neighbors and took max out for a walk"

Finally taking off his uniform he pushes your legs apart and lay between them head laying on your chest you run your fingers through his hair making him groan. "Who is this neighbor?"

"Amy Peterson, just street down. How was your day?"

"It was great, apparently there aren't really much of crime here, so that a good thing. My partner also from here castile, seems like great guy" dean glance up at you with a serene look on his face "seems like everything is in favor, baby" he takes in your peaceful relaxed face, that was gone for a past couple of moths but its back now and he never felt so grateful for that.

Your eyes find his face a large grin on your face so it's transferred to his lips as he pulls himself towards you pressing his full lips on yours slowly knowing that he has all time in the world just savoring the feeling of you. You tilt your head side to get deeper hands gripping each other.

Dean hands grip your hip as he presses himself closer to you to feel you near him as close as possible, his grip get stronger as he starts to tug down the waistband of the leggings something fall down in the hallway.

"Shit something broke?" you get with dean as you both walk towards the hallway, a broken glass from the picture that you hung scattered on the floor.

Max walks towards it but dean held him back not wanting him to get hurt "hey you both stay there. I'll clean it up" he said

"You sure?" you ask he nods at you. Taking max with you, you both returns to couch max lie next you his eyes blinking up to you. You ruffle his hair cuddles to him.

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 1 year ago

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Bunny Slippers: Chapter Two

Summary: Julia shares the research John had asked her help with, giving the brothers a small insight into what led to their father disappearing. Is it possible that John not only put his sons in danger but also the Blackburns?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with violence and angst, maybe slow burn

Word Count: 6,408 words

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the previous chapter and for all your support. I hope this chapter is just as enjoyable for you! I have had this story in the drafts for a while, using it as an excuse to avoid doing my research proposal... Also s/o to Ness and my thesaurus

(gif from Pinterest)

The initial jolt of hearing the "Yellow-Eyed Demon" mentioned had sent a shockwave through Dean, but it quickly settled into a focused urgency. They fell into a rhythm, each leafing through the contents of Julia and John's collective research, a dance of minds across the pages.

Sam was absorbed in a notebook, the elegance of Julia's script weaving through the more rugged annotations of their father. Dean, positioned across the table, glanced intermittently between the lines of text and Julia, who was gracefully navigating the bookshelves in search of a volume Sam had inquired about. Her movements were a silent ballet, her curls keeping time with her search until she found her mark.

"Aha!" The sound was a soft triumph. Dean watched, a half-smile playing on his lips, as Julia stretched on her tiptoes, reaching for an ancient cloth-bound book just beyond her grasp.

Before she could concede to the shelf's height, Dean was on his feet, moving towards her. His fingers brushed hers as they both reached for the elusive book. "Let me help with that, short stuff," he offered, his voice low and playful.

Julia glanced over her shoulder, and as her eyes traced the path up his chest to meet his gaze, Dean realized just how close he was, her scent enveloping him like a sweet spell. "Actually," she murmured, her hand dropping away as she adjusted her glasses, "that would be great. Thank you."

His heart thrummed a more animated rhythm, and with an easy reach, he retrieved the book. Handing it to her, he didn't miss the brief flicker of her eyes to his arm and back to the book, a silent acknowledgment of his strength.

"There you go, just your friendly neighbourhood book retriever at your service," he quipped with a wink, handing her the tome. "But if you need someone to reach the high notes—or anything else—just let me know." His smile was as cheeky as his words, his flirtation unmistakable yet light-hearted, a playful offer hanging in the library air.

Julia's smile was a mix of amusement and a touch of bashfulness as she accepted the book from Dean. "My very own hero," she teased, giving him a playful shoulder bump that spoke of a burgeoning camaraderie. She then turned towards the table, eager to share her find with Sam.

As Julia started explaining the contents of the book to Sam, he listened intently, his expression a blend of professional interest and brotherly concern. He managed to sneak a quick, warning glare at Dean, silently urging him to tread carefully in this dance of flirtation and research.

As Julia excitedly shared her findings, the rhythmic sound of footsteps ascending the stairs punctuated the room's quiet buzz of concentrated study. Rob, appearing at the archway with a tray laden with sandwiches, announced his contribution to the day's efforts with a warm smile. "Since I couldn't assist with the bookwork, I thought I'd at least keep the researchers fed," he said, his voice carrying the comforting timbre of familial care.

"Thanks, Dad," Julia responded, her voice a mixture of gratitude and a touch of embarrassment as she shuffled papers around to make room for the food, surreptitiously concealing the more sensitive research materials from her father's unsuspecting gaze.

Rob's eyes swept over the trio, a smile of paternal pride playing on his lips as he witnessed their dedication. Dean, unable to resist the lure of a good sandwich, eagerly grabbed one, his actions bordering on comical in their haste.

Clearing his throat, Rob adopted a more conversational tone, "I'm off to the store for some dinner supplies," he announced casually, hands resting on his hips as if bracing for a light-hearted debate. "And I insist, you boys are staying over tonight. Julia's barely scratched the surface with what she's got to show you. For all I know, she's got an entire Encyclopedia Britannica of notes stashed away," he joked, affectionately ruffling Julia's hair, causing it to stand on end from the static. Julia, caught in the warmth of the moment, could only blush and smile, her heart swelling with love for her father.

Sam, always the diplomat, responded with a gentle sincerity that was characteristic of him. "Rob, that's incredibly generous of you, but we wouldn't want to overstay our welcome," he said, his voice infused with genuine concern for their imposition. He glanced at Dean, who was now trying to listen while simultaneously battling with the sandwich stuffed in his mouth, a silent plea for his brother to back him up.

Dean, momentarily pausing his enthusiastic eating, chimed in with his trademark blend of humor and charm. "Rob, you sure you know what you're signing up for here?" he quipped, a playful glint in his eye. "I mean, Sam's snoring could wake the dead, and I'm not exactly a light eater, as you can see." He gestured to the sandwich, now considerably diminished. "But if you're insisting, who are we to turn down such hospitality? Just prepare yourself for the full Winchester experience," Dean added, his tone light, yet laced with an underlying gratitude for the warmth and normalcy that Rob's invitation offered.Their focused discussion was interrupted by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. Rob appeared in the archway, his presence commanding yet affable. "I might not be of much use with the books, but I've prepared lunch downstairs. if you're all hungry," he announced with a warm smile.

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes, a gesture laden with affection and exasperation, as Dean's antics continued. Their banter was interrupted by Rob's voice, brimming with amusement and a touch of challenge. "No worries, boys. I've had my fair share of tussles with Winchesters in the past," he declared with a playful wink, signaling his departure with the soft clatter of keys and the closing of the front door.

The trio settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the sound of contented munching as they each enjoyed the sandwiches Rob had prepared. Julia, having claimed the last available seat beside Dean, quickly finished her meal and delved back into her research. She sifted through the piles of notes and books, determined to uncover any piece of information that could aid Sam and Dean in their quest.

As daylight began to wane, the boundaries between afternoon and evening blurred. Unnoticed by the trio, Rob returned, the soft sounds of dinner preparation echoing from the kitchen. In his absence, a seamless dynamic had formed among them: Sam, ever curious, peppered Julia with questions, while Dean contributed sporadically, often caught up in the fervor of Julia's animated explanations. Her hands danced through the air, accentuating her points with a flourish, her enthusiasm infectious.

The day's energy gradually dwindled, and the room fell into a serene quietude. Julia, now seated closer to Dean, was engrossed in an ancient tome, her fingers absentmindedly braiding a lock of her auburn hair as she concentrated. Dean watched, fascinated by the rhythmical dance of her fingers, the way they skillfully entwined her hair into a delicate braid only to gently unravel it moments later. A longing stirred within him to reach out, to brush her hair aside, to feel the softness of the braid beneath his fingertips. Yet, he restrained himself, his attention momentarily captured by the way Julia's hand paused, holding the braid in place, while the other turned the page, her focus unwavering. Dean's response was a wry smirk, his pen held lightly between his teeth, his arm casually resting on the back of Julia's chair, a silent observer to her studious fervour.

The evening had settled in fully now, the darkness outside pressing against the windows of the library. The room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of scattered lamps, casting long shadows between the rows of books. Julia, seated at the table, wrapped in the cocoon of their research, suddenly shivered, her skin pebbling with goosebumps. Dean, his arm casually resting across the back of her chair, noticed the subtle shake of her shoulders and the way she pulled her arms close.

"Hey, you cold?" Dean's voice was a low murmur, a gentle note of concern threading through it as he leaned in slightly, his hand moving instinctively to rub warmth back into her arms.

Julia offered a small nod, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a fleeting gesture of discomfort. "Yeah, just a bit. I'll go grab my cardigan," she replied, her voice a mix of gratitude and a self-deprecating chuckle for her own vulnerability to the chill.

With a helpful nudge, Dean slid Julia's chair back, giving her space to stand. She moved with a swift purpose across the room, her form briefly silhouetted against the windows that opened onto the back terrace. As she reached the bookshelf lined wall that seemed nothing more than an elegant feature of the library, she revealed its secret—a door concealed within the bookcases. She opened it, the shelves swinging away with silent grace, and slipped through into the room beyond.

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the hidden passage, a flicker of astonishment crossing his face. "Sammy, check this out," he called out, a note of disbelief mixed with admiration in his voice, beckoning his brother to witness the unexpected twist in their surroundings.

A few heartbeats slipped by, the library humming with the quiet sound of ticking clocks and the soft rustling of pages. Then, the hidden door within the bookshelf swiveled open once more, and Julia stepped back into the library. She was now clad in a cozy red cardigan adorned with oversized brown buttons, her fingers lingering on the spine of a book as she gently nudged the secret door closed behind her.

When she turned, she was greeted by Sam and Dean, who were both staring at her with expressions of startled curiosity. Their eyes were wide, the sort of look that comes from boys who have seen countless wonders yet still find themselves surprised by new magic.

"What's wrong?" Julia asked, her voice tinged with amusement at their astonished faces.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, their shock melting into boyish intrigue. "Wrong?" Sam echoed, his tone light with excitement. "That was just—well, that was awesome."

Dean, ever the one to embrace the unexpected with a mixture of charm and bravado, couldn't hide his grin. "I mean, secret doors? Hidden rooms?" he said, stepping closer to where Julia stood. "This is like something straight out of a mystery novel. You got any more surprises hidden in this place?" His voice was a mix of jest and genuine wonder, as if the discovery of the secret passageway had added another layer of intrigue to Julia herself.

Julia's laughter, light and musical, filled the room as she watched Dean's and Sam's reactions. "No, it doesn't lead to Narnia," she said with a wink, "just to my bedroom. Want a quick tour?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached for a book spine, pulling it to swing the door open once again.

They were greeted by a short hallway, its walls lined with various framed pictures and memorabilia. Directly across from the secret door was a small walk-in closet, and to their right, a door hinted at a bathroom. Julia led them to the left, towards her bedroom.

With a gentle push, Julia's bedroom door creaked open, and Dean stepped through the threshold into a world that was unmistakably Julia's. The room was a cozy sanctuary, walls painted in a rich, warm hue, adorned with shelves teeming with books, their spines a rainbow of worn colours and titles. A lush array of plants breathed life into the space, their leaves spilling over shelves and hanging pots, framing the window that looked out into the night.

The bed, a solid wood frame, was draped with a thick, multi-coloured quilt that spilled over the sides, its pattern reminiscent of the vibrant cover art of classic rock albums. Beside it, a nightstand held a small lamp, casting a warm glow over the room, and beneath it, a stack of classic rock CDs leaned against an old radio, their presence an echo of tunes that had undoubtedly filled the room many times over.

Posters of rock legends like Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones graced the walls, their corners slightly curled from age, sharing space with intricate tapestries that softened the room with their texture. The scent of incense lingered faintly, mingling with the earthiness of the plants.

Dean took a moment to absorb the details, his eyes lingering on the details that spoke volumes about Julia's personality—a fusion of intellect, nature, and rock 'n' roll. "This is... pretty cool," Dean admitted, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the tranquility of the space. "You've got great taste in music," he added, nodding towards the CDs with a grin.

Julia's reply came out in a bit of a jumble, the words tumbling over each other in a charming tangle. "Oh, uh—thanks," she managed, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She was just about to delve into a conversation with Dean when her father's voice, calling from the library, cut through their moment.

Back in the library, Rob stood framed in the archway, the light from the lamps casting a welcoming glow around him. "Hey, dinner's on the table, folks. Time to take a break and eat," he called out with an easy smile.

Julia's eyes lit up, a playful grin spreading across her face. "I'm so ready to eat, I could probably finish off the whole kitchen!" she exclaimed, her stomach seconding the motion with a well-timed grumble.

They watched as Rob retreated down the stairs, his footsteps echoing gently. Once he was out of earshot, Julia turned back to Sam and Dean, her expression shifting to one of urgency. "You guys head on down. I need to stash these papers away—Dad can't see this stuff," she said, her hands swiftly gathering the scattered documents into the folder she had used earlier to conceal their more secretive research.

The descent to the kitchen was a welcome break from the intensity of their research. Rob had prepared a simple yet hearty meal, filling the kitchen with the inviting aromas of homemade cuisine. The group gathered around the table, engaging in light, easy conversation that offered a brief respite from the weight of their task. There were laughs, shared stories, and an air of camaraderie that made the meal feel like a gathering of old friends rather than a recent acquaintanceship born of necessity.

After dinner, Sam and Rob, deep in discussion, migrated back to the living room, leaving Julia to start clearing the dishes. Dean, noticing her effort, felt a pull to lend a hand. He approached the sink where she was filling it with soapy water.

"Hey, let me give you a hand with that. Wouldn’t be right to enjoy your dad’s cooking and not help with the cleanup," Dean offered with a charming grin, rolling up his sleeves in preparation.

Julia looked up at him, her smile reflecting both surprise and appreciation. "That sounds like a plan. You wash, and I’ll dry," she proposed, her tone light and friendly.

As Dean plunged his hands into the sudsy water, he glanced at Julia and found an opening for a lighter conversation. "So, Van Halen, huh? Didn’t take you for a fan of the classics," he remarked, picking up a plate to wash.

Julia, drying a dish, chuckled softly. "Oh, I have a pretty eclectic taste in music, but yeah, Van Halen's definitely on the list. My dad and I used to jam to their tracks when I was a kid. It's like a time capsule of good memories," she shared, her eyes lighting up at the reminiscence.

"Can’t beat the classics," Dean agreed, his movements in sync with hers as they fell into a comfortable rhythm. "Their music's got this timeless edge, kind of like this place," he added, nodding subtly to the surrounding kitchen.

As they continued their task, Julia stood beside Dean, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. Each accidental touch sent a subtle current through the air, a silent acknowledgement of the chemistry building between them. The conversation flowed naturally, punctuated by shared smiles and brief glances, creating an atmosphere that was as warm and inviting as the kitchen they stood in.

As they worked side by side, Dean noticed Julia's striking green eyes and long lashes, focused on drying a plate. He remembered a photograph he had seen earlier on the mantelpiece, featuring a younger version of the people present, including a woman with auburn curls similar to Julia's. "That picture on the mantle, with your dad and my folks, that was your mom, wasn't it?" Dean inquired, trying to connect the dots.

Julia's lips curved into a small, proud smile. "You've got a sharp eye, Winchester," she replied, her pace slowing a bit as she engaged in the conversation.

Dean, curious yet cautious, ventured further. "And your mom? Where is she now?" he asked gently.

Julia paused, her gaze drifting to the courtyard visible through the kitchen window. "She... she passed away when I was eight," she said, a hint of sorrow in her voice. Before Dean could respond, she added, "It was a car accident."

Dean felt a pang of empathy, knowing all too well the pain of losing a parent at a young age. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly, his tone sincere. "Sam and I, we lost our mom too when I was just a kid. It's tough, losing someone like that.”

Julia glanced at Dean, her expression softening. "I'm really sorry you went through that too, losing your mom," she said gently, her hand reaching out to touch his arm in a comforting gesture. Dean offered a small smile, trying to play it cool despite the flutter in his chest from her touch.

As they wrapped up the kitchen duties, Julia handed the last dried plate to Dean along with the towel to dry his hands. "Here, looks like you might need this," she said with a light laugh, breaking the solemn mood.

Dean chuckled, drying his hands. "Thanks. You know, talking about Van Halen earlier got me thinking. What's your take on Led Zeppelin?" he asked, shifting the conversation to a lighter note as they started moving toward the living room.

Julia lit up at the change of topic. "Led Zeppelin? Now we're talking. 'Stairway to Heaven' is a masterpiece, but 'Kashmir' always gets me," she responded enthusiastically.

"Ah, 'Kashmir', that's a solid choice. I'm more of a 'When the Levee Breaks' guy myself," Dean admitted, as they lingered in the hallway, neither in a hurry to end their one-on-one time.

As they finally stepped into the living room to rejoin Sam and Rob, Dean and Julia shared a look, their eyes locking in a moment that seemed to stretch, charged with an unspoken understanding. The brief, intense connection was broken as they merged into the group, but the spark between them lingered in the air.

As they emerged into the living room, Dean and Julia exchanged a glance, their eyes holding a silent conversation that needed no words. It was a fleeting moment of connection, yet it seemed to hang between them, a subtle charge in the air that neither of them quite wanted to let go of.

They slipped into the flow of the evening seamlessly, their presence fitting into the ongoing conversation as if they had never stepped away. Laughter and the rich timbre of shared stories filled the room, the passage of time marked only by the deepening night outside.

Eventually, Rob glanced at the clock, a look of mild surprise crossing his face. "Well, I'll be—time's flown by," he commented with a chuckle, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

Julia, who had been captivated by Dean's animated recounting of a particularly wild hunt, was pulled back to the present by her father's words. She covered a yawn with her hand, the late hour catching up to her. "Guess it's about time to crash," she said, her words tinged with humour and a tired smile playing on her lips.

Everyone rose from their seats, stretching and sharing satisfied smiles after a night of good company. "All right, gentlemen, follow me. I'll show you where you'll be bunking tonight," Rob said, giving Sam a friendly pat on the back as he led the way to the stairs.

They all ascended the stairs, the soft murmur of their footsteps a contrast to the laughter that had filled the room moments before. At the second-floor landing, Julia paused, turning to the brothers with a gentle smile. "Good night," she offered, her voice soft, echoing the sweetness of the evening they had shared.

With a wave, she disappeared around the corner into her room, leaving the brothers to continue their ascent. Reaching the third floor, Rob pointed down the hall. "Your rooms are right over there. Mine's just back this way if you need anything," he said, giving them a nod before retreating to his own space and closing the door with a quiet click.

Dean and Sam each chose a door, finding themselves in rooms that mirrored each other in their simple, understated elegance. Dean's room was marked by deep, forest green walls that exuded a serene, calming energy. The solid wood bed frame was dressed in linens of a matching green hue, and a knitted throw lay casually at the foot of the bed. A bedside table held a vintage lamp, its warm light inviting a sense of peace. A single, potted plant added a touch of life to the room, its leaves gently rustling in the night breeze that whispered through a slightly ajar window.

Dean set his bag down, taking in the room with an appreciative nod. "Not too shabby," he remarked to himself, a low whistle of approval escaping him. He glanced around, noting the lack of his usual motel-room amenities but also the unique charm of this place. "Gotta say, this beats the usual digs on the road," he mused aloud, even though only the walls could hear him. With a final glance at the room that felt unexpectedly like a home, Dean allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation before he prepared to call it a night.

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The morning light was a subtle intruder, sneaking through the narrow breach between the curtains, and it was the soft rapping at his door that finally stirred Dean from his slumber. The familiar cadence of a gentle knock, followed by a voice he was quickly growing fond of, coaxed him awake.

"Dean? You decent in there? I've got coffee," Julia's voice was soft but clear through the door, tinged with a laughter that hadn't quite bubbled to the surface.

"Yeah, come on in," Dean called back, his voice gruff with sleep but warm with invitation.

The door creaked open, and Julia peeked around it with caution, a visual check to save them both any embarrassment. Dean took in the sight of her, looking just as effortlessly charming as she had the day before. Her hair was swept up into a bun that defied the laws of gravity, and she was swathed in an oversized Van Halen t-shirt paired with flannel Batman pajama pants tucked into tube socks—one white, one grey—topped off with pink bunny slippers. It was an ensemble that Dean found unexpectedly endearing.

She tiptoed over to where he sat up in bed, the covers sliding to his waist to reveal the lean muscles of his torso. Julia's eyes briefly danced across his skin, the blush on her cheeks deepening, before she averted her gaze to the safety of the coffee mug. "Heard you might be hitting the road soon," she said, her eyes finding his again. "Figured you could use a caffeine kick to start your day."

Dean accepted the mug, the steam curling up to mingle with the stubble on his chin. He took a sip, the rich flavor hitting all the right notes. "Mmm, that's perfect. You're a lifesaver, Julia." He winked, the gesture softening the rugged lines of his face. "This is exactly what I needed.”

A bashful grin spread across Julia's face as Dean's wink sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. With a nervous little push of her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she began to retreat from the room.

"I–uh, I should..." she stammered, her words trailing off as her eyes inadvertently drifted back to Dean's uncovered chest. The close encounter with Dean's rugged appeal was unexpectedly disarming, and in a flustered haste to regain her composure, she moved to leave more quickly. "I've got to get ready for the day, so, see you out there," Julia rushed the words, nearly tripping over them as she made her swift exit, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Left alone in the quiet room, Dean couldn't help but let a self-satisfied smirk creep across his lips. There was something gratifying about this mutual, unspoken attraction, the way they both seemed to fumble a little in each other's presence. He took another sip of his coffee, the warmth of the brew a perfect echo of the heat that had risen in his cheeks from their exchange.

The aroma of sizzling bacon guided Dean down the staircase, the rich, inviting scent a herald of the morning's feast. As he entered the kitchen, he found Rob and Sam already embroiled in a hearty conversation. The absence of Julia was a silent note in the room, leaving Dean with an anticipation he wasn't fully willing to acknowledge.

"Morning," Rob greeted him with a friendly nod, serving up another portion of bacon onto a plate already heaping with eggs. "Hope the bed was comfortable."

Dean nodded, taking in the spread on the kitchen table. "Yeah, slept like a rock, thanks. You guys sure know how to make a guest feel at home," he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in appreciation as he piled his own plate high with breakfast.

"You tuck in, Dean. Julia'll be joining us shortly," Rob assured him, the clatter of utensils against the plates punctuating his words.

Sam chimed in from across the table, his attention momentarily drifting from the conversation he was having with Rob. "Yeah, make yourself at home, Dean. We're not exactly in a rush this morning," he said, his own plate a more measured portion, indicative of his methodical nature.

The usual backdrop of Led Zeppelin was absent that morning, replaced by the low hum of familial chatter. The calm was pleasantly disrupted when Julia made her entrance, her presence as much a jolt to the room as caffeine. She was dressed in a pair of high-waisted denim flares that hugged her frame before flaring out dramatically past the knee, paired with a fitted ringer tee that featured a Styx band logo across the chest. Her hair was kept back with a simple headband, her scholarly glasses framing her bright eyes as she walked in with a bounce in her step.

"Morning," Julia greeted the room with a chipper tone, her voice infusing a burst of energy as she went about compiling her breakfast with a certain cheerfulness. She couldn't resist snagging an extra strip of bacon from the platter, biting into it with a satisfied grin as she took her seat.

"So, you boys thinking of hitting the road today?" Rob inquired, glancing over at the brothers as he took a sip of his coffee.

Sam leaned back in his chair, considering their schedule. "We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us, but we're in no hurry. Gonna enjoy breakfast first," he said, his tone easy and relaxed, indicative of their momentary respite from the road.

Dean, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying the pancakes and bacon before him, but from the moment Julia entered, his gaze intermittently drifted her way. Her casual, unassuming charm was a stark contrast to the intensity they shared earlier, and he couldn't help but be drawn to it, his eyes following her every move until she caught him looking and offered him a warm smile.

The remnants of breakfast lay scattered across the table—a testament to the good food and better company. Dean pushed his chair back, the wooden legs scraping gently against the floor, and gave Sam a firm pat on the back. "Alright, Sammy, time to hit the road," he announced, his voice carrying a slight edge of reluctance.

Rob nodded in understanding as they all moved towards the front door, the echoes of their morning together still hanging in the air. "Sounds like you boys have got places to be," Rob observed, a hint of a fatherly tone to his voice.

Standing in the entryway, Dean extended his hand to Rob, gripping it firmly. "Rob, you've been great. Thanks for the hospitality, and, you know, for not asking too many questions," he said with a half-grin.

Rob returned the handshake with equal firmness. "You fellas ever find yourselves back in this neck of the woods, you stop on by. We'll have ourselves a little catch-up over dinner," he replied, clapping Sam on the shoulder with a warm smile.

Before they could step out, Julia's voice cut in, "Oh shoot, wait up!" In a flurry of motion, she dashed upstairs, leaving Dean and Sam exchanging a puzzled look.

Moments later, Julia bounded back down with a folder in hand, which she eagerly extended to Dean. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, a jolt of connection sparking between them at the touch. Julia's blush was immediate and vivid, her eyes darting away as she stepped back. "It was, uh, really nice meeting you," she said, her voice a mix of earnestness and nerves as she fumbled with her glasses.

Dean, holding the folder now, allowed his eyes to linger on hers a moment longer. "Julia, the pleasure was all mine," he said with that signature Winchester smirk, "And thanks for the intel—looks like we owe you one."

As they walked out onto the porch, Julia leaned against the doorway, her voice carrying down to where Dean stood by the sleek black Impala. "Don't forget, I get a ride in this beast next time!"

Dean turned, his smile as bright as the morning sun. "It's a deal, Juliet. I'll even let you pick the music," he called back, the promise hanging in the air like a vow.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Dean caught the amused yet exasperated expression on Sam's face. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" Sam said, the words light but pointed, a brotherly tease that carried all the history of their shared lives.

Dean just chuckled, sliding the key into the ignition. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, Sammy," he retorted, already looking forward to the road ahead—and the promise of returning.

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Months had slipped by since their last visit to the Blackburns, each day filled with the unrelenting rhythm of the hunt. Now, a new case on the East Coast presented the perfect opportunity to reconnect with their newfound allies. Remembering Julia's number, which he had wisely secured during their previous encounter, Sam turned down the volume of the rock anthem blaring through the Impala's speakers, much to Dean's chagrin, and dialled the number.

"Hey Julia, it's Sam," he spoke into the phone, his voice carrying a blend of professionalism and the warmth of a burgeoning friendship.

Dean's attention, previously focused on the road, sharpened at the mention of Julia's name. The memory of her – the wild auburn curls, the vivid green eyes, her eclectic taste in music, and her infectious passion for knowledge – had a way of occupying his thoughts in the quieter moments between hunts.

From his side of the phone, Sam's smile grew at whatever Julia was saying on the other end. "We're heading your way for a case and thought we'd call ahead before showing up at your doorstep," he said, only to be interrupted by Julia's response.

Chuckling softly, Sam replied, "Thanks, Julia. We appreciate it. See you in a few hours."

Dean, who had been following the conversation with increasing anticipation, couldn't contain his curiosity. "What'd she say?" he asked, his voice a mix of eagerness and an attempt at nonchalance.

Sam turned to Dean, a knowing look in his eyes. "She's invited us for dinner and offered to let us stay the night," he revealed.

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise, a hint of excitement flashing across his features. "Well, that's unexpected. Guess we're having dinner at the Blackburns'," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Sam nodded, turning his gaze back to the road ahead. "Yeah, and it's good timing too. We could use a friendly place to crash, and it'll be nice to catch up with them. Especially after all the help they gave us."

Dean nodded in agreement, his mind already racing ahead to the evening. The prospect of seeing Julia again added an unexpected but not unwelcome dimension to their impromptu visit. As the Impala ate up the miles, the brothers settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts about the case ahead and the reunion to come.

Early afternoon had found Sam reaching out to Julia, the day still ripe with potential. But as the Impala cruised into Boston, the city was cloaked in the hues of a setting sun, casting long shadows and painting the skyline in shades of orange and purple. When they finally pulled up in front of the Blackburn residence, dusk was settling in, the day's light fading fast.

Stepping out of the car, the Winchester brothers approached the house, the familiar steps creaking slightly under their weight. Dean's gaze swept over the red-brick façade, noting how the warm glow of the setting sun played off the building's features. The once vibrant wisterias had transitioned into less leafy, more dormant vines, a testament to the changing seasons.

Reaching the front door, Dean moved ahead to knock, his hand raised. But as his knuckles made contact, he felt an unsettling give in the door. His eyes narrowed, observing the signs of forced entry—the door had been broken in.

Motioning for Sam to close in, Dean's hand instinctively went to the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans, his movements swift and practiced. Sam, understanding the unspoken signal, mirrored his brother's caution, his own hand inching towards his weapon.

Together, they slipped into their well-rehearsed hunting stances, a silent dance of readiness honed by years of facing the unknown. With a gentle nudge, the door swung open, its creak breaking the eerie silence that enveloped the house.

Inside, the quiet was almost tangible, a heavy stillness that set every one of their trained senses on edge. Dean took a cautious step forward, his eyes scanning the dimly lit interior for any sign of movement, any hint of what might have transpired within these walls. Sam followed close behind, his gaze darting to the shadows that lurked in the corners of the entrance hall.

The familiar warmth and charm of the Blackburn residence now felt like a distant memory, replaced by a palpable sense of danger and the unknown. They moved forward, each step a blend of caution and readiness, prepared for whatever they might find.

Stealthily, the Winchester brothers made their way into the dimly lit interior of the Blackburn residence. The entry hallway, to their relief, seemed undisturbed, a calm front to the storm they feared lay within. They moved forward with practiced silence, every sense attuned to their surroundings.

Suddenly, a loud crash from the second floor shattered the stillness, jolting them into high alert. Exchanging a glance, they wordlessly agreed to investigate. With cautious steps, they ascended the stairs, each creak underfoot sounding thunderous in the eerie silence.

Reaching the second floor landing, they were greeted by the last remnants of dusk light streaming through the bay window. The scene that unfolded before them was one of chaos. The once meticulously organized room was now a landscape of destruction. Shelves had been toppled, their contents strewn across the floor in a wild disarray. Drawers and cupboards had been violently emptied, their innards scattered without care.

Amid the wreckage, they heard the sound of frustrated rustling. Dean, gun in hand but aimed safely at the ground, cautiously stepped further into the room. Peering around a corner, his gaze landed on a towering figure standing by the large window overlooking the terrace. The figure's build and presence were unmistakably those of Rob Blackburn.

"Rob?" Dean called out tentatively, his voice laced with a mix of concern and caution.

At the sound of his name, the dark form of Rob whirled around to face Dean. The warm, inviting eyes they had known were now an abyssal black, cold and unyielding. It was a jarring sight—their ally, transformed into something sinister.

As Dean stood there, staring at the unnaturally black eyes of the man they had come to know as an ally, a chilling thought cut through the tension: Where is Julia? Her safety suddenly became the most pressing concern in his mind, overshadowing even the immediate threat of the demon before them.

"Where's Julia?" Dean demanded, his voice firm, his weapon still pointed safely at the ground but his stance ready for any sudden moves. The question wasn't just a tactical one; it was personal, fueled by a concern that had grown deeper than he'd initially realized.

The demon inhabiting Rob's body let out a low, menacing chuckle, a sound that was all the more unsettling coming from Rob's familiar frame. "Worried about the girl, are we?" it taunted, its voice a twisted echo of Rob's.

Dean's jaw clenched, a mix of anger and worry flashing in his eyes. He exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Sam. They both knew that finding Julia was now their top priority, but they also couldn't ignore the demon standing before them.

The situation had escalated beyond a simple hunt. It was personal, and the stakes were higher than ever. The brothers needed to navigate this carefully – one wrong move could put Julia in even more danger.

To be continued . . .

Chapter Three

#supernatural #supernatural season 1 #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester #spn #dean fanfic #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #dean and sam

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figthoughts · 11 days ago

Text

⟢ — thinking about DEAN needing to pull the impala over on the side of the road because you just can’t keep your hands to yourself .ᐟ

warnings: smut, semi–public car sex, oral (m. receiving), praise, est. relationship (softdom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

𓂃ㅤ . ⟡ ㅤׄㅤ

“i said quit it,” dean muttered and switched off the impala’s engine, the rumbling sound dying out into a smooth silence. he turned to you, and a challenging grin spread across his face, “you just can’t control yourself, can you?”

a hearty laugh bubbled up your throat as he grabbed your wrist, his warm hand pulling it away from the now prominent bulge in his jeans, which strained against the dark denim. “come on, you just look so good today, dean. i can’t help it,” you said through your chuckles.

dean scoffed at your words, pulling you closer. “oh, yeah? you just can't help it? you’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

dean pinned your wrist to your chest, keeping your wandering hand hostage as he dove in and kissed you. you gasped, and dean seized the opportunity, slipping his tongue between your parted lips to tangle with yours, teasing and desperate as he dominated your mouth. his movements were demanding, and you felt the need in his kiss. the frustration.

he moaned wantonly, breaking the kiss and pulling back to look at you. his green irises had shrunk from his blown-out pupils, dilating with desire. he murmured quietly as his eyes searched yours, “in the backseat. now, baby.”

his voice was low, but biting with an eagerness that made your thighs clench. it took the pair of you less than ten seconds to reach the backseat, fervently finding each other’s lips again with ease. your teeth clashed and your tongues fought, the kiss eager and full of need, but not that either of you cared. he managed to pull you on top of him, leaving his hands on your hips, guiding you to grind down onto him. it was desperate and messy, from the need that coursed through both of your bodies, brought on by your incessant teasing and playing.

dean groaned at the feeling of you pressing against the line of his hardened cock, the rough denim rubbing against his angry red tip. fuck, you’d been such a tease. dean was right; you just couldn’t control yourself—your hands travelling up his thigh while he drove, moving in on his dick and palming it through his jeans, all while your eyes not once leaving the road the entire time you played with him, and that wicked smirk plastered on your face. you were evil.

“take this off,” he muttered against your lips, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. you slipped it off, no questions asked, as dean took his flannel and shirt off too, discarding the fabric on the floor of the car. he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to your breasts through your bra as he undid your jeans and pulled them down. you lifted yourself up, helping him pull away the denim.

“yeah, that’s it,” dean grinned and slid his fingers over your clothed pussy as you settled back down into his lap, feeling the warmth of his skin press against you. “just what i thought. no wonder you were touching me like that. wet and desperate just for me, huh?” dean huffed through a smirk, pressing your soaked underwear against your folds.

“okay, yeah... maybe. so what?” you laughed along with him, grinding your cunt onto his fingers more. “can’t you just help me with it?”

dean's lips curled into a devious grin, one that made the heat burn hotter in your stomach, and you knew you were in for it. “course, baby. though i'm gonna have some fun with you first... s'only fair,” he grinned as you let out a scoff, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “payback’s a bitch, sweetheart," he crooned mockingly, his fingers not letting up on the teasing touches between your thighs.

you groaned at his words and overall demeanour, scrunching your face in frustration whilst he kept toying with you. “no, come on. i’m sorry, just—”

“nope. you’re gonna help me first. consider it… reparations for working me up so much when all you had to do was just ask for my help,” he murmured, his tone smooth but full of smug satisfaction from seeing you so worked up now.

“okay, okay…” you conceded and let your hands undo the button and fly of his jeans. you shimmied them down, along with his boxers too, as much as you could, before pulling out his painfully hard cock. you wiped some pre from his tip, giving his length a full pump. a hiss escaped dean’s lips.

“geez,” you chuckled, “this was all me?”

he huffed with a defeated smile and let his head fall back into the leather seat, soft little grunts leaving his lips as you moved your hand up and down his member.

“baby, you don’t know what you do to me,” he managed to get out through rough breaths. his hips began to buck up into your touch ever so slightly, but his rubbing through your panties didn’t falter; he was teasing you, like you'd done to him, not giving you any proper stimulation that your body was so desperately aching for.

“i need more, dean. please, don’t tease me anymore,” you begged softly, continuing to pump his pretty cock, feeling it throb in your hand.

“mmm,” he pretended to consider your request, “no, i don’t know if you’ve paid your dues yet, my little tease. you knew what you were doing when i was driving.” he rubbed his thick fingers through your damp folds, purposefully pressing the fabric of your underwear against you. the friction felt good, but torturous at the same time; the stimulation just wasn’t enough. you let out a huff. you wanted more. needed more.

“fine.”

you took your hand away from his dick, shuffling back a little on the leather seats. you pushed dean back against the door and settled in front of him. a smirk grew on his face as you bowed down, wrapping your mouth around his cock, though the smirk quickly dropped and morphed into a contorted expression of pleasure as you began swirling your tongue on his sensitive tip, sending hot sparks shooting through his nerves.

“fuuuck… that’s it,” he groaned, trying to get his length deeper into your mouth with small thrusts.

you obliged and took him deeper, trying not to gag on his swollen tip as he thrusted further into your mouth, his head brushing against the back of your throat.

dean’s hands found their way into your hair, scrunching a handful and guiding you to bob on his cock. you let him move you up and down his length, feeling him twitch in your mouth. you wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick, squeezing softly, earning a groan from dean.

you tasted his salty precum, letting your tongue run along his slit. dean let out a deep guttural groan, and his head fell back again, his grip in your hair tightening. “fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. just like that. don’t stop,” he muttered out, his dick still twitching against your tongue. he let obscene words fly from his mouth as his brain began to lose touch with everything but you and the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him.

as he tensed against your tongue, you knew it was time to pull him out before he shot his seed down your throat. you pulled him out, earning a groan of protest from dean.

“please, can you just fuck me now?” you looked up at him with your best wide and pleading eyes.

“y-yeah. take those fuckin’ panties off,” he huffed, panting slightly as you sat up, his eyes locked on yours as you manoeuvred yourself to pull your underwear down.

a satisfied grin bloomed on dean’s face the second you flung your panties off. his hand immediately unhooked your bra and pulled it off you, discarding it with the rest of your clothes on the floor, before pushing you down against the seat. he climbed above you, taking in your breasts with a cheeky smile.

“hello, my favourite ladies,” he hummed and kissed your tits before meeting your eyes again, “well after you, of course, my favourite little tease.” he dropped a kiss on your cheek, finding your exposed heat with his fingers again, stroking at your clit.

you chuckled at his dorky comment and looked up at him, feeling his fingers rub at your core. “mmm, no, dean. i need you inside me…. please? i wanna feel you.”

dean nodded, letting his eyes flicker between yours. “yeah, okay. since you asked so nicely.”

he quickly pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down and grabbed his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. he swiped his tip along your cunt, collecting your arousal on the head of his dick, before slowly pushing into you, earning a pleased hum from you as he stretched you out.

“there we go, baby. is this what you wanted?” dean grinned, bottoming out inside you, feeling your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size.

“yes… fuck, yes….” you responded breathily, your voice a little winded from the feeling of him finally impaling you.

he took a moment to just look at you, letting his gaze fall over your pretty parted lips, your now dishevelled hair, and your heavy-lidded eyes that met his with silent pleas to move, but also unspoken words full of love and trust. dean finally pulled his hips back before thrusting back into you. he let out a deep groan and continued to watch your flushed face react to the feel of him moving in and out of your cunt.

your jaw dropped as he began to pick up a firm pace. his dick pistoned into your puffy cunt, hitting all the right gooey spots that made you tighten around him. the car rocked with every thrust and filled with loud breathless moans from the both of you.

dean’s hand found your clit again, his thumb rubbing it expertly. he grinned down at you, taking in your face of pure bliss with his own lazy expression.

“mmm, look at you. taking my cock so well, baby. you’re so tight,” he groaned out, thrusting into you with a measured pace, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass.

his green eyes sparkled as he watched your tits bounce around from his quick thrusts; you could see him practically salivating at the sight. his free hand grabbed at your tits, squeezing and palming them with a stupid grin on his face.

“fuck, dean… you feel so good,” you gasped out as you rocked against the leather seats, your body now coated with a film of sweat. he picked up his pace even more, drilling you into the backseat. you couldn’t help the loud moans from flying out of your mouth or the way your hands had found their way to his back, clawing at it, trying to pull him closer to you.

“ohhhh, fuck… squeezing me like crazy, sweetheart,” he said, winded from the feel of his cock being smothered by the warmth of your tight walls. his hand sped up on your clit, desperate to get you off.

sparks flew throughout your body from his touch, and you cried out, “mmm, god… so close, dean! fuck!”

you felt the band snap in your stomach, and you came, gushing around him, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock from your sticky fluids. he thrusted into you even harder, watching you ride the wave of your orgasm as he chased his own.

“that’s it… that’s it, baby,” dean cooed softly with a smirk on his face. “that’s what you wanted, huh? to cum on my cock like a good girl? such a pretty girl like this. my pretty girl.”

your tight walls kept fluttering around him as you rode your high, the sensation driving him closer to painting your insides white. his thrusts stayed firm and deliberate, nudging against your spongey walls with expertise, building up that tight feeling in your stomach again without even really trying.

“oh, god... more, dean. please, i—” you sputtered out.

“more, baby?” he grunted with a grin, “you're a horny little thing today, huh?”

“need you to cum in me, dean…” you whined, looking up at him. his smirk grew as he leaned down and pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and throat.

“i’m gonna fucking stuff you, baby, don’t worry,” he muttered against your skin, tasting the saltiness of your sweat on his tongue.

the car rocked back and forth from his harsh strokes. you were sure any passerby would immediately know what was happening inside, but you couldn’t find half the mind to care, not when you were so close to hitting your peak again.

“mmm, god…. sweetheart, you’re so— so beautiful,” dean huffed, still nipping and kissing at your neck.

you whined, unable to find the words to reply to his sweet praise. the car filled with the dirty smell of sex and the sound of him squelching in and out of your cunt.

“m’so close, sweetheart. you almost there?” he groaned, his warm breath tickling your neck.

the feeling of his thick member thrusting into you with quick and calculated movements, paired with his heavy hand on your clit, forced your back to arch up into him, your body begging for him to go deeper—to bury himself completely in your greedy cunt. your desperate hands kept clawing at his muscled back, leaving pink lines of broken skin, urging him to give you more.

dean moaned gutturally, “baby— baby, please. can’t hold on much longer.” his dick twitched inside you, and he kept plunging his swollen tip in as far as he possibly could, feeling your walls clamp around him, sending jolts of pleasure flying throughout his body.

“close. i’m close,” you sputtered out, your heat clenching as he rapidly pumped into you, making your core tighten with a fire that threatened to send you over the edge.

dean whimpered and gave you a handful of powerful thrusts, and his hand rubbed your clit vigorously, desperate to make you finish before he did.

“atta, girl. that’s it. i’m right here, sweetheart. i’m there with you. just let go f’me…. please, baby,” he moaned out, his brain wrecked; half focused on not spilling into you just yet, and the other half focused on pushing you into cumming on his dick again.

his practiced ministrations and soft words of encouragement worked you over quickly, bringing on your harrowing release. loud mewls and moans were ripped straight from your throat as your pussy gushed again, only making the wet filthy noises louder. you wailed dean’s name, unable to control your mouth or body as he fucked you through your orgasm.

dean let out a shuddered moan as you cried out his name and hit your peak, squeezing around him like a vice. his eyes clamped shut, and he gritted his teeth, shooting his load into your cunt. “oh, shit, baby— shit!” he groaned, opening his hazy eyes and looking down at your sweet face.

you felt his warm ropes coat your walls, and you hummed, returning his gaze. his dilated eyes flickered between yours as his movements came to a still inside you, his cock beginning to soften. “fuck… fuck, baby. you’re so—”

you smiled as dean’s post-sex spiel began, the action pushing up your flushed cheeks, making the corners of your eyes crinkle.

“jesus, so good…. so good,” he muttered through pants. “so beautiful. i’m so lucky— jesus, i’m so lucky.”

a quiet but mirthful laugh escaped from your lungs. “i love when you get like this,” you murmured earnestly, your features pulled into an amused expression as dean continued to babble out soft praises and compliments.

“sorry, i just—” he trailed off with a sheepish grin, collapsing on top of you. he buried his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your sweaty skin.

“no, s’alright. i love it, really.”

“yeah? good… cause i can’t help but act a damn fool around you, babe. you make me crazy, i swear.”

a grin grew on dean’s face as he heard your scoff of amusement at his words. his curved lips against your skin sent butterflies down to your stomach, fluttering around from his praise.

“m’serious. i’m crazy for you— crazy for that pussy. she’s mine… all mine,” he murmured into your skin.

another amused laugh escaped you. “yeah, she is. all yours, baby,” you playfully conceded.

“mmm,” he hummed in agreement, then lifted his head to look down at you. your eyes met, and you could see glints of desire still dancing around in them. “no more teasing me now, yeah? we’re even?”

it was your turn to grin; the corners of your lips curled, and you nodded. “yeah, no more teasing, baby… for now.”

fig yaps: need my shit rocked in the back of his car tbh anyway you’re welcome for that gif btw !!!!!!!! i actually have it tattooed on my eyelids so i can watch it every time i close my eyes teehehe anyways this lived in my drafts for months and i still don't love it but yolo dropping this and probably dipping for a few days bc my brain is playing evil tbh

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ofc !! <3

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @gibson-g1rl @vmiina @h8aaz + the rest in the comments sorry!

↑ comment to be added / removed (zero judgement) !

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 months ago

Text

Cute and Fluffy

Summary: The reader drops off a new patient for Dr. Winchester…

Pairing: vet!Dean x reader

Word Count: 700

Warnings: none

A/N: Enjoy!

_______________

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” said Dean, waving you back and into one of the examination rooms. “What have you brought me today, heroine to all things cute and fluffy?”

“This is Champ,” you said setting the carry on down on the table. “At least that’s what we’re calling him down there.”

You opened up the door and put a treat down right outside. A pink little tongue tentatively stuck out and licked it before curling it into it’s mouth. You put a few more down to try and get the little guy to come out on his own, slowly but surely getting the malnourished pup onto the table.

“Hi Champ,” said Dean, bending down to give the scared dog a smile. Dean didn’t reach out to pet him, knowing how some of the rescue animals were when they were new. “He a biter?”

“No, sweetest little thing,” you said, holding a treat in your hand, Champ eating out of it. “Definitely underweight. He was covered in mats and scabs so we had to shave him down.”

Dean looked over the poor guy, taking a treat from you and letting him eat out of his hand as well before he placed a gentle touch on him, patting him softly.

“Probably has an infection. We’ll run some blood work and see about fixing this guy up,” said Dean. “What do you say? Want to get better and find a nice family Champ?”

The dog didn’t do anything really but did lick Dean’s finger. Dean chuckled and picked him up, taking him into the back.

Two Weeks Later

It was about six on Friday night as you checked on the guys and gals one last time before handing off to the night manager. There weren’t that many in your care at the moment which was always a good thing. You always wanted your animals to find good homes and not be stuck in this place for too long.

“Lovely, Y/N, I brought you somebody,” you heard Dean call from the front desk. You smiled as you walked out there, watching him undo the carry cage and pull out a happy and healthy looking puppy.

“Aw Champ! You look so much better buddy!” you said, the dog wagging his tail and acting like he should again. Dean handed him over to you and you looked him over, knowing Dean was a miracle worker with how he got these guys feeling good again.

“Not as good looking as you,” said Dean. You laughed and waved him back with you as you found a nice spot for Champ for the night. Dean went and found some dinner for him and gave you the run down on his history. He’d barely finished eating before he was plopping down on his bed, snoring happily. “He’s so getting adopted tomorrow.”

“Thanks for volunteering to help out in the morning. I really appreciate it,” you said. Dean smiled and took hold of your hand.

“It’s no problem. I like spending time with you. Speaking of which, I kind of made reservations tonight and was wondering if you’d like to go with me?” he asked.

“Your date cancel on you?” you asked.

“Just asked her,” he said with a wink. “Still waiting to see if I’m going to have to go solo.”

“What time is the reservation?” you asked, giving all the creatures one last look over as you heard the night manager come in.

“Eight. Down at Erickson’s,” said Dean.

“Fancy,” you said, walking out with Dean right on your tail.

“So...yes?” he asked, a sliver of doubt underneath his hope.

“See you in two hours Dean. I bet you look real good in a suit,” you said, walking over to your car.

“Not as good as you’ll look.”

___________

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loaksx · 1 year ago

Text

DEAN WINCHESTER . . .

ılı.lıl now playing …

RUNNIN’ WITH THE DEVIL

Van Halen

↺͏͏° < ll >> ⋮≡

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

EXTRAS . . . smut ✦ , fluff ✩, angst ✧

SERIES

ONESHOTS & IMAGINES

BLURBS

DEAN'S MOODBOARDS

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imagineteamfreewill · 2 years ago

Text

An Imagined Life

Title: An Imagined Life

Pairing: Author!Dean x Interior Decorator!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Y/N and Dean have been best friends since childhood, and though they’re both adults with busy lives, they still manage to keep up their weekly traditions.

A/N: Wow! It's been SO long since I posted on here. Hey everyone! This kinda came out of nowhere, but nonetheless, it was fun to write. Thank you to everyone who supports me here, on Patreon, and on ao3. Thank you for reading, and enjoy! Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

There’s no response when you knock on Dean’s front door, and you smile to yourself as you crouch down to pull the spare key out from behind the loose siding at the base of the house. He’s never quite gotten around to finding a new place to put it, even after his dad found the hiding spot and trashed the place while the two of you were out of town, but it really doesn’t matter anyway. Very few people actually know who Dean is. You’re fairly certain most of his neighbors think that he’s a hermit, rather than a bestselling author.

Once you’ve wrangled the door open, you set the key on his entryway table and shift the plate of hot pancakes so you can carry it with both hands.

“Dean!” you call, peering up the stairs. There are no lights on in the hallway. His living room’s a mess, and you have to step over several piles of books as you cross through to get to the kitchen. “Dean, I brought pancakes!”

He still doesn’t answer and you sigh, shedding your jacket and tossing it on the island before heading back through the living room and up the stairs to his room. He’s probably still in bed. There’s no doubt that he’d been up late writing again, considering the various pages spread across the couch cushions. His laptop sits nearby, too.

The couch is his second favorite place to write—with the back porch being his first—despite the fact that in the beginning, he’d been adamant against your choice in seating. The two of you had argued about it for over an hour. He hadn’t liked the legs. You’d insisted that he’d needed it, and in the end, he’d relented. After all, he’d hired you to decorate his new house, and he trusted you to do a good job. Even though you’d played pranks on him ever since you were little, you wouldn’t dream of screwing up a client’s house, even if it was Dean.

You and Dean have been best friends since kindergarten. During your very first week of school, he’d stood up for you when another kid had tried to take your beloved coloring book during a rainy day recess. The two of you have been like velcro ever since. You’d gone to all the same schools, even for college, and you’d both moved across the country to pursue your dreams after graduation. He’d moved into a modest fixer upper on the outskirts of the city and you’d moved into an apartment nearby the studio where you’d started your career, but the commute hasn’t stopped either of you from continuing your tradition of Sunday morning breakfasts, or in this case, Sunday afternoon breakfasts.

Knocking on his bedroom door, you carefully push it open and poke your head into the room. Sure enough, Dean is sprawled out across his bed, the blankets covering one bare leg and his upper half. The only thing visible at the top of the comforter is a tuft of brown hair. Smiling to yourself, you open the door the rest of the way and cross the room to open the curtains. You slide the plate of pancakes onto the only clear spot on his dresser as you pass.

“Rise and shine!” you cheer, and Dean answers you with a singular, sleepy grunt. Chuckling, you leap onto his bed, making him bounce on the mattress. He groans again and pulls the covers closer around him from the inside.

“Come on, Dean! I brought pancakes this week!”

Silence answers you, and just as you’re opening your mouth to try and coerce him for the third time, Dean grumbles,

“Remind me to hide the spare key.”

You grin and yank his pillow out from under his head, then lean down so you can speak directly into his ear. “You and I both know you’ll never do that.”

He groans again, and you briefly wonder how he ever managed to start a career when his vocabulary is so limited in the morning. When you tell him as much, Dean reaches his hands out from under the blankets, pulls his pillow from your grasp, and flips the blankets off his head before shoving the pillow back under him where it belongs. He turns onto his back and rests his head back on the pillow as he squints up at the ceiling, his eyes adjusting to the midday sun streaming in through the tall bedroom windows.

“Did you really have to open the curtains?” he asks as he rubs his eyes with the back of one hand. His voice is thick from sleep, making it gravelly and just a little deeper than normal. It makes you smile. You love Dean in the morning, even if he is a grump.

“Probably not,” you reply. Flopping down beside him, you stare up at the ceiling fan in silence, letting him wake up the rest of the way on his own. You’ve done your job spectacularly.

Finally, Dean sighs heavily and sits up, letting the blankets slide halfway onto the floor as he shifts his legs over the side of the bed. You turn onto your side and prop your head up with one elbow, watching him. He’d gone to bed in just his black boxers again, leaving his back exposed to you. The sunlight turns his skin golden.

He’s been out in the sun, you think. His freckles stand out more than usual, and as he stretches, your mind wanders. The two of you have never dated, which is strange. You enjoy spending time with him, and it’s not like you think he was ugly. In reality, Dean is one of the most attractive people you know. He could convince you to do anything if he smiled while he asked. If he asked you to date him, you’d say yes. Hell, if he asked you to marry him, you’d say yes.

“You just gonna stare at me or are we gonna eat?” Dean asks, and you grin, pushing away your thoughts as you quickly try to make up for your long silence.

“Eating sounds good, but I can’t say I’m opposed to staring at your back for the rest of the day. It’s a nice back,” you tease.

“Shut up.” Dean turns and grabs his pillow, tossing it at your head.

You laugh and move your hand from where it’s supporting your head, effectively blocking the hit. Dean smiles down at you, despite his initial grumpiness after being jarred awake, and you grin even wider when his expression softens.

"You have a good week?" he asks, and you nod.

"You? Looks like you got a lot of writing done."

Dean nods slightly and stands, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. You force yourself to look away.

Why am I suddenly thinking about dating Dean?

Silently, you scold yourself and sit up on the other side of the mattress. Your back is to him, which gives you a moment to compose yourself. It’s too early for crazy thoughts about going out with your best friend. That’s more of a 3:00 AM thought.

You don’t want to mess with a good thing, you remind yourself. It’s the reason you avidly avoid the topic of dating when anyone brings it up, especially at holidays. For the longest time, your mom and Mary Winchester have been conspiring to get the two of you together. Back when you were younger, you fielded their questions with ease by telling them that you only thought of Dean as a friend and that you were more focused on your career, but you can practically picture their expressions if they ever heard your private thoughts about Dean’s back. These thoughts will have to be something you take to your grave.

You clear your throat and get up, grabbing the plate and rounding the end of the bed. “Ready?” you ask.

Dean grabs a t-shirt from the laundry basket on top of his dresser, then pulls it over his head. He glances at himself in the mirror before running a hand through his hair and heading out into the hallway. You follow him down the stairs and to the kitchen, plate in hand.

He starts pulling down plates, cups, and silverware for the two of you while you stick the plate in the microwave.

“There’s syrup in the fridge,” he tells you, pointing just behind you. “Can you get the creamer, too?”

You hum in acknowledgement and turn around to do just that, and he starts the coffee maker. Dean knows exactly how you like your coffee. The thought that he does makes you smile as you hunt through the contents of his fridge.

“So what’s the plan for today?” he asks.

Glancing over your shoulder, you grab the syrup from the door before closing it and taking a few steps to the island so you can dump the bottle of creamer there, too. You settle on one of the bar stools and watch him from the side as he makes your coffee. Last year, you’d convinced him to buy a fancier coffee maker, and though he’d been reluctant to change and get rid of the faithful machine that had helped him through his first bestseller, Dean eventually agreed that the newer model was better. Plus, it meant that he could make you some truly great breakfast drinks, not just plain coffee with creamer like he normally has.

“Besides pancakes? I have to run to IKEA and look at some decor options for a client. Do you want to come with?”

His nose crinkles enough that you can see it from your seat. “Shopping?”

You lean forward over the island, propping your chin on your hand as you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. “Please, Dean?” you whine. “Please spend time with your oldest, prettiest, and most talented friend so I don’t perish of loneliness before I can settle down like a good, upstanding citizen. I need someone with me to ward off all the suitors that might harass me while I do my weekly throw pillow shopping.”

Dean snorts. “You’re insane.”

“Am I?” You drop your hand down and push yourself up on the counter, just enough that your reach is long enough to reach the cup of coffee he’s brought over for you. You pull it closer and lift it to your nose so you can breathe in the rich aroma, then take a sip. As predicted, it’s perfect. With a sigh, you plop back onto the stool.

“Yes, you are,” he laughs.

The microwave beeps and Dean abandons his mug to get the pancakes, and you busy yourself by arranging your plate and silverware in front of you. You don’t have to ask Dean to heap your portion onto your plate. He does it automatically, piling pancakes in front of you until you give him a satisfied nod. As he plates his own food, you start dishing up your toppings.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out of the house a little today,” Dean says after the two of you have had a chance to tuck into your food.

You look up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise and a loaded fork held halfway to your mouth. “Really? You actually want to go shopping with me?”

He shrugs and takes another bite.

“Okay, then I’m going to finish these pancakes so we can get going before you change your mind,” you tell him, and you start to shovel your food into your mouth more earnestly. He smiles a little before doing the same.

After you and Dean clean up from your late breakfast, you pile into the Impala. He has to stop for gas, so you spend that time searching through your inspiration photos and the screenshots of items you’d looked at on the website. It’s nice to not have to drive, and it gives you a better chance to focus your thoughts on what the most important items will be. As much as he loathes shopping, Dean likes to wander, which means you can’t get distracted from what you really need for the houses, rather than what you’ve walked past four times.

“All good?” you ask, glancing up from your phone when he climbs back into the driver’s seat. Dean hums in agreement and turns the key in the ignition again, then cranks the music as he pulls out of the gas station. You laugh a little when he punches the accelerator once you’re on an open stretch of highway, and you lock your phone, leaning back in your seat.

It’s a nice enough day that you can have the windows down. The wind in your face reminds you of the long road trips you’d taken together in college, and the drive you’d made to move from college to your current home. Those are some of your happiest adult memories with Dean. Some of the moments you replay over and over again in your head each night are from those trips.

“So what exactly are we getting here?” Dean asks as he turns into the massive store lot. “Throw pillows? Vases with fake grass? Giant, framed, sepia-toned pictures of cows?”

You roll your eyes at the design cliches he always teases you about. “A couch and a coffee table,” you shoot back. “Although, you seem to know a lot about those cow pictures. Have you been researching one for your own house?”

He sends you a scathing look, but it’s quickly replaced by a small smile when you laugh at his reaction.

Climbing out of the car, you pull out your phone again. “I haven’t picked out a coffee table, but the couch…” You scroll through the pictures until you find the one you want, then hold it out for him to see. “Here, this is what I’m looking for. I just hope they have it here—they don’t ship this one and I don’t want to drive four hours to the next IKEA.”

Dean glances over at the Impala, and his smile is gone. “That’s not going to fit, Y/N. If I’d known you were getting furniture—”

“I’m just reserving it.” You shake your head. “I’ll have one of the interns pick it up tomorrow morning.”

He nods back and his shoulders relax slightly as you head into the store. Thankfully, it’s less crowded than you’d anticipated, which lets you keep a lazy pace as you walk. You’re not quite wandering, but you’re not worried about people trying to get past whenever you and Dean stop to look at one of the room displays.

“This one’s nice,” Dean says. He nods at a metal coffee table in one of the fake living rooms.

You crinkle your nose, feeling a little bad that you can’t agree. “It’s okay. Not quite what I’m looking for, though. It’s not really the vibe of the family.”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you as you hum and pick a pillow to inspect the design closer. “What’s the vibe?”

You set the pillow back in the giant metal basket and think about it for a second. “They’re more natural, like a… spa commercial. Lots of light natural woods, white linens, birdsong in the background, that kinda thing.” You gesture vaguely with one hand.

“Ah, so the daughter’s name is Serenity and the mother does weekly yoga with the other women from the neighborhood,” Dean replies.

“Exactly.”

“Dad’s probably a workaholic, and he goes along with whatever the mom wants because he knows it’ll keep her off his back. He doesn’t mind all the organic stuff, but he’s not above getting McDonald’s for lunch. He pays with cash, though, because his wife keeps careful track of their money,” Dean continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re really fleshing this one out, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a little satisfied smile, then pushes the cart forward to the next display room.

“Okay, so what about this one?” you ask. You wave your hand toward the half-dining room, half-living room display that’s been set up. It’s clearly meant to mimic a small apartment, because almost everything doubles as storage. The decor reminds you of your own apartment when you’d first moved out of college. You’d been broke after the cross-country move, and most of your things had been leftover from your dorm. You didn’t get “real” furniture until almost two years later. Dean had offered to help pay for the basics, but you’d turned him down. He’d already had his hands full with fixer-upper he’d bought with the advance from his first book.

Dean considers the faux apartment, letting his eyes sweep over each item with care before he finally answers, “They just moved cross-country. He’s planning on proposing to her, but he doesn’t have a ring yet because they spent all their money on the new apartment. It’s barely big enough for them, let alone the stuff they have from college and from their parents’ basements, but she loves it anyway. She likes to decorate with things she finds at thrift stores and the flea market, and he’s secretly been saving every penny he can to buy her the ring he thinks she deserves. If everything goes his way, he’s hoping to ask her next summer, and he’s going to string up the living room with lights because she always mentions how much she misses the fields of fireflies from where they grew up together.”

You smile to yourself, imagining the couple as Dean weaves his story around you. The aisles in this area of the store are empty, and his voice draws you into the picture he’s creating on a whim. It’s warm and homey, and it reminds you a little of your own life, just enough that you can imagine it clearly.

“I like that,” you finally say, after several moments have gone by. “What about that one?” You point a little farther down the aisle.

“The kitchen?” Dean asks. You nod in response. “Well, our couple’s gotten older, but he still hasn’t proposed. They still live together, and they’ve got a better place now that they both have better jobs, but every time he sees a ring or thinks it’s the right time to pop the question, he starts second-guessing himself. So, since they have a backyard now, he gets her a dog, instead.”

“What kind of dog?”

He looks over at you. “What kind of dog do you want it to be?”

You nudge him with your elbow, smiling. “Come on, Dean. You know me. I’m always gonna answer that they need a golden retriever. Every cheesy romance novel and movie has a golden retriever.”

He laughs a little and looks back at the empty kitchen. “A golden retriever it is, then. He’s a rescue, so he’s already three, but she spends every extra minute she has training him. She’s worked hard to make their house a home, you know, so she has to make sure to keep his muddy paws off the couch.”

“Of course,” you agree.

Dean pushes the cart forward again, and the two of you walk a little further, passing by countless closets, more living rooms, a plant display, and another kitchen. Finally, you reach a children’s bedroom, and you pause just for a moment. It’s long enough that Dean notices, however, so he stops and looks over at you.

“Did you find something you like?” he asks. “I didn’t see that couch you wanted earlier when we passed through the sofa section.”

Something about the first story Dean had come up with today stuck with you, and as you peer at the display, you can’t help but picture yourself crouching down beside the ladybug-themed bed. You imagine yourself brushing hair back off a child’s forehead, and you chuckle at the idea of a golden retriever who would hop up by the kid’s feet though it’s too big for the bed.

“What about this?” you ask, quietly, almost so quiet that the music covers it up.

Dean’s silence for a second. “We have a kid now, and he’s everything we’ve ever dreamed.”

You don’t fail to notice that Dean’s changed his story—it’s no longer “them” and “the couple”. It’s we. He keeps his eyes focused on the bed as he talks, but you look over at him. His eyes are a little glossy, and his expression is far away as he continues,

“We still live in the same house, and I’ve got a ring stashed away in a box of rough edits. You haven’t found it yet, but every time I go out, I’m worried that you’ll try to tidy up my office and find it.”

You swallow thickly and stare at him, wide-eyed. Careful not to disturb him too much, you move your hand a little. Your fingers bump against his, and Dean lets you maneuver his hand so it’s wrapped around yours, but he still doesn’t look away from the display bedroom. People are walking past you. Their voices and the music playing overhead feel far away, like they’re in a totally different universe. You’re so focused on Dean that you can’t see, feel, or hear anything outside of your little bubble.

“You’ve totally taken over everything,” Dean continues, chuckling. His lips turn up in a smile. He speaks without hesitation, and with enough passion in every word that you know he means everything he says. This isn’t just pretending anymore.

“The house is amazing, and you’ve gotten into gardening. Everything you touch seems to thrive, including me. I’ve got two more books on the bestsellers list, and it’s enough money that I don’t have to worry about how we’re going to make it. I know that we’ll be okay, no matter what happens. Your business is doing great, too. You stepped back since Robert was born, but you’ve got a partner and enough employees and interns that you can relax.

“You’re up here, right now,” he says. He lifts your joined hands to point towards the bed. “Tucking Robert in.”

“I am?” you prompt.

He nods. “When you’re back downstairs, I’m going to propose.”

“How are you going to ask me?” you murmur, almost afraid to ask.

Dean looks away from the display. His eyes meet yours, and you inhale sharply when he reaches behind himself to push the cart further away. He sinks to one knee and takes your other hand as you gape down at him.

“Dean…”

“I have loved you since the moment I saw you, Y/N,” he says.

You can sense people watching you, and to your left you can see someone holding up their phone to take a picture or to record you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. Tears are welling up, making your vision blurry, and you blink them away. They roll down your cheeks. In any other circumstance, you’d be embarrassed to cry in public, but it’s Dean. He chases all your fears away, and his hands in yours pull you into a moment you never thought you’d see.

“I have thought about proposing to you since we moved here,” Dean continues. “I think about it every day. Every morning, I wake up, Y/N, and I wonder why I haven’t asked you yet. Sometimes it feels like if I go another minute without being engaged to you, I’ll die. I don’t even have a ring; I haven’t been able to find the perfect one, but I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I want to reach our goals and make new dreams together. I know this is sudden, and it’s a lot, and you can say no—I know that you weren’t expecting this—but I can’t let another day go by without asking.”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s right— you weren’t expecting this. You and Dean aren’t even dating, but the idea of spending your life with him doesn’t feel wrong or far-fetched. It feels perfect. You may be blindsided, but you’re not afraid of admitting when something is right.

Dean rubs his thumb over the side of your hand, and it draws you back down to him. “So what do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?”

After a second, you find yourself nodding. You throw yourself down into Dean’s arms. “Yes,” you say into his ear. You sniffle and press your face into his shoulder, and though your voice is muffled by his shirt, you know he’ll understand. “Yes, Dean. I love you so much.”

There’s scattered applause from all around you. Slowly, you sniffle and pull away, wiping your eyes with a smile and a laugh. Dean helps you stand again, and you brush the dust off your knees as shoppers crowd in to congratulate you. You nod along and thank them, a little embarrassed at all the attention, but soon you’re following Dean out of the store. An employee stops you at the door to give you a gift card from management, which you pocket in a daze.

Neither one of you has bought anything, and you’ve totally forgotten to reserve the couch and coffee table you’d come for, but Dean leads you out to the Impala anyway. Then, once you’re away from prying eyes and the warmth of the sun is on your skin, he kisses you. His hands find your hips as he presses you back against the passenger side door, and you wrap your arms around his neck. Dean’s kiss is sweet and slow, and you know that it’s going to be something you remember for the rest of your life.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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deanwbigbang · 4 months ago

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No Direction Home

Author: amypond45 Artist: midnightsilver Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 15K Tags/Warnings: amnesia, Stanford-era, first time

Summary: Dean is overwhelmed with guilt when Jessica dies at the end of the pilot. Sure that it’s his fault, he leaves Sam and runs, eventually finding a witch who agrees to alleviate his suffering by removing his memories. But what Dean doesn’t count on is losing his memories of Sam, and when a handsome young man starts haunting his dreams, Dean’s life changes forever.

Fic: LiveJournal | AO3 Art: AO3

#dean winchester #dean fanfic #wincest fanfic #spn fanart #dwbb #dwbb works

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soaringeag1e · 1 year ago

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Escape {70} Final

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader

Warnings: Language, A Tad Bit of Sadness, Fluff

Words: 2,114

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Patreon

The cold weather wasn’t as extreme as it has been in the past, but today was definitely one of the nicest since the flowers had bloomed and the trees were filling out. A perfect day to have off work, especially with you.

You had wanted to go out and enjoy a nice lunch somewhere, preferably a place with outside seating so the two of you could enjoy the day, and Dean knew exactly where to go. It was a nice little place just up the street from the precinct, the balcony out back was blocked by trees, shielding everyone from the streets and giving a nice intimate setting. Plus, now that everything was filling out and the flowers were splashing the town with color, it was the best place to spend such a beautiful afternoon.

Between everything that has happened in the last year, from almost losing you to practically his own life ending in the hospital and then actually losing his best friend just to turn around and get married and then go back to work after calling it quits for awhile, this felt like the first time in a long time that Dean was able to take a solid breath and not have to rush off and do something else. Plus, looking across the table at you and seeing the way your hair shined under the rays of the sun and the way your eyes seemed so vibrant, he feels like he hasn’t been able to enjoy your beauty for awhile either. Something that tore at his heart a bit.

“You’re so beautiful.” he slips, saying it out loud when all he was doing was thinking it. When your eyes lock with his and your smile shines he has to remind himself to breathe. It’s like having a first date with you all over again, but now you’re his wife. Something he still can’t believe.

Your cheeks darken and your head ducks a bit as you try to hide the blush. You busy yourself with grabbing your napkin from the table and placing it in your lap and it seemed to be just in time too. Just as you did, the waitress came out with your dishes. You had ordered some pasta dish that Dean was now kind of regretting he didn’t get and he had fallen in his usual hole of ordering a juicy burger with extra onions.

“That looks good.” he comments, nodding towards your bowl before snatching a fry from his plate.

“You want to try some?” As you grab your fork and spear a bit of everything, Dean shakes his head, not wanting to steal your food from you. But you’re not taking no for an answer. Cradling your hand under the fork so as to not lose anything, you reach across the table so he can have a bite.

The second it lands on his tongue he’s in love. The flavor is ridiculous and he’s trying so hard to savor the bite. If his burger is half as good as your pasta, then he can’t wait to attack it.

“Good?” All Dean can do is make satisfied groans which of course makes you giggle, getting him to open his eyes again and look at you.

“So good.” he adds when he finally swallows the bite down. He takes another fry from his plate and then he is so ready to grab that burger and sink his teeth into it, but before he can pick it up, he catches another glimpse of you and it has him hold off for another moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” you answer with a bit of a startle, but you’re smiling. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A small chuckle comes from you, but Dean picks up the nervousness in it and his concern grows a bit more. “I um…I have something for you.” When you reach for your bag Dean is instantly trying to think of what you could possibly have for him, but the entire thing has caught him off guard. “I was going to wait until after we ate, but…” you pause as you struggle to remove whatever it is from your purse. “I just don’t think I can wait any longer.” you tell him as you hand off a thin square box.

He looks at it briefly before taking it from you, his mind racing on why you got him something. Did some special occasion pass? First date? Some new holiday that he didn’t know about? Was he about to be in the dog house for forgetting something important?

Slowly pulling at the ribbon, the string comes loose and he goes to lift the lid on the box. A card sits on top and it isn’t until he picks it up that he becomes even more confused.

Happy Father’s Day

He has to read over the words again, his heart racing a bit more as his brain begins to figure out why he’s getting this from you. He looks up to question you, but his eyes catch the next thing in the box before he can.

His hand trembles as he sets the card aside and then grabs the soft material. Lifting it, it unfolds and falls open to reveal blue stitches.

My Hero wears a badge

I call him Daddy

The little shirt could seriously be worn on his hand, it was so little. But his heart swelled and without realizing, tears sprung to his eyes.

Again, before he can acknowledge you, he sees another object in the box. A small black and white, grainy picture. No perfect outline of a baby yet, but seeing as you don’t even look pregnant he can only assume you’re not too far along.

“I would’ve told you earlier but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.” you finally speak, making his emotions a little more fierce. He nods lightly, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tries to hold it all in. “That’s why I’ve been so exhausted lately.” you giggle and that’s when Dean gets out of his chair and comes around to you. His hands lightly pull on yours and pull you up from your seat and that’s when he wraps his arms around you. His lips find your cheek and he just holds you for a minute before whispering.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” That’s when he pulls away, his eyes glistening but his smile beaming even brighter. He seems like he wants to say something, but it just doesn’t come out, so he just leans in and kisses you instead.

You’re not sure how long it lasted, but he rested his forehead against yours, telling you how happy he was and how much he loved you before his phone went off. He wanted to ignore it, but you could tell by the regret in his eyes that he just couldn’t.

“Just give me a sec, okay?” You give him a nod of understanding, taking your seat again as he steps away and giving himself privacy.

A heavy breath releases from your chest, one of relief since you’ve been holding this in for so long. At least it felt like a long time. You hated keeping it from him, but you just weren’t sure how to tell him and you just couldn’t stop overthinking it.

Watching Dean pace around while talking on the phone, you eventually get your own alert on your phone. You catch a glimpse of the text before it clears from your screen, smiling softly when you see that Sarah was checking in on you. She had been keeping up with you of course, being your confidant with all this and she knew how nervous you were for not only telling Dean but for what the future held for you now that you were pregnant. Being a first time mom and not planning on it, it definitely freaked you out. But she was definitely a great rock for you up to this point.

How’s it goin?

Another breath of relief leaves your body, taking some more stress with it as you text her back.

Wonderful

2 Years Later

The chill in the air was almost comforting so Dean was in no hurry to get back to the car. Looking over the engraved letters and numbers, memories flashed in his brain. Some happy and others not so much. He tried not to think back to the last day Eddie was on this earth, but it was hard not to. Seeing that date, he just remembered looking for you and then knowing that while he was dying on the ground in the barn, Eddie was out in the woods, protecting you.

Little scuffles got him clearing his throat and quickly wiping at his eyes before looking over and smiling at the toddler waddling in his direction. Walking was a skill that was mastered about a year prior, but being so little, walking through thick damp grass was something the little one took a bit slower.

“Hey, buddy.” His little arms reached out for his dad, making all three smiles grow. But the little one only remained in his dads arms briefly before moving over to the stone sticking up from the ground. His little hands grabbed the rocky top and he held on for a minute before he laid his head down on it, almost like he was giving the stone a hug,

Dean's heart exploded with happiness and a small amount of heartbreak. There wasn’t a day that went by that Dean didn’t wish Eddie was there to work alongside him again and then after his son was born, he wished he was there to be another loving uncle in his life. But this was the closest the two would get to each other and that's what hurt him the most.

“Awe. You giving uncle Eddie a hug?” you say with a smile, walking up to the two boys. Dean looks up, his smile growing as he looks you over. Your hand runs over your slightly swollen belly as you grin at your son who is now wrapping his little arms around the top of the stone. “That’s so sweet.” It’s then that the boy pulls away, but only enough to now kiss the rock. It was definitely hard for Dean to hold himself together then, but he did. “Yep. We love you, huh?” When you squat down next to Dean, your son walks up to you, letting you take him in your arms while the three of you visit your fallen friend. A few minutes go by when your hand runs over Dean’s back and you smile at him.

“We’ll wait for you in the car?” Dean slowly nods, smiling at the two of you. “Okay. Come on, sweetie. Let’s give daddy a minute.” As you get to your feet, the boy leans over your shoulder, watching his dad while you both walk away.

“I wish you were here.” Dean finally whispers. His eyes still on you as you buckle your son in his carseat. “It’s weird because he reminds me of you.” he says as he turns back to the stone, a soft chuckle escaping him. “At first I thought it was just because we named him after you, but…that’s not it. Makes me wonder if you’re watching over him more than I think.” he laughs again and then takes a breath. “Well,” he says, wiping the dirt off the base of the stone. “Happy birthday, man.”

Looking over his friends name one more time, Dean gets to his feet, holding onto the stone for balance at first, but for comfort after the fact. His hand pats the rigid rock, taking another moment before walking away and heading for the car.

Dean made it a priority to go and see Eddie’s grave every week. It’s just what he thought his friend deserved, especially after what he had done for you. But if a holiday rolled around, sometimes that one trip would turn to two.

Dean felt like that’s the least he could do. He felt like he owed him his own life because if it wasn’t for him Dean would have lost you and he would have never gotten married, never had his gorgeous son and never would be living the perfect life he was right now. He had everything he ever dreamed of and it was because of Eddie that he had it.

There was no way he could repay Eddie for saving you that terrible night, but he definitely didn’t let a day go by where he didn’t talk to his friend and thank him for what he did and he never would.

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gingersnap1620 · 1 year ago

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Make a Memory (Chp.4)

Dean Winchester x F!Oc

Summary: Lillian has trouble sleeping so she decides to grab a snack and while in the kitchen she runs into Dean.

Warnings: Mild spoilers from seasons 8-15, canon typical violence.

Word Count: 1.8k

Song:

Margaret (feat. Bleachers)

A/N: Chapter 4! I hope you enjoy it! @gingernut1314 beta read this for me!

Lillian

I jerked awake covered in a cold sweat.

I scanned the guest room they let me sleep in, trying to catch my breath. The room is so dark that I can't even see my hand in front of my face. I laid back down on the pillow, squeezing my eyes tight trying to fall back asleep.

My eyes snapped open, but what I saw wasn't the same room as before. I sat back up and looked around the room to figure out where I was.

I stood up and walked over to the little table in the corner. It was wooden and it looked old and worn out. There was a book open on top of the table.

This room feels oddly familiar…

“Lillian Cameron MacLeod!”

Mom?

“Did you steal my book again!”

Wait, I remember this.

I looked around the room again realizing that this was my old room, back in Scotland. I crept towards the door, finding it was cracked open allowing light to flow into the room. My mother used to leave the door open for me while she was still up, so I didn't have to fall asleep in the dark.

“Lillian!” I could see her through the sliver of space the door left. “Lillian! Come give it back. Me and Catrione need it!”

Catrione used to perform spells with my mom, but she always took it to the extreme.

I leaned in closer to get a better look at my mom. I haven't seen her since she ran out on us. Her curly, red hair bounced with every step she took. She walked with a certain smoothness that I still to this day don’t understand.

I continued watching until I felt something brush past me and swing the door open. I jerked my head towards the little shadow running out of the room.

It's me.

I must have been six years old.

“I'm sorry mommy, it won't happen again.”

She yanked the book out of my tiny hands and looked down at me.

“We all know that's not true Lillian. Now go back to sleep.”

“Ok. I'm sorry mommy.” Though I remember very clearly I did not go back to bed.

I was still watching from the other side of the door when Rowena walked over to our dinner table. On the table was a man chained down by his wrists and legs. There was also a rope tied across his neck making sure he couldn't move his head.

Little me cracked the door and knelt on the floor right beside it, ready to watch what was about to happen. Catrione said a spell in Latin as Rowena lifted her hand in the air and in her hand there was a dagger.

The man on the table started awake and began freaking out when he saw the two witches standing beside him. Catrione said the last few words of the spell as my mother swung her hand down and stabbed the man right in the middle of his chest.

The man's shrill scream jolted me awake.

Great.

I walked out of the guest room and down the hall trying to find the kitchen. If I can't fall asleep I might as well get a late-night snack.

Once I found the kitchen I walked over to the fridge dragging my feet. I was too tired to lift them up. I grabbed the bottle of orange juice and a cup. I filled the cup up and went to sit down at the table.

I was halfway through my drink when I heard shuffling coming from down the hallway. I slowly turned my head to see who was coming.

“Oh! Why are you up? It's 3:30 in the morning.” Dean gruffed in a sleepy tone. I looked over his body, noticing he was wearing a pair of hot dog-patterned pj bottoms and a long, gray robe. It was an outfit I wouldn’t have expected him to wear.

“Couldn't sleep,” I said with a chuckle as I looked back down at my cup. “The real question is why are you up?” I looked back up at Dean who was now pouring himself his own cup of orange juice.

“Couldn't sleep either.” Dean shrugged and walked over to the table, sitting across from me.

“Why?”

Dean took a sip from his cup and looked at me. “Can't shut off my brain, you know?”

“I hate that,” I said, looking away from him for a second before looking back.

“What's keeping you up?”

“Nightmares.” I sighed.

“You wanna talk about it? Sam used to get bad dreams and talking it out always helped him go back to sleep. I guess it showed him that it wasn't real.”

“Yeah, well, my dreams aren't like that,” I said looking down into my cup, avoiding eye contact with him. We sat there for a moment in silence. I could feel Dean's eyes digging into me like daggers.

“Lillian, look at me.” Dean whispered gently. I tilted my head up to look up at him. “You can tell me. I promise I've probably heard worse.”

I sighed deeply, not breaking eye contact with him. “The nightmares I have aren't just something my brain whips up. They're usually memories.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, furrowing his eyebrow in confusion.

“Well, my magic, it's not all just normal witch powers.” I paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I guess when I was born some of my mother's powers were already in me, so when I got older and more curious about why I had these bad nightmares and why I could see things that the other kids couldn't see, I started exploring them more.”

“Wait a second, your--” Dean looked like he second-guessed what he was about to say and shook his head, “Sorry I don't mean to interrupt, keep going.”

“No, what were you gonna say?” I chuckled.

“Your mom didn't teach you how to use your powers?”

“She helped me learn how to use normal witch powers that start from a book. The “gift” I got when I was born is unique. Meaning I'm the only witch in the world who has them, and trust me I've looked. I'm the only one. I can basically control memories, or get haunted by them. Also my mother…she wasn't the greatest mom. I mean she had me and my brother, Fergus-”

“Fergus? How do I know that name?” Dean asked himself under his breath.

“It's a Scottish name.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, sorry, continue.” He shook his hands in a motion to tell me to continue talking.

I chuckled softly and continued. “When I was two my mom had my brother. And when I was six she left me and my brother with her baby that she had just given birth to, Hunter. I raised both of my brothers for three years before she left the twins on our doorstep. Their names were June and Georgina.

So now I'm nine and raising four kids. She didn't stop there either, she had two more babies. The youngest two, Owen and then Lindsey. I was a little bit older with them so I knew how to handle them better.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered under his breath. “How was she before she left? If you don't mind me asking.”

“No, I don't mind. I've already told you more than I've told anyone.” A nervous chuckle escaped my lips.

“She wasn't a good mother, but she wasn't absolutely terrible either. I mean she is the reason why I have worse nightmares now than I did before. But I know she did love us, she just…didn’t understand that love is not a weakness.”

“I get that. That's how my dad was.”

“What do you mean?” I leaned on the table more, which ended up making us pretty close.

“After my mom was killed by that demon my dad went into a sort of “shut down mode”. He treated us like crap but I know it was just because he didn't want to lose us as well.” I nodded my head looking down at the table. “So, what was your nightmare tonight? You never know, talking about it might just work.”

I gently laughed under my breath and told him about my nightmare.

“Who was Catrione?”

“She helped my mom with spells and they also went to orgies together.” I saw his jaw slightly drop from the corner of my eye. “What?” I chuckled.

“Oh “what” alright.” He said in a mocking tone. “You can't just casually say they went to orgies together and then expect me to move on with no questions.”

“1. I don't really want to talk about my mom in an orgie, and 2. Why do you think there are so many of us?” I explained laughing at him.

“I don't know.” He said, rising from his seat. “I'm gonna go use the bathroom, don't move.”

“Ok,” I answered with a warm smile on my face. I rested my head on my hand waiting for him to come back. Man, after all that talking I'm exhausted. My eyes felt super heavy. I was fighting to keep them open.

Dean

When I came back into the kitchen I found her asleep, still sitting at the table. I'm glad that she was able to fall asleep again.

I walked over to the table and grabbed our cups and put them in the sink. I walked back over to her and scooped her up in my arms. I decided that since I wasn't going back to sleep for very long, I would put her in my room because I have a little night light in there, and I would sleep in the guest room.

I carried her all the way to my room and gently laid her on my bed. I covered her up with my blanket and started to walk out.

I was just about to shut the door when I heard her call my name.

“Dean?”

“What's up?” I walked back into the room so she could see me better.

“Is there any way you could sleep in here with me? I just really don't want to be alone.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll just go grab the pillow and blanket from the guest room so I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, no, I'll sleep on the floor. This is your house, your room.” she started to get up.

“No, you stay there, you're the lady and the guest. Trust me, I've slept way worse.”

“Are you sure?” I could hear her start to fall asleep again. It was honestly really cute.

What?

No. She's a witch.

What am I talking about?

I opened the guest room door and grabbed the pillow and blanket and walked back to my room.

When I got back in there she was knocked out, so I quietly placed the pillow on the floor and went to sleep.

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