#dean winchester comfort

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Kiss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean Winchester kisses you Word count: 861 A/N: I am debating on making this a series, covering different "Firsts" with Dean.. Any interest in that? Let me know!

The first time Dean Winchester kisses you, it happens in the least romantic place imaginable—an old gas station parking lot on the outskirts of nowhere. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow over the cracked asphalt and the Impala parked nearby, her paint gleaming like polished obsidian. The faint smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp scent of impending rain, a storm brewing in the distance.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about Dean ever feels planned, really. He’s a mess of contradictions—cocky and self-assured one minute, guarded and vulnerable the next. You’ve been riding shotgun with him for weeks now, chasing down leads, salt-and-burning restless spirits, and fighting things most people wouldn’t dare to believe existed. Somewhere along the way, you became more than just hunting partners. You don’t know what to call it yet, but there’s a connection between you, an unspoken pull that you’ve both been too stubborn—or scared—to acknowledge.

Until now.

It starts with an argument. Of course it does. Dean has this way of pushing your buttons, and tonight he’s doing it with the precision of a master.

“You can’t just run in there without a plan!” you snap, your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what was your plan, huh?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “To stand around and wait until the ghost decides to play nice? That’s not how this works.”

“It’s called strategy, Dean. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of going full kamikaze every damn hunt!”

He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta act.”

“And you think too little!” you retort, your eyes narrowing. “One of these days, your impulsiveness is going to get you killed.”

The words hang in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment, Dean just stares at you. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you’ve got it all figured out, why the hell do you even need me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve fought, but there’s something different about this one. The air between you feels charged, like the storm rolling in above. You don’t answer right away, and Dean takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Why, huh?” he presses, his tone softer but no less intense. “Why do you keep sticking around if I’m such a screw-up?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that matches the storm clouds overhead. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Because it’s not that simple. Because you don’t stick around in spite of his flaws—you stick around because of them. Because Dean Winchester, for all his faults, is the kind of person who will throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to save someone else. Because he’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective, and has a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Dean…” you start, but his name barely makes it past your lips before he moves.

It’s not hesitant or tentative—it’s sudden, like he’s been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands cup your face, rough and calloused but somehow gentle, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s not perfect—Dean’s lips are a little chapped, and the angle is slightly awkward at first—but it’s real. There’s an urgency to it, a raw, unfiltered emotion that leaves you breathless. His hands are warm against your skin, grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your hands are fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer as if the space between you is unbearable. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss with a low, almost involuntary sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like the dam you’ve both been holding back has finally burst, and there’s no going back now.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. The storm is closer now, the first drops of rain starting to fall, but neither of you seems to notice.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I probably should’ve—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your fingers still gripping his jacket. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no wall, no mask, no bravado. Just Dean.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Took you long enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and the tension between you finally seems to ease. The rain starts to pick up, but neither of you moves. For once, the hunt can wait. For once, the only thing that matters is this moment—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect all at once.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[sleepyangelkami]

AN ANGEL d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 4.5K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - You're nervous to lose your virginity, Dean shows you everything that you've been missing out on.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!dean, sub!reader, nervous/shy!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, p!v, teasing, loss of virginity, fingering, hickeys (r.recieving), size kink, praise kink, dean is experienced, reader is inexperienced, (1) thigh slap, big dick!dean, boob fondling, boob sucking, reader is smaller than dean, illusions to past masturbation, reader blushes, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

dean liked having you sat in his lap.

this wasn't the first time, your legs stretched around his waist while your hands scrunched idly at the black shirt he'd been wearing, your lips against his own. making out with you had to be possibly the best thing he'd ever done. it was like getting sent to heaven and back, between each breath he damned the gods that disallowed him to press his lips against yours for forever.

but you were new to all this.

he had to be gentle.

dean was the first real relationship you'd ever had. and if he was being honest, you were sort of the first real relationship he'd ever had too.

he used to hop from girl to girl, bed to bed and not think twice about it. you were the absolute opposite. you were the type of girl that didn't speak unless spoken to, you kept your head down and got through everything without so much as letting your imagination wander with what it would feel like to be with a man.

then you met him.

his hands were pinching at the fat of your thighs, he found it hard to keep his hands to himself when you were like this. between kisses, he could hear the shakiness in your breaths, it drove him unbelievably mad.

you felt almost sorry for dean, knowing it'd taken this long to get comfortable enough to even make out with the man. you knew his history and how he wouldn't go longer than a week without someone in his bed. now he'd went more than three months with you like this, aching for more.

and it wasn't like you didn't want more, believe me, you'd been aching just as horribly.

you were just... scared?

deans hands moved harshly against your skin, right hand coming down to gently slap your thigh before gripping it once again. the feeling prompted a low whimper to leave your lips.

dean almost groaned. he could get used to hearing noises like those.

when the man pulled away from your lips, heavy breaths still leaving his own, you swore you could have whimpered again just from the loss of contact.

he looked down at you, eyes all blown wide, lips slick and swollen, it was a sight he hoped was never erased from his memory. he wanted to remember this forever. "y'so needy." he had that cocky grin on his lips, cocking his head to the side as he viewed you as a whole, all his, right in his lap for the taking.

you felt your cheeks get hot at the sentence, eyes immediately darting anywhere other than his face. "don' be mean." was the mumble you let out, eyes adverting and voice lowering. you weren't able to talk to him, not when he got like this, all 'bigger' than you, it made you feel small, it made you feel wet.

"'m not, 'm not." he spoke with a low chuckle, one of his hands raising to meet your face, you felt the padding of his thumb wipe across your hot cheeks, he could tell you were nervous. then again, you were always so nervous. "i think it's cute."

again, your face got increasingly hotter but dean didn't leave you any room for words, dipping his head so his lips could meet your neck.

there was something so surreal about being like this, your hands gripping at his shirt, top lip clamped down on your bottom as he kissed against the skin of your neck.

again, this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. makeouts and hickey-leaving was getting more and more natural in your relationship, common, even.

he'd come home from his hunts with sam and all he'd want was you either below or on top of him, his lips against anything they could reach.

you felt his lips part, sucking against your neck as one hand ran up your back, the other cupping the back of your hair. once he sucked, his tongue would smooth over the skin, pleasure to ease the pain. and he'd go again, gradually moving to different places on your neck. marking you.

your own lips were strewn shut, you were hoping and praying on every star that you didn't let a noise slip from you. you were too nervous, too embarrassed but the whole point of this was to feel good, wasn't it? so why did you feel so embarrassed to show him how good it felt?

your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling suddenly overwhelming.

you didn't register the move of your hips until his lips left your neck and his hands clamped down on your waist, low grunt leaving his mouth.

you stared at him with those big eyes and he swore he was gone. "y'can't do that, sweetheart." despite his words, his tone was gentle. "can't start something if you don't want to finish it."

he knew how inexperienced you were, he thought you wanted to hold off on losing your virginity which is why he'd never made such a move but by the way you were looking at him now, he swore you wanted nothing more than for him to take you.

and he'd gladly do so upon your command.

"i do..." you uttered. ".. want to." the words made your insides twinge, made your nose scrunch and your lips purse.

you were too nervous, shaking like a leaf on top of him. even so, with so much anxiety bottled into a human, dean made no movements of caution.

you sort of liked that dean wasn't as awkward or nervous as you were. dean was confident, that much was for sure. but being so confident also gave him this openness, seeping comfort into your veins as his large, warm hands trailed up and down your thighs.

"yeah?" his voice was breathy and his smile had left his features. he didn't need to be so teasing now, he knew you would simply burst of shyness. and he didn't want you in a position of uncertainty. "what d'you want?"

he wasn't trying to tease you, though he knew his fingers that began to dance against your skin were doing nothing to calm your nerves.

he just needed to hear you say it.

you planted your face into his chest with an incoherent mumble, cheeks alight as flames.

dean could have laughed at you but he didn't want you thinking you'd done something wrong. on the contrary, he found it downright adorable how shy you'd been getting. but you couldn't help it, this was such an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in your stomach.

"can't hear you, sweetheart." his head came down to sit atop yours, his voice a gentle whisper. "i need you to tell me what you want, okay?" his free hand tipped your chin upwards to look at him, those pretty green eyes held so much sincerity. "use your words f'me, baby."

words felt stuck in your throat, you couldn't seem to get them out. but dean didn't want to let this get away from him, he steadied your chin between his fingers.

"i want..." your voice was all breathy, all needy. it had dean reeling. "i want you to touch me."

and as the words passed your lips, you swear all the air was knocked from your lungs. listening to yourself talk had made your head feel fuzzy. before dean, you couldn't have even imagined such words leaving your lips.

dean was struggling to compose himself but nonetheless, he did. his lips quirked into this proud yet sly smirk as his fingers ran up and down your thighs. "where, angel? here?" he practically mocked, fingers against your knee.

at this point, dean had never seen an angel, he didn't believe in them. but he was sure that if angels did exist, you had to be one of them.

you could have corrected him verbally, told him to stop teasing or even scolded him for mocking you while you were all worked up like this. but instead, you chose to grasp his bigger hand in your own and trail it towards your core.

as your hand cupped his own, he could feel them shake, he almost cooed at you but he didn't want to make you more nervous than you already were.

but when his hand finally reached your clothed core, he couldn't help but let out a groan.

it didn't take longer than a second for dean to have you flipped over with your back against the mattress of the bed. a noise left your lips as he towered over you, that infamous smirk etched to his lips.

but a type of seriousness washed over him. "are you sure you want this?"

you knew he wasn't asking you to tease you or make you wait, he was being sincere and you couldn't have been more sincere back by bucking your hips with a low whine of the word, "yes." quickly followed by a "please."

"so needy." he mumbled back, lips moving to your neck while his fingers fumbled at the cotton material of your baby blue sleep shorts. he hooked his fingers around the waistband and tore it off skilfully.

he supposed his experience was paying off.

you didn't have any time to counter what he'd said, too focused on the feeling building in your stomach. much of it was worry, anxiety even but the majority of it was this foreign, amazing feeling.

"fuck." his ring clad fingers circled against your panties. you were suddenly hyper aware of how worked up you'd gotten while making out with him, a blush creeping in on your face as you turned away from him.

dean all but tutted, dragging your face back.

"don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. This wet for me, the least you can do is look at me." he had that empowering stare that told you he was in charge here, it had you shrinking further into the mattress.

but dean wasn't demanding, sure he was dominating but he didn't make you uncomfortable. truthfully, you'd been rather scared of getting this far with anybody but you were sure that if there was anybody you wanted it to be with, it was him.

his hands toyed at waistbands of your panties. "this okay?" his eyes were glued to your face, trying to watch every way your face contorted, making sure you were okay.

believe it or not, there was a lot one could tell from just looking at someone.

you nodded your head briskly, darkened and bitten lips parted slightly, covered in the slick left behind from your tongue. your cheeks had turned a darkened colour too, blush spreading across your face.

there was something so surreal about looking at you like this, knowing nobody else ever had. he pulled the panties down your legs, watching you steadily with his own lips parting open. his eyes moved from yours to trail down your body, landing on your sopping core. he couldn't help but breathe in a breath.

"you're so pretty, angel." he moved his hand upwards again, closed fingers gently toying with your clit, which earned a soft gasp from you. his lips quirked as he brought his hand away, using the other to slip off his ring. he took your wrist, holding it up gently. "take care of this for me, yeah?" you nodded as he slipped the ring onto your thumb, seeing as your other fingers wouldn't fit it. "good girl." he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were a virgin.

now, dean wasn't necessarily put off by the fact that you were a virgin. dean couldn't have cared less what you were. but he needed to make sure he was gentle, more so than any other time.

because he was the first, the one you'd remember forever.

though, he intended to be your very last, too.

his fingers trailed across your pretty tank top, down to your hips and finally edging between your legs. he peppered kisses against your face and down across your jaw, finally landing on your neck, fingers pushing your legs apart with ease.

as shy as you were, you didn't hide from him, you allowed him to part your legs, his hand was against your inner thigh, softly soothing up and down against your skin.

but he had to make sure, before he touched you. "sure this is okay? not having second thoughts?"

of course dean wanted to but he only wanted to if you wanted to. but you nodded anyway, swallowing though your mouth was dry anyway. "'m just nervous." you admitted softly.

it was no secret to dean that you were a nervous creature already. he knew this was all new to you but he didn't want you to feel shy around him. "you don't need to be." he pressed a kiss against the supple of your cheek, hand moving further as you let out a shaky breath. "not with me." as the whisper left his mouth, his hand came up to touch your hot core.

the noise that left your mouth should have embarrassed you but right now, you couldn't think of anything other than the feeling of his hand right where you needed him.

he collected your wetness onto his fingers, spreading it up and down your folds, two fingers parting from the rest as he gently eased them into your hole.

heavy breaths suddenly left you, chest rising and falling while dean's face was practically hidden in your neck, peppering kisses, sucking and licking against the soft skin while his fingers settled inside of you.

he gave you hardly any time to adjust to the feeling, pulling them out and then thrusting them right back into you. "you're so warm, sweetheart." he mumbled in slight awe. suddenly, the image took over his mind, the image of him inside of you. he couldn't seem to wipe it away.

he knew that giving yourself to him even just like this was a lot for you, he didn't want to push you any further than he already had tonight.

however, the image still tainted his memory.

as the speed of his fingers increased, so did the volume of your noises.

a sticky, wet sound bounced from wall to wall, causing your cheeks to warm incredibly further. you flushed, your own hand coming up to cover your mouth, suddenly aware of how loud you'd been.

a coo left his lips, free hand coming to drag your wrist away from your mouth. "wanna hear every noise you can make, angel."

and his words alone made you whimper.

the palm of his hand bounced against your clit with every thrust of his hand, emitting these noises from you that you'd never been able to draw from yourself.

"y'sound so pretty, you know that, baby?" you made a noise to show you were listening, though all it told dean was that you felt good. "look so pretty too. so beautiful. all mine."

dean couldn't keep his hands to himself.

his free hand dragged against your skin, pushing at it as if trying to get closer to you in any way possible.

against his fingers formed a creamy ring. he looked down at his digits sliding in and out of you, wetness surrounding you both, keeping you together by a wet string.

he let his thoughts wander.

as evil as it was, he simply couldn't think of anything else, he imagined it was his dick sliding in and out of your hot, wet hole, the noises you'd make would be so much louder, you'd be so much fuller.

then he was suddenly aware of your experience once again.

you were tight, incredibly tight which only made him scissor his fingers. if you were going to take his dick, he needed to stretch you out first.

"dean!" you spluttered out as he scissored his fingers inside of you. "c-cant."

your hips bucked backwards, as if you were trying to tell yourself to stop, but it felt too good to stop.

and dean knew your body well, more than you knew it apparently for he only tutted, holding your wrist in his free hand. "you can take it baby, there you go." and he must have known what was happening because your insides were turning to mush.

you'd orgasmed by yourself before but this? this was true bliss.

he held your waist down to the mattress as your body squirmed, head falling back into the pillows as his name fell on your lips, moans and whines blissfully leaving your slick lips.

"good girl." he mumbled, pressing kisses anywhere his lips could reach. "you're so good, there you go. atta girl."

his words of praise fell on your lips, only making you squirm impossibly more. but nonetheless, he kept up his pace, fingers moving to help you ride out your high.

dean swore he'd never seen something so beautiful.

he watched in awe, staring at the way your face scrunched up, pretty lips parted and your eyes screwed closed, though he could only imagine you were seeing stars behind your lids, not that he was being cocky or anything.

the sight was pure bliss, angelic, even.

he swore he'd been to heaven and back, just watching your face contort.

and he'd watch it forever, if he could.

he was suddenly aware of how tight his jeans felt.

"i need to fuck you." he was mumbling with a slight neediness in his tone, kissing up and down your throat, his hand only coming to a halt when your own practically pushed it away, the overstimulation becoming too much. "can i?" a beat passed. "please?"

his face rose to meet yours and you stared at him, all blissed out. you swore that his fingers were the most skilled, pleasurable feeling you'd ever felt, much better than to how it felt when you'd done it by yourself. your lips were glossed over, heavy pants leaving your chest. huge eyes and flushed cheeks.

almost a whine of the phrase, "uh-huh." passed your lips.

and it was enough for him.

his lips crashed into your own, kissing you ever so softly, though there was passion hidden somewhere between your heavy breaths.

needy hands pawed at the end of his black shirt, his own hands reached down to cup yours, helping you tear it off of his body. his amulet dangled downwards, just below your face and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that your top was still on. he supposed he'd been too focused on making you feel good to realise.

his hands reached the end of your own top, helping you push it over your head.

no words left his lips but they parted, tongue passing over the bottom one as he stared.

your pink bra was so pretty on you he almost had to think to decide whether or not he wanted to keep it on. but he decided with the latter, hands unhooking your bra skillfully, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

he hardly got to see your boobs, for his hands cupped them as soon as they were let out of the bra. he cursed out a grunt under his breath, one hand leaving your breast so his mouth could replace it.

against the mattress, your back arched, stomach against his own while you bit back the pretty whimpers which he yearned to hear. his mouth worked against you, rolling his tongue back and forth, practically flicking your nipple in his mouth making you unable to contain the sounds you so desperately tried to keep back.

"d―dean!" you spluttered, eyes fluttering shut. his own eyes looked up at you, watching your face contort once again.

he had to have you.

as his face left your chest, a string of spit connected your boobs to his lips.

he wiped it away, though nothing could wipe away that smut smirk he held. nonetheless, he helped himself to shimmying out of his jeans, taking his boxers off with it.

it wasn't until he took everything off that reality set in. you stared, eyes blown wide, he was, well... big. and it was sort of hard not to get nervous, even with the fact that his fingers had just been stuffed inside of you, you weren't so sure it was going to fit.

"you okay?" he leaned down, towering over you. he realised your eyes hadn't moved from his dick, pulling your chin up with his two fingers. "are you sure you want this?"

you nodded your head, thoughts a mere muddle of clouds. "i just... 'm nervous." you admitted, feeling your stomach fill with this fuzzy feeling that you only got when you talked to dean.

"you don't have to be nervous, sweetheart, not with me, okay?" the palm of his hand rested on your face. "do you want this?"

"yes." you answered without a beat.

"promise?" you could have melted right then and there. dean winchester was of many things but above all, he was gentle.

"promise." you mumbled, finding yourself relaxing just at the mere sound of his voice. his hand trailed up to find your own, fingers interlocking yours. his free hand moved down to his dick, pressing it in his hand.

you watched with curiosity yet also nervousness. you'd never seen this done in real life, so the shyness was creeping in as you watched him move his hand up and down his shaft, dragging it towards your wet hole. instantly, a sound left your lips, blush instantly creeping in as your eyes snapped up to him. he only smiled gently at you, finding your shyness rather adorable.

the head of his dick slowly pushed inside of you and that alone had you feeling awfully stretched. he wasn't just long, he was thick too meaning he stretched you out completely. "okay?" you nodded at the sound of his question, the feeling of his lips on your cheek moments after. "'s gonna hurt a little, alright?"

you nodded your head, eyes shutting closed as you braced yourself.

you weren't an idiot either, you knew first times were supposed to hurt but luckily for you, you had dean right there, holding one of your hands tight in his own, soft whispers and kisses against your skin.

what more could you really ask for.

he slowly eased himself inside of you, worried he was hurting you. then again, there wasn't really any other way to get inside without hurting you. he watched as your face contorted, a gentle whimper leaving your lips but he knew it wasn't one of pleasure, more of pain, actually.

he mumbled gentle apologies and left a trail of them in kisses from your neck to your cheeks.

finally, he was in completely and he couldn't help the string of curses that he mumbled under his breath.

dean stayed as still as he could. worry set in, he didn't want to hurt you, not when you'd been so nervous in the first place. he'd been with many girls but you were a tight fit around him, swallowing his dick whole. he couldn't help but almost coo at the way your hole clenched around him.

he felt your hips shift, and he knew you were ready. "can i―fuck, sweetheart, can i move?"

again, you nodded with a subtle whine that told him in other words, yes, he absolutely could move. and that was exactly what he did.

he slowly pulled his dick out from inside you then suddenly slammed his hips back in, his dick hitting the spot deep inside your walls. instantly, he was met with a mewl.

"shit." he uttered, wanting to draw as many sounds like that out of you as he could. his two hands now rested on yours tightening his grip as he placed them over your head so he could gain better access. "oh, fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking pretty."

it seemed as though dean had the mouth similar to a sailor when put in a position like this.

but he couldn't help it, you were staring at him with those doe eyes, pretty noises falling from you. his hips moved with ease, slamming in and out of you, it didn't take him long to pick up the pace either.

your legs lifted to surround his waist, moans leaving the two of you as his hips slammed inside of you.

"shit, you're so good for me." he was a mumbling mess, he meant every word of what he said, though he wasn't too sure what was leaving his lips as of now. "oh, my sweet girl, thaaat's it."

he tipped his head forward, connecting his forehead to your own. your whimpers and whines were swallowed by a kiss, gentle yet so full of neediness, it was exactly what you wanted.

"feels..." you mumbled once your lips had parted, though you were sort of dazed, not all the way there. "feels so good."

"good girl, 's it, take it all." you felt his hand suddenly trail down, fingers soft against your clit while his dick still hot between your gummy walls. "'s okay, you're okay."

you shook your head, swallowing thickly as your hips bucked. "'s―'s too much!" you panted out, moans leaving you as if you couldn't keep them inside.

"you can take it, baby, know you can." but he could tell by the way your face twisted again, you were close.

and so was he.

"you gonna let go f'me? huh?"

at this point, your eyes had fluttered shut and you lips were parted as you nodded, brows strewn together. "gonna... 'm gonna cum, dean."

"that's my girl." he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "cum all over my dick f'me, sweetheart."

you supposed you were more obedient than you thought.

dean watched as you squirmed and moaned, eyes screwed shut as you finally let go around him. he could feel your gummy walls squeezing him tighter, a ring of slick had formed at the base of his dick. the mere sight, his dick still stuffed inside your cunt and you, cumming all over him.

well, it was enough to have any man weak.

which was why he'd finished so quickly, too.

after all, he'd been holding on since you were sat on his lap.

and that one feeling, cumming in your wet, hot walls and watching you with that pretty, stricken and worn out face as you came on him too... he swore he had really been to heaven and back.

when you both rode out your highs, he laid himself on the bed next to you, watching as you reached your hand up, playing with his silver ring that sat on your thumb.

he swore he was staring at an angel.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[flow33didontsmoke]

You’re dating early seasons Dean Winchester.

divider: @cafekitsune

reblogs are appreciated, asks open

[abellmunsonmovie]

dean mood board♥️

[therapyandprozac]

Title: Daddy

Rating: Explicit Smut

Warnings: Daddy kink ofc, Edging, Teasing, Praise kink, Toys, Light BDSM

Words: 1.2k

I didn’t add a name so this is for any fandom or character you wish! (is there a word for this?)

Posted before I could think too much about it 🙈 enjoy ☺️

“Can we talk about something?”

“Yes, love!” He smiles and focuses his attention on you. You blush, you’ve been practicing this conversation in your head for days but you still instantly turn bright red. Doing everything to avoid eye contact you cover your face with your hands. “Wow baby, look at that blush!” He says pulling your arms away from your face, you pull them back to you. However, he’s substantially stronger than you are and easily exposes your face. “What is it?” A huge smile crosses his face.

“I umm,” you start. He guides you to taking a few breaths and staring at the couch. “Well, we’ve been together for a while. We’ve talked about and have done…stuff…” You feel yourself turn into a tomato again as he smirks.

“We have indeed done ‘stuff.’” He laughs.

“What do you want me to call you?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut.

“What do you mean love?” He asks, trying to understand your vague question.

“Like umm, like daddy or sir or something.” You pause and he stays quiet. Your heart races and you jump into a mini rant. “I just the last time we-, you were very…I don’t know...in character and I wanted to call you a title but I didn’t know which of them, if any, you wanted.” You rattle off incredibly fast before being abruptly stopped by the softest lips you’ve ever felt. A familiar feeling of the anxiety of finishing the question, waves away like a rolling tide, the only thing you needed was for him to respond.

“That,” His voice is deep in an almost growl as he continues. “Is an excellent question. No need for blushes or hiding, you can ask me anything without worry, my love.” He cups your cheek. “Which do you prefer?” He asks, his voice coated in velvet. You blush even deeper and look back at the couch quickly. He raises an eyebrow and repeats the question. You don’t answer, way too embarrassed. He waits a few beats before continuing “Would it help if I told you my favorite?” He whispers against your mouth.

You nod rubbing your nose against his. His pupils flutter as he leans forward and bites your ear gently. “Daddy.” He growls. His voice has a that sultry gravel that he only gets when he’s about to fuck you until you can’t walk. You moan and grind against nothing. He takes that as a sign and grabs you so you’re straddling him.

“You’re so hot when you’re too embarrassed to talk. You talk to people for a living, doll.” He nuzzles and kisses your neck as a blush covers your chest and cheeks. “But when you’re here…with me. You can barely put two words together.” You reach your hand down and palm him through his jeans, his breath quickens and he groans.

“Bed?” You whimper. He nods and follows you up the stairs to your room. Stripping along the way, once you get to the room you’re both completely naked. He pushes you against the door, he puts his thigh between your legs for you to grind against. You moan and whisper “Please…daddy,”

“Yes?” He says as if you aren’t coming undone on his leg.

“Please fuck me, god I need you.”

“As you wish.” He says and tosses you on the bed before he kneels in front of your glistening pussy. He gently runs his tongue up the entirety of your cunt. He toys with your clit making you squirm and beg for more. Quick flicks and slow licks, you love how he takes his time and savors every gasp and whine. He slowly puts two long, thick fingers inside, you groan and roll your hips. He plays your body perfectly massaging your g spot and clit with his thumb. All the while taking each of your hands and cuffing them to the bed. He brings you so close with rhythmic, well practiced precision before rapidly pulling his fingers out of you.

“Nope not yet,” he stands up, licking his fingers and smirking. “I am quite proud of you.” He opens a box with a ribbon on it and pulls out a big pink…something. He’s far away but all questions resolve when you hear the vibrations. He turns around delicately playing with the shaking, not so delicate object in his hands as he continues.

“I’m sure that question was burning in your brain for a while, wasn’t it.” You nod. “I can’t hear you, my sweet thing.” He says in a gentle sing-songy voice (think moriarty) as he walks slowly toward you.

“Way too long.” You whimper, already a desperate mess.

“I can hear you pacing, in the elevator at work…” He steps closer and massages the rumbling toy in his hand.

“You mumble under your breath, rehearsing it in the tub, the car…maybe even our last few times.” You instantly blush so deeply. “Hmm that looks like a yes.” You go to cover your eyes but you're stopped by the cuffs.

“Was daddy your favorite too?” You nod frantically with needy groans. Watching his hands get closer to your cunt, he stops and turns the vibratior off.

“Why?” You whine.

“There’s your beautiful voice!” He exclaims. “When I ask you questions,” he runs his fingers gently up from your legs, across your stomach, between your tits and up your neck, placing it finally and firmly to the side of your head to balance himself steadily above you.

“It’s because I want to hear your answers, doll.” He leans in and rests just above your lips, you feel his breath on your lips. “So I ask again, what was your favorite one?” He whispers, the faint minty and familiar feeling of him talking into your mouth washes over you. You smile under his lips and gather all of the brat and (something)) energy you’ve pent up, sass laced tongue and with direct eye contact.

“Daddy.” The smugness falls from your face when you hear the vibratior turn on. A dark and twisted semi sadistic smile covers his face. He breathes in the moment time feels stopped while he looks you over. Light perspiration and pleading eyes, he loves teasing and gentle mind games with his desperate little plaything.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” His voice runs across gravel as he pins the toy to your clit. You cry out and immediately hold your breath to silence yourself. “Breathe baby!” You gasp and when you catch your breath you muffle yourself again and groan under your voice.

“For the love of,” he pulls the toy away and you whine. He taps your clit with the device making a rhythm of whines and groans spill from you. He goes on too long just teasing and taunting…edging you. He hasn’t edged you in so long.

“Oh god yes please, more daddy please please!!”

“Yes, beautiful sweetheart,” he whispers and bites your ear lobe, continuing his tormenting of your clit. You moan and pant heavily, after one deep breath and turning the vibrator to its max setting, you’re so so close, teetering on the edge until he groans against your ear. “Cum for me, my sweet girl.” Your brain snaps and you cum loudly with your nails digging into his skin a little of his blood runs under your nails. You nearly wail as the first orgasam of a very long night rips through your body.

[noraantilles]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: A secret monster fight club pulls you, Sam, and Dean into the dark underworld of New Orleans. When your name is called to fight, survival means stepping into the ring — but the real battle might be against the ones you trust most.

Warnings: violence (hand-to-hand combat, graphic fight scenes), blood and injury descriptions, emotional manipulation, themes of guilt and self-doubt, harsh language, angst with a touch of hurt/comfort, brief mentions of trauma (implied, not detailed), intense emotional conflict, reader has increased healing

Word count: 4.8k

New Orleans wasn’t the kind of city where you expected peace. It thrived on its chaos— the music, the people, the dark corners that felt like they hadn’t seen daylight in decades. But even in this city of whispers and shadows, what the djinn described felt… wrong.

It started the usual way. A bar on the edge of the French Quarter, where the air smelled like spilled beer and gumbo. The djinn, Kael, found you in the middle of a quiet drink, tumbling through the doorway of the bar. His appearance didn’t scream “monster.” No glowing tattoos or deadly aura. Just a guy in a worn hoodie, his hands tucked in his pockets like he was ready to bolt.

“You’re hunters, right?” he asked, his voice rough, like he hadn’t used it in days. His eyes flicked from Sam to Dean to you, sizing you up. “I need your help.”

Dean didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Yeah, no. We’re good.”

Kael sighed, stepping closer. “You don’t even know what I’m asking yet.”

“And we don’t care,” Dean shot back, his tone sharp. “Djinn don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to asking for help. Usually, you’re too busy stuffing people into nightmares.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kael said quickly, holding up his hands. “This isn’t about feeding or whatever you think we do. This is… different.”

“Different how?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Kael hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door. “There’s a fight club,” he began, his voice dropping. “For monsters. Underground, secret, brutal. They’re not just fighting each other anymore. Humans are starting to show up - hunters. And not willingly.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he finally looked up. “What do you mean, ‘not willingly’?”

“They’re being taken,” Kael said simply. “Dragged into the ring as trophies. They don’t stand a chance.”

“And you care… why?” Sam asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Kael’s shoulders stiffened, and his jaw clenched. “Because they’re taking my kind too. Not all of us want to be killers. Not all of us want… this.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought you saw something raw in his expression. “I tried to stop it on my own, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

Dean snorted. “And you think we’re just gonna trust you? That you’re some kind of saint? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kael snapped, his voice rising. “It’s about survival. They’ll come for you too, eventually. Hunters are the biggest prize. You want to wait for that, or do something about it now?”

Your table went quiet. Sam leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, deep in thought. Dean’s eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming against the table.

“This could be a trap,” Dean muttered, his voice low. “For all we know, he’s setting us up to be the next act in this freak show.”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted, his gaze fixed on Kael. “But if he’s telling the truth… we can’t just ignore it.”

Dean scoffed, pushing his glass away. “You realize how insane this sounds, right? An underground fight club for monsters? What’s next, monster karaoke?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, but the tension in the room was palpable. “Dean,” you said, your voice steady, “if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth, we have to check it out. People’s lives are on the line.”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at Kael. “But the second you so much as blink wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”

Kael nodded, his expression grim. “Got it.”

Sam stood, grabbing his jacket. “So where do we start?”

Kael gestured toward the door. “I’ll take you there.”

As you followed Kael out into the humid New Orleans night, the tension between the three of you lingered. Sam and Dean exchanged wary glances, their hands hovering near their weapons. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be one of those cases that left scars — physical or otherwise.

The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic, tucked between crumbling brick walls and the darkened riverbanks of New Orleans. The air smelled of mildew and oil, and faint vibrations of bass-heavy music thudded through the ground. Kael led the way, silent but tense, his shoulders rigid as though bracing for a fight before it had even begun.

The bouncer at the door was a demon, massive and his eyes blackened when the four of you approached. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles bulging beneath his black T-shirt, and he had an expression that said he wasn’t here to negotiate.

Kael approached him with careful confidence, pulling a small coin from his pocket. It glinted faintly in the dim light. “Morrick,” Kael said, his voice steady. “Let us in.”

The demon raised an eyebrow, eyeing Kael like he was a bug he might enjoy squashing. “What’s this?” Morrick rumbled, his voice deep enough to rattle your chest.

“Payment,” Kael said shortly. “And a promise that we’re not here to cause trouble.”

Morrick’s gaze shifted to the three of you, lingering a little too long on Dean, who stared back with that signature Winchester mix of defiance and irritation. “Hunters,” Morrick said, his lip curling into a sneer. “Interesting company you’re keeping these days, Kael.”

“They’re with me,” Kael said quickly. “And if anyone asks, they’re… participants.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, not happening.”

Morrick gave a low chuckle, stepping aside as the door creaked open. “Good luck,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

The warehouse opened into a massive, dimly lit chamber. Neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the crowd. Monsters of all kinds filled the space—vampires with sharp grins, werewolves with twitching ears, ghouls hunched in shadowed corners. The air was electric, buzzing with adrenaline and bloodlust.

At the center of it all was the cage—a brutal structure of rusted metal and electrified fencing. The pit was stained dark, and the crowd roared as two figures inside clashed violently, their movements a blur of claws and fangs.

“This is it,” Kael muttered, his voice barely audible over the din. “Welcome to the ring.”

Sam’s expression hardened as he scanned the room, his jaw tight. “This is worse than I thought,” he said.

Dean grimaced, his hand resting instinctively on the knife hidden beneath his jacket. “Yeah. Real cozy.”

“What’s the deal here?” you asked Kael, keeping your voice low. “How does this work?”

Kael sighed, motioning for you to follow as he navigated the crowd. “The fights are arranged by tiers. Winners move up; losers… well, let’s just say they’re not walking out of here. Every monster here is either a fighter or a gambler. They come for the blood and the chaos, but mostly for the money.”

“And the humans?” Sam pressed, his voice edged with anger.

“They’re the showstoppers,” Kael admitted, glancing away. “They save them for the big rounds. Hunters are a rare catch. Makes for a good spectacle.”

Dean stopped in his tracks, grabbing Kael by the arm. “You didn’t think to mention this before?”

Kael pulled free, his expression guarded. “Would it have changed anything? You’d still be here.”

Dean looked like he was about to deck him, but the sound of a loud buzzer cut through the noise, followed by the announcer’s booming voice.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer growled, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. “We have a special treat tonight! A fresh contender has entered the ring — an unexpected guest. Give it up for…”

The announcer paused, letting the suspense build.

“[Y/N]!”

Your stomach dropped as the crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, monsters craning their necks to get a look at you. Sam and Dean turned to Kael, their faces a mix of confusion and fury.

“What the hell is this?” Dean hissed, stepping toward Kael.

Kael put his hands up defensively, backing away. “You needed a way in, remember? This is it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam snapped. “You used us?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Kael said quickly, his voice rising. “This is the only way to get close enough to stop it. You wouldn’t have gotten through that door otherwise.”

“You son of a—” Dean lunged, but Kael was faster, slipping back into the crowd before Dean could grab him.

“You’re dead, Kael!” Dean shouted after him, his voice seething with rage.

Sam turned to you, his expression pained. “What do we do?”

You took a deep breath, your hands balling into fists. “We go along with it. For now.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like we have a choice,” you shot back. “They’ve already called my name. If I don’t go in, they’ll kill us all.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His fists tightened at his sides, the anger radiating off him in waves. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, glaring into the crowd as you stepped toward the ring.

The cage door creaked open, and the crowd’s noise swelled. Your opponent — a hulking werewolf with a cruel grin — waited in the center, claws glinting under the dim lights. The cage door slammed shut behind you with a resounding clang, the sound echoing through the warehouse like a death knell. The crowd surged closer, their roars a frenzied mix of bloodlust and anticipation. The electrified fence hummed faintly, casting a faint blue glow over the ring.

Across from you, your opponent stepped forward. He was easily six and a half feet tall, his muscles straining against the ragged remains of a shirt. His yellow eyes glinted under the dim light, and his grin revealed rows of sharp teeth.

“Well, aren’t you just a snack,” he snarled, his voice low and guttural.

You tightened your fists, planting your feet firmly on the bloodstained ground. “I’m a lot tougher to chew than I look.”

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets! Who will take the first win of the night—our reigning champion, Garrick the Wolf, or our newcomer?”

The crowd erupted, jeering and shouting. Dean’s voice cut through the chaos: “You’ve got this, [Y/N]! Stay sharp!”

Sam was quieter, his gaze locked on you with the intensity of someone already calculating the odds.

The werewolf didn’t wait for the bell. He lunged at you with startling speed, his claws slashing through the air. You barely ducked in time, the tips grazing your shoulder. The crowd roared in approval as you rolled away, springing to your feet.

“Fast,” Garrick sneered, circling you like a predator. “But not fast enough.”

He came at you again, this time aiming low. You sidestepped, landing a sharp kick to his ribs. The impact sent him stumbling back, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Garrick grinned, licking his lips like he was enjoying the challenge.

The next hit came hard and fast—a clawed hand slamming into your side. Pain shot through your ribs, and you staggered, barely managing to stay upright. Dean’s voice rang out from the sidelines, sharp and panicked. “Stay on your feet!”

Sam leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cage. “Come on, [Y/N], you can do this!”

The werewolf pressed his advantage, throwing a flurry of punches and swipes. You blocked most of them, but a few slipped through, leaving your arms bruised and stinging. The crowd roared louder with each hit, the bloodlust palpable.

But you weren’t out yet.

As Garrick reared back for another swing, you saw your opening. You ducked low, dodging his claws, and drove your elbow into his stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, and you followed up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw. The force of the blow sent him staggering, blood dripping from his split lip.

The crowd quieted for a moment, stunned by the sudden shift. Dean let out a low whistle. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Garrick growled, his yellow eyes blazing with fury. He charged again, but this time, you were ready. You sidestepped his attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. With a swift kick to the back of his knee, you sent him crashing to the ground.

He tried to get up, but you didn’t give him the chance. You drove your fist into his face, then another, and another, until he slumped unconscious beneath you. The crowd erupted in chaos, half cheering, half booing.

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Winner: [Y/N]!”

You stood, breathing heavily, your knuckles throbbing. Blood — his and yours — splattered your clothes, but you barely noticed. Your gaze flicked to Sam and Dean, who were both watching with a mix of shock and pride.

“Holy crap,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Where the hell did she learn to fight like that?”

Sam smiled, his relief evident. “You did good,” he said simply, his voice warm with pride.

You gave them a small nod, your lips curling into a faint smile despite the ache in your ribs. The fight was over, but you knew this was just the beginning.

As the cage door creaked open and the crowd shifted its attention to the next match, you stepped out, already preparing for what came next.

The air in the club grew heavier with each match, the metallic tang of blood mingling with sweat and the faint, acrid smell of fear. After your first win, the announcer wasted no time calling you back into the cage. No rest, no reprieve—this place thrived on brutality, and the crowd was hungry for more.

Your second opponent was a vampire, lean and fast, his fangs glinting under the flickering neon lights. He smirked as he entered the cage, running his tongue along his teeth. “You’re dead meat,” he hissed, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

The fight was harder than the first. He was quick — almost too quick — and his punches came in rapid succession, each one a blur. But you held your ground, focusing on your footwork, waiting for an opening. When it finally came, you struck with precision, driving your knee into his chest and landing a series of blows to his face. By the time he hit the floor, the crowd was roaring your name.

Sam and Dean watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of pride and unease.

“She’s wiping the floor with them,” Sam said, shaking his head. “How is she doing this?”

Dean crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving the cage. “I don’t know, but it’s starting to freak me out.”

The fights kept coming, each opponent more dangerous than the last. A hulking shapeshifter. A snarling hellhound. Even a demon who fought with a kind of reckless fury that left the crowd on edge.

Your movements became sharper, more calculated with each match. You dodged blows that should have flattened you, landing punches and kicks with surgical precision. Blood smeared across your knuckles, your clothes, even your face, but you didn’t stop. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out the pain, the exhaustion.

“You see that?” Dean muttered as you took down the demon with a final blow to the head. “That’s not normal.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed. “She’s in the zone. But how long can she keep this up?”

Dean didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

They didn’t let you leave the cage after each fight. Instead, a group of medics — ghouls with steady hands and empty eyes—patched you up as best they could before shoving you back into the ring. Dean paced outside the cage, his frustration mounting with every match.

“This isn’t right,” he said, glancing at Sam. “She’s good, but they’re going to wear her down. It’s not a question of if—it’s when.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll figure something out. Just… trust her for now.”

Dean didn’t respond, but his scowl deepened as the announcer’s voice echoed through the club once again.

The fights became a blur, each one blending into the next. Your body moved on autopilot, ducking and striking, blocking and countering. The crowd’s chants grew louder, more frenzied, as you kept winning.

By the time you finished your latest match — a brutish ghoul with fists like sledgehammers — you could feel the wear and tear on your body. Your ribs ached with every breath, and your legs threatened to buckle beneath you. But when the cage door opened, you walked out with your head held high, ignoring the blood dripping from your temple.

Dean met you at the edge of the cage, his eyes scanning your injuries. “You good?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face with the back of your hand. “It‘ll heal, soon.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, but he stepped aside as the medics pulled you away.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sam said, his tone somewhere between awe and concern. “But you need to pace yourself. These things… they’re not human. They don’t tire the way we do.”

You gave him a faint smile, the adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. “Good thing I’m not normal, either.”

As you sat on a splintered bench, waiting for your next match, you noticed Kael watching from the shadows. He gave you a small nod, but there was no satisfaction in his expression—only guilt. You didn’t have the energy to glare at him, but you made a mental note to settle the score once this was over.

The announcer’s voice rang out again, pulling you from your thoughts. “And now, the champion of the evening, the one you’ve all been waiting for��� [Y/N]!”

The crowd erupted, their cheers echoing through the warehouse like thunder. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache in your muscles. You had a faster healing factor than normal humans but this was a challenge even for you. Sam and Dean watched you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“This is it,” you thought to yourself as you stepped back into the cage. “One more fight.”

The cage was eerily quiet after your last fight. The crowd, normally a cacophony of cheers and jeers, seemed to hold its breath. Even the announcer paused for a moment longer than usual before stepping back to his microphone.

“And now, for the final match of the night…” His voice boomed through the warehouse, and the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. “A battle you won’t forget. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome Y/N’s last competitor,

Dean Winchester!”

The roar that followed was deafening. You froze mid-step, your blood running cold as your name was called alongside Dean’s. Turning toward the sidelines, you saw Dean standing there, equally stunned, his face a mask of disbelief.

“What the hell?” Dean growled, shoving past a group of onlookers to approach the cage. “This has to be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” Kael muttered from the shadows. He avoided eye contact, his posture tense. “They want to see a fight. A real fight.”

Dean’s fists clenched. “You think I’m gonna hit her? You think I’m gonna just—”

“Dean,” you interrupted, your voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “We don’t have a choice.”

His green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded. “Like hell we don’t,” he spat. “I’m not fighting you. End of story.”

The announcer’s voice cut in again, dripping with amusement. “Come on now, folks, don’t keep us waiting. Let’s see who’s really the best.”

The crowd grew restless as Dean followed you into the cage. He followed reluctantly, every step heavy with tension. Once the door slammed shut behind you, the jeering started again, chants rising for blood.

Dean turned to you, his jaw set. “I’m not doing this.”

“You have to,” you said firmly. “It’s the only way out.”

“No,” he snapped, his voice louder. “I’m not gonna fight you. End of discussion.”

The crowd booed, some even throwing bottles against the electrified fencing. The announcer’s laughter echoed overhead. “Looks like Dean Winchester’s gone soft!”

Dean’s scowl deepened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, though they stayed by his hips. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice so only Dean could hear. “Dean, listen to me. They want a show. If we don’t give them one, they’ll kill us. All of us. You, me, Sam—everyone.”

His nostrils flared, and he shook his head, pacing like a caged lion. “There’s gotta be another way.”

“There’s not,” you said, your tone soft but unyielding. “So hit me.”

Dean stopped pacing, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

“Hit me,” you repeated, stepping closer. “Start the fight. Make it look real.”

“I’m not hitting you, for God’s sake!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the noise.

You sighed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Fine. Then I’ll hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he muttered, but there was doubt in his voice.

You raised your fist, but before you could swing, he grabbed your wrist mid-air. “Don’t.”

The crowd roared again, and the announcer taunted over the microphone. “Come on, Winchester! Show us what you’ve got!”

“You’re not leaving me any choice,” you said, pulling your hand free. “If you won’t fight me, I’ll make you.”

And then, you did it. You said the words you knew would hurt. The words that would cut deeper than any punch.

“Look around, Dean.” Your voice was low, sharp, each word slicing through the noise of the crowd. “All this time, you act like you’re the hero. But now, when it matters most? You can’t even throw a punch.”

Dean shook his head, his expression hardening. “Yeah, real classy of you.”

“You’re no hero, Dean Winchester. Everywhere you go, everything you touch falls apart. And you know it.” You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. “Ever wonder why Sammy’s still with you?”

Dean froze, his shoulders stiffening. “Don’t.”

“It’s because he feels like he has to,” you continued, your tone colder now. “He’s cleaning up after the mess his failure of a brother keeps making.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t move. You stepped closer, driving the knife deeper. “You think you’re better than John, don’t you? But deep down, you’re terrified you’re exactly like him.”

“Stop,” Dean warned, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

“You’re a mess, Dean. And the worst part is, you know it. You think Sam looks up to you?” You leaned in, your voice dropping into something almost mocking. “He pities you.”

That was it. The punch came fast and hard, like a freight train you didn’t see coming. It landed squarely, pain exploding in your nose as the world spun. The crowd erupted, their bloodthirsty cheers ringing in your ears.

You stumbled but didn’t fall, spitting blood onto the ground. A dark, jagged laugh bubbled up, cutting through the chaos. “Finally,” you muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean’s face twisted with anger, his eyes blazing. “You want a fight? Fine.”

The punches came hard and fast, each one heavier than the last. You blocked a few, letting him land enough to make it look real. The crowd screamed with excitement, their bloodlust fueling Dean’s rage.

Your ribs ached, your vision blurred, but you didn’t stop. You threw a few half-hearted punches, enough to sell the fight, but not enough to hurt him. You could see it in his eyes — he didn’t want to do this, but the anger you’d provoked in him gave him no choice.

Finally, with one last punch to the side of your jaw, you went down. The world tilted as you hit the floor, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The announcer declared Dean the winner, but you barely heard it over the ringing in your ears.

Dean stormed out of the cage without looking back, his fists still clenched, his shoulders heaving. The medics swarmed you, their cold hands dragging you to your feet. You waved them off, stumbling toward the edge of the cage where Sam was waiting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

“It‘ll heal,” you muttered, wincing as you reset your broken nose with a sharp crack. The pain was fleeting, already fading as your body began to heal.

Sam’s eyes followed Dean as he disappeared into the crowd. “He’s not okay.”

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face. “I’ll talk to him.”

And with that, you pushed past the medics and toward Dean’s cabin.

You found Dean in the corner of the dimly lit cabin, sitting on a rickety chair with his head down. His hands were wrapped in bloodstained bandages, fingers twitching slightly, and his right leg bounced up and down in restless rhythm. He didn’t look up as you entered, the tension in the room almost suffocating.

“Dean?” you said softly, taking a tentative step closer.

“Get out,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and low.

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of his words hitting you harder than the punch he’d landed earlier. For the first time, it occurred to you that maybe you’d hurt him more than you intended �� not physically, but in ways far harder to heal.

“Please, let me explain,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

“No.” He finally looked up, his eyes tired and red-rimmed. “You said enough.”

“Whatever I said out there, it’s not what I think about you,” you began, your words rushing to fill the silence.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was louder now, sharp with frustration, his gaze locking onto yours. “Then why the hell did you say it?”

“Because I knew you think those things about yourself,” you replied, stepping closer. He stiffened but didn’t stop you. “I had to find a way to push you, Dean. You’re stubborn as hell, and I knew you wouldn’t fight me unless I made you angry enough.”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your eyes level with his. His leg stilled, but his fists remained tightly clenched.

“And it was a mean move. I know that. But the person you fought out there wasn’t me,” you said, your voice softening.

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion breaking through the storm of emotions on his face.

“You fought yourself, Dean,” you continued. “Every punch, every ounce of rage — it wasn’t about me. It was about the things you believe about yourself. And you fought like a damn king because deep down, you don’t want those things to be true.”

His breathing hitched, but he didn’t look away.

“And you’re absolutely right for it,” you said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Because none of it is true. Not one damn word.”

Dean’s eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to keep it together.

“I could give you a million reasons why everything I said is false. You’re not John. You never were. You’re Dean Winchester. The man who always puts others first, even when it tears him apart. The most skilled, pie-obsessed, Led Zeppelin-loving hunter I know.” A faint smile touched your lips. “And the best older brother anyone could ever ask for.”

A single tear escaped down his cheek, and he looked away, his jaw trembling. But you didn’t move, holding your ground.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” you said quietly. “And you should be proud of yourself, too.”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it knocked the air from your lungs. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, holding him just as tightly.

The two of you stayed like that, silent, the weight of the night slowly lifting.

Finally, you broke the quiet. “And don’t think you have to apologize for hitting me,” you said, your tone light, teasing.

Dean pulled back slightly, a small chuckle escaping him. “Nah, you deserved it.”

You smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through your chest.

Maybe you both had your scars, but in this moment, you knew they’d heal.

[deanscherrypie69]

Did it mean something? D.W𖧷

♡Dean Winchester X Female Reader♡

♡Warnings: Mentions of kissing, and language no use of Y/n. 18+ pls minors DNI!!!!!♡ please do not post my fics anywhere else expect tumblr, you have been warned!

♡Feedback is appreciated! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!!♡

♡Depending how this does I’ll post a part two!♡

♡My inbox is open for anything! (It will be open for requests soon!)♡

It had been a few days after Sam went to hell. Dean had lost his brother and you had lost your best friend that day. It was hard on you both. You didn't talk about it.

You both had been pushing your feelings down, about the whole situation, too scared to open up. Since Sam had been gone you and Dean had been hunting nonstop. It had been an easier way to cope with everything. Just pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

You And Dean had just finished vamp hunt and he offered to get food for you both.

After the hunt It had been raining like cats and dogs, you had been stuck in the hotel room trying to get a signal on the tv. "Come on!" You scream hitting the sides of the tv, it had been going out since the storm started, you sigh and run you hand across your face, when you were met with black and white static.

"Piece of shit-" You mutter kicking the bottom of the tv stand. You huff and sit on the edge of one of the motel beds.

You and Dean had been laying low for the past couple of days. You didn't hear from Bobby nor cas. You flop back onto the bed with a groan.

That was until the motel door swung open causing you to look over.

"Still nothing?" Dean questions throwing a white fastfood bag onto the little table in the kitchen.

"Nope." You say still looking at the ceiling.

You hear shuffling for a second, then you see the green eyed hunter standing over you with something wrapped in tinfoil. "Eat." He says placing it next to you.

You quickly sit up and grab the burger. You watch as Dean sits on the bed opposite bed across from you, he begins to unwrap the burger he had gotten both of you.

You watch as he bites into it, but you also noticed his wet hair. You watch him take two bites before looking in your direction.

Dean stops chewing the food in his mouth, "What?" He questions when he catches you stare at him.

"Nothing." You say.

Dean mumbles an 'ok' and continues to eat.

For some guy who had lost his brother he seems to be doing just fine. You get up from the bed, and walk into the kitchen, pulling out the chair you pull back the motel curtain, you stare out the window and watch the rain fall.

You missed Sam, he was your besfriend - besides Dean you thought, you and Dean were never really close it upset you, he never really talked to you about anything besides Sam. When you entered the room he'd go quite.

You never understood why.

You had been staring out the window for too long to notice the green eyed hunter sitting across from you.

"You really should eat."

His voice rumbles through your body. "I'm good." You say looking from the window and to the man that had been sitting across from you for god knows how long.

Dean sighs and leans back in the chair.

"You okay Dean?" You Hum crossing your arms over your chest.

"As good as i can be." He huffs through his nose, "I could ask you the same thing, I know loosing your bestfriend is hard." He says.

You roll your eyes, "He's your brother Dean."

Dean leans forward on the table his arms resting against the table. He nods his head, "We'll get him back." Dean says taking a deep breath, "We always do." He gets up from the table tapping his knuckles against the wood.

You notice the bruises that sit upon his knuckles, they were purple. He had gotten them trying to fight of a vampire, to save you.

"Sorry about that." You swallow, your eyes still focused on the purple.

Dean follows your gaze.

"Its nothing, happens." He says walking over to the fridge, he opens it pulling out two beers. He holds one up, He knew you weren't very much of a drinker. You hated beer. But why the hell not, right?

You get up from your chair and make your way over to Dean where he was leaning against the counter. He flicks the bottle top off and plops it in the sink behind him.

You copy his motion, you step beside him and plop the top into the sink.

You bring the bottle up to your lips, the bitter liquid runs down your throat. pullinging the bottle away, you notice Dean's eyes on yours.

"What?" You hiccup.

"Nothing," He says bringing the glass bottle up to his lips.

You begin to fidgit with the bottle, you were still facing the sink, staring down at the two bottle tops in the sink. "Do you ever think about it?" You hum.

Dean turns his head in confusion, "Think about..? he questions, you noticed the confusion in his voice.

You take a deep breath, "Getting out, hunting. And living a normal life."

Dean stares down at his bottle, "All the time." Dean sighs.

He had called one of his lovers, Lisa hoping to rekindle something with her now that Sam was gone, she said yes. Dean was supposed to leave by morning.

But Dean didn't know if he wanted too, it would leave you alone and he knew that you were counting on him to be there.

You sigh.

You could see Dean shifing in his spot. What was he thinking about you wonder?

You place the beer bottle down on the counter, making your way over to the bed. The staic looking on the tv fills your ears.

"Do you think about it?" Dean asks putting his bottle next to yours. He strieds over to the bed and sits next to you.

Talking a shaky breath, you turn to face the green eyed man. "No." Dean watches you fiddle with your fingers, as he waits for you to contiue, "I never saw myself settling down, or getting out of this life, it's not for me. This is my life. There's no changing that."

Dean nods at your words.

You look up to find the man looking at you. His eyes searching your face, going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

It all happened to fast, Dean's lips on yours you his on his shirt, urging him to take it off.

This was wrong, you thought. You never felt this way about him. He was so mysterious, he never let you in on anything that happened to him, it was always Sam filling you in.

You both could barely be in a room together without one of you leaving because of the awkwardness.

But maybe it was Dean putting up a guard to try and protect you. He knew you didn't belong in this life, hunting and killing things. It just wasn't right for you.

You're different you aren't like him or Sam. And that's what Dean liked.

You were bought out of your thoughts when Dean nipped your ear causing you to squeal. "everything okay?" Dean questions looking up. You were straddling him.

His lips were pink and swollen from the kissing.

You quickly nod and grab his face, pressing your lips against his.

- - You had been woken up by a pounding on the door, you shoot up out of the bed, your eyes still trying to adjust from the light that was coming through the window.

You quickly pull the covers from your body, cold air hits your skin, you were naked. "Shit." You mumble, the pouding on the door didn't stop.

You looking over on the side of your bed where you were hoping to find Dean but he was gone. A bad feeling washed over you when you slide you t-shirt over your head.

You smelt him everywhere. In your skin in your hair. He was everywhere but no where all at once.

Putting the last leg into your jean's you fling open the door.

You were met with an old lady and a cleaning cart, "Room service!" She smiles, squeezing past you with her cart. You close the door behind you.

You quickly rush over to the bathrrom, maybe he'd just been in there, but you were met with a dark room. His duffle bag was gone. You swallow hard.

You walk back into the kitchen to find the beer bottles still sitting on the counter. Everything was gone, he was gone.

Tears form in your eyes. You grab your socks and shoes, and your coat that had been on the back of the chair in the kitchen chair.

You do a quick run through of the room to make sure you weren't missing anything.

Turing your head over your shoulder you had noticed the tv wasn't static anymore, an episode of 'Dr sexy' Was playing on the screen.

The cleaning lady had made her way over to the kitchen area, throwing away the bottles you and Dean had drank out of earlier.

You sigh and fish the hotel key out of your pocket before setting it down on the table.

You shut the door of the motel behind you, you fish out your phone and scroll through your contacts.

You click on the name before letting it ring a few times.

"Hey Bobby, care to give a girl a lift?"

[burningflamescurse]

48 Stitches

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: after being in a Brutal Fight with a Shifter and Rolling down a Steep Hill a Couple Miles, [Name] is left with a Severe Stomach Injury.

TW: Stitches, Painful Injuries, mentions of a Shape shifter, crying, Infections, fevers, soft and Fluffy Dean.

A/N: trying my shot at my first Dean x reader one shot, first time Writing for Dean so Please tell me what you all think!

This Particular Shifter had been Playing games with you and the boys for a while now, four days To be Exact, leaving Dead bodies in its wake as the person it was Impersonating at the moment. Being the Excellent tracker you were known to be, you and the boys had tracked the shifter down to a mountain above a small town. You had all flashed out your weapons out prepared to take out the Supernatural creature. You had Produced your trusty silver blade, while Dean and Sam drew out their guns which were filled with Silver Bullets.

What you weren’t expecting though was that the Shifter would launch itself at you, causing you both to roll and tumble Down the steep hill of the Mountain going down into the woods, the shifters claws Sunk deep into your belly as you did, practically Shredding the flesh allowing blood to just Pour out. You heard Dean’s worried voice call out for you. “[Name]!”

You grunted as you Struggled with your blade against the shifter’s Brute Strength, the Shifter knocked its Elbow into your jaw Sending you back a few feet into a Tree along with your blade. You narrowly managed to grab your blade and dodge it's claws as it tried to attack you again. You managed to dislocate it’s shoulder but it Pinned you to the ground on your back trying to stab you with your own blade as you tried to push his arm away.

It had managed to Push the Blade slightly into your chest as a Moan of Pain Escaped you before a Single Bullet ran out sending the shifter rolling a few feet away from you as you laid on the Ground fighting for breath as your wounds bled. Dean quickly made his way over to you, Extremely worried. “[Name], oh God.. are you okay?” he asked quietly afraid to even touch your wounds, in fear of hurting you more.

You whimpered Quietly lifting up your shirt slightly, Showing the Cuts and Tears all along your Abdomen, Sam’s Eyes Scrunched up in worry. “That’s not good [Name], you’ll probably need a good amount of Stitches.” he voiced his Concerns. You almost whined at that, both of the boys knew how much you hated stitches. Fortunately you passed out when Sam said that, only hearing Dean’s girlish Scream as you did.

You stirred awake in the Infirmary of the bunker, feeling the soft mattress underneath your back, You had been redressed in one of Dean’s black shirts and a pair of black shorts as to not bother your newly stitched up Stomach. You felt groggy, Sam probably injected you with morphine. You could feel the fuzzy feeling of the drug in your head, it felt good compared to the pain you felt initially.

You heard the door open and your favorite people walked in, Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack. They all seemed happy to see you awake and alive. A loopy smile made it’s way onto your Pale face you weakly beckoned them in with your hand, barely being able to wave them over.

“[Name], are you alright?” Castiel asked in the same monotone Voice he used for everybody; You smiled slightly, Despite being weakened and Bedridden you were able to pat his hand that had made it’s way onto your Shoulder comfortingly. “I’m okay Cas.” You whispered, letting your hand fall back down to your side.

Dean let a Scoff leave his mouth even as Sam gave him a Scolding look, “Dean.” he scolded, his hand Whacking Dean On his shoulder harshly. “No, Sam. she needs to hear this.” Dean Retorted, Pushing Sam away from him before Roughly Addressing you. “You had to have 48 Stitches just in your Abdomen. Not to mention the seven stitches across the wound on your throat, [Name.]”

Your eyes slightly Narrowed at Dean’s accusing tone, was he really saying that this was all your fault, that you were the reason that you had gotten injured, it was the monster who lunged at you first. “Seriously, you’re blaming me?” You shouted, raising up in the bed as you did. Sam Tried to calm both of you down, before someone got hurt that someone preferably being you.

Jack only stared at you, his eyes conveying such concern and worry for you in this state. “Dean, you must be stupid because I didn’t just attack the Thing Like a Reckless kid! It attacked me!” Your hands gripped the sheets as you spoke, showing every emotion that was Spiraling up inside you. “and let’s not forget, you were the one so convinced that it was a demon so we didn’t come Prepared!” You added, giving him a Reality check.

The room was silent for a moment, now Dean just looked Guilty as he could be for Scolding you. Suddenly Jack spoke up, “You Guys defeated the monster though, right?” Dean nodded as Jack’s smile appeared on his face. “then everything’s okay, because you killed it and now all those innocent people are safe.” he finished.

With Jack being the voice of Reason calming everything and Everyone down you were able to lay back down and Rest a bit. You noticed that Dean was still Looking as Guilty as ever, so you grabbed onto his hand with Such affection. “Hey Dean, I’m okay now. I’m here and i’m not ever leaving you anytime soon.” you soothed.

Dean nodded, lifting your hand up to lay a kiss upon it. “okay. Okay, thanks [Name.]. I love you.” he whispered in such a soft Voice, you returned his loving words with a Kiss to his inner wrist.

And for now you knew that everything was going to be alright as long as you had Dean, and Dean had you.

[trailerprk-princess]

𝜗𝜚┊❝𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌❞ | 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!!!: 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭/𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧!

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝 ): (𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧)

𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞

𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

"𝐧𝐨, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝… 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞." 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐟

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧. 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐧𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬. "𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨?" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 "𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬" 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐦

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ᯓᡣ𐭩

[wandering-winchesters]

A Moment That Changed Everything

Summary: After a brutal hunt, a moment with you leaves Dean feeling vulnerable.

It had been a rough hunt. The kind that left you bone-tired, covered in dirt and blood, and grateful just to be alive. Dean had seen his fair share of hunts like that, more than he could count, but this one had been particularly brutal. A rogue werewolf pack, more vicious than usual, had been tearing through a small town, and it had taken everything they had to put them down.

By the time the last werewolf was dead, Dean was running on fumes. Sam had taken a nasty hit but was still standing, while you—you’d fought like hell, never backing down, even when things looked bad. Dean had seen you take a few hard knocks, and it had worried him, but he knew better than to try and tell you to sit out. You were too stubborn for that, and he respected you for it, even if it made him want to wrap you in bubble wrap sometimes.

After the fight, they’d made their way back to the motel, dragging their tired bodies inside and collapsing onto the worn-out furniture. Sam had headed straight for the shower, leaving Dean alone with you in the small, dimly lit room. The adrenaline was still wearing off, leaving him shaky and wired, his mind replaying the close calls over and over.

Dean glanced over at you, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. You looked as tired as he felt, your shoulders slumped, your face smeared with dirt and blood. But there was something else there, too—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the way you were holding yourself, like you were carrying a weight too heavy for your small frame. Or maybe it was the way your eyes had that faraway look, like you were somewhere else entirely.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck in his throat. What could he say that would make a difference? That they’d survived? That they’d made it through another day? It felt hollow, like an empty victory. But as he stood there, searching for the right words, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

And then you were moving, crossing the small space between you in just a few steps. Before Dean could process what was happening, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

For a split second, Dean froze, his brain trying to catch up with his body. He wasn’t used to this—physical affection, comfort, whatever you wanted to call it. Sure, he’d hugged people before, but it was always brief, a quick, reassuring squeeze before moving on. This was different. This was you, holding onto him like he was something solid, something real.

And that was when it hit him. The full weight of everything they’d been through, everything he’d been holding inside. The fear, the anger, the guilt—it all came rushing to the surface, nearly knocking the breath out of him. But instead of pushing it down, instead of brushing it off like he usually did, Dean let himself feel it. Just for a moment, he let himself lean into you, his arms coming up to wrap around you in return.

You were warm, solid, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. He could feel the steady beat of your heart against his chest, the rise and fall of your breath. It was comforting, more comforting than he’d ever admit out loud. Dean closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the embrace, letting himself forget, if only for a moment, about everything outside that small, dimly lit room.

The hug lasted longer than it probably should have, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to pull away. And honestly, Dean didn’t want to. There was something about being in your arms that made him feel… safe. It was a strange feeling, one he wasn’t used to, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was like for the first time in a long time, he could just be Dean—not the hunter, not the protector, just Dean.

When you finally did pull away, it was slow, reluctant, like neither of you really wanted to break the connection. But eventually, you did, taking a small step back, your eyes searching his for… something. Dean wasn’t sure what, but he could see the question there, the unspoken need for reassurance.

He offered you a small, crooked smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was real all the same. “We’re okay,” he said softly, the words feeling inadequate but true nonetheless.

You nodded, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. There was something different between you now, something that hadn’t been there before. The air felt charged, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. Dean could feel it in his chest, a strange, fluttering sensation that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

But instead of overthinking it, instead of trying to analyze what it all meant, Dean did what he always did. He pushed it down, locked it away in that little box in his mind where he kept all the things he didn’t know how to handle. But even as he did, he knew this was different. This wasn’t something he could just ignore and hope it went away. This was you, and that changed everything.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing away as if breaking eye contact would somehow break the spell. “You should get cleaned up,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Get some rest.”

You nodded again, but before you turned away, you reached out, squeezing his arm. It was a brief touch, but it was enough to send that strange, fluttering sensation racing through him again. And then you were gone, heading toward the bathroom, leaving Dean standing there, alone with his thoughts.

As the sound of the shower filled the small motel room, Dean sank down onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. He let out a long breath, the events of the night finally catching up to him. But even as the exhaustion pulled at him, all he could think about was you—how it had felt to hold you, to be held by you.

It left him with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake, something warm and unsettling all at once. Dean wasn’t sure what it meant, wasn’t sure he was ready to figure it out. But he knew one thing for certain: that hug had changed something inside him. It had cracked open a part of him he’d kept locked away for so long, a part he hadn’t even realized was there anymore.

And now, as he sat there in the quiet room, he couldn’t help but wonder what came next. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Not after that. Not after you.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @mishreem

[sleepyangelkami]

INDISPOSED d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you always seem to feel more than upset when you're sick. luckily for you, dean's always by your side when you fall ill, no matter the time.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - sick!reader, illness symptoms, flu, dizziness, aches, reader's a little emotional, eating?, crying, mention of reader's lonely past, non-sexual nudity, kinda crybaby!reader, (1) use of y/n, slightly ooc dean, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there's seemingly a tell tale sign of when you're feeling extra poorly, and that's the feeling of water beginning to pool in your waterline.

you couldn't help the dramatics that would take over your body, much less when you find dean sitting in your bedroom, assuring you that it was alright that he'd come home early from his hunt. "you shouldn't have to leave sam alone 'cause of me." you were a sniffling mess at your desk, for two reasons, one being that you were upset and the second being that your nose was so stuffed you could hardly breathe.

"sammy's fine to figure out the rest of this one, baby." dean was sitting on your bed, girly covers and throw pillows surrounding him. "and i don't have to do anything, i'm choosing to be here." dean's voice was all low and soft, the voice he used when you were upset which was seemingly more often than you'd thought.

you heard him shuffle across the room to where you sat on a brown, tattered chair.

he crouched down so he was eye level with you. "come on, sweetheart, you know you're just upset 'cause you feel all sick." his hand was gently tracing your thigh, soothing you from your sniffles. "think you just need to lay down, yeah?"

you mumbled something that he didn't quite catch with a nod.

he waited momentarily but you hadn't made any decision to move. "y/n." your eyes snapped up to meet his. "come lay down."

"okay." was your sheepish response.

dean didn't often call you by your name, he cast it away with all the lovely nicknames he'd picked out for you personally. nobody was baby but his car, until he'd met you. it came so easily, that soft way of loving.

when dean had you finally beneath the blankets, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, half-comforting and half-trying to gauge your temperature.

"where are you going?" your hand reached out for his lower arm.

dean turned down to look at you, a smile softly reaching his lips. "just getting your medication, baby, i'll be back, don't worry." and this time, the kiss pressed against your forehead was purely because he felt like it.

dean was well aware of your inability to take care of yourself. now, he was in no way calling you a nuisance, he just wished you cared for yourself as much as he did. with that being said, he did always love being able to care for you, it was a way that was so different than having to take care of sam his whole life. perhaps it was because this, he wasn't obliged to do, it wasn't expected of him.

he loved taking care of you but if anything were to happen to him... he'd like to know you could take care of yourself, too.

when dean returned to the bedroom, you were passed out asleep against the sheets. the man couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

you were a chatty person, awfully bubbly at times. and dean loved that about you, listening to you babble on about something and when he didn't catch a word he'd ask you to repeat what you said, it was always funny watching as the gears turned in your head, trying to remember.

sometimes you swore you talked so much that you tuned yourself out.

dean didn't though, he listened to every word that spilled from your lips.

but you were chatty with everyone you were close to. god forbid you ever went on a road trip with he and sam.

but with him you could be quiet at times, you still got shy and nervous around him which always made him coo, there was something sweet at the fact you could be so different behind closed doors, so yourself.

and seeing you like this, your lips drew into a pout and pink staining your ill cheeks, well it was rather nice, he thought.

he hated to be so evil as he was to wake you.

"sweetheart." the mere whisper of the name as his hands came down to soothe your arms was enough to have your eyelids peeling open. "sweetheart, c'mon, you gotta take your medicine."

a half-whine fell from your lips as he sat you up against the bed, sitting too so that you could lean yourself against him. dean was suddenly aware of how much hotter your body had gotten. he hadn't been gone long, just a trip to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and the medication he needed, though it'd taken him a while to find it. he had a bad habit of leaving things in strange places and forgetting about it.

he handed you off the capsules and then the glass of water.

"how're you feeling, honey?" the back of his palm pressed against your right cheek then slightly down your top, to your chest. he was like a concerned mother. "you're really hot."

"thanks." you quipped, leaning your hot forehead against his arm and sipping the water he'd given you.

he rolled his eyes at your remark, obviously taking your sickness more seriously than you were. "'m serious, you can't have blankets."

"dean!"

"no."

"dean, 'm cold." you nuzzled yourself further into dean's warm body, a dark grey hoodie coated his form along with black sweatpants, not his usual attire.

"you're not cold." he took your face between his two hands. "you're sick." pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose. you fought the words 'sap' to come from the back of your scratchy throat. "you can have the blankets but i have to take this off, then." you felt him gently pull at the shirt you'd stolen from him, clad on your body.

"deal." you mumbled, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you.

to make matters worse, you shook your head, thinking it would rid of the dizziness.

"hey, don't do that." he steadied your head before taking the glass out from your hands and placing it on the bedside dresser.

you felt his hands on your shirt, slowly pulling it from your frame. you helped by putting your arms in he air, allowing him to pull it off your body and toss it somewhere on the ground.

"want the tv on?" you nodded your head silently as the man rose from his place on the bed, reaching the tv stand where he picked up the remote and switched it on.

aimlessly, you uttered, "my legs hurt." while sliding back under the pretty covers.

he was busy fidgeting with the buttons on the remote. he never did know how to work your tv properly. "'s just cause your sick, it'll go away, baby."

you huffed at his response, laying your head on the pillows while you pulled the blanket close to you. you were cold but it was that sickly cold where you couldn't tell if it was really a chill or perhaps you were so warm that you felt cold, which didn't make a whole pile of sense.

when dean finally climbed back into the bed, your body practically collapsed on top of him.

he laid with an arm behind his neck and the other trailing shapes across your bare back, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the low tv along with the thumping of his heart.

"are you okay?" you mumbled, voice slick with tiredness. the sickness was weird like that, hitting you suddenly, leaving just as immediately.

dean could have cooed at you. even while you were wrapped up in blankets, sick as a small hospital, you managed to ask him if he was okay.

It was another reason why he liked taking care of you. you took care of each other. "i'm okay."

another hushed mumble. "promise?"

"i promise." he answered honestly, fingers against your skin, moving up and down your back. "get some sleep, 'kay?"

a yawn passed your lips. "okay."

they said sleep was the best medicine, that it cured everything that was curable. well, you weren't sure anyone had said it to you but you just knew that it was said.

you had to beg to differ.

by dinnertime, your temperature was running hot.

earlier was the kind of sick that you could stomach, this was the kind of sick that had you flushed against the headboard of your bed, hands running down your face as you felt your head pound against the back of your eyes.

you could hear dean walk back into the room and you felt guilt soar through your veins.

you knew you were being... difficult to say the least. but you couldn't help it, hot tears gathering at your waterline all over again.

the mattress dipped as dean nudged your arm and you looked up at him with glossy eyes before looking down at the sandwich sitting on a plate in his hands.

"know you said you're not hungry but can you try eat some f'me? 's jam." his tone was all soft and his voice was all quiet. by now, he'd turned off the tv and closed the curtains, noticing how the light had been affecting your eyes. the only light on now was the little lamp sitting on your bedside table so you could actually see your surroundings.

you nodded hesitantly and took the sandwich from him.

dean noticed things about you like nobody else. he very early on found out that you loved jam sandwiches, you loved raspberry jam but you had an awful distaste for strawberry jam so from there on, he never bought strawberry jam on the offhand occurence that you may accidentally use it without looking at the label and get your jam sandwich ruined.

you were halfway through said sandwich when you placed it back on the plate, begging to tear up.

dean immediately took notice of it, taking the plate from you. "wh's wrong, baby? too much?"

you shook your head, sniffling. even the act of shaking your head had you clutching it soon after.

dean tutted, moving your hand away so he could soothe your forehead with a kiss and a gentle movement of his thumb. "poor girl." you heard him mutter under his breath, his brows strewn together in sympathy.

looking up at him, you had those glassy eyes that made his stomach feel almost as nauseous as yours. he didn't have to ask what was troubling you for you answered, anyway, to the silent question behind his eyes. "you're so nice to me."

his heart shattered a little.

it was no supirse that you didn't grow up with much comfort surrounding you and that only got worse as you began to get older. some days, you didn't think you'd ever get the comfort that your body ached for. and then dean winchester walked in, and his one and only goal was to take care of you, was to care for you, was to love you.

so you couldn't help tearing up a little from time to time when you think about the strawberry jam he gave up just for you.

"oh, baby. you're my sweet girl." he pulled you closer to him, putting your forehead against his chest so you could lean your weight on him. "'course 'm nice to you."

he helped you sit on his lap, fully discarding the place wherever his hands could push it to.

then his hands found your body, roaming it with this gentleness yet assertion. you'd put his shirt back on a while ago and discarded the blankets, which he was thankful for. he needed to break your temperature.

you weren't due medication for another two hours and you'd taken all the painkillers you could.

right now, all he could offer was himself.

and that was enough for you.

your arms tightened around his shoulders as you sniffled, tears breaking down your cheeks with a defeated sigh. "hate bein' sick." you uttered, sadness evident in your voice.

"i know, angel, i know." he gently rocked you in his lap, not enough to make your head dizzy but enough to bring you back to the moment, to remind you he was there.

and you stayed like that for seemingly a long time, melting into one another's embrace as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.

you pressed your flush cheek against the hoodie covering his bare shoulder. the tears eventually dried up and all that was left was your frustrated sighs and mumbles.

"'s okay, sweetheart." he pressed a final kiss to your flushed face. "it'll pass."

and he was by your side as soon as it did.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

He’s Not A Machine!

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: when dean collapses from exhaustion, it takes everything in you not to beat the shit outta john

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 4.0k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, john being a terrible father, john being an asshole in general but what else is new

pairing note: reader washes/brushes her hair

author’s note: hiiii me again after many moons of zero contact with this lovely website. sorry for taking so long, hopefully i’ll stay a while this time lol.

It’d been nearly four weeks of back-to-back hunts. This was the seventh motel you and the two Winchesters had been at this month and you were almost ready to call it a night. 

“I’m gonna wash this wraith stench off of me,” you told Dean. You then added quietly so John—who was sitting at the table and cleaning his guns—wouldn’t hear; “Would you like to join me, handsome?”

“More than anything,” he whispered before he bent down and kissed you. John coughed loudly, and you weren’t sure if it was just a perfectly timed accident or a purposeful guilt trip. It was most likely the latter. “But… I think it’s better if I don’t, sweetheart.”

You smiled sadly with a small nod; “Next time, then,” you assured him. You looked up into his eyes and noticed the tiredness laced with the usual burden he carried. He blinked unusually slowly as if he was trying his damndest to stay awake, and you furrowed your brows. “How about you head to bed, you can shower after you get some sleep.”

“It’s alright, I’m not that tired,” he said.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” you asked him, barely above a whisper so that John wouldn’t hear.

John didn’t like you. He didn’t really trust your intentions with his son, and he thought you were just a distraction that would end up getting Dean killed if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t like how easily Dean would get ‘all giggly’ when he was near you, and he didn’t like that his son kept his guard down when he was with you.

He didn’t like the matching rings you wore, or that you too often referred to the other as husband or wife when a stranger would ask. You weren’t married, you were his fucking girlfriend and John fully believed you wouldn’t still be together by the time Sam finished his first four years at Stanford. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, matching your quiet tone. “I’ll shower right after you so don’t use up all the hot water, okay?” There was a teasing smirk on his face which made your worries subside temporarily.

“I promise to leave you some,” you said before you kissed him once more.

**

“Dean are you okay?” you asked, seeing the far-off look in his eyes when you left the bathroom.

“Yeah, I uh…” He rubbed his eyes as he tried to again focus on your face. He looked over at his dad, who raised a brow at his eldest son. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

You followed his line of sight and pursed your lips when you saw John.

“Dean says he’s fine, drop it Y/n,” he told you.

Against your better judgment, you decided not to ask Dean again. With your hair still wet from the shower, you took the brush from your bag and started fixing it. 

“Aren’t you gonna shower, babe?” you asked Dean, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. He started to kick off his shoes when he tripped and fell straight to the floor, his cheek now pressed against the carpet.

“Dean!?” you exclaimed and hurried over to him. You fell to your knees and took him into your arms, shaking him gently in hopes he’d just wake up. “Dean? Dean, honey, please? J-John he’s not waking up!” You pressed your lips to his temple; “C’mon, Dean!”

John had left his spot on the couch and was now hovering over you, as you looked up at him desperately.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah,” you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. John helped you lay Dean down so he could check his breathing.

“He seems fine,” John deduced. “Is there a wound we missed or something?”

“W-We need to call an ambulance,” you said and rushed to grab your phone off the nightstand.

“Y/n, Dean wouldn’t want us to call the cops,” John replied. He seemed a little too calm for your liking, so you weren’t about to let him call the shots regarding Dean’s wellbeing.

“I don’t care, we’re getting him to the fucking hospital,” you said as you dialed and made your way back to Dean. “Now hide your goddamn guns before the paramedics get here—I need an ambulance at the Rosebud Motel room 302, my husband just collapsed unexpectedly.” You ignored the look John gave you when you called Dean that. The operator asked questions and you answered each one; “Yes, he’s breathing… No, no bleeding… He’s twenty-five… Uhm, I’m not sure…” You pulled the phone from your ear; “Has he had anything to drink yet tonight?”

John was putting away the guns and paused to think before he shrugged; “I dunno, I wasn’t watching.” 

Your eyes widened and your teeth clenched, the fucking audacity. Looking at the table you saw three opened beers so you made an educated guess when you answered the 9-1-1 operator.

“He might’ve had a beer or two, but he’s not a lightweight, he’d never pass out after two beers… Yes, his dad is in the room with me… Yes, I can stay on the line.” You took in a shaky breath as you brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. 

“Just stay calm, ma’am, help is on the way.”

“I’m trying,” you replied, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept his hand pressed to your lips. “Th-This isn’t like him, he’s–he’s always okay.”

**

You bounced your leg anxiously as you sat next to John in the waiting room. As you absentmindedly played with the ring on your right ring finger, you couldn’t help but think of the time when Dean had told you how much you truly meant to him almost three years ago.

* flashback *

“I got you a present.” His smile was adorable as he sat next to you on the couch. He saw your face light up and felt the need to downplay the gift; “It’s nothing much, don’t get too excited.”

“Dean, you could give me a dirty sock and I’d love it,” you teased, placing a quick kiss on his pink lips.

“Well… this is like one teer above ‘dirty sock’, I think.” He smirked and handed you the small velvet box. 

You opened it and your jaw fell open; “Oh my god, Dean!”

“I know how much you like mine,” he said quietly.

“I do like yous,” you took his right hand in yours and kissed the ring on his finger, “I love yours, Dean.”

“Well, this one is exactly like mine.” He smiled. “Except it’s in your size, obviously, so we can… you know… match.” You took the ring out of the box and admired it for a moment. You were about to put it on but he stopped you; “May I do the honors, sweetheart?” he asked. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you nodded and he took it from you. He slipped the ring onto your right ring finger before he kissed your hand. 

“I mean this in the most genuine way possible; this is by far the best gift anyone has ever gotten me, Dean! Ever!”

A sheepish blush was forming on his cheeks as he leaned over and kissed your lips; “I love you so much.” He pulled away so he could look at you; “And, I want you to know this isn’t a regular gift.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile growing. 

“Yeah,” he replied and kissed you again. When he pulled away again he chickened out a little and didn’t say what he was going to. “You’re twenty-one, which means you can now legally drink in all fifty states.” He stood up, pulling on your hand gently so you would follow him to the kitchen. He took two beers out of the fridge and put them on the table. He used the ring on his finger to easily open one then handed the other to you. “Why don’t you give it a try.”

It took you a few tries but you managed to open the beer using the ring he just gave you; “Okay, now that’s awesome!”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Dean said and you clinked your beers together before you both started drinking them. As he brought the bottle down from his lips, he watched as you kept drinking and smiled to himself. He suddenly felt the courage he felt when he bought the ring and decided to tell you his thoughts; “You know you’re the only girl for me, right?” You nodded with a smile. “I don’t just mean ‘for now’ I mean like forever. That’s the real meaning behind the ring, I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

You couldn’t help the happy tears beginning to sting your eyes as you looked up at him; “Forever?”

“Forever.”

* end of flashback *

You were shaken back to cruel reality by the sound of John’s voice beside you; “What’s taking them so long? We’ve gotta get back on the fuckin’ road.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you scoffed and looked at him. “Dean might be in serious trouble, and you’re thinking about the next hunt!?”

“Dean’s gonna be fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“We don’t know that,” you replied. You again started fiddling with the ring Dean had given to you.

“You know that ring doesn’t make you two husband and wife,” John commented. 

You stood up abruptly, not wanting to say what was running through your head; Yeah, and Dean being so fucking perfect doesn’t make you a good father.

“Dean Smith’s next of kin?” the doctor asked. 

“I’m his wife, this is his dad,” you said. “H-How is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” she replied. “He has a very minor concussion from when his head hit the floor, but he just needs some rest.”

“What happened?” John asked. 

“He fainted from over-exhaustion, he’s gonna be okay.”

“Over-exhaustion?” You furrowed your brows, placing a hand over your chest. “B-But he’s been eating fine? A-And sleeping as much as me, I think?”

“Actually,” John interrupted, “he’s been helping me with research at night, he doesn’t sleep as much as you.” 

Never in your life had you wanted to knee John Winchester in the balls as badly as you wanted to at that moment.

“How many hours a night are you sleeping, hun?” the doctor asked you.

“Like three to five… every other night,” you admitted. “And that’s always been enough! If it wasn’t, Dean could’ve just taken a nap he didn’t have to—fuck.”

“Can we see him?” John asked.

“He’s still asleep but yes, you can go and see him,” she replied.

On the way to Dean’s room, you kept wondering how this all happened—how did Dean get so fucking tied he collapsed!? If he was staying up at night, why didn’t he just sleep in the car? You would’ve happily driven Baby, and it’s not like you hadn’t done that before—Dean’s love language was sharing that fucking car.

“This hasn’t ever happened before, right?” you asked John. 

“Never,” he replied. “Guess Dean’s just not as strong as he used to be.”

“Excuse me?” you seethed and stopped in your tracks, pulling John to a halt as well. “Dean is a fucking hero but he is not a machine, he’s a fucking human being who’s been treated like a soldier since he was six-fucking-years-old!”

“If you wanna say something, fucking say it!” John exclaimed. 

“Oh, I am saying it! How fucking dare you work him so hard that he lands in the fucking emergency room!”

“We all know in this line of work, we have to do what we have to do!”

You slapped him hard across the face and your eyes widened when you realized what you did. 

“Dean is your son,” you said, quickly changing your facial expression back into one of pure rage. “He is your fucking child and you’ve been treating him like shit for far too long. He deserves better, he doesn’t deserve to be so fucking exhausted that he collapses.”

You walked away and into Dean’s room. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed made your heart break as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Oh god,” you mumbled. “Dean.” You quickly pulled up a chair so you could sit next to his bed and patiently wait for him to wake up. John did the same, though he seemed annoyed by the fact Dean was still asleep. 

You weren’t sure how long had passed before John got fed up; “Can you press the button for the nurse so we can ask when he’s supposed to wake up?”

“I think we should just let him sleep, don’t you?” you whispered, not knowing if Dean had been sedated or if he was just resting like normal.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I told you to call the damn nurse,” he said, raising his voice which caused Dean to stir awake.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said groggily, his eyes half-hooded as he brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He then dropped your hand and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up. “This isn’t the motel,” he realized. He noticed John sitting at the other side of the bed and he sat up a little, trying to somewhat compose himself. “Wh-What happened?”

“I’ll fill you in,” John said. “Y/n, why don’t you go grab us some coffee so I can talk with my son?”

All your instincts told you not to leave the two Winchesters alone but what choice did you have? You didn’t want to start another fight with John, you were tired too, and you didn’t want Dean worrying.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. You took the time to bend down and place a loving kiss on Dean’s forehead, causing him to smile. “No coffee for you though, you need more sleep,” you told him before you left the room. 

About ten minutes later you walked back in and the sight practically made your eyes bulge out of your skull as your jaw flew open. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked and placed the two cups to the side. 

“Dad said there’s a hunt,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “I can sleep in the car or something, let’s go.” He started to stand up so you pushed him back down. 

“How fucking dare you!” you exclaimed at John, who stood on the other side of the bed. “How dare you tell him to suit up right now! He is staying here in this hospital, and he is getting some goddamn sleep!”

“That is not your decision,” John replied. “If Dean says he’s fine, then he’s fine.”

“You realize those are the exact words you said to me before your son collapsed, right?” you scoffed. “Dean lay back down now,” you told him as you began taking his boots off. “You are staying here for the night, you understand me?”

“Don’t you boss him around!” John exclaimed. “Dean and I are leaving here now.”

“You can leave if you want to, but Dean is staying put!” you replied, matching his tone. 

“No, he is not!” John yelled. 

You’d never fought with John like this, usually yelling and getting yelled at made your eyes tear up in the most inconvenient way. But this? Dean’s health? You were not about to back down. Not one single tear dared to appear in your eyes as you looked at John with such anger you wanted to slap him across the face… again.

“Why don’t we get a third opinion?” you suggested.

“Yeah, Dean, do you wanna sit here like a pussy or do you wanna go save some fucking lives?” John turned to look at him.

“Don’t answer that,” you said quickly. “I meant, let’s call the nurse and see what they have to say about it.”

Before John could protest, you walked over and pressed the button. It took half a minute—during which you and John stared daggers at each other—but soon the nurse walked in.

“How is everyone?” she asked, noticing the tension in the room.

“Do you think this young man here can leave yet? He’s doing fine and wants to go home,” John said. 

“Let me check his chart,” she replied before doing so. “I would have to no, he should definitely stay here and get some much-needed rest.”

“Is there a doctor—” John started but you stopped him.

“Goddamn it John!” you scoffed. “He is not leaving!” 

“You are not his fucking family!” John shouted, much louder than before. “I am! You aren’t his wife, you aren’t his sister, you aren’t his fucking mother—you are just his current girlfriend, and believe me that’ll fucking change in a heartbeat. You are not in charge of what Dean does, you are not family.” There was a short pause as your eyes brimmed with tears yet you refused to let them fall. John sighed and continued; “I am Dean’s father, I know what’s best for him, and I say he’s packing his things and getting the hell outta here.”

The nurse looked absolutely shocked, her jaw hanging open. The look John gave her made her hurry out of the room.

“Dad,” Dean said, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Dad, you can yell at me all you want, I’m your kid but…” He exhaled shakily as John turned to look at him with a frustrated look. “But you can’t talk to her like that, you just can’t. You might not think of her as family but that’s on you, she is a part of my family, Dad. And yeah, we might not be legally married or whatever but she’s not just my current girlfriend? She basically is my wife, we’re not just… dating?” Dean looked at his father with a sense of desperation, John just had to apologize and you could all drop it. Of course, John, being a stubborn bastard, held his ground and crossed his arms authoritatively. “I-If you aren’t gonna take back what you just said to her y-you can go on this next hunt alone.”

“Excuse me?” John scoffed. 

“You heard me,” Dean replied. “She’s everything to me and I can’t sit idly by while you talk to her like that.”

“So you’re talkin’ back to me now? Like Sammy?” John asked. “Refusing to take orders?”

“This isn’t about me, Dad!” Dean said, his face twisted with guilt. “You know I follow any orders you give, that I’m quick to obey. But you saying Y/n isn’t family? I-I’m sorry but I can’t let that slide, Dad.”

John huffed and abruptly left the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said to Dean the moment John was out of earshot.

“Me too.” Dean smiled sadly as you both wiped your eyes quickly.

“Why don’t we get these jeans off of you so you can be more comfortable?” you suggested patting his shin.

His brows shot up; “Really? Here? Now?”

“Dean, no!” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I meant comfortable so you can go to sleep!”

“Oh…yeah, that makes more sense.” His trademark cocky smile was back and that made your own smile return to your now tear-stained face.

“I’m serious about you staying put, you know.” You nodded toward his pants and he got the message. 

“You can be real stubborn, you know that?” he laughed as he hurried and slipped his pants off. You folded them up and put them on the chair along with his belt. He shrugged off his jacket and you tossed it on top of where the pants sat. 

“Get under the covers,” you said. He rolled his eyes playfully but he obliged nonetheless. 

“Happy?” He smiled when he was comfortable in the bed. 

You nodded; “I love you, Dean.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, causing his smile to turn more genuine. 

“Hey,” the doctor interrupted as she walked into the room, “Nurse Roberts just told me about the little outburst… everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, just a little misunderstanding is all,” you replied. “But it’s all settled—Dean’s staying the night.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said with a smile. “I’ve gotta be honest I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, clearly anxious about her statement.

“I just meant that your husband is very healthy,” she assured you; “I’ve never seen a young, healthy man like him just collapse from over-exhaustion.”

“First time for everything I guess,” Dean laughed nervously.

You glared at him; “Not funny, babe.”

“She’s right,” the doctor backed you up. “Now, whatever you’ve been doing recently that caused you to lose this much sleep, get this stressed you need to quit it right here, right now.”

“It’s our job, we can’t just… quit,” you said. “But I will definitely keep a closer eye on him from now on, make sure he’s getting enough sleep.”

“You can’t put this all on her, you understand me, Mr. Smith?” She looked at Dean before he nodded shyly. “Mrs. Smith you need to fix your own sleeping habits as well — if you both don’t smarten up and take better care of yourselves, you will definitely be right back here before the end of the year. You got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. 

“Good.” She nodded. “Now, I’m gonna give you a small dose of a mild sedative to help you fall asleep, alright?” She said as she made her way over to Dean’s IV bag to give him the sedative. “You ripped this out the second you woke up, didn’t you?” She asked him when she realized the needle was no longer in his arm. “You two, I swear!” She started preparing to simply inject Dean with the sedative but you stopped her.

“Is there maybe like a pill equivalent to what you’re giving him? He doesn’t really like needles,” you said. 

“There is, would you prefer that?” she asked Dean, and he nodded vigorously. “Alright, I’ll go and grab that for you then. Mrs. Smith the chair in the corner folds out into a small bed if you two don’t want to share one.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m not tired,” you said. 

She gave you a look; “Seriously? Hun, what did we just talk about?”

“I get that, but I know Dean’s not gonna sleep properly if he doesn’t feel safe.”

“This is a hospital, it’s safe,” she said. 

“Sorry,” you said with a small shrug, and again she sighed.

At that moment, John decided to walk back into the room, making your breath hitch a little before the doctor left to get the meds for Dean. 

“It’s alright, you two get some sleep; I’ll keep watch,” he said as he made his way over to the chair and sat down. 

“You sure, dad? I thought you said there was a job nearby?” Dean asked. 

John looked at you and smiled ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was something you had said to him, maybe John didn’t want you being alone with Dean while he was so weak, or maybe there never was a job and he didn’t have anything better to do than stay with his son. 

For whatever reason, John Winchester sighed and answered; “You’re more important, Dean. Your safety is more important. Now quit whining and get some sleep.”

Dean pulled the covers back, silently asking you to join him in the bed and, of course, you obliged. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting comfortable in his arms.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I love you more,” you replied, making him let out a soft laugh. 

“You always gotta one-up me, huh?” he chuckled. 

“Uh-huh,” you giggled. His arms tightened around your frame as he tucked your head under his chin. John couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for treating not only you but his own son so poorly. Every time John saw Dean be this relaxed and happy, you were always the cause. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

By the time the doctor got back about seven minutes later, you and Dean were both fast asleep; the latter letting out snores that gently moved your hair with each breath. She smiled a little at the sight and decided to duck back out of the room so as not to wake you two.

[pinchofhoney]

Omg Dean Winchester x Reader (platonic) where Dean and Sam are on a hunt and maybe reader was kidnapped??? And when they save her, she just immediately gets attached to Dean? Like she can't leave his side and at first he's really annoyed but eventually gets used to it?

(Sorry for all of my platonic requests I just don't see enough of them 😅)

frozen fear

dean winchester x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

warning: platonic relationship, mild swearing, one description may be disturbing to some readers, comfort

summary: Life has a way of humbling even the bravest, and it's not always a gentle lesson.

a/n: hello!! thank you so much for your request! i had a lot of fun working on it; while planning the plot i felt the same feeling i had when writing my little fiction stories before my disappearance and honestly i missed it a lot!! but, in the middle of writing, i realized that it escaped my attention that you wanted it to be just sam with dean on the hunt, so unfortunately the text i wrote will be a little different from your request:(( i'm so sorry, i hope you enjoy the story anyway!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @one-sweet-gubler @lonelywitchv2

gif is not mine, credit to @/justjensenanddean

You shifted onto your back, letting your tired eyes wander across the shadowy ceiling. The wall clock's relentless ticking concealed the time, but you were certain that sleep should have already claimed you by now. Resting in one of the motel's less-than-cozy beds, nestled near Telluride, Colorado, the room's silence was intermittently shattered by Dean's unrelenting snoring, which was pushing you to the brink of madness.

With a soft sigh, you raised yourself into a seated position, your hands cradling your tired face, a silent battle raging within you to resist the urge to suffocate Dean with a pillow. Your gaze darted to the sleeping Sam, then settled on Dean's back as he lay on his side.

You arrived in town alongside the Winchester brothers, ready to tackle a puzzling string of mountain disappearances. The circumstances surrounding the case remained a mystery to you, with the root cause still shrouded in uncertainty. Although you had your suspicions, you knew there was plenty of work ahead, and the prospect of a sleepless night didn't exactly lift your spirits.

You arched your head back, returning your gaze to the ceiling as another sigh escaped your lips. At last, you shifted your legs over the edge of the bed, rising to your feet. Your hand reached for one of the brothers' jackets, and with a simple motion, you exited the room. You hoped that a quick walk in the cold, fresh night air could make you sleepy. Maybe the wind will whip me into such a state that I'll lose my hearing and finally drift off to sleep, you thought slightly amused, looking for positives in this pathetic situation.

The sun's faint morning rays began to seep through the curtains of the dimly lit motel room. Sam stirred in his bed, his sleep-laden eyes blinking open as he noticed the absence of a familiar presence beside him. He frowned and turned his head, only to find an empty bed where you had been resting just hours before.

Sam sat up abruptly, his heart racing as he scanned the room. Dean, who had been sprawled out in another bed, all this time snoring softly, was now roused by Sam's sudden movement. He blinked blearily, struggling to comprehend the situation.

“Dean!” Sam hissed urgently, his voice tinged with alarm. “Wake up! Y/N's gone!”

Dean sat up sluggishly, not entirely comprehending the commotion. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for alarm. Nobody had forcefully confined you to the room, so it seemed obvious to him that you had simply risen early for a morning stroll.

“Sam, relax,” Dean muttered, not quite grasping the gravity of the situation yet. “Y/N probably stepped out for breakfast or something. She'll be back.”

But as Sam's gaze darted around the room, he noticed something that heightened his unease. “Dean,” he said, his voice tinged with increasing concern, pointing at the empty hook where Dean's jacket should have been hanging.

Dean finally started to stir fully awake, glancing at the vacant hook, and then back at Sam. “Okay, so maybe Y/N took my jacket too. It's not a big deal.”

As Dean spoke, Sam's eyes fell upon something on the nightstand. It was your phone, usually never left behind. He grabbed it and held it up for Dean to see. “Dean, Y/N's phone is here,” Sam said with a sense of growing concern. “She wouldn't have gone anywhere without it.”

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as the realization set in. The absence of both you and your phone suddenly felt more ominous. “Alright, let's not jump to conclusions,” he said, though the unease in his voice was palpable. “We'll wait a little longer, but if she doesn't come back soon, we need to check things out and see if there's anything else strange going on.”

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock served as a relentless reminder of time slipping away

Dean fought to keep his emotions in check, methodically going about his morning routine, from toothbrush to getting dressed. His emotions were simmering beneath the surface, but he was determined not to let them get the best of him.

Meanwhile, Sam perched at the table, your mobile phone resting prominently before him. His gaze remained fixed on the device, a glimmer of hope that you might soon breeze through the room door, bearing coffee and a bagel, filling the space with your familiar presence.

“It's a quarter past eight already,” Sam remarked, his eyes shifting to his brother. He leaned on the table, his fingers anxiously toying with the first signs of stubble on his chin. “We have no idea when she left,” he added with a touch of frustration.

Dean pondered the situation briefly, meeting Sam's gaze before letting out an exasperated huff. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his annoyance clear in his expression and tone.

The mounting tension in the room finally propelled the brothers into action. Dean grabbed his flannel shirt, throwing it on, and Sam slipped your phone into his pocket before they headed toward the motel room door.

“We’ve got to figure out what’s going on,” Sam declared, his voice determined.

Dean nodded in agreement, his jaw set. “I swear I'm gonna fucking kill her if she's just making fun of us.”

As they prepared to leave, Sam hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He glanced back at the room, a glimmer of hope still flickering in his eyes. “Let's leave the door unlocked,” he said quietly, as much to reassure himself as Dean. “Just in case Y/N comes back.”

With that, they stepped out into the brisk morning, making quick strides in the direction of the parked Impala.

You slowly regained consciousness, a disorienting haze clouding your senses. Your body ached with a piercing pain, and a strange, unpleasant feeling gnawed at you. Panic coursed through your veins as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

It was pitch black, and you couldn't see a thing. The air was thick with a noxious stench that seemed to cling to your very skin. Your head throbbed with a dull ache, and you groaned, attempting to move, only to realize that your limbs were bound, and you couldn't feel solid ground beneath you.

Panic turned to terror as your hands met resistance above your head. You strained your neck, struggling to see what lay beyond you. And then, as your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the horrifying truth revealed itself.

You were hanging from the ceiling, head down, alongside two other lifeless bodies. Their forms dangled grotesquely, and it was clear they had been here for some time, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

The realization hit you like a sledgehammer. You were trapped in a Wendigo's cave, your own fate hanging precariously above you. Your heart pounded, and terror coursed through your veins as you fought to remain as still and silent as possible, praying that the creature responsible for this nightmare wouldn't return anytime soon.

As you pored over the Winchester brothers' father's journal, your suspicions honed in on the Wendigo as the likely culprit behind the recent disappearances. Still, you couldn't help but question the accuracy of your deduction. While it was true that the brothers had successfully hunted down one of these creatures before, encountering a Wendigo in Colorado felt like a rare occurrence, far from their usual hunting grounds.

There was no room for doubt now, but finding yourself on the potential victim list hardly allowed you to relish your accurate suspicions.

Your heart raced in your chest, its thunderous beats resonating in your ears like a drumroll of dread. The blood surged to your face, turning it into a stifling mask of heat and anxiety. What made it all the more unbearable was the uncertainty, not knowing how long you'd been hanging there or when the fiendish creature might return to its lair.

Straining your ears, you listened intently for any hint of the creature's reappearance, but the stifling silence held sway.

Then, a faint yet unmistakable sound reached your ears—a distant shuffle, accompanied by muffled voices. Hope surged within you as you recognized the voices. It was Sam and Dean.

Tears welled up in your eyes as their voices drew nearer, and you struggled to rein in the overwhelming rush of relief and joy. Their flashlights cast wavering beams that danced eerily on the cave walls as they advanced cautiously.

“Y/N?” Sam's voice reverberated through the cave, laced with concern.

You managed a weak response, your voice trembling with emotion. “Here!”

Their flashlights swept over you, illuminating your precarious predicament. A mixture of shock and unwavering determination twisted their faces as they took in the horrifying scene before them.

A wave of relief washed over you like a soothing tide as Sam and Dean hurried to your side. Sam swiftly sized up the situation, his nible fingers skillfully working to free you from your bindings. With each passing moment, the suffocating grip of fear and captivity began to loosen its hold.

Dean, standing guard with unwavering vigilance, maintained a watchful eye on the cave's entrance, ensuring that the Wendigo wouldn't return to catch you in a vulnerable moment. His weapon remained poised and ready

As Sam's efforts finally set you free, you were lowered gently to the cave floor. Weak and disoriented, you clung to him, finding solace in the reassuring presence of your friends amidst the foreboding darkness that had held you captive.

With you safely on the cave floor, Sam turned his attention to your well-being, his concern etched on his face. “Y/N, are you okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly, your voice quivering from a mixture of exhaustion and unease. “I think so.”

In response, Dean allowed himself a small sigh of relief, his furrowed brow smoothing out somewhat. He turned his attention back to you, his worry palpable. “Can you fill us in, Y/N? We all went to bed in the motel room, and now you're hanging in this cave. What the heck happened?”

Balancing yourself with Sam's support, you drew in a steadying breath to calm your frazzled nerves. “I don't know, Dean,” you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of fear and frustration. “Your snoring was so deafening that I was on the brink of committing a crime. I had to escape the room for some respite, and then... Then I woke up here, like this, with no idea how I ended up in this nightmare.”

The haunting memory of that heart-stopping moment lingered in the air, causing your eyes to brim with tears once more. It was at this very moment that the full weight of the situation began to sink in—what might have befallen you, the chilling possibility of ending up like the lifeless body you had been hanging beside just moments ago.

As you gazed upon the concerned expressions of the men, the urge to reassure them that you were alright welled up within you. You only needed a little time to collect yourself. However, something beyond their shoulders seized your attention with a grip far stronger.

Your eyes widened in sheer terror, and your heart raced, momentarily clouding your thoughts with a hazy fog of panic. It took you a precious moment to summon the words, but finally, your voice found a way past your constricted vocal cords. “D-Dean!” you exclaimed with a raised voice, your trembling finger pointing emphatically toward the gaping maw of the cave entrance.

Your panicked cry pierced the cave's silence, and the Winchester brothers pivoted toward the cave entrance, their expressions shifting from concern to sheer determination.

Before your eyes, the Wendigo emerged from the shadows, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering light of Sam and Dean's flashlights. The monster snarled, a chilling, otherworldly sound that sent shivers down your spine.

Sam and Dean wasted no time. With a practiced synchronicity born from years of hunting, they unleashed a torrent of fire upon the creature. Flames danced and crackled in the cave's depths, casting unnatural, shifting shadows.

The Wendigo roared in agony as the flames consumed it, its monstrous form writhing in torment. The stench of burning flesh and the creature's wails filled the cave, creating a nightmarish tableau of desperation.

You wanted to do something, to help the Winchesters in some way, but fear paralyzed you. You'd encountered countless demons, monsters, and shapeshifters in the past, but facing this particular breed of creature was an entirely unprecedented experience for you.

As the Wendigo was consumed by the flames, its otherworldly shrieks reached a deafening crescendo before being abruptly silenced. The once-terrifying monster was now nothing more than a pile of smoldering ashes, its threat extinguished by the relentless fire.

Sam and Dean turned to you, their expressions now radiant with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Sam extended a hand toward you, his eyes filled with understanding. “Come on, Y/N, let's get out of here.”

You nodded, your throat still tight with the remnants of fear, and took Sam's hand as he helped you to your feet. Dean followed, his grip firm on your shoulder, offering silent support.

The three of you made your way out of the cave, stepping back into the cool night air of the Colorado woods. The moon cast a pale, comforting glow upon the landscape, a stark contrast to the horrors you had just faced.

As you reached the Impala parked nearby the forest, Dean spoke, his voice tinged with weariness. “We'll head back to the motel, Y/N. You need some rest.”

Sam nodded in agreement as he opened the car door for you. “And a hot shower wouldn't hurt either.”

You climbed into the car, the leather seats offering a welcome comfort. Dean took the driver's seat, and Sam settled in beside you.

The engine roared to life, and as the Impala rumbled down the winding forest road, Sam turned to you with a small, reassuring smile. “You did great back there, Y/N. We've got your back.”

The only source of comfort during this terrible ordeal was Dean's jacket, now worn and stained. It still clung to your shoulders, providing a bit of solace. You folded your arms across your chest, embracing the jacket's familiar warmth as if it was a security blanket. Taking a deep breath, you tried to reassure yourself that the nightmare was over and you were now safe.

Recent events had shattered your belief in your own fearlessness, exposing the simple truth that you had a long way to go before you could match Sam and Dean's hunting prowess. Yet, uncertainty gnawed at you, making you question whether you were truly prepared to reach their level of expertise.

Weeks drifted by, and the memories of the Wendigo's cave continued to haunt your every waking moment. Anxiety had taken root deep within you, coiling around your thoughts like a relentless serpent. To cope, you found solace in staying as close to Dean Winchester as possible, as if his presence alone could shield you from the lingering horrors.

However, this newfound need for constant presence began to grate on Dean's nerves. He valued his personal space and independence, and your persistent closeness was beginning to wear on him.

One evening, as you shadowed his every move in the bunker, Dean couldn't help but voice his frustration. “Y/N,” he began, his tone laced with irritation, “I appreciate you being cautious, but you don't have to be glued to my side every second.”

Your eyes widened, and you stammered a response, “I-I'm just trying to be safe, Dean. You know, in case something happens again.”

Dean sighed, his irritation softening into understanding as he looked at you. He leaned in closer, his voice gentle but firm. “Y/N, I know you're scared, and it's okay to be cautious. But you have to remember, we're hunters. Our lives are filled with risks, and we've faced worse than that Wendigo together.”

He continued, his eyes locking onto yours, “You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you, but you also have to take care of yourself. Being a hunter means facing fear head-on, and sometimes that means standing on your own two feet.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. Dean was right; you couldn't let fear rule your life forever.

With Dean's words echoing in your mind, you began to make a conscious effort to rely on yourself more. There were moments when you found the courage to try out on your own, even if it was just for a short while, to confront the remnants of your fear. Gradually, you felt a glimmer of your old, independent self resurfacing.

But there were still times when the weight of anxiety bore down on you, and in those moments, you sought solace in Dean's presence. You found comfort in his unwavering support and understanding. He noticed your struggles and approached them with patience and acceptance.

Instead of pushing you away when you clung to him, Dean embraced your need for reassurance. He let you lean on him when the anxiety became overwhelming, understanding that healing was a gradual process. Whether it was a reassuring word, a comforting touch, or simply his silent presence, Dean was there for you.

You both found a balance. You were getting better at facing your fears, and Dean was getting better at being there when you needed support.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: More of Y/N's past is revealed. Dean is there to comfort her as he inquires about the parts she never shared. Warnings: Angst, talk of past abuse, child abuse, comfort, coping, understanding trauma, trauma, denial, no GIF sorry!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 1,974

Words mean more at night

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

A back-and-forth motion rubs against my knee but my eyes are down at the carpeted floors. Someone got me to my motel room.

I blink, my eyes tracing the movement to a familiar veiny hand. He’s kneeled in front of me, patiently waiting for me. His motion on my knee doesn’t stop as he smiles at me sadly, “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I answer weakly, watching his face for any changes. Carefully he raises his free hand to my hand, giving me time to back away. He covers my clutched hand, I hadn’t realized I was forming tight fists. He gently pries my fingers open revealing little alcohol packets. That’s the light thing I was handed to clean off the specks of blood…blood from—

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dean says softly, pulling me back to the present. He takes the packets from my hands, opening one carefully but before he moves to do anything he asks, “Can I?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I know I wasn’t supposed to allow him our small touches but that can all be screwed right now. I want a hug and I want to hide under the covers until it all passes, as childish as it sounds. “Words,” he reminds. He had his nailbed-biting habits I had the habit of shutting down and he knew that well enough to try and push me out of it, even if it meant just answering verbally. “Yes, please,” I say just barely above a whisper.

The motion on my knee stops and with that same hand, he reaches up slowly to cradle my head, pushing some of my hair back. He gets closer to my face and with the alcohol pad he lightly rubs off a spec on my cheek, his eyes focused there. I knew what he was thinking, I could see the thoughts and questions swirling in his eyes. “You can ask,” I say, it’s better to get it over now. He doesn’t say anything for a beat as he cleans a couple of spots on my face, “Not my place too,” he answers.

He lets go of me, pushing off the balls of his feet, and standing up, he collects the scraps and walks to the other side of my small motel room to discard them.

I want to sink into myself, “You’re upset with me,” I tell him, knowing I'm right by his body language and just overall behavior. Again he doesn’t answer but I can see the tension in his shoulders and I know he’s holding back. I kick off my shoes, scooting back on the bed until my back hits the headboard. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around me as he fidgets with something on the counter. 

He turns around swiftly but doesn’t move towards me, “Why didn–” he cuts himself off, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

He shakes his head, “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for sweetheart I–”

“You can say it. Let’s just talk about this now, I don’t like it when you’re upset at me,” I admit though I’m sure he already knew. He sighs, looking away, “I’m not upset at you.”

“You aren’t?” I ask, surprised.

“No. I’m mad I didn’t know,” he steps closer until he reaches the bed, “I should’ve known.”

I pat the spot next to me, allowing him to get closer so we could sit comfortably like old times, “We were young,” I reasoned. He takes the spot next to me, the bed dipping as he does, “I have two years on you,” he counters. I roll my eyes, he always tries to play that card. “Well, I was very good at hiding it, had to be. Plus…you heard what I said about B/N.”

He groans, frustrated, his head leaning back on the headboard, “That doesn’t make me feel better. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”

“You had your own things to worry about. We didn’t see each other very often then either, we hung out more after he died and by then it was no longer an issue,” I explain. But he doesn’t respond. “I’m quite resilient you know. Not much can really kill me,” I add, trying to lighten the mood. His head snaps to me, “That doesn’t make it better. You were still…”

“It’s okay,” I say, focusing my eyes on the wall across the room. “It’s not,” he replies, “He died when you were 15, you had 3 years of that.” I’m almost surprised he remembered the exact time like that, though maybe he had been thinking about it and started to calculate. I don’t say anything for I have nothing to say at all, I don’t talk about it and I’ve tried to forget it. “I shoulda known,” he repeats. I turn my head to look at him being met with his side profile, his eyebrows scrunched together and his jaw tense, he was beating himself up over something he couldn’t control. “I didn’t expect you to help me or save me you know, or anyone for that matter. Just hanging out with you and Sammy was enough.”

His jaw seems to twitch, “I saw some bruises before, but you said it was from a hunt you helped your Dad with. You're a lousy liar so I should’ve known.”

“Dean,” I say firmly,  touching his shoulder. He meets my eyes, his green eyes are cold, “Trust me when I say it wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault. It just happened. And it’s over now, has been for a while.”

He swallows roughly, his Addams apple bobbing, and I know he doesn’t believe me, “It’s your Dad’s fault, he’s a prick. Don’t matter if he was grieving or not.”

I frown, remove my hand from his arm, and focus my attention back on the wall. I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, “Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for him…” he says but I don't answer, “You don’t blame him?” he asks confused, leaning forward in an attempt to catch my eyes. I shrug, shrinking further into myself in an attempt to make myself smaller, “I don–I don’t know. He wasn’t always like that…he just….Mom was gone so…” I exhale a shaky breath, “I know it was wrong, that he shouldn’t have been doing that. I know that. It’s not like I forgive him or anything, I mean he hurt my brother—”

“And you,” Dean cuts me off to add.

“Yeah…and I know there are healthier ways of coping, I don’t condone his actions and I couldn’t imagine how anyone could do that to their kids but Mom was gone and…”

“There is no ‘but’ and you know that. Your explanation isn't going anywhere ‘cause there’s no excuse for that,” he interjects firmly. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t feel right to believe or say and I don’t know why. “He was only mean when he was drunk, otherwise he was quiet or gone,” I try to reason but the words feel wrong as they leave my mouth. “Not an excuse,” he counters.

“I know,” I mumble, “But! It started as an accident!” I say looking at Dean, “And it was necessary. He was on a hunt by himself and we knew he would be back soon but it was late so me and B/N made dinner together, we ate and saved some for him. B/N ended up falling asleep early, his football practice totally knocked him out, so I stayed up and waited at the kitchen table to make sure Dad got home okay. When he finally did get home he was very drunk and smelt like alcohol, I helped him and he was babbling about Mom. He pushed me off of him, ‘said he could do it himself so I backed off a little.

Then he was trying to get to the fridge for another beer but I got in his way cause I knew he had too much and should have water instead, he called me some mean names that I don’t wish to repeat. I’m very stubborn so I didn’t move and he hit me, it was just a slap though. But I have this whole defense mechanism and if my body thinks it’s in true danger then my powers will start working to defend me without really my control, and it’s very hard to shut off. So things started to rattle, and a picture frame on the mantel of Mom broke and that really made him upset so he hit me again this time harder and I actually passed out. But that’s okay! cause nothing else broke and I could’ve really hurt someone or if it got too out of control then I could’ve gotten the attention of hunters.”

I stop my rambling of the story, watching Dean’s face to see if he finally understood. But his eyes were filled with so much sadness and his face dropped with sympathy, a frown on his lips. “What?” I ask confused, didn’t he get it now? He doesn’t answer, instead, he wraps his arms around me, bringing me into his chest. I shift my legs so I can hug him back comfortably, but I hold onto his arms more confused than anything. “Wasn’t necessary,” he says, his chin on my head. I open my mouth to say something else, to say he’s wrong but it hits me then. I was being an idiot, a total fool.

If someone told me that story I would feel bad for them and say they didn’t deserve that, they did nothing wrong in the first place. But it wasn’t someone else’s story, it was mine, and somehow that made it different. Right?

It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t, so why do I feel this way? I’m not normally like this. “Wasn’t your fault. You were a kid and you were trying to help, he’s an asshole and shouldn’t have done any of it,” Dean says softly.

Tears run down my cheek. I didn’t like his Dad because he didn’t treat them well so why was I making excuses for my Dad? Was it because of Mom? She loved him so wholly but still would have despised what he became, did he know that? Did that only make him feel worse?

And just because he wasn’t always mean to us doesn’t mean it was okay. Because it was more than being mean, I know that.

I know by morning I’ll be in a better mood. I’ll have a different perspective on things that I won’t understand for a while, I’m self-aware enough to know that too. But it will be okay because things always turn out okay, they always get better. Tomorrow will always be a new day and the sun will shine brighter.

I pull away from Dean just far enough to look at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it was nothin’ against you.”

He gently wipes away a tear falling down my cheek, “Stop apologizing.”

I open my mouth to apologize for apologizing but seeing the issue there I lean my head into his chest again. We stay there silently for a while and I try to focus on the soft rise and fall of his chest instead of my mind. He rubs a hand up and down my back, and my shoulders drop. It’s been a long day with a lot of emotions and I was tired. “He can’t hurt you anymore. ‘Won’t let anyone hurt you,” he whispers just barely audible. But my eyes were fluttering shut, growing heavy so maybe I imagined it and the soft press of his lips to my crown.

Tomorrow will be better, I remind myself.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  HAND OF BLOOD

SUMMARY : “Hey can i request one where the reader is Dean Winchester wife and she just found that she is whatever supernatural creature and him just cuddling with her and help her using her new powers?? something fluff and cute” - anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x powered!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS :  unnamed villain, sam winchester, castiel

WARNINGS/TAGS : fluff, angst, comfort, trauma

WORD COUNT : 1.0k

A/N : bullet for my valentine song title. trying some new ways of writing bc university sucks, anyway, you can imagine the reader to be whatever magical/super-powered being from the show, I didn’t specify x

“Stop holding back, you could… you know… do something for me and I will let you go, alive,” the dark voice of the monster before you made a shiver run up your spine. Your stomach churned nervously, but you gave in anyway.

“Do what?” You sobbed, tugging helplessly at the chains around tour wrist.

You felt a warm breath by your cheek and you inhaled sharply, your body instantly tightened with stress.

“A little bit of magic,” the words brushed against your ear and neck. And you didn’t think you could shiver any harder than you already were, but your body shook with a shudder and your muscles clenched tighter, somehow.

“I can’t do magic,” you whispered with defeat, trying not to cry when a hand squeezed around your throat. “I’m not a witch,” you struggled to breathe through the tight grip.

Whatever the thing was that held you captive, squeezed your throat so tight you could feel your frantic heart beat against its palm. Then, the grip loosened with a frustrated growl, an impatient sound, desperate.

“But you are something,” it insisted through clenched teeth, “something very powerful.”

“I’ve never even… I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you argued weakly. Your body slowly relaxed and you accepted whatever your fate was.

You didn’t bother letting your eyes fall shut, you didn’t bother trying to squint and making something out of your surroundings. The pitch black room revealed nothing to you. All you could smell was dank air and dirt, hear the echo of yours and your captor’s breath against concrete walls and floor. The occasionally clink of the metal that bound you to the floor, the rustle of leaves with the shuffle of feet.

“I don’t have the wrong person. I think you’ve been holding back,” the voice grinned and two hands pressed against either side of your temples. “Why don’t we go back to the biggest hits? To all those times you’ve felt powerless?”

“You know… this doesn’t change the way I see you,” Dean promised, kissing your forehead. He absentmindedly played with a strand of your hair and kissed your cheek when you sniffled.

“I can’t… what if I can’t control it?” You whispered, wiping away tears with your sleeve as they flowed from your eyes with no end in sight.

“Hey, you’re such a control freak, I doubt you’ll let your powers beat you,” Dean grinned in attempts to cheer you up, but you were barely able to muster up a smile. You generally found Dean hilarious, something he knew well enough to find a way to cheer you up easily. Even when you had no idea what he was saying, he always made you laugh. It was always that dorky, boyish grin of his that made you crack up.

Dean shimmied down on the bed so he could face you. He sighed and gave you a weak smile. You were embarrassed of your wet eyes and swollen lips, but you knew Dean wasn’t judging you, and that’s why letting yourself fall apart was always so easy to do when you were with him.

“We’ve gone through worse and we’ve come out pretty damn alright.” His hand landed gently on your flushed, hot cheek. You finally looked into his gentle eyes, through watery vision and sticky lashes he still looked beautiful. “I promise that I will help you in any way that I can, sweetheart. So will, Sam. And so will Cas. We’re a family, you’re not gunna do this alone. Okay?”

Dean waited for you to nod. You almost couldn’t breath with the way he looked at you. With his soft green eyes glowing with determination, and kindness, and empathy. It hurt so much that you just nodded, and buried your face in his chest so that all the emotions in his eyes wouldn’t get to you and make you break down again.

He held you close to him and chuckled softly. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and soothingly rubbed your back while you clung to the warm layers on his body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean gasped out a laugh, hunching over with his hands on his knees. “You’re not dangerous at all, you just suck at this. So… don’t be nervous.”

You glared at Dean as he struggled to breathe and wheezed out another laugh. Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one arm crossed over his firm chest. Even Cas seemed irritated with Dean; he rolled his eyes and let his hands slap against his thighs in defeat, his powers slowly fading.

“This isn’t easy and you’re doing great,” Sam encouraged you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly when he made his way across to you. “Cas, again,” he tipped his head towards you and returned next to Dean to elbow him in his ribs.

Dean squirmed and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, his eyes shimmering with flirtatiousness when they opened back up to you and the glare you sent his way. He wiggled his brows and smacked his tongue above the roof of his mouth, and you couldn’t resist the tiny smile from growing on your face. Or the blush that began to heat up your face, the skipped beat of you once fearful heart, the clench of your stomach. Yup, Dean still had it.

“Try to… um, just don’t hit us… well, you can hit Dean,” Sam snickered, ignoring the glare Dean shot at him. You grinned when Dean glanced back at you and you picked yourself. He sneaked behind Sam to hide from you and the way you unfortunately sucked at using your abilities. Most of your anxiousness disappeared, and Cas smiled reassuringly when he powered up.

You didn’t think things could be any better, all things considered. New powers, new you. But most importantly, your relationship with Dean, Sam, and Cas seemed to get better in the past seven months, like this one bad thing that happened to you didn’t get between you… instead, it wove the four of you together, and squeezed tight like a knitted blanket. Despite the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty of what you were now, you felt warm, safe, and secure. With the people you call your family.

You had Dean to thank for that. And everyone else’s for falling into your life so perfectly.

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