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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You and Sam try something new to help Dean with the Mark of Cain. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!

Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on A03!

“This looks kind of stupid,” you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that don’t sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.

“It’s not just stupid,” Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-“

He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.

“No moving, or you’ll make me have to start over. And none of us,” Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. “Want that.”

“Does it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Can’t we just put him in the shower?“

Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. “That is not how magic works, Samuel. We’re already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.”

“Clean of soul-“

“That wee little bellhop.” Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. “Only dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.”

“What.” Dean’s head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. “What do you mean, her breasts-“

“I mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.” Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. “Men.”

“Who the fuck was looking at her tits-“

“The bellhop, Dearie, keep up-”

“Can you just do the spell, Rowena?” You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. “Now?”

Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.

You bump Sam’s shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.” Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. “Rowena’s the best in the game, and we’re only stretching a few of the ingredients. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of you believe that, but you’re also running out of options. You’ve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean can’t keep killing people. It’s killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and you’re not stupid enough to trust her, but you’re also desperate enough to make a deal with her. She’ll do a spell to make Dean’s bloodlust refocus—make it more about things that make him happy, and less about murder—and you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.

If it works, it’s a win for everyone. Rowena doesn’t get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.

Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. “Hair.”

“What-“

“Hair, lass. The spell needs your hair.”

“Sam’s hair?” You frown. “Or my hair?”

“Preferably, both.”

You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice low—inaudible to Dean—as he mutters, “Why our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-“

“The bellhop is of no significance to Dean’s life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Mark’s corruption,” Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. “Hair.”

Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but you’re a little slower. You’re not someone Dean loves. You’re someone Dean cares about, but you’re not Sam. You don’t belong on the spell’s weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. He’d resisted this, you’d said please, and he’d caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didn’t want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot lately—Sam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through this—and it’s getting exhausting.

But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesn’t work, you can just start over and only use Sam’s hair. He has a lot of it to spare, he’ll be fine.

When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. He’d insisted on wearing his clothing in the pool—jeans, boots, flannel and all—he’s cross-legged in the water, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He still looks good. There’s an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever he’ll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until you’re wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and he’s not a burden, and if this doesn’t work, you’re going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think you’d look up at him under your lashes and he’d see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his hands—big and rough and so carefully skilled—would touch you-

“Be honest with me, Sweetheart.”

His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he won’t notice. “What?”

“Be honest,” he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesn’t look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.

“Yeah, okay. What-“

“This is dumb.”

You huff a soft, dry laugh. “It’s a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.”

“No spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Well, you’re not a witch.” You shrug. “And think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, that’s fun.”

“Bought my ass.”Dean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you and Sam stole this thing.”

“It was like, $40.” You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. “I am not paying that much for some plastic.”

“Even for a spell to save my damned soul?” Dean’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.

“You’re not damned, Dean.”

He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that it’s time to figure out what the Mark wants.

So now, in an old, dusty bar, Dean’s smiling. He hasn’t really, really smiled in a few months, and it’s incredible to see.

It aches a little that he’s smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where he’s leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from movies—he’s told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboy—but there’s a pretty strong chance it’s just Dean. It’s how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.

He’s hasn’t been Dean like that in a while, though. It’s been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but you’ve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean who’s managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when he’s in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. It’s why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why you’re facing the door in the booth—Dean always faces the door—and why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Dean’s smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isn’t you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Your attention turns to Sam—who’s looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcome—and you give him a flat glare. “What am I supposedto say to that.”

“Um, the truth? I think?” Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. “Hey!” He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. “That hurt-“

“Don’t look at him.” You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. “He needs this.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.”

“I don’t…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s weird. I read the spell-“

“Of course you read the spell-“

“Shut up, I always read the spells, it’s safer. And this one,” Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. “This one’s odd.”

“Oh no,” your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. “An odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.”

“This is why I wish you would just talk to him.” Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. “You get mean when things like this happen. And I don’t think it would be as horrible as you’ve decided it would be.”

You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. “That is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.”

He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. “I think that’s the worst case for Dean. You’d win custody.”

“Fair.” You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. “I do have a higher rate of income.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam frowns. “You make exactly what he does. Nothing.”

“Wrong. I’m a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that, we’ll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.” He makes a mock face of disgust. “We’ll die here.”

You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, “kiss ass.”

Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.

You really miss Dean. He’s just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want him—your Dean, the one that’s a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man you’ve ever known—back. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.

You look back to him in the bar—you can’t really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowd—and for a second you could’ve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasn’t because you’re something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now he’s antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowena’s terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.

You’ll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, you’ll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, you’ll just help Dean, and he won’t have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, it’s what you’ve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe he’ll turn his attention to me, and maybe he won’t, but no matter what I’ll have helped Dean.

It’s not like he doesn’t help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But that’s why you want to help.

And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but it’s helping Dean, so you’ll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when he’s better.

——————

Dean is really, really conflicted. It’s ripping him in half, because he knows he’s supposed to be polite to chicks—like the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesn’t deserve to hear—but her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesn’t want her.

Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didn’t feel like it anymore. Dean’s not great with words—he’s great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not words—and even he gets that bloodlust really isn’t the correct word for wanting something in a way that’s clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. It’s still a craving, it’s still insatiable, but it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s driving Dean to things he couldn’t really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so he’d driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didn’t have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.

Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldn’t come back. The not-bloodlust—that wasn’t a good term for it either, he’d need to come up with a better, catchier one later—had tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.

And that’s where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasn’t there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam weren’t any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldn’t keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didn’t deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.

The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyone—Dean wasn’t special—but the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Dean’s body.

That’s what won the conflict. He wouldn’t have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbye—she’d be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and weren’t overtly craving their best friends in the bar—and almost ran back to Her and Sam.

She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. “You’re back.”

“Well done, sweetheart, I am back.” Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.

“Did you, um,” She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. “Did you strike out?”

“Nah, just hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. He’d still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Sam’s voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. “Do you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-“

“Workin’ now. I feel good.” Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.

“Good?”

Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. “Real good,” he says Her name through his mouthful—crumbs falling out of his mouth—and she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He can’t hold it. He’s not even supposed to be talking right now—that was the deal he’d made with himself—so holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and that’s the last thing Dean wants to do. He’s freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.

Dean’s usually really good at making Her smile. He’s proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.

She’s not smiling now. She’s tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.

“You’re good.” She repeats his words slowly, but it doesn’t sound like she believes them. “And you think the spell worked.”

“Did work.” Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. “Don’t think it did, I know it did.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.

“Hey!” Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. “What the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-”

“It’s distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-“

“It did work. I don’t want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-“ He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Look, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.”

Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grin—all teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, I’m not going to kill anyone—but Sam’s attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tired—Dean still needs to make her smile—but she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.

“If he’s really good,” Sam’s pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. They’re a team, he’s allowed to hear this stuff. “We should get back to Kansas tonight. It’s not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-“

“I know,” She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesn’t smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. “Do you want to finish that, or-“

“Gimme three-“

“Chew, Dean.”

He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.

“Holy crap, dude.“ Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. “That was really fast, even for you.”

Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. “Don’t blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.”

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until She’s on her feet and they can follow Sam together.

“Not-bloodlust is a bad name,” She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. “What about, uh, what’s the opposite of blood?”

“Dunno.” Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. “Water? Waterlust?”

That gets him a small, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s my lust.”

“It is.” She meets Dean’s eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like she’s trying to find something on Dean’s face he doesn’t know how to get for her. “And if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.”

“Betterlust?“

“Starts with B,” Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. “Fun to say. Makes sense, too, you’re lusting after better stuff.”

Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good name—better than not-bloodlust—and he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.

“Betterlust it is, Sweetheart.” He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, I’m a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because I’m a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.

End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

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impala-dreamer · 3 months ago

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Everything Has Changed

A Supernatural Story

~Sometimes, the person you fight alongside is also the person you with the most. And sometimes all that fighting is hiding other feelings, other desires...~

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

2,615 Words

Warnings: Frenemies to Lovers. Talk of hunt gone wrong. Mentions of blood. Angsty fighting. Sexy kissing. PG-13. Young, cocky Dean.

Originally Published to Patreon May 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The tension inside of the Impala was just as thick as the mountain fog rolling across the winding country roads. The woods were as dark as Y/N and Dean were silent, neither wanting to speak again for fear of screaming once more.

The day hadn’t been great.

A simple hunt turned a little bloody on the wrong side and Y/N was hiding an almost certainly fractured wrist behind a mask of annoyance and self reliance. Dean was bruised and battered; various shades of red outlined his face from temple to jaw as the blood dried from claw swipes he failed to dodge.

They were a mess, but they were fine.

Physically fine.

Mentally, emotionally- things were rough.

For the better part of a year, Y/N had been teaming up with Dean whenever he called, easily slipping into the passenger seat when the Impala swung by. She was good, but not great. Eager to learn but annoyingly stubborn, often, like that afternoon, ignoring Dean’s warnings.

He shifted in his seat and gripped the wheel tight, his knuckles paling over the old leather. He sighed heavily, loudly, purposefully.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, wary of her wrist. She sneered but refused to look at him.

“Got something else to say?” she growled, prepared to pick up the fight if need be. She’d been rehearsing some biting remarks in her head for the last three and a half miles.

Dean clicked his tongue and set his right arm at twelve and his left hand dropped to his thigh. “No.”

Her neck nearly snapped as she whipped her face to look at him. “Ya sure? You’re a bit huffy over there.”

His jaw twitched. “So, what, now I can’t breathe? Is that a freakin’ crime?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Should be the way you do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“I think you know.”

It meant absolutely nothing, but she had to say something, poke at him more.

“Ya know…” He took a breath and then shook his head, ignoring the impulse to explode. “Nah. Forget it.”

Y/N was enlivened, pulse rapid and eyes focused. “No, no, go on. Tell me more of what I don’t know, Dean.”

The way she enunciated each letter of his name made him shiver. It was hidden hatred shooting from her lips like poisoned darts to stab him in the chest.

He swallowed hard and scratched at his cheek. A cut reopened and his fingernail came back tinged in red. He rubbed it off on his jeans.

“You’re just- You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days and I won’t be around to jump in front of the bullet again.”

Y/N cocked a brow, shocked and enraged. “Seriously? Again with this?” She let out a curt laugh and turned away again, staring out of the side window. “You are so fucking sexist.”

Dean gasped. “Excuse me? Sexist?”

“Yeah. Sexist. You think because I’m a woman I can’t take care of myself. That I need a big, strong man in flannel to come save me everytime we’re in the weeds. Well, guess what, fucko- I can handle myself just fi-”

As Y/N ranted, her voice rising in volume with every word, a shadow passed in front of the car and Dean slammed hard on the brakes. The headlights barely helped guide them through the thick fog and he panicked, throwing his right arm out across the car. His hand landed on Y/N’s chest and he pushed her back against the seat, barring her from the force of the sudden stop.

The tires screeched, gravel hit the undercarriage.

Y/N’s breath stopped as her back hit the leather seat.

Dean’s heart was racing, his body tense and damp with sweat. His eyes were wide and he stared out at a giant buck who stared right back, black eyes unblinking and unconcerned about how close to death he just was.

“What the… fuck…” Y/N gawked at the deer and then Dean and then down at his hand that was still quite stuck against her chest. “What the fuck?” She swatted at his hand and he pulled it back, clutching it to his own chest. “What the fuck!”

Dean shook himself and ran a hand down his face before gesturing at the deer. “He just- out of fucking nowhere. I-” He took a deep breath and watched the deer finally move from the road and disappear into the trees. “Wow. Are you OK?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I… I think so. Yeah.” She rubbed at her wrist and winced. “Let’s just get to the motel, please.”

Dean grabbed the wheel at ten and two and steadied himself. “Good plan.”

The motel room was quiet; dark. They hadn’t even left a lamp on before they’d left that morning, so Y/N stepped into utter blackness. Not even the broken, blinking neon vacancy sign outside the window could permeate the thick curtains, and she nearly tripped over Dean’s discarded dirty jeans.

“Son of a cu-”

He came in slowly behind, shutting the door behind him and flipping the light switch. “You OK?”

The lights flooded her eyes and she groaned, lifting a hand to shield her eyes as she very dramatically stepped over his pants.

“Yeah, sure. Just trying not to get myself killed tripping over your damned jeans.”

His sigh was deep and he threw the deadbolt as if he were wishing it death. “Are we gonna do this all night?”

Y/N grit her teeth and tugged off her jacket, refusing to turn to look at him. “Do what?”

“Fight.”

He sounded sad suddenly and the pain in his voice made her pause. She held her breath, thinking, deciding if a fight was what she truly wanted. It wasn’t, but she couldn’t admit that even to herself, let alone say it out loud- to him.

“Yeah.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Yeah. I wanna fight all night. Because I have nothing better to do. Like wash this blood off of me or close my eyes for five seconds or stitch up that gash on your throat. Or-” She turned and her eyes landed on his throat. Her stomach tightened at the thought of laying her fingers there, of feeling his pulse beneath her hands. “So yeah, let’s fight.” She let the sarcasm out like a lion and Dean flinched.

He licked his lips slowly and shrugged his coat off, tossing the oversized leather onto the sofa. He bowed his head and sighed again. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

She held her ground, arms tight around her middle as he looked up at her, green eyes shaded by thick lashes. He bit his lip, holding in a frown, keeping his face steady.

“I never wanna fight with you, Y/N/N,” he said softly.

“Sure got a funny way of showing it,” she grit. “Yelling at me constantly.”

His shoulders tensed up. “I don’t- yell at you constantly. Just when you’re doing something stupid.”

Y/N threw her hands up and spun away. “There it is! Dean Winchester calling me stupid again.”

“I didn’t call you stupid! I said you do stupid things.”

Her lip twitched. “What’s the difference?”

He hissed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and intense. “There’s a big difference.”

The air sizzled between them and Y/N gave up. She rolled her eyes and turned away, heading for the bathroom.

“Ya know what? Fuck this. I’m taking a shower. You can sit in your filth for a while.”

Dean scoffed, done. “Fine. Good. Go.”

She took a step and then turned back, fist clenched and unfair rage boiling in her gut.

“No. I’m not done. While we’re at it-”

Trying to ignore her, Dean bent at the waist and untied his boots. “What? Wanna tell me how sexist I am again?”

She reared up, standing as tall as she could and still not casting a shadow near him. “Kinda. But since you mention it- What the hell was that back in the car?”

He stood, confused. “What was what?”

“Trying to cop a feel?” She gestured to her chest and raised a brow.

Dean laughed, disgusted at her accusation. “You idiot.” He waved her off and turned, sitting down to yank his boots off. “I was trying to keep you safe. That’s all I ever do anymore. Keep you safe!”

She clicked her tongue and sneered at him. “I can handle myself, you dick.”

His boots thudded on the bare carpet and he shook his head. “No. I don’t mean- I didn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself, I just mean-”

She didn’t let him finish, stepping closer and letting her voice grow. “What? Keep digging the hole deeper, Dean. Go on!”

He floundered. “I mean I… I’m just- I don’t want you to get hurt. OK?” He stood, unable to reason with her or himself. “Is that enough for you? Is that what you want to hear?” He ran his hand down his face, exhausted and hurting. “I’m scared you’ll get hurt or get yourself dead and then where will I be?”

She softened, but the fight was still tingling inside of her. “What would you care?” she spat.

He stalked towards her, fingers twitching at his sides; his annoyance with her at its peak. “Oh, I’d care, Y/N/N.” He stopped when his toes hit hers and he stared down, done with fighting, verbally and otherwise. “I’d really fucking care.”

The gentleness of his confession and the heat pushing off of him made her shiver.

She looked up, confused and a little scared. “You’re being weird.”

He laughed under his breath and lifted his hand, letting it hover over her cheek. “And you’re being a fucking… clueless… idiot.”

He leaned in and kissed her, exhaling hard against her lips, cradling her face in his big hand. The shock of it all closed her eyes and she held her breath, struggling to process. When he was done, he backed up an inch and looked down with a proud smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”

She breathed again, taking in the scent of him, the heat, the desire. Her body ached but she refused to give in, confusion and self-doubt swirling in her head.

She tugged away from his touch. “Holy shit! You can’t just-”

He licked her taste from his lips. “You didn’t like it?”

Her stomach flipped and her heart pounded in her ears. “I mean, I did, but you can’t just- kiss someone like that!”

“So… I can’t do it again?”

His grin was devastating and she fought the smart voice in her head and dove into the stupid. She tugged on his collar and leaned against him.

“You better fucking do it again…”

This time, she breathed with him and he licked into her mouth with tentative curiosity. He tasted like the pile of onions he’d stacked on his burger at dinner, but in a strangely good way. Onions and whiskey and stale smoke. It should have been disgusting but on him it was special. It was Dean. He was kissing her. He was caressing her shoulders, dragging a hand slowly down her spine.

She broke away to breathe, a little dizzy, a little warm. “What the fuck are we doing?”

He dropped a kiss to the side of her mouth and his left hand fell to her ass. “Something we should have done forever ago.”

Y/N slid her hand from his collar down his chest, marveling at the tightness of his ribs and the softness of his belly.

His fingers curled at the nape of her neck and he tugged her closer as he hummed into her mouth.

She trembled, hooked a finger into his belt loop. “This is insane.”

“Is it?” He smirked and trailed his kiss down her jaw, stopping every other inch to enjoy her delicate skin. “I’ve been fucking dreaming of this. Of you.”

“Really?” Her head fell back as he licked at the dip of her throat. “I thought you hated me.”

“Could never hate you,” he whispered; teeth scraping her flesh. “Every time you get into a mess I go crazy. Don’t wanna lose you.”

She pushed at his chest and made him stop and look down at her. She bit her lip and blinked to clear her head.

“You never had me to lose, Dean.” She batted her lashes and jutted her hips forward just enough to make his eyes flutter.

He wrapped his arms tight around her and grinned. “Pretty sure I always did.” He kissed her again, shutting her up and leaning over her. She dipped backwards, clawing at his shoulders for fear of falling. “And if I didn’t…” He pecked her lips and let her go, leaving her cold and starving for him. “I do now.”

He walked away as if nothing happened, turning away from her and moving towards the bed. He shed his flannel and tugged his belt from its buckle.

“You’re a real asshole,” she whispered, mouth dry and thirsty for him. She spun to watch him, wondering what his game was.

He tugged his zipper down and let his jeans fall to the floor. “Am I though?”

She tried to think about it, to think about anything but the thick thigh muscles appearing beneath his boxers. “Um… Yes?”

“Not so sure anymore are ya?”

With one hand over his head, he tugged his tee shirt off and balled it up, tossing it into the bathroom. Her mind went blank for a long minute as she stared. He was cut up and caked in blood, but beautiful. She chewed her lip.

“Not so sure,” she admitted. “I think…”

His fingers teased at the hem of his shorts and he turned his right ear towards her, waiting. “You think what?”

Her mouth flooded as he inched the boxers down.

“I think…uh…”

Dean bent at the waist and yanked the thin fabric away. When he stood, he found her staring and his cheeks burst with heat.

“Tell ya what,” he said, stepping out of the shorts and toeing off his socks in the same movement. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. You can stay out here and keep thinking or-” He licked his lips and her thighs clenched. “You can join me.”

He disappeared into the shadow of the bathroom and Y/N stood staring at the place he’d left, her mind flipping over the last few minutes.

She heard the light flip on, the squeaky taps turn, the water start to rush onto the tiles.

The curtain shifted and steam appeared, billowing out into the room.

She was still thrumming from his kiss, burning from his touch, but her thoughts were a jumbled mess. If she went in there, she was gonna let him kiss her again. She was going to let him touch her, strip her clothes off, run his hands and eyes over her naked body. If she went into that bathroom, she was going to fuck Dean Winchester, the boy she’d been fighting with forever, the man who continually stepped in to save her ass from disaster. The annoying asshole with the perfect smile and cocky brow. The boy in the oversized leather coat and jeans ripped at the knees and a knife in every pocket. The hero she’d wanted since the first time they’d met.

Everything was going to change.

“You comin’?”

His voice startled her from her thoughts and Y/N sighed.

She kicked off her shoes and took a leap, walking into the steam and his waiting arms.

if you enjoy, please let me know! Feedback goes farther than you think, and reblogs are love

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

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uzubebe · 1 year ago

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purgatory

type: one shot

pairings: dean winchester x fem!reader (mutual pining, friends to lovers?), sam winchester x fem!reader (estranged besties)

disclaimer: i don’t write often, but i’ve been rewatching supernatural and i have so many idea. this may not be the best, but just some self indulgence. i love sammy with my whole heart but he needed to be told off ok.

summary: the dick was dead. dean and cas were gone. and you didn’t rest a wink while searching for them. unfortunately it turns out dean wasn’t the only one sam abandoned that year.

“cmon there has the be something” you sighed, aimlessly scrolling through 14 open tabs on your laptop and a pile of messy papers scattered across the motel table. you slammed your hands on the table in frustration, letting out a shaky breath and gripping your fists tight.

it had been a year. an entire year without dean winchester. the second he vanished you had delved into aimless research in a desperate attempt to find him. you had to busy yourself, because thinking about his absence for too long caused an indescribable pain to open up in your chest.

you had only broken down three times in your year long search, which you figured was a record for someone going through what you were. you’d spent countless nights crying yourself into restless sleep, sleep filled with dreams and nightmares about the eldest winchester.

you crammed your hands to your tired eyes in a hurry, shaking your head vigorously in an attempt to wake yourself. you had to focus because you sure as hell knew sam wasn’t doing anything about it.

after deans disappearance sam explained that he needed time and space, which you understood. you cared for him just as much as you cared for his eldest brother. he had been your best friend for as long as you could remeber. and this was his brother, someone he didn’t want to learn how to live without.

you didn’t realize that time and space meant him also disappearing for an entire year with zero contact. you tried to understand him in the beginning, tried to rationalize why he would leave with no warning or explanation, because there had to be one right ? after four months you decided he wasn’t coming back and it was your job to find his brother.

you felt tears well in the corners on your eyes, inhaling a sharp breath and stretching your arms to regain your composure, gearing up for more research instead of dwelling on the loneliness.

you were pulled from your thoughts as your phone began vibrating vigorously from your bag. you quickly pulled yourself from the chair, feeling your body creak, this year had aged you in more ways than one.

you pulled your phone from the bag and froze. you narrowed your eyes, studying the caller id in absolute astonishment.

dean winchester.

you scoffed in disbelief, settling on the first emotion that bumbled up your throat, anger. you quickly hit the answer button.

“listen, i don’t know who the fuck this is. but lose this fucking number, i don’t have time for prank-“ you started spitting vigorously into the phone, being cut off at the gruff laugh that echoed through the speaker.

“…dean?” you whispered. it couldn’t be. how was he calling you?

“yeah, y/n. it’s me” he said softly, this time the tears came pouring out without warning, you let out a sad sob mixed with some kind of laugh.

“where are you? please tell me where you are.” you begged, he quickly gave you his address and within second you were tumbling into your car and speeding to him.

once arriving you let out a sigh, mentally preparing yourself for something you had been longing for for the last year. after 2-3 seconds of this you decided you couldn’t wait a second longer. you barreled out of the car and began your search for their motel room, suddenly turning into an olympic runner as you looked at each room number. you breath hitched in your chest as you finally arrived in front of the door. you knocked briefly before swiftly barreling into the room. nothing could’ve stopped you from getting inside that room, and there was no time for pleasantries and manners.

“dean!?” you screeched, scanning the room. your eyes landed on him as he stood from the motel bed to greet you, a sense of overwhelming relief washed over you as you ran to him.

within second you were in his arm, tears flooding your eyes as you buried your head into his chest. you felt an arm tighten around you waist, as he cradled the back of your head with his free hand.

“shh, it’s okay y/n. i’m here. i’ve got you.” he whispered, trying to calm you from the heartbreaking sobs escaping your chest. you gripped the back of his shirt, pulling him as close as you could, fearing that if you let go he may disappear once again. after what felt like hours and finally realizing that this was real, you slowly pulled for him allowing him a minute to truly study your appearance.

you looked exhausted. your hair that had been previously above your shoulders now hanging loosely below your shoulder blades, tangled and messy. the bags under your eyes had grown, and you looked like you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in ages.

“y/n…what happened? are you okay?” he asked, concern flooding into his pretty green eyes. you let out a laugh and wiped your nose. you moved from him slightly, opting to grip one of his hands to keep yourself grounded.

“uh..you happened. i’ve been looking in every nook and cranny in this god forsaken country trying to find you.” you explained, sending him a melancholy smile. he studied you, pulling you to him and setting a soft kiss to your forehead.

“thank you. i’m sorry. i wish i could’ve been here.” he whispered, setting his forehead to yours. you closed your eyes, smiling softly.

“you’re here now.” you realized, letting out a breath that it felt like you had been holding for the past year. it felt like you had been suffocating all this time, and seeing him finally allowed you to breath properly again. you were basking in this feeling, inhaling the fresh oxygen that would only be provided by the presence of dean winchester.

you were trapped in your thoughts, that was until you heard a slight cough from behind dean, interrupting your moment.

“if you’re going to say something. don’t.” you demanded moving from dean, and seeing his younger brother sitting awkwardly on the bed behind him.

“listen-“ sam began, but you quickly cut him on, shaking your head as you moved further into his view.

“no sam. i don’t have to listen. you left. crowley told you that you were on your own and you just took his fucking word and ran with it. i was here. i was here the entire time and you just left ! so you don’t get to tell me to “listen.” not when i spent the last year destroying myself to find your brother, while you went off and got a fucking dog.” you spat, sam straightened up slightly, fidgeting with his hands. you were shaking uncontrollably, the prior moment of bliss was being overpowered by the rage and loneliness you had kept locked up throughout the last year.

“how do you…?” he asked, trailing off as he tried to gain the courage to meet your eyes again. you let out a cynical laugh, balling your hands into a tight fist.

“yeah. i looked for you. i was concerned. i needed to make sure you were okay. but you’ll never guess what i found. to my pleasant surprise i saw you playing house with a pretty brunette and friendly little dog. so you’ll have to give me a lot more than a sob story about how you couldn’t handle dean being gone for me to ever forgive you.” you said, moving closer to sam. he hadn’t ever seen you this way, so angry. he had to admit he was slightly unnerved and almost scared.

“because you know who else couldn’t handle it ? me. but i didn’t just lose dean, i lost you too. i called you daily for weeks, desperate for some kind of explanation. i was going out of my mind, alone in dingy motel rooms without the two people i needed most. and then, after a few months, i couldn’t even get your voicemail, just an automated voice telling me i was desperately trying to reach a disconnected number.” you were seething. you felt like every vessel pumping your blood was boiling, your raging heartbeat pounding in your ears, you thought you might pass out.

“so i don’t want to hear about how there was “a girl.” because there was a girl here the whole goddamn time. a girl who had been by your side for years. and you. still. left.” you continued, sam found himself staring at the floor, studying its pattern, because he couldn’t take the look of absolute betrayal that consumed your eyes.

“and guess what ? i didn’t get the fairytale year you had. because my person, the one i wanted to be with. the one i wanted to settle down and get a fucking dog with, was gone!” sam flinched at your tone. by the end of it, you found yourself screaming, throat feeling hoarse as you finally took a breath.

you calmed instantly as you felt deans hand reach for yours. you inhaled a deep breath and turned to him. not even realizing you had practically confessed to the years of pent of feelings you had for the man.

“y/n. i understand. really, i’m upset too. angry even. but let’s take a breather, yeah? you need a good meal, and an even better nap. why don’t we get out of here, give each other some space, regroup later?” dean suggested. you hadn’t noticed his watery eyes and unsteady voice. he was brought almost to tears at the state you were in, at what his absence had caused. you nodded slowly moving closer to him. sam slowly stood up.

“just call me when you guys are ready. y/n…i’m sorry. i really am.” he whispered, you didn’t turn around to look at him. you knew yourself well enough to know that those puppy dog eyes would make you feel insurmountable guilt, they always had. but you didn’t regret what you had said, it was the truth. and right now, you weren’t sure what could help you forgive your former best friend.

dean gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. he looked back to sam and sent him a sad smile as he led you out of the motel room.

he stopped and turned to you once the door clicked shut. he studied you, narrowing his eyes as you suddenly became incredibly fascinated with the small rock next to your left foot. you forgot what it felt like to have him watching you so intensely.

“where were you?” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze, relief washing over you instantly, he was here. he was real.

“uh…purgatory. guess standing to close to dick when he died gave me a one way ticket to his afterlife.” dean explained, you scoffed slightly, mentally punching yourself at the realization.

“fucking purgatory. of course. i should’ve figured that out. god.” you cursed yourself, how could you have been so stupid ? of course he was in fucking purgatory. dean picked up on the fact that you were internally blaming yourself for his disappearance and immediately took action.

“hey. hey.” he whispered, settings his hands on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him. he bent down to your level, a stern look on his face.

“do not, for one second, blame yourself. none of this was your fault, and you’ve done more than i could’ve ever anticipated. i know it was a hard, even excruciating year, but i’m here now. and i’m not going anywhere.” dean insisted, you studied the look in his eyes. it was one you hadn’t seen from him before, or maybe it had been so long that you just needed to re-educate yourself on his mannerisms.

“okay. thank you.” you whispered, setting one of your hands atop his. he scoffed slightly at you thanking him, when they should’ve all been thanking you.

“cmon, let’s get you something to eat sweetheart.” dean smiled, moving to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and walking you towards the car. you nuzzled into his side, wrapping your arms instinctively around his waist.

“think i made sam cry.” you scoffed slightly, replaying the intense speech you shoved down sam’s throat.

“yeah well i’m thinking maybe he needed to hear it.” dean stated, you let out a sigh and nodded.

“and for the record, i would’ve really liked it. settling down and getting a dog with you. i wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else.” dean declared, setting his lips to the top of your head, feeling him slightly smile into your hair. you’re smile grew, it felt like your heart was finally beating normally again. you dug your head further into his side in embarrassment.

“well i guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” you whispered, giving deans waist a reassuring squeeze.

“great plan, so we thinking doberman? golden retriever? maybe something small like a chihuahua or something?” dean joked, pulled you tighter into his chest with a laugh.

“shut up” you giggled, punching his chest playfully, sending him a big grin as he continued to chuckle. and since being back, dean felt okay again, at least for that moment. cause the two of you were together once again, and he had the ability to make you smile like that. he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #pov #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #friends to lovers #supernatural fic #fanfic

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lightdancingwords · 10 days ago

Text

One Day - Part One of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 4,556

Tags/Warnings: Violence, profanity, murder/death/kill, angst, arguments, slaps, mention of torture, monsters/supernatural

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! This story is AU as it does veer a bit from the history we see in Season 1 of Supernatural. There will be references to episodes and seasons, but it'll change as the chapters come. Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter One: The First Time

Dean was in a mood. Sam had just left for Stanford—and God, that was one Hell of a fight to break up between his brother and John—and his father…. Well, John had been trusting Dean to go on hunts by himself for a while now. Like a good little soldier, doing what daddy said.

After Sam left, John just muttered about how he had a job to do and he had damned well go do it. So… Dean hopped into the Impala and started looking for newspapers to track down the next monster to hunt.

There was a hint of something—a missing person’s case—that didn’t sit right with Dean. He made some phone calls, impersonated an official or two, the usual—and off he went to a cozy little city in Indiana, home of Purdue University.

Go Boilers! Right?

Ugh.

Not that it hurt to see all the hot chicks. Man, college girls….

His missing person’s case was, unfortunately for his libido, not one of the Sororities. He wished it was. He knew pornos weren’t accurate, but wouldn’t it have been nice if they were?

God. He needed to get laid.

He yanked his attention back to the missing person’s case, and realized that while he was driving, investigating, and basically from the date of the first case, three more had gone missing. The monster, whatever it was, was being systematic.

Every single one of the missing persons came from the same floor as this one off-campus apartment complex. If you could call a whacked up house divided into four individual studios an apartment complex.

He tracked down the very last person from that complex, a pretty teenage girl, fresh to college named Y/N.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, trying very hard to stay focused on the hunt and not flirt with her. “You don’t know why the others have gone missing?”

“That’s right,” she said, regarding this ridiculously young looking man dubiously. He didn’t dress like an investigator nor did he act like one.

“Did you know them well?”

She shook her head, fidgeting on the sofa. In the course of two weeks, four people in the building had gone missing. She was the last one left and was, quite honestly, freaking out.

Four studio apartments, four people. Two of them had just moved in together. She was, literally, the last one standing.

“Any weird people hanging around? Repair folks? Maintenance guys? Anything?”

She shook her head again. “No. The only person that came around in the last month was the landlord.”

“Oh yeah? Why’d he come around?”

She let out a sigh. “I really wish I knew. Just something about annual inspection, but we just moved in like… two months ago, right when the semester started.”

“Really? Huh.” That was a potential clue for Dean. He wasn’t sure why the monster would wait almost two months, but maybe there was something related.

“All right, well, if you think of anything, please let me know, okay?”

“I,.. yeah, I will.”

Dean took one look at her and knew she wasn’t going to. He had the feeling she was suspicious about him, but that was nothing new. He just really, really wished he could ask her out for some drinks and then—

God. He really needed to get laid.

She escorted him to the door and shut it firmly behind him. He had a few options, none of them easy. He debated tracking down where the previous missing persons were last seen, but that meant leaving Y/N unguarded. If Sam hadn’t been an idiot, he could’ve done the investigating while Dean played bodyguard.

In the end, Dean parked the Impala out of sight of the apartment complex while giving him sufficient view to keep Y/N safe. And waited.

It took hours. Painfully long hours. Dean was going insane at the wait. But his patience—pfft, what patience?—was rewarded. He saw something, someone, lurking about the complex. He sat up, squinted in the dim lighting.

Oh yeah, there was definitely something there. He grabbed his gun with one hand and the flashlight in the other, and went running.

The drawback of having to park far was that by the time he reached the building, the thing broke into Y/N’s apartment. Broken glass and wood splinters was everywhere, and he cursed up a storm.

Just as he burst through the shattered doorway, he heard Y/N screaming. Without a thought, Dean jumped over the overturned coffee table and saw it—them.

She was actually pushing the monster back, punching and kicking, which won a glint of Dean’s respect, and he got a good view of it: vampire, from the looks of the fangs.

“Hey, ugly!”

The vampire—God, those fangs were nothing like those from movies—turned to see Dean and snarled. It grabbed the girl, shit, and all but flung her into Dean,

Unwilling to let her crash into the coffee table, Dean caught her and went limp as they went down. More wood shattered and he grunted while she cried out, more out of fear than actual injury, he’d wager.

Normally Dean would be all about having a girl on top—maybe even quip that joke—but he had the wind knocked out of him. Just as he tried to shove the girl out of his arms, he saw the vampire leave with a hiss, running out the door.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambled to his feet and rushed out the door.

Too late.

It was gone.

“Dammit!” His back was aching, his lungs were sore, and he had nothing to pay for it. With more profanities under his breath, he came back inside the apartment.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, going over to the girl to help her get up.

“No, I’m not okay! What the hell was that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

“Try me,” she said, dusting off her rear. God, what a nice ass.

“All right. It’s a vampire.”

She froze, and stared at Dean. “Excuse me?”

He grinned lopsidedly. “Told ya you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Vampires aren’t real,” she insisted, ignoring the trembling of her hands. Vampires might not be real, but she also knew what she saw: some man with what looked to be monstrous teeth.

“Then explain what you just saw,” he challenged. He marveled at her composure. Not many would be this calm after having had their home broken into and being nearly fed on.

“I…” She stopped. She couldn’t. Not really.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Dean raked his fingers through his hair and let out a breath. “Listen. It isn’t safe to stay here.”

She glanced at Dean, then deliberately looked over at her busted front door. “No shit, Sherlock.”

He grinned. She had fire. He liked that. “You got any place to stay?” he asked, wildly tempted to offer her a motel room and then share it with her.

“N-no…” She bit her lip. “Nothing local. I’m from California.”

He paused and arched a brow. “No kidding’? Why’d you come here?”

“Veterinary school. One of the best and I wanted to get out of the state for a bit.” She paused, then shook her head. “Real smart of me.”

Dean actually felt bad for her. No doubt she wanted to experience a bit of the country, get out of her hometown, and just do the usual college kid thing to do. Instead, her neighbors go missing and she was attacked in her apartment. What a life.

“Okay, well… can you stay at a motel?” he asked.

“I don’t have any money,” she said ruefully. “I can’t…” God, she doubted the landlord had a spare door even if she called him about the break-in. It’d take time, and it wouldn’t be safe.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean insisted. “It’s on me.”

“I am not having sex with you,” she said.

She was so blunt Dean actually did a double-take and laughed. “I wasn’t even going there,” he said with a wry grin. “Look. I’m a hunter, okay? I hunt the supernatural. I’m just helping out here, okay?”

She frowned, wary. He did save her, she had to admit. Could have left her there and chased it down. Even left her to deal with a broken door, the late night police call, everything, all on her own.

“I… o-okay. Can I grab some stuff first?”

“Yeah, go do that. I’ll call the police for you so you got it on file, okay?” That way the landlord’s insurance would cover damages, get her door replaced.

It took an hour, some manipulation of the truth, and then Dean and Y/N were heading to the nearest Motel 6. He ended up having to take her in his car as she didn’t have one. She walked to the college or took the bus, which was why she lived so close by the university.

It felt awkward and weird to ask for two rooms—she insisted, as she wasn’t comfortable sharing a room with a total stranger—but Dean was willing to roll with it. Just chalked it up to a weird case all around.

He was yanking off his boots when he heard a knock at the door. Puzzled, he peered through the peephole and saw her outside his door. He’d be damned lucky if she wanted sex after all. Celebration of life and all that crap.

He was crestfallen a moment later when he opened the door.

“What did you mean, you hunt monsters?”

Damn pornos and their fake stories. He stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. “Just what I said. I hunt monsters.”

“But… monsters aren’t real,” she insisted. For a moment she seemed small and vulnerable. Dean felt an inkling of compassion, wanted to comfort her. He held back, shoved his hands in his coat pockets.

“I know it’s easier to believe that, but they’re real. Vampires, werewolves, Wendigo, ghosts, all that crap.”

“I-if they were real, why isn’t it common knowledge? Why hasn’t the government done anything about them?”

She was trying hard to logic her way through it. Determined chick. “Well, regarding common knowledge… people like to believe that the world isn’t that bad. That there aren’t monsters that go bump in the night. It’s easier to believe they hallucinated and forget it ever happened.”

She regarded Dean dubiously. “And the government?”

“Now that I can’t tell ya. I don’t know. I never met a Man in Black so I’d have to guess they’re a little busy dealing with other shit.” He scratched at his chin.

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was more than a little freaked out. She wasn’t sure how to reconcile what happened, what she saw.

“How do… what am I supposed to do?” She sank down at the edge of the motel bed, wrapped her arms around herself.

“What do you mean?” He joined her on the bed, maintained a polite distance between them. God she smelled good. Like white jasmine.

“I just can’t go back to class pretending I never saw a vampire,” she said, her brows drawn. “Or that my neighbors weren’t attacked and eaten by them.”

Dean cleared his throat, uncertain how to approach her situation. He rarely bothered talking to one of the potential victims this long before. Other hunts he just tracked down and killed, leaving the authorities to deal with the mess. It wasn’t as if John walked him through this shit.

“Well, uh, I guess it’s up to you,” he said honestly. “I’m gonna find this vamp and take it down. That should solve the problem.”

“For this one, sure,” she said, and glanced at Dean. “But what about next time? I mean, you said ghosts?”

“Yep. Unhappy spirits. Demons. You name it, we’ve dealt with them.”

“I don’t…” she trailed off. She looked so lost, Dean felt it in his heart. He had a rather good idea of how she felt, given his exposure to the supernatural at a tender young age.

Ever since Mary died, ever since he saw his mother burning on the ceiling and his father tasking him to keep Sam safe, Dean’s innocence had been lost. He became cynical at a very young age. To him, life was hunting monsters and keeping Sam safe.

Sam was gone now. All that was left was the hunt.

“Take some time to think on it, Y/N,” he said at last, knowing it was awful advice but he had nothing else to offer.

“But I have class tomorrow. How am I supposed to act?”

He bit his lower lip. “Maybe don’t go. We don’t know why this vampire was targeting you and your neighbors.”

“Miss class? Are you insane?”

“What? It’s just class,” he scoffed.

She stared at him. “You’ve never been to college, have you?”

“Nope.” His cocky grin spoke volumes. “Kinda wish I had though. College chicks are hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “College is expensive. Me getting a scholarship to pay for my tuition was a miracle. I can’t afford to fail.”

“Well, it’s not safe for you to go until I catch that vampire,” he argued. God, this chick was stubborn.

Her expression hardened. “I’m not missing class, Dean.”

She won the argument. Damn chick was stubborn as hell. Dean agreed to a compromise: she went to class, he followed her everywhere while doing as many phone calls as he could achieve. Then went absolutely stir crazy while he waited.

She had two classes, which were a good couple of hours long. Then she used the computer lab to do her homework. All in all, he spent about eight hours there.

On the way back, they stopped at her apartment to meet with the landlord. Dean whipped out his fake ID again.

“So you’re saying the annual inspection is unrelated to the disappearances,” Dean said, pressing on the landlord hard. He wasn’t the vampire, but he acted strangely. Didn’t seem to care that someone busted down a door or that four of his tenants went missing.

“That’s right,” the landlord said, his expression hard and shuttered. “I don’t like your implications. Who’s your supervisor?”

“Nunya,” Dean said, annoyed. “Look. Four people are missing and your last remaining tenant got attacked. You’re saying you don’t give a shit?”

“I’m saying I don’t care as long as bills are paid. I’ve already notified the next of kin to come get their belongings. I’m replacing the door. What else do you want me to do?” The landlord was of height to Dean, and glared at him.

Dean wished he could throw down with this jerk. Uncooperative bastard. There was something off about the guy, but Dean couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Fine! What about a security system then?” Dean challenged. “I’m not leaving Y/N to get attacked again!”

“That’s your problem, son!”

Right then and there, Dean very nearly clobbered the guy. Y/N grabbed his arm, hastily saying his name. “Dean… Dean! Stop!”

Dean threw her a furious look, his green eyes dark. He was absolutely disliking how this asshole was approaching the situation. He was not about to leave Y/N alone without something better than a door to keep her safe.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Y/N said calmly. “I appreciate the door being replaced.”

The landlord scoffed, glared at Dean and muttered something about how it’d be replaced within the hour. And left. She waited a moment, then turned on Dean in a fury.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Me? That jackass is a part of this, I’m damned sure of it! And he’s just leaving you to get killed!” Dean wanted to punch something. Or kick. Preferably the landlord.

“If that’s how you treat human beings, I hate to see how you handle harmless monsters,” she shot back.

“Sweetheart, there aren’t any harmless monsters,” he said, wrenching his arm free of her grip.

“That you know of,” she challenged. God, this chick was going to give him a headache. Wait. He was already getting one.

“Christ. What are you, some monster version of PETA?”

She took a deep breath, contemplated slapping him, and counted to ten. Then, mustering as much calm as she could, she fixed a look on Dean. “Look. He can’t do anything else, okay? So what… what can we do?”

In that moment it took everything he had to not joke about fucking. She’d probably hit him. He cleared his throat, calmed down his temper if not his libido. “God. Uh. Okay.” He rubbed his scalp, let out a huff. “Okay. Great. He’s fixing the door. That’s still not gonna keep you safe.”

“Then what? W-what about crucifixion? Holy water?”

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s all Hollywood. Not gonna work.” He let out a breath. God, he deserved Sainthood for what he was about to do. “I can stay with you. Play bodyguard until I catch the vamp.”

“Excuse me?” She looked so offended, Dean wasn’t sure how to take that. He wasn’t ugly, come on. He also liked to think he wasn’t that bad in bed. His flings and one-night stands didn’t seem to complain. Yeesh.

“I can stay here,” he said slowly, enunciating carefully. “I’ll crash on your couch. Play bodyguard.”

“For how long?!”

“For however long it takes! Do you want to die?!” he shot back. He was so frustrated, he was absolutely about to lose it.

“Well, no! No one wants to die!” She threw her hands in the air. “This is a studio apartment, Dean! Ever heard of privacy?!”

Dean counted to ten. Then again. Nope, he wasn’t calm. Not this time. “Look,” he said, his anger heavily restrained. “This isn’t exactly what I was hopin’ to do, sweetheart. I was hoping to just come here, kill some monsters, and go on my merry way. Not play babysitter!”

“Well then, go ahead! Leave!” She flung a hand to the door, glaring at him. She stood there for long moments, waiting almost impatiently. “Well?!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re annoying! Look, I’m not leaving you here to get killed, Y/N!” He stormed up to her, almost nose to nose. God, he had problems all right if he found this ridiculously hot. “So suck it up, I’m crashing on your couch!”

Sparks were almost flying from her eyes, she was so damned pissed. She let out an angry grunt, spin on her heels and stalked into her bathroom. The door slammed behind her a moment later. He heard a yell of frustration after that and almost did the same himself.

“I’m grabbing stuff from my car! Don’t go anywhere!” he yelled out to the bathroom. He heard something that was undoubtedly profanities. He grinned. “Definitely my kind of girl,” he said with a chuckle, and headed out the doorway.

He popped the trunk, and then the hidden floor for what he’d need. Machete, his gun and— He never finished that thought as something hard smashed his head into the trunk and flung him to the ground. Dazed, he could barely focus as he saw something head into Y/N’s apartment. “No…” he groaned, unable to get up. His head was spinning too hard.

Barely seconds later, he heard something smash inside followed by a scream, this time full of fear. He heard his name. It was Y/N. She was screaming for him. “Come on… get up…” He struggled, rolled over, and nearly fell flat on his face. Just as he was pushing his way up, trying to control the sudden nausea that came from his head injury, a booted pair of feet came into his line of sight.

That was the last thing he saw before his face was kicked in.

Dean wasn’t proud of himself. He tracked down Mr. Smith, all but beat the shit out of him to find out his link to the vampire. Turned out it was some obscene, whacky slumlord scheme, all to get him money while the vampire feasts like a king. How it was never revealed before, Dean had no idea—and didn’t give a damn. He had to find Y/N.

John might object to how Dean handled it, but, well, his father wasn’t there. Sam would be too tender-hearted, maybe. Dean would do it again, if he had to. He failed Y/N, after all. Let the damned vampire get up behind him and knock him silly. It was damned embarrassing. John would probably lecture him on letting his guard down.

He probably wouldn’t tell his father, nope. Not up to proving his father he was a disappointment… again.

Regardless, he found out where the vampire was taking Y/N. The vamp took her and his other victims to some abandoned farm silo west of West Lafayette in some middle of bum-fucking-nowhere Indiana. Some little dinky town called Oxford.

He navigated down the streets, mindful of the unlit streets. “God, did these people never hear of street lights?” he grumbled, not wanting to wreck Baby on some goddamned pothole he didn’t see. Eventually asphalt gave way to gravel to dirt. He just about had a nightmare over the sheer cleaning he’d have to do of the Impala after all this was done.

When he finally saw the silo, he cut the engine and coasted a few more feet. He didn’t want to risk the vampire knowing he was there. As it was, he was sincerely and truly hoping Y/N was still alive. She was tough, she had fire, but the vampire had paranormal strength.

God, he’d love to ask her out after this. Given his luck though, she’d probably ask him to go the hell away and never bother her again.

He crept up to the silo, machete in hand, his gun in the back of his jeans. As he got closer, he started to hear voices, screaming. One of them was definitely feminine, afraid, in pain. Y/N. His heartbeat picked up as he hurried, heedless of any noise he was making.

A faint mist clung to the ground, swirling around the boots of the lone, young hunter. His knuckles were white, his breathing measured but tense, as he entered the silo. It was so dark, the moonlight barely illuminating the intricate interior.

Across from him, the vampire emerged from the shadows, its pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. Blood-red eyes pierce through the gloom, and a cruel smile spreads across its face.

“You came all this way, just to die?” the vampire hissed, its voice a low, mocking growl.

“One of us is dyin’ tonight,” Dean replied, tightening his grip on the machete. “And it ain’t me."

The vampire darted forward, a blur of movement too fast for the human eye. The young man anticipated the attack, swinging the machete in a wide arc. The blade whistled through the air, narrowly missing the vampire’s neck as it twisted to the side with inhuman grace.

“You’ll need to be faster than that,” the vampire taunted, its voice now behind him.

Dean spun, slashing upward. The machete grazed the vampire’s arm, drawing a thin line of dark blood. The creature snarled, its fangs glinting like daggers.

The vampire lunged, its fingers aimed for Dean’s throat. He ducked just in time, rolling to the side.

“You're surprisingly quick,” the vampire admitted, circling its prey. “But you’re tiring. I can hear your heartbeat slowing. Smell the sweat of your fear.”

Dean didn’t reply, his chest heaving as he strategized. He knew he had only one chance—one clean strike.

The vampire leaped again, this time coming from above. Dean raised the machete, catching the monster mid-jump. The blade bit deep into its side, sending it crashing to the ground with an unearthly scream.

But it’s not enough.

The vampire rose, the wound knitting itself together before Dean’s eyes. It smirked. “That all you got?”

Desperation fueled Dean’s next move. He feinted left, then swung hard to the right, aiming for the neck. The vampire, too confident, didn’t anticipate the feint. The machete connected with sickening force, burying itself deep in the creature’s throat.

For a moment, silence reigns. The vampire stumbled, its hands clawing at the blade embedded in its neck. Dark blood poured from the wound.

Dean didn’t hesitate. With a roar, he yanked the machete free and swung again, severing the vampire’s head in a single, brutal stroke.

The headless body collapsed, twitching once before going still. The head rolled to a stop, its crimson eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

Dean wiped the sweat and blood from his face, looking down at the vampire’s remains. “Told you,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

The fight was over, but the scars—both physical and mental—were just beginning to form.

He had no time to worry about that. He dropped the machete, ignoring it for now, and went in search of Y/N.

Dean found Y/N, freed her from the bindings. He also found the bodies of the missing people. He called 9-1-1 and reported the discovery before disappearing. He hated doing that to Y/N, but she needed the ambulance, the police, more than she needed him.

It would be hours later that he returned to her studio apartment. Her door was restored; good. He wouldn’t have to beat the landlord again, or try to do it himself. He saw her light on, so he knew she was home. Even so… he hesitated.

“Come on, man,” he whispered to himself. He knocked on her door and waited.

The outside light flickered on and he called up his best smile, unaware that it looked nervous and sickly more than confident. After a moment, Y/N cracked opened the door and peeked through the slit. “Dean…?”

“Hey. Uh. How’re you doing? Oh God,” he added in a whisper under his breath. He felt so fucking stupid. He saw her smile and he relaxed marginally. “Sorry for leavin’ you like that, but I had to. There’d be too many questions and—”

“Dean, shut up and come on in,” she said, stepping aside and opening the door. He hesitated, then stepped inside, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m glad you came back. I… wanted to thank you.”

“Uh, thank me? For what?”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “For saving my life,” she said, as though it should be obvious.

“I didn’t… but you got…” Great. Just great. His charm died with the vampire.

But she was smiling. “Thanks. I… really. Thank you.” Her smile fell, and out of the damned blue, she slapped him.

Dean’s head rocked to the side and he very nearly spun around. He caught himself, wiggled his jaw with his hand and stared at her. “What the hell?!”

“That was for abandoning me!” Then she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him into a searingly hot kiss. Dean’s brain froze. Just… froze. His libido popped out of the box and wondered if it was finally going to be freed. Then she let him go, breathing a bit heavily. “And that was for saving me.”

“Um…” Come on brain. Come on. Work! “You’re… welcome.”

She smiled, a bit shy, a bit amused at his reaction. “You can go now, Dean.”

“Yeah. Sure….” Damn. College girls can kiss!

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28

(If you do not want to be tagged for this Supernatural fic, please let me know and I'll remove you in future postings! If you want to be added, please let me know and I will!)

Edited: Fixed some paragraphs I accidentally copy-pasted twice from my Word doc!

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prentissluvr · 7 months ago

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HI MARI !!

IM HERE WITH MY DEAN THOUGHTS!! (mostly platonic)

when you become friends/best friends, he’s ride or die for you

not on the same level of sammy but it’s a close second

the playful banter between the two of you is just great

although he knows that he can be annoying and uses it to his advantage

flirting with you to annoy his brother (he knows that sammy is in love with you and does it to get on his nerves)

PET NAMES!

has a reserved nickname for you but does pull out the pet names if you’re having a bad day

speaking of bad days/sick days

he will go out of his way to take care of you

pulls out all of the stops for his bestie

this is when you realize this man is a secret softy at heart (refuses to admit it, because he’s a “big bad hunter”)

platonic cuddles/casual physical affection

dean is reserved with physical affection (im thinking post hell! dean) (earlier szns dean wouldn’t hold back tbh)

but once he’s comfortable with you (and is sure that you won’t leave him or sammy)

then it’s a free for all

swinging his arm over your shoulder, sharing a bed if there’s only two beds (sam seethes sometimes but this is way before you guys get together lol), resting his head in your lap during movie nights (starts off as a joke wanting to annoy you but then does it almost everytime you guys have one, loves when his hair is getting played with)

there’s def more but ill cut it off here (i love bestie dean but im also in love with him LOL) (the winchester brothers have a GRIP on me)

HELLO DAISYYYY HEHEHEHE this is amazing i'm so obsessed <33

cw : mentions of injuries, pet names obviously , dean is annoying ofc <3, sammy and reader like each other, swearing probably, alcohol mention, unedited! wc : 1.5K

⟢ ride or die : i mean yeah, this is pretty much undeniable. sure, sam will always be his first priority, but the moment he knows that you're a part of the team, no doubts, he's prepared to do just about anything for you. both fortunately and unfortunately, this does mean he gets really protective of you similarly to how he is with sam, especially if you're younger than him. and even if you're not, the fact that you're his best friend makes you family, and we know how dean feels about family <3

⟢ playful banter : this is basically just your whole friendship with him HAHA. not truly, of course, but mostly heh. like idk what else to say, he'll take any opportunity to tease you or make you fake angry because he just thinks it's too funny. and he'll love whatever way you respond to that. he definitely enjoys if you return his fire with your own teasing and retorts and i personally think you are so allowed to be mean to him because he's an idiot!! obviously don't be actually mean, but he enjoys having a teasing relationship where you can call each other stupid and know that the other means it with love lol.

when the two of you get into it, sam gets so annoyed. like you'll be arguing about the value of mustard on sandwiches and both of you are so invested in winning the argument and sam is like oh my god, dean please focus on the road and shut up, both of you😭😭 the boy is trying to sleep, he doesn't need this right now. so you either keep arguing in hushed tones (which doesn't last for long) or you pick it back up at another time (that's also probably inconvenient and annoying to sam still HA).

and yeah, dean can be very annoying and he loves to rile you up LOL. it's great when you reciprocate his banter, but sometimes he's just so ridiculous that it has you rolling your eyes and groaning in frustration. and unfortunately for you, that, or any other dramatic response, is exactly what dean is trying to get out of you. "dean, will you shut up?" is one of his favorites. he just laughs at you, he thinks the way you say it is so funny and cute.

he does other annoying things too, like rest his elbow on your head or shoulder if it reaches, he doesn't care if you're his same height, barely shorter, or significantly shorter, he's gonna make fun of your height. and if you're taller, yeah he's still gonna make fun of that, too. he'll playfully put his hand on the top of your head, just for the pure intention of annoying you. idk basically anything that annoys you, he does it (usually without going overboard, he knows where to draw the line).

and yeah, the flirting is more about annoying sam, but it's a total plus when you give him that look saying, "really, are you kidding me?" he'll love a good banter on that end of the spectrum too, if you're down for flirting back. unfortunately, this sends sam the wrong message for the longest time, but it's not your fault that you don't know that he likes you back! you're just playing around with dean heh.

⟢ pet names/nicknames : yes yes yes!! he absolutely has a nickname that is specific to you!! basically your version of "sammy." it might be a nickname based off of your given name, but it totally could be an inside joke, something silly and cute. it might even be a pet name that he uses for you exclusively. i can see him calling a younger best friend "pumpkin," mostly as another method of annoying you. that one is used pretty sparingly though because it's a little over the top for the both of you. he definitely uses it a lot less than whatever his main nickname for you is, which he uses just about all the time lol. if you have a nickname based off you name, sam probably uses that, too. so, dean likes having a separate nickname that he came up with which only he uses.

and yes! he does use pet names casually and occasionally, but he's far more likely to use them if you're having a bad day, if you were injured on a hunt, or something like that! i think maybe this is just because i'm obsessed with the time that dean called lisa honey once, but i think the idea of dean calling his best friend honey is really adorable. that one is used for maximum comfort, especially if you're injured <3 "c'mon, honey. keep your eyes open, you're okay." i can also see dean using baby platonically sometimes!

he does occasionally use over the top names like sugar plum or honey bunches to annoy you lol. he will "sweetheart" you in a teasing way because he loves the way it makes you fume LOL. but in special circumstances, he'll call you sweetheart sincerely (also more likely when you're injured—"you're alright, sweetheart, we're almost to the motel"). idk if this counts as a pet name, but he'll definitely call you kid and kiddo if you're younger than him like how he does with charlie <3 i see him using darlin' very casually! "alright, c'mon darlin', let's see what sammy found." casual pet names means he's in a good mood though. he also will use insults like pet names because you're his idiot best friend <33

he won't tell you this but he likes if you've got a nickname for him, too! but he will tease you if you try to use the same pet names for him, even if you're casual about it in the same way he is.

⟢ taking care of you on bad/sick days : uhm yeah, he tries not to be obvious about it, but when he goes the the store just to pick up your favorite treat or kisses your forehead like fifty billion times when he thinks you're asleep, there's no way you can miss what a big softie he is. if the way you wear your hair allows, he'll brush any stray strands out of your face, especially if you're sick and it's stuck to your face with with sweat. checks your temperature on your forehead with his hand <3 then if he thinks you have a fever, he busts out the thermometer and takes your temp that way just to make sure you don't have to go to the hospital. he brings you your meds and lovingly bothers you about eating enough food. makes you watch movies with him lol

on days that are simply just bad, well, he's horrible with emotions, but he knows that pie and alcohol can fix almost anything (this is not true, but it still helps you to have a treat and a drinking buddy). while he's bad with emotions, he is absolutely more than willing to listen to anything you need to talk about. he's not sure how to tell you that he's there for you out loud, so he'll pour you another drink if you're not too drunk and rub your back with a soft, but firm hand. his go to phrase to comfort you is, "we'll figure it out," and it works because you know he really means it, and he says it in a soft and sweet tone that's quite rare for him.

⟢ physical affection : he can definitely be more reserved sometimes with touch, but he welcomes any physical affection that you initiate. if you purposefully stand shoulder to shoulder, he'll put his arm around you, and he'll certainly accept any hugs you have to offer. like you said, once he's even more comfortable and confident in your being around, he's much more open about swinging an arm around your shoulder and any given moment (especially because he can shove you around a little that way lmao).

he's definitely okay with the bed sharing, mostly because it's a necessity, though he tries to get you to share with sam much more once he realizes that you like each other because he can see sam physically become upset when you share with dean lmao.

movie nights are prime time for physical affection with dean!! i definitely agree that he puts his head in your lap first to annoy you, but when you don't bat an eye and start running your fingers through his hair, he's done for. he always is trying to get you to do it again, every time you watch something together, and that's when it gets annoying lmao, because he won't let you rest your head on his shoulder anymore or let you be the one to put you head in his lap. he'll make an exception if you're having a bad though hah. once again, he will dial down the cuddles if he can tell that it's bothering sam, but will absolutely not give up the physical affection with you because he thinks sam needs to get over it LOL. because, at the end of the day!! you'll always be his best friend, and he will always respect you and your relationship with sammy.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x sibling!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x gn!reader #dean winchester platonic #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural platonic fic #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x best friend!reader #dean winchester #dean supernatural #. >> asks !#. >> mooties ౨ৎ !#. >> daisy ౨ৎ !#. >> dean ♥︎ !#. >> spn !

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s0urw00lf · 29 days ago

Text

Twisted luck

Woman in white

Sam Winchester x reader ALL INCLUSIVE

Summary: when Sam and dean show up in your living room telling you that you mother and john were missing you couldn’t leave them hanging. Besides it was only one hunt, one hunt can’t hurt right?

AN: I'm actually super proud of readers addition to the story. I hope everyone likes it!!! Also if you see any mistakes please let me know, I went over this 4 times. Twisted Luck master list

Next chapter

You usually slept all through the night when your boyfriend was home, the comfort of his presence behind you gave you the constant reminder that you aren’t alone anymore usually helped you sleep better, but recently you couldn't shake the feeling of doom that settled deep in your gut.

So you sat awake with the t.v. on low hoping that the soap opera playing would lull you to sleep, but you were the furthest from it and really wanted popcorn but you knew Jason would wake up if you were gone too long.

‘I'll just be quick’ you thought to yourself before carefully removing his arm from around your waist and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door so that if you made too much noise it wouldn’t wake him.

You walked to the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets in search of the popcorn, until you saw a glimpse of it on the third shelf, “Jason you ass” you muttered to yourself, climbing onto the counter reaching for it.

Your fingertips barely brushed the box before you found yourself pausing when you heard one of the floorboards creak, immediately you tensed from instinct.

Looking over to the bedroom you saw that the door was still closed so it couldn’t have been from your boyfriend.

You slowly climbed down off of the counter and bent down below the counters, opening up one of the lower cabinets you reached in feeling the top for the gun you had hidden before your boyfriend moved in, silently cursing to yourself when you realized it wasn’t there.

You looked around for another efficient weapon and your eyes landed on the rack of knives Jason insisted on buying for the kitchen. You grabbed the one that Jason had just sharpened the day before and began moving towards the sound.

It was as if the person you’d tried to bury for three years was seeping back out through the cracks. Your breath was even and your heart was beating steady. You knew whoever was in your home would regret even laying eyes on it when it was all said and done.

Your trained ears picked up the hushed whispers coming from the living room, you long ago memorized every nook and cranny of the apartment, down to which parts of the floors creaked and avoided them easily.

You peeked into the room and saw two tall figures one towering over the other immediately you knew who they were.

You placed your knife on the floor before you swiftly ran towards the shorter one wrapping your legs around his neck before twisting your body, causing his body to flip over and landing on his face. “Told ya” he groaned.

You stood up placing your hands on your hips and let a sly grin take form on your face “Hiya Dean” you said, then looked over to Sam who held an impressed expression. “I see you haven't lost your touch” he teased, moving to help Dean up.

“Over my dead body” You said, moving to flick on the lights and motioning for them to have a seat.

You sat on the couch in front of them crossing your legs out of habit from your job “so what's with the family reunion?” You asked, looking between the two of them.

Both Dean and Sam glanced at each other having a silent conversation that you completely understood. “Our parents are missing. They were on a hunting trip” Dean started. “And?” You questioned urging him to get on with the story.

“And that was about a month ago, haven’t heard from ‘em since” he continued. You eyed him “okay, well what were they hunting” you asked leaning forward.

Dean pulled out an article from his jacket pocket placing it on the coffee table “ they were checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho California. Around the time they left this guy-“ he pointed to the picture of a young guy “they found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA”

You skimmed over the article before glancing back up at the brothers “so what was he kidnapped?” You questioned, finally Sam spoke up, “that’s what i thought too but check this out, there was one in April, another one in ‘04, ‘03, ‘98, ‘92” he said as he handed you more articles of missing men. “Ten of them over the past twenty years” Dean said. “All men, all the same five mile stretch of road”.

”i'm guessing it got worse” you said and Dean nodded “so they went to dig around, I haven’t heard from them since. Then I got this voicemail yesterday.” He says as he pulls out a tape recorder before pressing play. The audio was scratchy and breaking up but you could make out John’s voice almost perfectly.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

“You check it for EVP?” You asked, Dean gave you a grin telling you that he had “not too bad sweetheart” Dean shakes his head before “I slowed it down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss and this is what i got” he said pressing play again

“…. I can never go home”

Dean sets down the cassette tape and they both look at you expectantly. You sighed rolling your eyes, knowing your answer before they even ask ‘once a hunter always a goddamn hunter’ you thought, rolling your eyes. “So what do you think?” Sam asks, eyebrows pinched together as if he was trying to read you.

You looked back towards the bedroom, surprised your boyfriend hadn’t come out in search of you even through all the ruckus ‘it’s just one hunt. Right?’ You thought. “I think… we got ourselves a hunt boys”

At that a smile slipped on both boys faces and Dean let out a loud ‘whoop' causing you to let out a laugh before pausing, “just this one. I have a… life here” you explained, and just as quickly as it came it was gone, well for Dean at least. “Wha-“ he was cut off by the bedroom door creeping open and out walked Jason, his hair was messy from sleep but he looked confused at the two men you were so comfortable sitting with in the living room.

“The hell,” Dean muttered as he stood up. Before anyone could do or say anything you stood up “uh Jason this is Dean and Sam. I grew up with them.” You explained as Jason got closer a look of realization set on his face “uh nice to meet you” he said as he stepped to give the brothers a handshake, Dean eyed him but surprisingly shook his hand, and then he moved to Sam who gave you an unreadable look as he shook Jason’s hand.

You then decided to break the silence, looking at Jason “uh i need to talk to you” you said, he looked between you and the boys confused “sure okay” he said with a slow nod.

You glanced at Sam and Dean, giving them a look that meant ‘beat it’. Sam immediately picked up on it and cleared his throat “we’ll wait in the car” he said, stepping past Dean. Dean gave your boyfriend one last look as he followed Sam.

Once the boys were gone Jason gave you an expectant look, you sighed trying to think of the best way to tell him about the situation.

You’d never talked about your life before leaving hunting, especially not to your clueless boyfriend, no matter how annoyed it made him that you knew more about him than he did you. “I'm going on a trip with them, just a… family thing.” You began.

Jason scoffed “so you just decide at what-“ he paused to check his watch “four in the morning to go on a family trip?” He asked, tilting his head.

You slowly nodded her head “yeah, just family stuff” you shrugged, Jason rolled his eyes at you “babe the most I’ve ever heard about your family were their names. You don't visit them during holidays, or birthdays. To be completely honest I thought they didn’t exist.” He said rubbing a hand through his hair.

You scoffed, taken aback by his comment, walking away from him and going to your shared room to pack. “Where are you going?” He called, following after.

“To pack my stuff, so I can go on a roadtrip with my ‘imaginary’ family” you sarcastically remarked, grabbing your old hunting bag and subtly placing the box full of your old hunting gear in it before moving to pack some clothes.

Jason sighed “look babe, I didn’t mean it like that. All i'm saying is it's a little weird they show up randomly at four in the morning and demand a road trip” he defended himself.

You threw her head back in irritation. Not at him but more so that you’d been born into such an odd, unexplainable family life, “can you at least tell me where you're going” he asked defeated.

You put your head down, clenching your eyes shut hoping that this moment would end already, “my mother is missing.” You stiffly admitted.

Jason let out a scoff, when you looked at him he looked about ready to lose his mind because you’d lost yours. “Your mother is missing and instead of calling the cops you go on a road trip?” He asked, not really being able to believe what he was hearing.

You paused “you wanted to know my family? Here’s a glance into my world.” You said, zipping up the duffel bag. Looking at Jason you could see the confused and helpless look on his face, sighing as you walked towards him and pressing a kiss to his lips, before pulling away, brushing the stubble on his chin with your thumb “i'll only be gone three days tops, ‘kay? Then when i get back you can ask me anything and i'll do my best to answer” you promised

Jason looked like he was studying your face for the last time “okay” he said, you nodded leaning in to give him one last kiss before you departed “ill see you soon, i lo-“ you cut yourself off before you could even start.

Jason nodded again, giving your hips a squeeze and pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before you backed away.

Sometime after getting in the car your body finally allowed you to sleep, maybe it was the sound of baby’s engine lulling you to sleep like it used to all those years ago, or maybe it was the sense that nothing would hurt you while you’re with Sam and Dean and that allowed the feeling in your gut to settle.

When you woke up, the sun was up and the car was no longer moving. Sam was sitting half way out of the front seat looking at the box of cassette tapes Dean inherited from john. “Where’s Dean?” You asked, catching Sam’s attention.

He gestured to the old looking gas station. You took in the surroundings and grimaced “charming” you muttered to herself as you got out of the car, to stretch your legs.

You were finally able to take a good look at Sam and suddenly a wave of nostalgia hit you like a truck.

Though he’d gotten taller and more lean since the last time you saw him, you felt like that nineteen year old girl on the road with her boyfriend and best friend, and a sense of longing filled you quickly seeping into her chest, but you shut it down before you could dwell too much on it.

You had a new life now, better, safer, and a boyfriend you couldn’t wait to get back home and see. Though you weren’t excited for the ‘ghosts, goblins, and vampires are real’ talk.

You moved towards Sam and leaned over him to peek into the box to see the same old cassette tapes he had when you left. Not one more or less.

“He seriously needs new music,” you joked, pulling out a cassette labeled ‘AC/DC’. “Tell me about it,” Sam laughed, causing you to smile. “Hey” Dean called from behind the car, catching you and Sam’s attention. He held up some snacks he bought while in the gas station. “Want breakfast?” He asked

“No thanks” Sam said, returning his attention back to the tapes. Dean then looked to you questioningly “im fine, but i will take that” you pointed to the drink in his hand. He tossed it to you and you caught it effortlessly. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?” Sam asked. You snorted “you’re surprised?”

“Yeah well hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career” Dean replied as he put the gas pump back where it belongs. “Besides all we do is apply, not our fault they send us the cards”. You raised your eyebrows in agreement “can't exactly argue with that” you said, getting back into the car. “Yeah, and what name did you write on the application this time?” Sam re-adjusted himself in the seat before closing the door.

Dean paused before he got in the car “uh Bert afframnian, and his son hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.” Dean smiled proudly. Sam laughed “sounds about right” he said. “I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection” Sam said, causing Dean to frown “why?” He asked.

“Well for one there cassette tapes” you interjected putting your head in between theirs, Sam began to pick up singular cassettes and list the names “and two, Black Sabbath, motor head, metallica” Sam finished as Dean snatched the tape from his hand looking very offended.

“It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock, Dean there’s a whole world of music you’ve left undiscovered. You’d love Avril Lavigne” you teased causing Sam to laugh. Dean placed the cassette in the player “house rules Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole, and you stay in the back seat” he said pushing your head back so you were sitting correctly before starting the car.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother ”Sammy is a chubby twelve year old, it's Sam” he tried to correct. You laughed “good luck trying to make that stick sammy” you said before Dean turned up the music. “Sorry I can't hear you, the music’s too loud,” Dean said before pulling off. The sound of the engine giving her another wave of nostalgia, maybe you had missed this more than you let yourself believe.

“Okay thanks” you said before closing your phone, “so there’s nobody at the morgue matching mom or john’s description, so that’s a start” you tell the boys. Sam nods at the information while Dean pulls off to the side of the road, his attention set on the bridge just ahead crossed off with yellow tape.

“Check it out” he said before opening the glove box and pulling out another box filled with fake ids, he smirked at you and Sam before getting out of the car “let's go”. You and Sam looked at each other with worry, both of your carriers were on the line if you got caught, you tilted your head “we have to” you said, before following Dean out the car, Sam not too far behind.

You, Sam and Dean walked onto the crime scene taking in every piece of information you could. “I’m guessing that’s the sheriff”, you pointed to a man looking over the bridge before moving to talk to another officer who looked to be dusting for fingerprints inside the car.

“No sign of struggle, no footprints, fingerprints spotless, it’s almost too clean” the officer said to the sheriff. The man sighed at the information “so this kid Troy, he’s dating your daughter isn’t he? How’s Amy doing?” The sheriff asked the officer.

“She’s putting up missing posters downtown” he answered. Dean walked toward them interrupting their conversation “you fellas had one like this last month didn’t you?” He spoke loudly, catching the sheriff's attention. “And who are you?” He asked, causing Dean to flash his fake badge “federal marshals” Dean answered.

The man did a once over at the three of them, none of them looking a say over 20 “you three are a little young for Marshall’s aren’t you?” You and Sam smirked at each other while Dean laughed “thanks that’s awfully kind of you” he said before moving on quickly “you did have another one just like this correct?” He asked. The sheriff nodded “yeah that’s right, about a mile down the road. There’ve been others before that.” He said.

You walked over to the car leaning down to get a closer inspection “do you mind if i uh…” you asked, gesturing to the car, the sheriff nodded “go ahead, but there’s nothing there. We swept it from top to bottom” he said. You smiled “I’m sure, I just want to get a good look myself” you said. You began to inspect the car making sure not to touch anything or leave any kind of DNA just in case.

Sam and Dean continued questioning the sheriff while you inspected the car, and so far you came up with nothing. The car’s clean, eerily so. Maybe some small part of you began to believe that whatever was here took your parents, that maybe they didn’t skip town to lead their kids on a manhunt for them, but then again they were too stubborn to die by the hands of something as little as a pissed off spirit.

Dean walked over beside you “anything?” He whispered, you shook your head “nothing, almost like he was never even here” you told him, standing up. “So what's the theory?” Sam asked, walking over to where you and Dean stood. The man shrugged “Honestly? We don’t know, serial murder, kidnapping ring” the sheriff answered.

“That is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys-“ Dean was cut off by Sam stomping on his foot. Your eyes widened but you covered it with a smile “please excuse us, we're done here” you said, pushing Sam and Dean to walk past the confused man “thank you for your time” Sam said giving a quick smile.

Sam walked ahead of you and Dean and she could tell he was irritated just by the way he was walking. Dean looked back to see if any of the police were looking before he slapped the back of Sam’s head. “Ow!” Sam whispered with clenched teeth.

You rolled your eyes at their antics, not in the mood for their arguing, you walked ahead of the both of them, somehow being the only one to catch the three men walking towards the three of you.

Two of whom were real FBI agents, you paused your walking backtracking a few steps and turned to both Sam and Dean who had his back toward you, you caught Sam’s eye over Dean's shoulder and gestured to the men behind her. Sam cleared his throat trying to send the message to his brother. Dean turned just as the men reached them.

“Can I help you kids?” The local officer's demeanor was a lot more authoritative than the others. You gave the men a charming smile “oh no sir, we just wanted to know what happened, we were just leaving” you said, not dropping the innocent act.

You led the brothers away from the bridge and back to the car, shaking your head the whole way.

When they all got back in the car you spoke “i say we go talk to that Amy girl”

Downtown

You, Sam and Dean walked downtown in search of Amy for about five minutes until all of your eyes landed on a girl putting up ‘missing’ posters. “I bet you that’s her” Dean said, you and Sam agreed.

The three of you walked up to the girl “you must be Amy” Dean said, the girl nodded as she taped up a poster. You stepped in front of Dean “yeah Troy told us about you, I’m y/n, this is Dean and Sammy were his aunt and uncles”, Amy eyed you weirdly, Sam and Dean could pass but you not so much.

Dean must’ve noticed because he nudged you toward Sam’s side and you caught on pretty quickly, wrapping your arm around him.

You couldn’t see Sam’s face but you were sure it was something along the lines of shock, then a look from you to Dean then quickly covering it with a tight lipped smile as he stiffly tugged you in closer.

Amy must’ve accepted the facade as she returned to putting up the posters “he never mentioned you to me” she said before turning to walk. The three of you followed and you and Sam let Dean take the lead in talking “yeah well that’s Troy i guess, we’re not around much we’re up in Modesto” he lied.

Sam broke away from you making you frown a bit, watching him move in front of Amy bringing her walk to a halt. “So we’re looking for him too and were kind of asking around-“ Sam was cut off by another girl stopping next to Amy asking her if she was okay, you assumed she was her friend.

“Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?” You asked to which Amy agreed.

Amy and her friend led the three of you to a cafe, it was dark inside no thanks to the lack of sunshine outside, you sat between Dean and Sam whilst the two teenage girls sat on the other side.

Amy began telling you about the last time she and Troy spoke “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.” She said.

Sam leaned forward, more intrigued. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” He asked. Amy shook her head, a frown painted on her face “no. Nothing I can remember” she said.

You glanced down at Amy’s necklace. It was a pentagram “i like your necklace” you complemented. Amy glanced down at the necklace and smiled “thanks, Roy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff.” She laughed at the memory.

Sam huffed out a laugh beside you “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”, you raised your brows not expecting Sam to go full on encyclopedia. “Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.” Dean said earning a bitch face from Sam

Dean took his arm off the back of the seat and leaned forward. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything” Dean trailed off noticing the look Amy and Rachel give to each other “What is it?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.” Rachel started “What do they talk about?” The brothers say in unison, creeping you out just a little bit “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered on Centennial, like decades ago.” Rachel continues to explain.

Dean gives you and Sam a look you returned with a glance while Sam continues to listen to Rachel’s story “Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “We got a lead,” you muttered under your breath to the brothers.

You sat in a chair to the side watching as Dean typed on the computer, coming up with nothing every time he pressed enter. Sam tried to take over the computer “let me try.” He said, but Dean smacked Sam’s hand away, “I got it,” he grumbled.

Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair out of the way and scooted his closer, “dude!” Dean says hitting Sam’s shoulder, though the younger Winchester didn’t even spare him a glance “you’re such a control freak” Deans says and he scoots closer.

You smiled at their bickering, you didn’t miss the blow out fights you all used to have but you did miss the moments like these that you found yourself thinking about often causing a comforting feeling to spread in your chest.

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asks.

“Right” you confirmed, scooting closer to get a better look at the computer. “Well maybe it’s not murder” he says replacing ‘murder’ with ‘suicide’ in the search bar then pressing enter, an article popped up titled ‘suicide on Centennial’.

“I think he's got you beat Dean-o” you sarcastically remarked, earning a glare from Dean.

Sam opened the article dated back to April 25, 1981. “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” Sam reads, Dean leaned forward “does it say why she did it?” He asked.

“Yeah” you answered, “what?” “Says an hour before they found her, she called 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.’” You read, sympathy settled in your gut for the woman.

Sam continued reading “‘Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam says as he scrolled, a picture of the bridge you were at before showed itself on the screen “that bridge looks familiar to you?” Dean says.

SYLVANIA BRIDGE

By nightfall you, Sam, and Dean were back walking down the bridge, you all stopped to look over the railing down into the rushing river, “so this is where Constance took the swan dive” Deans said, before continuing on walking.

You and Sam followed “so you think they would’ve been here?” Sam asks Dean, Dean looks back at the two of you “well he’s chasing the same story and we're chasing him” Deans answered.

You sighed, continuing your walk. “Okay, so now what?” You and Sam simultaneously ask. You could tell Dean was purposefully not looking back at you and Sam “Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.” Dean answered slowly.

You and Sam stop, glancing at each other before looking at Dean. Sam sighs “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-“ Dean cuts Sam off as he turns around “Monday. Right. The interview” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You shrugged, while you didn’t have any important plans like Sam, you still had to get home to Jason “i gotta get home Dean” you said.

“You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become a Lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks, and something struck your heart, the thought of your first love marrying someone else, you pushed it away. “Maybe, why not?” Sam answered.

Dean looked at you “you gonna marry that guy hmm? Knowing he can't protect you? Being normal while knowing the truth about the things that come out at night?” He asked, stepping towards you.

You shrugged, getting irritated. “If that's what happens, yeah Dean, why is that so bad?” You questioned, you thought when you left Dean was happy for you, supportive at least but you could see now it was a facade.

“Do they even know the truth, i mean do they know about the things you’ve done?” Dean asks. Sam steps forward “ no and she’s not ever going to know” “that’s not gonna happen” both you and Sam said at the same time.

Dean paused, raising his eyebrows “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean said as he turned and kept walking.

You sighed, knowing that Dean was just upset. He wanted things to go back to how they were with you, your mom, Sam, John and him. He wanted his family back and you couldn’t fault him for it.

But the way he was going about it wasn’t the right way. Sam however feeds into it “and who’s that?” He asks. “You're one of us.” Dean answers, making Sam rush to get in front of Dean.

“No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.” Sam finalized, Dean rolled his eyes “You have a responsibility to-“ Sam cut Dean off “To our parents? And their crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like.” He said before pointing to you, “she’s been on the receiving end of y/m/n’s anger about y/f/n’s death her whole life” he continued, your chest tightened a little at his words, you’d never admitted it to anyone other than Sam when you were barley thirteen.

“And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, they’re gone. And they aren’t coming back.”he finished. Dean grabbed Sam by his collar and shoved him up against the railing of the bridge, making you step forward “hey! Calm down” you shouted, Dean ignored you.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that”Dean warned before releasing Sam from his grip and continuing on his walk. Sam looked at you seeing your expression “y/n i-“ you cut him off “don’t, just don’t.”

You walked past him, it wasn’t what he said about your father that upset you, you’d accepted it a long time ago, but him telling Dean something you admitted to him after he found you crying, hit a nerve.

When you looked ahead your heart skipped a beat, not far ahead of you was Dean, but what caught your eye was the woman in the white dress standing on the ledge of the bridge.

“Sam.” Dean called, not taking his eyes off the woman, Sam moved to stand next to Dean and the tree of you watched the woman look at you before stepping off the ledge, you immediately sprint towards where she was, but when you got there she was gone “where’d she go?” Sam asked, “I don't know,” you said looking down at the river for the second time that night.

The sound of the impala starting immediately caught you and the brother’s attention, the headlights shined bright and the engine revved loudly. “Shit” you muttered. “Who’s driving your car?” Sam asks. Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and you glance at them and roll your eyes “great”.

As soon as the words slipped past your lips the car began speeding towards the three of you, you didn’t waste any time taking off in a sprint, Sam and Dean weren’t far behind you and you could hear one of them yelling “go go run”.

They caught up to you fairly quickly thanks to their long legs, Sam grabbed your wrist pulling you with him as he jumped over the railing after Dean. Luckily he hadn’t let go because your foot slipped off of the side leaving you dangling over the river, holding on to nothing but Sam.

“Don’t let me go!” You shouted over the loud rushing of water below you. “It’s okay i got you” Sam said, pulling you back up, and this time you were careful with your footing.

You let out a breath “thanks” you huffed, Sam smiled “no problem”. His smile warms your heart and you fight the blush threatening to show on your cheeks. You looked back over the railing to see baby parked as if nothing happened.

Looking around you couldn’t spot Dean anywhere “where’s Dean?” You asked Sam. The both of you looked over the ledge, shouting Dean's name. After two calls you saw something crawl out of the water covered in mud “what!” It shouted.

It was Dean, “are you okay?” You shouted, Dean put up an OK sign with his hand “I’m super” he said. You and Sam smiled glancing at each other before climbing back over the railing.

Not long after Dean closed the hood of the impala “car alright?” Sam asked. “Yeah whatever she did to it, seems alright now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” Dean shouted into the distance.

You came up beside him “well she doesn’t want us digging around that’s for sure” Sam said, and you hummed in agreement “So where's the job go from here, genius?” You asked Dean who just flicked the mud off of his hands in response.

Just then the wind blew and your nose caught the smell wafting from Dean making you cringe. You saw Sam making the same face before looking at Dean “you smell like a toilet” he said, you smiled, holding your laughter at the look on Dean's face.

“One room please” Dean said, dropping the card on the guest registry list, the old man at the front desk picked up the card eyeing Dean's muddy attire, before looking at you then Sam.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” The clerk asked, your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” Sam asked, speaking your mind. I had another guy, Burt Aframian came in with his wife. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” The man said. Dean turned and gave you and Sam a look.

You stood beside Dean completely blocking the view of anyone looking while Sam picked the lock to the room your mother and John stayed in. The door creaked open and you followed Sammy into the room.

You looked around in shock and Sam yanked Dean into the room and closed the door. “Woah” was all Sam could muster up. The room was a mess as if they just vanished, a suitcase thrown over the bed, food wrappers were still on the nightstand.

And papers were still thumb tacked to the wall. You stepped over the ring of salt and further into the room not paying any attention to Dean sniffing the day's old burger. You moved to pick through the discarded suitcase that was unmistakably your mothers, not listening to the conversation Sam and Dean were having.

Your heart sped up feeling as if you were about to commit a crime when you opened the suitcase, you would’ve never heard the end of it if your mother ever caught you going through her personal belongings.

Her clothes were inside neatly stored in rows of shirts, pants and whatever else, however nothing could’ve prepared you when you pulled a knife out of the bottom. The blade was covered by a white sheath.

You pulled the knife out of the sheath to take a look at the blade. It was long about the size of a ruler, and the brand new white leather on the handle made your breath hitch.

It looked exactly the same as your mothers, the one your father had gifted her the day of your birth, you turned the knife to look at the bottom and your initials and a date was engraved in a small font. “Hey Sam?” You called, catching him and Dean's attention. “Yeah?” He said moving towards you.

“What’s today’s date?” You asked. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but still pulled his phone out to check “it’s November second, why?”. You turned to face the brothers showing them the knife.

Dean opened his mouth to speak “is that-“ “no, it looks like hers but it has my initials and today’s date. What does that mean?” You asked. Sam and Dean looked at each other unsure themselves.

You excused yourself from the motel so you could call Jason and update him a bit, the phone rang a few times before Jason’s cheery voice greeted you ‘Hey Jason here, I couldn’t come to the phone. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can’. Voicemail.

You started to feel that feeling settle in your stomach again. So you called again, and again voicemail. Every time. “Son of a bitch” you said tilting your head back. After a few more tries and still no luck you re-entered the room again.

Sam looked up at you from one of the two beds in the room. He turned off his phone, he must’ve been calling Jessica and had just about the same amount of luck as you.

You plopped down on the other bed letting out a breath, you and Sam sat in a comfortable silence until you broke it. “How’s college life treating you?” You asked, looking at him. Sam looked back at you from his seated position and smiled, “it’s great, yeah. Normal” he said.

You smiled, “I bet, can't imagine Sam Winchester at a college party” you laughed at the thought, Sam laughed along with you shaking his head “yeah no it’s not really my scene” he said. You smiled, “so, what have you been up to since you left hunting?” Sam asked you. You paused, huffing out a laugh i uh- I’ve been looking to join the FBI. Behavioral analyses specifically.” You admitted.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “The FBI? Y/n that’s great! I mean what-“ Sam cut himself off with a scoff.

You smiled “yeah i know i uh got into Yale, not long after i left and majored in criminal justice and psychology. Got through it pretty fast, thanks to hunting I mean it was pretty easy to grasp.” You shrugged.

“Y/n this is big! Does anybody know-“ Sam was cut off by Dean swinging the bathroom door open “know what?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. “Uh nothing” you said before Sam could say anything.

Sam picked up on your hesitance and sent Dean a tight lipped smile. He looked between the two of you weirdly before shrugging it off. “Anyway, I'm starving. I'm gonna go grab something to eat at that diner down the street” Dean said “want anything?” He asked.

“No thanks” “no” you and Sam said. “You sure? Aframian’s buying” he said, both you and Sam declined again. Dean shrugged and stepped out of the door.

When the door closed you turned back to Sam “I haven’t told anyone. Just you.” you said, Sam looked at you with understanding. “Well maybe we’ll work together on a case,” he said with a smile. “You bet law boy”.

After the conversation ended, Sam began to fill you in on the woman in white legends that you missed earlier, but he wasn’t able to get very far in because your phone began to ring.

You picked it up hoping it’d be Jason, it wasn’t it was Dean. You sighed, answering “yeah?” You answered.

“Dude, five-oh take off.” You whipped your head to Sam “what about you” you asked standing up “they kinda spotted me. Go find our parents” he says then he hangs up.

“We gotta go, cops. They’ve got Dean already” you said. Sam moves to look out of the window but quickly backs away when he sees the cop start towards the room.

After you and Sam escaped you both split up, Sam went to speak to Constance’s husband and you went to figure out a way to get Dean out of the hole. Which wasn’t too hard, all you had to do was shoot a few rounds and then call it in, waiting for the cops to leave and let Dean do his part.

While you were waiting Sam called you “got anything?” You asked, “so the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house.” He said.

You looked at your surroundings, you weren’t far from the old Welch house “okay, how bout i meet you there?” You suggested, eyeing the small blue car you were passing. “Wait, what about Dean?” He asked

you smirked “Deans fine, trust me”. Sam nodded, though you couldn’t see “and uh, how do you plan to get there?” He asked, and just as he finished his question he heard a car alarm go off, he scoffed with a smile “you're stealing a car?” He said.

You shrugged “what can i say Sammy, old habits die hard”. Sam rolled his eyes “okay meet you there”

While you were driving your phone rang again, the id wasn’t one you knew but you answered none the less. “Hello?” You said.

“Sam’s in trouble” Dean's voice rang out. Your eyebrows furrowed “what how?” You asked, speeding the car up a little. “No time to explain, just get to the Welch house” he said before hanging up. “Damn it Sam” you said driving way past speeding limits.

When you arrived you started to hear gunshots, telling you that either of them beat you there. You stopped the car seeing Dean holding his shotgun, shooting at Constance’s spirit with a… salt round?

You shook off your confusion before getting out of the car and running towards him. But before you reached them the impala took off and crashed into the side of the house. Suddenly the voice rang through your head ‘I can never go home’ you almost laughed to yourself. He took her home.

Hurriedly you ran towards the passenger side beside Dean. “Sam! Sam, you okay?” Dean asked, Sam groaned, causing relief to spread through you “I think..” Sam said.

“Can you move?” You asked. Sam nodded his head “yeah, can you help me” he asked, and Dean helped Sam out of the car.

When Sam was out of the car you noticed Constance holding a frame, most likely of her family, until she looked up at the tree of you and dropped the frame, stepping out of the way and pushing you guys against the car with the dresser.

You groaned when the dresser hit your hips and it was for sure to leave a bruise, even with you and the boys combined strength you couldn’t move the dresser.

Constance stepped towards you with malice in her eyes, but stopped when the lights started flickering. You looked around in confusion at her confusion.

Then water began flowing down the stairs and you saw shadows of two small children at the top. ‘You’ve come home to us mommy’ the children said, sending goosebumps down your spine.

Suddenly the children were behind Constance, she turned and looked at the children who embraced her in a hug causing her to scream, soon enough all three spirits were reduced to a puddle on the floor.

The hold on the dresser disappeared and you guys were able to push the dresser off of you. You walked over to the puddle with Sam and Dean in tow “ So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean said.

You and Sam nodded “that’s why she could never go home, she was too scared to face them” Sam replied.

You frowned “it’s tragic what heartbreak can do to someone” you said. There was a silence before Dean slapped Sam’s chest “you found her weak spot. Nice work Sammy” Dean complemented proudly. Sam winced at the impact but shrugged it off with a laugh.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the Same to you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Sam joked “Hey. Saved your ass.” Dean replied, moving to look at the car. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” Dean turned around to look at Sam. “I'll kill you.” He pointed. You and Sam looked at each other with huge grins

And just like that you were back on the road headed home. Sam in the passenger seat held a flashlight so he could see the map “okay, here’s where they went. It’s called black Water Ridge, Colorado” Sam said.

You leaned forward looking over his shoulder “how far?” You asked. Sam glanced back at you before looking at the map “about six hundred miles” he answered. You hummed, sitting back in your seat.

Dean nodded along to the music “Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.” He said. You and Sam paused glancing at each other. “Dean-“ you started but was cut off by Dean “you’re not coming” he said nodding. “The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” Sam says, Dean looks back at you through the rear view mirror.

“I have a job Dean… and Jason’s expecting me-“ Dean cut you off “yeah whatever, I’ll take you home” he said, you could hear the disappointment in his tone. You sighed

laying your head against the headrest.

When you got to Sam's apartment you waited for him and Dean to say their goodbyes before you got out of the car calling his name.

He turned around and you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back with a laugh, “it was good seeing you sammy” you said, pulling away. He nodded “yeah, you too… see you at work?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding “see you at work” you confirmed. Before getting back in the car, the front seat this time. Before pulling off, Dean looked at you with a smirk causing you to roll your eyes. “Knock it off Winchester,” you joked.

Dean laughed before pulling off. You weren't able to get very far before your stomach began burning like molten hot lava in your organs.

You whimpered, holding your stomach in pain. The sound caught the older Winchester's attention as he began shaking you and saying something you couldn't make out.

But what you could make out were the flashing images in your head. Blood and fire. It was everywhere like a massacre.

When the images went away the pain faded slightly and you were finally able to say “Dean, go back, we have to go back.” the look in your eyes must've scared him because he didn't waste any time swerving the car around.

When you got back to sams apartment it was already on fire and before the vehicle was stopped you were out ant running towards it

Dean wasn’t far behind you and it didn’t take any time for you to reach his apartment, Dean kicked down the door and you both ran in. Sam was on his bed staring up at the ceiling in shock shouting Jess's name.

As much as you wished you could save the girl she was already gone so you and Dean dragged Sam out of the apartment, it wasn’t an easy fight given Sam’s height and strength but you did it nonetheless.

However getting Sam out didn’t stop the burning feeling in your stomach, the ambulance arrived on the scene officially announcing Jessica dead, and you saw the emotion drain from Sam’s face, it was as if a switch flipped inside of him, he walked off leaving you with Dean.

You looked at the older Winchester with teary eyes “Dean you have to take me home. Please.” You begged. Dean looked at you with sorrow as if he already knew. You both knew what it meant but you wouldn’t believe it. No you wouldn’t accept it. He saw the inner turmoil in your eyes and nodded “okay, let’s go.” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

He led you back to the car where Sam had been putting a shotgun together with tears in his eyes. He looked at you then Dean, before shaking his head, throwing the gun back into the trunk. “We got work to do”

On the drive Dean quietly filled Sam in on what happened with you, though you weren’t too sure he was listening. You weren’t listening either, you were busy calling Jason’s phone over and over and over.

Every time the call went to voicemail the burning sensation got worse. When Dean parked outside of your apartment building you wasted no time getting out.

You heard both of their doors open as well and Dean called your name. You turned around to look at him, eye’s nothing but teary. “You want us to come with?” He asked. You looked between him and Sam, who looked like he couldn’t handle much more tonight.

You shook your head not trusting your voice enough to speak. Dean nodded “we’ll be right here if you need us” he said. You nodded, before turning around and continuing your walk.

The whole way to your apartment you held your new knife in your hand, when you reached your door you paused, not sure if you really wanted to enter, however you pushed the feeling down and opened the door.

Immediately the smell of blood hit you, the metallic smell seemed so strong it almost gave you a headache. Tears began to freely fall down your face when you saw the puddle of blood leaking from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Carefully you stepped over the pool of blood and walked further in, that’s when you saw him. He was on the floor, his face bruised and neck slashed.

Your heart shattered, and you began to hyperventilate as you dropped to your knees, not caring anymore about his blood staining your clothes.

You placed a soft hand on his face, it was still warm and your tears dripped onto his cheeks “please, Jason please im sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left. I could've protected you. I'm so sorry” you sobbed.

The longer you looked at him the more it hurt. You began to shiver from the feeling of your clothes soaked with his blood and the heartbreak that was crushing your chest.

But you didn’t care “no, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen to you.” You laid your head against his chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat.

But it was silent. Your sobs filled the air around you, until you heard footsteps enter the apartment.

You picked up the previously discarded knife with shaky unstable hands ready to fight whoever, but it was just Sam and Dean.

You saw Dean first, he stopped in shock and Sam wasn’t far behind. They took in the scene, your bruised bleeding boyfriend, and your completely broken state.

You seemed to be covered in his blood which made it worse. Neither of the brothers knew what to say or do and Sam looked on the verge of crying again too.

Dean moved to pick you up out of the bloody mess until he saw bloody writing on the wall ‘you were too late’.

Sam saw what his brother was looking at,and you turned to see. The bloody letters dripped down the wall as if it was still fresh.

Dean shook his head, picking you up from the ground. You hardly made any effort to fight him off and Dean thanked God for it because even though you were now a grown woman, he still saw you as that little girl he always protected. And you need that now more than ever.

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supernotnatural2005 · 1 month ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Chapter Two

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a drunken mistake comes a surprising turn of events the morning after. With a helpful push from your best friend, will you finally stop second guessing yourself for once? Will you finally take the risk with your heart?

Word Count: 2.7K

AN: Hey guys! It's finally here, part 2 of The Meet Cute. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I really wanted to make a return to this story worth it. (I hope I've done so lol) and hopefully you'll be pleased to know, there will be more to this story, possibly another chapter or 2 👀

Warnings: FLUFF! Swearing, some self-doubt, not much else.

Tagging: @zepskies , @kr804573 , @roseblue373

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding in your head. It was as if a marching band had set up camp in your skull, playing the world’s worst rendition of a pop hit on repeat. The second thing you noticed was the light streaming through the curtains—way too bright for the morning after regrettable amounts of alcohol consumed the night before. You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head to escape the merciless sunlight.

Snippets of the previous night began to filter through the fog in your mind: drinking at the bar, Dean’s cocky smirk, Matty ranting about “all the hot ones being straight” after learning about Sam’s fiancé, and...dancing? You groaned again. You vaguely remembered Dean’s hands on your waist, his laughter mixing with yours as the two of you spun around on the dance floor.

You rubbed your temples and turned over, trying to piece it all together and froze. There was someone in bed with you.

Your heart stopped as you stared at the silhouette next to you under the blanket. Broad shoulders, messy hair, the faintest hint of stubble visible on the face buried in the pillow. Oh god. Oh no.

Your stomach churned as you tried to remember more. Did you and Dean—? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk. Were you?

“Please don’t be Dean. Please don’t be Dean,” you whispered to yourself, panic mounting. Summoning all your courage, you reached out a shaky hand and poked the figure in the arm.

“Mmmf,” came the groggy response, followed by a voice that was far too familiar. “What are you doing?”

You ripped the blanket off the figure and came face to face with a very dishevelled, very sleepy Matty. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Matty!” You yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming.

Your best friend popped his head out from under the covers, hair sticking up in about twelve directions. He squinted at you. “Why are you yelling? I’m hungover, too, you know.”

“Why are you in my bed?!”

“Because I’m a saint,” he said, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “You were freaking out about ‘doing something dumb,’ so I stayed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, relief giving way to irritation. “You couldn’t have stayed on the couch.”

“Do I look like a couch person to you?” He scoffed, giving you an offended look.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What happened last night? And why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”

Matty propped himself up on his elbows, his grin way too smug for someone in his condition. “Well, let’s see. You had a very friendly dance marathon with Dean—who, by the way, was very into you—and then, when your legs gave out, he carried you back to your room like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Your face was on fire by this point. “Please tell me that’s all.”

“That’s all I saw,” he said innocently. “But who knows what Dean was thinking about?”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him square in the face.

Matty laughed and ducked away before adding, “Oh, and by the way, we’re all getting lunch together.” He said nonchalantly and paused as he checked the time on his phone. “In about two hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Matty said with a wink. “Dean was all for it, but I figured you’d try to hide from him out of sheer awkwardness. This is me, as your best friend, forcing you to take a chance for once.”

“I—Matty, why?!” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Because you,” he said, poking your shoulder, “are a chronic avoider, and I, as your very wise and selfless friend, refuse to let you sabotage yourself. Dean’s hot and clearly into you. You’d be stupid not to at least try, even if it’s just some fun.”

Your stomach churned again—this time from nerves. “But he’s way out of league.” You tried to reason, and Matty rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Bitch, please.” Matty sassed, making you raise a brow at him. “You’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, and you planned a wedding that people are going to talk about for years. If Dean doesn’t see that, he’s blind. Now get up and get ready. Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’”

You stared at him. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” Matty said with a grin. “And you’re about to pull it off. You’re welcome.”

As he strolled out of the room, you flopped back onto the bed, nerves tangling with excitement. Matty might be meddlesome, but he was also usually right. Maybe it was time to take a risk. After all, it’s not like you had to marry the guy. What was the worst that could happen?

It was nearing 12 o'clock by the time you made your way downstairs to the little restaurant at the other end of the venue. Your sister was still indisposed; she too had had a wild night, and you left a message for her to meet you when she was feeling “alive” so you could see her off before her honeymoon trip to the Maldives.

Lucky.

The walk to the restaurant was simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. Apparently, Dean had gotten your number at some point last night when you received a text from him not long after you finally got out of bed, reconfirming these so-called ‘lunch plans’ Matty had made.

The latter man strolled beside you, looking far too pleased with himself, while you mentally picked apart every detail of your outfit. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at your closet, replaying Matty’s words: “Wear something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly perfect but also fun to be around.’” How could an outfit say all that?

You eventually landed on a soft sundress in a colour that complimented your skin tone, paired with sandals that were cute but practical. “Effortlessly perfect” turned out to be very effortful, and “fun to be around” was apparently a leather satchel bag with tassels.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked Matty for the seventh time as you tugged at the hem of your dress.

Matty gave you a once-over and smirked. “You look great. Very, ‘Oops, I woke up like this, but let’s drink mimosas and talk about art.’”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“Not as much as you’ll hate yourself if you mess this up,” he shot back, opening the door to the restaurant for you with an exaggerated bow.

“Now, go be charming.”

Inside, Dean and Sam were already seated, looking annoyingly perfect. Sam had an air of quiet confidence as he sipped from a mug. Dean, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” Dean called, standing to greet you both. “You look beautiful.”

The blush hit you before you could stop it.

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” In fact, he looked amazing. Instead of the black suit you’d seen him in last night, he was clad in a dark maroon flannel that accentuated those broad shoulders you’d had the pleasure of hanging onto last night, and some dark-wash jeans that showed off his long and slightly bowed legs.

Dean stepped closer, his green eyes sparkling as he leaned down and kissed your cheek. You had to hide your surprise with a clearing of your throat and a polite smile. Beside you, Matty muttered, “Smooth,” under his breath, and you fought against jabbing your elbow into his side. Why was this a good idea again?

“Matty,” Sam greeted with a polite nod, clearly still wary after last night’s shenanigans.

“Sammy,” Matty said brightly, taking the seat across from him in the booth and leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Miss me?”

Sam shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Matty quipped, and you rolled your eyes at the two of them before sitting across from Dean, who looked entirely too amused by the dynamic. Before any more conversations could flow, a server came over with a fresh pot of coffee for your table, and you thanked her gratefully.

“So,” Dean said, resting his forearms on the table as he focused on you, “did you survive the hangover?”

“Barely,” you admitted with a laugh, stirring into your coffee your usual amount of sugar and creamer. “Thanks for, you know, last night. For carrying me to my room. I’m honestly mortified you had to even do that.” You chuckled, heavily embarrassed. Dean didn’t seem to mind though as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t be. I had a great time.” He grinned wide and genuine, eyes shining with something unspoken.

“Well, I appreciate it either way.” You mumbled shyly. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flip, and you looked down at your cup, fiddling with the rim nervously. Why is he even interested? Whispered the insecurities you fought to ignore. Made more difficult without the help of your good friend, Jameson.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice softened, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Still shaking off the whisky haze.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but didn’t press you.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sam asked curiously, and Matty piped up before you could, taking charge of the storytelling, as per usual.

“Well, it’s a tale for the ages.”He started rather dramatically, really putting his 3 months of drama school to use.

“Picture it: college orientation day. I’m walking across campus, radiating my usual charm, when suddenly—bam! Y/N crashes into me, spilling an entire tray of cafeteria tacos all over the both of us.”

Your cheeks burnt as Dean and Sam stifled laughter. “That is not how it happened!”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matty countered, grinning wickedly. “And then—because she felt so bad—she tried to help clean me up but slipped in some of the taco sauce, nearly taking us both out.”

“I didn’t slip,” you protested, laughing despite yourself. “And it was nachos, not tacos.”

“Details,” Matty said with a dismissive wave. “The point is, it was fate. She looked up at me, covered in salsa and regret, and I thought, ‘This girl is going to make my life infinitely more interesting.’”

Dean chuckled, and his gaze softened as he looked at you, as if he could relate, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s a pretty solid start to a friendship.” Sam nodded through his amusement.

And you shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess if someone’s willing to stick around after that kind of first impression, they’re worth keeping around.”

Matty placed a hand over his heart. “You hear that? She kept me. Truly, I’m blessed.”

Dean laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by the nacho incident or by the fact that you’ve put up with him this long.”

“Neither,” you teased, sipping your coffee. “The real mystery is why he’s put up with me.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I think I can see why.” You looked away shyly, but you were unable to fight your smile.

“How about either of you? Any stories, and by stories I mean humiliating tales, to share?” Matty began stirring his coffee, just like he was the conversation.

"Well... there is one that springs to mind.” Sam teases, and Dean groans, already bracing himself.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to—”

“Oh, we do,” Sam and Matty interrupt simultaneously, making you giggle into your hand.

“How about accidentally signing up for a salsa dance class because someone thought it was a ‘salsa tasting’ event?” Sam informed with a jab of his thumb in Dean’s direction.

Matty’s eyes lit up as he nearly choked on his laughter. “Please tell me he actually went through with it.”

Sam nodded, his grin widening. “Oh, he did. The full two hours. By the end, the instructor gave him a ‘most improved’ sticker, which I think was more pity than praise.”

Dean shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I stand by it. A little footwork never hurt anyone.” He shot you a quick look. “Those skills aided me just fine last night.” Again you had to look away at his implication with a shy bite to your bottom lip. Memories of Dean’s talented footwork and moves around the dance floor flashing in your mind.

“Alright,” Matty announced, “before we continue, what’s everyone ordering? Because I, for one, need to eat for a family of four to recover from this morning.”

The conversation shifted, and for the next few minutes, you all ordered your food, the playful banter continuing. Your nervousness started to fade. The tension in your chest eased with every laugh Dean pulled from you. He was funny, easygoing, and had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Even when Sam joined in, adding his own dry humour to the mix, you felt more and more comfortable in their company.

Dean leaned in to ask you more questions about your life, and you’d told him how you’d found a niche for planning, event planning more specifically, and decided to make a career out of it. Dean seemed to hang onto every word, genuinely interested.

In turn you learnt more about his job as a mechanic and co-owner at his dad’s garage that specialised in classic cars, which you found to be incredibly impressive. And as you listened to him talk about his work, you noticed how his hands moved with confidence and ease, like he was describing something he was deeply passionate about.

You also learnt that both of them were fellow ‘Kansans.’ Whereas you resided in Topeka, Dean and Sam lived in Lawrence, and although it was only a town over, it explained why you hadn’t run into either of them beforehand.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The nervous energy that had been gnawing at your insides started to dissolve.

By the time the food arrived, you were laughing freely, engaging with everyone at the table, and… finding yourself feeling comfortable with Dean. It didn’t hurt that, with each passing moment, the way he looked at you felt more intense. Like he was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from the others.

After everyone had finished eating, Matty took it upon himself to grab the check—naturally. He reached for it with a dramatic flourish, blocking Dean’s hand.

“Absolutely not,” Matty declared. “This is on me. Consider it an investment.” He aimed the last words at you with a wink, and you looked at him incredulously.

When you all stood up to leave, the others moved on ahead, but Dean lingered by your side. You felt his presence, warm and easygoing beside you, and you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he slowed his pace to match yours, “any chance I can see you again sometime? Without the audience?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The sudden weight of the question hung in the air between you, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Everything about this felt a little surreal—like a moment that could go either way. But then Matty’s words echoed in your mind: ‘Don’t sabotage yourself.’

You took a breath, steadied your nerves, and smiled, a little shy but hopeful. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s grin widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as you thought. Maybe it was time to take the risk, to stop second-guessing yourself, and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Dean stepped a little closer, his hand brushing yours as you walked side by side toward the door. You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something worth the gamble.

AN: Okay, so how do we feel about the reunion between these two? And Matty's glorious input? 😂 He honestly is the best cheerleader! I hope you guys enjoyed this, let me know what you think and if you're excited for the proper date with Dean 👀

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters let me know.

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stusbunker · 4 months ago

Text

Spotless: Animato

Chapter Thirty Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Gibson Child OMC, Bobby, Annie, Victor, Charlie, both bands and roadies, nameless DJs

Word Count: 3160

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, the last of Uncle Dean for a while, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes (do not come at me for this), Kevin calling Dean out publicly but subtly.

Series Masterlist

The rapid beat of a double-stroke roll woke Dean from the haze of sleep. He cracked one eye open and found the source of the wake up call. Gibson, sitting on the floor in Dean’s suite, was wailing on the coffee table while watching a random infomercial on the hotel’s tv’s world class Sunday morning programming. At least the little dude hadn’t gotten into Dean’s guitars without asking.

“Gibby! What gives, man?”

“Oh, sorry,” the little boy didn’t even look back, instead he lightened his efforts into a tapping from the original knocking.

Dean huffed and fell back onto his pillow, muttering to himself and the ceiling, “I guess we’re up for the day.”

They had spent the night watching old monster movies and eating pizza. Dean had even taken Gibson to the hotel’s pool for a dip before the adult only hours kicked in. He had no idea how Pam and Lee kept up with the kid on a normal day, Dean was fucking beat. And that was after he slept more than double his usual night’s rest.

How was it after nine already?! No wonder the kid was bored.

“You hungry? Probably should see if the buffet’s still going,” Dean asked suddenly.

“Okay!” Gibson dropped his sticks on the coffee table and hopped up with the unbridled energy of youth.

“Yeah, uh, I gotta throw some real pants on, dude.” Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled his back. “Give Uncle Dean a minute and we can head down.”

Gibson nodded, but then ran to the counter in the kitchenette. “I made you coffee! They’ve got the little cups. But that was a while ago.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and surveyed the damage from his perch on the bed. “You make one for yourself?”

“Yep! It was gross. And the pink sugar didn’t help.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it is gross. White or brown are best— no matter what Uncle Sam says.”

Gibson giggled, walking carefully over to Dean with the paper cup sloshing slightly. Dean wanted to help him, but he looked so proud of himself that Dean just sat back and clenched his hands as he awaited the delivery.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean diligently took a sip. It was god awful. Cold, sure, but also really bitter and thin. Thankfully the kid didn’t think to add anything for him. He sighed and took another gulp while trying not to breathe and taste it more. “Uh—-yeah. Can’t start the day without some fuel.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, man, of course. Now, I am gonna get dressed, find your shoes so we can get some grub.”

Turned out, the continental breakfast was already being cleaned up when they got back downstairs. Gibson’s spirits dropped instantly, but Dean assured him it was alright, and took the little man over to the attached restaurant that was hopping with the brunch crowd.

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bobby’s voice caught Dean’s attention as they rounded the corner with the hostess. “Make room. Miss— these idjits are with us, sorry they don’t have any manners about showing up on time.”

“Alright, I’ll— uh, I’ll let your server know.”

Dean had the wherewithal to murmur and hand over his thanks and apologies right in time to get a surprised smile. Kevin and Annie were on Bobby’s right while Sam and a very hungover looking Victor filled out the left side of the six person table.

“Rough night?” Dean teased.

“It aint over yet,” Victor lamented.

“Ooof! Been there, man. More bacon’ll help.”

Just then their server returned with two extra chairs and a busser slid in two extra place settings for them. “Thank you— thank you both. Seriously.”

“Of course, let me get you some menus.” Then the server disappeared in a flurry, weaving through the crowd of people in various states of dress and sobriety.

Kevin nudged Gibson with his elbow. “How was the sleepover at Dean’s? I bet he snores.”

Everyone around the table laughed.

“Bite me, Kev. Gibby, steal me one of his fries would ya?”

Gibson looked back and forth between the two men. “What?! No.”

Dean just shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“Two wrongs don’t make it alright,” Gibson told him knowingly.

“Yeah, UNCLE DEAN,” Sam butted in.

“From the mouths of babes,” Annie said, shaking her head in amusement.

Kevin just laughed and took an obnoxious Dean-sized bite of fries.

“So— last day on tour until school’s out, what do you want to do today?” Bobby asked the star of the table.

“Is Mom and Dad awake? I want to see them ‘fore Grammy comes and gets me.”

“And you will, dude. I’m guessing they’re just up in their rooms getting dressed or something. It’s still early yet.”

“What timezone are you in?!” Bobby gave Dean the stink eye.

Dean ignored his manager and just ruffled Gibson’s hair. The menus appeared and they all settled in for another hour of each other’s company.

Dean knew it had to be hard for Gibson when they were on tour, he’d lived his own childhood with his dad barely there. But to have both parents out of reach for months at a time seemed worse. That’s why they made sure to give Pam and Lee breaks on the road, fly them home for three days at a time when they could. And they let Gibson come along when he didn’t have school.

It still felt like a worse case scenario though. He didn’t even have a little brother to make the days go by faster. Lee’s mom and their nanny were all he had outside of school friends. And the dogs. At least the kid got pets too.

Dean never did.

“Full House, bitches!” Charlie declared and threw her cards into the center of the table. “Jacks over twos.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Madison exclaimed, leaning in to inspect Charlie’s hand herself. She’d tagged along with Lee’s mom down to San Diego so she could join in on the Vegas leg of the trip.

“She always pulls it out, I swear to god. I don’t know how, but she does,” Sam muttered and tossed his hand to Dean to shuffle for the next round.

They were an hour into the trip to Vegas and the mood on the bus was contagious. No more little ears and eyes to worry about, meant that the bottles and the bongs came out and the chips were stacked high across the tiny table.

“Alright, alright, fair hand. Get your cards in, and maybe you can win some of them stacks back. If you’re lucky,” Dean taunted, collecting the rest of cards and sliding them back into a deck to be shuffled. “Trouble? Ante up.”

You tossed your share into the pot and took another sip of your drink. Dean felt your eyes on him as he dealt, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Technically, he knew everyone was watching him as he doled the next hand, but your attention felt heavier the last few days. Maybe you knew something he wasn’t ready for you to know.

Maybe you were waiting for him to fuck up again.

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking and you weren’t really watching him at all. Either way, he was preoccupied with it all when he picked up his cards to find absolute trash.

“Oh Christ. I’m going to need more to drink. KEVIN! Another round of shots, if you don’t mind?”

You chuckled. “Dealer can’t deal to himself, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Dean muttered, not even bothering to pick up his cards again.

“More chances for the rest of us at least,” Madison pointed out and placed her call bet.

The afternoon turned into night while Bobby drove on. Games and ridiculousness ensued. Just when they stopped for dinner, Dean found himself in the playful overlap of drunk and stoned.

He hummed a few bars of some pop number that was playing over the truckstop speakers and Kevin joined in in harmony as they trudged across the parking lot to the twenty four hour diner. Lee came in for the chorus and they started getting louder and sillier with it, doing the monkey walk with Dean in the middle of the two shorter guys.

Dean couldn’t hear the radio station any longer, but they carried it along, finishing the number strong while guessing at some of the lyrics. When everyone had reached the double doors of the restaurant, he caught you and Charlie with your phones up recording the shenanigans. Meanwhile, Sam and Madison were giggly, leaning a little heavier on one another than most people would be at just after seven at night.

“Alright, cool it you damn buffoons. Let’s see if they’ve got room for everyone,” Bobby grunted before disappearing inside.

“Looks like you guys are the fun bus!” Donna greeted, as SPS and company caught up with them.

“Just gettin’ started darlin’,” Dean drawled, nodding and smirking. “Though I doubt it’s all charades and crochet on Big Bertha over there either.”

Jody took a swig off of her flask. “Oh, fuck no. Nancy knits, but that’s about it. But that’s only when the Adderall kicks in.”

She dangled the metal bottle out towards the circle of waiting musicians in offering. Kevin and Pam both took a pull and passed it back. Then the equipment rig pulled in and the headcount shot up even more. Benny sauntered over with a knowing glint in his eye as he stepped right in between Dean and Donna.

“We think we gettin’ in or gotta spread out to the fast food joints?”

“Hard to say, looks pretty dead in there, but that might mean there’s a small staff too,” you answered as everyone’s head craned to look inside.

“Alright, well I’m heading over to the cancer section until we hear one way or the other,” Jody nodded towards Annie and Patience smoking down the sidewalk.

Dean perked up and followed her like an earnest puppy. He wasn’t a habitual smoker anymore, but he definitely still imbibed, especially on the road. Sam’s influence could only go so far. But oddly, you were trailing along behind him, followed by Jesse and a newer, yet awkward roadie that he’d only heard called Chief.

You actually pulled a pack out of your purse and held one out to Dean expectingly. “What?” you asked like an accusation.

“Are you just smoking because you’d knew I would be or—?”

You exhaled your first pull and offered him your lighter. “It’s been a fucking week, okay? Let me have this until we hit the states with actual vegetation and I have to deal with allergies too.”

Dean lit his cigarette nodding and blew out a smoke ring. “You don’t have to justify it to me, I was just checking I’m not the bad influence.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always a bad influence, doesn’t mean I still didn’t choose it.”

That got him a little hot, if he was being honest. And he felt his smile all the way to the tips of his ears. “Damn, Trouble. Always knocking me back on my heels, you know that?”

You took another drag and shrugged, looking around to see everyone else somehow in their own conversations. “Part of the job.”

“Nah, that parts all you.” Dean said without even meaning to.

You looked up at him and gave him a little squint. “You need to eat something or you’re gonna be miserable in a couple hours.”

“I’m trying!” He huffed, gesturing with his cigarette towards the front doors, right as Bobby made his glorious return.

“Listen up!” Bobby glanced around at the bands and accumulated crew. “They’ve only got room for thirty folks, so line up and whoever is stuck at the back’s gotta find something else. We’re pulling out of here no later than ten o’clock, so be on time or be left behind.”

You chuckled over the hard-learned line.

Dean sucked a deep pull off his cigarette, trying to speed through it and getting lightheaded in the process.

“Uh,” he exhaled and looked over at you then over you towards the rest of businesses in the travel center. “We trying to get in or we taking a walk?”

“I’m finishing my square.” You pointed to yourself and held up your cigarette.

Dean couldn’t get over your sass tonight. “Alright, then. A walk it is.”

It ended up with Jody and Patience sticking around while you and Dean finished smoking and then all four of you headed to the Arby’s across the parking lot.

“Alright, folks, we got a quick segment at the end to wrap things up. Phantom Traveler, are you ready to ‘Hit It or Quit It’?” the gruffer DJ asked them from his chair across the room.

They barely all fit in the little sound booth, but managed to squeeze together to make it work. Lee, Pam and Kevin were on the three stools they provided, while Dean and Sam hovered over them to get at the shared mic. It was six o’clock in the morning and Dean didn’t know if any of them had even slept. But there they were anyway.

“It is five questions we ask in rapid succession and you just say the first thing that comes to mind. And since all five of you are here, we’ll just go down the line— or clockwise I guess,” the younger DJ explained.

“I’m game!” Dean exclaimed, futsing with the ball cap on his head.

Pamela, who was holding the mic, winked. “Let’s hear ‘em, boys.”

The DJs laughed. “Alright, Pamela’s ready. First question: Who’s got the craziest ex’s of the band?”

Everyone ‘Oh’d!’.

Lee leaned in and said deeply into the mic. “I’m sitting right here!”

“Couldn’t have planned that one any better!” Dean teased.

“Wait! I want to hear the answer though!” Kevin butted in, steering them back on track.

“NEW KID doesn’t know these things yet!” The first DJ said excitedly.

“Oh, this is too easy, though,” Pam rumbled.

“Yeah, sorry, bro, everyone knows this one,” Dean tacked on.

“Eat me,” Sam snapped back.

“But yeah, it’s Sammy for sure,” Lee agreed.

Sam rolled his eyes but the DJs just ate it up.

“Okay! Second question is—- for—- Lee! Favorite venue you’ve ever played?”

“Seriously? He gets a real question and I got a Cosmo question?” Pamela said, annoyed, but not quite into the mic.

“Seriously— I’m just reading off the list,” the younger DJ promised, holding up a clip board.

“That one’s easy— Harvelle’s back home.”

“Hands down,” Sam agreed.

“Best burgers in Nebraska, too,” Dean tacked on.

“Ellen’s gonna kill you,” Pam warned.

“Totally worth it,” Dean shot her down.

“Yeah. Nothing like playing for your hometown,” Lee finished.

“What a bunch of saps!” The older guy teased. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have it. Sam— third question: Who would you still like to collaborate with? You’ve got Annie Hawkins on the latest album, you’ve played with some of the greats at some special events— I know you all were close with the late, great Rufus Turner and now you’re touring with his granddaughter’s band Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries. Who else?”

“Uh, honestly? I’d kill to play with Sarah and Provenance, even though our sounds are totally different. Maybe Mick Davies? Especially now that he’s left Men of Letters, I am looking forward to what he works on next.”

“Wow— those are not names I expected to come up today. But, yeah, okay— always the wildcard Sam Winchester!” The younger DJ seemed genuinely surprised and maybe even impressed.

Dean could tell it annoyed Sam, but he was always way smarter than anybody gave his bodybuilder-shaped self credit for.

“DEAN! Question numero four: If you weren’t a rockstar— okay, musician– what would you be doing?”

“Right now I’d be sleeping, that’s for damn sure.”

Everyone laughed and nodded. “I don’t blame you there, but for a job?”

Dean scratched his three day stubble. “I always say I’d have made a killer mechanic or car restorer, but, uh, honestly at this point in my life I’m going to go with firefighter.”

“Nice, very heroic.” The first DJ approved.

“Dude!” Sam gave him a look that asked if he was alright.

Dean shrugged. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Just a reminder we’ve got two shows at Cesar’s Palace tomorrow night and Wednesday!” he plugged like they needed help selling tickets.

“Which are completely sold out! We’ve got tickets for our listeners tomorrow morning at seven, eight and nine if you listen for the code to play.” The younger DJ picked up where Dean left off. “One more question and you guys can get on with your days. And it’s for Kevin Tran— the newest member of the band, stepping up for the now reclusive Cas Novak. Fifth and final question!---”

Dean flinched at Cas’ name coming up, but all things considered, it could have been a much more brutal comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby whisper something to you through the glass in the adjoining room.

“In one word describe your bandmates.”

“One word total or—?”

“One word a piece,” Sam clarified.

“Yeah one word total. Band. That’d be the worst question answered ever,” the first DJ joked.

“Okay, okay, I got it. For Pam I’ll say ‘badass’. Lee’s word will be ‘groovy’. Sam gets ‘salad’ and Dean can have ‘Trouble’.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lee actually had to cover his mouth. While everyone else just about choked on their own spit.

Dean glared at the kid, but didn’t say anything, counting down from twenty in his head.

“It is going to be a very long tour, folks,” Sam tried to ease some of the tension, clearly the DJs did not get the significance of what was just said.

“Alright that is a wrap with Phantom Traveler, in town for just a few days on the start of their latest tour. Thank you guys, it was a blast. Their fifth album drops next month. You guys have been digging the new single, so we’re gonna close with that as we get these guys on their way.”

The intro to ‘Baby’ played in the background as everyone handed over their headphones and shook the DJs' hands. Their marketing people came in for some quick publicity shots. Dean spotted you getting matching angles, where you stood behind their photographer, for the band’s socials.

God, he wasn’t ready. He had no idea if you caught what Kevin had said or if you knew he was really talking about you. The little punk had to go and say that shit on air of all places.

One thing was for sure, Dean’s time was running out. Sooner or later somebody was going to let it slip and it wasn’t fair to you to hear it from anyone but him. Now, he just had to figure out how.

Tagging:

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@spxideyver

Chapter 35: Cambiare

#spotless series #dean/reader #dean x you #slow burn #rockstar!dean #rockstar au #friends to lovers #pining #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfic au series #spn au

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uhohnotthisagain · 11 months ago

Text

What they didn’t see

Summary: Just your classic friends to lovers with some good old fashioned angst.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Vampire

Warnings: mention of injury, angst, pining, fighting, weapons, swearing.

Word count: 2.0k

a/n: Enjoy, I hope it’s ok x

My masterlist

“Hey.” You walk into the motel room with two bags full of food. “I’ve got dinner.”

“Oh my god, you’re amazing.” Dean rushes towards you to grab the bags. “Did you get any -” “Yea, it's in this bag.” You point to the bag with the pie in it, sitting down on the couch next to Sam as Dean grabs a chair to sit opposite the two of you. Sam smirked at the pink tint that had appeared on your face.

As the three of you dig in, you can’t help but admire Dean as he devours his burger before moving on to the pie. What most people would find disgusting, watching his messily eat his food, you found it oddly pleasing. Sam nudges you, and when you turn to look at him, all he does is smirk, prompting you to roll your eyes at him before focusing on your own burger.

You had known the Winchester’s for years. Your father and John used to hunt together, leaving the three of you at the motel. When your father was killed by a vampire, it made sense for you to stay with them, seeing as you had no where else to go. As you grew up, feelings towards Dean began to grow, but you pushed them away. He only ever saw you as a little sister anyway. Nothing was ever going to happen.

“I think we should head out early tomorrow, I think there’s a potential case a few states over. It’ll be a days drive so lets turn in early.” Dean says as he finishes up. “I call first shower.”

As the bathroom door shuts, Sam starts chucklying. “Shut up!” You whisper to him, shoving him nonchalantly. “Oh come on. I’m shocked he still hasn’t noticed. You’re so obvious.”

You roll your eyes. “No I’m not. But even if I am, he doesn’t care about me like that. Nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Sure.” It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

–

“Dean, please can you just shut the music off for 5 minutes? I’m trying to concentrate.” Sam practically yells over the music that Dean is blasting. “What? I can’t hear you over the music.” You roll your eyes and shake your head at the two of them, going back to your own research on the case.

Sam reaches forward to turn the music down enough so he can be heard, Dean slapping his hand in the process. “By the looks of it, I think its a vampire nest. Not two many killings at once so shouldn’t be a huge nest, no more than 5 or 6.” You nodded, finalising the readings you had occupied yourself with before closing the lore book. You stared out the window, nodding along to the music that filled the otherwise silent Impala.

While you were watching the trees run past, Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He tried to avoid lingering, quickly turning his gaze back to the road in front.

In a few short hours, you had arrived to a motel. Dean handed you your bag, whispering a soft “Thank you.” at the gesture, which Dean responded with a small smile.

As you walked in, you noticed that there were only two beds, no pull out couch which was often where you slept. “I am not dealing with your flailing about tonight, Y/N.” Sam says, looking at you with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind the occasional kicking. Sleep next to me.” Dean calls from behind you. Your eyes widen at the realization that you’re going to have to sleep next to Dean. You hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in years, often opting for the sofa or next to Sam.

As you got ready in the bathroom, you took a deep breath as you prepared yourself. “You can do this, it’s one night.” You whispered to yourself, turning to open the door and head to bed. Dean was already in bed, sat up with headphones on, eyes closed and nodding to the beat of whatever music he was listening. You crawled into the other side of the bed, facing away from Dean, closest to the edge. You quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping you didn’t end up kicking or bothering Dean in anyway.

You woke up in the same position, however seemingly closer to the middle of the bed. An arm was draped across your waist. Dean.

It suddenly dawned on you that it was his arm around you, holding you in place. You gently picked up his arm, climbed out of bed and placed in onto a pillow, hoping it wouldn’t disturb his sleep.

The door opened and Sam walked through, having just come back from his run.

“Hey.” You smiled in return, collecting your things to get ready for the day. “I figured we can scope out where the nest is this morning, and get ready to attack just after dark.” Sam suggests. “Sounds good.”

Dean starts stirring, rolling over in bed. You rush to the bathroom, hoping to avoid an interaction just yet. You hear them talking as you have your shower, but you ignore them, focusing on the water falling down your body.

“So how was last night?” Sam smirked at me. “Shut up.” Dean responds, rubbing his face as he sits up in bed. “I did that for you, you know.”

“What? Have her sleep next to me? She’s not even interested. I don’t see why I have to be tortured with it.” Dean grumbles.

“Bullshit, she’s in love with you.” Dean rolls his eyes, “She snuck out of bed. She couldn’t even stand to talk to me this morning. There is no way on earth she likes me as anything more than a friend. Barely that even.”

“Dean, you do not see what I do.” Sam scoffs. “It’s obvious that you both love each other, why neither of you have made a move? I have no idea.”

Dean just brushes him off, getting up and stretching.

After you're dressed, you walk out of the bathroom, which Sam quickly takes custody of as soon as he sees you. “Gonna have a shower now.”

“Morning.” You say softly to Dean, who responds only with a grunt, still waking up. “I’m going to go grab breakfast and coffee, any requests?” You offer.

“Just the usual.” Dean responds. You nod, grabbing a key a walking out the door.

Later, after you’ve scoped out the nest and feel ready to attack, the three of you are parked outside the warehouse where they’re located.

“Right, let’s go in and split up, we’ll get them quicker that way. Be safe everyone.” Dean says before heading towards the entrance, you and Sam quickly in tow.

The fight began almost immediately. There were more vampires than you thought, at every turn, a vampire was charging towards you.

You swung the knife every which way you could with all your strength. You could hear Sam and Dean fighting more in other areas of the building.

Finally, it seemed that you had gotten them all. You went to check on Sam and Dean. As you turned a corner, before you could even react properly, another vampire charged at you. He lunged at you, causing you to drop your knife.

You screamed as he threw you against the wall, walking towards you as you lay on the ground.

“I will kill you for what you and your little friends did.” He picked you up and threw you against the wall behind him, hitting your head hard against the concrete floor as you landed. You groaned in pain, unable to fight any more.

“Y/N!” You heard someone yell. The room was spinning and you couldn’t find the strength to stand up. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The vampire had its hand around your throat, fangs out ready to unleash his final attack.

The weight on your body was pulled off, and you could finally breathe, but you couldn’t move. You heard one final scream before silence, and then footsteps hurriedly running towards you.

“Y/N? Shit Y/N can you hear me? It’s ok baby we’re here, we’ve got you.” You groaned in response, before everything went black.

“Fuck, she passed out. Sammy, go start the car, quick.” Sam runs out to the car as Dean picks you up and carries you out.

Once in the car, he’s looking all over, trying to find all of your injuries to see if he could fix anything.

At the motel, he lays you down on the bed whilst Sam grabs the first aid kit, cleaning up any wounds that can be fixed.

“Sammy what do we do. She’s not waking up.” Dean has tears in his eyes. Sam puts two fingers on the side of your neck.

“She still has a strong pulse, she’s going to be ok. She’s breathing, just knocked out hard.” Dean’s holding your hand the entire time, refusing to look away from your battered and bruised, yet still unbelievably beautiful face.

“I haven’t told her. I didn’t tell her how I feel. What happens if she doesn’t wake up?”

Sam pats his brothers shoulder, “She’s going to wake up. She will be ok. Both of you will be.”

What seemed like days, was really only a few hours later, you started to wake up. You opened your eyes and looked around at your surroundings. You spot Sam laying in his bed, asleep. You look down at your hand, in a tight grip in Dean’s hand. He was asleep too, next to you. He was on top of the covers, still in his blood-soaked clothes and shoes.

As you moved, you groaned, feel sharp pain in your head. “Fuck that kills.”

Dean wakes up startled, feeling movement coming from you. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He whispers. “Like I got hit by a truck, train and car simultaneously.” You respond.

He lets out a small chuckle, thumb running over the back of your hand.

“I know it’s really bad timing but can I talk to you?” He asks. You nod, smiling as encouragement to keep going.

“Um, so the thing is, I, um.” He lets out a breath, now sitting up to look down at you. “I like you, a lot. And it’s ok if you don’t like me back. I thought I could keep it to myself, I thought it was just a stupid thing that would go away. But it hasn’t. And seeing you tonight, all beat up and unconscious. It scared me. I thought I might’ve lost you. And I just needed you to know. You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t have to change anything, we can stay friends. Or you can leave, it’s up to-“

You place a hand on his cheek, leaning up to press a small peck on his lips. Testing the waters. As you pull away, he follows you, reconnecting your lips. This time, in a much deeper, more passionate kiss. One full of longing, and desperation. You could feel your lungs burn, but couldn’t seem to care, kneading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The one hand not holding his up is resting on your hip.

When you finally pull away for a breath, you stare into his eyes. “I like you too, like a lot.” He sighs. “Really? Are you sure.”

You giggle, “Beyond sure.” You press one final kiss to his lips before settling down, resting your head on his shoulder, arm around his waist while his is wrapped around you, hand on your waist while the other one is playing with the ends of you hair.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel warm, content. Taking a deep breath in, you see that you and Dean are in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Thank fuck!” You look to see Sam smiling at the two of you.”It’s about fucking time.” You flip him off, settling back down to lay with Dean some more before you had to get up.

“How are you feeling?” You hear Dean whisper. You look up at him. “I’m ok. Still in pain but it’s better.”

“Good. We’ll let you rest up a bit before getting back out there. I’m glad you’re ok.” He kisses your forehead. “Yeah me too.” You smile up at him.

#dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagines #dean x reader #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester #sam #sam winchester #friends to lovers #supernatural x reader #supernatural angst #dean angst

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samwinchesterswifu · 5 months ago

Text

Two Out of Three Aint Bad ( Sam Winchester x Reader Angst)

Before Season 5

Song Inspo: "Two Out of Three Aint Bad" by Meat Loaf

Warnings: Just your a-typical sammy sulking and angst.

MINORS DNI

A/N: Just a sad lil one for the time being <3

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Sam's trying to move on after jess, but what if he isnt 100% sure?

She climbs out the Impala and slams the door the behind her. Earning a yelp from Dean in protest, but she doesn’t listen to the man. Begrudgingly ignoring the amount of pain she was in she storms into the motels rental office. She slams down her credit card on the counter of the rental office and the clerk sends her an annoyed glare. Shaking her head she asks for a basic room. The clerk nods at her request, swipes the credit card, and hands her the key.

“Room 42,” the clerk spats out.

She thanks the clerk under her breath and begins to make her way to the door of the office as the boys enter.

“Did you get a room for us?” Dean asks.

She shakes her head no at his question and pushes past them. As she’s exiting the door, she could hear a distinct scoff leave Sam which fuels the angry lit fire of her stomach higher. This man had some damn nerve.

She makes her way to her single bed room. Slamming the door behind her and throws her duffle bag on to the bed. She stops for a second and takes a deep breath. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and her pain was starting to overcome every sensation. Unzipping the bag, she grabs the bottle of ibuprofen that sat on top. Opening the cap, she takes 3 out and heads towards the small kitchenette. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she fills it up with water from the sink and proceeds to take the pain pills.

Putting down the glass in the sink she moves to stretch her shoulders. Hissing at the sharp sensation of pain on her right shoulder. She groans at the thought of having to fix herself up, but a knock on the door pulls her out her thoughts. Hesitant at first, another knock sounds and Sam makes his presence known.

She gulps in frustration and walks to the door. She opens it for Sam, and ignores his greeting as she sits down on the bed facing the bathroom. She pulls her right arm out the sleeve of her shirt exposing the gash on her shoulder for Sam to stitch. Sam sighs behind her. She watches him from the corner of her eye sit down the medical kit beside her and he takes out the necessary tools.

“This is gunna sting,” he whispers. She nods in acknowledgement.

Sam begins to clean the gash with a few alcohol pads. The occasional swipe makes her hiss but it was manageable. Shortly after, Sam starts to stitch the gash close. The two of them sat in silence the entire process, and all she wanted to do was turn around, and punch the man in the face. She was so angry with him for the earlier hunt, and he seemed completely oblivious by his actions as he always does.

Sam finishes up then goes to wash his hands in her bathroom. She slips her arm back into her shirt carefully, then proceeds to packs up Sam’s kit for him as he makes his way back to the main room.

The two of them stand in front of each other not saying anything. She didn’t really know what to say to him. She knew why he did what he did, but it was still frustrating every time he did it.

It was supposed to be a simple Vamp hunt in Ohio. They had tracked a rogue that had a falling out from his pack and was angry killing at his circumstances. They had tracked him down to the abandoned barn he was staying in. She had made herself known to the Vamp as a way to lure him from his hiding spot. She was ready to go in for the kill, when he lunged at her and Sam pushed her to the side. Killing the Vamp himself instead.

Sam sighs, and shakes his head at her. He walks past her and gets ready to leave her room when she speaks up.

“I was ready you know?” She whispers behind him. Earning another sigh from the tall man.

She turns around to face him as he does the same.

“I know, I know you are but I cant stand the thought of loosing you. He could’ve seriously hurt you!” By the end of Sams response, his voice was raised and she never appreciated raised voices during an argument.

“Damn it Sam! You gotta trust me at some point. I’ma fucking seasoned hunter for crying out loud!” She yells, matching his energy.

“I just cant-“ Sam starts to respond before stopping. She groans in annoyance as that was a typical deflecting thing he did.

“You cant what huh?” She spats, crossing her arms over her chest and challenges him.

“I cant loose you like Jess okay!” Sam spats out. Completely taken aback by his response.

“Sam-“ She calls out to him as her arms fall loosely from her chest.

“I cant. I just cant. I already lost one girl I was in love with and I’m trying to love you too but every time we do something stupid all I can think of is the night of the fire and-“

“Trying to love?” She questions him and Sam looks to her panickily.

“Yes. Trying to love.” Sam says and he shoves his hands deep into his pockets in embarrassment by his words.

“What does that even mean?” She asks still trying to connect the dots in her own head.

“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for quite a while now I think and I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to because Jess still sits so deep in me.” Sam whispers. He takes a peak up at her as his gaze was previously on the floor and she could see the tears welling on his lash line.

“Sammy,” she says quietly. She takes a few strides towards him. Keeping a few inches between them to allow him a chance to step back if he wanted to.

His gaze fixates back towards the floor. To counter him, she cuffs his cheek and raises his head to look at her. But he does take that step back.

“I need time-“ Sam starts before taking a deep breath.

“I need time to really figure out if this is love that I’m feeling or just protecting. I don’t want to screw this up again.” Sam finishes.

She nods at his response.

“I understand, but I’ll be here when youre ready. But please, next time we hunt, let me kill the damn thing.” She asks.

Sam lets a low chuckle escape his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers. Sam takes a step towards and places a tight kiss on her forehead. She smiles at the sensation.

“Goodnight.” Sam says looking into her eyes.

She smiles up and whispers goodnight in return. Sam turns to leave her room and she continues to stand by the door, completely baffled by the way things unfolded. It was clear that Sam wanted, or needed her. But she was unsure he if truly loved her. But hey, two out three aint bad.

#sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader angst #supernatural angst #sam winchester angst #sam winchester friends to lovers

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godmadeaterribleerror · 22 days ago

Text

Chapter 5 - It's Not Enough

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, angst, light smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh, kind of sick Dean? You'll see.

Summary/Warnings: You confront Dean, and the betterlust starts to become a problem. Usual Warnings, little extra angst.

Author's Note: Welcome to feelings town, USA, population 3 (Dean, Her, and us)

Chapter title from Untouched by The Veronicas

Word Count: 6.5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

You haven’t seen Sam in three days. He’d walked out of the garage and seemingly vanished, not present at dinner, or in the library, or the Dean Cave. You’d poked your head into his room the next morning, frowned around the empty space, and felt your heart almost stop when you’d realized his bag was gone. His bag, and gun, and phone, and—as you’d learned after shifting through his dressers—enough clothing for at least a week. Later, after you’d told Dean, you’d noticed that he’d taken one of your spare, stolen cars with him.

“I mean,” you’d run your hand over the roof of a disgustingly expensive Jaguar—stolen because you had been certain the owner wouldn’t miss it—and sighed. “At least I was right.”

When you’d turned to look at Dean—practically hovering over your body—he’d just been staring at you. You’d raised your brows and nudged his shoulder with yours, and he’d blinked like you’d just shaken him out of a dream.

“Right, uh,” He’d rubbed where you’d touched him, looking between you and the car. “Right about what?”

“The cars. I’d said they’d be useful, so me and Sam could drive without taking the impala.”

He’d chuckled. “Sure, Sweetheart.”

“I was right-“

“Hey,” Dean had raised his hands in surrender. “I said sure-“

“No, you said sure.” You drop your voice to mimic his tone, holding his innocent expression with a glare, and he shrugs.

“I’m not really seein’ the difference-“

You’d rolled your eyes and turned back to the car. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

He’d taken a step closer—suddenly pressed right against your back—and his voice had been low and gravely and wholly unhelpful in your ear. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t hear your own voice, Dean.” You’d mumbled, keeping all your attention on the glint of light off the paint. “I can. That’s your sure when you’re, um…”

You’d trialed off, and his hand had somehow moved to your chin, turning you to face him. “When I’m what.”

“Making fun of me?” You’d said it breathless, like a question, and Dean’s nostrils had flared.

“Well then.” He’d muttered, and you could’ve sworn he’d looked down at your lips. “Lemme make it clear, Sweetheart. I wasn’t makin’ fun, you were right. Real helpful.”

He’d lingered there for a second—long enough to make the air electric, long enough for you to wonder if this was just a really weird dream—then jerked back, leaving you a little hollow and sunken and bitter.

But he hadn’t left.

He wouldn’t leave.

You haven’t seen Sam since the garage. Dean didn’t seem worried—which was incredibly worrying within itself—and you know Sam’s a least alive, because he texted you twice a day.

Not dead. Back soon.

Tell me if Dean does anything weird.

You might have looked for him. Called him and made him tell you what the fuck possessed him just up and leave you here, tell you where the hell he was, demand to know why he wasn’t helping you deal with this. Deal with Dean, who was doing everything weird. Not chasing after or calling Sam, not trying to find another case, not leaving the bunker for anything.

Not leaving you for anything.

Because it’s been three days, and you haven’t stopped seeing Dean.

He’s with you all the time. Behind you, across from you, at your side, always touching you just a little. A hand on your shoulder or back, fingers brushing your skin or poking your arm, a foot pressed against yours under the table. Following you around like he’s a bodyguard and you’re in grave danger, sitting wherever you sit and eating whenever you eat. Standing outside of the bathroom when you go and refusing to acknowledge your questioning looks, walking you to bed every night—but refusing to ever actually look at or enter your room—and waiting for you in the kitchen every morning.

He’s always waiting for you in the kitchen. Already up and shuffling around, and you’re not quite sure he’s actually sleeping, because when you see him his skin is a little sallowed, and his eyes are heavy with bags, and he leans on the counter like his knees feel weak. Dean looks sick, every single morning, and every morning you wonder if you’d imagined it. Because his eyes meet yours and suddenly he’s full of color. Flashing you a smile and saying teasing words, no longer the hollow, deadened man you’d just seen. When you walk in he looks like an animal or husk, and then seconds later he looks like Dean.

And you’re so confused.

Sam’s gone, doing Sam things. Dean’s not avoiding you anymore, but there’s clearly something up with him, and nobody will give you a straight answer for what the fuck is going on. You’d even texted Rowena to see if she could look at the spell again, and never gotten a response back. Not even a fuck off, Dearie, I know how to do my job.

It must be the spell. It’s the only logical explanation. Rowena fucked up the spell—and she knows it, which is why she won’t respond to you—and now Dean’s trapped on you for some reason. Maybe he’s feeding the Mark with things you want—him—because Rowena had used your hair, and she wasn’t supposed to do that. It must be why Sam’s gone, to track down Rowena and get her to fix this.

And you should be ill with concern. You should be consumed by doubt about why no one trusts you with this, and drowning in worry for Dean, for what this means for him.

But you’re selfish. Dean is talking to you and smiling at you and touching you, and you’re so confused as to why, but you never want it to end. You never want Dean look anywhere else again, or guide anyone else through another door, or smirk and wink at a face that isn’t yours.

Towards the end of the third day, you don’t think you’re going to be strong enough to find out what’s going on. It’ll crumble this perfect illusion of Dean really, at least in some way, wanting you. Destroy this world where he’s lounging at you side in the Dean cave, he’s pulled your legs over his, and he’s rubbing the skin of your calf like that’s just something he does. Like it’s not something you’ve dreamed of, something that’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life when Sam fixes this and it’s gone forever.

You have to ask him what’s going on now, before you get lost in a drunken haze of this perfect moment and forget your sworn duty. Help Dean. Sitting with Dean isn’t helping him. Feeding your own desire isn’t helping Dean. Indulging a fucked-up spell isn’t helping Dean.

So you push up slightly, bracing yourself on flat palms, and clear your throat.

Dean looks over to you with a drawn brow. “What’s up, Sweetheart?”

He can’t keep calling you Sweetheart like that. The same way he’s always said it, but deeper. Richer. Like there’s something you’ve never noticed in the word that’s suddenly bigger.

“I, um,” you swallow as he scans over your face, and force the words out of your mouth like vomit. “I need to know. I can’t keep, um, I don’t want to just sit here. I need you to tell me. Tell me the truth, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong-“

“Don’t lie!” You almost yelp, and he might have flinched. “I know you’re trying to like, protect me from it or something, but don’t. I’m fine, I’m a big girl, I can handle it, I can help, you just need to tell me how.” You lean forward, your voice becoming almost a plea. “Please, Dean, tell me how-“

“You can’t.” He snaps, and it’s firm but not loud. Tired but not angry. It’s worse. “Don’t bother.”

“Dean-“

“I said-“

“I know what you said!” You shake your head, growing a little frantic. “You said I ‘can’t’, which means there is something, and you won’t tell me! Dean, please tell me-“

“No.” He grunts, something heated in his eyes as they bore straight into you. “Drop it.”

“I can’t.” You try and pull your legs away, and his hold on you tightens. “Just, at least tell me why you won’t tell me!”

The room fall into a long, heavy, weighted silence as Dean just stares at you. He’s squeezing on your calf, and his jaw keeps clenching like he’s fighting the words in his mouth.

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to cover his. “Please.”

His eyes shoot to your hands, his grip like iron, and he looks almost feral. Like he’s afraid of your touch, or caught in a trap, or something’s about to snap in his body.

But you try to pull back, guilt eating at the edges of your every nerve, and he holds you there. You can hear his breathes, see the tension in his body, and when he speaks it sounds painful. Growled and strained and pushed through teeth.

“I’m handling it.” He mutters, still staring at your hands. “Got a hold on it. You,” he lets out a long, slow exhale, and his hold on you loosens slightly. “Just, it’s not dangerous. Nothin’ for you to do.”

“But why won’t you tell me-“

“Cause.” His jaw twitches. “I can’t. That’s it.”

“Can’t?” You mumble. “Or won’t?”

He shakes his head, drawing another circle on your skin. “Both.”

He’s not going to move on this. Dean won’t meet your eyes, but he also won’t stop touching you, and he’s one of the most stubborn assholes you’ve ever met. If he’s not going to tell you, you probably couldn’t waterboard it out of him.

But you were right. Something is wrong, and Dean won’t tell you what. He’s almost certainly told Sam, but he hasn’t told you. Because you’re not Sam. You’re not someone he loves, or someone he implicitly trusts. He doesn’t want you, doesn’t need you, doesn’t think you could help. And it’s igniting something that stings behind your eyes, sets something heavy and choked inside your throat.

You can’t look at him. If you look at Dean, fully look at him, he’ll look handsome and sad and angry, and you’ll give in. You’ll stay here, where you’re not really wanted, and eat your own worry and fear and love until you know how to pretend that this is fine. That you don’t feel so small and useless, that Dean didn’t just take a bite out of your heart and leave you a little emptier than before, without even knowing.

He doesn’t want you to help him. He may even think you can, but it doesn’t matter, because he isn’t going to let you.

And you can’t stay here or you’ll start crying, and he’ll think you’re weak and emotional. Or worse, he’ll try to comfort you. He’ll ask why you look like he’s kicked you in the gut, and you’ll have to lie to him.

You don’t want to lie to Dean. Not right now. He’s lying to you, but you can’t lie to him. You’ve never even been able to stomach lying to Dean. It’s always make you feel itchy and sick, and right now you already feel so terrible that lying to Dean might make you vomit.

“Okay.” You whisper, tugging your legs away, and this time he lets you. “I got it.”

He says your name as you stand up, and he sounds like he’s in pain, and you can’t look at him to check. “Where are you going?”

“Bed.” You turn away, and every step to the door is mechanical and forced. “I’m tired.”

Dean’s silent behind you. He doesn’t call after you, or chase you down the hall, or even say goodnight. He just lets you go.

You don’t think he knows he had you in the first place. You don’t think he knows that, if he grabbed your arms and asked you to stay, you would’ve. If he apologized, you’d forgive him before he was even done speaking. He’s done worse than this. You fought over less, and forgiven him for more.

But he doesn’t seem to be seeking your forgiveness. And you still have enough pride to not demand it of him. To not stomp back into the room and either scream at him like a scorned lover, or crawl on your knees and beg him to tell you. Either way you’d make a total, desperate, pleading fool of yourself, and right now your dignity—or your fake mask of dignity—is all you have left.

So you’ll hide until this passes. Until Sam gets back, and Dean gets better, and you can all pretend nothing ever happened in the first place. You’ll spiral into thoughts of what could be wrong, and busy yourself with things that don’t quiet the voice in your head. The one that keeps hissing why would he have ever trusted you, you’re not that important, and you’ll force yourself think about anything but Dean. You’ll get ready for bed and not worry about if Dean will even sleep tonight. You’ll shower and try to deny yourself of the usual fantasy’s where Dean’s under the water with you, and he’s grinning at you as you fall to your knees for him in the steam.

Then he would carry you to bed, keeping you wrapped in a towel after he’d insisted on drying you off. He’d set you down on the mattress—which suddenly feels far too big and far too lonely—and crawl over your body, with a smug, annoying grin that’s far too innocent for the predatory look of hunger in his eyes. He’d kiss you all over your face until you’re giggling, and then press his palm against your core and you’d make a loud, needy gasp as he moved to nip and kiss at your breasts-

There’s a knock at your door, and you have to a long unsteady breath to clear your head. You’d somehow ended up with your back flat on the bed, your own hand between your thighs as you’d lost yourself in the empty dream of Dean wanting you, just like you’d sworn not to. You can’t speak right now, not until you’ve stopped grinding against your own fingers, stopped arching off the bed, stopped thinking about Dean’s pretty, full mouth wandering over your skin, moving lower, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you until you screamed his name-

There’s another knock, and this time you hear your name. Grumbled through the door as Dean’s shadow shifts around outside your room, cruelly not leaving until you answer.

“What, Dean.” Your voice is flatter than you’d meant it to be, but you are tired, and if you use emotion you’ll cry or scream. And you really don’t want to do either right now.

“Are you, uh, you gonna open the door?”

He sounds uncertain, and you sigh as you push off the mattress and. You could say no. You don’t want to say no.

“What.” You yank open the door with a glare, and your mouth almost falls open as you take him in. He looks horrible. In an hour his skin has turned gray, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips are in a thin, tight line.

Any anger you’d felt vanishes in one, sharp breath.

“Jesus, Dean, are you-“

“Look, I know I don’t have the right to, but I gotta just ask-“

“Dean-“

“Can I sleep in here?” He scratches the back of his neck, his words barely a mumble as he stares at the floor. “Please.”

You blink at him in surprise. You’ve slept in the same room—even the same bed—as Dean countless times. In cheap motels when you couldn’t afford two rooms, on stiff mattresses when the only other choice was an oddly stained couch. But never at the bunker, where you all get your own rooms, and comfortable beds, and personal space. Dean’s never even been in your room. He’s knocked on your door to grab you for dinner or a last-minute hunt, staring stubbornly at the floor like he is now, remaining a solid step from the threshold like even a toe in your room would kill him.

He’s at the mantle of the door now. Still refusing to meet your eyes, still tense, but also braced like he’s waiting for permission. And you know, if you slammed the door in his face, he’d shuffle away

And you’re a selfish, lovesick dumbass, so instead of kicking him out with his tail between his legs, you look over him wearily and ask, “Why?”

“I, uh,” he glances up at you, and makes a face as if you’d shot him, his voice dropping to a low mumble. “Wanna. If you’re still pissed, I get it, but I just-“ He takes a step back, looking more and more sick by the second. “You know what, forget it. Stupid idea-“

You catch his arm, and he freezes, staring at you with something like fear in his eyes.

“I didn’t say no.” You say, because you’re a helpless dumbass, and maybe this is how he needs you. Dean isn’t good at asking for things, or apologizing, or saying please, and the fact that he’d even done one of those things tells you he means it. You can kick his ass for being such a weird dick later, when this is fixed. Right now he looks like he’s on death’s door, and if this is all he can offer you, you’ll take it.

And that’s pathetic and desperate and probably not that healthy.

And you don’t care. Dean lets you guide him into your room, over to your bed, and he won’t stop staring at you, so you don’t care. You’re not speaking, but you don’t feel like you need to. He’s listening to you in the silence of your movements, laying down when you push slightly at his chest, pulling his sheets up when you hand them to him, and waiting for you as you flip off the lights and round the mattress to your side. When you rest your hand over his, he laces your fingers together and doesn’t go further.

You don’t know how long you lay there, staring at the ceiling and holding Dean’s hand. He coughs after what might have been a minute or a year, moving his thigh to press to yours under the covers, and you don’t think before you give into his silent request. Rolling on your side so you’re facing him, where you find him already staring at you. He looks better. There’s more color on his face, less taut strain on his shoulder, and when he speaks his voice is still low, but less hoarse.

“I can’t tell you what’s goin’ on,” he mutters your name, squeezing your hand. “But you gotta trust me. It’s for your own good.”

You sigh, and give him a sad, soft smile. “It’s not.”

He says your name again, almost as a warning, and you shake your head, holding his gaze.

“Don’t argue, Dean. You know it’s not. But I’m tired of fighting.” You scoot a little closer, and—in the bravest move of your life—drop your head against his chest. “So I forgive you.”

You can’t hear his breathing. He’s stiff against you, and for a second you think you’d fucked up. Made him uncomfortable, made whatever the fuck is happening come to an abrupt end. And you don’t understand this at all, but you know you don’t want it to stop. Ever.

So when Dean, wraps his arm over your body, keeping you against him in the dark, relief explodes through you like a bomb. It’s a brief, hazy moment where it’s just you and Dean in the dark, and he’s touching you like you’re more than a body, more than a friend, more than important. Touching you like you’re an anchor. A cure.

It—combined with Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, and his hand cradling your head—lulls you to an easy sleep, and sparks dreams where Dean touches you like this for a long, long time.

And you’ve really, truly forgiven him.

But you’re not sure how you’re going to live once this goes away.

——————

Dean didn’t know where he was. It was his room, and every motel in America, and his car. Blurred and melded together, so familiar and simple and Dean’s.

Everything in here was Dean’s. The leather bench he was sitting on, the clothing tossed on the floor around him, his mattress across the room. Her.

She was here. She was naked on the bed, waiting on her knees for Dean with a smile, and so damn hot something inside him was going to explode.

And Dean didn’t know what the hell was going on.

The room kept changing. A pair of boots he’d lost years ago on a hunt were near the door, and then gone. Gone with the door. The wallpaper kept shifting between solid colors and floral patterns and stripes, and then he was in Baby, but still in his room, and the ceiling was a roof. There was wind in his face but no windows, and wheel in his hands for only a second before it was gone. He was on the impala’s bench, then in a wooden chair, then on the bed. Next to Her.

She kept changing too. Her skin was clean one moment, then covered in dirt the next. Her hair was longer, then shorter, then tangled and natty before being well-groomed and framed around Her face. She was naked, but in a strange way where Dean couldn’t actually see her body. The space between Her legs was smooth like a doll, and her boobs were just as amazing as always, but blurred at the nipple. Odd patches of Her body seemed to be covered in static, and Her hands moved in a strange, impossible way, and everything felt off.

But Her face was as gorgeous as it always was. And she was looking at Dean like she always did. With bright eyes and smile that Dean knew could fall so quickly, with something harsher behind her features that Dean had learned not to unleash, and something odd he could never figure out.

She said something Dean couldn’t hear, and his mouth moved like a puppet, saying something back he didn’t understand. She seemed to like it, though, because She laughed and crawled onto Dean’s lap.

She was on his lap. She was under him. She was on her knees.

She was on her knees, and She was touching Dean. Palming him through his jeans, watching him with wide, soft eyes and a smile, taking his cock into Her mouth and moving like she’d done it before. Like She was every great blowjob he’d ever had, but still just her. Those were Her lips wrapped around Dean like he was a popsicle, and his hand was in Her hair, guiding her up and down as she moaned and whined and started to grind onto the air.

Her fingers playing with his balls. Her tits between his cock, before it was suddenly Her mouth again, then her hand, then just her tongue. Licking over the head of him before her teeth grazed the base.

It was Her voice, however muffled and faraway, that whimpered his name around his cock. Her eyes that fluttered when he hit the back of Her throat.

Her mouth Dean came in, and her nails that dug into his thighs as he face-fucked Her through his orgasm. He was high and spinning and dying and so alive, he didn’t know where he was, but he knew he’d never come down. She was so good, she’d touched him, and everything was fucking awesome, and Dean’s whole body felt limp and wired as Her hand pumped him through the last of his release.

And it was Her thumb that swiped a dribble of cum off Her chin. Her lips that closed around that same thumb and sucked Dean off her skin.

He had to touch Her. Dean needed to touch Her, to hold her and make her come apart like that. To knead on Her skin and kiss between her breasts, to shove his fingers deep inside Her at make her unravel, to see if she’d feel even better when it was Her pussy wrapped around his cock instead of her mouth-

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. He could barely move or think or speak. His eyes were open but filled with black spots and everything was in a painful blur. His blood was burning and heavy in his body, but his skin felt like white-hot ice, and he could taste the salt of sweat falling from his brow.

He could smell it, smell how he was drenched in that same sweat over his body, could feel how the linen sheets tangled over his body felt made him feel like he was being crushed under a mountain. Dean could taste how something foul like bile was up his throat and over his tongue and filling his nose like blood. It clouded over something sweet fruity and familiar, something that he needed to fucking devour before all his muscled seized up and his heart pounded out of his chest.

The better smell came from something he was clinging to like a goddamn teddy bear. It was firmer and warmer than the sheet, but didn’t hurt or ache to touch. It didn’t need to be tangled against Dean’s body, because it fit against him easily, molded into his hold and shifting in shallow movements, and smelling so good. Sugary and a little sour, slightly artificial but natural in Dean’s nose, and he couldn’t place it over the fog eating at his brain, but he needed it-

He inhaled deeply, a little of his vision cleared, and felt a weight drop into his lungs when he realized what he was smelling.

Cherries. Her hair was a little in his face, and it was Her body in Dean’s arms, and he was fucked. The betterlust had an iron grip on his whole body, so he could only see if he was looking at Her, only breath when he buried his face in her hair—like a fucking creep—and only move if it was to touch Her. She was knocked the hell out, and Dean wouldn’t be able to leave the bed until she woke up and he could trail after her wherever she went.

Then he remembered their fight, remembered that She might not want him near her, and it was like a stab right into his gut. Ripping through is organs and tearing a low groan from his chest, because he was a fucking idiot and now she probably hated him. He was only in here because She’d pitied him, and Dean didn’t want her pity. He just wanted Her.

He couldn’t have Her. Especially not now, when she was probably sick of him and his bullshit. When She’d left him, and he’d deserved it. He’d make the same choice again—if Dean told Her how she could help him, She’d do it out of obligation and he’d lose her forever—but that didn’t make him any less of a dick. If he was a better, stronger man none of this would be a problem. He’d be able to sit next to Her and not only think about how gorgeous she’d look under him or straddling him or with his cock in her mouth-

Another flash of pain cracked over his bones, and he couldn’t move but he had to. All the betterlust wanted was Her, and Dean couldn’t have Her, but it didn’t seem capable of getting the memo. Dean could either have Her, or die.

So he was done. He’d never be able to live with himself if he made Her do that. His own love for Her was just stronger than the betterlust, and it was telling him that She deserved better than him. That Dean couldn’t offer Her anything good, and if Dean hurt Her he might as well do the betterlust’s job for it. At least this way She’d mourn him instead of remembering him as a monster. It was the last thing Dean had managed to keep from Her, how truly horrible he was, had been, was doomed to be. How the only lines he’d never crossed were the unforgivable, unjustifiable ones.

And he wouldn’t cross them now. Even as he felt another tear carve over his brain, Dean would make sure he was put down like the feral dog he was.

Over the ringing in his ears, Dean could hear his phone. The sound was muffled in his pants, and the only thing that allowed him to grab it was the knowledge that, if he didn’t, the buzzing would wake Her up.

He managed to roll over to answer the call, not bothering to look at the ID and forcing words through his teeth.

“Who is this.”

“It’s Sam? Your brother?” Sam sounded concerned through the static of the speaker. That didn’t matter. Lately, Sam always sounded concerned.

“What.”

“That’s it? Just what? No questions about where I’ve been-“

“Sam, I’m not in the fucking mood for this-“

“Why?” Sam was suddenly urgent, his voice sounding a little further away. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Dean grunted, glancing over his shoulder to where She was still asleep. “Don’t feel great, but I’ve had worse. It’s fine, Sammy, go back to your secret mission.”

He was lying. Dean had been through a lot of shit, but he’d never died slowly like this, with the cure only a foot away and unable to be taken. And Sam must have heard it in his voice or something, because the little shit pushed on.

“Dean, do you feel sick?”

“Just the flu or somethin’, it’ll be fine-“

“What about your, uh,” There was a pause, something shuffling around on Sam’s end before he spoke again. “Your stomach? Have you thrown up?”

He had. Last night after She left, he’d heaved over the toilet until he was spitting up bile.

“I’ve got the flu, dude, I’m gonna throw up-“

“How does your head feel-“

“Like shit, but I’m fine-“

“Do you have a fever?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and it was getting harder and harder to speak, let alone answer dumb questions. “How the hell would I know, I’m not a thermometer-“

Sam said Her name, and he might as well have shot Dean in the heart. “You can ask her-“

“No.” Dean snapped, lowering his voice to a hiss. “We’re not involving her in this, Sam, that’s it-“

“Because you love her. And you can’t stay away from her right now.”

Dean almost cracked his jaw. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re getting at-“

“Did you guys get in a fight?”

“Watch it-“

“Dean.” Sam sounded exhausted, his long sigh buzzing in the speaker. “Please. Just answer the question, and you can beat me up when I get back.”

If he was stronger, Dean would’ve told Sam to shove it and hung up. But he wasn’t positive he’d make it until Sam got back, let alone be in any condition to kick his ass. And he couldn’t stand the thought of one of his last conversations with his brother being all lies and anger. Dean was getting really sick of lies and anger.

“We got into it last night,” he muttered. “She must’ve figured out somethin’ was up. She asked to help, and I told her no.”

“Why did you-“

“Because I’m not that much of a fucking asshole.” Dean rolled onto his back, running his hand over his face. “I’m not gonna, I don’t know, coerce her into fucking me-“

“But that would help.”

Dean thought it would. It probably would. There weren’t a lot of ways out of this, but that seemed to be one of them. And it was only slightly less impossible than the other one.

Not that it mattered. Dean wouldn’t, couldn’t, have either of them.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean muttered. “I’m not doin’ that, Sam.”

“Okay. Is that enough?”

Dean frowned. “Enough for wh-“

“More than enough, Samuel.” Rowena cut Dean off through the phone. “You could’ve stopped the poor boy when he almost started whining after you said her name.”

“Sam.” Dean growled, his grip on the phone white knuckled. “Why the hell am I talking to Rowena.”

“Well, Dearie, your dear brother is quite worried about you and the little spell we did, and I wanted to check and make sure you were, as Samuel put it, being a fucking dumbass-“

“Rowena, just,” Sam sighed again, and his voice became a little clearer. Dean must have been taken off speakerphone. “Look, Dean, I know you. If what Rowena told me is right, you probably feel like death right now, and-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted. “Even if I do feel like I’m bein’ ripped open and stuffed with fucking spikes, I’m not gonna-“

“I know. I’m not going to tell you to. You just gotta hang on until we get back, and we’ll fix this.”

Dean swallowed, turning his head to watch Her as he spoke. “Fix it how.”

Sam sighed. “Reverse it.”

“No, Sam, I’m not goin’ back to before-“

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either, man, but we’ve got two options. Rowena undoes this, or you tell her.”

“I’m not telling her-“

“Then Rowena’s undoing this.” Sam’s voice became almost stern, still lined with exhaustion, and Dean felt even more like a piece of shit. “That’s all we’ve got, Dean. We’re heading out now, don’t die until we get back. Okay?”

“Fine.” Dean held back a wet, painful cough because that probably wouldn’t help anyone. “See you.”

He hung up the phone before Sam could, and stared at the ceiling until his gaze blurred once more and everything faded into a haze. Moving in and out of darkness, the only sign of any rest being how he’d suddenly be on his stomach, or side, or under the sheets. Feeling worse and worse and worse until it was all just horrible, stabbing, blinding pain.

Then he was holding Her again. And when the world came back into focus Her pretty eyes were on his, her face barely an inch away, and something loosened over Dean’s throat.

“Dean?” She whispered, and she sounded so sad, it made Dean’s heart twist. “You’re hot.”

His tongue was loosen by the betterlust, and his judgment was washed in a craving for Her, and he was high on cherries and shea butter and something awesome he’d never smelled before—but he’d also never been this close to Her before—so Dean wasn’t able to stop his own stupid mouth from grinning at Her like a lovesick, drunken idiot.

“You’re hot.”

She flushed, and Dean was barely conscious enough to register why Her lips were slack and her eyes were wide. “What?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, his hand drifting up Her back without a thought. “What’d you say?”

“I said you’re hot, Dean.” Her hand moved to rest over Dean’s brow, and he might have moaned. “Jesus, you’re burning.”

“Huh.” Dean moved his own hand to cover Her’s, keeping it against his skin and never breaking her gaze. “Damn.”

“Dean-“

“You smell good,” he blurted, because there didn’t seem to be anything left to stop him. He felt faint and hollow and buried, and the betterlust wouldn’t let up until Dean really touched Her, so all his willpower had to go into not fucking touching her. “And I like, uh, your mouth. ’S nice.”

“You,” She shook her head, her brows knitting as she scans over Dean’s face. “What?”

“I like your mouth. And your voice. You got a nice voice,” Dean slurred out Her name, and he wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore. “Sounds good. Like whiskey.”

“My voice sounds like whiskey-“

“Uh huh,” he nodded, strange little lights starting to cloud his vision. “And a pie.”

“I’m gonna go call Sam-“

“No!” He was still lucid enough to keep Her hand against his forehead, to keep Her here. At his side, before he went. “Stay.”

“Dean, you look terrible-"

“You look pretty.” Dean couldn’t see Her, but She sounded worried. She was always really pretty when she was worried. “Don’t go.”

She sighed, somewhere near his cheek. “I have to. If you won’t tell me how to help you, I need to get someone who can-“

“You can help.”

There was silent for a long moment, and then a sharp, “What do you mean I can help.”

“Could make it better.” Dean let himself roll a little further into Her touch, because it kept him conscious just a little longer. “You make everything better.”

“Dean, I need you to tell me what to do, now-“

“Nah.“

“Dean Winchester,” Her other hand was on his cheek now, slapping him lightly. “I swear to fucking God if you don’t-“

Her voice faded into a sweet, calm song in the background, and Dean didn’t feel well. She sounded pissed. She was pretty when she was pissed too. She was always pretty, and Dean really didn’t feel good.

There was one more thing he had to say. Something that always lived on the back of his tongue, and was finally fighting its way to his teeth. Something he had to tell Her, had to do, or there was no chance he wouldn’t end up in something worse than hell when he was done.

He murmured Her name, and everything stopped. It was just Her hands on his cheek and brow, Dean’s own ragged breath, and silence as he dragged everything he had left to the surface to look at Her. Really look at Her.

She looked beautiful, but she also seemed ill. And worried. Maybe after this She’d never have to be worried again.

This was probably a dick move, if Dean’s really headed where he thinks he is. But the betterlust demands he say it, and maybe this small offering of something will keep him alive a few hours longer. To see Sam.

“Love you,” Dean told Her. Whispered to Her. Breathed at Her. She might not have heard it, so he said it again, starting with Her name. “I love you.”

If She responded, Dean didn’t hear it. The pound of his blood in his ears became overwhelming, and he could only taste rot, and something pulled him up into warmth and cherries and whiskey as his vision went white.

He hoped She’d heard it.

He hoped She remembered how Dean loved her, and not how he’d been such a fucking dick.

Dean really hoped, when this was done, She’d smile again knowing he’d loved her, and never have to worry again.

End Note: I'd apologize for this one, but I'm not sorry. Trust it'll pay off BIG TIME next chapter.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @spacecowgirl126 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @lovewolfspirit

@lordofthunderthr @nightxcreature @underground-secrets @amberlthomas @kamisobsessed

@tcedenslash

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book-place-incorrect-quotes · 2 years ago

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*Y/N in a hospital bed and Dean sitting in a chair next to it*

Dean: Is it painful?

Y/N: What? Being stabbed, or sitting here talking to you?

#source: friends #supernatural incorrect quotes #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader platonic #spn x reader #supernatural x reader

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mxltifxnd0m · 7 months ago

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tell me why i never put the pieces to together that in szn 4 when sam and dean are sent to that workplace AU by the angels that their last names are based on the gun company Smith and Wesson?!!

like me and my friend were talking about it and wondered why dean had a basic ass last name then we realized why it was like that

dean smith

sam wesson

Smith and Wesson guns

and then their actual last names are also based on the winchester gun brand 😭😭

eric kripke you will always be famous for this in my heart

#daisy yaps <3 #please tell me i wasn’t the only one who didn’t know this #me and my friend minds were blown when we realized it #like it hit us like a fucking truck 😭😭#the dots have been connected #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam wesson #dean smith #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam wesson x reader #dean smith x reader #eric kripke

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bunnysbrainrot · 1 year ago

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If You Change Your Mind

Relationship: Dean Winchester x Reader, friends(?) to lovers

Summary: For about half a year, you’ve hunted alongside the Winchester brothers to find a purpose in their ‘family business’. But, it seems that Dean’s harsh attitude is driving the two of you away from one another. What happens when that tension breaks, and his truth is revealed?

A/N: I plan on writing more for this, so expect more to come!

No content warnings, just some tension!

Though you had been working alongside Sam and Dean for a few months, practicing your skills as a hunter, your relationship with the older brother hadn’t been the easiest. Dean had a talent of being condescending even without words, which was discouraging to your hard work. Sure, you hadn’t been a hunter nearly as long as Dean, but hell, you were trying your damn hardest to improve. Sam, when you had brought it up, explained that Dean had a ‘hard time opening up’, which you knew better than anyone, at this point.

In the beginning of your working with the brothers, you had taken a liking to Dean, to put it lightly. His rugged demeanor and nonchalant attitude drew you in. He knew how to have a good time, had an amazing sense of humor, and could flirt with anyone as easy as breathing. All except for with you. Somehow, when Dean was with you, he couldn’t find the right way to approach… anything.

That is, until a hunt last week. It was a simple salt and burn, out in the countryside of Georgia. Dean had been distant, only speaking when necessary, but growing frustrated with you for futile reasons. Eventually, the two of you had a full blown argument: you pleaded with him to be more patient, that he was being too harsh on you as a new hunter. For Dean, he was rambling on how much of a ‘dumbass’ you were, getting too risky on hunts.

After that argument, you kept quiet. Ever since then, Dean barely looked at you, let alone said any words your way. Eventually you realized the toll it had taken on you, leaving you feeling out of place and drained. If it weren’t for Sam encouraging you to confront Dean, you considered planning on heading back home, if it could even be considered that anymore.

Taking a deep breath as you walked into the bunker, you spotted Dean seated at a long mahogany table, legs kicked up as he scrolled through his phone. While you were out you picked up food, burgers to be more specific, unintentionally Dean’s favorite. You had picked up orders for both brothers, since you didn’t go out on your own errands too often. Approaching the table, heart racing slightly wilder than before, you placed the paper bag near Dean, took out your own food, and began to walk off. A silent olive branch, the Dean Winchester way.

His voice rang throughout the room as you walked off, stopping you in your tracks.

“So, what? You’re just gonna ignore me, is that it?”

You turned to face him now, heart in your throat at the confrontation. Dean didn’t make this shit easy by any means. Confrontation was already difficult as is, and the eldest Winchester son challenged that further.

“I think you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be talked to, Dean,” your voice was shaky despite the firm sentence you chose. Dean narrowed his eyes at you before taking a swig of his beer.

“Just been going through a lot lately, I guess,” his tone was terse, like there was a dam of emotions waiting to burst open. “Yeah, I’ve been a little distant, but you gotta stop thinking it’s all about you.”

Something in you snapped at that, glaring at Dean as you replied, “That’s bullshit and you know it. Everything changed after that shapeshifter hunt a few weeks ago. You’ve barely said a word to me. And that case out in Georgia only made it worse.”

Dean looked at you for a moment, studying your expression and sudden reaction to his remarks. He nodded as he listened, but you knew it wasn’t him taking it in. It was the specific Dean nod that meant he was ready to unleash how he felt. The pursed lips said it all.

“Fine. Maybe I have been ignoring you. There’s some truth there, but trust me. You have no idea why I’m doing this. You probably think it’s because I’m mad at you for screwing up, but it’s more than that.”

“Then, what is it?” You demanded, eyebrows raised as you awaited a better explanation.

“It’s for a reason.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Honestly? I don’t want to see you get ganked just because you’re a dumbass on a hunt.”

That remained to be his only response for a long pause. “I think you don’t care about your life as much as others do, so yeah… that pisses me off a bit.”

“Pisses you off so much that you treat me like I don’t exist,” you muttered, but he had already caught your retort. Dean’s jade green eyes darted to you. But, for a good while, he never gave a reply.

“If this is the way you show you’re concerned,” you began, “then maybe it would be good to learn some ‘people skills’.”

He sucked his teeth, looking away with a smug smile. Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration at him. Dean stood from his spot, walking over to you. You always forgot just how impressive he was until he stood toe to toe with you - his muscular physique and sharp features had always made you nervous, and the sensation they sent through you now was beyond confusing. It was hard to tell if your stomach was turning over itself or if your senses were distorted from this man staring you down.

“Oh I know people, don’t get me wrong,” he started, his voice lowered, “and believe me, I know more about you than you think.”

Your eyebrows arched in confusion at this, mulling over in your head at what the hell he could’ve meant.

“What…?”

“Oh, you were easy to understand. Practically see through. I knew what you wanted from the start,” Dean seemed to be speaking more clearly now, that hidden kernel of resentment now popping open.

“Listen, I’m just telling you this now, this whole ‘lovey dovey’ crap doesn’t mix well with hunters. You wanna bang? Better find someone on the road. Now for me… that’s when shit gets complicated.”

You could hardly wrap your head around what he was saying, noticing that he was far more than two steps ahead of you in this. Your throat was taught, straining to respond to him.

“Nothing is getting in the way, Dean. You’re seeing this all wrong.”

He shook his head, prodding his pointer finger into your collarbone. “You know that’s bullshit. And I’m telling you… that I know how complicated this would get if things went any further.”

It’s not like you had high hopes to begin with, but now it shattered completely. You looked to the ground, unable to form what you wanted to say.

“How do you know that?”

Dean replied, “Well, item number one… I’m pretty sure you just confirmed your feelings, but item number two, it just would.”

His tone had shifted to something slightly playful, but you didn’t break into a smile just yet. Your head spun as you thought about where this would lead to.

“But what if it doesn’t? What if it works out?”

The hunter looming over you stayed silent, eyes scanning the floor between you. His voice when he spoke next was hushed, almost a whisper.

“Because it would make losing you worse.”

For a split second, time seemed to stop.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at you once more, intently into your eyes as he explained, “In this line of work, getting close to someone is a damn luxury. That’s something I can’t have. Not in a million years, and definitely not with you.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off.

“I’ve been a dick, I get it. And listen… I know you didn’t deserve that, and that’s completely on me. And it didn’t help that I didn’t tell you before.”

The only thing the two of you could hear was the faint buzzing of the lamp on the table.

“I don’t trust myself enough for it. If we’re too close, that makes us vulnerable, and the last thing any of us need is a new weak spot for those evil sons of bitches out there.”

Now with a heavier heart, you looked at Dean, unable to look anywhere but his eyes. A sad light had taken over his expression, more emotion than you had seen from him in weeks.

“I,” he said in a hushed tone, “listen…. I want this. You. If I knew that this could work, and everything would be okay, I would take that chance in a heartbeat.”

Something mixed inside of you, a strange muddled feeling of heartbreak and hope. Where did this leave them? What happens now?

“But,” your head snapped up at attention, “it’s not like I don’t wanna try. I’m just… shit, I’m scared to death of what could happen.”

A feeling in your gut tugged at his words, the weight of the truth in them. Dean let out a long breath, seeming to gain his composure. You noticed how his demeanor changed while he stood in front of you - from one of a fierce man, to one so vulnerable.

“Dean,” you started, hoping to give him some sort of comfort. You could only imagine how difficult this was for him, but there wasn’t the faintest idea of what to say to make this situation better.

“Well, I guess we know how we feel about each other. At least, a little.” There was a sense of hope in those words, like the optimism of your tone would change this discouraging outcome. “And, if you ever change your mind, about this whole ‘us’ thing not working, I think you’ll know where to find me.”

The words hung in the air.

“You would know it better than anyone, Dean.”

————

Chapter 2 is up! Thank you for reading!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #friends to lovers

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zepskies · 2 years ago

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If You Want It To Be - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s one of my entries for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event! ❄️ Hope you enjoy Part 1 of 3. (I will release one chapter per week! Possibly sooner. 😉)

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,900 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Bickering, fluff, jealousy, angst, friends to lovers, (eventual) smut.

Part 1: December 23

“I never thought I’d miss my own bed as much as I do right now,” you mutter.

Though your body’s weary, you manage to heft your duffel bag onto your shoulder. Soon enough, you’ll be out of this craptastic motel.

More specifically, away from the cot that nearly broke your back while you weren’t sleeping on it. Who could sleep on a bed of rusty-ass springs?

But while Sam is already loading weapons and his things into the Impala, Dean seems to be taking his sweet time, fiddling with something by the solitary nightstand in between the two queen beds. Your extra cot is laid out in the corner (may it rot in hell).

Dean glances up at you at your remark.

“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on all week,” he quips. And he smirks when you send him a mock warning look.

“Don’t mess with me right now. Haven’t gotten my beauty sleep in three days.” You have to adjust your duffel on your shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

Dean’s smirk fades the longer he concentrates on trying to put on his watch.

“Trying to…damn it, think this strap is done.”

Sighing, you set down your bag on the bed and sit down next to him on the edge of it. You peer over his shoulder and see that the leather band is indeed broken.

“Aw, that sucks. I can replace it for you if you want, since I’m the one who wrangled you guys out here,” you say with a frown.

You called them for backup when you discovered the coven of witches. If you’ve learned anything about hunting over the years, it just isn’t safe to go after a group of those demon-worshipping assholes without help. And it gave you a reason to get back in touch with Sam and Dean…

If you’re honest, it gave you an excuse to see Dean.

You haven’t seen him in months, but he and Sam came when you called. The three of you managed to take out all four of those bitches, after having to track them down across the plains of Indiana.

At least it only came at the cost of Dean’s watch.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. He tries to wave you off, but you shake your head stubbornly.

“Really, I mean it,” you say. “I’ll buy you a new one. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and while you love this time of year (and your own bed), part of you isn’t looking forward to going home to an empty apartment.

Dean looks up at you with a rueful smile. “Really, it’s okay. This one was my dad’s.”

At that, your guilt intensifies. “Oh…guess there’s no replacing that. I’m sorry.”

“This’s just what I get for hauling my ass out here, pulling yours out of the fire,” he remarks. Some humor creeps back into his smile. “As usual.”

“Hey, if anything, I saved your ass,” you tease back, even though you still feel guilty. “That he-witch was about to grate you into Swiss cheese.”

And then you shot him between the eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean raises his brows at you. “And when Barbie girl locked you in her cellar, that was what, you taking a nap?”

Your lips purse in response. You enjoyed seeing that platinum blonde bitch go down hard—with an iron chain wrapped around her neck. Dean held her down while Sam finished her off with two shots to the chest.

Trust Dean to try and take credit for the whole thing. You get up to your feet with a roll of your eyes, collecting your bag. You feel his presence burning behind you as you both head out of the motel.

“I would’ve figured it out eventually,” you say.

“Right. Where have I heard that before?” Dean says dryly. He follows you to your car and watches you throw your duffel into the backseat. Maybe he admires the curve of your ass in those jeans for a bit too long while you’re bent over.

But his eyes snap back up to yours when you straighten, turning back to him with a wry look. For years, this is how things have always been between you. Playful, sniping, not entirely flirting, but not quite not either.

Sam then comes around the Impala to give you a friendly hug goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says with a smile. You return it, giving his plaid-covered chest a light punch.

“You two are the ones with the packed dance cards. I’m lucky I got you guys to even answer my call,” you quip. “I’m down to goddamn smoke signals here.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you into his arms next. “If we’re screening anyone’s calls, it ain’t you, sweetheart.”

You huff at that, but your smile is more genuine when you hug him back. For a brief moment, you let yourself revel in his warmth, his spicy aftershave, the solid feel of him wrapped around your whole body like a perfect man glove.

It’s so familiar to you, but bittersweet. Because all too soon, you have to let go.

“It was good to see you,” you say, a little softer than you meant to. Dean’s lips quirk at a warmer smile. There’s something in his eyes you can’t name when he releases you.

But with a sigh, you turn and get into your car—an old Ford Focus.

“You’re really still rockin’ that rusted out piece of shit, huh?” Dean asks, watching you with crossed arms as you climb in. The door creaks loudly when you shut yourself in. You flash him a wan smile and lower the window (with the embarrassing hand crank).

“Since 2003. Good old Hubert hasn’t failed me yet,” you reply. And then you turn the ignition.

It splutters, but doesn’t start the car.

What the fuck?

Frowning, you try it again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

The brothers Winchester still stand between your car and the Impala in the parking lot. Sam shares a glance with Dean, who brushes a hand over his mouth as he watches.

Finally, you look up at them with a grimace when your car just dies. Kaput. There’s the sound of pressure releasing, along with your high hopes of making it home tonight.

“Goddamn it, Hubert.”

That’s how you find yourself a guest of Le Bunker a few hours later, after Dean tows your car all the way to Lawrence, Kansas.

“You’re welcome to stay for the holidays,” Sam tells you once the three of you make it inside. He leads the way down the winding staircase. Dean follows behind you.

“That’s right! Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” you reply with a smile.

Your family loves Christmas, but it’s just you this year. Your father is on an extended cruise with his new wife, technically your stepmother. When your dad asked you how you felt about them going on this trip, they seemed so excited about it that you didn’t feel like you could say no.

So between watching Halmark movies by yourself all day and hanging out here with your friends, there’s really no decision to make. You agree to stay.

Sam nods back at you and continues into the bunker. He goes on to greet Castiel and Jack in the living room.

When you reach the ground floor, Dean lays a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

“I’ll take a look at your car, see if we can’t get it running in a couple days,” he says.

“By Christmas? That’s a tall order,” you reply with a grin. “Even for Dean Winchester, Un-Certified Mechanic.”

Dean smirks back at you, crossing his arms. “That a challenge, sweetheart?”

You pull out your best Charlie’s Angels narrator voice. “I guess it is. Your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

His gaze is warm with playful scrutiny, from your dirty sneakers to your jeans and black V-neck top, to the messy ponytail keeping your hair together. But you can’t help but blush at the lazy, damn near flirtatious way he does it.

“All right. Challenge accepted,” he says, crossing his arms. “What do I get if I win?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “My undying respect.”

He just hums and leans against the iron guardrail of the stairs, hands sliding into his pockets.

“Not enough for you?” you ask.

He shrugs, unimpressed, like he can take it or leave it. You step up on one of the stairs and fold your arms on the guardrail, so you can be level with Dean’s eyes.

“Okay. If you manage to miraculously get my car running by Christmas, you get one consequence-free request,” you offer. He raises a brow at that.

“Anything I want?” he asks.

“Within reason,” you amend, though you’re starting to blush. It curves his lips.

“No questions asked?” he hedges.

You think about it for a moment…

“None,” you shake your head. “We got a deal?”

Dean smirks back at you and crosses his arms.

“Deal.”

Maybe the little bet is silly. You know very well Dean can fix your car in two days. Just as you know you need to keep a tighter lid on your feelings…

Now that you’re here in the Bunker, unable to escape him, there’s too much potential for spillage—of things you’ve long kept hidden.

It just never seemed like he was seriously interested. Even if he ever is, you also know very well that Dean’s not the dating type. And you…you just don’t think you can handle being another “hit and run” for him.

Or a “sometimes” girl.

Or even worse, a “when it’s convenient” girl.

If you think too long about it, that would just about rip your heart out.

So you ignore the thought of Dean again for a while. After you shower and change into some pajama pants and a loose top, you pad barefoot into the kitchen. Castiel is there to greet you, staring into a glass of orange juice. You raise a brow at him.

“You okay, Cas?” you ask.

“Pulp or no pulp, that is the question,” he muses.

“Um…pulp?” you reply.

He nods and takes a sip. “Pulp is good. Increased levels of Vitamin C. But I’m thinking no pulp is best. It eliminates the possible choking hazard.”

You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you nod. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You pause in your quest for a snack to look around the bare furnishings of the bunker.

“What the hell’s going on here?” you ask. “It’s literally Christmas Eve. Where’re all the decorations?”

Jack comes in the kitchen, pausing from watching reruns of Judge Judy to join you and Castiel. He doesn’t know you very well, but he’s just as curious about you as you’re curious (and maybe a little wary) about him.

You know Dean hasn’t totally warmed up to the Nephilim, but he seems kind, and you find his honest, natural inquisitiveness endearing.

“I know about Christmas,” he says, smiling like he’s proud of that fact. “It celebrates the day of Jesus’s birth. Even though December 25 itself is not historically accurate, society has made up for that fact by intertwining pagan traditions and overbearing commercialism.”

“A very good way of putting it,” you say after a moment, chuckling. “Well done.”

Jack grins at the praise. Castiel shares an amused smile with you, but his is more fond.

“I don’t believe Sam and Dean are big on celebrating Christmas,” Castiel says, finally answering your question.

You cluck your tongue and level both angelic beings with a determined look.

“Well, that’s just not gonna cut it, guys. If I’m spending Christmas here, we’re doing it right,” you say.

And with a growing smile, “Buckle up. We’re going to Walmart.”

As it turns out, “doing it right” takes pretty much all night. But you’re impressed with how everything came out.

There’s now a large tree in the living room (a real one, bought in the Walmart lot of Christmas trees), decorated with three packs of lights, ornaments, and a nice star on the top, with a lacy red ribbon that overlays down the front.

You worked your hardest on the tree, but you also directed Castiel and Jack with a new tablecloth for the war room table. Red candles in “fancy plastic” gold holders, tinsel and ornaments and several other Christmasy things that now brighten up the entire place with festive wonder.

And all on the cheap. Though your wallet is going to smart a bit, considering you might’ve gone a bit overboard. Not just on decorations, but on some groceries, a few gifts, and maybe a couple of things for yourself…

You just don’t anticipate later falling asleep on the long table in the war room, with a roll of ribbon curled around your hand and tinsel in your hair.

You wake up to a hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. You groan, squinting against the twinkling lights, no matter how pretty they are in all their multi-colored glory.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

“Huh…?”

“You’re drooling on the table. I’m guessing that’s a new tablecloth.”

“Whathefu…” You manage to open your eyes and raise your head, finding Dean smirking down at you. You blink up at him sleepily.

“Aw shit,” you utter.

“That’s one way to greet somebody,” he intones.

You just grin with exasperation, but you accept his help in sitting up with a groan. Every muscle in your body aches in protest from having slept on a slab of hard wood.

His hand doesn’t leave your back until your bare feet are firm on the ground, though you lean on his arm for a minute while you rub sleep out of your eyes.

“Damn, I wanted to see your faces when everything was put up,” you say ruefully. Sam comes in with a smile and two mugs of coffee, one of which he hands to you.

“It’s incredible! How’d you do all this?” he asks. “And thank you. You know you didn’t have to.”

You waved him off. “I wanted to. Plus, I had a little help.”

You raise your mug to Castiel as he walks by with an iPad and a multigrain bar. It’s such a far cry from the angel you had met years ago—socially ignorant of human ways—that you have to smile. He returns it.

“Jack’s still putting the finishing touches on the Christmas village,” Cas says.

“Village?” Dean frowns.

“We had him set it up in his room,” you tell him. “He was fascinated by the train part. And the fake snow. And all the little people…”

“Great, another nerd,” Dean remarks.

“Be nice,” you chide. He shoots you a certain smirk.

“What do you mean? I’m Mr. fucking Nice Guy.”

“More like Scrooge,” you counter.

“All right, Sweeney Todd. Might wanna fix the nest you’ve got going on there,” he retorts, gesturing at the wild state of your hair. You’re still picking out tinsel.

You narrow your gaze at him. “Big talk from the guy wearing fuzzy slippers.”

Dean frowns, glancing down and shuffling his slippered feet. In his defense, the floor is cold.

“All right, I’ll just get started on breakfast then,” Sam says, cutting through the familiar bickering with a resigned grin. After a parting amused look at you, Dean follows him into the kitchen.

“Wait, wait. You don’t know how the hell to make eggs. Let me get in there.”

Rolling your eyes, you share a conspiratorial look with Castiel, who smiles before taking his iPad into the living room. You take the opportunity to shower, brush your damn hair, and fix yourself into an actual human again.

Suddenly inspired to put some effort in, you pick out a dress for once. It’s not the new one you might’ve splurged on for Christmas dinner tomorrow, but it’s a “just in case” dress you always take in your bag…just in case.

It’s a black, comfortable fabric with simple long sleeves and a skirt that drapes above the knee. It’s just casual enough to wear around the bunker. But it can also be dressed up with some heels if you need to. This is not one of those times, thank God.

You even take pains to do your makeup, light on the eyes but popping with a bit of red lipstick that you typically save for going out. Tis the fucking season.

And maybe you want to wipe away that asinine smirk from Dean’s face.

When you return to the kitchen, all four men are sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, talking, and drinking coffee. That all pauses when they see you.

“Morning, again,” you greet them. And you hum to yourself as you grab another cup of coffee. But you stop in your tracks when you realize they’re all looking at you.

The ones who have tact (Sam and Dean) manage to return to their phone and iPad, respectively. But the angels are a little slow to look away.

“You look different today,” Jack says.

Your lips twitch at a smile. “A good different?”

“Yeah,” he says, though the way he looks at you makes you wonder if he’s sure. You share a glance with Dean, whose face strains with an awkward I don’t know what to tell you smile.

You don’t know it, but Dean’s gaze follows you as you putter about the kitchen. The sight of your smooth and shapely legs are enticing, especially the way the skirt of your dress keeps swishing along your thighs.

Sam clears his throat, catching his brother’s gaze with amusement. Dean’s lips purse at being caught in the act of checking you out, but he swiftly ignores his brother to glance back down at his iPad.

Shaking his head, Sam gets up after he finishes his breakfast and brings his plate to the kitchen sink.

“You going out or something?” he asks you. “There’s some eggs for you in the pan, by the way.”

You nod at that, grabbing yourself a plate from the cupboard. You’re starting to reacquaint yourself with where everything is in the bunker.

“No, but it’s funny how you guys seem to think I live in my hunter gear all the time.” You arch a brow at Sam. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a woman. Capable of wielding lipstick.”

Sam grins, raising up his hands in surrender. “By all means, wield away. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” you say dramatically. He snorts in response and moves to get around you. But that’s when Jack pipes up.

“Oh, look,” he says, pointing to a spot above you and Sam. “You guys are under the mistletoe.”

Your eyes widen. You glance up at said sprig, which hangs from a long string stapled into the ceiling, then at Sam as a blush starts to warm your face. He looks similarly caught off guard.

“Who put that there?” you ask, cutting your gaze over to Jack in suspicion. His boyish grin is pleased, while Castiel fights a smile of amused embarrassment for you.

Dean is oddly quiet though. His expression hides behind the hand he’s leaning his chin on, while his elbow rests on the table. You meet his eyes for just a moment, before you crane your head up to look back at Sam.

You shrug with a grin and beckon to him with your hands. “All right, come ‘ere.”

Sam’s face is a bit crunched with an awkward smile, but he obliges you by wrapping you up in a friendly embrace.

You take his face with both hands and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. You feel his prickly stubble against your lips, but you don’t mind.

“Merry Christmas,” you say with a giggle. He chuckles in response and rubs your back warmly.

“Merry Christmas,” he echoes, pressing a hand to your cheek. You’re one of those friends he counts as his family, and he’s truly grateful that you’re here with them for the holidays.

You have similar warm feelings for the gentle giant as you pull out of his embrace. When you glance over at Dean, you don’t know what to expect to find. By the mild grin he’s sporting, he just seems amused by the whole thing.

You inwardly shake your head at yourself, wondering if you should’ve just kissed Sam. Maybe then you’d figure out where you stand with Dean.

And once you know for sure he doesn’t see you in any kind of way, then you can try to actually move on from Dean Winchester.

You’re forced to sit across from him after you heat up your eggs and make some toast. He’s just scrolling through his iPad without a care in the world.

But in reality, you couldn’t know that Dean is fighting not to look at you. Because the truth is, he didn’t like what he just saw…the obvious warmth between you and his brother.

“We need stockings,” Jack notes, before he turns to you. “Wasn’t that on your list?”

“Ooh, you’re right. I think I forgot,” you reply. “To be fair, trolling around Walmart on three days of no sleep is ill-advised at the best of times, let alone at 12:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve.”

Sam chuckles at that. While Dean gives a slight smile, he’s still quieter than usual.

“Want to go grab some at the store?” Jack asks. You rub your chin in thought.

“Well, I wanted to get started on baking some cookies for later.”

“I can take him,” Sam offers. Jack nods along with the idea.

“Okay, great,” you reply.

“Need anything else while we’re out?” Sam asks.

“Hmm, nope! Nothing that I can think of,” you reply. Sam nods, and soon after, he and Jack leave for the store.

You turn to Dean, intending to ask if he’d like to help you in the kitchen. Realistically, you know he’s not going to do much but stand there while you do most of the work, but it’s a chance to hang out, just you and him.

You’ve almost worked up your nerve to ask when Dean gets up from the table with his iPad. He says nothing to you before he starts toward the garage, making you frown.

“Hey, Dean,” you call to him.

He hesitates, turning back to you with an expectant brow. You want to ask him to stay but…ultimately, you lose your nerve.

“Gonna work on my car?” you ask instead. He flashes you a smile that doesn’t completely reach his eyes.

“Un-certified mechanic, at your service,” he dryly quips with a lazy salute.

You quirk a smile as he continues on his way, but somehow, you feel unsettled. You turn to Castiel, and you remember the rest of your plan for today.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yes?” His head raises from his book.

You give him a conspiring smile.

“I have a special mission for you.”

AN: The stage is set, folks! Let me know what you thought of Part 1. 😘

Next Time:

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you again, with a smirk.

“My turn,” he remarks. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he says.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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