#deans mechanical mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a1ecmcdowell · 1 month ago

Text

dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #──★ dean x saga #dean winchester x angel!reader #jensen ackles #dean winchester #angel!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #spn #supernatural #supernatural one shot #spn one shot

809 notes · View notes

stonelions · 4 months ago

Text

starting to think dean's perception of cas as a weird, dorky, little guy is in fact a protection mechanism that he fired off subconsciously to shield himself from his otherwise mind-breaking attraction to a man wearing a beige trenchcoat & sensible shoes

#dean: rewrites reality so he doesn't have to Deal #spn #bisexual disaster king #the angel is gay #destiel

623 notes · View notes

supernotnatural2005 · 1 month ago

Text

'Giddy up Cowboy' (Drabble)

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: The power of impression leads to wondrous things.

Word Count: 822

Prompt: ‘Character B tries to impress Character A’

Warnings: Dean riding a mechanical bull 🥵🥵

AN: This is another square completed for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. It's a short one I know but, I think it fit perfectly for this prompt 😄

Read the follow up here

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

“Don’t you just love a man who knows how to ride one of those things?" You sigh dreamily, watching man after rugged-looking man try their damnedest at riding the mechanical bull.

There was just something so downright sexy about watching a guy flex his thighs and roll his hips in time with the sway of the machine. If you didn’t know any better, it seems as though you may have discovered a new turn-on for yourself.

“Um, not really Y/N.” Sam chuckles before taking a drink from his beer. You smack his arm in jest because he knew you were being rhetorical. You cease, however, when your attention is soon re-captured by another man stepping up for his turn.

Meanwhile Dean frowns at you, his eyes glancing between you and the men making complete fools of themselves, in his opinion. Not one of them had been able to stay on for a full minute. There was nothing impressive about that, so he couldn’t see as to why you thought so.

‘Because you just hate the fact she’s gawking at other men.’ Came the niggling voice in the back of his mind. A voice that hadn’t shut up about you for months now.

Again, the new guy was flung from the machine, this time before even 30 seconds were up, and Dean scoffs. Apparently it was loud enough for your attention to turn to him.

“What? You think you can do any better, Winchester?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I think even Sammy here could do better than these goons.” Dean sasses back, and Sam frowns, knowing that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. You squint your eyes at Dean, too suspiciously for his liking, and he distracts himself with a pull from his beer.

“Then why don’t you hop on? Show these goons—"you imitate his deep voice, "what you’ve got?” You challenge him playfully, almost like you didn’t believe he would.

Fine, he thinks stubbornly. Maybe this time you’ll actually notice me; comes that voice again.

You had been a casual hunting partner with the boys for a few months now; your knowledge, skill, and witty humour brought a fresh new light into their lives, and they both enjoyed having you around. Dean maybe more so, for other reasons.

Finishing the rest of his beer in one big gulp, he stands from the table with a cocky smirk. “I’ll show you how a real man does it, sweetheart.” Sam cringes at his brothers statement, and Dean has to admit it was a cheap line, but it got that smile out of you. The one that made your eyes shine.

As Dean pays the operator, he looks over at you one last time and sends you a wink before he steps up onto the mat and effortlessly mounts the bull. He blows out a breath, suddenly nervous. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself now, not with the mouth he’d given you.

Dean gives the guy a thumbs up once he’s situated, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His only thought; she’s watching, like a mantra in his mind. He hears the whirring of the machine spark to life, and no sooner as it did, does the bull begin to rock.

At first, it’s a gentle forward and backward motion until it begins to spin. Dean clenches his knees tighter and rolls his hips, matching the same motion as the bull. He holds his left arm out for balance as the bull begins whipping around at a much faster pace. He grips on for dear life, the cheer from the crowd gathered drowning into nothingness as he puts all his concentration into staying on.

It feels like a lifetime before he finally hears the operator announce he’d broken the 90 seconds before the bull gradually begins to wind down to a stop. An eruption of cheers, mostly from the women in the crowd, surrounds him as he hops down. Even some of the guys who’d failed shake his hand impressed as he steps off the mat. He nods politely as he pushes his way through, ignoring the women trying to get his attention—his eyes only searching for you.

You’re standing at the back of the crowd, having moved to get a better view, your smile dazzling and eyes alight with wonder.

“So. Was I better?” Dean asks, a little breathless from his effort but also incredibly curious. You take a step closer to him, your lips pulling up into a smirk as you come toe to toe. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his chest, and he’s certain you can feel what the simple action does to his heart.

“You did great! But I think I can ride him better.” Your eyes glisten with mischief as you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear.

“And I’m not talking about the bull.”

Read part 2 here.

AN: Again, I know it was a short one but I have much more planned for the rest of my squares, maybe a series in the works 👀 As always I really appreciate any feedback! Let me know what you though 💕

198 notes · View notes

caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

In the Lonely Shadows

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

Requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March. LOL, sorry it’s been forever, my love.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists.

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

WC: 1054

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, however.

Read on Ao3!

It had been months since Dean had made his choice. The memory still stung—he chose normalcy, Lisa, and a life far from the chaos... far from you.

The moment Dean drove away to that suburban dream with Lisa and Ben, it was like a wound ripping open and never closing. You didn’t hear from him again, and there was no check-in or phone call—just silence. Castiel, too, was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of his presence. Prayers went unanswered, and you were left alone with the echoes of battles fought and lives lost.

It was after Lucifer fell that everything seemed to break apart. Sam was gone—dead, you thought. Dean buried himself in the illusion of family, and you… well, you weren’t sure what you had anymore. There was no going back to who you were before the apocalypse, and your heart ached with unspoken feelings, ones that Dean never noticed.

He never loved you the way you loved him.

In the emptiness that followed, Crowley found you. The King of Hell always had impeccable timing. "You look like a stray," Crowley had said the night you crossed paths in some dingy bar in some forgotten town. "Lost your boys, I see. Shame. You were always good at what you do."

You could've walked away, but what was left? With nowhere to go and no one to fight for, you accepted Crowley’s offer—a devil's bargain, becoming a bounty hunter for Hell, tracking down Lucifer loyalists who still believed in the fallen archangel’s cause. It was dark work, but it was work, and it kept your mind from drowning in grief and longing.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Hunting for Crowley meant betraying everything you’d once stood for, but that world had abandoned you first.

Months later, you stood in the ruins of an old church, blood splattered across the stone walls and broken angelic statues depicting Saints. The demon you’d tracked was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s return. You wiped your blade clean, not even flinching as the body burned to ash behind you. It was mechanical now—kill, move on. Feel nothing.

Crowley appeared, as he often did after a job well done. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something close to pride. "Well done, love. Another one bites the dust."

You didn’t respond, just holstered your blade and looked out into the night. The stars were out, a stark reminder of the heaven you couldn’t reach, of the angel who had left without a word.

"You know, I’ve always admired your efficiency," Crowley continued, walking up beside you. "But there’s something hollow in it. Still pining for the good ol' days? For Dean? You haven’t been the same since the Moose and Not Moose fled away from the lifestyle."

The mention of Dean's name sent a wave of cold through you, but you kept your face neutral. Crowley was good at finding cracks in your armor, but you weren’t going to let him in. Not tonight.

"He made his choice," you said flatly. "I made mine."

"Yes, yes, he’s playing house while you do the dirty work. How noble of him," Crowley mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you and I both know it’s eating you up inside. It’s killing you that he’s living a life that you so desperately crave with him."

You glanced at Crowley, your jaw tight. "What's your point?"

Crowley chuckled, his smile dark. "My point, darling, is that the past always catches up to us. Dean may think he can run from it, but he can’t. Sooner or later, he’ll come crawling back to this life—and to you. And when he does, what will you do? Welcome him with open arms? Or remind him of what he left behind?"

You stared at Crowley, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could pretend that Dean didn’t matter anymore, that you had moved on. But the truth was, no matter how many demons you killed or how many deals you made, there was still a part of you that longed for the life you had before everything went to hell. The part that still loved him. The piece of yur heart where Dean and Sam would wake you up in the mornings with the scents of breakfast wafting through the morning air.

But the man Dean had become—the one who chose Lisa, who walked away without a word—wasn’t the man you had fallen for. Maybe he never was.

"I don’t owe him anything," you said, though your voice sounded hollow even to you.

Crowley’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "That’s the spirit. But don’t be too quick to write him off. You never know when an old flame might reignite."

That night, alone in a dingy motel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone. You hadn’t tried calling Dean since the day he left, and you weren’t about to now. But your fingers hovered over Castiel’s number, the angel who had disappeared like smoke as Dean had done so long ago.

You had prayed to him, begged for his help, for some sign that you weren’t completely forsaken. But he, like Dean, was gone.

With a bitter sigh, you tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe the past never really stayed buried. But what did it matter? You had made your choice, too. You had become something else—something darker, harder.Something you hardly recognized when you’d glanced at your reflection.

The only thing that lingered was the ache. The unspoken words, the love that was never returned, and the haunting thought that in another life, maybe things could have been different.

But this was the life you had now, and there was no going back.

Outside, the world continued its chaotic dance of light and shadow, of good and evil. And you, standing somewhere in between, were left to hunt in the darkness. Alone.

The wind howled against the motel window, but you barely noticed as sleep finally claimed you, the weight of a broken heart your only companion, not noticing the door opening to see a figure standing in the threshold holding a quickly packed luggage bag.

[PART TWO]

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @salt-n-burn-em-all @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore

#dean winchester x reader

373 notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months ago

Text

— SUNBURN

SUMMARY : you're the wedding planner for sam's wedding, it's at the beach and… well, dean at the beach

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, jessica moore

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, some suggestiveness, shy!reader (lmaoo, or awkward, if you'd like), angst if you squint

WORD COUNT : 1.8k

A/N : title is a muse song. part of the @alphabetquest beach party prompt and the @jacklesversebingo square wedding planner au. y'all, this was new to me, but I liked embarrassing the reader and making her embarrassing and shy xx

You felt slightly guilty for not telling Sam about you and Dean.

To be fair, you didn't know they were related when you met Dean.

You met him at a local cafe, had your laptop in front of you, a couple of notes scribbled on photographs and other sheets of colourful paper strewn over the table besides a warm cup of coffee from your third refill, and a slice of pecan pie that was quickly getting colder and colder.

Dean came in when you were been busy arguing with the local florist over the phone about what Jessica wanted the flower arrangement to look like. The florist wanted to give his opinion, as if it even mattered. It wasn't his wedding, it was Jessica's.

You started to stress over having to consider calling a different florist.

Phone calls just weren't your thing despite all the work and phone calls you take due to your job, but it's still the one thing you're always nervous about doing.

You buried your fingers in your hair and nervously rubbed your fingers against the strands between your fingers as you looked through the checklist for something you'd much rather focus on.

"Careful there, sweetheart," Dean's voice turned your attention away from the screen of your laptop. "You'll pull your pretty hair out." You stared up at him, that flirty smirk on his lips made you smile subconsciously, and you turned hot with embarrassment.

You untangled your fingers from your hair to hold your wrist over the table and brushed your fingertips nervously over photographs of the beach Jessica was interested in.

You stared into his green eyes, his expenctant face made you freeze. He was smiling—tightly now, and began chewing on his lip the longer you stared like a deer caught in headlights, the amusement in his eyes dimmed, and he suddenly appeared unsure.

"Sorry, am I botherin' you?"

"No! I-" you cleared your throat, hoping the blaze in your cheeks would cease. "I was just… distracted." He smiled and looked down at the small cup of coffee in his large hands. You bit your lip to calm yourself, but then he looked up at you again, and all the words you were forming in your mind for a sentence, suddenly vanished.

"Alright," he murmured shyly, then reached into his black jacket, and pulled out a small card. "I'm gonna be straightforward here and say that you're cute." He stared down at the small rectangular paper between his fingers and placed it above the pile of papers. You blinked up at him dumbly, turning hotter and hotter. "Call me when you're not… distracted," he teased, biting his lip before stepping away and leaving the cafe.

You blinked down at the business card he left for you, his name was printed in black, his number. He was a mechanic from Kansas. A sexy one. And he thought you were cute.

And that was really what started this whole secret of yours.

You met him, not knowing he was Sam's older brother until a few days after. Days after you anxiously called his number to give him your name and plan a date. Days after you'd already had a date with him. Days after you'd both already made out heavily in his car.

You found out Dean was Sam's brother when Jessica had begged you to have dinner with them.

You were happy that she liked you that much, half-shocked and half-uncomfortable with getting closer to a client than professionally required, but you couldn't help being drawn to Jessica and her friendship after all the months that had passed.

When you got to their home, after nervously navigating through Google Maps, you'd entered to find Sam smacking Dean over the head with a rolled-up wedding magazine because he'd dozed off on the couch with a half-empty beer.

You and Dean stared at each other across the table as the four of you ate, slowly and stupidly putting the pieces together.

Dean left Kansas to come to California for Sam and Jessica's wedding. He was staying for a month before returning to Kansas as you prepared everything for the special day. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but this was definitely not it.

Of course, after your initial shock, Dean quickly became more comfortable around you.

And you were half-sure Jessica was trying to set you up with Dean while Sam tried to sway you away from his brother.

To say the least, it was a mess. One that Dean was loving.

It made you cringe to remember the day you met him, but Dean made a point to remind you as much as he could about how it happened, whenever he deemed it the right moment.

It never was the right moment to you.

To him, the right moment was whenever anyone asked how you and Dean met. You'd freeze up and be vague about it, or you'd lie and say it was through Sam and Jessica, but Dean would wait for them to leave before reminding you how it actually happened.

You came to find that with Dean, it was nearly impossible to keep something quiet.

He was so…

Well, he stole kisses whenever he had the chance, reached out to touch you whenever he could, and whispered things to you knowing he wouldn't get caught.

He wouldn't get caught.

But you, you were obvious. It was impossible to hide the way he made you feel, and really, you hated your body for betraying you that way.

You swallowed your pride and fumed internally for being so… fucking shy.

Now, here you were.

Finally, on Sam and Jessica's wedding.

Jessica had insisted that you enjoy yourself now that the main part was over. She was glowing and absolutely beautiful.

Jessica found out about you and Dean not long after, when he thought he could get away with making out with you in the hallway of Jessica's house after you'd innocently exited the restroom.

He'd surprised you, waiting a few feet away from the door. You lifted a brow at the way he casually leaned against the wall. When you stood closer, he'd turned to you, grabbed your jaw, and kissed you until you almost couldn't breathe. And Jessica had gone up to check on you and found… well, that: Dean leaning over you with his tongue shoved in your mouth while you clung desperately to his soft flannel with his fingers pressed carefully into your cheeks as he led the kiss.

At that point, you were convinced the universe enjoyed putting you in embarrassing situations.

You only dreaded the beach party, the reception that Jessica had insisted you relax and enjoy after all your hard work.

The dread wasn't really because of Dean, it was because of you. The way he made you feel so… shy. It was annoying.

What happened to the way you couldn't shut up when someone pissed you off? What happened to the way you stood your ground and held a man's gaze whenever he flirted with you?

Of course that may be because Dean was Dean, he was hot, and he was funny, and he was smart, and he was kind, and he was confident, and he was sweet, and he was romantic. Basically, it was because you liked him, but you begged the universe to tell you why you had to get tongue-tied and turn scarlet in his presence. Even after all the time that had passed. Why couldn't you just get used to it?

You couldn't really complain. Seeing Dean… almost naked… with those fucking shorts hanging low on his hips. His toned stomach and the trail of light, fine hair leading downwards…

You were thirsty.

You took a sip of your cool piña colada.

Jessica and her bridesmaids continued to gush about weddings, romance, their boyfriends, and their future dreams.

All you could do was focus on Dean. You almost didn't want to think about what they were talking about and associate it with Dean…

He was excited.

About the sand crunching beneath his feet, about the salty breeze that stuck to his skin and tousled his brown hair, about the kiss of bright sunlight against his gorgeous freckled skin.

It made you smile and like him even more.

Eventually, Jessica and her bridesmaids got drunk enough that they started to dance and sing with each other.

And you'd found yourself falling into Dean's gravity.

He held you in his arms and swayed slightly to the song playing on the speakers, his beer hung loosely in his hands behind you. He seemed sober as he gazed down at you, arousing that stupid hot blush on your cheeks.

You huffed and looked at the waves as they rolled and swayed, away and towards you.

You heard the dull glass thump of his mostly-empty beer bottle hitting the sand. One of his hands was warm and the other was cool as they moved up your back. You sivered at his touch and bit your lip, smilling to yourself as your gaze moved up towards the horizon.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, playing with the thin strap of your bikini. Your breath hitched when his fingers suddenly crossed over your shoulder to graze the side of your breast.

"Huh?" You stared up at him.

His intuituve green eyes looked into you. Instead of repeating the question, which took you a few moments to process anyway, Dean took your hand, and gently kissed your salty wrist. You clenched your hand tightly, your heartbeat thudded loudly at his affection, and you bashfully pulled your hand out of his grasp.

He was sneaky and brought his other hand to your cheek. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his fingers tangled lightly in you knotted hair.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, stepping so close to you, flashes of hotter images of being this pressed up against him flooded your mind.

You uttered his name quietly, hoping that no one was watching you. The water lapped at your feet, cooling you down and urging you to give in.

You didn't know if the small waves were making you dizzy or if it was Dean who tenderly brought you closer to his lips.

He kissed you slowly, breathed you in deeply, and mumbled against your parted mouth, "do you want me to stay?"

In an instant, you imagined morning and evenings with him. You imagined visitng the beach more often, getting older, kissing more, loving more of him. He kissed you as you pictured the life you could have if he decided to leave his entire life behind in Kansas and move to California with you.

Would he regret it? Would you?

Dean pulled away from your mouth and licked the taste of you from his plump, pink lips. You smiled and hid your face by looking down at his freckled chest, tracing a random path of freckles with your eyes and fingers. "I'd like it if you stayed, Dean. Just know… I'd go anywhere with you, too, if it's what you want."

Dean chuckled softly, his calloused hands cupped your hot cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. He held you close, placed his chin on top of your head, and mumbled, "Yeah, we still have time to figure it out."

taglist

@rominaszh // @livingdeadmak // @lanassmarty // @murdockscumsock // @zepskies

@candy-coated-misery0731 // @stxrgazer03 // @epsilonsagittarii // @lyarr24 // @spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28 // @deansbbyx // @lickmybawls // @jackles010378 // @winchstrdean

@deanwinchestersgirl87 // @the-achievementhunter // @deanfreakingwinchester // @k-slla // @madzzz0797

@laylaackles // @fanfic-n-tabulous // @kristophalis // @mrlonelycat // @taylortots-world

@evznackles // @ohnosy // @angelbabyyy99 // @girls-alias // @kezibear

@kaleldobrev // @iwishiwasntreal // @blackcherrywhiskey // @dayhsdreaming @littlemadamred

@xshortputax // @il0vebeingdelulu // @isadumbass // @take-it-on-the-run // @impala1967rollingthroughtown

@pasteldecrack // @imsapphine // @gravesphillip // @illicithallways // @saturnsooya

@vyctorya // @deanwinchesters67impala // @jgdhmeynsgn // @cheyennep3107 // @lovelystoriesaj

@deanbutwithmommyissues // @pieandmonsters // @simpfordeanwinchester03 // @klaus-mikaelsonslut // @daisydark

@hobby27 // @devilslittlehelper // @forever-sleepy00 // @pascalsdarlin

or follow @deanbrainrotlibrary for fic notifications

main masterlist

jacklesversebingo24 masterlist

alphabetquest2024 masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#jacklesversebingo24 #alphabetquestsubmission #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n

285 notes · View notes

cheynovak · 4 months ago

Text

Tell me what it takes

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: REQUEST: Dean realizes after a near-death experience that he has nothing if Y/N isn’t in his life. He searches for her and finds her living in Lawrence, Kansas. When he shows up at her door, she’s shocked but lets him in. Dean struggles with small talk before finally confessing realized he needed her.

Warnings: 18+ romance, nothing too explicit, mostly making love, hurt, couple issues, friends to lovers,

English is not my first language

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The sound of gravel crunching under the Impala’s tires was a familiar comfort as Y/N stared out the window, her mind miles away from the endless Kansas road. She had been living with Dean and Sam for years now.

It had become her life—hunting, saving people, the usual. She had loved Dean for years, they started out as neighbours, friends, but over time, something had shifted between her and Dean, something she wasn’t sure either of them knew how to define.

She and Dean were inseparable, tied together by years of shared grief, laughter, and battles fought side by side. She had helped him take care of baby Sam when their father disappeared on one of his many hunts.

Dean and Y/N had leaned on each other back then, and as the years passed, that connection deepened in a way that was never spoken about, but always felt just right.

Now, though, feeling it wasn’t enough anymore. She needed more, needed to know, hear it he felt the same for her.

They were staying in a rundown motel outside of town for the night, waiting on a lead Sam had tracked down for their next hunt. As soon as they checked in, Sam disappeared to do more research, leaving Y/N and Dean alone in the room they would share.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her heart heavy as she watched Dean peel off his jacket and toss it over the chair by the window. His movements were as casual as ever, but her mind was racing.

It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, tangled together in moments of passion when the night was too long, and the world seemed too heavy.

They’d kissed, hooked up, and fallen asleep wrapped around each other more times than she could count, Dean had been her first and if it was up to her, also her last. It felt right with him but it always felt… temporary. As if none of it mattered when the morning came.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She knew he cared for her, more than just a one night thing, she noticed he'd stopped sleeping with other girls, he was protective of her and when a man looked at her in a way he didn't like, he held her.

Those are boyfriends trades, right? Than why didn't he ever admitted it to her, or did he made it official?

"Dean," she said quietly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. He glanced over at her, brow furrowing when he saw the expression on her face. “What’s up sweetheart?”

She bit her lip, trying to find the words that had been building up for so long. "We need to talk." Dean stiffened, his jaw tightening slightly. "About what?"

"About us." Her eyes met his, searching for some kind of reassurance, but she found nothing there but his usual guarded expression. "Dean… I need more."

His brow furrowed deeper. "More? What do you mean?"

"I mean… I can’t keep doing this. The kissing, the hooking up, the sharing a bed… It’s not enough anymore. I need to know where we stand. I need to know that this isn’t just some… convenient arrangement for you."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Y/N, you know I care about you."

"That’s not what I’m asking," she said, her voice wavering. "I need to hear it, Dean. I need to know you... love me, like I love you."

The room fell into an oppressive silence, the only sound the faint hum of the highway outside.

Dean looked away, his face hardening in that familiar way whenever emotions came into play. His defense mechanism.

"Y/N, I…" he started, then shook his head. "I don’t do this type of things. You know that. I’m not good with—"

"With emotions? With feelings?" she cut in, her frustration rising. "I’ve been with you for years, Dean! I know you better than anyone, I never asked for anything, and I’m telling you, begging you, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that this isn’t just… nothing to you."

Dean’s eyes flicked back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something there. Fear. Pain. But then, just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by his usual bravado. He scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re overthinking this, Y/N. You know how I feel. Why do we need to say it?"

"Because I deserve to know!" Her voice cracked, and she stood up from the bed, her chest heaving with pent-up emotion. "I deserve to be more than just the girl you hook up with when you feel like it. I deserve to be loved, Dean. Really loved."

Dean’s eyes flashed, and he stepped toward her, his own frustration boiling over. "I’m doing the best I can, Y/N! This is who I am. You knew that from the beginning. You think I don’t care? I wouldn’t hold you all damn night! I wouldn't kiss you good morning! I wouldn't you know... hold your hand and stuff"

"But you won’t say it," she said softly, her voice breaking. "You won’t say you love me. You only kiss me when no one is around, you only hold me or my hand when you think someone is interested in me. Why is it so hard to tell me, just me Dean, you don't need to shout it of the roof!"

He clenched his fists, his expression hardening once again. "What do you want from me? I can’t just… say it because you want to hear it."

Y/N’s heart shattered at his words, the final nail in the coffin. She had hoped—prayed—that he would give her something, anything. But instead, he was pushing her away.

She took a shaky breath, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I can’t do this anymore, Dean."

His face paled, his bravado slipping for a moment. "Y/N, don’t act like that, don't —"

"No," she said, her voice firm now, despite the tears threatening to fall. "I can’t keep waiting for you to love me the way I deserve, the way I have loved you since you moved in next door."

"I ran away from home to help you and your dad take care of Sammy. I did anything for you..." a trembling sigh left her "I’m done."

Without another word, she grabbed her bag from the floor and headed for the door. Dean stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock, but he didn’t stop her. He didn’t call her back.

As she walked out of the room, the weight of everything hit her at once.

Years of friendship, of love—unspoken and unacknowledged—crashed down around her. She didn’t want to leave him, but she couldn’t keep sacrificing her heart for someone who wasn’t willing to give her theirs in return.

The door clicked shut behind her, and as she stepped into the cool night air, Y/N let the tears fall. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere was better than staying in a place where love was always just out of reach.

Inside the motel room, Dean stood alone, staring at the door. His chest ached, his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to go after her, to pull her back and tell her everything she needed to hear. But the words stuck in his throat, buried beneath years of walls he had built to keep himself from getting hurt.

And so, for the first time in a long time, Dean was alone. Completely, utterly alone, the only thing he truly loved and cared for in this world, beside his brother, just turned her back and walked away.

A year later

The rain fell in steady sheets, drumming against the roof of the Impala as Dean pulled up outside a modest, two-story house on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. It had been almost a year since Y/N walked out of his life, and for most of that time, he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. That he didn’t need her.

But he’d been wrong.

The last hunt had been a brutal reminder of his mortality. He had come inches from death, pinned under the crushing weight of a creature whose claws had torn into him, leaving deep gashes that still ached. In those moments when the world started to blur and his strength began to fade, there had only been one thought in his mind.

Y/N.

He had always pushed people away, afraid of losing them. But in doing so, he had lost the one person who truly mattered. The one person who had seen him, broken and scarred, and stayed anyway.

Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he stared at the house. He didn’t know what he would say, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t leave without trying. He couldn’t lose her again.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car, the rain soaking through his jacket as he approached the front door. His heart pounded in his chest as he raised his hand and knocked. Each second that passed felt like an eternity until finally, the door creaked open.

Y/N stood there, her eyes widening in shock. She hadn’t changed much—her hair was a little longer, and there was a hint of weariness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. But she was still Y/N, the woman who had always been a part of his life, whether he’d admitted it or not.

“Dean,” she said, her voice soft but guarded.

He gave her a small, nervous smile, shifting awkwardly. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the past year hanging heavy between them. Finally, Y/N stepped aside, opening the door wider. “You should come in. It’s pouring out there.”

Dean nodded, stepping inside. The house was warm, cozy. A far cry from the cheap motels and the constant chaos of the life they’d once shared. He could see small touches of her everywhere—books stacked on the coffee table, a blanket draped over the arm of the couch. It was a home, something Dean had never been able to give her.

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the wall as she watched him. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck. He hadn’t exactly planned this out. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a half-hearted smile. “I was in the neighborhood?”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Try again.”

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. “Okay, fine. I suck at this, you know that. I—” He stopped, his gaze dropping to the floor as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t sure there were any.

Y/N didn’t say anything, just waited. And for the first time in a long time, Dean felt like he needed to be honest. No walls. No bravado.

“I almost died,” he said quietly, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

Her expression softened for a moment, concern flashing across her face. “Dean…”

“No, listen,” he interrupted, his voice firmer now. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About us. About… everything. And for a long time, I didn’t get it. I thought I could just keep doing what I was doing—going through the motions, keeping everyone at arm’s length. But when I was lying there, bleeding out, the only thing I could think about was you. And how I had nothing if you weren’t there.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“I messed up,” Dean admitted, his voice thick with guilt. “I was so damn scared to say what you needed to hear because… I’ve lost everyone, Y/N. My dad, my mom, even Sam, for a while. I didn’t want to lose you too, so I thought if I didn’t say it—if I didn’t make it real—then maybe you’d stick around. But I was wrong. And I know I don’t deserve it, but… I’m asking for another chance. A real one.”

Y/N’s arms dropped to her sides as she took a slow, steady breath. The silence that followed was almost unbearable, and Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. She was right to make him wait, to make him feel the weight of his actions. He hadn’t just broken her heart—he’d broken their bond. And that wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few words.

But he needed to try.

"You hurt me, Dean," she said, her voice soft but strong. "For years, I was there for you. I gave you everything, and you couldn’t give me the one thing I needed. Do you know how hard it was to leave? To walk away, knowing you’d never say what I wanted to hear?"

Dean swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I know. And I’m sorry. God, I’m so damn sorry. I should’ve told you… I should’ve told you how much...

I love you."

The words hung in the air, thick with the emotion he had been too afraid to show for so long. For a moment, Y/N just stared at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She had waited so long to hear those words, but hearing them now, after everything, wasn’t the easy fix either of them had hoped for.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Or are you just saying it because you’re scared to be alone?"

Dean stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I mean it. I’ve always meant it. I just… I didn’t know how to say it. But I’m saying it now because it’s true. I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you. Really be with you. No more half measures. No more running away."

Y/N’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. She didn’t find any. Slowly, she exhaled, wiping at the tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"I can’t promise it’ll be easy, Dean," she said quietly. "You hurt me. It’s going to take time for me to trust you again."

Dean nodded, his expression serious. "I know. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just… don’t tell me it’s too late."

Y/N looked at him for a long moment, and then, finally, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. She didn’t say anything, but the way she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, told him everything he needed to know.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself breathe. He let himself feel.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.

He was home.

The warmth of her body pressed against his was like coming home after years of being lost. Y/N lifted her head from his chest, her eyes searching his face. There was something new between them now—vulnerability, raw and unguarded. For the first time, there were no walls between them, no unspoken words hanging in the air.

Dean’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, her lips parting slightly, and without thinking, he leaned in. Their lips met, soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters after everything that had passed between them. But it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, years of longing and unresolved tension flooding between them like a dam that had finally broken.

His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more urgent. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, needing him the way he had always needed her. The fire between them had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was consuming them both.

"Y/N," he breathed between kisses, his voice low and husky. "God, I love you."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but this time, she believed them. There was no hesitation, no fear in his voice. Just truth.

Clothes were shed in a frenzy, their hands tugging and pulling, desperate to feel skin against skin. They stumbled their way to the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, their lips and hands exploring each other like it was the first time all over again.

Dean guided her down onto the bed with a tenderness that took her breath away, his body hovering over hers, his gaze never leaving her. "I should’ve said it sooner," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a wave of heat through her. "I should’ve told you how much you mean to me. How much I love you."

Her breath hitched as his lips moved down her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone, her hands gripping his shoulders as her body arched into his. "Dean…"

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her again, slow and deep. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with a quiet intensity that made her heart race. This wasn’t just another night—it was everything they had both been holding back for years.

Dean’s hands roamed her body, gentle but sure, like he was memorizing every inch of her. The way he touched her was different now—there was no rush, no urgency to fill the silence. He wanted to savor this moment, to show her with every caress, every kiss, how much she meant to him. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips as he whispered, "I love you," over and over, like a promise.

He entered her slowly, their bodies moving together in perfect sync, the connection between them electric, yet soft and intimate. Each thrust, each movement, was filled with meaning, with the words he hadn’t been able to say before but was now making sure she knew. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling as their bodies moved together in a slow, sensual rhythm.

"You're everything," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged with emotion. "Everything I ever needed. I’m never letting you go again."

Y/N’s hands gripped his back, her nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built between them. She could feel every emotion he poured into her, not just with his words, but with the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. And for the first time, she believed it—she believed him.

Their pace quickened, the room filled with the sounds of their shared passion, their breathing heavy, their bodies entwined as they climbed higher together. Dean’s lips never left her skin, whispering sweet, broken confessions of love and regret, of promises for the future.

When they finally reached the peak, it wasn’t just about the physical release—it was about everything they had been through, everything they had lost and found again. It was raw, and emotional, and when Y/N cried out his name, she knew that this time, things were different. They were whole.

Dean collapsed beside her, pulling her close, his arms wrapping around her as their breathing slowed. His lips brushed against her forehead, and in the quiet aftermath, he whispered again, "I love you."

This time, there were no doubts. No walls.

She looked up at him, her hand resting on his chest as she smiled softly, her heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. "I love you too, Dean."

And in that moment, lying together in the quiet of the night, they both knew this was the beginning of something real—something they should’ve had all along.

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27

@call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @yvonneeeee

#jensen ackles #fanfic #jensen fucking ackles #x reader #fluff #dean winchester #spn #smut #supernatural dean #supernatural fandom #deanwinchester #dean x reader #spn fanart

216 notes · View notes

mizutsugi · 5 days ago

Text

cowgirl ☆ (dean winchester x reader

↳ synopsis: you ride the mechanical bull at some texas dive bar, and dean really can't keep his mind out of the gutter...

↳word count: 2,052

↳cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab reader, oral sex (f recieving), p in v (wrap it up!!!), cowgirl (duh..), a bit of sub dean if you squint, not proof read!

You were about five shots in at a little dive bar in Texas, slamming the shot glass down onto the sticky dark oak counter as Dean followed behind you. The place was crowded- it was a Friday night, after all. The room smelled like booze and old leather, and the walls were a deep red, littered with little photos and mementos… an old acoustic guitar, a framed picture of a longhorn, an old Budweiser sign- the works. Whatever shyness you had was left at the door, and with all the booze starting to hit your system, you felt like you could do anything. That’s when your eyes landed on a faux bull in the middle of the dimly lit room, surrounded by blue padded foam and a ring. You smiled and pointed at it, trying to get Dean to follow.

“I wanna ride it.” You said.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart? You’ve had a few.” Dean chuckled, currently sipping on a whiskey.

“Mhm.” You nodded before hopping off the barstool, dotting your way around the crowded bar before you made it to the bullpen. Dean was frankly shocked you went for it so quickly, and tried to follow you, pushing through a few people in the process.

You threw a leg clumsily over the elastic cord separating the bullpen and the hardwood floor, stumbling over the soft foam before grasping onto the robotic bull. Suddenly a man appeared behind you- hell, maybe he was there the whole time- and tapped your shoulder.

“You sober enough to be doing this, missus?” He asked with a southern drawl. He had a jean jacket on and a cowboy hat, and you gave him the kindest smile you could summon.

“Yes sir, promise!” You grinned, swinging your leg over the bull and mounting it. You playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on your head. The man just laughed and shook his head, too spent to fight it. You looked around for Dean, who was now leaning on the cord with his arms folded over the strong material, smirking at you. In his head, he was making a bet with himself that you’d last 10 seconds tops.

“Alrighty, just hang tight…” The man ducked out of the ring and grabbed what you assumed to be the controller. He pressed a button and the bull, big and black, started moving.

You laughed and gripped onto the saddle mount, trying to remember everything from those old western flicks Dean loved to watch back home. You lifted your hips, back arching as you tried to remain as steady as possible while the bull lurched forward. Your thighs squeezed tightly around the machinery, your hold on the peg in front of you steady. You kept giggling to yourself, looking back at Dean with a wild grin on your face. He smiled back, nodding his head in approval. If he was being honest, all he could focus on was the way your hips rolled and your hair bounced on your collarbone, done up into two cute braided pigtails. You were wearing his flannel and a lacy white tank top underneath, that showed just enough.

A crowd slowly emerged around the pen, with people holding drinks and cheering you on as you passed the thirty second mark. The bull started moving more rapidly, and your thighs gripped the beast tighter, while the upper half of your torso moved freely as to dodge the sharp movements. You whooped and hollered, freeing one arm from the mount to grab on to your (stolen) cowboy hat and tip it to the crowd before waving it frantically in the air. You could hear Dean clapping for you, cheering your name as you made it past a minute. You looked over to him as he watched you, both enamored and proud, and you smiled back. You put the hat back on your head and watched as a few of the patrons of the bar joined in on the cheering. The bull was getting quicker and more frantic, bucking you around all over the place. You tried your best, but your grip loosened and your thighs started spazzing out, losing their hold around the animal. You let out one last cheer before getting thrown off the bull, landing with a gentle thud on the plush padding beneath you. You laughed as the people around you clapped, including the operator. He retrieved his hat, which had fallen off your head when you fell, and gave you a firm handshake and a “well done” after you pulled yourself back up. You felt a bit dizzy, and looked around for Dean, who was now ducking below the cord and offering you a sturdy hand to pull yourself up by.

You smiled warmly at him before taking it, allowing him to pull you out of the ring. He dropped your hand but quickly went in for a kiss, pecking you on the lips before giving your shoulder an approving pat.

“You’re a damn professional, babe.” He said.

“Aw, shucks…” You smiled sheepishly, dusting your knees off before taking his hand as the two of you walked out of the bar and out the door, feeling the humid night air hit your faces as you stepped out into the warm darkness. You both headed for the Impala before driving back to the motel you were holed up in during the hunt.

The second you made it through the door, Dean was all over you. He was holding you tight, pulling in before kissing you. You laughed, pulling away after his third kiss.

“Someone’s ancy, huh?” You cocked a brow, noting how his green eyes scanned all over your body while he held you close.

“Can’t help it. It was hot.” He mumbled lowly, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“What, how good I was on the bull?” You asked.

“M-hm…” He hummed, the hand on your lower back inching lower and lower until it fell over the curve of your ass.

“You’re such a horndog…” You smirked and rolled your eyes, but leaned into his touch. He slowly walked you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell backward, allowing him to climb over you until he was hovering above your face, his eyes obsessively roaming over you. He lowered his face down to yours and kissed you again, this time hungrier and more desperate. He slowly moved across your jaw, then down to your exposed neck and collarbone. You moaned softly as he sucked on your neck, his hands wandering down to the flannel around you and pulling at the fabric until it came off, taking his lips off you momentarily so he could pull your arms out of the sleeves. While you were still lifted a bit off the bed, he pulled the white tank off carefully over your head, leaving you in a white silky bra and low rise blue jeans. He also took that time to throw off his own shirt, and you had about two seconds to admire his built chest before he was back on your neck. He kissed and sucked and bit, making you whimper and reach up to clutch his short hair. He snaked his hands underneath your back and fiddled with the clasps of your bra until he successfully undid them, pulling the straps down and revealing your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…” He murmured from your neck, slowly tracing his lips down the valley of your chest between your tits. His hands reached up to feel the soft, supple skin, calloused fingers occasionally pinching your nipples and rolling over the sensitive buds. You let out small whimpers that made him harden beneath you, bucking his hips into the mattress as he worked his way down your stomach. His occupied hands left your chest and wandered down to the waistline of your jeans, gently pushing them down your thighs and, with one swift tug, off your legs. He threw them to the side, focusing on the lace panties you had on. He practically groaned at the site of a wet spot in the middle, where you were worked up. He looked up to your yearning eyes for permission before you feverishly nodded your head in approval. You watched him pull at the thin fabric until you were left completely bare.

He wasted no time connecting himself to your core, tongue lapping at your clip. You moaned, hands practically flying to his short locks to stabilize yourself. He had to admit, you pulling on his hair and moaning so sweetly shortened his patience a bit. He was skillfully working your body, sucking and licking in all the right spots between your folds, hands moving to grasp your hips, keeping you pinned in one spot. You couldn’t help but roll them, though, pleasure coming in waves as he hit your sensitive bud over and over again.

“D-Dean…” You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Without you finishing your sentence, he knew, and his unrelenting tongue carried you to your (quick) release. You shuttered, feeling your body tremble and thighs quiver as you came down, his face pulling away from you to reveal his stubble covered in slick. He smiled in a way that was downright devious, so smug that he knew how quickly he could make you come undone. Giving you time to recover, he pulled his pants off, allowing the denim to pool at his ankles before kicking them off, then releasing himself from his boxers. Your mouth all but watered at the sight of his cock, already pink and slightly glazed with precum. He pumped himself a few times before positing himself at your entrance, emerald eyes locking with yours with eager, but gentle, anticipation.

“Breathe in for me, pretty girl.” He said, giving you time to collect your breath before pushing in. You whined, feeling him slowly fill you as to let you get used to the feeling. As his hips slowly pulled in and out, each movement turning pain into pleasure, you reached to grip his strong arms. He groaned lowly, feeling you tighten around him, his thrusts beginning to pick up the pace.

“D…Dean..” You moaned, shakily tapping your finger against his arm.

His thrusts slowed slightly as he cautiously responded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Switch w’me.” You requested, an idea forming. He gave you a bit of a skeptical look, before pulling out and lying down beside you, a bit frustrated from the sudden separation.

You climbed over him, and his eyes suddenly lit up as realization hit him all at once. You straddled his bare lap, hovering over his cock. Your hands felt up his toned chest, nails dragging across it slightly as you admired how handsome he looked under you. He fucking whimpered, which drove you crazy and reminded you why exactly you decided to take the lead. Your hands wandered back down to his dick, lining it up with your entrance before you slowly lowered yourself down on him. You and him both moaned at the feeling of being inside each other again, your hips rolling. Your eyelids fluttered shut, allowing yourself to focus on movement rather than giving in to the urge to collapse his broad chest. You slowly lifted your hips up, then down, then up, until you were in a steady rhythm of bouncing on his cock. He moaned, hands gripping your waist softly and helping guide you up and down. You whimpered and whined at the feeling of his length pumping in and out of you, your core strength starting to falter as you felt yourself getting closer.

“I’m… fuck…” You could barely get a word out, breaths getting shallower and shallower as you focused on chasing your release.

“Cum for me, babe…” He mumbled slowly, feeling himself also getting close as your walls tightened around him. You did, almost immediately collapsing on top of him, head falling to his collar as you faltered around him. Feeling you squeeze around his length, he came, hands grasping around your back as you laid on top of him. You smiled, feeling his rough palms slowly start to rub soothing circles on your back as you both recovered.

“My pretty cowgirl…”

↳a/n: my writers block is SO BAD :( i promise i will try to get to all my requests asap! this was in fact not a request but like... something possessed me and i needed to finish this draft. thinking so much about dean rn... ughhhh

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #need this man biblically #especially season 1-3 dean

116 notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 5 months ago

Text

You’d never know (Part 1)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.3k

Warnings : angst, hurt/no comfort, spoilers s13, Dean is an asshole.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the world slowly enveloping in darkness. The same could be said for Y/n's mind. Dark clouds of hurt and loneliness lingering in the air, encasing her in an impenetrable bubble of insecurities. It was hard time, stating that is an understatement. It was a dire situation. She thought back to how she got here.

When Jack was born, his mother died giving birth to him. Lucifer arrived at cabin to take Jack away. He killed Castiel. Mary fought Lucifer pushing him inside the rift to the alternate universe, but before the rift could close Lucifer pulled her in with him.

Y/n, Sam and Dean watched in terror as Mary fell through and the rift closed. While Sam panicked, Dean was horrified. He couldn't lose his mom, not again. Y/n let out a gasp, her mouth dropped open as the dread settled in. She knew Dean would lose it, he's not gonna sit back knowing his mom is stuck in the apocalypse world with the Devil himself.

After burning Cas and Kelly's bodies, the trio took Jack back to the bunker. The air was tense, Dean wasn't happy with the decision. He didn't trust Jack, he didn't want him anywhere near him, his brother or his girlfriend. It was because of the Nephilim that he lost his mother.

Y/n was worried, Dean had closed off, he was distant. Most of all, he was angry. All the time. He constantly snapped at Sam, brushed her off any given moment. He wouldn't even look at Jack. The kid was trying to make good in Dean's eyes but he just shurgged him off.

Dean started to unwind a bit after the shifter case, and even more when Jack brought Cas back. Y/n was relieved that Dean was coming back to his normal self. After Jack accidentally killed the security guard, he decided to leave. Until he could control his powers, he wouldn't come back. Y/n was worried about the kid leaving on his own but she had faith in him.

"Hey!" Dean said bringing Y/n out of her thoughts. "You seem lost."

"Just thinking." She shrugged closing the book in front of her and putting it back in its place on the shelf. "You need something?" She asked tersely. She wasn't trying to be mean, but lately she didn't feel like he wanted her. After he brushed her off so many times, she didn't bother him.

Dean could hear the formality in her voice, and he knew he deserved it. He had been too preoccupied with his concerns to realise he'd been not only neglecting her but hurting her in the process, when all she wanted to do was help. "Just wanted to say I'm sorry." He gauged her expressions to see how bad he had fucked up.

Instead of speaking, she gave him a look. He couldn't quite read what was it supposed to mean. He chewed on his lower lip, leaning back against the table. With a loud sigh he moved towards her. Laying his hands gently on her waist.

"Dean." She reprimanded. She knew what he was apologising for, but she didn't need his apology. She wanted him to talk to her. She's told him a thousand times that she wants him to communicate. She knows it's hard for him but she needs him to express himself, she needs him to have healthy coping mechanisms. She doesn't want him to shut her out or resorting to alcohol.

"I know, I know." He rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. It wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

"I just need you to communicate with me, Dean. We're in this together. For better or worse. Next time, don't shut me out. We'll get through this. We always do." Dean nodded, his green eyes looking at her.

"Yeah." He placed a kiss on her head. "I promise."

When Jody called on a supposed lead on Jack, the trio went to find him. When they finally found Jack, he was with a girl, who ran away as soon as she saw the trio. Jack confessed that he was trying to help bring Mary back.

"That girl is a powerful dream-walker, her name is Kaia. She can help us." Jack said.

"You thought good kid. We'll find Kaia and bring Mary back." Y/n said patting Jack on the back.

When they finally found Kaia, she refused to help. She said that it was scary, and that she cannot get them anywhere other than The Bad Place, Dean's patience was running thin, he was growing frustrated, his mind was going off the rails knowing the key to getting his mother back is right in front of him but refusing to help. Sam tried to ask Kaia politely but then Dean pulled his gun from his jacket and undid the safety.

"Get in the car." He said calmly. He was anything but calm.

"Dean." Y/n and Sam warned. He pointed his gun at the young girl and Y/n moved in front of him. "Dean, this is not the way to convince her. You're not thinking straight."

"It's my Mom, Y/n." He growled.

"I know Dean I understand but-"

"No you don't!" He exclaimed. "You'd never know how I feel Y/n. You've never had a mom." Dean yelled and the atmosphere fell completely silent. The only sound audile was the woosh of air. Y/n let out a gasp taking a step back. "You wanted me to communicate huh? So listen to me and listen to me good. You don’t know how I feel, I need my mom back and" he pointed his gun at Kaia "she's gonna come with us either way. And you're gonna move out of the way."

"Dean." Sam exclaimed his eyes widened. He wasn't sure what possessed Dean to say all that but he went too far this time.

It was true that Y/n never knew her mom, she was barely two months old when her parents gave her up. It wasn't until she was thirteen she found out that her parents didn't want her since they were too young to be parents. She had told Dean about her longing for her parents but she never thought he'd use it against her.

Without a word she moved aside, unblocking his path to the dream walker. He motioned the girl with his gun to move and she got into the car, Jack followed. With his jaw clenched, Dean got into the drivers seat and slammed the door.

"Y/n." Sam started, "I'm so sorry. Dean he's..."

"Go Sam." Was all she said.

Sam approached her with hesitant steps, he hugged her tightly. "I'm really sorry." He whispered. Dean watched the two in the rear veiw mirror, the anger flushing away and guilt settling in. He knew he regretted those words the moment he said it but he was far too gone in the moment to realise. He turned his head to the front as he heard Sam slide into the passenger's seat. The air was thick with tension as they drove off to South Dakota.

Y/n wouldn't lie, sometimes she thought that Dean didn't need her as much as she needed him, she often thought he might leave her but never in a million years did she think it'd be this way. She never expected him to hit where it hurts the most. In that moment, each and every feeling resurfaced. The feelings she tried so hard to suppress, the feelings of being unwanted, of not being enough.

She can't ever forgive him and won't ever forgive Dean Winchester.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #sam and dean #spn fanfic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #sam winchester x y/n #nini writes

187 notes · View notes

scoobydoodean · 1 year ago

Text

Dean teaching Sam how to fix the Impala | 3.07 Fresh Blood

#good gifs with free tools challenge #3.07 #my smart bby #deans mechanical mind #the flannel business #factoid boy

288 notes · View notes

aylacavebear · 6 months ago

Text

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 1

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5393

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1

You grew up hearing about soulmates, but since you were raised by your Aunt Ellen, it was something you weren’t sure was even true. She’d shown you the mark that had shown up on her hip, your uncle’s name, when she’d turned sixteen. Soulmates clearly were a thing, but you were skeptical, even as a child.

“Hey, you gonna take care of the customers or just stand there daydreamin?” Ellen asked you.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, tending to the men at the bar.

How did I end up working here, of all places?

Your mind constantly drifted these days, and it started a month ago. Your twenty-fifth birthday was only three months away. Jo continually teased you when she found you off in your head during work hours. Then there was your Aunt Ellen, who was getting more worried about you as the days passed.

The music from the jukebox sounded far away, almost muffled as you absentmindedly took care of the tasks of cleaning tables, the bar, restocking bottles, and filling drinks. Guys would flirt with you, but you’d only give them that fake smile and move on.

It was the birthday you’d been waiting for, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone. You were turning sixteen, and you’d finally see the name of your soulmate. Thanks to your aunt, you had gotten your hopes up.

But the day came and went, and nothing appeared. You had checked everywhere, even behind your ears. There was nothing. It took months to pull out of that depression, especially when those close to you asked about it. You also felt like some sort of freak. In all the research you’d done, you couldn’t find anything about not getting the mark when you turned sixteen.

“Geeze, Y/N. You’re really out of it today. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ellen asked you, pulling you from your memories.

“Sorry. My mind seems to have a mind of its own today,” you sighed, glancing around the bar for a moment.

“You still bummed about the soulmate thing?” she asked you sincerely, in the way she did when she was gently trying to get you to talk.

You just shrugged your shoulders before taking off your apron, “I have to go help Bobby at the garage again.”

“Is it that time already?” Ellen asked, glancing at the clock, then sighed. “Alright. Tell the old grump I said hi, and don’t let him work you too hard.” That made you chuckle, “He never does, and I’ll let him know.”

Again, your mind drifted as you drove down the semi-busy streets to Bobby’s garage. He and your Aunt had been friends for a long time, so he was practically family, as was his wife, Jodi. Growing up, you’d spent half your time in the garage, helping Bobby fix cars.

Sioux Falls wasn’t a big town, but wasn’t tiny either. You knew most of the people who lived there, and they knew you. It was more like more of them knew of you, the girl with no soulmate. You sighed as you drove your 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400, a gift from Bobby you had to fix up, down the lonely road leading to his garage.

“Got something for ya, kid, but you gotta fix her up,” Bobby told you when you showed up for your shift that hot summer afternoon.

“I told you. You don’t have to get me a present this year,” you groaned.

A year ago, you began hating your birthdays, and you didn’t want to celebrate this one. You begrudgingly followed him to his garage, then to the side of it, where you noticed the tarp over something.

Bobby walked over and pulled the tarp off, revealing the shell of a 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400. You had fallen in love with muscle cars as a kid, watching The Dukes of Hazzard. Your jaw hit the floor as you ran over to her like a kid on Christmas.

He was smiling from ear to ear as he watched you look over everything, “She’s all yours, but you gotta do the work. You can’t let any other mechanic touch her. I’ll answer any questions, but I ain’t helpin' either.”

“Are you serious, Uncle Bobby?” you asked excitedly, popping the hood of the beat-up frame.

A small smile crossed your expression with that memory as you pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s garage and parked in the back. It seemed like so long ago, but it was one of your fondest memories that had made your birthday not so bad.

“I’m here,” you hollered, heading over to the car you’d been working on for almost a week at this point.

“How was the bar?” he asked, joining you in the garage.

“I was a space cadet, and Aunt Ellen is worried about me,” you replied, sliding back under the car to finish it up.

“You’re not a space cadet. I just think you can’t focus around all those people anymore. Come work at the garage, full-time,” he told you, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” you answered, tightening down a few more bolts.

“Besides, Jodi misses you being around more often,” Bobby added in an attempt to persuade your decision.

“I miss her too. Oh! Ellen said hi. I don’t know why she doesn’t text you more often,” you replied, sliding out from under the car, looking for yet another tool for yet another size bolt.

When you were in the garage, you always seemed to be able to focus. You knew Bobby had a point, and you’d been considering it for almost a month, but you weren’t about to tell him that. You wanted to let him think it was his idea.

Yeah, your mind drifted, but it was nothing like at the bar. Here, they were little snippets of memories: kids teasing you in high school, adults looking at you like you had two heads, and then there had been attempts to find a job but getting turned down everywhere due to not having the name of your soulmate on your body somewhere.

By the time your shift ended, you had the car completely finished. Looking down at the car, you stood there, covered with blotches of grease but beaming with pride.

“I’ll let the owner know she’s ready,” Bobby smiled, now standing next to you. “Think about it, though, okay?”

“I will,” you replied, giving him a hug before you headed home for the night since you’d already cleaned up the tools you’d used.

You lived in a cute little house not far from Bobby’s garage. It was the only thing that you had from your parents, along with a handful of pictures. You’d lost both of them to a car crash when you were only two, having no real memories of them.

Since you were two when you had lost them, you never asked Jodi what had happened or if anyone else was involved. You honestly didn’t want to know.

Dropping the things from your pockets on the table, you locked your door and headed to the bathroom. Your thoughts drifted again as you did your typical night routine.

“I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time finding work, sweetie. You can’t work here till you’re at least eighteen. I can’t break that law for you,” Ellen sighed.

You crossed your arms and went back outside to your car. You knew why no one in town would hire you, and it was a stupid reason. However, being a teenager still, you were all hormones and now needed to go blow off some steam.

You peeled out of the parking lot and down the road to your parent's place, which would be yours in less than a year. The drive was short due to the speed you’d chosen to go, and a cloud of dust rolled over your car when you parked out back of the house.

Between the punching bag, the target practice, and throwing your knives till your arm was sore, you had finally calmed down some. You made a call to Ellen and told her you were going to sleep at your ‘almost’ house. She didn’t like it but didn’t argue either.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, curled up in the soft bed that would eventually be your permanent room as the sun set slowly. The thought of being alone for the rest of your life hurt more than you’d ever tell anyone.

Dinner that night consisted of leftovers, and you were thankful you’d prepared them ahead of time when the week began—baked chicken, potatoes, and gravy. You were far too out of it to even worry about a vegetable.

I’ll tell Ellen tomorrow.

Finally deciding to quit working at the bar as you cleaned up dinner and headed to bed, almost feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Slipping under the covers and getting comfortable, you also felt more relaxed than usual.

—----

Two hours into your shift, and Ellen had already had to pull you out of your head a dozen times. It was Saturday, so even the morning hours were busy today. You were just thankful that you never had to cook, knowing you would have ended up burning most of the food.

“Can you at least pay attention to the ones at the bar? Jo can handle the floor today,” Ellen told you, again sounding worried.

“I’ll try,” you sighed, glancing at the men sitting there.

There was no point in apologizing again. As you began taking care of the drinks, the bell over the door dinged, signifying yet another customer. Typically, you wouldn’t have even looked up, but something pulled at you.

It was three men, none of whom you recognized, and two of them looked to be around your age, with the third being older. All three of them sat at the bar, so you went over to get them drinks.

“What’s your poison?” you asked, putting on that fake work smile and not really looking at them.

“Three beers,” the older of the three said, “And please tell Ellen to come over.”

You were slightly confused but agreed. You set their beers down in front of them, then went to find Ellen in the back. “Hey, there’s a guy out here that asked for you.”

“Did you get his name?” she asked as she dried her hands.

“No. He didn’t say. He’s with two other guys who are younger, though, if that helps?” you replied as you followed her out of the back room.

You stopped halfway down the bar, but you were still behind it, as she was now on the other side, making her way to the three of them. The older man stood, both he and Ellen smiling as they embraced in a hug, which confused you. You managed to keep up with the drinks for those at the bar but couldn’t hear what the four of them were talking about.

“Y/N, come down here and get these boys a refill,” Ellen hollered, motioning for you to go over to them.

Rolling your eyes, you did as she asked, putting on that fake smile again, “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” one of the two younger ones said to you with what looked to be a flirtatious smirk.

“Don’t be flirting with my niece, Dean. She’s still what you’d consider innocent,” Ellen scolded the one who had just spoken to you, but to you, it sounded more like a teasing sort of joking around, which made you slightly curious. “Thanks. Like I need some stranger to know that sort of thing,” you grumbled.

“Sweetie, these are the Winchesters. They’re practically family. You met them when you were little,” Ellen replied, smiling happily.

For a moment, you were somewhat dumbfounded as to what to even say. You couldn’t seem to remember meeting the three of them. Ellen introduced you to John Winchester, the father of Dean and Sam, who were four years apart in age.

“I hate to do it, Aunt Ellen, but, I need to talk to you about something before I leave in ten,” you finally told her.

“What’s up?” she asked, looking quite puzzled.

“I need to take some time off for a while,” you mumbled, feeling bad.

“Take all the time you need, sweetie. I know things have been rough for you lately,” she said softly, then she gave you a hug. “And tell that old fart to stop by sometime.”

“Thanks for understanding, and I will,” you replied, relieved as you hugged her back. Then you looked over at the Winchesters, “It was nice to have at least met the three of you since I don’t remember meeting you before now. Not sure when I’ll see you again, though.”

“How come?” John asked, seeming fairly curious.

“I’m going to be working my other job full-time for a while. It’s the love of my life, honestly,” you replied with a smile, giving John your full attention.

“What’s that, kid?” he asked, which made you wonder if perhaps he knew Bobby since Bobby called you that all the time.

“I fix cars. Hate to do it, but I have to run,” you replied quickly, heading for the door and out to your Baby. However, your heart about stopped when you saw the black 67’ Chevy Impala parked next to your Firebird.

“Damn…” you breathed out in quiet shock and awe.

Shit! I’m gonna be late.

With that thought, you shook your head, pulled your gaze from the car, and drove to Bobby’s garage for your shift. It indeed was a beautiful car, and you knew that no one in town drove one of those. Through deductive reasoning, you figured it had to belong to the Winchesters. You just weren’t sure which one. Whichever one it was, though, they loved that car, and you knew it with how well it had been taken care of.

The leaves on the trees were changing colors already, and the light breeze was finally cooler than the summer heat that you hated. However, you didn’t notice much today; you were too excited to give Bobby the news.

You knew the smile you couldn’t hide would give it away, but you stepped into his little office anyway. You didn’t even have time to say anything before he did.

Bobby was smiling from ear to ear when he looked up at you, “Nice to know Ellen didn’t give you a hard time about being here full time. You can whip those boys on the morning shift into shape for me.”

“Like they’d listen to me,” you chuckled but rolled your eyes.

“They better, since you’re gonna be their boss from here on out,” he told you seriously.

“Wait? What?” you asked, in complete surprise.

“Kid, you know your shit, and you’re good at your job. You’re better at your job than the four boys I got workin here already. I’d rather just have you than all of them 'cause I know you’d get the job done like it should be, and you never cut corners,” he explained, being completely serious.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, still shocked.

“Just say thanks and be here at six tomorrow morning. Take the afternoon off and rest up,” he smiled.

You went over and wrapped him up in a hug. He knew the only reason you worked in the garage late was to avoid the boys he had working there in the morning. You had tried doing the dating thing after your sixteenth birthday, but realized quickly that no boy wanted anything to do with you.

That night, you were still smiling, even if you were apprehensive about being someone’s boss, let alone four grown men. People in the town were mostly courteous toward you but treated you like a plague of some sort since your soulmate's name never appeared on your body.

—-------

As you got ready that morning, you attempted to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work. You gave yourself mental pep talks all morning and even on the drive, but that wasn’t helping either. Your heart was still racing as you parked out back like you usually did.

Bobby was the only one at the garage for the moment, and he even told you to breathe more than once. He explained that you’d still be working on cars, but now you’d also be keeping an eye on the boys he had working there and telling them when to take their breaks. It seemed simple enough.

Benny, Cas, Garth, and Jack were decent guys and were all friends. They’d spend time at the bar in the evenings when you were at the garage. It was how you had avoided a lot of people in the town since they really wanted nothing to do with you. The part you were worried about was interacting with them, as their boss. Bobby was standing next to you as the four of them arrived and mingled into the garage.

“Boys, meet your new boss,” Bobby said sternly, and all four of them looked up at you.

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard throughout the room as you froze under their gaze. The only one who didn’t look at you like you were a waste of space or something to avoid was Garth, and you made a mental note of that.

Something in you snapped with how they looked at you, and you laid into them before Bobby could comment on their expressions. “Look, I know that at least three of you would rather not work with me. I’m not a bitch, but I will be if I have to be. You don’t like this, there’s the door,” you told them sternly, putting your hands on your hips.

“Seriously?” Benny asked, annoyed. His Cajun accent was thick, and if it weren’t for his attitude, you probably could have listened to the man talk all day.

“Yes, Benny. She’s got the right to fire you if need be. I suggest you don’t give her a reason,” Bobby replied, crossing his arms, almost daring the man to challenge his decision.

Garth stepped forward, though, with that kind smile he always had, “I, for one, am looking forward to working with you, Y/N. You seem like a nice person, fair.”

Your expression instantly softened, and you smiled at him. “Thanks, Garth.”

“Alright, get to work,” Bobby told all of you before he headed into his office to keep an eye on things.

You turned from the four of them and headed toward the newest of the cars that had been brought in the day before. Your nerves were shot, but you were proud of yourself for standing up to the three of them. Pausing for a brief moment as you looked down at the car, you decided on something.

I’m gonna just be me. If they don’t like it, they can quit.

You turned on the radio to the classic rock station, then got to work on the car. Benny raised an eyebrow and just watched you silently before he got to work with the other three. It was odd for you with the other four working there, too. It was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself keeping an eye on them, even while you worked.

An hour into the shift, Cas had stopped working and sat on one of the barstools, sipping some water. You watched him out of the corner of your eye for a few minutes while still focusing on your current task. Five minutes later, he was back to work. You took mental note of it and focused on your task again.

Each of them did that, taking turns to sit for a few minutes, have water, and then return to work. It puzzled you, but you weren’t ready to ask them why they did it, at least not yet.

Just before nine, you heard it before you saw it. The beautiful purr of that Impala you had seen the night before. A smirk crossed your lips while you were unbolting the upper portion of the water pump for the current car in front of you.

The Impala stopped, and then she was silent. You could clearly hear three sets of footsteps heading into the garage. The four boys erupted with greetings to the Winchesters, more Dean than the other two. Even Bobby joined in.

So, they do know each other. Too bad the boys know them too. So much for maybe making a friend now.

You sighed and slid under the car, going for the bottom bolts now that the top ones were loose, completely ignoring the ruckus of greetings going on only about twenty feet away from you.

“Kid, you gonna come say hi?” you heard Bobby ask, and you realized he was standing next to you.

“I really wanted to get this finished, since the part finally came in, and this poor car has been sitting here for a week waiting,” you replied without moving out from under the car.

“Kid, don’t make me pull you outta there,” he told you a bit more sternly, and you knew he’d do it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, sliding out from under the car.

“So much for not running into you again, Sweetheart,” Dean smirked, which made you roll your eyes.

“Dean’s gonna be starting tomorrow morning. Dean, she’ll be your boss, so don’t try anything funny. She’s also practically my niece,” Bobby told him, far sterner than you’d heard him talk to anyone before, which only piqued your curiosity as to what their past entailed.

“I’ll behave, Bobby, I promise,” Dean told him, somewhat seriously.

You noticed a small twinkle in not only Dean’s eye, but also in Bobby’s. It was like there was something they both knew but weren’t saying, at least not in front of you.

“You better, boy. I got no problems telling your dad and making him fire you,” Bobby replied, glancing at John.

That was when it hit you. You’d seen the initials JW on several different pieces of paperwork and even a couple of packages that had been delivered to the garage. John was Bobby’s partner in the business, and Dean was supposed to inherit it when John passed or retired. You were a bit surprised, though, that you had the power to fire the boss's son or at least write him up if you had to.

John’s laughter filled the garage at Bobby’s statement, “If I have to get involved, you’ll be in far more trouble than just losing your job.” There was a joke in there, but you could also hear the hint of seriousness in his tone.

What do the three of them know but aren’t saying around me? This is so frustrating.

“I said I’d behave,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the car closest to him while the boys gave him a hard time. But it was there, even if only a hint of it, a smirk, and you noticed.

That was when John and Bobby both turned toward you, and for some reason, it made you nervous. “We’re having a little get-together tonight at Harvelle’s, and you’re invited. Sam graduated and is getting a full ride for law school, and that calls for a celebration,” John told you with a far softer smile than you thought the man was capable of.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” you replied, completely unsure of the idea of being around people who really wanted nothing to do with you.

“Good. Then we’ll see you there around say, seven?” John replied.

“Okay,” you answered, not sure what else to say.

Due to your attention being on John and Bobby, you missed the silent conversations going on between Dean, Sam, and the four grease monkeys on the far side of the garage. Dean was mostly watching you while Benny and Cas were telling him things, about you. Sam was also watching you, but his was more out of curiosity than anything else.

John and Bobby hung out in the office with the door closed for at least another hour. Dean and Sam were distracting the other four while they worked. You, well, you were changing out the water pump, ignoring all of them. It was what hurt the least.

While you were tightening down the bolts under the car, you noticed a pair of feet standing next to you.

“You really don’t remember us, do you?” he asked.

“Sorry. I really don’t,” you answered, focusing on the bolt that was being a pain to get to.

“Wow. Kinda surprised since we went to the same schools and grew up in the same town,” he chuckled quietly, and you realized it was Sam and not Dean. Sam had a softer voice, and he didn’t call you sweetheart.

“I’m really sorry. I was kind of a loner,” you told him and finally got the bolt tightened down.

Sliding out from under the car and looking up at him, you felt like an ant with how tall he was. You shook off the feeling, got to your feet, and bent over into the engine so you could finish bolting the water pump in place.

“I remember. I heard about what happened, or uh, I mean- what didn’t happen when you turned sixteen,” he told you with that softness you were thankful for.

You shrugged your shoulders briefly, “Doesn’t matter. At least Bobby let me work here. All I ask is that you aren’t being nice to me out of pity. I’d rather be ignored.”

“I don’t pity you. I actually wanted to tell you something I found out while I was at college. It’s rare, like it only happens to one in a billion people. A traumatic event before the age of five can leave a child too scared to get their soulmate’s name when they turn sixteen,” he explained.

You froze where you were. It was more than anything you’d been able to find, and for a moment, you wanted to hope. You quickly brushed it away, though, remembering how badly you’d felt the last time you got your hopes up.

“You gonna keep going or just leave me hanging like that?” you asked, a little sharper than you intended.

Sam took a deep breath, and you missed him glancing at his brother momentarily, “Well, what I read said that the other person still gets their soulmate’s name. The one that went through the trauma has to fully heal from it before they get their soulmate’s name.”

You rolled your eyes, “Kinda hard to heal from something I don’t remember.”

“I just wanted you to know that me and my brother don’t see you like others do, and we’d like to be your friend, if you want,” he replied, then walked away to leave you to your thoughts.

Great. I don’t even know what to do to heal that sort of thing. I don’t even remember my parents. And now, the boss’s kids want to be friends with me. No, that can’t go horribly wrong, can it? Plus, I have to go sit through a celebration with people I don’t remember and others who want nothing to do with me, even if Ellen, Bobby, and Jodi will be there.

You focused on the car but finished it quickly before the Winchesters were even ready to leave. After wiping off your hands, you closed the hood and put the tools away before driving the car out to the finished area so it could wait for its owner to pick it up. When you headed back inside, your eyes were only on the office door, which was still closed. You didn’t see Dean watching you again.

“Hey, Bobby. Cars finished. I didn’t see anything else out back. What do you want me to work on?” you asked, setting the keys on his desk so he could get the paperwork together.

“How about you give Dean the tour? Show him where everythings at?” John suggested with a smirk before Bobby could say a word. “I figured Benny would do that, since they seem like friends,” you replied, not wanting to interrupt the six of them.

“I’m sure he could, but he won’t. You’re their boss. Comes with the territory,” John told you.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied in a slight mumble, heading back out of the office, closing the door, and then leaning on it.

As you crossed your arms, you watched the six of them. They looked like they were enjoying whatever conversation was happening between them, with Dean laughing at something he must have found funny. With a deep sigh, you walked over to them, slipping your hands into your pockets.

There was instant silence the moment you got close to them, but you didn’t let the hurt show, “John said I should give you a tour and show you where everything is,” you explained to Dean, not really looking at him.

Dean glanced at the office door then back down at you, “If that’s what my dad said, then lead the way, Sweetheart.”

Why does he have to keep calling me that? It’s not like he knows me. Maybe he calls all girls that, and it’s just his thing or something like that.

“Yeah, not like you been in here a day of your life,” Benny teased him, which made you look up at Benny, confused. “Huh?” was the only word you could manage.

“Oh yeah, Dean’s been working in here since he was knee-high to a grasshopper,” Cas chuckled, teasing Dean.

Your gaze went from each of them and then to Dean, tilting your head in a fair amount of confusion. Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Worried she’ll figure it out?” Benny stated.

“Figure what out?” you asked as Dean glared at Benny.

“Nothing,” Dean snapped, still glaring at Benny.

So, Dean’s got some secret he doesn’t want me to know about.

“Do you still want that tour I’m supposed to give you?” you asked with a sigh, looking more at the floor than anywhere else.

“Dean, you were here less than a month ago. Did you really forget where everything is already?” Cas teasingly asked him.

You’d had enough, so headed out of the garage, tossing your hands up and hollering, “Never mind,” just before making it outside. Once you made it to your car, you texted Bobby and told him you were heading home since there weren’t any more cars to work on at the moment.

The six of them watched as you drove past the garage entrance and then down the driveway. You missed Dean punching Cas in the jaw. You missed John and Bobby going off on Benny and Cas. You also missed Dean going off on Benny. You were too pissed and hurt to even look back.

Bobby didn’t text you back, but you knew if he had an issue or needed you at the garage, he would have said so. The moment you got home, you went straight for the punching bag, needing to get the anger out of your system so you could shower.

How am I gonna get out of tonight? Can I even get out of tonight? Probably not. I’ll have to show up, at least. I can always leave early, though, right?

You groaned at the thought of having to be around people, knowing full well that getting out of it, even early, was going to be difficult. At least you weren’t required to dress up any, so you went for a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt, and your favorite deep green flannel pulled over it. At the garage, you typically had your hair pulled back, but for tonight, you left it down.

Parking near the back of Harvelle’s Bar & Grill, you were just staring at the building, dreading going inside and having to “people,” as you called it. The sun had already set, and the darkness was allowing the glimmer of stars to be seen in the night sky, but you didn’t notice them, just the bar in front of you.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

223 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

taglist: @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pixiepopz, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @nhlfs, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @sunghoonsbakery, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @roosterschanelslut, @impeterporker, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @http-ilysm, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world, @nan-nie, @shakespearseclipse, @iovemoonyy, @notyoursweetheart-honey, @girlalwaysathome, @gingerpixiecosplay, @xyzstar, @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland, @chess1ca, @queenofshinigamis, @elodiebeau, @soulessjourney,

if your user has a strikethrough that means i was unable to tag you! double-check that your user is correct! I also did some googling and it says it's possible you aren't being tagged because you could be a new blog or they've flagged you as a possible bot, so try reblogging something or leaving some comments. you can do that here if you'd like ;)

fill out my form linked here to join my taglist!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg

516 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 18 days ago

Text

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 5✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, FLUFF

Word Count: 8668

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

After taking a steadying breath, you finally emerged from the bathroom, now dressed in a soft, simple dress that hugged you in all the right places, its fabric falling gently around your frame. You grabbed your coat from the nearby chair, slipping your arms into it as you glanced up, only to catch Dean’s gaze fixed on you, an unmistakable look of admiration in his eyes.

His gaze lingered, traveling from the curve of your shoulders down to the hem of your dress, taking in every detail. The intensity in his eyes made your cheeks warm, and you felt that familiar flutter in your stomach as he took a step closer, his gaze softening but never wavering.

“You look… amazing”, he murmured, his voice low, as if he was almost speaking to himself. He reached up, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding.

You offered a shy smile, feeling both flattered and slightly flustered under his attention. “Thanks”, you replied softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Guess I didn’t really want to show up to a milkshake date in sweats, you know?”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Still would’ve looked at you the same”, His tone was sincere, that familiar warmth in his gaze that made it clear he wasn’t just talking about the dress.

You both stood there, the silence stretching between you, filled with an unspoken promise. For a moment, it felt like the years between you had fallen away, and you were back in those high school days, sneaking glances, feeling that exhilarating blend of nervousness and excitement.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his eyes away and gave a little nod toward the door. “Shall we?”.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you grabbed your keys, feeling his hand on the small of your back as he guided you out, his touch both familiar and thrilling.

It didn’t take Dean long at all—maybe half an hour tops, and you were already caught up in his charm, laughing at his stories, blushing every time he shot you that mischievous grin. Sitting across from him, you sipped your milkshake, feeling that undeniable pull all over again, that same thrilling spark you hadn’t felt in years.

As the laughter finally began to fade, you leaned back, settling into a comfortable silence as you watched him, studying the familiar lines of his face, the glint in his eyes that hadn’t dimmed one bit over the years. There was a moment of hesitation, a question that had lingered in the back of your mind for as long as you’d known him. You bit your lip before finally voicing it.

“Will you ever tell me what you really do?”, you asked softly, your eyes searching his face, hoping for an answer that went beyond the surface.

Dean’s smile faltered for a second, and you saw the faintest flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He shifted in his seat, glancing down at his hands, the playful confidence slipping away just a little. He took a deep breath, and when he looked back up at you, his expression was softer, almost vulnerable.

“It’s… complicated”, he said slowly, as if trying to find the right words. “I mean, it’s not exactly a nine-to-five, you know?”. He chuckled softly, though it lacked the usual warmth, a hint of something darker slipping through.

You held his gaze, undeterred, sensing that he was weighing whether or not to finally let you in. “Dean, I know you’re not just some mechanic or… whatever it is you say you are. I don’t need all the details, I just… I just want to understand”.

He looked at you, his jaw tightening slightly as he ran a hand over his face, seeming to wrestle with something inside. Finally, he sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked down for a long moment before speaking.

“Alright”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “What I do… it’s not exactly normal. Not something people just talk about”. He paused, meeting your gaze, his eyes carrying a weight you’d only glimpsed before. “It’s dangerous. Messy. But it’s important. I… help people, in ways most don’t understand. I… keep them safe”.

“Like that guy in "Taken"? Some special agent stuff?”, you asked, half-joking but genuinely curious. A flicker of a smile crossed Dean’s face as he leaned back, clearly amused by your comparison.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. “Yeah, something like that”, he said, though his tone was softer, a little distant. “But trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds in the movies”.

You tilted your head, trying to read the deeper meaning behind his words. “So, you’re… what, traveling around saving people?”.

Dean’s expression grew serious, and he nodded, though his eyes held a heaviness. “Pretty much. It’s, uh… not the kind of job you can just walk away from, you know? Always more people who need help, things that need dealing with”.

You watched him, a mix of admiration and concern welling up inside you. “That’s why you never stayed, isn’t it?”, you asked quietly, the pieces finally clicking into place.

Dean nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the table. “Yeah. This life, it doesn’t leave much room for normal. I never wanted to drag you into that. Didn’t think it was fair”.

There was a vulnerability in his voice that hit you deeply, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Instead, you reached across the table, resting your hand on his. “Dean”, you murmured, waiting for him to look up.

Dean let out a sigh, his gaze still focused on the table as he gathered his thoughts. He knew exactly what you were about to say, the kind of understanding you were offering, but he shook his head slightly. “Believe me”, he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of years he’d spent on the road, “you don’t want to keep up with that kind of life. It… it changes you. Changes how you see the world”.

You rolled your eyes lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “So, what—you’re telling me I should have said "Ghostbusters" instead of "Taken"?”.

Dean’s head shot up, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. The slight smirk that followed couldn’t hide the look of quiet awe at your quick insight, and he studied you for a moment, as if seeing you in a new light.

“Ghostbusters, huh?”, he replied, trying to keep his tone casual but unable to mask the respect that crept into his expression. “Didn’t think you’d get that close to the truth”.

You leaned forward, your eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity. “You know, no one’s ever really asked me if I believe in ghosts, Dean”, you said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. The way you said it, the gentle reminder, tugged at a memory buried deep in his mind.

Dean’s eyes softened, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them as he recalled that night. He’d been hesitant then, not wanting to scare you with the reality of his world, but he’d still let his guard down enough to ask. It had been a moment he hadn’t forgotten, a glimpse into something he’d never felt with anyone else.

“Yeah”, he murmured, his voice low. “I remember”.

A hint of a smile played at the corners of your lips. “I thought you were just messing with me, you know”, you admitted. “Like it was some line to keep me intrigued or something”.

Dean let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe part of me was, but… the other part wanted to know what you’d say. If you’d think I was crazy”.

You shook your head, your gaze warm. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Dean. I never did”.

There was a silence that settled between you both, a space filled with unspoken words and the lingering connection that neither time nor distance had erased. You could feel that this moment was different—that, for the first time, he wasn’t hiding, and you weren’t holding back.

“Maybe”, you continued, voice barely a whisper, “I wouldn’t mind knowing a little more about what you really do. About what’s real”.

Dean looked at you, his face a mix of surprise and admiration, and he realized you might actually mean it. That, after all these years, you might want to understand his world, dark corners and all.

Dean’s gaze softened even more, his surprise giving way to a look of genuine respect and something deeper—an appreciation for the quiet courage he saw in you. “You sure about that?”, he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, like he was almost afraid of your answer.

You nodded, a quiet determination in your eyes. “I don’t think you’ve ever been just some guy passing through, Dean. Not to me. And if you’re carrying around… whatever this is”, you gestured vaguely, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “then maybe it’s time I understand what that means”.

Dean took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Alright”, he said finally, his voice steady, though his eyes held a softness you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll tell you. The real version, not just bits and pieces”.

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table again, and began to talk. He didn’t hold back, explaining what he did, the things he’d seen, the people he and Sam had helped. He talked about the hunts, the dangers, the toll it took on both of them, how it wasn’t just ghosts and legends but real, terrifying things that people didn’t believe in until it was too late. And through it all, you sat there, listening with an unwavering calm, absorbing every word.

After about an hour of Dean sharing everything—his life on the road, the horrors he’d faced, and the sacrifices he’d made—he finally paused, his gaze searching your face for any sign of fear, doubt, or even disbelief. He swallowed, clearly wrestling with his nerves, and mumbled, “Still don’t think I’m crazy?”.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stood up, and for a moment, Dean’s heart sank, thinking you were about to leave. But you only smiled softly and walked over to the far corner of the diner, where a sleek, retro-styled jukebox stood. He watched you, confused, as you fiddled with the buttons for a moment. It took a few seconds, but finally, the familiar beat of a song filled the room—the unmistakable intro to Men in Black.

As Will Smith’s voice came through the speakers—“Here come the Men in Black…”—you turned around, grinning at him with a playful, knowing look. The song felt almost too perfect, a bit on-the-nose, but it brought an instant smile to Dean’s face, easing the tension that had built up between you two.

He let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something softer. “Really?”, he said, chuckling. “Out of all the songs…?”.

You shrugged, grinning wider as you made your way back to the table, letting the music play in the background. “Hey, thought it’d lighten the mood”, you said, sliding back into your seat. “Besides, maybe you’re more like a Men in Black kind of guy than a Taken one”.

Dean laughed again, feeling some of the weight he’d been carrying lift a little. “You’re something else, you know that?”.

You gave him a reassuring smile, your eyes warm. “Maybe. But for what it’s worth, Dean… I think you’re one of the good guys. And no, I don’t think you’re crazy”.

As you slid back into your seat across from Dean, you leaned forward a bit, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “Alright, confession time”, you said, your eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “I actually studied parapsychology in college. Thought I’d dive into all the supernatural stuff for real. But… well, once I finished my degree, I realized just how far down the rabbit hole it could go. So, I decided to cut loose”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. “You’re kidding. Parapsychology?”. He shook his head, a grin breaking through. “And here I thought you were the normal one”.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you gave him a playful nudge. “Hey, you only have yourself to blame, Winchester. You and that stupid ghost question back in high school”. Your tone was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of sincerity in your eyes. “You got me curious, you know? Maybe too curious”.

Dean grinned, looking a bit sheepish. “Didn’t realize I had that kind of influence on you”, he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I owe you an apology for derailing your ‘normal’ life”.

“Oh, please”, you shot back, rolling your eyes with a smile. “It’s not like you twisted my arm. That one question just… got under my skin. I kept wondering, ‘What if he was serious? What if there really was more out there?’. I guess it sent me down a whole path I wasn’t expecting”.

Dean looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, genuinely curious. "So… how come you're not scared?”, he asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Most people would hear half the stuff I told you and be running for the hills. But you’re sitting here… pretty damn calm".

You shrugged, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I guess I just believe in the good”, you said simply, holding his gaze with a quiet confidence. “I mean, yeah, there’s a lot of dark, scary stuff out there. But if all that exists… then maybe there’s something good out there too. And maybe people like you… people who know how to face it? Maybe you’re part of that good”.

Dean paused, absorbing your words. For someone who spent his life battling darkness, hearing you talk about hope, about believing in the good, left him a little speechless. He ran a hand over his face, clearly taken aback by how deeply your words had affected him.

He let out a slow breath, his voice thick with sincerity. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s ever said it like that to me before”. There was a softness in his gaze, something unguarded, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. “Guess I needed to hear it”.

“Well, then… I’m glad I said it”.

Dean and you talked for hours, diving into stories about where life had taken each of you over the past five years. He shared some of his hunts, carefully skirting the darker details, while you told him about your bookstore, the little life you’d built, the friendships you’d formed. There was laughter, quiet moments of shared understanding, and even a few silences that somehow said more than words could.

Eventually, though, the evening crept into night, and the soft hum of conversation began to quiet. Dean walked you out to the Impala, and the drive home was filled with a comfortable silence, both of you seemingly content to just be in each other’s presence.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, you lingered in the car for a moment, not quite ready to say goodbye. You glanced over at him, noticing the slight hesitation in his gaze, the same reluctance you felt bubbling under the surface.

His gaze was fixed on the steering wheel for a moment, like he was searching for the right words, then he glanced up at you with a soft smile, the kind that held more than just friendliness.

“So”, he murmured, his voice a little rough, “guess this is where I say goodnight”.

You felt your heart give a small, reluctant twist. “Yeah… I guess so”, you replied softly, but you didn’t make a move to get out of the car just yet.

Dean’s hand rested on the gearshift, but his thumb tapped absently, as though he, too, was searching for a reason to make the night last just a little longer. He glanced at you again, something unspoken in his eyes. “It’s been good seeing you. Better than I… I mean, I didn’t realize I’d missed this. Missed you”.

The words hung in the air, vulnerable but true, and the look he gave you was full of the same honesty.

Feeling a surge of courage, you reached out, letting your fingers brush his hand. “I missed you, too, Dean. More than I thought I would”.

The silence settled, comfortable yet charged, until finally, Dean took a breath, his fingers closing over yours. “How about one more drink?”, he asked, his voice low, eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. “One for old times?”.

You nodded, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Yeah. One more”.

With that, the two of you headed up to your apartment, the night far from over, both of you ready to savor every moment left in it.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you reached up, beginning to pull off your jacket, but you felt the warmth of Dean’s hands on yours, stilling your movement. “Let me”, he murmured, his voice low and rich with something unspoken. The depth in his tone sent a shiver through you, and you felt your heart beat just a little faster as you let your hands fall, trusting him with this small intimacy.

Dean’s fingers brushed lightly against yours as he slid your jacket off your shoulders, his touch careful and deliberate, as though he was savoring every moment. Standing close behind you, his warmth radiated through the narrow space that separated you, his breath soft against the back of your neck.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders, and he took his time, easing it down your arms, his hands lingering as they moved. The air between you grew thick, charged, and as he hung your coat up, he remained close, almost close enough for you to feel the press of his chest against your back. You could feel his presence enveloping you, his quiet breathing filling the stillness.

Unable to resist, you glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, which was dark and intense, holding a mixture of warmth, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. The silence felt heavy with possibilities, a thousand things unspoken lingering between you.

“Dean…”, you whispered, feeling the need to say something but unsure of what, and his eyes softened in response.

He raised a hand, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his touch featherlight but so full of meaning. “I’m here”, he murmured, his voice quiet, but it held a promise—a silent reassurance that whatever happened next was entirely up to you.

And in that moment, you both knew the night wasn’t quite ready to end.

You felt a shiver run through you as Dean’s hands slid from your own, moving slowly up your arms, his touch light yet deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. His palms lingered on your shoulders for a brief moment, as if grounding himself, before he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

As he dipped his head, you felt his lips press gently onto your bare shoulder blade, soft and lingering. The sensation was electrifying, gentle yet deeply intimate, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into the moment, into the familiar warmth and comfort he brought with him.

You bit your lip, barely containing the rush of emotion and anticipation that his closeness stirred in you. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his hands held you so securely, felt like a reminder of the connection you’d shared years ago—one that had never quite faded, despite everything.

Dean’s lips lingered against your shoulder for a moment longer before he slowly lifted his head, his gaze tracing a line from your shoulder to the side of your neck, where he placed another tender kiss. “I don’t think I ever stopped missing this”, he murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and honesty that made your heart ache.

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, his eyes holding a depth of feeling that left you breathless. Reaching up, you placed a hand on his cheek, drawing him closer, knowing that neither of you was ready to let this moment slip away.

Dean’s hand slowly brushed around your waist, his fingers splaying over your stomach, pulling you closer to him as his lips found the sensitive curve of your neck. His mouth was warm and tender against your skin, each kiss deliberate, tracing a path that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

As his lips found the soft spot beneath your ear, he lingered, pressing gentle kisses before letting his mouth brush more firmly against that delicate skin. He moved with a tenderness that spoke of a careful reverence, an intimacy that felt both comforting and thrillingly new. When he softly sucked at that sensitive spot, a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

The sound seemed to light something in him, his grip tightening slightly, his hand on your stomach pressing you back against him. You could feel the shift in his breathing, the quiet intensity in the way he held you, and you felt his need mirrored in your own. His lips moved up, brushing over your ear as he whispered, “You don’t know what you do to me”.

Your hand stayed on his cheek, anchoring him close, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch as he continued his tender exploration of your neck and shoulders. His closeness felt like something you’d both been reaching for all this time, a quiet connection that was both familiar and new.

You leaned back into him, letting yourself relax into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against yours, feeling completely lost in him and in this long-awaited moment between you.

Dean’s hips pressed more firmly against you, and you felt the unmistakable hardness against your lower back. The intensity of the moment heightened, a deep warmth radiating from where his body met yours, sparking a shiver that traveled down your spine. His hands slid up your torso, grazing your waist, and then returning to hold you close, his fingertips tracing small, gentle patterns on your stomach as he held you.

The weight of his presence, the heat of his skin against yours, made your heart race, and the desire between you both was palpable, filling the room with a quiet intensity. His lips continued their path along your neck.

At the sound of your voice, a soft, breathless “Dean”, his movements stilled, and you felt his attention focus entirely on you. Taking his hand from your stomach, you guided it downward, pressing it gently to where you needed him most, your quiet plea both vulnerable and filled with anticipation. The action made Dean’s breath catch, and for a moment, he was completely still, absorbing the intensity of what you were asking of him.

Dean’s hand moved with a deliberate slowness, sliding up the fabric of your dress, his fingers grazing your thigh before coming to rest gently between your legs. The warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your underwear drew an immediate, quiet moan from you, and you felt his head drop to your shoulder, his forehead pressed against you as he took in a shaky breath.

The intensity of the moment surrounded you both, each touch, each movement building a quiet, simmering tension that felt almost electric. His fingers pressed more firmly, exploring gently, his other hand tightening around your waist as if anchoring both of you in this shared space.

“Tell me if it’s too much”, he murmured against your skin.

Dean's fingers traced along the edge of your underwear, pausing just a moment as if waiting for any last sign of hesitation from you. When you responded with a soft, encouraging nod, he slid his hand beneath the fabric, his touch warm and gentle, sending a shiver through your body. His fingers moved with a careful tenderness, exploring the sensitive skin as he held you close, his breath warm against your neck.

The feeling was electric, each delicate movement drawing quiet sounds of pleasure from you as his hand began to move with a slow, unhurried rhythm, clearly focused on making you feel everything he had to offer. His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you back against him, grounding you in the moment.

Dean’s fingers moved in slow, soft circles over your most sensitive spot, each touch intensifying the heat pooling in your core. He let out a low groan, feeling the response of your body, his own desire flaring at the wetness he found. His breath was ragged against your shoulder, the tension building between you both so thick it felt like it could ignite at any moment.

“Tell me what you need”, he whispered, his voice barely audible as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his desire for you evident in every touch, every movement, his presence both overwhelming and reassuring.

At your quiet, breathless whisper—“I need you”—he stilled once more. Then, with a deep exhale, he lifted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he murmured, “Are you sure?”. The vulnerability and restraint in his voice made it clear he wanted this just as much, but he was still giving you every chance to lead.

When you nodded, his eyes met yours, filled with warmth and intensity. Without another word, he turned you around to face him, his hands holding you close as he kissed you deeply, pouring everything he felt into that kiss, bridging the past and present in one powerful moment.

Slowly, with reverence, he guided you backward into your bedroom.

Slowly, his hands slid up, gathering the hem of your dress, lifting it inch by inch. The material glided over your skin, and he paused, his fingers brushing your shoulders as he eased the dress over them.

With a soft smile and a teasing glint in his eyes, he murmured, “Still no fan of bras, huh?”.

You laughed softly, feeling a slight blush but comforted by his warmth, his presence. “Guess not”, you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

As he slipped the dress over your head, he let it fall to the floor, his gaze dropping to take you in, his eyes lingering with a reverence that made your heart race.

Dean’s eyes darkened with a mixture of awe and desire as he took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering over every curve, every detail. “Fuck”, he murmured, the word slipping out almost involuntarily, heavy with admiration. His hands tightened gently on your waist, and then, as if overwhelmed by the moment, he let his face fall against the crook of your neck, a soft, dramatic sigh escaping him.

You felt his breath against your skin, warm and tinged with a hint of laughter as he nestled into you, and his reaction brought a quiet joy that melted any lingering nerves. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if he needed a moment to compose himself.

“You’re making this hard for me to keep it together”, he murmured against your neck, his voice a blend of humor and genuine emotion. His lips brushed your skin softly, pressing gentle, lingering kisses that trailed up to your jawline, and you felt yourself relax further into his embrace, letting yourself be fully in this moment with him.

You hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of the moment and everything that had brought you both here, but then, gathering your courage, you reached up and slid your hands along his shoulders, pushing his flannel down and off. The fabric slipped away, revealing the warmth of his skin beneath, and he let it fall to the floor without breaking eye contact, his expression soft and intense, filled with both affection and anticipation.

As you let your hands trace down his arms, Dean’s gaze followed every movement, as if he was committing every detail to memory.

Dean stood still, his gaze unwavering and patient, allowing you to set the pace. You took a shaky breath, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt. The anticipation between you was thick, each heartbeat, each unspoken word, echoing in the small space between your bodies. Your hands lingered there for a moment, absorbing the warmth of him through the fabric, before you gathered your courage and slowly began to lift his shirt.

As you drew it up, his chest and shoulders were revealed, each inch of bare skin sparking a quiet thrill within you. His eyes remained on yours, their depth and warmth making it clear he was here, entirely with you, wanting this moment to be as much yours as it was his.

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth spread across your cheeks as your palms traced over his bare chest, the feel of his skin beneath your fingers both thrilling and grounding. His breath hitched slightly as you let your hands explore, tracing the contours of muscle and warmth that felt both familiar and new. You could feel the quiet strength in him, but there was also a softness, a vulnerability he was allowing himself to show, just for you.

Your hands had just begun to trace a path down his stomach toward his belt when he caught your wrists gently, holding your hands in his for a moment. He met your gaze, his expression filled with a mix of mischief and intensity, and before you knew it, his hands had shifted to your hips. In one smooth, powerful motion, he lifted you effortlessly, making your heart skip a beat as he carried you over to the bed.

With a playful grin, he gently laid you down, his strength leaving you breathless and a little awestruck. A soft gasp escaped your lips, the thrill of his effortless movement combined with the warmth of his hands still imprinted on your skin. He leaned over you, bracing himself on his forearms as he looked down, his expression a mix of adoration and pure, unguarded desire.

“Gotcha”, he murmured, his voice low, teasing as his eyes roamed over you with a warmth that made you feel cherished. There was a tenderness in the way he took in the moment, savoring the sight of you beneath him, as if he’d waited as long as you had for this.

You felt yourself smiling up at him. “Guess I’m not going anywhere”, you replied, your voice soft, meeting his gaze.

He chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “Exactly where I want you”.

Dean’s lips moved slowly, reverently, tracing a path down your body, leaving a warm, tingling trail with each kiss. He took his time, savoring every inch, his hands gliding along your sides, fingers pressing gently as he memorized the curves beneath his touch. When he reached the hem of your panties, he paused, glancing up with that familiar, mischievous grin that made your heart race.

“Think I can beat my record?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes sparkling with the challenge. The implication was clear, and a thrill of anticipation ran through you. His fingers hooked into the waistband, and he slowly began to ease the fabric down, his gaze never leaving yours, the connection between you unbroken.

As he slipped the fabric away, he pressed another gentle kiss to your hip, his smirk widening at the sight of your reaction. “Just relax”, he whispered, his voice soft yet brimming with confidence and care. His hands slid up to hold your hips, anchoring you as he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin.

With a soft, lingering kiss to your most sensitive spot, Dean’s eyes stayed on you, watching every detail of your reaction. The warmth of his mouth against you sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, and a breathless moan escaped your lips as you instinctively tensed, your fingers gripping the sheets. His gaze softened at the sight, a look of pure adoration mixed with satisfaction as he took in your response, clearly pleased to see how deeply he was affecting you.

He placed another tender kiss on you, then his tongue slowly traced a line from your entrance up to your clit, drawing a long, deliberate path that made you shiver under his touch.

Your breath hitched, and you found yourself lifting slightly towards him, seeking more of that exquisite sensation.

As he reached your clit, he paused, giving it a gentle flick.

With that gentle flick, a wave of intense pleasure surged through you, taking you completely by surprise. The release hit hard and fast, leaving you breathless as your body tensed and shuddered beneath him. Your hands gripped the sheets, a quiet, involuntary cry escaping your lips. Even Dean looked momentarily stunned, his eyes widening slightly as he felt the response his touch had coaxed out of you.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips, his expression a mixture of pride and tenderness as he watched you ride the wave.

Dean’s touch remained gentle as you came down, his mouth tracing soft, soothing paths that coaxed every last tremor from your body. His lips pressed delicate kisses along your sensitive skin.

You could feel his gentle attentiveness as his tongue continued to move softly, savoring every second, as though he was in no hurry to pull away. His hand slid up to rest on your hip, steadying you as you caught your breath, the warmth of his touch both comforting and electrifying. Every stroke, every kiss, carried an unspoken affection that went deeper than words.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile as he moved up to meet your gaze. "Didn’t realize I’d get that kind of reaction”, he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth, clearly pleased and still just a bit surprised.

You managed a soft laugh, looking up at him with a warm blush, your voice dropping to a shy whisper. “It’s… it’s been a while, you know”.

Dean, now standing at the edge of the bed, casually undid his belt, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Oh yeah? How long?”, he asked, almost teasingly, clearly not expecting any sort of serious answer.

But the way your gaze dropped, a hint of shyness crossing your face as you murmured, “Five years”, stopped him in his tracks. His fingers froze, mid-buckle, his easy smile fading as realization dawned on him. You looked up at him, the sincerity and vulnerability in your eyes quietly revealing the truth he hadn’t expected.

“What?”, he whispered, almost in disbelief, his voice barely audible as he took in your words. “You mean… since… us?”.

You nodded, feeling a bit self-conscious but resolute. “Yeah… I guess… you were my first. And my last”. Your voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable honesty in it, the kind that left no room for misinterpretation.

Dean took a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to process what you’d just admitted. His usual composure was nowhere to be found; instead, he looked genuinely overwhelmed.

“You’re kidding, right?”, he finally breathed out, almost as if he was hoping he’d misheard you. But as you shook your head, your cheeks coloring an even deeper shade of pink, he let out a low, soft whistle. “Damn, sweetheart”.

He paused, running his hand through his hair, clearly at a loss for words. “I thought there was pressure the first time, but now… this is a whole other level”, he joked lightly, though there was a warmth in his tone that softened the words. His gaze stayed on you, the affection in his eyes unmistakable.

You laughed softly, the sound a mix of nervousness and fondness, and he took a step closer, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch gentle. “Guess I better make this worth the wait then, huh?”, he murmured, his voice dropping to that familiar low tone that sent shivers down your spine.

The tension between you shifted, deepening with the weight of the unspoken memories and the quiet understanding that had always existed between you.

Dean moved swiftly, slipping out of his clothes until he stood before you in just his boxers, his gaze intent and focused. As he reached for the waistband to pull them down, you shifted on the bed, kneeling on the mattress, and reached out to stop him, your hands gently brushing over his hips as you bit your lip, your eyes flicking up to meet his in silent question.

You pulled his boxers down slowly, letting the fabric slide away as you looked up at him, taking in every detail. The desire in your gaze was unmistakable, and Dean caught the hint of your intentions immediately. His lips curved into a soft grin, shaking his head in that familiar way that conveyed both affection and amusement.

Without a word, he gently guided you back down onto the bed, his hands warm and steady as they eased you onto your back. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, his voice a soft murmur as he whispered, “Tonight’s about you”.

As he settled above you, his knee nudged your thighs apart, encouraging you to open up to him. His movements were unhurried, as if savoring every second. His hands traced along your sides, grounding you in the present moment, letting you feel his warmth and presence.

Dean’s hand wrapped around the base of his erection, guiding himself. He brushed the tip gently through your folds, moving slowly, deliberately, each stroke sending a wave of warmth radiating through you. The sensation was soft yet electric, his touch careful as he used your own wetness to ease the way, preparing you both for what came next.

He paused, meeting your gaze, a question in his eyes that spoke of both desire and respect. Holding his gaze, you nodded, your breaths coming softly, filled with anticipation. His hand shifted, guiding himself to your entrance, moving just a fraction closer.

As Dean eased gently into you, he let out a deep, heated groan, his voice rough with the intensity of the moment. “Damn, sweetheart”, he murmured, his breath shaky, “you’re still way too tight”. His words sent a thrill through you, heightening the pleasure, and you couldn’t hold back a loud moan as he filled you completely, every inch drawing you closer, the sensation overwhelming.

Your back arched instinctively, pressing you closer against him, your body responding to the closeness, the connection, and the heat of his touch. Dean stilled for a moment, his gaze sweeping over you, his hand coming to rest at your hip, grounding you both in the moment as he took a breath, savoring the depth of it.

Dean looked down at you, his gaze filled with concern and warmth. "You good?", he murmured softly.

Instead of responding with words, you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down toward you. Your lips met his in a deep, lingering kiss, one that conveyed all the feelings you couldn't quite put into words.

As your legs hooked around his hips, drawing him closer, you felt him respond, his body pressed firmly against yours. The rhythm he set was slow and steady, each movement filled with care and intention. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you, every movement bringing you closer together in ways that went far beyond the physical.

With every deliberate thrust, Dean’s rhythm brought his tip to brush against that sensitive spot deep inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each movement seemed to intensify the sensation, and before long, you were trembling beneath him, moans spilling from your lips in response to the overwhelming pleasure.

He leaned down, his forehead once more pressed gently against yours, his breath warm as it mingled with your own. “You feel so good”, he whispered, his voice rough but soft, laced with awe and affection.

Dean’s hand slid down, intertwining with yours, holding you close as if to keep you anchored, each thrust uniting you deeper. The intensity of it all built quickly, your body responding almost instinctively to his movements, your back arching and your grip tightening around him.

With every moan, every shared breath, it was clear that this was more than just a moment of passion; it was a shared connection that neither of you had felt in years, something that held within it a sense of coming home.

Your whispered, "Harder, Dean. Please" ,caught him by surprise, but the request ignited something in him. He looked at you for just a moment, a glint of passion and intensity in his eyes, and then he complied, shifting his pace and angle to fulfill your wish. His thrusts grew deeper, more deliberate.

Every thrust seemed to hit that perfect spot, building the pleasure higher and higher, until your entire world narrowed down to the feeling of him, the weight of his body, the warmth of his skin.

Dean’s lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “Just like that… you feel incredible”, he murmured.

Dean's voice was rough, filled with raw emotion, as he groaned against your neck, "I missed your moans… those sweet little sounds you make".

His lips grazed your skin, his breath hot as he pressed more kisses along your neck, murmuring between each one, "Every little sound you make, sweetheart… drives me insane". His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to meet him with each thrust, creating a rhythm that felt both passionate and deeply connected.

"Dean, I'm so close".

His hands tightened around your hips as he adjusted his angle slightly, determined to bring you right to that edge.

“Come on, sweetheart”, he murmured against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, filled with both encouragement and desire. “Let go for me”. His words were matched by the way his hips moved, unrelenting yet tender.

Your nails dug into his back, grounding yourself as the pleasure built higher. His name slipped from your lips again, a quiet plea.

And then, as his pace intensified, pushing you right to the brink, you felt the tension finally unravel, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your body trembled beneath him, a mix of breathless gasps and soft moans escaping as you clung to him, completely lost in the moment. Dean held you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping.

As he felt you reach your climax, Dean’s control slipped, the sensation and intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge as well. His grip on your hips tightened, and with a few final, deep thrusts, he let out a low, shuddering groan, his breath warm against your skin as he buried himself fully, his body tensing in release.

He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy and ragged as he rode out the last waves of his climax. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, the room filled with the sound of your shared breathing as the intensity slowly ebbed.

Eventually, Dean shifted slightly, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a small, contented smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “Good?”, he murmured softly.

You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath, brushing a hand over your forehead to gather yourself. “Are you kidding?”, you murmured, a playful glint in your eyes as you bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corners.

Dean chuckled, his gaze soft as he traced gentle patterns along your arm, his fingers warm against your skin. “Just making sure”, he replied, his voice low and laced with affection. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he looked down at you with a tenderness that was somehow both comforting and electrifying.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before pulling back, his smile widening as he took in your expression, the quiet satisfaction that mirrored his own. “Guess that was… long overdue”, he added with a playful smirk, though his tone held the same depth of warmth as his gaze.

You let out a breath, nodding. “Yeah, maybe just a little”, you teased.

A few minutes later, you found yourself nestled securely in Dean’s arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand traced gentle circles along your back, his other arm wrapped protectively around you, keeping you close. The quiet felt full—comfortable and serene, as though you both were wrapped in a bubble of warmth and contentment, the world outside fading away.

Dean let out a deep, contented sigh. “Feels like old times”, he murmured, his voice soft, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to have this again… with you”.

You looked up at him, seeing a depth in his expression that made your heart ache in the best way. “I didn’t either”, you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers tracing small, gentle patterns on his chest. “Feels… like it was worth the wait”.

You sighed softly, a hint of worry slipping into the comfort of the moment as you tilted your head to look up at him. “What happens after… after you solve this case?”, you asked, your voice hesitant, as though speaking the question might shatter the fragile peace between you.

Dean’s face softened as he looked at you, thoughtful and a little conflicted. “I… I don’t know”, he admitted, his voice quiet, like he was finally allowing himself to be honest about something he’d been trying not to think about. “Part of me wishes I could just… stay”.

His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a small, comforting gesture. “But you know how my life goes. There’s always something… always another hunt”. He let out a quiet sigh, his thumb brushing gently across the back of your hand.

You felt your heart tighten at his words, understanding the reality of his life but still aching at the thought of him leaving again. “But what if… what if you didn’t have to leave?”, you whispered, almost as if you were speaking a hope you’d kept buried for too long.

Dean’s gaze held yours, a spark of longing flickering in his eyes as he considered your words. “Maybe… maybe one day”, he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of hope you hadn’t seen in him before. “Maybe one day I won’t have to”.

"Damn, that sucks”, you muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh as you lay nestled against him. Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, and he tightened his arm around you.

“What’s going on with that mouth of yours these days?”, he teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he tilted his head to look down at you. “Since when did you start swearing like a sailor?”.

You smirked, rolling your eyes but feeling a smile tug at the corner of your lips. “Guess I picked it up somewhere along the way. Don’t act like you didn’t have anything to do with it”.

“Oh, I know I did”, he shot back, still grinning. “But I’ve gotta admit, hearing you curse about me leaving… that’s kinda flattering”.

You scoffed, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, don’t get too comfortable. Just because you’re flattered doesn’t mean I won’t be mad if you skip out on me again”.

“I won’t just leave without a word again”, he promised, his voice soft but unwavering. “When I’m leaving… you’ll know”.

You searched his face, feeling the sincerity in his words settle deep within you, easing an ache you hadn’t even fully realized you were carrying. “You better”, you murmured, reaching up to trace your fingers along his jaw, grounding yourself in the warmth of his presence. “I’m holding you to that”.

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips before wrapping his fingers around yours. “I mean it”, he said quietly. “No more disappearing acts. You deserve better than that”.

A soft smile spread across your face as you curled into him, feeling the comfort of his arms around you and the warmth of his words filling the quiet space. “Good”, you whispered, your eyes drifting closed as you rested your head against his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

The rest of the night was a blur of warmth, laughter, and moments of tenderness and intensity that neither of you could quite keep track of. Dean stayed close, his touches and kisses as lingering and deliberate as his words had been, each one deepening the connection you felt. Between whispered conversations and soft laughter, you found yourselves drawn to each other over and over, as if making up for all the years apart in a single night.

The hours slipped by unnoticed as the two of you explored the quiet intimacy of just being together again, letting go of the past and reveling in the closeness of the present. Every touch felt like a rediscovery, every shared look carrying a depth that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. There were no walls, no secrets—just you and Dean, wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, as the first light of dawn crept in through the window, you found yourself nestled against his chest once more, a comfortable silence settling over you both. Dean brushed his fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Think we’ll catch any actual sleep?”, he murmured, his voice filled with a playful exhaustion but laced with something deeper.

You smiled, tracing a finger along his arm. “Maybe. But I don’t think I’d change a thing about tonight”.

He smiled, pulling you even closer, his hand gently caressing your back as the two of you drifted into a peaceful silence, content and fulfilled in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 6

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn cast #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

83 notes · View notes