#if he had to lash out. even if he didn't want to. is dean gonna stand by him then?

[quietwingsinthesky]

Benny: Thanks for not giving up on me, brother.

Dean: Don't give me a reason to.

(im going to throw up)

[dubina-dawkins]

WINCHESTER'S PICKUP, INJURIES AND CLUMSY KISSES

~1k words

>you get hurt while hunting with your uncle, John Winchester and his son. Dean can't help but help.

pairing:teen! dean winchester x teen! reader

warnings/notes: basically a really tooth rotting fluff, first love and first kiss trope, vague descriptions of reader's past (like death of their family), few but subtle descriptions of injuries, john winchester mentioned (and i mean he's a real trigger so that's important), gn reader, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

Minnesota. A werewolf hunt. Ordinary case-- boring, in a way. Just had to catch the bastard and shoot it through the heart with silver.

It seemed normal even to you, even though you weren't even an adult yet. Had to grow up early, huh? God, you hated that phrase. It sounded like you were feeling sorry for yourself. And self-pity is weak, very weak! At least that's what your uncle, the hunter who raised you since your family died in a vampire attack taught you.

And besides, you and your uncle weren't alone on this case, but with "family friends" - the Winchesters. Were they considered family friends if every time John needed help hunting and Dean was busy, your youngest son, Sam, was left at your and your uncle's house? Hell if I know! But at least you got a good memory of that family. And the older son's face, his cocky grin, his brilliant green eyes, his perfect nose and distinct freckles...it was all getting to your throat.

But damn it, it had to be some old, abandoned house. Protruding nails, scattered things, wood that left splinters in fingers - it would be dangerous here, even in daylight, without the risk of having your heart eaten...and when there was that risk, every step was tense.

Especially when the "hunted object" - you tried not to think of them as people, or else it became too hard to hunt - had run right into your path. The rumble of falling things, the pop of missed shots. This werewolf was physically strong and dexterous, so it was hard.

Like when he threw you into the wall and some protruding, crooked, rusty nail pierced your shoulder. It's okay, we've been through worse injuries, you'd think. Until Dean ran up to you, completely ignoring his father's scolding.

"Hey, are you okay? Ooh..." He seemed to swear, but it was quiet, a whisper he didn't want his father to hear. Dean sharply threw your arm, whose shoulder wasn't injured, over his neck and lifted you up, not listening to any of your complaints about not needing help.

"Dad's gonna kill you- sshhiit..." You hissed as he pressed his shirt, previously hanging over his black T-shirt, against your shoulder, treating the wound. The fabric was soaked with whiskey.

Hearing your sounds of pain, Dean lifts his emerald eyes from your wound to your face. His gaze is piteous, concerned, and his thick lashes glisten in the moonlight.

He was too handsome. Objectively, of course.

"Like the first time I'm going to get a punch from him... All right?" He squeezes your healthy shoulder in the palm of his hand, then puts his hand on the collar of your t-shirt, and...stops. "I... Can you slip your arm out of your sleeve?"

All his arrogance evaporated, there wasn't a particle of it in the air. And it was cute.

"You want me to take my clothes off? Pervert," you laugh, but your face immediately frowns as you raise your arm. Dean doesn't waste a second and starts helping you.

And God, the touch of his somehow warm fingers - there was a cool breeze outside, by the way - send shivers down your spine, making you dizzy. But you don't think about it. At least you're trying.

A low whimper escaped your lips as he tightened a piece of cloth, torn from your shirt and soaked in alcohol, on your wound. Maybe it wasn't unusual, but it still hurt.

"You're gonna stay here, you hear me? There's no way in hell you're going to go fight that big guy again right now. I won't let you," Dean said, glancing outside his dad's pickup window. His dad and your uncle were still in the house with a werewolf, apparently. You two could have been alone...for a little while. But of course that didn't excite you at all. You and Dean were just friends, right? Hunting bros. Nothing more.

And the fact that your gaze fell to his lips, then to his cheeks, covered with freckles, sharp cheekbones, ash-black long lashes, brilliant green eyes.... It meant nothing. At all.

"Whatever you say, sir," you quipped, rubbing the wound under the piece of cloth with your hand. Dean just gently pulled your hand away, "Don't make it worse for yourself, buddy." And oh, his tone is so gravelly. You're absolutely done.

But he won't let go of your hand. And you don't want to pull away.

His green eyes came up to your face, and he suddenly just froze, as if he couldn't look away. Dean stared at you as if you were the most brilliant and expensive gem, as if you were a living angel he hadn't believed in for a long time.... Like something unearthly. It would be foolish not to admit that you looked at him the same way.

Dean squeezed your hand lightly, and slowly - yes, very unusual for Dean Winchester to do something slowly - moved closer, but in a friendly way for now. In the same second, however, he remembered who he was, and his hand went up to your neck - still tentatively, of course... "Listen, buddy-..."

"Dean, please..."

And that did it. Dean's one word was enough for him to press his lips lightly against yours. He wasn't pushy, he wasn't rough, he didn't even let himself try to deepen the kiss. His lips only phantomly touched yours, guiding you, somehow even mentoring you, gently (still unusual for Dean Winchester himself!). His lips were matte, a little dry, but damn it, you liked it better than the sweetest meals of your life.

He pulls back, takes a deep breath and leans into you again. You're so cooked.

Dean can't help but marvel at your ineptitude at kissing- God, he could have sworn it made it the best kiss of his life. His lips move hotter, feistier, more needy, but still tentative, dipping down a little to leave a few quick nibbles on your chin and on your jaw--

Until you start hearing John and your uncle's voices outside. Oh, God, not now!

"Sorry, baby, sorry-" the nickname slides off his tongue so tenderly, lovingly, as he quickly pulls moves away from you.

Because after today, the chance of Winchester allowing you to see Dean earlier than after few months was close to zero.

a/n: i needed to think about little dean that haven't experienced hell already (on s4 currently yaaay). young jensen on header only because i can't think of teen dean looking as original cast actor for this role. and because i love young jensen. like really much. think im starting to get a lil' bit too much obsessed with dean

[fatecantstopme]

Changed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Enemies to lovers…the three times you and Dean/Sam work together and the final time when everything changes

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names, body shaming, mentions of injuries and wound care. SMUT, face sitting, oral (F receiving) unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: y'all I'm sorry, but I made Dean a total asshole for the beginning part of this. I had to for the storyline...don't hate me, it's got a GREAT ending.

You'd been hunting for close to five years when you first met Sam and Dean Winchester. The three of you happened to be working the same case in a small town in Ohio.

You and Sam hit it off instantly, but Dean was much more closed off and stand-offish. In fact, he was down-right rude most of the time. He made it very clear he didn't like you, nor did he want your help with the case.

Sam tried to get Dean to be a little more friendly, but it didn't matter what he did, Dean was not a fan of you and he showed it.

"If this wasn't an entire nest of vampires, I would be absolutely fine walking away from this," you said to Dean. "But I'm not about to let the two of you go in there alone."

"We don't need your help," Dean snapped.

"Well you've got it, so suck it up."

Sam stepped in. "Why don't we all just calm down."

"Shut up, Sam!" you and Dean yelled at the same time.

Sam threw up his hands and stepped back. He didn't wanna argue with either of you.

"I don't need help from some geek who probably can't even fight," Dean hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm a damn good fighter, Winchester," you growled.

Dean looked you up and down with disdain. It was very clear where his brain went and you did not appreciate his assumptions. Maybe you didn't really look like a traditional hunter, but you were good at it.

"No offense, (Y/N), but you don't exactly inspire confidence in your fighting abilities."

You took a deep breath and tried not to lash out. "You're an asshole, Dean Winchester, and honestly I don't care what happens to you, but your brother is a good person. You might both be amazing hunters, but I'm not letting Sam go in there without more than just you for backup."

Sam cut in before Dean could respond. "I agree with (Y/N), Dean. She's coming with us."

Dean shot his brother a dark glare, but Sam didn't back down. "You know what? Fine. If she dies, it's her fault."

"Fine with me," you snapped back at him.

Dean stomped out of the motel room, leaving you and Sam alone.

"I'm sorry about him," Sam said softly. "He's been different since Dad died."

You shook your head. "Don't apologize for him, Sam. I'm just worried his head isn't in the game and it's gonna get you killed."

Sam sighed. "I know. I'm worried about him too."

You let out a long sigh. "The only thing we can do is hope we all make it out of this alive."

Sam nodded his agreement. "Let's go before he gets even more annoyed."

You grabbed your gear and headed out the door after Sam.

As you'd predicted, clearing out the vampire nest required all three of you. By the time the last vamp fell to the ground--headless--you had more than proven yourself. Or at least, that's what you thought.

Sam, ever the gentleman, was extremely grateful for your help. "We couldn't have done it without you," he commented.

You were about to reply when Dean let out a rude scoff. You turned your attention to him with narrowed eyes. "Got something you wanna say, Winchester?"

He glared at you. "We would have been just fine without you."

"You know what? Screw you. If you wanna make terrible decisions that might get you killed, go for it, but don't drag your brother down with you."

Dean looked like he wanted to say more, but you'd stormed off in the direction of your car. You wanted to get back to the motel, shower, and go to bed. You needed to be on the road in the morning--on your way to another case.

Once you were out of earshot, Sam snapped at his brother. "Dude, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"What? You got the hots for the fat chick?"

"Don't talk about her like that, it's incredibly demeaning. Besides, she more than proved herself tonight."

"Whatever. Let's just get the hell out of here."

The next morning, you said your goodbyes to Sam, offering him your assistance in the future should he ever need it. You didn't bother to address Dean, knowing it was unlikely he would even respond.

Once you hit the highway, your mind began to focus on your next case--leaving the Winchester boys far behind.

**********

It had been close to 6 months since the hunt with Sam and Dean, and you were surprised to get a call from Sam requesting your assistance on another case.

"We think it's demonic omens," Sam explained.

You sighed. "How bad we talking?"

"We're not sure, but we could really use your help."

"Did you clear it with your brother?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line that told you everything you needed to know.

"Sam..."

"Look, I didn't say anything to him, but even he admitted we needed to call for help."

You sighed again, running your fingers through your hair. "Fine, but only because you asked."

"Thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate it."

You hung up the phone and packed your bag to head to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma.

You didn't often meet people you didn't get along with, but Dean Winchester was certainly one of those people. You hated him and he quite obviously hated you. You weren't sure what it was about you he disliked so much, but you didn't appreciate the way he treated you.

There was something in the way he looked at you--disdain or disgust, you weren't sure, but you'd seen it in other men's eyes. You knew what it was...it was a judgment you'd seen a thousand times before. You'd struggled with your weight your whole life and some men (and women too) had the tendency to judge you based on your physical appearance.

It didn't help that you were a woman in a very male-dominated job. Male hunters had the tendency to judge you with a single look. It didn't matter that you were smart and capable--that you were a great hunter in your own right. All they saw was the outside and that was all they needed to decide what you could do--what you were capable of.

Unfortunately, Dean Winchester was apparently one of those hunters. Sam clearly saw there was more to you than appearances and you appreciated being given the benefit of the doubt. Sam had given you the chance to prove yourself and you'd done so, but that didn't seem to change Dean's perception of you.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt more because of who he was. Dean Winchester was a well-known figure in the hunting community, as were his father and brother. You knew he was a truly amazing hunter and part of you craved his approval. There was also something to be said about the way he looked...the man was gorgeous in an almost offensive way. You couldn't stop yourself from noticing, but you were painfully aware he did not find you attractive. As stupid as it might sound, his disdain hurt you deeply.

You sighed as you stared out the windshield at the road ahead of you. You didn't want to focus on the negative, especially when you were on your way to face what appeared to be several demons. You needed to be on your A-game...you'd be damned if you let yourself get distracted by a mere man.

Several hours later, you pulled into the parking lot of the motel the Winchesters were staying at. You went up to the motel room door and knocked, sending up a silent prayer that Sam would be the one to answer the door.

Someone must have been looking down on you favorably, because moments later, the door swung open to reveal Sam Winchester. "Thanks for coming, (Y/N)."

You smiled at him. "Of course. You call, I come."

Sam gestured for you to come in. "Dean's out getting food."

"Oh." You didn't know what else to say--part of you wished he was here so you could just get it over with, but another part of you was glad to prolong the inevitable for a little while.

"He'll be back soon," Sam said lamely.

"Okay. Should I get a room then?"

Sam shook his head. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's absurd, you're significantly taller than me. I'll take the couch or get my own room."

"There are no more rooms," Sam said with a shrug. "So take the bed, please. I'll feel like an asshole if you sleep on the couch."

You chuckled lightly and tossed your bag onto the bed nearest the door. "Alright, fine. I wouldn't want to offend your gentlemanly sensibilities," you teased.

He smiled, but before he could respond, the door swung open and the elder Winchester walked through carrying a bag of diner food.

You swallowed thickly, hoping he wouldn't have anything nasty to say right away.

Unfortunately, it seemed your luck had run out. "What's she doing here?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"She's here to help," Sam answered.

Dean threw the bag of food on the table. "I'm sorry--when I told you to call for backup, this is who you called?"

"She was available and she's more than capable," Sam argued.

"I don't give a damn. You should have called someone else. She'll get herself killed--or one of us."

"She has a name," you snapped. "And she's right here."

Dean turned his attention to you and you could see the fiery anger in his gaze. You didn't understand what about you made him so angry, but he certainly didn't give you a chance to ask.

"Have you ever even faced a demon, (Y/N)?" The way he emphasized your name was dripping with condescension.

"Actually, I have. More than once."

A flash of surprise crossed his face, but was gone quickly. "How many people died when you did?"

"One," you answered, trying to keep your voice level. "The innocent woman some demon scum was wearing."

"Were you alone?"

"Every time."

If you'd expected Dean to be impressed, you'd have been sorely mistaken. "This will be a hundred times worse. Half this town is demon-infested and countless people will die. Can you handle that?"

"It's the job," you answered as calmly as you could.

Dean regarded you quietly for a moment, before seeming to accept your answer. "Don't get us killed." He turned away from you and sat down at the table to eat his dinner, ignoring you once more.

You glanced over at Sam who looked extremely uncomfortable, but he didn't comment on anything that had been said. Instead he asked his brother if he'd gotten enough food to share with you too.

Before you were able to say you'd already eaten dinner, Dean made an offhand comment that struck a nerve.

"I don't think we have enough food for her even if you and I don't eat."

Sam gasped. "Dean!"

You froze for a moment, tears pressing against your eyes, but you didn't dare shed them. You pushed your emotions down and took a deep breath. "I actually already ate."

"Thank god," Dean mumbled.

"That's it!" you snapped. "What the hell is your problem with me, Winchester?"

He looked up at you with an annoyed glare. "I don't like you and I don't trust you."

"I don't care for you either, but that doesn't mean you have to treat me like shit. I haven't insulted you a single time, but you've managed to insult me several times from the moment we met. Either shut the hell up or I'll be forced to fight fire with fire."

He raised a single eyebrow at you, but he didn't say a single word. You were surprised at his silence, but you were done with the conversation. "I'm going to shower."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Sam threw a wrapper at Dean. "What the hell, man?"

Dean shrugged. "What? I don't like her."

"What the hell did she ever do to you?"

"She didn't have to do anything. I just don't like her."

"Fine, but don't treat her like that," Sam requested. "She doesn't deserve your animosity...and you're better than this."

Dean didn't comment one way or the other, his silence signaling the end of the conversation.

"That was incredibly stupid of you!" Dean yelled.

"Oh fuck off, Winchester!" you yelled back. "You'd be dead if I hadn't!"

"I didn't ask you to save me!"

The argument was a waste of breath, but Dean didn't want to let it go and neither did you. You'd saved Dean's life during a fight with a demon and it put your own life at great risk.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," you growled.

"You could have gotten Sammy killed, you idiot! He had to save your stupid ass because you wanted to play the hero!"

"Dean, that's not--" Sam began.

"Why can't you just be thankful you're not dead?!" you snapped. "And neither is your brother, for that matter!"

Dean's eyes were filled with a rage so dark it frightened you. "I don't understand how you've managed to survive this long on your own, but I doubt it'll last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that."

You'd managed to regain control of your temper, so you bit your lip to keep from yelling at him again. "You know what? I'm done. Don't ask for my help again."

"(Y/N) wait--" Sam called.

"No, Sam. I'm done. I can't put up with his attitude and you know what? I don't have to. Please don't call me again unless you're hunting alone."

You walked away from both men, fully expecting to never see either one of them again.

**********

Fate, of course, had other plans. One year later, almost to the day, you saved Sam Winchester's life...

You'd been working a case in a small town in Texas and you'd heard rumblings of a missing FBI agent who had been doing research in the town a couple days before you'd arrived.

You knew it was unlikely a real FBI agent had been conducting an investigation here...the events that had led you here clearly indicated the presence of a witch--a damn powerful one at that. As such, it was clear to you a hunter pretending to be FBI had been on the case before you.

You quickly put the pieces together and realized the witch you were hunting had likely kidnapped the other hunter and was doing god only knows what to him.

The more people you talked to, the more certain you were that the missing hunter/FBI agent was none other than Sam Winchester. All of the descriptions people gave you sounded exactly like him.

You tried calling his cell phone several times, but he didn't answer. You didn't want to place the next call, but you didn't see another option. You pressed his name in the phone and put it to your ear.

"Why are you calling me?" Dean's voice asked from the other end of the line.

"Do you know where your brother is?"

"I haven't spoken to him in a while."

"So that's a no?"

You heard him swear under his breath. "Why does it matter, (Y/N)?" he snapped.

"I'm hunting a witch that I think your brother was also hunting. He's missing."

"What do you mean, missing?"

"I mean no one in town has seen him in two days."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Where are you?"

"Lockhart, Texas."

"I'll be there by tomorrow morning."

He hung up without saying anything else, leaving you alone with your worry.

You knew you didn't have time to wait for Dean's arrival. You needed to find Sam...witches were no joke. You'd never forgive yourself if he died because you waited.

You started diving into your research, trying to identify the witch. This is what you were good at, but the added pressure of finding Sam clouded your brain.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear your head. You needed to focus--Sam needed you.

You turned your attention back to your work and noticed you had more clarity. Before you knew it, four hours had passed. You felt like you were no closer to finding this witch than you had been that morning.

You were about ready to give up for a while when you noticed something you'd missed before. You started flipping through the pages you had on the table in front of you and gasped softly. "Her," you mumbled, underlining the name on the page.

You quickly looked up the woman's address and within minutes, you were rushing out the door, on your way to--hopefully--save your friend.

When you pulled up in front of the house, every instinct you had told you you were in the right place. You couldn't explain why, but you just knew this was it.

You double checked your weapons before getting out of the car and making your way around the back of the house as quickly and quietly as possible.

You manage to get into the house without notifying the occupant and began creeping your way through the house, checking each room for signs of Sam or the witch.

You knew there was no basement in the house--Texas homes don't have basements--so there were a limited number of places Sam could be.

You'd cleared the first floor and slowly made your way up to the second floor. As you neared the first room, you heard two voices talking from farther down the hallway.

You immediately made your way towards the voices, moving slowly so as to not make any sound. As you got closer, you heard a female voice followed by a male voice you instantly recognized--Sam.

You continued on quietly until you reached the door. You listened closely, trying to make out what was being said.

"All you have to do," the female voice said, "is tell me who else you're working with."

"I told you," Sam's voice said angrily, "I'm working alone."

"Then why is there a woman looking for you?"

"A woman?" Sam's voice was laced with confusion.

"She's been asking around town about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam cried out in pain and you nearly barged through the door on instinct. You controlled yourself, continuing to remain motionless while listening.

"Samuel...stop lying to me. Who is the woman?"

"I don't know," he insisted before crying out in pain again.

After a few moments, Sam spoke again, slightly breathless. "Look, if you're gonna kill me, just do it. I have nothing more to say to you."

The witch laughed darkly. "Perhaps you're right. You're of no use to me anymore."

Sam yelled in pain and you knew it was time to act. You swung the door open and entered the room with your gun pointed ahead of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on Sam, who was sitting in the center of the room, arms tied to a chair. Your gaze next landed on the witch who was in the middle of chanting some sort of spell.

It took you less than a second to decide what to do, and that second was all you needed. You pulled the trigger and watched the bullet strike the witch's chest. She looked shocked, eyes locked on your face as she fell to her knees. Her gaze never left you as she took her final breath, now nothing but an empty vessel on the floor.

You ran over to Sam, taking in his injuries quickly. Seeing nothing of immediate concern you started to cut his bindings.

"(Y/N)?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Hunting a witch, obviously."

He chuckled lightly. "But how did you find me?"

"A little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said softly.

Your eyes met his as you cut the final rope. You offered him a small smile, but remained silent.

"Seriously, (Y/N). Thank you."

You shrugged. "You would have done the same for me."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again after last time," he admitted.

"Honestly, I didn't either," you whispered. "But when I realized you were here, I knew I couldn't leave you. I, uh--I called Dean."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "You did what?!"

"I was worried about you and you weren't answering your phone, so I called him. I hoped he'd know where you were."

Sam sighed. "We actually haven't been hunting together for a while."

You nodded. "He mentioned that...but he's--um, well he's on his way."

"Great," he mumbled. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "I didn't know."

"It's fine, (Y/N). You didn't know."

Unsurprisingly, Sam was staying at the same motel as you, so you drove him back. Once you arrived, you helped him out of his shirt and began to clean his wounds. Several of them were deep enough to require stitches, but there didn't appear to be anything life threatening.

"You're very lucky," you muttered.

Sam grabbed your hand, stopping you in the middle of a stitch. "It wasn't luck, (Y/N/N). You saved my life."

You sighed quietly and continued sewing his skin back together.

"I'm serious. I owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I do. I guess both of us do now."

"What?"

"You saved Dean's life last year. He might have behaved like an ass, but he owes you his life as much as I owe you mine."

You finished the stitch and moved on to the next cut. "We're hunters, Sam. It's what we do."

"Doesn't mean I'm not grateful."

You offered him a soft smile. "Well then, you're welcome."

After about 30 minutes of constant wound care, you'd managed to clean and stitch up all his cuts. He'd been awake for almost 2 days at this point and just wanted a shower and some sleep.

He agreed to take a shower while you ran out and got some food that you practically forced him to eat before he collapsed on the bed, sound asleep within seconds.

You ate your dinner quietly, watching the large man sleep. You were incredibly glad you'd managed to save him--it would have haunted you forever if you'd been too late.

Eventually, you crawled into the other bed and passed out, forgetting for a moment that Dean Winchester was still on his way to Lockhart in search of his brother.

Early the next morning, you were awoken by loud, insistent knocking on the motel door. You dragged yourself out of bed, muttering under your breath as you made your way over to the door.

"Calm down, I'm coming," you hissed quietly. You looked through the peep hole and saw a slightly disheveled Dean Winchester standing on the other side.

You opened the door and he practically ran into the room, eyes searching the space for his brother. His gaze finally landed on Sam's sleeping form and his whole body instantly relaxed. Sam was peacefully still--exhaustion keeping him asleep.

You walked over to Dean and tentatively touched his arm to jostle him out of his trance. "He's alright," you murmured.

Dean shook his head to clear it and turned to you. "What?"

"Sam's okay," you repeated. "Just some cuts and bruises, but he'll live."

"What happened?"

You explained what had happened and how you'd identified the witch and found Sam.

"You saved his life," Dean whispered.

"He would have done the same for me."

"Still...you didn't have to, but you did it anyway. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "I do."

You were both silent for a moment before Dean continued talking.

"Sam and I--well, we haven't been talking lately. I--I would have been devastated if something happened to him before I could apologize. I was mad and stupid and I said things I didn't mean...but he's still my brother. I can't lose him."

For the first time since you met him, you saw something more to Dean Winchester--something beneath the facade. It was obvious he truly loved his brother and in this moment he was showing a rare piece of humanity that shocked you. Maybe beneath the gruff, rude exterior, there was something genuinely good.

"Why don't you get some sleep," you said softly. "I'm sure you're tired from your drive and Sam will want to see you in the morning."

Dean turned his gaze back to you. "Thanks...I--uh, I am kinda tired." His face told you he wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words.

Your expression softened. "I'll take the couch. Don't worry about it."

He shook his head immediately. "No, go back to sleep. I'll take the couch."

You decided not to argue, instead crawling into bed and falling asleep quickly. Something about Dean's presence made you feel safe.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of voices in the room. As you oriented yourself, you realized it was Sam and Dean talking quietly across the room. You remained quiet and still, ears listening to the discussion.

It was clear they'd been talking for a while and the conversation had turned to the current situation.

"I can't believe she saved you," Dean whispered.

"Neither can I, to be honest. I don't even know how she found me. She said it was mostly luck."

"A year ago, I would have agreed with that," Dean stated. "But now? She's saved both of our lives--I have to admit she's a damn good hunter."

A small smile played on your lips and you were glad they couldn't see your face from their angle.

"That's a lot coming from you," Sam said in surprise. "What changed?"

"Honestly? Me," Dean answered. "A lot has happened in the last 6 months Sammy. I've taken the time away to really get my shit together. I was just so damn empty and I was taking it out on everyone, including you. But I've said some terrible things to (Y/N) and I don't know how to apologize. Hell, I don't even know if she'd want me to apologize. I treated her terribly and I wouldn't be surprised if she hated me."

"I'm pretty sure she does," Sam said softly. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't apologize or you can't fix it. You owe her your life as much as I do...that should mean something."

"I know," Dean admitted. "I've been such an asshole to her. I don't even think I deserve her forgiveness."

"It's worth a shot, Dean."

You couldn't see Dean's face, but you could hear the emotion in his voice. It made you think he truly meant what he was saying. Before this moment, you wouldn't have even considered listening to a word this man had to say to you...but now you felt like you owed it to him--or maybe yourself--to hear him out, should he choose to apologize.

You'd gotten out of bed not long after overhearing Sam and Dean's conversation. After a nice shower, you were getting your things together to head back out onto the road--onto your next hunt.

"I'm gonna grab some breakfast," Sam called out. "You guys want me to bring you something?"

"Coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please," you said in response.

"Coffee and an absurd amount of bacon," Dean added.

Sam groaned. "You are so gonna have a heart attack."

"I'm not gonna live long enough for that, Sammy, so don't worry about me. Bacon is worth it."

You chuckled softly and Dean shot you a look. When he noticed the soft smirk on your face, he smiled in return. "I think (Y/N) agrees."

Sam sighed. "Whatever--I'll be back in a while."

You waved at Sam's back before returning your attention to your duffle. You threw your last couple items into it before zipping it up.

"So..." Dean said awkwardly from behind you.

You sighed heavily before turning to face him. "Yes?"

"I...I, um--fuck," he muttered. "I owe you an apology."

You folded your arms across your chest. "Go on."

You'd never seen him look so uncomfortable and a part of you was happy about it. You felt bad for feeling that way, but after everything Dean had said and done to you since you'd met, he more than deserved it.

"I've been a major asshole."

You nodded your agreement.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I've said some truly horrible things to you and uh--about you. Things I never should have thought, let alone said aloud."

He fell silent and waited for a moment as if he was hoping you would disagree.

"Is that all?"

He exhaled slowly. "Look, you saved my life and I treated you like shit--then you go and save my brother's life even after everything I've done."

"I didn't do it for you."

"No--no, I know. I just...I suck at apologies."

You chuckled lightly. "A bit, yeah."

"What I'm trying to say is--I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I was wrong to treat you the way I did and I'm so fucking sorry, (Y/N). I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I don't have a good excuse--I was broken and hurting and I chose to take it out on everyone around me. I'm not trying to excuse what I did--I just want you to know that I'm not usually like that. I've spent the last year trying to find myself again and I'm closer than I've ever been. But, umm that's not the point--it's not about me. I--fuck--I'm just so goddamn sorry, (Y/N)."

You offered him a small smile. "I genuinely appreciate your apology, Winchester. Especially because I can see how difficult it was for you to do it."

He looked relieved. "I'm not good at this sort of thing."

"It's okay. You got your point across."

"Oh, one more thing."

"Hmm?"

"You're a damn good hunter."

You smiled genuinely for the first time and Dean couldn't help but notice how it lit up your whole face. Your smile was contagious--and he found himself returning the expression.

Before you could thank him, Sam came back with breakfast.

"Am I interrupting?" Sam asked.

"No, we're good," Dean answered.

Sam looked at you and you nodded. He looked relieved, but he didn't comment on the situation.

Dean's stomach grumbled and he reached for the bag of takeout. "Let's eat."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Sam asked.

You shook your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I think you guys need some time alone. Rekindle your relationship, mend fences, etc."

Sam nodded. "Alright, but please call us if you need anything--and I mean anything."

He wrapped you in a hug, which you happily returned. "You know I will."

He stepped back and headed out to the car, leaving you and Dean alone.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," Dean said.

You turned to him with a smile. "I guess it is."

You stuck your hand out and Dean shook it tentatively.

"We're not at the hugging stage yet, Winchester," you said lightly.

He chuckled softly. "I've gotta earn that?"

"Oh yeah," you teased.

Dean grinned, liking the teasing tone in your voice. "I'll work on it. Stay safe, (Y/N)...call us if you need anything."

You nodded. "Same to you. Keep Sammy safe, okay?"

"I always will."

**********

You dragged yourself across the floor of the old, dirty warehouse, pain radiating through most of your body. You heard the footsteps of the creature you'd been hunting as it crossed the room towards you. You could see your cellphone lying several yards away, your gun not far from it. You knew this was it--you were gonna die.

You were breathing heavily, the pain almost unbearable. You didn't want to die, but you knew you wouldn't be able to reach your gun in time.

The creature took another step towards you and growled lowly. You looked up at it and resigned yourself to death.

"Hey, ugly!" a man's voice yelled from behind the creature.

The creature turned in the direction of the voice and a gunshot rang out. The creature cried out in pain and dropped to the ground dead about a foot from you.

You released the breath you'd been holding, the sharp exhale making your ribs ache. You heard footsteps rushing towards you and what you saw made you smile a little.

"(Y/N)!" Sam yelled as he dropped to the ground beside you. "You okay?"

Dean was right behind him, coming to a stop on the other side of your body. You could see the concern in both of their faces as their eyes scanned your body, looking for serious injuries.

"Hey guys," you said softly. "I'm alright."

"Can you stand?" Sam asked.

You nodded and the boys started to help you up. You groaned in pain, exhaling slowly to try and ease it.

"Easy," Dean said softly. "I've got you."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment. He just continued to help you until you were standing up fully. Dean's arm slipped around your waist and pulled you against his side, holding you upright.

"Lean on me, okay? I've got you." He turned to his brother. "You handle the monster, I'll get (Y/N) to the car."

Dean moved slowly, allowing you to lean into him as you limped beside him. "You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked softly.

"That damn thing beat the hell outta me...definitely some bruised ribs, pretty sure I sprained my ankle, and I've got some pretty deep gashes on my back and hip. Otherwise though, I'm peachy."

Dean chuckled softly. "Tough as nails, this one."

"Minus the whole 'almost died' thing."

"Hey, don't worry about that. Happens to the best of us."

"I've noticed," you said lightly.

He laughed. "Rude."

"Seriously, though, thanks for saving my ass."

"My pleasure, (Y/N). Besides, I owed you."

You whimpered slightly when Dean shifted to help you as you approached the stairway.

"Shit, (Y/N), sorry. You okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied through gritted teeth.

"Liar," he mumbled. "Hold still."

You did as he asked, watching in confusion as he took a step away from you, sliding his left arm under your legs and scooping you up into his arms.

You gasped in pain and surprise. "What are you doing?!"

"Sorry if that hurt you, but this will be a hell of a lot easier--and less painful for you."

"You are not carrying me down the stairs, Winchester," you hissed.

"You gonna stop me?" he asked harshly. When you were silent, he smirked smugly. "Didn't think so."

You held on tightly as Dean carried you down the stairs with shocking ease. You knew you weren't light and it surprised you he was able to carry you without issue.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, you stirred against him. "You can put me down now."

"Not happening. I'll put you down when we get to the car."

You stared at him in shock. The man in front of you was so different from the man you'd met almost three years prior. Hell, he was even different from the man who'd apologized to you 8 months ago.

"You've changed," you whispered.

He glanced at your face, cheeks tinged pink. "For the better, I hope."

You smiled warmly. "Definitely."

Dean had driven you back to the motel, leaving Sam to bring your car back. Instead of taking you to your room, Dean brought you to his and Sam's to get you cleaned up and to check your wounds.

"Alright let me see your back," Dean said gently.

You shifted to lift the back of your shirt up, allowing Dean to see the claw marks on your lower back.

"Shit, those are deep," he muttered. "You're gonna need stitches."

"Great."

"I've got everything we need." He got up and grabbed his kit, pulling out the supplies he needed to stitch you up. "So I need unhindered access to your back."

You looked up at him, unsure of what he was saying.

He bit his lip and shifted his weight. "I, uh...I need you to take your shirt off."

Your eyes widened. "Absolutely not."

"I'm not trying to make it weird, but I need both hands to stitch, so I can't hold your shirt up too."

There was zero chance of you taking off your shirt in front of Dean fucking Winchester. Absolutely not. No way in hell. He looked like that and you...well you didn't like anyone to see you without a shirt off.

"How 'bout I lay down on my stomach and pull my shirt up so it's out of the way?"

He sighed. "Fine, it's a reasonable compromise."

You nodded gratefully and laid down on your stomach, but the moment you did, you cried out in pain and rolled onto your side.

Dean was beside you in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Ribs," you muttered.

"Shit..." he paused for a moment. "(Y/N) please let me help you."

You looked up at him, tears filling your eyes--a mixture of pain and embarrassment.

"Hey," he said softly. "You're okay. I know it's not fun, but I need to get you stitched up before the cuts get infected."

You bit your lip and nodded. "Will you turn around until I'm ready?"

Dean offered you a soft smile. "Of course." He turned around and waited for you to tell him you were ready.

You moved slowly, lifting your shirt off over your head, inhaling sharply at the painful movements. A whimper left your lips, the pain forcing the sound out.

It took all of Dean's self-control to not turn around when he heard your soft whimper, but he'd promised to wait.

You balled your shirt up in front of you, using it to hide your stomach and as much of your chest as you could. "Okay," you whispered.

Dean turned around slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. He was very tempted to look down, but he knew it would be unwelcome. He settled onto the bed behind you and began to clean your wounds.

You hissed at the contact, wincing away from him.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head--shock settling into your bones at the sound of the pet name.

You tried to remain still as he continued cleaning, despite the pain that was radiating through your body.

"Alright, they're clean," Dean said gently. "Time for the stitches."

You tensed up as he gently placed his calloused hand against your skin.

"Just relax, okay? I've got you."

You did your best to relax and Dean started to stitch your skin back together. About halfway through, Sam arrived back at the motel.

"Yikes," Sam said when he saw the deep gashes on your back. "Those look gnarly."

"Yeah, it's not great," you muttered.

"Sorry, (Y/N/N)," Sam commented. "I brought your car back though." He held up the keys with an awkward smile.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Sammy, why don't you go round us up some food?" Dean requested.

Sam raised his eyebrows as he looked between you and Dean. "Alright, sure. What do you want?"

"Burgers and pie," Dean said immediately.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah, sounds good," you answered.

"Alright, I'll be back." Sam grabbed the Impala keys off the table and headed back out.

"You still with me, sweetheart?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, voice laced with pain and discomfort.

"I'll be done soon enough," Dean said gently. "Then onto the ones on your hip."

"Fuck," you muttered. You'd almost forgotten about the deep cuts on your hip, but the pain started back up at the mention of them.

"I'm going as quickly as I can without giving you some seriously hideous scars," Dean whispered.

You smiled a little at the sweetness of his words. "Thanks," you murmured.

Dean found himself fighting the urge to place a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder. He wanted to provide you comfort, but instead he was actively causing you pain--and he hated it.

After several more minutes of silence, Dean finished his last stitch. "All done."

You sighed gratefully. "Thank God."

"Actually, it's just Dean," he quipped lightly.

You laughed warmly, but the action hurt your ribs, causing a soft groan of pain.

"While I liked hearing you laugh, I'd rather not cause you more pain than I have to."

"Then don't make me laugh, Winchester," you teased.

He grinned. "I'm just naturally hilarious."

You chuckled again, trying to suppress the sound to prevent any pain.

"Alright, lose the pants."

"Excuse me?"

"I've gotta get to your hip somehow, sweetheart," he stated.

You groaned softly. The last thing you wanted to do was be essentially naked in front of him. "Fine, but I'm putting my shirt back on."

"Absolutely not. That thing is dirty and ruined. You're not putting it anywhere near those cuts." He started rummaging through his bag and he pulled out a flannel shirt. "Here, put this on."

You looked at him in disbelief. "I don't think I'm going to fit into your shirt."

He looked confused. "Of course you will. Just put it on."

You took the shirt from him, still convinced there was no way it would fit you. He was a large man, but you had a very full chest and soft stomach...you were used to not fitting into a man's clothing.

"Turn around," you whispered.

Dean sighed softly, but he turned around to give you the privacy you'd requested.

You pulled yourself up with a groan, tossing your dirty shirt onto the floor. You slowly pulled the flannel shirt on over your arms and nearly gasped in surprise when you realized that not only did the shirt fit you, but it was a little big on you. You buttoned the shirt quickly, feeling more than a little pleased at the way it fit. Plus, you couldn't help but notice the shirt smelled like Dean--like soap, leather, and a little bit of whiskey.

"Can I turn around now?"

"Oh...yeah."

He turned around and felt a tightening in his chest as he took in the image of you in his shirt. He didn't know he'd feel this way when he'd given you the shirt to wear, but damn--he couldn't help but notice how sexy you looked in his clothing.

"Told you it would fit," he said with a smirk. "Even looks big on you."

You blushed. "So you were right one time."

He laughed. "I promise it won't be the last."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile remained on your lips.

"Now the pants."

"I am not taking off my pants, Winchester."

"How am I supposed to clean your wounds through your pants?"

You groaned. "God, this is embarrassing," you muttered.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. I'm just trying to help."

You groaned a second time. "Fine," you grumbled.

Dean bit his lip and looked away. He needed you to stop making those damn sounds or he was going to lose his mind.

You looked up at him warily, making sure his gaze remained averted from you. You removed your pants as quickly as you could without causing yourself more pain. A few moments later, you were standing there in nothing but your underwear and Dean's shirt. Thankfully, the shirt was long enough that it covered you both in the front and back.

"You good?" he asked softly.

"Yeah...where--where do you want me?"

Dean groaned softly, desperately trying to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn't think you'd appreciate hearing where he really wanted you.

He kept his eyes trained on your face. "Lay down on your side so I can see your hip."

You swallowed thickly, feeling the change in the air of the room. You slowly lowered yourself onto the bed, shifting to lay on your side.

Dean grabbed a pillow. "Lift your head for me." You did as he asked and he slipped the pillow under your head to make it more comfortable for you.

He climbed onto the bed behind you and exhaled slowly, trying to keep his shit together. You looked gorgeous in his shirt, round ass barely peeking out from beneath it. He felt the strong urge to smack it, but he had a feeling you'd knock him out if he did.

"Damn," he whispered as he looked at the deep claw marks on your hip. "I think these are worse."

"Yeah, they don't feel great," you muttered softly.

"I'll try to be gentle."

Dean began to clean the wounds, sadness lacing its icy tendrils around his heart every time he heard you make a pained sound.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N/N)," he whispered.

"It's fine," you ground out. "Wait, did you just call me (Y/N/N)?"

He winced slightly. "I--uh--I did. Is that okay?"

You were quiet for a moment as you contemplated it. "Yeah...yeah it's okay."

He exhaled gratefully. He hadn't meant to call you a nickname--it had just kinda slipped out. He was glad it didn't upset you.

Dean had just started the stitches when Sam came back with food.

"Woah," Sam said as he caught a glimpse of the two of you on the bed--and you without pants.

"I'm stitching the wounds on her hip, you idiot," Dean said sharply.

"Oh--wait, why is she wearing your shirt?"

"Because hers was dirty, Samuel. Any more questions?"

Sam threw his hands up in defeat. "My bad--my bad."

"You better have brought me pie," Dean grumbled.

"I didn't forget the pie," Sam said in annoyance.

Your stomach suddenly grumbled loudly. "Apparently I'm starving," you said lightly.

"As soon as I'm done with the stitches, we can eat."

Sam held a container of fries out to you. "Want some?"

"Oh thank God," you muttered as you took the container from him.

"Quit moving," Dean admonished.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly. "Fry?"

He glanced at your extended hand and simply opened his mouth. You looked at him in confusion and he nodded to his hands. "I can't exactly grab it."

"Oh, right." You took a fry out of the container and held it out to him. He leaned forward and took the fry from your hand, a soft moan of enjoyment escaping his lips.

You felt a warmth spread through your lower body and your breathing became a little more labored. You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze, unable to look at him without blushing.

You continued eating your fries quietly as Dean finished stitching the cuts.

"All....done," Dean said softly as he finished the final stitch.

"Thank you," you said softly. You started to try and sit up and Dean grabbed you to help. "You're not gonna let me put my pants on, are you?"

Dean grinned ear to ear. "I mean, I do like you like this, but I'll let you put on pants--if you insist."

Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed deeply.

"But not your pants, of course," Dean said with a smirk. He dug into his bag again, producing a pair of well-worn sweats. "Here you go, sweetheart."

"Just because your shirt fits, doesn't mean your pants will."

He looked you up and down slowly. "Oh they'll fit, they'll just be a little long."

Sam looked back and forth between the two of you for a few moments. "Am I missing something here?"

"Nope," you both answered.

"Okaaaay..."

You leaned down to start pulling the sweatpants on and as you tugged them up your thighs, you realized Dean was once again correct. The damn things were gonna be loose.

You stood up slowly and pulled them up the rest of the way, tugging on the string to tighten them enough so they wouldn't sag. You looked down at your feet and chuckled at the fabric pooling around your feet.

"Need some help?" Dean asked lightly.

"Could you maybe roll up the bottoms? I don't wanna fall on my face."

He grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, earning a gasp of surprise from you. He slowly rolled up one pant leg, looked up at you with a little smirk, then rolled up the second pant leg. He looked back up at you with the same expression on his face. "Better?"

You didn't trust your voice, so you simply nodded.

He pulled himself up, suddenly towering over you again. Your knees felt weak--and it had nothing to do with your injuries.

"Uhhh...dinner is getting cold..." Sam muttered awkwardly.

"Mhmm," Dean hummed, gaze still fixed on your face.

"We should probably eat," you whispered.

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth, wetting his lips. His gaze was almost hungry as he regarded you, a soft smirk gracing his handsome face. "I am quite hungry," he murmured. "Very, very hungry."

You felt your pulse quicken and your lips parted slightly. The way he was looking at you made you think he wasn't referring to a hunger for burgers or pie...but you knew that couldn't be possible. Dean Winchester didn't want you--not like that.

You took control of the situation, stepping around Dean to limp towards the table. Dean quickly slipped an arm around your waist to help you.

"I'm alright, Dean."

"I'm not letting you fall and worsen your injuries."

You smiled up at him as he guided you to a chair and gently lowered you into it. He sat down in the chair beside yours and grabbed a burger for each of you out of the bag.

Sam had already eaten his dinner, so he was just watching the interactions between you and Dean. It was obvious he was confused, and to be honest, so were you.

Last time you'd talked to Dean, he'd apologized for being a massive asshole, but this transition was completely unexpected. You didn't know how to address it, or frankly, how to feel about it.

Instead, you decided to ask a question that had been tickling the back of your mind. "So...how did you guys find me?"

"Oh, that was all Dean," Sam admitted.

"Well you're the one who identified this case," Dean said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but you figured out where the monster was taking its victims--and then we saw your car."

"When we got inside the warehouse, I heard you yell in pain and I just--well, I just took off," Dean said.

You looked at both of them with a warm expression. "Well, thanks for saving me."

"You already thanked me," Dean said softly. "Besides, we both owed you our lives."

"He's not wrong," Sam added.

"Well, I'm thankful either way."

"You're welcome, (Y/N/N)," Dean said with a warm smile.

Sam gave his brother a weird look before looking back at you. "You're welcome."

The three of you continued to eat your dinner in relative silence, Sam or Dean occasionally chatting with each other while you looked on.

You watched Dean quietly, really taking him in for the first time. He was so incredibly beautiful--almost painfully so. His eyes were so kind, so much kinder than they'd been when you'd met. More importantly, he seemed lighter--more whole, than before.

You felt a stirring in your chest as you gazed at him, hating yourself for it. You shouldn't have any feelings for him--you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself in that position and you certainly didn't want to be another notch on Dean Winchester's bedpost.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Dean asked softly, shaking you from your thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You were staring at the side of my head," he said lightly.

"Oh, sorry. I completely zoned out."

"Don't worry about it. You're allowed."

The smile you gave him quickly turned into a yawn. "I suddenly got really tired. I think I'll go back to my room to sleep."

Dean practically jumped out of his chair. "I'll take you."

You gave him an odd look. "I think I can manage to limp my way three doors down."

"Well, I'd feel better if I went with you."

Your expression softened. "Alright, alright. Lemme get my shoes on."

Dean grabbed your boots and sat them in front of you, but when you bent down to get them on, you gasped as pain radiated from your bruised ribs.

"Here, let me help," Dean said gently.

You gladly accepted his help, allowing him to get your boots on both feet. He helped you out of your chair and Sam stood up as well. He hugged you gently, which you returned in kind.

"I'm glad you're okay," Sam whispered into your hair.

"Thanks, Sammy," you murmured.

He stepped back and gave his brother a look you couldn't decipher. "I'm gonna shower and then hit the hay."

"Sounds good. I'll be back in a bit," Dean said before taking your hand and helping you towards the door.

Once you were outside, Dean was instantly more protective of you. Either he was worried about you falling on the hard cement or something attacking you. Whichever one it was, his protectiveness warmed your heart.

"Want me to carry you again?" Dean teased lightly.

You smacked his arm affectionately. "I can walk on my own, Winchester. Slowly..."

He grinned. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"So about that...since when do you call me sweetheart?"

"Since today, I guess," Dean muttered.

"A pet name and a nickname in the same day...interesting."

"Interesting good or interesting bad?"

You looked up at him. "I haven't decided yet."

"Fair enough."

"This is it," you said as you stopped in front of your motel room. "Thanks for walking me over."

Dean gave you an odd look. "I'm not leaving you at the door, (Y/N)."

You chuckled. "I didn't wanna assume."

You unlocked the door and Dean helped you in. "Lemme check the room, okay?"

You watched Dean walk around the room, checking the closet and the bathroom for anything that might want to hurt you. Finding nothing, he came back into the room, much more relaxed than before.

"So no monsters in the closet?" you teased.

He smiled. "You're safe."

"I already felt safe," you said softly.

"Oh?"

You blushed and looked at the floor, a little embarrassed that those words had left your lips.

Dean crossed the space between you and slid a hand under your chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. "Are you saying I make you feel safe?"

His voice was soft and affectionate--it put you at ease. "Yes," you whispered honestly.

Dean smiled warmly. "That's the best thing you could ever say to me."

"Easy to please, I see," you joked lightly, trying to keep your cool.

"Not usually, but you seem to be an exception to the rule."

The way he was looking at you sent a warm feeling through your body and you felt heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand was still on your chin, but you wanted to feel it everywhere.

His thumb began to gently brush against your skin, hand sliding up to your cheek. You leaned into it and your eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. You felt dean's thumb brush gently against your lower lip and you inhaled sharply, eyes opening to meet his fiery gaze.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

You desperately wanted to say yes, everything in you was screaming to say yes...but you couldn't. You needed to know what his intentions were.

"What do you want from me?" you whispered.

He looked taken aback. "I thought that was obvious."

You took a step back and his hand dropped from your face. "I know your reputation...I don't wanna be just another one night stand or some story you tell the boys around the campfire."

He looked hurt--almost as if you'd slapped him. But he seemed to realize you were right...he did have a reputation. "I know it's hard to trust me...I haven't been good to you in the past, but this isn't some one night stand, pity sex thing. I want you. I want this."

"This?" you whispered.

"You're so damn strong, (Y/N). You're smart and funny, you're an amazing hunter and an even better woman. You're brave and selfless and so incredibly loyal. I'm sorry I didn't see it when we first met, but I see it now. I can see what Sam saw in you when we first met. I've spent the last 8 months thinking about you constantly. I want something real with you, (Y/N). It scares the hell out of me, but I need you in my life...if you'll have me."

You listened to his words and you heard the emotion in them. You could feel how much he cared about you--how deeply he meant what he was saying. "I never thought you'd want someone like me."

He looked confused. "Do you mean perfect? Because that's what you are to me."

You gasped softly. "What?"

"You're not a perfect person--none of us are, but you're perfect for me."

"Have you lost your mind? Any recent head injuries?"

Dean laughed lightly. "Nothing like that, baby. I want this--it's real for me."

"Why me?" you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

"I think I just explained that, sweetheart," he said gently.

You gestured to your body as you said, "But I look like this--and you...you look like that."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't you dare talk badly about your body, baby. Don't you dare."

Tears stung your eyes and you sniffled softly.

"Look at me sweetness," he said softly, taking your face in his hands. "I know I said some terrible things when we first met--some of them about your body. I said it because I knew it would hurt you--I could tell you had some insecurities and I played on them. I feel terrible for it--fucking awful. But I didn't really mean it, baby. I just wanted to hurt you. Please forgive me--please believe me."

The tears streamed down your face and he gently wiped them away.

"It's okay, beautiful. Talk to me."

You sniffed softly. "I forgive you, Dean...and I believe you."

He smiled warmly as he continued to wipe your tears. He stepped a little closer and placed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips.

You leaned into the kiss, returning the affection in kind. When his lips left yours, he brushed the last tears from your face. "You wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You smiled and shook your head. "I wanna get in bed, but I'm not feeling as tired now."

Dean smirked and his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as gently as he could. "Oh really? And what would you like to do in bed?"

"I have a feeling you have some ideas."

"Oh baby, I have a lot of ideas...but you've been through a lot today. I don't wanna hurt you."

"I guess you'll just have to be really gentle," you whispered against his lips.

He groaned softly. "I can be gentle...I can be so fucking gentle."

You giggled softly and he smiled, pressing his lips against yours.

"I wanna manhandle the shit outta you just to prove to you that I can...but that'll have to wait until you've healed. For now, I want you to do exactly what I tell you to--and stop me if it hurts too much, okay?"

You nodded.

"Baby, I'm gonna need you to use those words."

"Yes, Dean," you murmured.

He pressed his body up against yours again and you could feel his erection against your abdomen. "You know, I just thought of something..."

"What's that?"

"I think that's the second time you've ever called me by my name."

"What? No--can't be."

"The first time was when you forgave me and then you just said it now...but you usually just call me 'Winchester'."

You thought about it for a moment and realized he was right. "I kinda like saying your name...Dean."

He groaned softly. "I fucking love it, baby. I'm gonna make you scream my name, pretty girl."

"We'll see," you teased.

"Is that a challenge?"

You grinned. "One hundred percent."

"Oh you are in for it now, gorgeous."

You laughed as he pressed his lips against yours before trailing kisses down your neck. He nipped at your pulse point and you moaned softly, earning a grunt of approval from Dean.

"Now remember," he murmured against your skin. "You promised to do what I tell you to, but if you wanna stop, just tell me, okay? I won't do anything you don't wanna do."

You sighed softly. "I trust you, Dean."

"Good," he whispered. "Now take off your clothes."

You gasped in surprise, but quickly started to unbutton your shirt. When it came time to take it off completely, you froze, the familiar discomfort sinking into your mind.

"Hey," he said gently. "Take off whatever you're comfortable with, sweetheart, but I want you to remember that I think you're sexy as hell, okay?"

You nodded and took a deep breath before sliding your shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes roamed your torso appreciatively.

"Can I take off your bra?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

He unhooked your bra with one hand, and gently pulled it forward, exposing your ample breasts to his hungry eyes. "Fuck..." he whispered.

You felt the strong urge to cover up, but you kept your arms at your sides, allowing Dean to take in every inch of skin he could see.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, (Y/N)."

You whimpered softly as his lips latched onto your nipple, one hand at the small of your back to hold you up and the other massaging your breast gently.

Your hands tentatively rested on Dean's shoulders, and you could feel the taunt muscles shift beneath his shirt. You desperately wanted to feel his skin against yours, so you curled your fingers into his shirt and tugged on it gently.

He released your nipple and looked up at you. "What is it, baby? What do you need?"

You bit your lip and shifted slightly. "I wanna feel your skin."

He chuckled softly. "Like this?" he asked as he ran his hands slowly down your sides.

You shook your head and reached for the hem of his shirt. As soon as your hand managed to touch it, he understood what you were asking. He stepped back and yanked his shirt off over his head.

As much as you wanted to feel his body against yours, you stopped him when he leaned back towards you. He looked a little saddened, misunderstanding your movement.

"I'm trying to appreciate perfection," you said softly.

He smiled and puffed out his chest slightly. "You're the perfect one, baby."

You looked up at him with a smile. "Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

He guided you over to the bed and he sat down on the edge, pulling you down with him. You straddled his lap and ground yourself down against his very prominent bulge.

You gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the soft sounds you made. He grabbed ahold of your hips, careful to avoid the wounds on your left one.

"I think you should lose the pants, baby--underwear too."

You pulled yourself off of him, stepping back to slowly peel off your pants and underwear. Your hands were shaking slightly, nervous about being completely naked in front of him. When you stood back up, you found Dean's gaze glued to your body, eyes tracing every inch of you he could see.

He reached out to touch you, but you took a step back, making him look up at you in surprise.

You smirked slightly, feeling emboldened by the obvious desire in his eyes.

"Baby..." he said softly. "Come here."

You shook your head. "Not until you're naked too."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but a small smirk danced across his lips. He liked your commanding voice--he was almost surprised by how much it turned him on.

He stood up, eyes never leaving your face. He slowly took off his jeans, stepping forward to get out of them. He hooked his fingers into his boxers and lowered them slowly, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

You inhaled sharply as you took in his size--much larger than you were accustomed to. Your eyes flicked back up to his and his smirk had widened slightly.

"Like what you see, pretty girl?"

"Very much, but I'm a little...concerned."

"About what?"

You looked down at his cock and back up at his face. "You're a little...large."

He laughed softly. "I'll be gentle."

"I'm more concerned about it not fitting."

He grinned. "That should not make me feel so good," he chuckled. "It'll fit, sweetheart. You'll see."

"I trust you."

He smiled and took a step towards you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. He kissed you softly, hands roaming your skin, loving the feeling of your softness. "Fuck, baby--I wanna taste you. I need to."

You gasped softly as two of his fingers gently swiped between your pussy lips, collecting some of your slick. He brought the fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

"You taste delicious, sweetness. I want more."

He pulled you down onto the bed with him, tugging your body on top of him. You kissed him passionately, as you ground your hips against his cock.

He groaned into your mouth and his hands traveled up your back, massaging soft circles into your skin.

"Come up here, baby," he begged.

You pulled back, staring at him in confusion. "I don't understand."

He gently caressed your thighs. "I wanna taste you--come sit on my face."

"Do you have a death wish?"

He looked surprised. "What?"

"I'll smother you, Dean."

He rolled his eyes. "Then I'll die an extremely happy man. Suffocate me between those thick, sexy thighs, baby."

Your eyes widened, but you were more than a little intrigued by the concept. You'd never been asked to sit on anyone's face before and you'd certainly never suggested it. You had to admit, you'd always wanted to try it.

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck yeah, babe."

"Okay," you agreed softly.

Dean gently guided you towards his face, helping you straddle his head. His left hand gripped your right hip and he laid his right hand on your left thigh.

"Put my hand above your cuts so I can hold onto you," he requested softly.

You took his right hand and placed it just above the deep gashes on your left hip.

"Good girl," Dean praised. "Now have a seat and let me feast on you."

You lowered yourself onto his mouth, but didn't quite sit down. Instead of admonishing you, Dean dug his fingers into your flesh and tugged you down firmly.

You cried out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure as his tongue slipped through your folds. Dean groaned loudly as he began to devour you.

You had never in your life felt pleasure like Dean was giving you in this moment. The sounds that his ministrations pulled from your lips were absolutely sinful. Your legs had already begun to shake and you were gripping the headboard like your life depended on it.

"Dean, I'm so close," you gasped.

He moaned into your core and his fingers dug further into your flesh, blunt nails scraping against your skin. He didn't stop his actions--the desire to feel you cum outweighing his need to breathe.

Within moments, you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your thighs squeezing his head tightly. Dean continued working you through your orgasm until you started to squirm away from him. He finally let you go and you leaned back onto his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean moved you as gently as he could, shifting you to straddle his hips as he pulled himself into a sitting position, feet planted firmly on the floor beside the bed. He pulled you against his chest and brushed his fingers through your hair.

"You okay, baby?" he asked softly, lips pressed to your forehead.

"More than okay," you mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled softly as he held you against him, loving the feeling of your softness beneath his fingers.

After a few more moments, you sat up and bit your lip. "Dean?"

He smiled at you. "Hmm?"

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes widened slightly and he shifted his hips under you, brushing his cock against your core. "I'm happy to oblige," he teased softly.

You sighed as he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into the kiss and his hands slid down your body, lifting you slightly so he could line himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure you wanna do it in this position?" you asked quietly.

"It's the only position where I can pleasure you, hold you close, and avoid hurting you. So yeah, baby, I'm sure."

You looked into his beautiful green eyes and smiled warmly. You could feel how much he cared about you and it warmed your soul.

"You ready?" he whispered.

"I'm ready."

He held his cock firmly, letting you take the lead as you slowly lowered yourself down onto him. By the time you'd lowered yourself completely, you were both breathless.

The stretch was incredible--unlike anything you'd ever experienced. You swore you could feel him in your lower belly--you'd never felt so full.

Dean leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he let you adjust to his size.

"You can move now," you whispered.

"Just one moment, sweetheart, I--I need a moment."

"Are you okay?"

He looked up at your pretty face and smiled. "I'm fucking phenomenal, babe...but your pussy feels so goddamn incredible, so tight and warm--I just need a second to control myself."

You blushed at his praise, warmth rushing through your body at his words. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then his jaw, before finding the sweet spot on his neck that made him moan.

His hands dug into your flesh as he started to roll his hips against yours. You gasped softly against his skin, pleasure washing over you.

"Hold onto me, sweetheart," Dean murmured softly.

You did as he asked, clinging tightly to his shoulders and tightening your thighs against his.

Dean wrapped his arms around you, careful not to hold you too tightly or touch your stitched wounds. He pressed his lips softly against your collarbone as he rolled his hips again.

He gave you less than a second to get comfortable before he began to thrust up into you in earnest. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, allowing him to piston up into you.

"Dean!" you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

Each thrust was calculated and hard, making your body shiver with pleasure. He shifted slightly, pulling you more firmly into his chest, which changed the angle of his thrusts. The new angle allowed him to hit your g-spot with each thrust.

You moaned loudly and dug your nails more firmly into his shoulders and back.

"There it is," Dean murmured against your soft skin. "Feels so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you pleaded.

"I have no intention to."

His thrusts sped up to an almost shocking speed and your whole body vibrated with pleasure. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, but you couldn't voice it. The pleasure overwhelmed your mind--rendering you speechless.

"You close baby? I can feel you squeezing me."

In response, you nipped at his shoulder and moaned into his skin.

He chuckled lightly. "That's it, pretty girl. I want you to cum for me--wanna feel you cum all over my cock."

You whimpered softly, "Please."

"I've got you, baby. Let go for me."

Your legs had begun to shake and you cried out in pleasure as your orgasm slammed into you with surprising force. You called his name as he worked you through it, thrusts beginning to falter as he chased his own high.

"I'm close, baby," he whispered against your throat.

You used what strength you had left to clamp down onto his cock, squeezing him as tightly as you could.

"Oh--fuck," Dean gasped. He began to cum inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder to keep himself from crying out at the intensity of his orgasm.

You relaxed your body against him as his thrusts slowed to a stop, forehead resting against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean's arms were still wrapped around you, holding you close to him as he came down from his high. He placed soft open mouthed kisses to your skin and whispered sweet nothings.

Dean began to shift his body as his member softened inside you. You whimpered softly, body too sensitive for any kind of movement.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You okay?"

You nodded. "I'm okay, just a little sore."

He grinned wolfishly. "That makes me feel good."

You laughed softly and smacked his arm affectionately. "It's a little bit of you and a little of that whole monster fight from earlier."

He made a pouty face, which only made you laugh more. The increased laughter hurt your sore ribs and you winced at the pain.

"Shit, sorry sweetheart."

"Not your fault."

He brushed your hair back from your face so he could look at you better. "You look so sexy right now, baby."

You blushed. "I look like I had the shit beat out of me."

"Nah, you look like you just got well and properly fucked," he teased.

You chuckled slightly. "It was quite nice, I must say."

He grinned. "Just you wait until you're all healed up--I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to walk straight for days."

You gasped. "Oh my."

He licked his lips and kissed you softly. "I could kiss you all night long."

"As much as I would love that, I think we should take a shower. I'm exhausted."

"Alright, pretty girl." Dean stood up, still holding you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to avoid falling to the ground. "I've got you, (Y/N/N)."

You looked down at him. "I know."

He smiled and kissed you gently. "Shower, then bed."

"Yes, sir."

"Oo," he said happily. "I like that."

You grinned. "I'll keep that in mind for later."

Dean grinned back at you. "You're gonna be in for a wild ride, sweetness."

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely."

After your shower, Dean carried you back to your bed and laid you down gently. He crawled into the bed beside you and pulled you close so your head was resting on his chest.

He kissed the top of your head and ran his fingers up and down your arm. "I want you to come with us," he said suddenly.

"What?" you asked in surprise as you looked up at him.

"I want you to come hunt with Sam and I...permanently."

"Are you--are you sure?"

"I told you this was real for me, baby. I want to try this with you, and that means you should be with me. I mean--if you want."

You smiled at him and touched his cheek gently. "I would love to go with you."

He grinned happily and kissed you sweetly. "Excellent. I'm sure Sam won't mind."

"As long as we get our own room, I'm sure he won't," you teased.

He laughed. "Oh yeah, we're gonna need that."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You yawned and curled further into him, exhaustion finally weighing you down.

"Go to sleep baby. I'll be right here when you wake up," Dean whispered.

You fell fast asleep in Dean's arms and he watched you for a while before sleep finally came to him. He hadn't felt so full and happy in a long time and it was one hundred percent because of you. He felt honored you were willing to give a relationship with him a chance, despite everything that had happened between the two of you in the past. He was determined to do everything he could to make sure you never regretted that decision.

Buy Me a Coffee 💜

[scarkely]

A different take on Sam's revival in s2e22

------------------------------------------------

Bobby comes to see Dean. He's worried about the guy. His brother just died, and not to state the obvious, but he isn't taking it very well.

Instead of walking in on Dean crying or yelling or breaking things, any of the 5 stages of grief, he walks in to find Dean lying on the mattress with Sam's body. He's wrapped around him, clinging like a limpet.

Bobby feels a bit ill. He's never seen anyone grieve this way. Something is wrong with Dean, seriously wrong. He needs help. He's holding onto Sam like he's still... here. Still alive. Holding him like a big teddy bear.

Dean had refused to even entertain the idea of burying Sam. He's just been staying here with his body, unwilling to tear himself away for even a moment.

He needs to get Dean out of this house. He needs to get him to let go, no matter how hard it may be.

When Dean looks up at him, he's glaring. He looks like a feral animal protecting its cub, ready to lash out at a moments notice. His expression has a dangerous edge to it.

Before Bobby can say anything, Sam begins to stir slightly, muttering a quiet, confused, "Dean?"

Bobby's blood runs cold. Sam was dead. He'd been dead for too long to spontaneously decide to awaken. Suddenly, Dean looks away from him. He stares at Sam now, and none of that glare is left in his eyes. He's entirely transfixed by Sam. It's like Bobby isn't even in the room anymore.

"It's okay, Sammy. You're okay. I'm gonna take care of you." Dean promises, running a comforting hand through Sams hair. And Sam calms down, not seeming to even notice Bobby in the doorway.

Bobby doesn't want to know what would happen if he did what he morally should and split them up. If not even death could get between Dean and his brother, he didn't stand a chance.

He shuts the door on his way out.

[1-800-local-slut]

All I Want (Pt. 1/3)

Dean has a crush. Nothing strange, Dean's fallen for tons of women. Only problem is it’s on his brother’s girlfriend. She’s a sweet girl, who makes Sammy happy. And that makes Dean happy. Only problem is he wants some of that happiness, and he doesn’t want it from anyone else.

Dean Winchester x Black! Fem! Reader (One-sided)

Sam Winchester x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: one sided love, pining, Dean is bummed out, mentions of alcohol, Dean wants reader bad but she's in love with Sam, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy scare, reader wears jewelry, most (if not all) of the female characters have a lot of accessories (lipgloss, nails, lashes, mascara, jewelry) because a lot of my works are self-indulgent and I'm a girly-girl ngl so i like being dressed up and having a lot of accessories on so if its not for you just ignore it

Part 1 of 3! I wanted to try a mini series, I'm excited to write this. I'm in an angsty mood lately. So here's some Dean angst, which in my humble opinion is the best kind. Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

Check out part two if you enjoyed!

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

The first time it happened, he was nothing short of terrified. It came back negative, the pregnancy test. He came downstairs to see Sam and his girlfriend holding hands at the table. Her leg bounced up and down nervously and Sam ran a hand down his face in pure anxiety.

"Morning, what's, uh, what's going on?" Dean asked approaching the two. She looked up at him with those brown eyes that captured both him and his brother by the heart and refused to let them go.

In Sam's oversized t-shirt, light pink silk bonnet that tied into a cute bow in the front

Sam glanced up at him, but he hardly noticed. Letting out a hard exhale, Sam shook his head and twisted to look up at Dean. He motioned towards the table and the test with the forming lines.

''Hopefully, nothing." Sam sighed. His big green eyes reflected some fear that Dean felt when he saw the test.

Pregnant. Sam may have gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Dread filled his heart, like water filling a balloon. It was like he was being melted on the inside with fear, a cold feeling running through his bones. Like his blood turned to cold water.

After a second, Dean remembered Sam was looking at him. His little brother was staring at him in a moment he was afraid. He needed his big brother to say something, anything.

Clearing his throat and rubbing his sweaty palms down his jeans, he coughed.

"Well damn Sammy, I thought I taught you to wrap it before you tap it." With a smirk, he watched the gorgeous woman sat next to his brother roll her eyes. Even the way they rolled into the back of her head was beautiful.

"Very funny Dean. I'm freaking out here, what if..." Trailing off, she placed a nail in her mouth, chewing on the press ons with vigor. Sam quickly squeezed her hand and Dean felt himself fade into the back ground. Could feel himself become a background character to his brother and his girlfriend the way he always had.

"Hey, I'm here. We'll be okay." Sam promised, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. With a shy smile, Dean cleared his throat again.

"You love birds have fun, I'm gonna make some breakfast. I'll make some extra since someone's carrying for two." Turning he began to leave, and hopefully leave the nerves behind him. A baby? He would be an uncle if Sam was having a baby.

"Dean!" Sam chastised as he left the room with a winning chuckle.

"What?" He called back, glancing back over his shoulder. Just to see Sam placing his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. She put her smaller hand on Sam's huge one and gave him a small attempt to be positive.

"Not funny, dude." Sam pushed part of her bonnet out of her face and adjusted it on her head for her. A minuscule, tender act of love that said everything that needed to be said between the two. Dean shook the ugly feeling clawing at the knot in his stomach and headed into the kitchen.

Dean wasn't sure when it started. He didn't know when he started to flee when his brother was with the young woman. He didn't know when the kisses and hugs started slowly killing his heart. When he started to wish she was perched on Dean's lap and not Sam's. Making his way to the kitchen, he tried to take his mind off it.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking of babies. A cute, chubby cheeked baby. Maybe with Sam's green eyes, or its mothers deep brown beauties. Would it have black curls or inherit its fathers chestnut waves? Either way, he could see a large, full head of curls inherited from it's mom. Or-

"Oh! Wait, wait! It's showing up!" A chair scraping as she shot up from the table broke Dean from his thoughts. Another scrape followed, probably Sam getting to his feet.

Dean slammed the fridge at the excited yelp and he made his way back to the room where Sam and his girl were both standing up now. Sam squinting to get a better view of the test and holding it up to his face.

"Read it for me, I'm scared." She protested, while wildly waving the test around for Sam to read. Taking a tender hold of her risk and pushing her bracelets out of the way for him to get a better hold.

"Hold still, wait, its..."

"Hold on, coming in hot!" Dean exclaimed, sliding in just behind her.

The three held their breath in silence. Something told Dean the three of them shared the same thought.

'Please be negative.' Although Dean hated to admit, but part of him wanted nothing more than a single line to pop up. He couldn't help himself. He wasn't sure if he could take seeing Sam start a family with her without having to run out of a room.

"Negative!" Sam exclaimed and she let out an excited cheer. Jumping into Sam's arms and planting a hard kiss on his lips, Dean coughed and clapped for the two.

"Well, that was a bullet dodged, but I know what I'll be getting for you for Christmas." Dean watched a smile grace Sam's handsome face. That happiness on Sam's face, was worth it. It was worth the joy on his face that dissolved the ugly knot in his heart.

"You're so stupid." She giggled, her cheeks glowing with joy. Letting go of Sam, she turned and jumped right into Dean's arms.

"Okay, happiness all around." Dean chuckled. Her hugging him was nothing wrong. A kind, warm and touchy person. That's what she is. Her grace and warmth flooding everyone she came into contact with. The genuine love and kindness she showed everybody was so over whelming, so blinding it felt like it was purifying Dean of all of his sins.

Slowly he wrapped his arms around her hips, and he gave her a squeeze. A hefty one, a squeeze of celebration, now that he knew there was no risk of crushing something precious in her stomach.

[retromotherfuckers]

When the Sun Sets - Part 3

In-Between

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), sam winchester, dean winchester, alastair

Summary:

the winchesters after the death of the middle child. oh, and hell.

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, vague mention of not eating for a while, slightly suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 8, following canon stops after the end of season 2, but things are definitely going to be mentioned.

Word Count:

2.1k ~ roughly

A/N:

ahhh this one, i love this one. trigger warning for torture. POV switches a few times.

italics = flashback.

dean: 28, morgan: 27, sam: 24

It was all too much.

"I'm not gonna let you go to Hell, Mo!" Sam, the middle Winchester, said as his tears betrayed him.

Morgan wouldn't let them save her. She didn't even let them try. After what felt like a lifetime of them protecting her, she wouldn't accept any more of it. Sam and Dean Winchester used every outlet, read every book they could find twice and called every hunter they knew to find some way to get her out of this with no luck. Their last ditch effort, was doomed to end just end the way they dreaded the most; with the middle child being scratched and ripped to shreds by hellhounds.

She made a deal with the devil. Now her fate was sealed.

“Yes, you are.”

One shot.

The old grandfather clock struck midnight and marked the close of a year, bringing the siblings to silence. It was an earthquake confined to the small room and Dean wasn't positive, but he thought he could see the sound waves as they pulsed and thumped. He could feel them in his bones, leaving them shattered in their wake. He felt his stomach rise up to his throat at the pang. He couldn't control the way his heart started to pound, like it would explode out of his chest.

The demon was next to his sister, and expressed her sympathies, but Morgan couldn't peel her eyelids up to look at her. Eyes the color of the sky had filled with tears, sticking to her lashes. He knew that if she blinked, they'd fall, and the fallacy she'd created - that this case was just a run-of-the-mill salt and burn - would be destroyed.

Then, when she flinched without warning, he knew she was hearing them. Fatal and hungry. Her voice broke through the tauntingly ominous quiet, and somehow it's worse than the damn clock.

“Hellhounds.”

Another one.

Morgan's voice was familiar to her brothers, but it was deeper than usual. Full of gravel, and it lacked the authority it usually held. It was hollow and horse and full of fear, something Sam and Dean didn't want to hear from their sister again. Sam's face was nearly a replica when he spoke, asking how she could hear it, and where it was coming from.

Then they were running. Doing everything they could to get her away from the dogs that wanted to pull her soul from her body piece by piece, atom by atom, back to Hell with them for eternal damnation. They made it into a small office, Sam, Ruby and Morgan holding the door shut, keeping the hounds out while Dean put a barrier line on the floor and windows so they couldn't get in right away. It was a futile effort, maybe it would buy them a few seconds, but it wasn't fucking enough.

The bourbon slid down his throat, smooth and warm, a burn that matched the sting in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall as he let out a shaky exhale and tried to breathe past the tightening in his throat. No matter what he did, no matter how much he drank, nothing would free him from the memory. He knew it wasn't going away, but he was determined to keep at it until he couldn't remember his sister's name anymore.

Morgan's screams echoed through their ears, pulsing and tearing at them again and again until it hurts their own vocal cords. They stared, not making a sound, just watching their sister get torn apart until she couldn't breathe. Until they couldn't breathe. Dean thought that, maybe in some corner of reality, Sam was saying something but his pleas continue to go ignored. Dean could only sit with his knees to the floor - and not just because Lilith wasn't letting him move.

Her blood was everywhere; the floor, the walls, some on his legs. The clatter of a knife hitting the floor went unnoticed. The youngest Winchester's cries as he held the motionless body didn't exist.

There was nothing except the ringing in Dean's ears.

There was nothing but a body that was getting cold and he couldn't tell if it was Morgan's or his.

Who the hell cares how long ago it was? There were some things time couldn't heal. And even Dean couldn’t deny that the past was harder to deal with when the sun sets.

The bartender gave him an incredulous gaze as he motioned for more, it was a look that told him he was probably close to finishing the bottle. A look he had been getting a lot lately. He wanted to retort rudely but even the alcohol couldn't weaken his exceptional ability to keep his mouth shut.

A brush of red hair suddenly entered his peripheral vision. He turned to see a woman, probably twenty-nine or thirty, definitely not much older or younger than him. She wore a sleeveless red flannel tied up at her ribs, denim shorts with the pockets sticking out at the front that barely left anything to the imagination, a light brown cowboy hat with matching boots and a belt. Practically every other redneck chick ever, Dean thought, but I'm not complaining.

Dean sat a bit confused for a moment when the girl didn't say anything. She just stood there, right next to him, too close - in an under-crowded bar no less - to pretend she didn't have any intentions. He guessed that the blonde was trying to put together a coherent pick-up line before she spoke. When she finally decided to talk, her words were kind of slurred together and very accented, but not too much where the eldest Winchester was worried about taking advantage. If anything, he rationalized, I'm drunker. He practically grew up drinking, given his family, and learned how to handle booze early on.

"What's a guy like you doin' in a place like this?"

"It took you two 'n a half minutes to come up with that? What are you? A guy?"

"Hey," She chuckled. "Gimme a break, been drinkin' a bit."

Dean eyed her up and down a second time, making it blatantly obvious he was checking her out. He hummed and nodded, silently giving the girl his approval. "Clearly."

The woman wasn't really clean, with dirt under her chipped finger nails that suggested she didn't ever wash her hands. There was a sheen of soot all over her exposed skin. Which there was a lot of, but again, he was not complaining. She kind of looked gross if Dean had anything to say about it. But she had a nice enough face and she was his type on paper: skinny with an ass, curly hair.

Plus, it wasn't like he hadn't gone a week without showering before. And come to think of it, that had become way less rare over the past few months.

So who was he to judge?

Sam Winchester used to give his siblings a hard time for how much they drank. But honestly? He got it now. As he had his mouth to Ruby's wrist, guzzling down her blood for the fourth time that night, he wondered why he didn't try it sooner. Well, he knew why. Because the thought of ingesting demon blood was foreign to just about everyone. It made him feel alive, helped him forget. Or it at least distracted him enough to the point where couldn't even begin to think about it. Kept his ass from bouncing off the walls when thinking about his sister or the last time he saw Dean became too much. 

He hadn't seen Dean in months, and he almost didn't want to. The two of them were so far removed from each other that by that point, he didn't know how to break the ice. He didn't know if Dean even wanted him to.

He was stuck, picturing Morgan tied up, being tortured, because of him. Because she just had to go and save him. There was nothing he could do about it anymore. There was no getting her out of Hell. He had already tried to make a deal, and he didn't even have to wonder if Dean did too. There was nothing the Winchester brothers wouldn't do for their sister. But the sheer fact that there wasn't anything left for them to try was enough to keep him locked in that fucked up cycle with Ruby.

Hook up with her, drink her blood, kill some demons, increase his skill, repeat.

What else could he do?

Morgan Winchester was dead. She didn't know exactly for how many Earth years, but in Hell time, it'd been six thousand.

The first forty years were doable, being strung up on the rack was doable. The whips, her fingernail's being torn off, the knives slowly cutting away at her. She could handle it. She could even handle the psychological torture, having her hallucinate her siblings and parents, coming in and telling her what they truly thought of her. All things she had already known, and had already believed. But it was when they upped the anti, that she started to crack. It was when demons started doing all of that and more as her family. When they stopped using tools and started using their hands, she had truly begun to break. There was another fifteen years of that.

And when she finally gave up, it had become her job to do it to someone else.

Alastair was a damn good teacher, she had to give it to him. He had been the one to torture her, and he basked in the glory of turning a Winchester into a demon. It took about three thousand more Hell years, but she finally finished the program. Two thousand tortured souls under her belt to her teacher's satisfaction.

Demons started torturing to avoid being tortured themselves. They were the result of going to Hell and having all humanity burned out of their human soul. They were dark, malicious spirits that reveled in pain, chaos and death. Ruby had told Morgan that most demons forgot what it meant to be human. Some even forget that they were humans in the first place. She had learned some demons were true believers, though, in Hell's purpose. To cleanse. And they truly believed themselves morally superior to humans.

But after another thousand years, she started having fun.

She had only wished that by the time she was down there and playing her latest game on the next soul, she could've gotten the chance to torture her father. Get her grimy hands on his skin and tear it off of him cell by cell. Then she heard Sam was down there, too, and she would've been upset, had she not known he was locked up in the cage with Lucifer. She knew she was good at her job, but compared Lucifer and Michael? Even as a demon, her ego hadn't grown that big.

And then she got to pick her own name, and all bets were off.

On Earth, Adriadne had never seen a demon's true form. Now down in the pit, where they roamed freely and carelessly, she didn't flinch at the sight of them. When her soul had started changing, becoming stickier, malleable, and black, she almost second guessed her decision to get off the rack. But at the same time, her memories of her time on Earth were starting to fade. They started twisting into her memories of being tortured - becoming one in the same.

Recently, she had heard a few more things. One; that Dean Winchester, someone she couldn't quite put her finger on, was in purgatory with an angel. Two; that Crowley was not only the king of Hell, but he was granting certain demons passage to Earth for a little joyride upstairs. Three; that he was restoring their old bodies, if in decent enough shape.

Eventually, Adriadne, no longer remembered her real name. Adriadne was who she is, was and what she would always be, for the rest of time. Where there used to be normal human eyes there was only darkness. No pupil, no cornea, no whites of the eyes; everything was just black.

She did remember there were people on Earth that used to love her, and she remembered the physical aspects to being human. Having to eat and sleep and breathe, but not much else. There was something about needing connection with another human that meant something to them, but it was lost on her.

But as she tried to remember the smallest bit about who she used to be, she realized it was pointless. Why would she try to remember when she was powerless? When she had no purpose, no duty?

She figured that maybe a trip upstairs in her original meat suit might be fun. She couldn’t find a reason not to.

Why wouldn’t she take the chance to feel the sun on her skin?

[queermania]

And👏this👏is👏why👏Dean👏was👏out👏of👏character👏in👏season👏13-15👏

i disagree. taking a character and pushing him to his breaking point isn't writing him out of character. the issue isn't that dean's behavior was out of character. it's that it wasn't portrayed effectively. instead of wearing him down slowly over the course of a few seasons and having him get progressively worse, they had him going back and forth between being Fine™ and being Angry™. and realistically, that is how trauma works, but for a television show it just made it feel like his reactions to things were disproportionate or that they came out of nowhere, when they really really did not.

the main issue people have is his relationship with jack. dean wanting to kill jack at the beginning of s13 is not all that out of character. from his perspective, a nephilim (which he's told is an abomination that needs to be destroyed) is conceived via lucifer (which, i mean, it really shouldn't matter who the angel was but i'm not gonna pretend like the show didn't make it into a Whole Thing so whatever). cas says it's of paramount importance that the nephilim be aborted. the nephilim brainwashes both kelly and cas and now cas will stop at nothing to protect it. the nephilim tears the fabric of the universe, which basically summons lucifer to their location. crowley sacrifices himself to repair the tear. cas dies. mary dies. jack is not a baby. he's a fully grown being with glowing eyes and unimaginable power. now, is that everything that happened and is it everything that matters? no, of course not. but we have the benefit of not living that reality; we can be a lot more objective. so a grief-stricken dean who's just lost three of the most important people in the world to him is obviously not thinking rationally or even compassionately about what he sees as a monster (not a newborn baby). the way dean treats jack directly and indirectly during the widower arc is not okay but it's not out of character.

but then dean starts to warm up to jack and then cas comes back and it's fine. they're fine. dean and jack are cool, good even. but then jack burns off his soul and accidentally kills mary and dean does... all of that. and i'm not going to rehash the events leading up to 'moriah' again because i've already spent a lot of time talking about it, but his behavior during that time isn't out of character. it all makes sense. it's just that we've kind of already done this, just on a smaller scale. dean was angry with jack and then they were good but now he's back to being angry again. so it feels a little off.

but then chuck kills jack and dean is still angry so he lashes out at cas (and again, i'm not going to rehash this because i've already done it) but again, it's not out of character. it's the culmination of a decade's worth of shit. but they make up and then jack comes back. and things are understandably awkward between them but dean's not angry. he even saves jack from mrs. buttersworth.

but then chuck stuff starts happening again and billie offers a plan that requires jack to sacrifice himself and dean is like okay and then things get super intense in 'unity' and again dean is yelling at any and everyone.

and none of that is out of character. it's just that it feels like it comes out of nowhere because he's been so calm for so long. it doesn't feel like it's all building to that point in 'unity.' it just feels like they keep throwing spaghetti at the wall to make dean mad and then when he does get mad, the characters around him and the fandom are like 'there he go again being mad' despite constantly being put in situations constructed to make him mad.

i will concede that there are a couple of writers who wrote him out of character and their episodes/certain lines stick out pretty obviously to me. but. you know. that's not unique to dabb era.

the only thing that is fully out of character is the gun to kaia's head, and given that kaia gets over it almost immediately and then runs into dean's arms when they rescue her from the bad place, i choose to pretend it didn't happen at all. it was just a narrative device to move the plot along. (and also it was written by one of the people who writes him ooc more often than not).

[sperboytm]

“Shhhh. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” NSFW things to say to submissive muses for @therebetterbepie

was the stall of a seedy bar the most ideal place for this? absolutely not. and yet this was where they had ended up and it was entirely Kon's own fault. Dean had been busy attempting to get information out of a few locals and Kon had promised not to get in the way. he didn't, however, promise that he wouldn't wander off to dance with some random. the moment that the guy he had been dancing with got a little handsy he knew that it was over. even without super hearing he could feel Dean stalking across the bar.

as much as he still would have loved to see all of Dean's threats of violence come true, there was one that actually came to fruition. the promise to remind him exactly who he belonged to. he had been herded into a stall and given no time to prepare himself. the back of his head thumping against the partition with the ferocity of the kiss that followed. while distracted Kon almost misses the way that Dean's fingers make short work of opening his jeans, his hand forcing its way under them to grip him almost too tightly. the noise that leaves him only seems to spur Dean on and amuse him to no end.

“Shhhh. You don’t want us to get caught, do you? or maybe you do, huh? lettin' someone else touch what's mine." a breathy laugh leaves him, near hysterical as the grip on his cock tightens slightly, making his head spin just that little bit more. Dean's unoccupied hand moved from the partition where it had been holding his weight to curl around his throat; middle finger and thumb pressing into the space just below his ears. clearly the hunter was pulling out all the stops to remind him exactly why they were together. to remind him that no one else was allowed to touch him.

somewhere in the back of his mind Kon is more than aware that the stall door wasn't locked. that not only could anyone enter the bathroom and hear him, that anyone could open that stall door and see him in all his cock whore glory. there's no real way for him to respond to Dean. and he knows that the hunter doesn't actually want him to say anything. they were all rhetorical questions. Kon knew that there was a part of Dean that also wanted to get caught. that he would brag to anyone who listened about the power that he held to have Kon begging for even the smallest touch.

"now... you're gonna to get on your knees and you're gonna to apologize for lettin' that prick touch you. ain't that right, baby boy?"

the grip on his throat is suddenly gone, the blood rushing back to his brain and making him deliciously dizzy. a rough breath is dragged in before he swallows hard. unfocused blue meeting determined green. it takes a moment before Kon can pull himself together enough to even consider answering the other. "yes, daddy..." he breathes out before dropping to his knees without a thought. spine pressed against the rapidly warming metal behind him as he tugs Dean's jeans open and pull him free from his boxers. there's little fanfare before the super is swallowing him down to the root, nose pressed tightly against the flesh between the hunter's hips.

Kon has no idea how much time has passed bobbing between the metal and the flesh of Dean's hips. fingers curled around the bottom of the partition and threatening to bend the thin metal under them. blue flick up to look at the hunter stood over him, leaning back against the wall and leaving his jaw slack. there's nothing needed to be said before Dean's hips pick up a punishing pace knowing that the super can handle it. the tears that gather along thick lashes are mostly performative, nothing about the act caused him pain or even discomfort if he was being honest.

his mind is blissfully void of all things that weren't the hunter currently fucking his throat. Kon can tell that Dean was close, his rhythm stuttering and jerking out of time as he chased his own pleasure, little care spared for Kon's. soon enough the super's eyes are crossing as he's pinned against the partition, the hunter's cock pulsing as he cums directly down his throat. should anyone peak under the stall door they'd witness Kon's own cock pathetically coat the floor in thick ropes of cum completely untouched.

"such a good little glory hole." the comment washes the super in heat once more. knowing that this was only the beginning of his reminder who he belonged to. "up. put my cock away until we're back in the car, we're going back to the motel and you're gonna keep it nice'n warm the whole way. ain't that right, baby?"

"yes daddy..."

[monstermoviedean]

#this is why I'm always so baffled when people talk about Dean being ✨so mean✨ to Cas in Clip Show ''for no reason 😔'' #like we can talk all we want about learning to talk through interpersonal problems in a calm rational manner #but the last interaction Dean had with Cas was.... THIS #Cas beat the shit out of him ignored his love confession (and I do think Dean's memory is shaky here and he isn't totally sure #what he said out loud vs what he just thought REALLY REALLY LOUDLY) told him he was a threat and DIPPED IMMEDIATELY #w/almost no explanation given beyond ''well I was mind controlled and now I'm not and I don't know how but also I don't trust you BYEEEEE'' #jfc I would be furious and upset and not really inclined to be rational or polite either #and then Cas rocks up and pretends like none of that even happened??? #(which. Cas fully doesn't understand that from Dean's pov a big component of their last interaction was confessing and getting rejected) #(of course he's not gonna acknowledge it bc he doesn't know there's anything like that to acknowledge) #but point is Dean got beat up rejected and ghosted last time they talked #of course he's mad and pushing Cas away literally who wouldn't in his position #but of course all this requires that we acknowledge that Dean is a self-aware rational adult who knows how he feels about Cas #and since we still live in the era of people insisting that Dean is so repressed and in denial he still thinks he's straight post-canon #obviously many MANY people are going to look at Dean lashing out in Clip Show and go ''what does he have to be mad about?'' #(which. oof. even if he WAS in denial emotions don't just go away just bc you don't understand where they're coming from lol??) #anyway point is ppl will have this preconceived notion of Repression Boy Dean and then when Dean reacts like someone #who is fully aware of his feelings for Cas and is very understandably hurt by Cas's actions in light of those feelings #you get people acting like his reaction ''makes no sense'' #no it makes perfect sense he's reacting like someone who just got his heart ripped out because. shocker. HE JUST GOT HIS HEART RIPPED OUT #and now the guy who did the ripping is trying to (as far as he can tell) brush past it like it didn't happen #and to be clear this miscommunication is not Cas's fault either!!! #Cas didn't handle the situation great at all #(he fell into his constant fatal flaw of insisting on handling everything without support and inadvertently hurt Dean in the process) #but he doesn't understand what the crypt scene looked like from Dean's perspective and doesn't understand what Dean was communicating #and that's not his fault! neither of them has done anything ''wrong'' here! #they just aren't understanding each other and it's a damn tragedy!! #spn

@ilarual thank you for blessing us with these tags!!! as always you are so right and thank you for pointing all this out because yeah, yeah, exactly. i'm not saying dean should have been angry (or angrier) but i think if he had been it would have been completely understandable! he's not repressed he's not in denial he understands his feelings extremely well! i truly believe that one of dean's biggest problems is that he feels things so deeply, and he's always aware of his feelings to a degree that makes him extremely self-conscious and frustrated. because he isn't supposed to have feelings at all, let alone the feelings he has like love and care and concern! so he's been ruminating over this specific one for months and then when he finally says it he gets ditched? that's a deep wound.

and even if he didn't have all his very real abandonment issues (and especially abandonment issues with cas specifically) he would still be valid in being upset! if you take everything out of context, remove the romantic implications, ignore dean's issues, and strip it down to "i told my best friend i needed him and he didn't acknowledge it and then he left" that's still a VERY normal thing to be upset about. i would be upset about that if that happened to me. dean's reaction is pretty mild honestly...if literally anyone except cas had done that, he'd probably never speak to them again. but because it's cas he forgives him immediately, even though he's still upset and acts like it.

and like you said this isn't about fault or blame or wrongness! they both are entirely justified in reacting the way they do and they have very good reasons for acting and feeling in certain ways! i am sick to death of "evil repressed dean is mean to poor innocent cas who's never done anything wrong" for so many reasons but especially because it's always seeking to place blame, to assign a winner and a loser/victim. when this is about two people who love each other so deeply and profoundly that they don't know how to handle it, but they still choose each other and choose to do the best they can for each other. and sometimes they make mistakes. and sometimes they hurt each other. that's how relationships work. what's incredible is that after these instances of big hurt, they always forgive each other and they always return to each other to try to move forward. because ultimately they just want to be around each other.

dean can't even stay mad at cas...from dean's perspective cas (while under some degree of mind control but dean isn't sure how much): cuts him out, ignores his prayers, lies to him, leads him into a trap, beats the shit out of him, ignores his love confession, calls dean a threat, and abandons him. and dean forgives him for all of it. he doesn't even care. he just wants cas back.

[myloversgone]

Let Me Change Your Mind

Pairing: Dean x Y/N; Dean x You; Dean x female!reader

Warnings: +18. Lots of sex. Unprotected sex (be smart, this is fiction); P in V; oral sex (male and female receiving). Dirty talk. Dean being the hottest motherfucker on Earth (this is a real warning). Pure filth. There’s barely a plot, I really should be ashamed of myself. 

Summary: Dean thinks shower sex is complicated and dangerous. Can you change his mind about it? 

This takes place during season 8, around the time the Winchesters found the MoL bunker, but it doesn’t exactly follow the show’s storyline.

A/N: This is my entry for the lovely @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone ​ Make-Me-Horny challenge. I hope I was able to accomplish that 😁 Unfortunately, tumblr is stupid and I can’t post the hot AF gif she sent me to inspire this fic, unless I wanna be flagged, so if you want to see it, just send me a message and I’ll send it to you. I did my best to describe it, though (the description is highlighted in the story). 

I wanted to post this work sooner, but life has been kicking my ass lately and, to make it worse, I’ve been sick for the last two days.🤢 So, please, if this sucks too much, you can blame my stomach bug.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is highly appreciated! Thanks for reading!

"Come on, Dean, you said we could try anything."

"I know what I said, sweetheart, but shower sex is complicated."

"Well, apparently I'm gonna have to take your word for it, 'cause it doesn't seem like I'll be trying it any time soon!"

You were really pissed off. For the last 30 minutes, you've been trying to convince Dean to have sex with you in the shower. But, to your surprise, he vehemently stated he didn't want to, saying it was complicated and even dangerous.

Since your boyfriend found out how boring your sex life was before him, you both agreed you should try some different things every once in a while. Dean had already shown you so many good - and very, very naughty - things you didn't even know existed, so you thought his idea was great.

Lately, you’ve been wanting to try shower sex, and you were adamant about convincing him to do it.

"Baby, don't be mad", Dean pleaded when you got up from his lap and turned your back to him, ready to leave the small motel room where you found yourselves in while working on a case. 

"I'm not mad. Just frustrated", you explained, pouting and turning to look at him. "I've been picturing us doing it and I think it would be great". You bit your lower lip, looking up at Dean from under your lashes, knowing very well how much it drove him crazy. He couldn't deny you anything when you made that face.

"Y/N", he said your name as a warning. "We can't do it here or in any other motel we’ve ever been to. It's too dangerous, believe me. Those tiles are slippery and there's nowhere to hold, one of us will end up hurt, maybe both of us". Dean explained, walking to you and placing his hands on each side of your waist, bringing your body close to his.

"But", you tried again "we’ve already showered together more than once, and we never got hurt". You knew you were whining like a child and being a pain in the ass, but shower sex has been your most recent fantasy. You wanted it badly.

And you were telling the truth. You and Dean had showered together many times, and what sometimes started as just an innocent shower after a particularly gruesome hunt, always ended up in heavy make out sessions, but it never got to the “main attraction” because of Dean’s caution, which was part of the reason you wanted it so much. Plus, just the thought of holding onto his massive shoulders, his skin glistening with the drops of water while he thoroughly fucks you under the shower, is enough to make your lady parts clench.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll find a place safe enough so we don’t end up with a broken leg”, Dean winked at you, pulling you back from your daydream and kissing you, one of his hands travelling from your waist to your ass, squeezing a buttcheek. 

You kissed him back, your tongue invading his mouth to taste him. “I hope you’re right. Plus, it’s your loss, you know. Sam said he’s gonna be out for at least two hours until he can find the witness. We could use the time to have fun”, you bit his lower lip, using your tongue to soothe the bite while pressing your crotch against Dean’s body.

“You’re a naughty girl, teasing me like that”. It was his turn to kiss you, sucking on your upper lip. Holding the back of your head, he pulled you closer, owning you, making you gasp. It was his promise you wouldn’t have to wait until you could find a “safe shower” to have great sex.

 —--------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later

“I think we’ve found the Bat Cave”, said Dean while looking at the thousands of books available in the Men of Letters’ bunker library. 

None of you would’ve guessed the place would be so intact when Henry Winchester told you about the bunker. Still, it was surprisingly inhabitable. In fact, it had everything you needed.

The three of you started to look around and, as Sam and Dean opened doors, switching the lights on and getting increasingly impressed with the place, you went to the kitchen, quickly assessing the room and thinking you’ve finally found a place where you could cook a decent meal for a change.

Proceeding to explore the other rooms, you passed through the bedroom Dean chose to be yours and his and continued down the hall. Opening the last door to your left, you felt like your jaw had hit the floor.

You found yourself in a huge bathroom. It had black and white tiles covering the walls, two sinks with large mirrors right above them, a bathtub, and, the most important thing: two shower spaces with benches attached to the walls. Big benches that could definitely fit two people sitting side by side and even a person lying down comfortably. You couldn’t believe your luck.

“Dean, get your ass over here! I wanna show you something!”, you yelled from the door, practically jumping in excitement. 

You heard Dean’s footsteps quickly approaching. “What’s up, sweetheart?” He stopped beside you, voice dying and eyes widening when he realized what he was looking at.

“I guess we’ll have to test the hot water, huh? See if it lasts as long as we need it to”, you grinned, patting Dean’s chest and leaving him open mouthed.

Sadly, as the events unfolded, new hunts stopped you and Dean from enjoying the bunker, its bathroom especially.

A week later, your boyfriend finally returned from a hunt he and his brother went to. On their way home, Sam took a detour and went to help Garth, which meant you and Dean were alone, with the bunker all to yourselves.

“Hey, sweetheart”, Dean called from the top of the stairs, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, baby. How was the hunt?”, you put aside the book you were reading to go meet him in the middle of the room, standing on your tiptoes to give him a welcome kiss.

“It was ok, a simple salt and burn, but we had to dig like three graves. I need a shower ASAP. How about you join me?”, Dean offered, giving you a naughty smirk.

You felt your stomach tighten in excitement. Finally. You’ve been away from Dean for too long, you missed him already. “Sure.You can go ahead and I’ll be with you in a minute”. You kissed him again, quickly nibbling his lower lip. Dean went in the direction of the hallway while you put the books back on their shelves and proceeded to your bedroom, where you undressed completely and wrapped yourself in your boyfriend’s Dead Guy Robe. You ran your hands through your hair, tidying the strands. You knew Dean wouldn’t mind if it was a mess, but you wanted to be pretty for him. After all, you promised to change his mind about shower sex, and you intended to do just that.

As you left the bedroom and approached the bathroom door, you could hear the shower running. Your heart started to beat faster. It didn’t matter that you’ve been dating Dean for almost a year; you still got excited with the perspective of having sex with him. He always took good care of you, always put your needs first. He truly is amazing.

You opened the door to find Dean in the first shower stall. His back was turned to you and his arms were up; he was washing his hair. You closed the door and stopped for a moment to admire him. His arms were bulging with the movement he was making to spread the shampoo on his hair. Even from a distance, you could see the muscles on his back move under his flawless, freckled skin. Your gaze went down his spine, focusing on the dimples on his lower back and then on his ass. His perfect, muscled, rounded ass. It was one of those moments when you could barely believe a man as beautiful as Dean could even exist.

Already feeling your pelvic muscles clenching, you called his name, since he didn’t seem to notice your arrival. “Hey, Dean”.

He turned around to look at you. You couldn’t help but stare between his strong legs, seeing his cock semi erect, his substantial size catching your attention. Dean’s body reacted quickly to you, it always did, which was very flattering and just one more reason for you to be head over heels for him.

“Hi, baby girl. Is that my robe?”, he asked, his gaze taking in your entire body.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m taking it off now”, you explained while doing just that, exposing yourself completely to him.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous”, Dean bit his lower lip, his eyes fixed on you as you approached the stall, putting a little swing on your hips just to keep your boyfriend interested.

Standing under the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you as you placed your arms around Dean’s neck and touched his body with yours. You felt your nipples harden as they touched his skin. He leaned down to kiss you sensuously, his lips parting yours as his tongue entered your mouth. Holding you close, one of his hands was supporting your lower back as the other ran up from your hip to the side of your breast, caressing the delicate skin.

Reaching between your bodies, you closed your hand around his cock. The contact was enough to make it fully erect for you, and Dean groaned, his face buried in your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. When he removed his hand from your breast and started to run it down your body, reaching the folds between your legs, you let go of him, making him stop.

"Today is about you, baby. Just sit down and relax", you told Dean while pushing him to sit on the bench attached to the shower wall.

He kept looking at you, admiring your body as he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bench. He sat and you kneeled in front of him, between his muscular bowed legs.

"Whatcha gonna do, huh, baby girl?", he asked, voice deep with lust.

You took him in your hand again, massaging his length up and down and watching the wide tip get redder, precum already leaking from it.

Looking at Dean from under your lashes, you leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock, making him hiss with the warm feeling of your lips. Then you hollowed your cheeks and did your best to take him inside your mouth. He was too big, so taking ⅔ of him was all you could do. His length was already down your throat, and you swallowed around him as much as you could. He moaned loudly, leaning his head against the wall behind him and reaching for your wet hair.

"Fuck Y/N, you look so good with my cock in your mouth", he praised while you sucked and bobbed your head up and down, letting him hit the back of your throat every time. You hummed, sending shocks of pleasure through his member. You grabbed his thighs to steady yourself, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

You kept sucking and ended up letting him fuck your mouth, holding your hair in a ponytail and guiding you, until he told you he couldn't take it anymore. "I wanna come in your pussy, baby girl, come here. Sit on my lap".

Giving one last wet kiss on the slit of his beautiful cock, you gladly got up. Your knees were starting to hurt.

Grabbing his thick length covered with your spit, you positioned it in your entrance, spreading your legs to take him easier. You were very wet, not only from the water, but because sucking Dean's dick turned you on every time. Rubbing the head on your folds, you took him inside you, lowering yourself on his cock, feeling every delicious inch penetrating you.

"Oh, God, Dean", you whined when you finally took all of him, his pubic hair tickling you. Dean looked down to where you were joined, finding it hot to watch his cock being completely swallowed by your pussy.

You started lifting your hips, bouncing up and down on his lap, the back of your thighs hitting the front of his with a slapping sound increased by the water pouring over both of your bodies. You held onto the nape of his neck, your mouth forming an O with how deep he was hitting you. 

Placing both palms into each side of his body for leverage, Dean started to lift his hips from the bench, meeting you halfway. The movement enhanced the muscles of his arms, his biceps bulging. He couldn't take his eyes off of your face, entranced by the absolute pleasure on your features. You weren't able to form words, knowing soon you would be tired of bouncing like that, but enjoying it immensely. It didn't bother you to be making most of the effort this time; Dean was always the one to do everything his powerful body allowed him to bring you pleasure. Now, it was your turn.

"Is that good, baby?", you asked him, panting. 

"God, yes. You're perfect, Y/N", he grinned, tilting his head up to kiss you. His warm tongue slipped inside your open mouth, tasting you and deepening the kiss. You moaned with the feeling and Dean gave a particularly hard thrust, hitting just the right place.

"F-fuck, Dean", you lost your rhythm, feeling your legs getting tired with the up and down movement, so you fully sat on his lap, stopping for a while.

With Dean buried inside you to the root, you started grinding on his lap without moving up, just using your hips and the muscles on your lower belly to squeeze him, keeping him as deep as you could.

“Jesus, fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing around me”. Dean had to close his eyes; he was afraid he was gonna come before you if he kept looking at your beautiful body, at the movements of your hips, your tits bouncing as you rode him. “Keep riding me, sweetheart. I love when you do that”, he pleaded, gritting his teeth to keep control.

“You’re so deep inside me, Dean. I’m gonna come with you there, ok, honey? You’re just in the right place”. You knew Dean loved when you were vocal during sex, being it dirty talk or not. He was always amazing, knowing exactly where to touch you and sometimes knowing your body better than yourself, so you didn’t have to guide him through what made you feel good. Still, since you started dating, he freed you of your inhibitions, encouraging you to be as loud and talkative as you wanted.

“Yeah, come for me, baby. Come on my cock, c’mon”. He pulled you closer, kissing and biting your shoulder, which was enough to turn you into mush. You came hard, the pleasure scattering through your body as a fire while you moaned and called Dean’s name like a pornstar. Except you weren’t faking it.

The noises you were making and the sight of your body shaking in pleasure did it for Dean. He came too, hot and hard, throbbing inside you as you felt him filling you with his seed. Breathing hard, you two remained enlaced, your legs and arms wrapped around Dean’s body as you kissed, enjoying the aftershocks of your orgasms.

A few minutes later, when your breathing returned to normal, you leaned away from Dean, intending to move, but he seemed to have a different plan.

"You hard again?", you asked in awe. You could feel him hardening and lengthening inside you, your slick walls once more stretching to accommodate him.

Dean didn’t even bother answering. He just held your legs firmly and got up, turning around so your back was against the wall and he could start thrusting. "Gonna make you cum again, baby girl", he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking while you held on to him, his biceps slippery from the water. 

A dozen thrusts later, he throbbed inside you, burying himself deep and definitely leaving bruises on your hips where he held you. You would wear his marks proudly. Dean's cum filled you once more, and he pulled his cock off of you to gently lay you on the bench, holding your spread legs and using his thumb and index finger to open you and watch his seed leaking out of you.

"Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot", he said, kissing your still sensitive pussy and then sucking your clit, making you whimper. You were 100% sure you would be soaked in sweat if it weren't for the shower. You felt hot all over, your body tingling and still recovering from your last orgasm. 

“Gosh, Dean, that’s so fucking good”, you praised breathlessly. Your hand reached for his head and you used your nails to scratch his scalp, giving him the perfect opportunity to bury his tongue inside you, making you arch your back and moan loud. 

He felt amazing, soothing the soreness between your legs while guiding you through your third orgasm. You obviously didn’t last long, and Dean cleaned you of your juices, drinking every drop you had to give.

You were so spent you didn’t feel like moving. Getting up, Dean kissed you, long and passionately. With your eyes closed, you heard him turning the shower off and opening the towel closet. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed”. He wrapped you in a big towel and carried you, bridal style, to your bedroom, where he dried your hair and dressed you back in his robe.

You felt tired in the best way, laying on your side on the big bed, facing your hot boyfriend. “Dean, that was so amazing. Thank you”, you said, pulling his face towards yours to give him a quick kiss.

He chuckled, kissing you back. “I think I should be the one thanking you, Y/N/N. You really did change my mind”.

“Yeah? What do you think about shower sex now?”, you asked, teasing him.

“I think it’s awesome!”.

THE END

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If you came this far, thank you for sticking up with me! I don’t have a tag list yet, but I’m gonna tag some lovely people who always support me with their likes, reblogs and comments. Please, if you don’t want to be tagged on future posts, just let me know, no worries! Or, if you weren’t tagged but want to be, you can message me too 😉

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior , @avanatural, @charred-angelwings, @itsthemegacoven , @eevvvaa , @ejlovespie

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

The Girl Can Bite Too, You Know - Part 2

Dean Winchester x (Female) Reader

Summary: While trying to keep your business afloat, you get caught in the crossfire of a Winchester hunt and have no choice but to get involved. Much to Dean's enjoyment, you're a feisty one with no intention of letting the monsters get the better of you. Thus starts a whole new opportunity for adventure.

A/N: Okay so I know this is short, but I've started figuring out where I'm gonna take this story and this is just gonna be like setting the scene. Also, POV will stop changing after this I swear.

Warnings: Show themed violence and thats about it for this part

Word count: 1,373

| Part 1 |

As much as you'd wanted to get to bed, you couldn't help but be pleased when the two men in black suits walked into the bar. You knew it was only a matter of time before the guys came back, probably with reinforcements, and it was embarrassingly comforting to know you had some muscle as back up now. Especially since they were clearly after the same group of idiots.

"Y/N, I think you should close up here for the night. If it's alright with you, my partner and I are just going to wait out front, see if they turn up." The taller of the pair cleared his throat, his hand instantly reaching behind him round his waistband. The other one, shorter than his partner (albeit still a header taller than you) did the same action. Okay, so they had guns. That was reasurring, at least.

You didn't even have time to persist before an almighty crash rocked the building and glass shattered everywhere. Things seemed to move in slow motion. The short-haired agent didn't even look behind him as he leapt across the bar and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down and covering your head. You heard two shots, before the taller one was crouching on your other side. Your ears ringing, you squeezed your eyes shut and clamped your hands over your head, folding into a ball.

Nothing happened. The men froze, guns poised above you. "Y/N, you should go." Neither looked at you as the taller one spoke. You didn't need to reply either, nodding as you pushed yourself off the ground and scampered to the back of the room, through the staff door and up to your little bedroom, locking the door behind you. You shook in the darkness, adrenaline pumping. Stupid men. Why did they always have to get so violent?

You moved straight to the wardrobe, chucking clothes out onto the floor as you searched for the second gun you kept. This one was much smaller - your Dad's old revolver he always carried, but never once used. Fingers trembling, you checked it was loaded and stood back against the wall, facing the door.

Except of course, he didn't come from the door. He came through the window on your right, glass smashing once again as his huge body tumbled towards you. You screamed, leaping back and firing. The first shot missed, but the second landed in his shoulder as he stood, towering over you. In the darkness you couldn't make out a face, but the way he grunted gave away that he was the bigger of the men from earlier, the one you'd broken the glass over the head of.

The shot didn't stop him and he moved towards you with force. Pinned against the wall, you fired again and again, each bullet making him grunt and stagger back, but failing to knock him off his feet. Shit. This was it. You were going to die.

"Over here, you bastard!" The gruff voice of the short-haired agent came from the door, and you turned your head to see him and his partner poised, firing their own guns at the man. They each held a torch, and as you glanced back at the figure before you, you gasped. The light now illuminating him revealed something far more animal-like than you expected, with hair sprouting across his body and claws lashing out as he fell to the ground with a cry.

You dropped to the floor gasping for air, unable to take your eyes off what lay before you. You vaguely recognised the FBI agents running to your side, lending you a hand as they pulled you up.

"Hey, you alright? He didn't scratch you did he?" The short-haired one queried. You shook your head and gulped.

"I-I'm gonna need some of those bullets. Mine didn't even make a dent."

The men paused, before the tall one let out a nervous breath and the other, still with his hand round you, laughed. "Yeah, well they're special bullets. Guys like that won't be effected by normal ones." You glanced up to notice the men exchanging amused glances with one another just before you heard the thudding of footsteps up the stairs. Rapidly the men blocked you, ready for action again. The door had hardly opened before shots were fired in that direction, sending the rest of the men to the floor with a tremendous crash. After what felt like years, you opened your eyes again, daring to take a peak round the agent's shoulders to look at the hairy scene before you.

-

"Sam, you take her and get her cleaned up. I'll deal with the bodies," Dean said under his breath, motioning for Sam to usher Y/N away.

"Woah woah woah, hold up a second. Either of you fancy explaining what the hell just went down in my bar?" Dean turned to see she had planted her feet where they were, eyes darting from brother to brother. They in turn glanced at each other, realising there wasn't much they could do to try explain the situation normally.

"Those men - they weren't just men, Y/N. They were, erm, they were werewolves. Young ones, who were pretty pissed off at you." Sam tried to give Y/N a soft smile, praying she wasn't about to freak out. "We're not actually FBI. We lied." He searched for a reaction, expecting Y/N to break into a spiel of disbelief.

Instead, he was met by rolling eyes. "No shit, Sherlock," you grumbled, folding your arms. "Agents Slovak and Kiedis? I'm not an idiot, and last time I checked you two weren't part of the best band to come out of 1980s."

Dean chuckled. He liked this one. She'd just been attacked in her own home, witnessed a bunch of guys get shot, and her only expression was sheer annoyance.

"You're right. I'm Dean, this here is my brother Sam. And that bunch? They're werewolves." Dean tried to ignore the death stare he felt Sam give him.

"Explains the hair," Y/N mumbled. "How come my gun didn't work?"

"Silver's the only thing that'll get em. You're a good shot, though."

Y/N shrugged the compliment off, frowning. "So, you gonna get the bodies out of my bedroom or am I gonna have to do it?"

"Right," Sam nodded, shuffling over to heave the hunk of a man bundled by your feet.

"Hows the head?" Dean questioned, reaching down you push your hair away from your forehead.

"Oh, it's fine, thanks," you batted him off, embarrassed at having caught his eyes. Damn, they were the greenest things you'd ever seen. "I'm sure it's just a scratch. Doesn't even hurt really." He nodded uncertainty, before responding to the grunt of attention directed towards him by his brother.

-

Two hours later, you were freshly showered, with a nice tidy bar, and five dead werewolves buried behind the back shrubbery. You offered the brothers a drink before they left, but much to your disappointment the tall one, Sam, graciously refused, claiming they had a long drive ahead of them. You couldn't help but notice that Dean seemed disappointed too, but he passively agreed with his brother. Now all the drama had calmed down, it was obvious to see the relation. Only siblings could radiate that sort of energy where they were constantly annoyed by one another, but clearly incredibly defensive and protective at the same time.

They each gave you a hug before wishing you well, and you stood at the window and watched them as they skidded out the parking lot in the ebony Impala. It was a while before you moved again, slowly making your way up to your room. Sliding into bed, you couldn't help but turn the picture frame of you and your Dad smiling together away from you. He was such a soft and caring man; you were ashamed at the way you were feeling at that moment. You knew you should be craving his comfort after such a scary experience, but you weren't. Truth be told, you were elated. For the first time in a long time, you felt alive. And that scared the shit out of you.

| Part 3 |

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 2

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2075

Additional note: In Norway, you are of age at 18.

Enjoy 🙂

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"... don't start eating until your brother joins us."

As he pushes himself down the large hallway leading to the kitchen, Ivar can hear Lagertha's assertive voice. He knows exactly who she's talking to and his suspicions are confirmed as soon as he enters the room, as a very displeased and apparently famished Hvitserk looks at him with irritation before letting out a muffled, "it's 'bout time."

"Sorry, I must have dozed off." Shrugging, Ivar wheels up to the kitchen table, the smell of pizza tickling his nostrils. He must be hungrier than he thought.

"You look like Hel." Sigurd sneers in greeting.

Ivar, without bothering to look up, just tilts his head and hisses through clenched teeth, "coming from you, dear brother, I take that as a compliment."

He can feel Lagertha's gaze upon him and when he turns his head toward her, she is staring at him, the worry obvious in her eyes.

"I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that but Sigurd isn't wrong." She crosses the room and leans over, her brow furrowed. "You look exhausted, sweetie, what's going on?"

Ivar almost wants to laugh. He looks exhausted? No kidding? Yeah, guess what? That's what two sleepless nights in a row usually do to you. At least that's what they did to him. What you did to him, haunting his nights and even haunting his dreams, waking him up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the few times he managed to fall asleep. At least, he'd made up his mind early this morning. Hopefully, now that the decision has been made, he'll sleep better. Saturday night, he'll see you again. His heart is racing at the thought and he inhales deeply, trying to calm down.

Unsurprisingly persistent, Lagertha asks again as she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Ivar, are you all right?"

He wishes he could just ignore his stepmom but knows she won't let it rest. Unwilling to admit that he owes his restless nights to a girl - to you - he decides to keep his answer vague. "So-so," he mumbles, slightly rocking his right hand.

"You're in pain? Do you need more meds? I could run to the drugstore really quick."

For once, he doesn't resent Ubbe for his well-meant yet patronizing kindness, nor for the pitying look he gives him. Actually, he silently thanks him for the good diversion. As long as his brothers and Lagertha believe that it's his legs that bother him, keeping him awake, his secret - you - will be safe.

Faking a small, sheepish smile, Ivar shakes his head. "Thanks bro, but that's okay, I have everything I need. Guess I should just double-up the tramadol tonight." He winces for good measure, knowing fully well he won't even need a single dose. The pain in his legs today is barely at four, nothing he can't handle.

Once the meal is almost over – which in plain English means that everyone but Hvitserk has finished eating, but thanks to Lagertha principle 'no one leaves the table until everyone has finished, boys', they're all stuck here – Ivar decides it's time to break the news.

"I'm gonna go to the party."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the kitchen falls quiet. Even Hvitserk stops chewing, putting his last slice of pizza back on his plate.

Not knowing what to do with the silence, and feeling a little awkward, Ivar explains further, a hand on his neck, "the midsummer party, I mean. Harald's party."

"We heard you just fine, sweetie." Lagertha is the first to pull herself together, even though the disbelief is clear in her voice. As Ivar looks up, his brothers are staring at him, slack-jawed, bewildered, probably wondering what's got into their baby brother.

"Let me get this straight." With widened eyes, Ubbe starts running both hands through his hair, "you are considering attending Harald's party, right? That's... That's what you said?"

"Yep." Ivar shrugs as if it was no big deal. Who is he kidding? Of course, it is! Attending the party is a fucking huge deal for him. There's no way in Hel he'll admit it, though. Not in front of his brothers. No fucking way!

"I'm not sure I understand..." Ubbe sounds cautious and it infuriates Ivar to no end.

"What part of 'I'm gonna go to the party' don't you get, brother? Huh? Too many big words for you?" He wants to keep going but when Lagertha clears her throat and gives him a stern look, he faintly raises an apologetic hand while muttering under his breath, "okay, okay, I'll stop."

Heaving a sigh, he shrugs once more. "Seriously, you don't all have to look so surprised. I just want to go to Harald's party. It's really not that big of a deal."

"But you never wanted to, sweetie. Why now?" Lagertha's eyes are wide open and there's a frown on her forehead as she crosses her arms.

"Why not?" Ivar can't help but raise his voice. "I'm sixteen, Lagertha! Thought I was entitled to a change of heart. Was I wrong?" Pointing a finger successively at each of his brothers, his free hand grabs his push rim, his knuckles white. "The three of you attend every year, why shouldn't I?" Looking directly at Lagetha once again, he asks in a clipped voice, "You're not going to tell me I can't go, are you?"

"Of course not, sweet–" She begins but Ubbe cuts her off.

"Listen Ivar, no one is saying you shouldn't go, not yet at least. As a matter of fact, no one would be more pleased than I if you were willing to go out more. Playing pool, going to the movies, or just having drinks, you know you're always welcome to come along with us. But..." Ubbe groans, rubbing his hands over his face and Ivar stiffens, grinding his teeth, "Harald's party, really? It's not going to work. You know it takes place on the beach, it's not exactly wheelchair-friendly."

Reluctantly taking his eyes off his slice of pizza, Hvitserk jumps in. "Ivar is our brother, if he wants to go, we find a way. That's it - I'll carry him."

Positively surprised, a small smile playing on his lips, Ivar thanks his brother with a nod, glad – and relieved too, because two are always better than one, right? – that Hvitserk, as so often, backs him up. Of all his brothers, he's the only one who sees him first as a sixteen-year-old and not as a cripple.

Ubbe is having none of it though. "Hvitserk, just stay out of this, okay?" He's practically shouting, chin up and chest out. "You don't have a say! I'm the oldest, not you! I don't think it's a good idea for Ivar to attend Harald's party, period."

Hvitserk furrows his brow and for a short moment, Ivar thinks his brother is going to fight back but eventually he lowers his gaze, defeated, before shoving the whole slice of pizza into his mouth. Ivar knows all too well that his brother, who's not the most tenacious of them, hates confrontation, especially with Ubbe.

Unlike him, Ivar is always ready to pick up a fight, even when it's not worth it, even when he is wrong. Today, though, it's definitely worth it.

His nostrils flaring, he smashes his fist down on the table, his face crumpled with anger. "Who do you think you are, Ubbe? You may be the oldest, but you're not my father, okay? So please, just do me a favor, brother, and read my lips." His voice dripping with sarcasm, his bottom lips quivering, Ivar is absolutely livid, "You. Don't. Have. A. Say. Period."

Ubbe is about to retort, his hands clenched into fists but Lagertha raises a hand, shutting him up. "Boys, boys, boys!" Glancing at Ubbe and then at Ivar, she shakes her head, not exactly thrilled with their outburst. "Now, calm down, both of you. Ubbe, Ivar is right. You may be his big brother, you may be an adult, but you're not his father. I know you mean well but as Ivar's guardian, I have the final say." Turning her head toward Ivar, she cracks him a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about this later, okay? Just the two of us."

***

Slamming the door shut, Ivar wheels up right next to his bed and, angling his chair just right, transfers over onto his bed before punching the wall, a roar escaping his lips. Big tears of frustration and anger run down his cheeks as Sigurd's words linger in his mind.

He had been surprised when his less-favorite brother had stayed out of the conversation.

He should have known better.

No sooner had Lagertha, Ubbe and Hvitserk left – she to make a phone call, they to join Margrethe – leaving them to tidy up the kitchen, than Sigurd had lashed out at him with harsh words and eyes full of spite.

"You messed up in the head, huh? It's a fucking beach, Ivar, you do realize your front wheels will get stuck in sand, right? Now tell me, little brother, do you really think we are going to carry your crippled ass around all night? Let me tell you, it's not going to happen! There will be so many better ways for us to spend the night. Girls, you know? Lots of them. Am I going to let you embarrass me and ruin my night? No! Not in a million years. And anyway, why do you even want to go? Get real, Ivar, you don't belong there, you just don't. You're a fucking cripple, a freak, an abnormality. No one wants you there. No one wants to see you. The sooner you accept it the better."

He knows Sigurd was intentionally trying to hurt him. And fuck, he did succeed. Ivar had felt so humiliated that it had brought bile to his throat.

At some point, while Sigurd was spitting his venom, Ivar had grabbed the large knife lying on the table and it took all his self-control not to stab his brother. No doubt his shrink would be proud of him.

Now though in his room, and even if he is boiling with anger, the nagging thought that Sigurd had a point, that he wasn't completely wrong, doesn't leave him. And he can see now that, in his own weird way, Ubbe was trying to protect him. By preventing him from going, his big brother wanted to spare him humiliation, pity, and mockery. Hvitserk, of course, had been willing to help, but let's face it, Sigurd once again was right. Piggy-back riding is not really an option anymore, he is too heavy. Plus, if he's being honest, even if it were still possible, it's the last thing he'd want. The mere thought of you seeing him on Ubbe's or Hvitserk's back makes him nauseous. Which puts him back to square one.

The beach is a problem and a huge one. Wheeling in sand is a no-go. It's just fucking impossible. If he doesn't come up with an idea soon, he's not going to be physically able to attend the party. And that's something he doesn't want to consider.

"I need a fucking genius idea!" He speaks out loud, cracking his knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck.

He just wants to see you. Y/N... Just you. And he won't be able to.

Fuck. Fucking sand! Fucking beach! Fucking legs! Fuck– Stop.

Wait.

What... What did he say?

He needs an idea... A genius idea. Genius. That's it.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Good thing he knows an authentic genius, right?

Grabbing his phone, he frantically slides his pointer finger on the screen, sighing with relief as he finds the contact he is looking for.

"Hello, Ivar," the man answers after two rings, and his voice brings an even bigger smile to Ivar's lips, "it's very sweet of you to call me."

"Hello to you too, you spindly legged, knock-kneed old fool. There might be something that you can do for me. I want to attend Harald's party. It'll take place on the beach. My brothers won't carry me and I can't really crawl about, can I? I wonder if you could help me, Floki?"

Ivar's godfather lets out a high-pitched chuckle before answering, "I'll figure something out, dear Ivar, I'll figure something out."

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927

[meatmandean]

i trust your opinion so i wanted to ask, what do you think the writers wanted to show about deans level of abuse/violence towards people and cas and sam? i feel like the amount of people that were writing on the show made it difficult to really have a straightforward approach to side ofhi character so we get (most) episodes where he is eventually "forgiven" for his actions and then sometimes they dig deep in his issues but the show still sides with him in the end? and the we got the final where they basically cemented sam and deans codependency as a symbol of brotherly love

I think that delving into Dean's anger issues was an inevitable thing, because while people like to pretend like it just came out of nowhere in Dabb's era, it most certainly did not. We've seen him have anger issues to the point of being scary since the start of the show. It was a fairly consistent thing. I think Dabb era's main problem is that they made it his PRIMARY issue, unlike before when he had a fun mix of all sorts of problems, one of them being his issues with anger and violence. A life full of violence leading to violent behavior isn't shocking, but I don't think they ever really dealt with it the way they should've. There was never truly a plotline where Dean ever really learned from his anger issues. They would mention it and have him feel bad about it at certain points, but then he would just do it again.

The thing is, I don't think the writers ever thought he was right when he acted violent. The show portrayed it as a flaw. He was in the wrong for how he treated Jack. He was in the wrong for how he treated Cas in s15. He was in the wrong (most of the time) for how he would lash out at Sam. The show didn't forgive him per se, they just never fully had him GROW from it. It was just treated as a character flaw we were supposed to recognize as one of the many flaws in a complex, damaged, traumatized character. Which... is kinda okay I guess but ultimately a weird choice for one of your show's main heroes. Especially if you're gonna take it to the point where he was borderline abusive to all your other main characters at some point of the show, most prominently in the last few seasons. I'm a known Dean Apologist and I know where he's coming from most of the time even if I disagree with his actions, but that doesn't mean that I think it was handled well. It felt like just another one of the many unfinished plotlines they started but never concluded at the end of the show.

[freakwiththeknifecollection]

i know spn talks a good deal about the winchester childhoods but,,,,, spare dean childhood headcanons??? or any faves??? 🥺

I knew all my emotional asks to you would catch up with me one day....... this is going to emotionally wreck me..... HERE WE GO

Disclaimer: since this ask is about Dean specifically, I'm only going to talk about Dean's childhood. This is not to say that Sam didn't also have an abusive childhood, he absolutely did.

- - - - - - - - TW: Abuse - - - - - - - - -

TO MY KNOWLEDGE there's no explicit canon age that Dean started hunting. We know he was like? 8-9? (I don't think it's ever said what year that was.) When he was supposed to be practicing with rifles but Bobby took him to the park and played catch with him instead. So sometime after that he started. I headcanon that he started at 10.

I've mentioned before that I headcanon that Dean was with John on that last hunt with William Harvelle.

Dean dropped out of high school at some point. I'm convinced John had at least some influence on the decision or it was his idea entirely. I read in a fic once that Dean always got bad grades, not for lack of trying, he tried really hard. But he was always helping his dad or taking care of Sam and he was asleep deprived and just plain never had the time to really give it the old college try. And John told him it was a waste of time. I really liked that tbh, I believe it.

EDIT: ACTUALLY WAIT A MINUTE. YEAH. THIS IS TOTALLY PLAUSIBLE BECAUSE IN 9x07 (Bad Boys) WHEN HE WAS AT THAT BOY'S HOME HE WAS DOING WELL IN SCHOOL!!

But!! BUT!!! Dean says later that he has a GED. And that just!!

At some point he decided he wanted to get his GED. And I just. The thought that at some point, 20-something (probably) Dean Winchester sat down and studied for a diploma that he doesn't even need. With him getting bad grades and people belittling his intelligence, I think he wanted to do it just to prove to himself that he could have if hunting and everything else hadn't gotten in the way.

Supernatural writers giving us nuggets of information from their childhood:

Me right now:

I headcanon that John, at least on two or three occasions, was physically abusive to Dean.

Some of you might read this and be like "YEAH!!" Right away, I don't even have to elaborate.

But I'm gonna.

Remember when Dean talked about when Sam left for Stanford

His FACE in the last two gifs.

That face? That was not the face of "Oh man, I got chewed out so bad." No. That is the face of trauma.

You add that with what Sam said (I think he was a kid??) that John is an angry drunk, and I think it's pretty clear that he got physical on at least a few occasions. Now do I think that he physically abused Sam? No. Dean would never let him. Also, from what we know, John tends to lash out at Dean when Sam upsets him so, if you ask me, Dean took the bullets for him.

There's also that scene in 9x07 (Bad Boys) where Sonny asks if his father gave him those bruises, @lunellumcas wrote a great post about this.

Looking at that scene I'm like

It's interesting that Dean would just outright say it was a werewolf. He could've said no, it wasn't his dad. He's a practiced liar, he could've come up with a believable lie. But instead he told Sonny, who doesn't yet know that monsters are real, that it was from a werewolf? Even if it was the truth, it sounds like a lie to Sonny. So why did he tell him that? To be a smartass? Maybe. Maybe the ridiculous lie was easier than the truth. Maybe he wanted it to seem like a lie, so he wouldn't have to say the truth out loud.

But that post I linked also raises another question. Why did he hesitate? Dean is quick on his feet, always has the next word locked and loaded, but he hesitated and averted eye contact at first. Why?

This was really long but to get back to my original point: I think John Winchester was abusive emotionally to both Sam and Dean and physically to Dean. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

It's mentioned that Dean had his first beer "before he hit double digits". I headcanon that at around age 12, after a really bad day when Sam had fallen asleep and John had knocked out after drowning his sorrows with whiskey, Dean stole a sip or two on impulse. He felt better. And the next morning, John hadn't even noticed. So the next time he takes a little more, maybe an ounce. By the time he's 13, he's just waiting for the circumstances to align again. When he's 14 and staying at Bobby's with Sam while John is out on a hunt somewhere, Dean gets caught taking a beer from the fridge. Bobby is less mad than he is concerned that at 14 Dean is semi-dependent on alcohol. He sits him down and has a long talk about it. Dean doesn't do it again for a long time, even though there are days where he really could've used it. But when he's 16, after that last hunt with William Harvelle,

(From 2x14, Born Under A Bad Sign, when Sam is possessed)

After they burned his remains, they return to the impala in silence. They're both a little shaken up, to say the least. As they're stowing their guns back in the trunk, dried blood still on their hands, John notices Dean's hands are shaking. He stops his son before he gets to the passenger side and grabs two beers from the cooler in the trunk, handing one to him. They both lean against the back bumper, still without uttering a word, until their bottles are empty. They never speak of it again.

He doesn't go back to sobriety after that.

[ao3gingerswag]

Grown up Sam (quieter, calmer, working a good job with lots of paperwork eg accounting or law - possibly still living at the inn but def frequently there, and still handy in a fight) realising he was a right git to Cas initially and panicking over what his life could have been deciding to apologise and make amends. Cue awkward speeches, making lots of tea, soup, and DIY, just for Cas to be very confused because for him it was never Sam fault and he's been grand for a decade.

ok 1 just to clarify sam is absolutely living in the inn 100% forever. this is MY asexual found family fantasy that doesn't subscribe to modern american housing norms and i do what i want!!!! sorry that came off weirdly aggressive i know u weren't arguing with that dtxgcfhvjbkn.

anyway!! i think cas and sam bond a LOT as time goes on <33 honestly i think this happens way earlier than being grown up. i think he slowly slowly comes to trust not only cas more and more but also that his current life isn't going to get ripped away all of a sudden, until without having noticed it happening, he is happy and comfortable and believes he's gonna stay that way ;~; and once that happens and once he NOTICES that, that he trusts cas and his situation, that's when he's like oh holy fuck. i think he's like...13? the first time he has a breakdown about it ;~; i think he trusts cas before that i dont think it takes like 3 full years!!! but i think that's the first time he has the perspective to be like ooooh my suspicion and behavior towards cas was absolutely Not Fair. like up until then he's like ok yeah cas is great and One Of The Good Ones but also i reacted Normally and Rationally when i met him because Everyone In The World Is Evil. When he's like 13 he starts to realize that is not true and he behaved like a lunatic and also he almost KILLED cas and where would he be then where would dean be they would have died in that forest and so would have cas who's a good person and he's like aaaahhbhdgiuuygfyuiuigwkdbckwgfuwgfkuytgfuywevfjhsvcsviwgikwgfyuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaahhhhHHHHH!!! DDDDDD: and cries a lot about it. and apologizes a lot about it to. and cas has to be like sammy its ok ;~; <3 i'm here and ur here and so is dean and it all worked out and it's not ur fault u were Insane and ugh and omg i can totally see sam being like but i tried to KILL you what if I HAD!!!! and vugjbhknjl cas literal and blunt as ever just being like well. then i would be dead. and so would u and dean almost certainly. and sam is like !! D:

but! cas is also very kind and reassuring and is like yes and that would be horrible but guess what? it still wouldnt be your fault. it would be a tragedy but it would still be john and alastair's fault for putting all of us in that situation and traumatizing u to the extent that u were that afraid of me. and and somehow i think that would be the most comforting thing to sam?? more than just being reassured that there's no point in thinking about it because it DIDN'T happen. i think he'd be more settled by the realization that even if everything had gone horribly wrong and they all died, even by his own hand! it would be something closer to a tragic accident borne of negligence on the part of the adults (like a toddler shooting another toddler with a gun that hadn't been locked up) instead of a murder. ;~; like not that i believe older children are totally not responsible for their actions at all, but sam's situation wasn't so much "i am in pain and don't know how to handle it so i am lashing out and taking it out on other people" but "i actively believe my own and my friend's lives are in danger and am reacting with the defensive actions of someone being hunted by a rabid wolf" (not realizing that the rabid wolf is just sweet awkward cas, because he's been so turned around by his upbringing ;~;)

anyway! anyway. I think this happens like. a bunch of times as he grows up. like nervous breakdowns about this, frantic apologies, and he only gets over it very slowly. i think a Really Big Breakdown about it happens when he's 16, when he realizes CAS was 16 during all of this, and holy fuck what was he thinking thinking cas was like a full grown adult and omg he was only SIXTEEN and went through ALL THAT CRAP, in large part because of what sam put him thru!!! and he flips out about that ;~; but!!!! i would like to think that by the time that he's an adult like in his early 20s, he is...mostly at peace with what happened, and what could have happened, and that it isn't his fault. maybe the guilt will never 100% go away, but he can live with it, and he's made his apologies to cas many many times already and had them accepted over and over. and in conclusion cas and sam are besties :))

[castielscarma]

Johnson

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176002

Dean took Cas' hand and grinned before kissing his knuckles. “It's Sunday. You know what that means?”

Cas smiled at Dean's cheerful display. “Usually it means a nice dinner and our weekly hike with Sam and Jack.”

Grumbling, Dean lowered Cas' hand. “It means funday.”

“Dinner and walking, isn't that fun?” Cas arched an eyebrow at Dean. “I was under the impression you enjoyed the time with Sam and Jack. Nature is one of the things Chuck did right– “

“We don't think about that asshole anymore.”

“Right. So what did you have in mind?”

Dean pointed a finger at Cas. “I was waiting for you to ask that question, Cas.” He grabbed a pamphlet from his back pocket. “Check this out. The museum has an angel exhibition.”

Cas licked his lip. “Oh, you were talking about that kind of funday.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. “Yeah, that kind of fun. So, is that a yes?”

“I don't know what to say... we have been frequenting that museum fairly often. While I do understand the allure of openly – “

Dean kissed Cas, a soft, innocent kiss. “Let's get a deeper understanding of the allure, Cas. Besides, it's an angel exhibition.” Dean stilled. “Oh, sorry, Cas. Man, it never crossed my mind. We can do this another time, another exhibition.”

Cas grabbed Dean's hand and kissed him back. “Dean, this has nothing to do with it being an angel exhibition. I made my choice freely and it's not a decision that haunts me.”

Dean nodded. “OK, I just wanted to – you know, I don't want to upset you.”

“You're not.”

Dean smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“Alright, then take me to the art museum and make out with me.”

Cas smiled his gummy smile. “Let's go.”

Dean groaned as he pulled into the parking lot. “An all-nighter. I can't believe you suggested that and that Sammy said yes. Why?”

Cas shrugged. “I think it was fair. Sunday is usually our hike day.”

“Yeah but all night? You know what that means?”

“Campfire and marshmallows. Maybe the moon will be out and we'll see the stars.”

“No, it'll mean mosquitoes and us trying to fall asleep while Sam snores like a bear knocked out with tranquilizers. And he'll insist on bringing weird camp food like dates and zucchini.”

Cas stepped out of the Impala. “I think you're exaggerating.”

Dean closed the door with a bang. “I'm not.”

“It'll be fun. And you and Jack can go fishing.”

Dean patted his pockets. “Fuck, I forgot my wallet. And it's cheating that you're trying to bribe me with fishing.”

Cas pointed at his pocket. “It's here. And is it a bribe? I'd consider it more of a promise.”

Dean laughed. “Let's go check out some angels.”

“Let's.”

~~~

Harry Johnson, the security guard at the Esbon museum was sitting in peace, eating a Milkyway when he almost choked on a piece. He blinked, looking at the couple, and sure enough, it was them, Trench coat and Bowlegs. He was not getting enough paid to deal with shit like this.

Sure, he shouldn't assume that they would do it again, but Harry was a practical man. He'd seen them twice before and both times they'd acted like idiots before fucking. One time in the west wing, and on time in the Nature room in what had then been turned into a bee exhibition. And no, it hadn't been explicit fucking, more hands he figured, but what he did remember was the damn jokes.

Who were these middle-aged men anyway, skulking around in museums making out? Didn't they have a Ford Fiesta they could desecrate?

Swallowing the last of his Milkyway, Harry grabbed his flashlight and went after Disaster Duo on Legs.

 ~~~

Dean stared at the angel statue in marble. It was kind of bizarre seeing the angel statue with no head or arms but he couldn't deny the craftsmanship. The tunic she was wearing cling to her body but it was the wings that caught Dean's attention. They arched behind her seemingly in triumph.

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“Can't believe this is stone. Look at the feathers, Cas – “ Dean stopped. “This isn't weird, is it?”

Cas chuckled slightly. “No, I'm fine, Dean. And my wings were more... impressive than this.”

Dean smiled warmly. “Not everyone can be the size of the Chrysler building.”

“No, they can't. But I do appreciate the artistry. Humans always depicted angels as beautiful, even in their wrath, and imagined them in their image. I do find that hopeful. Maybe mankind saw themselves as divine and then never questioned that angels wouldn't look like them. They never once thought that angels would be something less than them. We're – they – were hardly as noble and just as humans hoped them to be."

“Maybe not them, but you weren't so bad, Cas.” Dean elbowed him slightly.

Cas nodded, a small smile on his lips. “You don't know this, but I was known as the hottest angel in my garrison.”

Dean laughed. “I bet you were. You're hot as a human too.” He licked his lips. “So, you gonna make out with me?”

Cas tilted his head, amusement making his eyes shine. “I don't know if I'm allowed.”

Dean furrowed his brows. “Why the hell wouldn't you be allowed to kiss me?”

“You're not allowed to touch the masterpieces.”

Shaking his head, Dean splayed his hand on Cas' chest and pushed gently, forcing him to take several steps back. “You're the masterpiece, Cas.”

“Is that so?”

Dean nodded and pushed him again so Cas' back was against the wall. “Yeah, and someone's gotta nail the artwork to the wall.”

Cas grinned. “Are you that someone?”

Dean kissed Cas' jaw. “I do have a hammer.” He wrapped one arm around Cas' waist and pressed his groin against Cas as he grabbed Cas' hair and whispered, “This pounding requires a steady hand.” He moved his hand and squeezed against Cas' groin.

The sight of Cas closing his eyes, and how he breathed out slowly as not to alert anyone else of what they were up to was hot as hell.

Just then, Cas opened his eyes and bit his lower lip. He flashed Dean a smile as he looked at him through his lashes. A rush of arousal washed over Dean. “C–Cas I think we should maybe – Cas knew very well what he was doing to Dean and damn him but it worked.

“Go? But we just came here. Don't you want to... come before we go?”

Holy hell. They should go to museums more often, Dean thought.

 ~~~

There they were, plastered to each other like clay and straw behind the angel statue. Harry shook his head. At least he managed to get to them prehumping. The darker man, Trench coat dude was thankfully against the wall and not against the statue or any artwork but he did not like how Bowlegs was moving; soon they would be against that painting of the angel trying to teach the old guy to read and that painting was not only borrowed but expensive as hell.

“Hey!”

Trench coat at least had the decency to look sightly ashamed but Bowlegs turned to look at him with murder in his eyes before apparently recognizing Harry as the security guard. He groaned. Fuck his life, both of them could basically be his dad. “This is a museum.”

“We're aware.” Bowlegs said with a gruff voice but if Harry wasn't mistaken there was some humor underneath.

“Is there a problem?” Trench coat said as he took a step to the side.

Harry blinked at Trench coat's appearance. His hair was disheveled and his lips were puffy from kissing. “Uh, the museum is for looking at art, Sirs.”

Bowlegs' gaze flashed to Trench coat before nodding. “Oh, I know.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, so please. Refrain from touching the art,” Harry swallowed – what had his job become – “and, uh – each other.”

Trench coat adjusted his clothing and nodded. “Will do.”

Harry ignored the slight chuckle from Bowlegs.

Bowlegs came up to him, a disarming smile on his face.“Didn't mean to cause any trouble, officer,” he glanced at Harry's name tag and winked, “Johnson. We'll be on our way.”

As Bowlegs and Trench Coat left the room, he could hear them laugh like a couple of teenagers. Harry wiped a hand across his face. Adults these days.

 ~~~~

“I can't believe you called him that,” Cas exclaimed as they went to another part of the museum.

“What? It was his name, Cas.”

“It was how you said it. I'm just glad we didn't get kicked out. Can you get banned from a museum?”

Dean took Cas' hand in his. “I dunno. Probably. Wanna try?” Dean winked.

Cas smiled. “I feel rather hungry.”

“Yeah.” Dean motioned with his thumb to the exit. “Wanna get out of here? I spotted a nice restaurant just a few blocks away.”

Cas shook his head. “I'm not hungry, Dean.”

“Oh? But you just said – ”

Cas gaze went down Dean's body.”I'm hungry.”

“Oh.” Dean pulled Cas towards the exit. “You don't have to ask me twice, cowboy. Let's go.”