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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas.

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans.

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #ficlet #rae writes fic #profoundnet #established relationship #canon divergence

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billiewena · 3 years

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hey tabitha i just saw you finished and this your living kiss for the first time? 👀 what are your thoughts on it?

(spoiler review under the cut lmao)

LOVED IT LOVED IT. so I’m not a big AU person (I love canonverse too much and there’s always so many OOC characters... it's why I never finished Beat Sheet RIP, though it was hilarious and now that I know the plot twist through tumblr I kinda want to finish it just for that.) But this hit just the right amount of buttons for me.

I think their relationship translated soooooo well to this alternate universe. like, what is dean if not just some guy with a shitty, shitty life but lots of spirit and love who somehow inspires cas to be himself and break free y'know.

the side character roles were so creative too. like, missouri being his former teacher and mentor? kevin being the insecure student in class who was worried he'd never measure up to the poems from class? even tired-and-true tropes like charlie being his best friend felt more fleshed out with the flashbacks to how they met and her having her own life & story rather than just being there to be the emotional gay support.

also I said this here but I really do like that jack was the saileen kid instead of the destiel kid. I'm not big on baby jack (sorry y'all.) to be fair, this is definitely a personal preference since I don’t really care for babies or kidfic in general lol (the responsibility of raising a baby is terrifying to me and I don’t get the appeal of a ship having one) and have complicated feelings on dean & jack in general. but sometimes it sucks to see the importance of sam & jack's relationship undermined just to give dean/destiel a baby too, especially when he had been the first one to truly be there for him and care about him. so this at least fixes that.

uncle dean works SO well too. he’s not his father but he does spend a lot of time taking care of the kid and still becomes a huge part of his life. and it also meant we got to have a young jack who greets everyone by signing and I think that’s absolutely adorable (love that he was still adopted too.) sam got to more than just the “brother who is off at law school” too, loved them discussing the intricacies of being raised by john winchester and dean seeing how sam is trying to be a better father to jack.

anyways, as for the actual meat of the fic I mean woooooooooh the psychoanalysis of dean winchester through poems were written SO well and delicately. I’m not a very cultured person when it comes to poetry so I honestly learned a lot about form and prose from the discussions about it in both cas and missouri’s class. jack allen’s style is so fun and the kind of poetry I would be way more into over the “I am very intelligent” types the other students seem to prefer, with the way it feels more real and storytelling and references pop culture. it’s why I enjoy spn bloggers’ poems so much I think, because I know what it’s referencing.

but yeah, the “perfect” poem had me crying and seeing cas’s reaction to realizing the “lazarus” poem was about him was great. dean’s first poem about death was actually my favorite, I loved that it used creatures from the show like Thee Death as metaphor and imagery in his poem. it’s just such a cool way to tie in canon.

other small moments I liked: 1) the alternating POVs showing how each saw the other and were like “wow he is out of my league” 2) the hilarious discourse on how his poem was “femalecoded” and Max and Kevin basically being like “yeah that’s not a thing” like hello spn tumblr and 3) DEAN’S BIRTHDAY <3

was it borderline lifetime rom-com? sure. is it very unrealistic that a lot of people would show up to a lgbt college group’s poetry seminar because there was an attractive teacher? definitely. but overall, it’s just a very soft and sweet fic that I think any artist or creative type (not just poem writers) can relate to and see themselves in.

anyways this is definitely longer than what you asked for but WOOF I like this fic a lot, talk to me about it

sidenote: had a very out-of-body experience reading this part of the fic after realizing this fic was written in 2019 aka a YEAR BEFORE THE CONFESSION???

#the cascord has been doing a fic of the month club which is why I finally read it #next one up is strandlines so wish me luck #last one was Teaching Poetry to Fish which I haven't actually finished yet because I made the mistake of trying to read it one sitting #asks #gracekisses #destiel #and this your living kiss

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4llmywr1tings · 5 years

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Unforgettable

Pairing/Characters: Dean X Reader Words: 3,527 Warnings: self depreciating thoughts, suicidal conversations, canon violence, language A/N: (Y/N): your name. (Y/N/N): your nickname Prompt: “You are unforgettable.” Tagging: @autoblocked

You could hear a steady heart beat. Maybe it was that guy lying on the floor.

No, it couldn’t have been, that was your heart. It was pounding out of your chest, almost to the point you could hear it. Or at least the werewolf might.

You flip the silver knife around in your hand, trying to decide if you were actually going to go through with it. To actually go ahead with the suicide mission.

Hell, no one would miss you. You didn’t have much family left. No mom, no dad, not even a sibling. They were killed by a demon. That’s how you met the Winchester’s. The demon was about to plunge the already used butcher knife into your heart, when brothers came barging in to your home.

You had met Dean a few months prior. He came in to your auto shop looking for a part to his carburetor and after a few minutes; his charm had you reeling for more when he wasn’t around.

After saving your life, and helping you fight a giant panic attack, you finally were able to accept that there were other things in the world, including Demons. You also had to accept that you were now alone.

Against Dean’s better judgment (or so you thought,) they took you in, letting you stay with them. You cooked, you cleaned, you researched and once you were ready, they’d train you to hunt.

That’s why you were hesitating rushing the werewolf. You could evade a few hits here and there; hell you’d killed a few witches and demons all by yourself. But Dean and Sam were there next to you, just in case. Dean and Sam also didn’t let you take on a werewolf in the time you had started living with them. It was too much for you.

‘Well, here goes nothing,’ you mutter to yourself. You look to the werewolf, crouching over the victim, ready to take his heart. Despite all you’re feeling, you can’t let it go on any further.

“Hey!” you yell.

Then you do the stupidest thing you can think of. You let out a whistle as if you’re calling out for your lost dog.

The male werewolf shoots his head up, looking to you, and his eyes change. He let’s a growl out from deep within him and springs in to action.

You easily evade his first few blows. You had caught him just enough off guard to give him a small beating to the gut.

That enrages him, and you lose the element of surprise, and your silver knife.

The wolf hisses at the silver and pushes you against the nearest wall. Sheet rock is pulled away, revealing a brick wall. Your back slams against it with a crunching force, and your head smacks it almost just as hard. Your vision goes white for a few seconds, but you pull yourself, readying in a fighting stance. The one Dean had taught you.

‘Sorry Dean, I guess you won’t be getting that pie you wanted or the burger.’ You thought to yourself.

You distribute your body weight over your feet – it’s a little more difficult to knock you off your feet.

You hold your fists up to your face – it’s easier to block a blow to your face.

You clutch your hands together, remembering not to tuck your thumbs in – that one you remembered learning as a kid. You had a boy harassing you in middle school, so you punched him. And you learned quickly what not to do. You had gotten a broken thumb.

You breathe in heavily.

“Wow, you’re a lot stronger than I thought.” He chuckles as he walks towards your knife. Even though the silver is painful to him, he picks up the blade. “You are stupid though.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You quip.

“That I can agree on.”

And with that, the werewolf charges you. Your head is swimming, and you’re in pain after only one brush against the wall. He brandishes the knife at you, but you manage to pin his arm, bending it as hard as you can in the opposite direction.

You kick back at his knee, and he groans in pain. You turn, as he’s gaining his composure, and you get cocky. Too cocky in fact, a trait that you got from Dean. ‘The fight first, ask questions later’ type of fight.

You’re dumb. You bend over to grab for the knife, the only weapon you have to defend yourself. You feel a knee to the chest, sending you back in to the wall. This time you can’t get up and the wolf makes his way to you, sending a blow to your stomach with his foot.

You cry out in pain, it’s numbing, that you almost want more. You take blow after blow, until the werewolf tires, and goes after your knife.

“Stupid little hunter.” He sneers. “YOU are probably the dumbest hunter in the world.”

You close your eyes at his words.

It was true.

You couldn’t understand why the Winchester brothers kept you around. It wasn’t because of your skills. You were rudimentary at best. You were an okay shot; and five times out of ten you hit your intended target. That just wasn’t good enough in this business.

When it came to research you were okay. You were a college drop out, who barely made it by in high school. You understood technology worse than Cas and that was saying something.

You were stupid.

“What the Winchester’s see in you, I have no idea.” The acidity level in his voice could almost melt you.

It was true.

You weren’t sure what they saw in you either.

“Just get it over with. I’m tired of seeing your ugly face.” You cough, feeling your mouth start to fill with blood.

He points the knife in your face, and you close your eyes, waiting for the monster to just end your miserable life.

“You stay away from her you son of a bitch!”

Dean.

Of course he had to show up, and then he’d have some convoluted point to prove.

“Well, he came. You know, I don’t know what you see in this little bitch. She’s – ” He can’t finish his sentence, a shot rings out, and the body falls with a thud to the ground.

A part of you is glad Dean came when he did, and your sigh shows it.

“(Y/N/N). Damn it, what were you thinking?” he used your pet name. Right now you really didn’t want to hear it. You wanted that ache – the one that wasn’t from your beating – to go away.

You wipe a tear away, and try to brace yourself and sit up.

“No. You aren’t getting up by yourself.” He puts a hand on your back, and scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his body. You whimper in pain, but he doesn’t notice, quickly taking you out of the house.

By the time you had returned to the bunker, you wouldn’t let Dean carry you anymore. You were tired of being coddled, and he didn’t seem to get it.

“Oh good, you found her. Is everything alri – ” Sam stops mid – sentence, seeing the look on your face, and then Dean’s even angrier look.

“No, it isn’t.” Dean mutters. He turns to you, and folds his arms across his chest. He reminded you of your father right about now. “What the hell were you doing, trying to get yourself killed? You know you’re not ready for a solo hunt yet.”

“Of course Dean. I was being stupid, and trying to off myself. I have about given up.” Sam winces at your words, he’s still in the room, like a little kid in between a fighting mom and dad.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asks, his voice is quiet. You can tell your words got to him too. He just doesn’t want to say it out loud. You’re damn suicidal.

“You don’t know?” you mutter getting up. Your tone is a little icy, and you can’t help but feel sorry for your next words. “I must’ve given you a little too much credit for being smart Dean.”

You try and stand, and have trouble, and both Sam and Dean race to your aide. “I’m not fucking fragile!” you yell. You were tired of people thinking you were some China doll in some glass shop. You were stronger than you let on. “I can walk on my own.”

Sam backs off quickly, not wanting to get the backlash of your anger, but Dean is a little less perceiving and he persists.

“(Y/N), let me at least help you to your room.” He replies.

“Winchester, if you as so much touch me right now, I will fucking stab you. Just leave me alone.”

Dean sighs, not knowing what to do or what has gotten in to you, but he backs off and watches you limp towards your room.

You step in to the bathroom and slowly peel out of your clothes; a large purple and blue bruise is spreading where you were kicked repeatedly in the ribs. You poke at the skin, just to feel some sort of pain, something else other than the internal and mental pain you were feeling.

You let the hot water run on your tired and aching body, and stand under the faucet until the water runs cold. You can hear the door open. You’re sure Dean is at the door, maybe even sitting on the counter. Waiting, lurking, hoping for some sort of answer.

You were one to keep to yourself. One to listen to Dean’s words, and one to not swear. You had gone out on a solo hunt, and you had let out the F word. Twice. So you knew they knew something was wrong.

To your dismay, Dean wouldn’t let it slide. He was sitting on the counter waiting for you.

You roll your eyes and wrap the towel around you, hiding as much of your bruised ribcage as you possibly can before turning to him.

“What do you want Dean? Can’t a girl shower in privacy?” you ask.

“No. Not until I’m convinced you’re okay.”

“I don’t want to talk Dean.”

“Well I don’t care. You are going to talk, and it can be now while you’re soaking wet, or once you’re dressed. But we’re talking. Got it?”

Despite being the cold-hearted hunter he liked to convince people he was, he was truly a softy.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

You brush past him and walk across the hall to your room.

You dress quickly. As quickly as your aching body will let you, because you want to get the conversation over. You pull a shirt over your head, barely being able to move your arms. You’re combing a ratted mess of curly hair when Dean knocks on your door.

“Wow. You actually knocked.” You mutter. You grimace as you hit a snag, and Dean tries to come to you. You hold out your hand and stop him. “Get the yelling over with, because I really just want to go to bed.”

“I’m not going to yell, because I feel that wouldn’t help.”

“You’re damn right it won’t. You aren’t my father Dean, you’re my equal.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He sits down and looks up to you.

“I didn’t say in hunting Dean, I said you were my equal. I’m a human being.”

“Why do you even care if I’m a little overbearing? I do this because I.”

“I want to protect you. I know. I know.” You mutter. If you had heard it once, you heard it a thousand times.

“(Y/N/N), what’s gotten in to you? I’m worried.”

“Clinical depression Dean. That’s what’s gotten in to me.” You reply.

“Wait, you’re depressed?” he asked confused as to why.

“Yeah. It runs in the family, and after my parents died, so did the insurance plan that covered my meds.” You said throwing a pill bottle at him. “They were helping. I guess they were helping me be less reckless and stupid.”

“You can’t listen to what that monster was saying.”

“Why? It’s true. What I did was stupid.” You replied.

“Why don’t you just take me back? Tell me what’s going on? You used to talk to me.”

You sigh and finally look to him. “Why do you guys keep me around? I’m no good on hunts; I’ve already proven myself in that category. I barely help Sam on research, hell I can barely cook.”

“Is that what this is about? Your place here?”

“Dean, I’ve seen first hand what you do. It’s important. You’re saving the world, time and time again. I sold parts at an auto – store. What good was that?” you twirl a curly tendril of hair around your finger. You keep your eyes on the tips, seeking out any split ends.

“We met each other.”

“Please Dean, I know you barely see me as a friend, let alone anything I want this to be.” You motion between the two of you.

“What? How? Did I not make it obvious?” he asks, sputtering.

“That’s beside the point Dean. You wanted to know. I’m telling you. I was bullied as a kid. I was always so sick with chemo and radiation from the cancer that I never went to school. When I finally did, I had no friends. And the people that did actually talk to me, either kicked me, hit me, or made fun of me for the sudden weight gain. And to make it even better, my family didn’t understand. The only person that understood was my grandma, and she’s no longer here. People telling you you’re ugly and fat and worthless, it takes a lot longer for a woman to forget and unlearn, than a man. So yeah. I wanted to kill my self. I ran out of something that was helping me, and I didn’t see any other way.”

Dean is silent. You want him to say something, so you don’t feel like an idiot, or a frickin’ pariah. “I wish you would’ve told me. That I had known. I wish you would’ve talked to me. I’m always here for you, even if you think it’s stupid.”

“That’s the thing Dean. No matter how much someone says they’re there for someone, my brain doesn’t accept it. I self – depreciate too much.” You reply. You’re leaning against your dresser, but you’re in too much pain so you stiffly walk towards the bed. “Shit, I’m more like you than I thought.”

“I get that. Well, I don’t really get that. But I love you (Y/N). I am here for you. Why the hell would you think that it would be alright to go and off yourself? Do you not feel like you’re family?” he asks.

“No Dean. Not really.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look to him. “I can’t tell you how many times you come home from a hunt, and need your laundry washed, or a hot meal, and you’ve just expected it. Or how often you come home to a clean and tidy bunker, yet you both don’t even say a damn thing. It’s just expected of me. And yes, I get that. You invited me in to your home. I’m the odd man out. It still hurts.”

You don’t mean to, but you get a sad look from Dean, your feelings have been heard and he knows you are hurt. You take a breath, and lie back down; your side is hurting too much.

“I get that I’m living in your home, for free. But it sucks. Think how you would feel if the situation were reversed.” You wipe a tear from your face and close your eyes.

By the time you open them, Dean’s green eyes are gazing at you. “You know how beautiful you are right now. Even when you are all emotional.”

“Oh shut the hell up, you don’t know what you’re talking about Dean.” You try and turn away from him, but you can’t. The pain stops you.

“I do know what I’m talking about, and you are just going to shut that gorgeous mouth of yours, and let me talk.” He says standing.

“Wow, forward, eh?” you mutter.

“Just listen, please.”

You sigh and nod, showing him he has your attention.

“I’m so sorry that we don’t appreciate what you do around here. And I know that we could utilize you more, on hunts. But I have selfish motives. I’m doing this for a reason. I’m keeping you safe for certain reasons.”

You try and speak; and you know what you’d say. Even he’d know what you’d say.

You’d say the same thing you always did. I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself; so on and so forth.

You’re about to tell him your spiel, for the thousandth time when he shakes his head. “Let me get this out while I’ve got enough confidence to.” He clears his throat and smiles, making you feel weak at your knees. “I wanted this to be something,” he motions between the two of you, “since the minute I walked in looking for that part for the impala. Yeah, you may not have a degree in college; I barely made it through high school before getting my GED. And yes, you may not go on as many hunts as you want.”

He cups your cheek in his hand, and forces you to look to him. Right about now, you think you have an idea of where the conversation is going to go. You want him to say it, but you aren’t sure you would believe it.

“There’s a big reason I don’t like you going on hunts. One, you just lost your parents to demons. I say you’ve come a long the last few months, but you’re still grieving. I wish I could’ve had a lot more time to grieve my family, but I was a kid. A hunt isn’t the place to be to grieve the loss of family. Two, I don’t want to see you get hurt. I love you, and if I can protect someone I love, I’ll do it in any way I can.”

“You love Sam, yet you don’t force him to stay home and do your laundry or cleaning or cooking. You let him go on solo hunts – ” childish, you know, but you had to say it – “You let him contribute.”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t see myself settling down with him, or starting a family, or actually leaving the life. I see it with you, and if I can protect you, I will.”

“How could you love someone like me?” you ask. You felt child like, but you really needed him to tell you. You needed to hear it before you dropped things. “Well,” he slowly wraps his arms around you, gingerly caressing your body, finding the only spots that weren’t in pain. “I love that you can magically defuse any tension between me and Sam. You can help us forget about what we’re fighting about in minutes, it’s ridiculous. You can take apart an engine and put it back together better than any mechanic. No, any male mechanic I’ve ever met. Better than I can, and I’ve rebuilt baby so many times. You have the sharpest memory ever. You’ll remember things Sam or Cas or I have said weeks ago. Sam can barely remember what happened last week. Damn guy hits his head so much. Even though you never thrived in the academic setting, you can remember things Sam and I can’t with the lore and things we’ve said. Hell, he went to Law School.” He shrugs his shoulders. “A bit of it at least.”

You giggle slightly at his last comment, and snuggle in tighter to his body, no matter how loud your joints were screaming at you.

“And even though you just went through the ringer with that werewolf, you are the strongest woman I know. You are unforgettable. I could never forget someone like you. Someone that went through that should be in intensive care. You don’t know how much I admire how quickly you bounce back after a fight. And you do make a mean pecan pie.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head.

“Thank you Dean.” You say quietly.

“For what?” he asks. You can feel him kiss your forehead and you close your eyes happily.

“All those kind words. I’m broken. It’s going to take a lot to fix me. I’m all duct tape and super glue and safety pins inside. You may need to remind me from time to time.”

He pulls you to his body, all though your limbs and joints are protesting; you situate your body on his, head resting on his heart.

It’s then that you two both enter a silent agreement not to talk any more.

Just to be.

To hold each other.

A silent agreement that would hold strong and true for years and years to come.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean fan fiction #dean drabble #dean winchester drabble #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #spn #spn one shot #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

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emoryhemsworth · 7 years

Text

Losing Sleep

Summary: Dean has been in love with the reader since he was a teenager, and is forced to confess his feelings when a guy at a bar gets handsy with the reader.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader; platonic Sam x Reader

Word Count: 904 (with lyrics)

Genre: Fluff, angst, implied smut

Rating: T for language and adult content

Warnings: Unwanted advances, canon-typical violence.

Author’s Note: Written for @waywardmoeyy’s Moeyy’s 600 Follower Not-So-Challenging Challenge! The song I chose was “Losing Sleep” by Chris Young, which you can listen to here. I have included the chorus, which was the inspiration for this fic. I really had fun with this one! Enjoy!

Another night, another dive bar. Dean, Sam, Cass, and Y/N had just finished taking care of a particularly nasty nest of vampires. Y/N was the daughter of hunters herself, and had grown up in the life. Her dad had been killed by demons when she was young, and her mom had died on a hunt when she was a teenager, so she often ended up at Bobby’s. That’s where she had met Sam and Dean.

Y/N and Sam had struck up a quick friendship as she was only a year younger than him. She and Dean on the other hand fought like you wouldn’t believe. At first, it was because Dean was resentful for another person he was responsible for looking after. As they grew older and got to know each other, though, it became a façade to mask his feelings for her.

This hadn’t changed, and Dean was seeing red watching Y/N dance (more like grind, he thought bitterly to himself) with a guy who looked like an aged frat boy.

“Dean, why don’t you grow a pair and just tell her how you feel already?” Sam sighed, growing irritated with his brother staring daggers at the guy that was all over Y/N. He responded by throwing back another shot of Jack. Sam just shook his head and scanned the bar for potential threats.

Mike’s hands slid down from Y/N’s waist to her hips, and she gave him a ‘don’t push it’ look as she moved his hands back up to her waist.

“Sorry, babe,” he gave her a smirk that made her a little uncomfortable, but Y/N continued to dance with him anyway.

Dean immediately stood up when he saw the guy making moves on Y/N that she didn’t look completely comfortable with. Thankfully, Sam was able to hold Dean back from punching the guy in the face due to his quick reflexes.

“Dude, she can take care of herself, back off,” Sam managed to keep his voice low as not to draw attention to themselves.

“Fine, but if he gets handsy again, I swear I’m going to punch him in the face,” Dean growled.

Her eyes widened as he pulled her close for a kiss, and she struggled against him in a desperate attempt to break his hold on her.

“What the hell?!” Y/N hissed at him.

Dean immediately stood up and thanks to his large stride, had Mike on the ground and was punching him in the face over and over before anyone could stop him.

“Shit,” Sam swore under his breath before rushing over to where his brother was beating the crap out of Mike.

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on my woman again,” Dean said through gritted teeth dangerously between punches.

“Oh, your woman? News flash, man: guys like you are a dime a dozen,” Mike panted.

“There ain’t no other men like me,” Dean snarled back.

Right then, Sam was able to get Dean off of the poor guy. Dean shrugged him off as the bouncer came over to them.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving,” Dean said, clearly annoyed by this point. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go,” he said, grabbing her wrist and leading her out to where Baby was parked.

As they got to the mint condition ’67 Impala, Y/N wriggled her wrist free of Dean’s grasp.

“What the hell, Dean?! I can take care of myself!” Y/N said, her voice gradually rising as she was guided into Baby’s passenger seat. Dean slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t say a word the whole way back, white-knuckling it all the way back to the bunker.

He slammed the door behind them when they got back. “What was that all about, Dean?” Y/N said in a softer tone, running her fingers through her hair.

“Do you seriously not know how I feel about you, Y/N?” Dean ran his fingers through his spiky hair.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N whispered, afraid of what it would mean for their relationship if Dean did in fact have feelings for her.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was 15,” Dean said defeated. “Clearly you don’t feel the same way,” he spat as he turned to go to his room.

“Dean, wait!” she reached for him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I… I have feelings for you too…” Y/N blushed, trailing off towards the end of her sentence.

Dean tilted her chin up, Y/N’s eyes meeting with his forest green ones.

“God, we’ve wasted so much time…” he whispered.

“Dean, kiss me,” she whimpered as he pulled her close.

“Dean, this wasn’t just a one-time thing, right?” she looked up at him, truly afraid that he would get scared and break her heart by saying it was just the alcohol after what they had just shared.

“Hell no, princess. Now that I have you, I’m not ever letting you go,” Dean said gently as he pulled her close, relishing in the feeling of her bare skin against his.

“Mmmh, good,” she mumbled as she rested her head on his chest, falling asleep. This was only the beginning for them.

Fall into me Let me breathe the air you breathe I can take you anywhere you want to be When it comes to us Every single touch is something special When we're wrapped up in those sheets Yeah we're winning, we're losing When we're losing sleep

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #Moeyy’s 600 Follower Not-So-Challenging Challenge

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