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hanny-writes-spn · 8 years ago

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Time Heals All

Word Count: 1792

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Loss of a fiance, mentions of canon type violence

A/N: This is my (very late) entry for @luci-in-trenchcoats 2K fic challenge!! My quote was, “I guess because every woman I’ve ever had relations with hasn’t ended well.” It’s bolded within this fic. Thank you so much Michelle for being so understanding and giving me an extension, and congratulations on 2K (and now 3K!!) :-)

Also, thank you to my wonderful betas @melonshino and @like-a-bag-of-potatoes! I don’t know what I would do without you two :-)

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Nothing prepared you for a life of hunting.

It was thrust upon you when your fiance, Ryan, was attacked and killed by a werewolf during a camping trip, you were pushed into the life trying to get the revenge you felt he deserved. Sam and Dean Winchester were the reason you were alive and walked away from that dreadful night - that was the same night you struck up a deal with them. They agreed to help you end that werewolf, on the one condition that would be the only thing you would hunt. Ever.

Clearly, that agreement didn’t hold up.

You caught and killed the werewolf two years ago, but here you were, sitting next to Sam in the front seat of the Impala coming home from a simple salt and burn. You were letting your mind wander as you watched the dim lights of the night zoom past you, making you wonder what else was lurking in the darkness.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Sam nudged you gently. The concern in his eyes made you smile as you shrugged and nodded.

Your eyes lingered on him a little bit longer than you felt that they should have. Sam was incredibly easy on the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m just tired… how much longer until we get home?”

“About 10 hours or so. Depends how much I drive like Dean.”

You chuckled and looked at your watch. It was 2 AM and you really wanted a bed. Sure, you could in theory sleep anywhere (you had lost count the amount of times you slept in the back seat of the car) but tonight, a bed was calling your name.

“Do you mind if we stop for the night?”

You saw a sigh of relief leave Sam’s shoulders as he graciously nodded and pulled into the nearest motel parking lot. Sam started collecting your bags as you went to the front desk to buy a room for the night.

“Hi, can I get one room with two beds?” you asked groggily, taking out your credit card and running your fingers over the raised numbers. Using stolen credit cards always made you so paranoid.

After a few taps on the computer, the receptionist shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. The only available room we have has one king sized bed.”

You stood and contemplated. Sharing a bed with Sam wouldn’t be the end of the world, right? You nodded and took the key from her hand and went to the room.

But as you paid you felt a little guilty doing so, yet you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

“I requested one room with one bed so I could finally fulfill my deepest, darkest fantasy of getting you into bed, Sam Winchester,” you joked with a wink, leading Sam to the motel room. Of course whenever you flirted with Sam it was done jokingly so, although sometimes you were serious.

He laughed aloud, like he always did when you flirted with him, but this time you swear you could have seen his cheeks flush.

“But seriously, this was all they had left… I hope you don’t mind.”

Sam just shrugged and gave you a weak smile in return. “No, that’s okay,” he barely said above a whisper.

Your relationship with Sam and Dean was brotherly, for the most part. They were your protectors, your friends, and your roommates. They held you when the nightmares came and you comforted them after bad hunts. You and Dean got along well right from the beginning, but with Sam you had to work for it.

From stories you heard from Cas, it was usually the other way around. Sam was usually the friendlier one, but for some reason with you, Dean opened up to you easier than Sam did.

Your theory as to why Dean was open to you was because you brought something helpful to the table - your computer skills were above average to say the least. You learned code at a young age and you were hacking into the FBI database by age 12. Dean was eager to let you help them through technology (as long as you stayed in the bunker, of course) and hesitantly agreed to let you go along on the smaller, less risky cases. It wasn’t like you really wanted to be out there hunting anyway - you didn’t want to be reminded of the horrors that took your fiance.

You considered Dean one of your best friends. He shared secrets with you that he rarely told anyone and he trusted you. You had never let the boys down before, and that meant a great deal to Dean.

Sam on the other hand was unsure about you working with them. You quickly learned that he wasn’t as fond of “the life” as Dean was and even without him telling you, you realized that he wanted you to go out and have a normal life. One that him and Dean never got the chance to have.

The boys never talked about it much, but just by the empty looks in their eyes, you could tell that they had experienced a lot of loss in their lives. Sam probably just didn’t want you to be another person he would have to add to his long list of people he loved who had died.

Sam was never rude to you by any means, but he just wouldn’t let you in. Whenever you would try to sit and have a friendly conversation with him, he would only politely reply and just continue to do his own thing.

But the fact that he agreed to go on this hunt with you was a big step in your relationship. And you were trying to keep every moment of the hunt light and relaxed.

After settling in and eating, you finally decided to take a shower after Sam took his. When you walked out into the main living space to grab some stuff you forgot from you bag, you could feel Sam’s eyes roam over your towel-covered body.

“Oh shoot… Hey, can I, erm… borrow one of your shirts? All of the ones I have in here are dirty.”

Sam nodded wordlessly before throwing you one, which you quickly went back to the bathroom to put on. You were confused by his demeanor change but just shrugged and went with it.

With wet hair and bare feet, you made your way into the king sized bed and propped yourself up with a pillow behind you. You had brought along a book from the Men of Letters library to lull yourself to sleep with.

You missed it, but Sam took a double take, taking a peek at you wearing his shirt. He shook his head quickly and turned so his back was facing you.

As you both laid next to each other, you suddenly realized that this was the first time since your fiance died that you were about to sleep next to another man. That thought sent a horrible sinking feeling into your stomach, reminding you of your beloved. You realized that was probably why you had felt so guilty when buying the room in the first place.

Ryan was the last thing on your mind before you drifted off to sleep.

...

You woke up screaming and sweaty.

It was a recurring nightmare that you had a lot right after Ryan’s death. It was basically the exact same thing that happened, but this time you were getting ripped apart by the werewolf as well.

Sam placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, urging your body closer to his chest.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’m right here… you’re safe,” Sam whispered. He didn’t even have to ask what the nightmare was, as he knew from experience that it was the one about Ryan.

You caught your breath for a moment, enjoying the warmth radiating off of Sam’s bare chest.

“You haven’t had one of those dreams in a while…” Sam said after a minute.

Still out of breath and unable to talk, you just nodded against him. His hard pecs swelled up and he blew out a deep sigh before he started talking again.

“Have I ever told you about Jess?”

You pulled away so you could look at him. You were met with his sad, hazel eyes looking back at you, pitying you. Dean had mentioned that Jess was Sam’s girlfriend in college, but never elaborated further on it.

“No… who’s Jess?”

“She was my girlfriend in college. She uh, was the love of my life… When I tried to get out of this life, she was my rock. I really thought I was going to marry her, until…” he paused and you could see that he was tearing up. “She died. She died because of what I do… what we do, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you did the best that you could. You comforted him by grabbing onto his hand and rubbing little circled over the top of it.

“Sam, I am so sorry…” you whispered. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“I’ve had a hard time opening up to you, Y/N… I don’t think that’s a secret. Ever since Jess, I haven’t had a lot of girlfriends, but the ones that I have had… something bad has always happened. And when you came into our lives, I was worried. Worried that those same bad things would happen to you if I let myself fall for you. I guess because every woman I’ve ever had relations with hasn’t ended well. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“But Sam, I’m… We’re not dating.”

Sam gave your hand a little squeeze. “I know, I know, but… I wouldn’t mind if someday we gave us a chance.”

You pulled away from him and stood up from the bed. “Okay, uh…” you stuttered out as you ran your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know about that, Sam.”

Sam followed you, putting your hands in his once again. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Y/N… I know you feel the same way…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing a couple of tears out. “I’m… not ready, Sam,” you looked up at him with sorrow in your eyes.

“I’m done being scared, Y/N. I’ll wait for you and I’ll be here for you for as long as it takes for you to be ready.”

You initiated the next hug as you both stood wordlessly in the dark hotel room, holding on to each other as if you were afraid if you didn’t, you would fall apart.

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deanssweetheart23 · 8 years ago

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The Promise

Title: The Promise (Mechanic!Dean x Reader, Best Friends AU). Part 1.

Summary: When Dean Winchester was a little kid, he met a girl that would change his life. So, he stood by her through thick and thin and every time people asked him what home was to him all he could think of was her beautiful smile and her big, bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. Because, like Melville used to say, his home was not down in any map. True places never are.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (mentioned), Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Leslie (OFC, only mentioned), Lisa Braeden

Word count: 7217 (I know, I know, it’s a monster fic but I hope it’s worth it)

Warnings: Language. Lots of fluff. Angst. Divorche, mentions of an almost-fatal car accident and drunk driving, death of a parent. Kid Dean (trust me that should be a warning). Lots of feels.

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats ‘s 2K Follower Challenge. Michelle, congratulations on your milestone, you deserve it so much! Thank you for organizing this and for letting me participate. I had tons of fun writing this.

Now into the fic, my prompt was “ We’ll figure it out. We always do.” and it is included in the text below in bold. (This is an AU, written entirely from Dean’s POV and hopefully they’ll be more parts.)

Enjoy everyone!

Dean was five years old when he met the girl that would change his life. Of course, he was too young to know it then, but that didn’t stop Lady Luck from working her magic.

Everything started at the playground just a few blocks away from his house. The little Y/H/C girl was there again that morning, just like the last two times, jumping off the swing like she could fly, but Dean didn’t want to leave his mum and his brother alone to go talk to her. So, he stayed away, stealing glances every now and then, until another boy, older than him and plainly mean, shoved her off the swing and made her fall flat on her butt.

The girl gasped in surprise, her bottom lip wobbling and Dean knew he had to do something about it because he hated seeing girls cry; it reminded him of that time his parents spent the entire night fighting, and of the next morning, when his mother’s eyes were red and puffy and he had to hug her and tell her that joke about the stick being brown and sticky to make her laugh.

So, the green-eyed boy walked to that annoying kid, told him to leave her alone and when he didn’t listen and made fun of her again, Dean punched him so hard that his stupid Pokemon hat flew off and his whole face turned red.

A few seconds later, Stupid Hat was leaving with his tail between his legs and Dean was turning towards the girl that looked like a scared little bird, her big Y/E/C eyes wide open.

“Are you okay?” he implored, taking a step forward.

She nodded solemnly and looked down on the ground.

“Are you going to be mean to me like he was?” she asked.

Dean shook his head.

“No. He was an idiot. Here, give me your hand.” He said and she obeyed, smiled shyly at him.

She was kind of cute.

“I’m Dean.”

“Y/N.” She said, smoothing down her shirt like a lady. “Thank you for helping me. But I could have handled myself.” She grinned, more confident now, and he smiled.

He knew then that she would never go easy on him.

“Yeah, well-”

“Wanna play Monster Truck with me?”

“You play Monster Truck?”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, silly.”

Dean looked at her, dumbfounded, and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“Okay. Yeah, I guess.”

“Great! C’mon, I’ll let you pick your team first. And when we’re done we can share my cherry pie.”

“You have pie?”

She grinned mischievously.

“My mum baked one this morning. We weren’t supposed to eat it until lunch but I hid one slice in my bag. We can share.” she paused, then turned to him, titling her head. “You do like pie. Right?”

Dean smiled widely.

He liked her.

Dean was six years old when he realized he’d do anything to protect her. They were in his bedroom, way past their bedtime, quietly talking about monsters and fairy-tales and his ambition to become the new Indiana Jones. It was one of their arranged sleepovers and she was laying in a sleeping bag on the floor, the sound of thunders booming outside filling the room.

She was afraid of thunders. She’d never told him, surely -Y/N never admitted anything that would make her look like a child because she was, as her father liked to point out regularly, a big girl. But he knew. He could see it in the way she balled her hands into fists and winced every time the lighting stroke.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning restlessly in her sleeping bag.

“Wanna come sleep in my bed?” he asked, rustling his Batman sheets. The little girl shoot up and looked at him, head titled to the left, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“I’m, um… It’s a big bed. And better than the sleeping bag.”

“But miss Mary said I can only sleep here.”

“I know. We can wake up early tomorrow morning and get you back in the sleeping bag. Mum won’t even notice and I won’t say a word if you don’t.” He explained, shrugging. “You don’t have to come. I just thought you’d sleep better. I can protect you from all the thunders.”

She silently gazed at him, eyes narrowed, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to slap the back of his head and tell him he was an idiot because she was not afraid of anything.

But then-

“Okay.”

Dean chuckled breathlessly, almost unable to believe that for once that girl hadn’t given him a hard time, and watched as she grabbed her pillow, climbed into bed and laid on her side, facing him.

“Better?” he asked, scooting as close to her as he could.

She nodded and looked at him through her lashes, a smile gracing her cute little face.

“Thanks, D.” she whispered, squeezing his hand. The tips of his ears turned pink and his throat suddenly went dry like it did every time he was sick for days and his mum made him drink tea, all because he was the one that had made her smile.

She never used that sleeping bag again.

Dean was ten years old when he promised her they would be friends forever. The sun was burning hot above them and they were walking home from school, side by side, exhausted from a day of double algebra and Miss Monkey Face’s scolding because, instead of paying attention to her, they had been talking to each other.

“What if your dad takes you and Sammy away?” she asked out of the blue, handing him a Hershey bar.

“My dad won’t take me away, Y/N. That’s stupid.” He told her, his tone a little harsher than he intended to.

Offended, she scrunched up her nose and stomped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And why is that stupid?”

“Because he is not leaving Lawrence.”

He’s just leaving Mum, he thought.

The little girl in front of him shook her head and huffed.

“But Frizzy Lizzy told me that when her uncle left her aunt he moved into Lebanon and took her cousins with him.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“Yeah, well, Frizzy Lizzy is an idiot and so are you.” he hissed, rolling his eyes as he fastened his step to get away from her.

“Hey, that’s mean.” She whined, chasing after him.

“You’re mean.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You’re mean and stupid and I don’t like you anymore.” He told her, throwing the Hershey bar she’d given him to the ground.

“You’re lying!” she yelled from somewhere behind him.

“Am not.”

“You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying!” she screeched, voice louder than before.

Dean huffed in exasperation and turned around to face her.

“I’m not- hey, what -are you crying?”

Y/N shook her head in negative, cheeks red.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, all the anger he had felt earlier now evaporating.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, pushing past him. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore! I hate you!”

Dean’s jaw dropped as he stared at her in shock, so open-mouthed that he could have caught flies. He tried to say something but she just ignored him, turning around and beginning to walk away.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” he chanted, trying to reach her. “Hey, wait! I’m sorry!”

Groaning, the little girl stopped, shuffling a little on her feet. By the time he was next to her, her eyes were watery and her nose runny and his stomach was heavy with guilt because he knew that it was his fault; he shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her.

But then again, Dean was mad all the time lately because his parents’ breakup was so unfair and no one could understand that. Not even Y/N. Because even though she was his best friend, her parents were still living together and they were happy and they were going to celebrate stupid Valentine’s day while his father had spent the last two weeks packing.

“I’m not mean.” She sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not going to leave. And you’re right. You’re not mean. Or an idiot.” He mumbled, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry I called you those things.”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry I said mister John is going to take you away. I like your dad. I like him a lot. I was just worried because you’re my best friend.” She whispered. “And I want us to stay friends forever.”

Dean stared at her, eyes flickering over every feature of her face, and realized that he couldn’t imagine not being friends with her.

“We will. I promise.” He said, reaching for her pinky and linking it with his. “We’ll be best friends forever.”

She smiled, eyes sparkling, and Dean thought that he’d never seen anything prettier.

“And ever?” she asked.

Dean grinned.

“And ever.”

She giggled, her cheeks turning a light pink, and, somehow, although he was only ten at that time, he could feel it, he could feel it in his bones that making that promise was the best decision he’d ever make.

Dean was thirteen years old when he thought about kissing her for the first time. He was chasing after her in the back yard of the Y/L/N’s house, the sound of her giggles, merry and hearty, filling the air.

“Take it back.” he yelled, watching as her hair flew out behind her.

“Never.”

“I said take it back.”

“Nope. From now on you’ll always be my Deanie Beanie.” She snickered as she turned around to face him, mischief coating her features.

Oh. It was so on.

“You little brat.” He spat as he started towards her again, an evil laugh escaping his lips. Because, sure, she was fast, but his legs were longer and before she even knew it his hands were around her waist and both of them were falling into the grass.

“Dean. Let go.” She managed to huff out, squirming to crawl out from under him but having no such luck.

“Nope. Not until you take it back.”

“Get your meaty butt off me, Winchester.” She cried, punching his chest, but he only laughed.

“Oh, so we’re being mean now. I can be mean.” He grinned, his hands sliding at her ribcage.

“No. Dean, don’t-”

The rest of her words were lost as she began to wail with laughter, wriggling.

“D-dean. S-stop!” she begged, shoving him in a desperate attempt to get him off of her. Still, he only chuckled and continued his assault, happy to be taking revenge.

“You-re g-going to k-kill me.”

“Take it back.”

“D-dean.”

Dean shook his head.

“Just take it back, cherry pie.” he grumbled out, smirking.

“F-fine. Fine. You win! I can’t b-breathe.” She pleaded, throwing her hands up in surrender.

He smiled cheekily and stopped, tucking a sweaty stray of hair behind her ear, taking in flushed cheeks and happy, kind eyes as they locked onto his. She whispered something that sounded awfully like a curse and he chortled, gaze traveling to her lips. He hadn’t noticed until that moment but they looked so soft and alive and even though he was thirteen and believed that kissing was gross he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. Wondered whether she would taste like the pie they had shared earlier or something spicier, like black coffee.

So, he ducked in, leaning a little closer and sighed in relief when instead of pushing him away or punching him in the face, she beamed and bit her bottom lip and then-

“Kids, the food’s ready.”

Dean cleared his throat quietly and pulled away.

“Um. We should... I mean, there’s food.”

She let out a breathy laugh and nodded.

“Yeah.” She agreed, getting up. “But we can… D’you want to go to the strawberry field later?” she asked, bumping her shoulder with his. “We can play baseball.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, Y/N. Anything you want.”

Dean was seventeen years old when he realized he couldn’t live without her. He was sitting on one of those stiff hospital chairs, watching her sleep, her hand cradled into his and what had almost happened sprung to his mind. She’d gotten into a car accident and almost didn’t make it. He’d almost lost her.

The mere thought made him want to crawl out of his skin; he’d lost too much already but she’d always been there to pick up the pieces. Her leaving him though, he’d never be able to live through that.

The sound of rustling sheets pulled him out of his thoughts and her hand squeezed his.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Deanie Beanie.” She muttered, her voice raspy. “Hey.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I never will. You’re my Deanie Beanie.” She smiled at his bitch-face, sitting up. “Where are mum and dad?”

“Home. I told them I’d stay with you for the night.”

“Thanks.” She whispered and he nodded and helped her sip some water. When she sat back, she winced.

“You in pain? Should I call the nurse?”

“No. Honestly, I have so much morphine pumping through my veins right now, I’m surprised I’m not high.” She muttered, running her fingers through her hair. “How is the other driver doing?”

Dean’s jaw clenched painfully.

“Son of a bitch’s dandy.”

“Dean-”

“He was drunk off his ass, Y/N.” he cut her off, his voiced laced with fury. “He was lucky they didn’t let me near him or so help me God-”

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m right here.” She reassured him soothingly, bringing their joined hands to her dry lips and tenderly kissing his knuckles. The gesture was intimate and innocent and it made Dean’s heart spiral out of control; it always amazed him how a girl like her could see something in him.

“I’m good, I promise.” She added. “You, on the other hand, look like complete and total crap.”

Dean laughed gruffly, shaking his hand.

“Wow, sweetheart. Tell us what you really think.”

She chuckled, the sound making Dean’s heart swell. Day by day, she sounded more like herself. Looked more like herself. Her face was no longer the color of crispy clean sheets and the gauze that covered her head was long gone. Yesterday, she’d even teased Sam about his height, said they’d never find a hospital bed big enough to fit his huge legs. The bickering that followed her comment had made him smile. He’d missed it. He’d missed her.

“You know what I mean, D. When was the last time you slept?”

“Couple of days ago, I guess.” He shrugged, as if it was nothing, his fingers running soothing circles on her palm.

“My God, Winchester. You should go home. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow. It’s not like I’m gonna go anywhere.”

Dean pursed his lips.

“Snowball’s chance, princess.”

“You need to. D, you look exhausted.” She protested, eyes filled with worry. The thought warmed his heart. It was a selfish thought, but he liked to know that she worried about him. Very few people in his world did.

“Not happening. I promised your parents I’d keep an eye on you.”

“So? Call my sister. She’ll be here in zero time.”

“I don’t want to call Leslie. Do you want me to leave?” he asked, licking his lips.

Instead of replying, Y/N arched her eyebrow in the same adorable way she always did when something surprised her and shook her head.

“Of course not. You’re…. You’re the only one I would want here. But-”

“No buts. I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, eyes locked on his, appraising him. He didn’t dare avert his gaze.

“Fine.” She huffed at last, trying to feign annoyance. “But, at least come sleep here with me. I hate seeing you sitting on that horrible chair.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

She sighed.

“D., you’re not supposed to say no to the girl that almost died. You’re supposed to be, like, my bitch now.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her the size of half-dollars, completely unamused. He admired her for the way she joked about the car accident like it was nothing, but it made his heart ache all the same.

“That’s not funny.”

She chuckled.

“It is. But it’s too soon so you get a free pass for not laughing.” She declared, biting her bottom lip. “Will you please come here now?”

“No.”

“Stubborn asshole.” She muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Another pause and-

“C’mon, D.” she begged again, titling her head to the left, eyes wide and pleading, that half-pout she pouted every time she wanted to sweet-talk him into something, gracing her perfect lips.

Well, shit.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“For me?” she asked, a toothy grin on her face.

Shit.

It was a matter of time before he caved and they both knew it.

“Ugh. You got me wrapped around your little finger, you know that?” he asked, trying to suppress his smile.

She grinned in mischief, her gorgeous eyes twinkling.

“I do. It’s kind of cute, really.”

“You’re such a brat.” He accused, kicking off his boots.

“I know. ‘S one of the things that make me adorable. Like your bowlegs.”

Dean arched an eyebrow and chuckled wryly.

“Oh, so we’re pointing out flaws now, aren’t we, Shorty?” he asked as he climbed into the bed.

“Shut up, you ass. ‘M not short. You and your brother are just abnormally huge.”

“I would so make an inappropriate comment about this if you weren’t laying on a hospital bed right now.” he laughed, throwing the hospital sheet over them.

“Perv.”

“Cherry pie.” He retorted.

His eyes locked on hers, bright and intense, taking in the different specks and hues of Y/E/C there, the twinkle that seemed to shine through every time she glanced his way, the way they were bright and wide in the dim light of the hospital room, storing every detail into memory.

“What?” she asked, chuckling nervously. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

Dean smiled softly at her and tucked a stray of hair behind her ear.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Her face turned a lovely bright pink color and his heart fluttered. He could feel the words dancing on his lips, almost pushing their way out, words they’d never told each other before, even though they both knew the sentiment was there. Sometimes they danced at the back of his mind when she did something silly just to make him smile or when she stole fries from his plate or when they stargazed on the hood of his dad’s car, but he’d been too afraid to acknowledge them.

Now though… Now there was no fear.

If anything, he was a lost cause already.

“What is it, D.?”

Her voice was soft like silk and those three words almost jumped off his lips without his consent. But he needed to tell her and he needed it with a need that was maddeningly beyond him.

“I love you.”

It came out as a whisper, breathy and low and fast, almost too fast, but she smiled her most beautiful smile and reached for his hand, manipulating their fingers together until they were intertwined.

“I love you too.” she grinned, stretching up to kiss his jaw.

He sighed in relief, heart swelling, and promised himself that he would hold on to that feeling, that warmth that had nestled into his chest after those four little words had caressed his ears.

Yeah.

He was never going to let it go.

He was never going to let her go.

Dean was twenty-six when he realized she was going to break him in two. They were laying on his bed, her head on his chest, right arm placed just above his heart, legs tangled together as she traced imaginary patterns on his clothed pec. One of his arms were draped over her hip, holding her as if she was his lifeline.

Maybe she was.

“Sammy called this afternoon. He’s flying out tomorrow morning.” She whispered out of the blue, clutching at his shirt.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I know. He texted me.”

“We could have breakfast with him before he goes. I can even call Les so we can get together like we did in the good ol’ days.”

He sighed deeply.

“I don’t think I can…” he trailed off and she pressed a kiss to his collar-bone and squeezed his middle reassuringly, prompting him to go on. “He wants us to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She said tentitavely, cocking an eyebrow in question, and he knew she had absolutely no intention of making this easy for him.

“Well, I don’t do that, okay? I don’t talk about it or whatever. I just bottle shit up.”

She let out a small, breathless chuckle and perched herself on her elbow to look at him.

“How healthy.”

She was being a smartass now and he licked his lips and narrowed his eyes in a warning that would have terrified anyone else, but not her.

“Y/N-”

“He’s your brother.”

He gave a half-smile to that.

“I’m aware.”

Y/N sighed and glanced at the ceiling above them as if she was looking for guidance. When she looked at him again she was wearing her I-want-to-tell-you-you’re-an-ass-but-that’s-not-what-you-need-to-hear look.

“You both lost her.”

“You think I don’t know that? But I…” he ate the rest of the words, averting his gaze from hers. It was terrifying, how easily her eyes could get him to tell her everything. “Fuck, Y/N.” he cursed, scratching the back of his neck.

He didn’t expect her to reach out, but she did, cupping his face with her hands.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to keep it together for Sammy but I can’t. Mum was…” he paused, trying to keep his emotions in check but when he spoke again it was strained and broken. “She was always so amazing. To everyone. And what happened… I don’t…”

“Ssssh.” She soothed, crawling closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her proximity reassuring and comforting, familiar and needed. “I know.”

He took a shaky breath and squeezed her hip, pulling her closer.

“I miss her.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment and he closed his eyes and waited for some pitiful comment to leave her lips, but instead, she pulled away to look at him and gave him a smile, fragile but genuine.

“I know that too. But, we’ll figure it out. We always do, D.” she promised, running her fingers through his short hair gently, almost like his mother would have done. He smiled, soft but sad, and reached for her hand, pulling her on top of him again, letting her be his anchor for the night.

She sighed, nuzzling his chest in content and he couldn’t help but laugh and kiss the top of her head, his lips lingering longer than necessary.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he mumbled against her hair.

She laughed, a laugh that was airy but genuine, then pecked his chest.

“Crush and burn, I guess.”

Despite himself, he smirked and cupped her chin, forcing her to face him.

“I’m serious, princess.”

“Yeah, I’m not.” She confessed, smiling. “You’d be okay, D.” she added, kissing his forehead. She pulled away and, suddenly, a Cheshire smile was playing at the corners of her lips, eyes sparkling in mischief.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Wait right here.” She replied and untangled herself from him, getting out of bed. He wanted to complain at the sudden loss of warmth and contact but the sight of her wandering around in his room, in his old Zeppelin shirt, her legs and feet bare, and her hair in a messy ponytail, rendered him speechless.

God, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

He cleared his throat quietly.

“Um. What exactly are you doing?”

She looked up from the record player and grinned.

“I am tired of your pouty face.”

“I do not have-”

“Yes, you do. You have a pouty face. And I am tired of it. So, I’m going to cheer you up a bit. Since I’m, you know, such an amazing friend and all…” she argued and a few seconds later a familiar tune filled the room and she was waltzing towards him, head bobbing to the rhythm.

“C’mon, Winchester.” She chanted, reaching for his hand. “Dance with me.”

Despite himself, Dean chuckled.

“To Bob Seger?”

“Please. You love that dude.”

“You’re crazy.” He declared, getting up, but she only smiled her most beautiful smile and let her arms clamp around his neck, her body flush against his.

“I’m your kind of crazy, D.” she deadpanned and he smirked and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her warmth sip into his skin and her intoxicating scent, vanilla and coconuts, fill his senses.

He dropped a kiss on her hair.

“Yes.” He whispered, so low that she might have missed it. “Yes, you are.”

Dean was twenty-seven years old when he realized he would never have her. She was sitting at a bar stool a few feet away from him, deep into conversation with a blonde, blue-eyed douchebag and his heart clutched into his chest because she was smiling at him. Not with her I’m-just-trying-to-be-nice smile. No. She was smiling at him with her genuine smile -sly, loving, slightly cheeky, seductive- that smile she shot his way every time he did something to make her happy. She was smiling at Blue Eyes with his smile and it pissed him off.

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on the glass of whiskey and sighed.

“Are you ever going to tell her?”

The gruff voice took him by surprise and he turned around to find his younger brother looking at him with a brow raised in question, a bottle of beer in hand.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.” He replied flatly, his voice carefully ridden of all emotion, then brought the glass to his lips and drank, letting the alcohol burn down his throat.

“Right. Cause you so don’t have the hots for Y/N.” the hazel-eyed man scoffed and Dean almost choked on the amber liquid

“Have the hots? Seriously, dude? That’s… That’s just wrong…”

“Okay, chief. I’ll level with ya. All your kid brother’s saying is that instead of looking at that poor guy like you want to put him six feet under, you could just tell Butter Cup you’re in love with her.”

The green-eyed man ran a hand over his mouth, blinking in uncertainty.

“I’m not…” he stopped, mid-sentence, because of Sam’s bitch-face and Benny’s sarcastic smirk, then shook his head and scrunched up his nose, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “There’s no point.” He grumbled out at last.

“No poi- What do you mean there is no point?”

“I mean that she doesn’t feel the same way, Sammy. So, let’s just stow the touchy-feely, self-yoga crap and talk about something else. Okay?”

“No, man. Let’s talk about this. Because Y/N’s so in love with you she can’t even see straight.”

That caused Dean to laugh because the mere thought was just… laughable.

“No.” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. “She’s not.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean. That girl has been holding a torch for you her entire life. I mean, think about it. You were the only person ever allowed anywhere near her favorite teddy bear when you were kids. And she told her parents that she was the one that stole Leslie’s diary so that you wouldn’t get into trouble. And she’s the reason you became a mechanic because she said she wouldn’t-”

“Follow her dreams if I didn’t follow mine.” Dean cut him off, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I know, Sam. I know that for some messed up reason I’ll never be able to understand, she loves me. But not in the way I love her.”

And even if she does, she deserves better.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Whatever. Can we drop it now?”

“But-”

“I said drop it, Sam.” Dean growled, louder than he intended to.

“Chief. Your brother’s just trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t want your help. I’m fine.” He snapped, draining his drink.

The blue-eyed man took a deep breath, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

“No, brother. You’re not. Letting a girl like Y/N walk away doesn’t qualify as fine. It qualifies as batshit crazy.”

Benny’s words caught Dean off guard and for a moment, he just stared at him, his expression blank, mouth half open.

“Do you…” A pause, then a deep, yet shaky breath. “Are you in love with her?”

His friend laughed, amusement coating his features.

“No, chief. But I know great love when I see it and what you and Y/N have… That’s a one-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Wow, Benny. Didn’t know you were into Nicholas Sparks novels.”

His friend chuckled breathlessly, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just saying… Fight for her.” A shrug. “If anything, you got nothing to lose.”

Dean shook his head and turned to look at the girl that, through the years had become his entire world, only to find her laughing at something a co-worker had said, head thrown back and cheeks flushed, her smudged lipstick merely adding to his constant urge to kiss her.

“Except her.”

“That’s never gonna happen, Dean.” Sam interjected but his intervention was quickly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Soon enough, an attractive young woman with brown hair and beautiful brown eyes was standing in front of him, eyeing him expectantly.

“Hi.”

Dean smiled, acknowledging her with a nod of his head and a waggle of his fingers.

“Hi.” He repeated gruffly. “And you are?”

“Lisa. My name’s Lisa.” She said, voice a little unsteady, her cheeks pink.

“Well, Lisa. What can I do for you?”

“I… I know this sound ridiculous but I made a bet with my friends and I lost so would you… Would it be okay if I bought you a drink?” she asked, leaning closer while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The gesture reminded him of Y/N because it had always been a tell-tale sign of her nervousness and his eyes instinctively searched for her. She was still there, sitting next to Blue Eyes, but now his hand was on her arm, tracing random patterns and she was grinning, eyes radiant with happiness.

His heart dropped.

He took a deep breath and smirked at the woman in front of him, all charm and swagger now.

“How about I buy you a drink instead?”

She nodded and blushed but her cheeks didn’t turn that lovely color Y/N’s cheeks did and her smile wasn’t as bright.

He sighed and reached for his glass again.

Dean was twenty-eight years old when he realized he would give up anything for her. He was speeding down the all too familiar country lanes, heading back home with her for a high-school reunion when she’d sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

“What?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. “What was that for?”

“Nothing… I just… I missed this.” She admitted, pulling away from him, eyes focused on the dash in front of her.

“Missed what?”

“Us. The way we used to be, you know?” she asked, shrugging. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re still my best friend and heaven knows I’m incredibly thankful for that, but it’s different now… Back then, it used to be you and me against the world. No work, no drama, no boyfriends, no girlfriends. Just the two of us. And I just… I miss it sometimes.”

He sighed. He knew what she meant. He’d felt it too. They were not drifting apart per se, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Sure, he still saw her every day and they still laughed and did stupid things together but, at the same time, some things had changed completely. They no longer had sleepovers. She didn’t borrow his clothes anymore because Lisa didn’t like it. She stopped calling at the wee hours of the morning just to tell him she’d had a weird dream or that she’d remembered that one time they’d almost burnt down his house trying to make cookies.

And he hated that. God, he despised it. It was like she was letting go, slowly but surely, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it because he was the one who had chosen it. He’d chosen to be with Lisa. He’d chosen to put the distance between them because he needed to get over her.

And look how great this is working out for you, the voice in the back of his head said. Because no matter what had happened, he knew that he would give it all up, Lisa, his life in New York, his job, everything, just to be with her.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“I know what you mean, sweetheart. I feel it too sometimes. And I… Look, I want to apologize for being so focused on Lisa lately.”

“What? Hey, no, that’s okay…” she muttered, smiling softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I get it, D. I’m not saying I like it, because sometimes I don’t, but I get it. You two are together, she’s your priority now. Your girl.”

Dean felt his stomach churn. Her words hurt him more than any flesh-cutting knife ever would.

“That’s not true. She might be a priority but that doesn’t mean you’re not. You’re… Cherry pie, you’re everything to me. And my girl? You are my girl. Have been since that day we met at that terrible playground.” He explained, tightening his grip around her wrist.

She laughed at the memory, her laugh sweet and warm and exactly what he needed at that moment.

“Gee, I still remember your puzzled face when I told you we could meet again.” She chuckled. “Like on a date? I don’t know!” she mimicked him, throwing her head back. “As if I’d ever want to date your juvenile ass!”

“Hey, I was quite the heartbreaker back then. I thought you were hitting on me.”

“We were five, Dean.”

“I was hot for a five-year-old, alright?” he deadpanned, causing her to laugh even harder, the sound better than all those classic rock songs he loved so much.

“Whatever you say, dumbass.”

“I still came to our playdate though, didn’t I?”

“You came on Tuesday. We had agreed to meet on Wednesday.”

“Details. You were there anyway.” He declared, winking at her.

“Because I knew you’d mix the days up! I missed an episode of Scooby Doo for you.”

“Aw, you poor thing.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement but he could still see the smile trying to break through.

“Jerk.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” he beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, laughing genuinely as she pushed him away. “Love you too…” he repeated, lower this time, eyes focused on the road in front of him.

If only you knew how much...

Dean was almost twenty-nine years old when she finally broke his heart. He was standing in an empty room, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, ready to take one of the biggest steps in his life and all he could think about was her.

He was worried because she was running late but didn’t dare admit it. He knew everyone would make fun of him for being so overprotective. If anything, she wasn’t such a big fan of his plan.

He wasn’t either.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Sammy popped his head inside, smiling charmingly at him.

“Ready, man?”

Dean sighed, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair.

“As I’ll ever be.”

His little brother nodded, something heavy settling over his features.

“She here yet?”

“Nope. But Benny called her. Said she’s stuck in traffic.” A pause. “She’ll be here, Dean. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The hazel-eyed man looked at him for a minute, seemingly thinking about something, then agreed with a nod of his head.

“Almost forgot. This…” he said, pulling out a blue envelope from his suit jacket “…came for you.”

Dean eyed the colored paper curiously, raising his eyebrows. And then he saw her letters in the middle of the folded paper.

“Give me a minute, Sammy.”

“Sure thing. Just don’t be late.”

Dean hummed in agreement and when his younger brother was gone, he unfolded the paper gingerly. A necklace fell from the envelope.

He recognized it immediately. It was a locket he’d bought for her twenty-sixth birthday, with a picture of them in graduation night. She’s smiled and tore up when he’d given it to her, then jumped on him, hugging him like she was trying to put all his broken pieces back together. She had been wearing it ever since.

His fingers caressed the chain for several minutes, and then, with slightly shaking hands, he reached for the letter.

My dearest Dean,

Do you remember those afternoons we used to spend under a tree during primary school, wondering what our life would be like when we grow up? I do, and not a day goes by that I don’t laugh at how naïve we were back then, when our early thirties seemed like something that would probably never happen, something impossible to conceive.

We were always together growing up, Dean, and you have been the best best-friend I could ever ask for. When we started primary school and our classmates made fun of me because I was smart, you stood by me and threatened to punch the next person that would even dare look at me sideways. And nobody ever dared bothering me again because, God, Dean, you can be so intimidating when you want to. When I sixteen and my dad had a heart attack and almost didn’t make it you held me in your arms while I sobbed and promised me that everything was going to be alright. I didn’t know it then, but it was everything I needed to hear.

And when I got into that car accident almost a year later, you were there for me in a way that made my heart ache with love and affection. You can’t even begin to fathom what a relief it was to open my eyes and see you next to me that day, Dean. I was so scared, so worried that I would never be okay again but somehow you turned that around for me. I could never thank you enough for what you did for me back then. You took care of me, you made me feel safe again and you spent every single afternoon at my room for two whole months, even though I am sure you had far more interesting things to do and way more attractive girls to keep company to.

You have stood by me, Dean, through thick and thin, and that’s why what I’m about to do is the most difficult thing I have ever done. But I have to do it.

For I am not as great as you believe, my friend, and I have never been. In fact, I have never been entirely honest with you. I do love you, Dean, with every single beat of my heart, but I do not love you as a brother or a friend. I do not love you in the same way I love Leslie or Sam. I love you with a kind of love that makes me feel alive every time you even look at me. And I can’t remember a moment in my life when that wasn’t the case.

It’s impossible for someone to meet you and not fall in love with you, D. You are everything a man should be. Loving. Righteous. Caring. Smart. Loyal. Kind. Brave. Strong. Selfless. And yes, you I know you’re about to say you’re not perfect but nobody is, D.

I’m sorry I can’t be there for your marriage, I’m sorry I can’t be the best friend you deserve, I’m sorry I can’t be your best woman like I promised I would. I did try, Dean, God knows I tried but some things are beyond us.

I’m not sure whether this is a “goodbye” or a “see you later”. I guess this is entirely up to you now. If you don’t want to see me again, then I understand. I won’t try to contact you, albeit I will think about you every single day and hope that you’ll be doing just fine.

If you ever think you can forgive me though and are willing to put all of this behind us and give our friendship another chance, then I am willing to do that as well. I won’t be a stranger if you don’t want me to be.

I know I’ve messed up, Dean, and what happens to us from now on is on me. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that one day you’ll be able to forgive me and we’ll be reunited again, if only just to talk about the good old days, when it used to be just the two of us against the world.

Either way I will always be a friend to you, D. Always. No matter where in the world we might be or who we will be with, you will be in my heart’s core forever and I will always wholly and stupidly love you.

Stay safe and take care of yourself. And be happy, Dean. That’s all I want for you. That’s what I’ve always wanted. Be happy with Lisa and have children and live the white picket fence life you have always wanted, but never dared to admit out loud. And when you go back to Lawrence and gaze upon the stars from the hood of the Impala like we used to do as kids, please know that your best friend, even if she is in the other side of the world, thinks about you and thanks you for everything you have done for her.

Forever and ever,

Y/N.

The paper fell from his hands as his heart broke into millions of pieces.

Y/N had always been his.

And he had let her slip right through his fingers.

A/N: Read part two here

The Promise Tags: @pickupthatamulet @tiny-friggin-human

Forever Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @ravengirl94 @impala-dreamer @wordstothewisereaders @becs-bunker @imagining-supernatural @sgarrett49

If you’re like this for some reason I couldn’t tag you, I’m really sorry.

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just-another-busy-fangirl · 8 years ago

Text

Nerdy

This is my entry for @luci-in-trenchcoats‘s 2K Follower Challenge. My prompt was #36 “I don’t see half the nerdy stuff that you do, it doesn’t mean that you don’t do nerdy stuff.“

Summary: Dean decides to make fun of you for being a nerd.

warnings: none, just making fun of nerdiness and nerd defense

word count: ~700

“God, Y/N, you’re such a nerd,” Dean teased as he walked into the library, poking at your ‘select your spaceship’ t-shirt.

You rolled your eyes, not really in the mood for his teasing today. “Yeah, yeah, whatever Dean.”

You were busy researching your current case with a whole table full of books and scrolls laid out in front of you, and of course Dean wasn’t helping with the research at all. Sam had left you about an hour ago to go downstairs into the depths of the bunker, chasing after a book he swears he saw down there, so you were working all alone at the moment.

After years of bickering, Dean knew just how he could push your buttons while the two of you were alone. He picked on you all the time, but it was worse with no Sam to be the buffer between the two of you during your arguments.

“Seriously, who would wear this shirt?” Dean continued, sitting down and obviously enjoying annoying you. “Not even Sammy wears nerdy stuff like this, and he’s pretty solidly on the nerd scale.”

You didn’t respond, hoping that Dean would just let it go and allow you to work in peace. During your silence, he looked at the table in front of him, picking up a few papers to glance at them before putting them down. He sighed loudly when you didn’t acknowledge him, before continuing to speak.

“You’ve got those posters in your room, too. Firefly, Buffy, all those little doll things. Why even spend the money on it all? It’s just taking up space that you could keep things that are actually useful, and time that you could be doing other things, and money that you could be spending elsewise.”

You still didn’t respond, but felt a clench of anger boiling in your gut. Dean was going too far and you had a feeling that he knew it, but you also knew that he wouldn’t stop until you talked back or gave in to his teasing, which you didn’t particularly want to give him the satisfaction of doing.

He rambled on about your nerdiness some more, how lame you were, and how he thought it was all for nothing. You did your best to keep ignoring him, but finally, you had had enough.

“Dean, would you shut up?” you practically shouted, eyes locking on his. “I don’t see half the nerdy stuff that you do, but it doesn’t mean that you don’t do nerdy stuff, too.”

“Pfft,” Dean scoffed at you, rolling his eyes. “I don’t do nerdy stuff, Y/N.”

You chuckled, having pressed a button on the man who had been pressing your buttons practically the entire time you’d known him. “Of course you do, Dean. You go LARPing with Charlie. You helped Kevin study for his tests when he went back to school. You are a moderator for that online chat room…”

“Hey!” Dean interrupted you. “That’s not nerdy – that’s about guns and ammo!”

You laughed at his defense of himself. “Dean, when someone goes into in-depth conversations about the particulars about any topic, it edges on nerdy. You can be a nerd about anything, from Star Trek to AK-47’s.”

You set the book you were holding down on the table, facing Dean straight. “Yes, I am a nerd. The things that I am nerdy about – tv shows, books, movies, games – make me happy and help me control my anxiety. Is that something that you want to make fun of me for?” You paused, watching Dean’s expressions on his face carefully. “If you decide to make fun of me, then I have every right to poke fun at you and your chat rooms.”

Seeing that Dean wasn’t forming a reply to your explanation, you turned back to your books. You had just gotten back in the research zone before he spoke.

“Okay, truce.”

You looked up and saw sincerity on Dean’s face. You nodded, accepting his truce calmly, before returning to your books once again.

Another minute went by.

“So…” Dean spoke again. “Want to introduce me to some of your nerdy things, so that we can be nerdy together?”

You smiled at Dean, knowing exactly what you would start with. “Shiny.”

Forever Tag

@adaliamalfoy @angelus320 @atc74 @attractiverandomness @ayeeitsemry @borky-barnes-pls @bulletscrossbowpie @chelsea072498 @chloeaacole @cosmicpeanuthologram @deanswhiskeyveins @demondeansdomme @fandommaniacx @fangirl1802 @feelmyroarrrr @freefood45 @fuckyeahfeysand @holahellohialoha @iamnotsaneatall @its-my-perky-nipples @jalove-wecallhimdean @jotink78 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @katymacsupernatural @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @lakama15 @marasficrecs @mestiza003 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @mrstheorossix3 @my-angel-with-a-shotgun @nadiandreu7 @notnaturalanahi @remybosslika @sandlee44 @skybinx-blog @sleep-silent-angel @slightlysoftgrunge @smoothdogsgirl @spn--princess @spontaneousam @too-much-winchester @whispersandwhiskerburn

Dean Tag

@anokhi07 @avasmommy224 @clintonvillegirl @falling-for-fandoms @lipstickandwhiskey @nightchanges25-blog @pandacanttype @plaidshirtsandmetalarms @winsmut

#michelle's 2k follower challenge #luci-in-trenchcoats #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic

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demondeanismybaby · 8 years ago

Text

Another Girl That isn’t Me

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean

Word Count: 1800

Summary: Set during season 8, Sam tells you that he is thinking of quitting the hunting life and you are struggling to tell him how you really feel.

Warnings: All the angst, unrequited love

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats , Michelle’s 2k follower Challenge, my prompt was to use the quote “I guess, I’m wondering, how someone quits one life for something completely different.” I decided to go with some good ol’ season 8 angst.

You flung yourself out of the rental car as fast as your legs would let you. It didn’t even matter that the wheels were still rolling slightly as you hopped out. Tearing across the gravel your head was focused on the one point in this whole town that you actually recognized. Funny how it was almost identical to the place you knew in too many similar small nowhere towns. You didn’t pause for a second in your movements because you knew that the man who had been driving would come after you.

Get to the room, your mind repeated, get to the room. You were trying to quash your feelings down with an overwhelming force, this wasn’t how you wanted to lose it. Screaming, in some shitty motel parking lot, this was obviously a discussion meant for privacy. Jamming the key into the lock as hard as possible, ignoring the harsh scrape and grind you heard, you jimmied it open. Walking through the threshold you slammed the door behind you as quickly as you could, you noticed how it thudded against what you hoped was his face, but you didn’t bother turning around. Apparently, his long strides were making it easy for him to match your frantic pace.

Your shoulders were clenched up by your ears, and your neck was straining, it was the posture of someone who was ready to fight. You knew it well because you had watched it in other hunters right before the kill, but the man behind you now wasn’t a monster, you partly wondered in the distant corners of your mind, if that wasn’t part of the problem.

When those long fingers wrapped around your upper arm, you couldn’t help the way that your body recoiled from him, and the shiver it sent through you had him releasing you in a heartbeat.

“Please, just talk to me.” His tone was just mellow enough it had you compelled to face him.

“I guess, I’m wondering, how someone quits one life for something completely different.” You couldn’t keep the sarcastic edge from biting through your words.

He clearly wanted to talk, so you figured why not get straight to the point. He always wanted to give you a million excuses and details into his reasoning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care. Right now you were being told yet again that the Winchester you just got back into your life, after spending a year without him, was getting ready to walk out on you again. Watching his eyes fall sharply to the floor, refusing to match your hard stare you knew that not even he had the answer.

“Sam, just tell me why you can’t accept what you are?”

“This isn’t the life I want,” he spoke in the direction of the carpet so you strained to hear him, “you and Dean you love this life, but all I ever wanted was a normal one.”

A moment of relief washed through you that at least his brother wasn’t here to witness this happening, Dean had been off ever since he found out his little brother had left him to rot in purgatory, all because some chick had come along. You knew that it was partly your fault, the older Winchester was angry in the first place because he knew you had feelings for Sam but it wasn’t fair to blame him for moving on when you couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him how you felt. At least, it was a small mercy Sam was doing this here and now instead of usual Winchester fashion in the middle of a life and death case. And, to have one less pissed off person in the tiny enclosed space. It didn’t seem like there was enough room to house all the anger here.

Your eyes cast around the room, trying to fixate on something besides the dejected man with his slumped shoulders and slightly hitching chest, trying to ground yourself in the moment and not vanish to someplace far away inside your mind. There were the two matching beds, one was left wrinkled and the pillows were thrown towards the center haphazardly, while the other looked hardly slept in. It was funny just how different the two boys were. Brothers though they might be.

Then there was the couch, it had a blanket draped over the arm and a tiny square cushion propped up in the corner, it had been your bed for the night. When Sam had called you, as you checked the voicemail, you noticed even then a certain amount of surprise. Dean was always the one who liked to drag you into a case, his little brother hardly even seemed to acknowledge your existence even when you were shoulder to shoulder fighting together. When you showed up Sam told you his brother had gone out, most likely for a drink and to dig up some intel, shrugging your shoulders you didn’t think on the oddness and you had bunked down for the night, ready to wake up early and get started on the case.

After a restless and uncomfortable night, you had awoken to a steaming cup of coffee and a mess of brown hair and soft eyes greeting you, he had asked if you could go with him for a drive to check something out. It had all been part of his plan, to get you into the vehicle where when he started his tangent on hunting and Amelia and what it meant to be on his own, you couldn’t escape the words.

Of course, there hadn’t been any monsters, just two boys bickering with each other incessantly. Now, here he was trying to drag you into the middle. A place that you hated to be and that was where the anger came from. The sadness, it was all this other woman, the one that he could so easily picture himself running away with but not you, never you. You wished that he could look at you right here in this crappy motel and see past the disguise you wore around him so that he could know that you would stop hunting monsters today if it meant that you could be the one to run with him.

When his hand reached to yours, you let him wind his fingers against yours, and you tried not to squeeze too hard against him in your frustration. The act was something comforting towards a sibling, not the act of a lover desperate to touch.

“I wanted to tell you, I didn’t want it to be like before,” again with his explanations.

“Ok, but just so you know this is it for me too,” and your eyes shot daggers in his direction, “I don’t want to hear from you again after I walk out of this room.” You let your hand drop from his.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, we can be friends now, talk and get to know each other.”

You couldn’t help the instinctive role of your eyes, it wasn’t just unlikely you would ever see Sam again if he truly gave up hunting. If he was busy living some apple pie life with Amelia you would make sure you never had to witness it yourself. Let him make friends with some other girl in his perfect green lawned neighborhood, one with a husband and a child, not you who wanted nothing more than to be the one he curled up next to at night.

You felt a scream building in the center of your chest, you wanted to pull a Dean, to yell and smash everything in the room around you. Instead, your body stood completely still, like the warring emotions inside you were crashing so hard together that your body couldn’t keep up. You tried to focus on just one action, something tiny that might be an indicator to him of how you really felt, deep down beneath the bubbling fury. The desire to want to hold him close and have him be the one to comfort you.

You brushed your index finger against the outside of his arm, tracing it lightly on his bicep but then you hesitated and dropped it back to your side, it was too hard trying to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Being this open it could destroy you, if this is how it felt like with him leaving, having him actually reject you would be so much worse.

Now his own anger was building, you could see it in the way his eyes sharpened as they turned back to your own. There was a new harshness there and you realized that you had failed miserably in this whole effort with him.

“Well, I can’t make you accept this, but once we find Kevin that’s it for me.”

You wanted to give him something to leave on, “why don’t you just go now, me and Dean will take care of it, just like we always do.”

It worked just as well as you had expected. The door was slammed again but this time it was so furious it rattled the whole frame, you were sure you heard glass shaking in the window in the room next to you. There were the phantom footsteps crunching along the gravel outside and then the little rental cars engine was revving and peeling out into the distance.

Sitting back down on the couch you pull the blanket around your knees and started to let go. Your sobs were shaking your whole frame. It was like the tears that you had held in that room would never dry up, stinging your cheeks and burning your nose, choking you with their hot weight against your face. You let the scream come now burying your head against the arm of the dingy fabric to muffle the sound. It tore up from the pit of your chest and sounded more like an animals howl than a noise made by anything human.

You stayed like that crippled in agony of being left alone in love, not even able to tell the man how you felt about him, for what seemed like hours. The room had an old style clock that was ticking by every second of your pain and amplified the sound of just how alone you were, just your cries and the dull tick to accompany you.

You heard the door open and tried your best to wipe a hand over your puffy face, even though you doubted very much that it would do any good to erase what had been going on. As you spun your head defiantly towards the light pouring in from outside you couldn’t help the way your face fell again.

“Hiya Dean.”

“So I’m guessing you talked to Sam?”

#michelle's 2k follower challenge #sam x reader #sam x you #spn fanfiction #spn angst #sam winchester #spn #my writing

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unnatural-humanity · 7 years ago

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Advertisement of my Life Part 9

Summary: Just smut. Not much plot.

Genre: smut, fluff

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Tom and Shep, Jared’s mother

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Word Count: around 800 Words (shorter than usual, I know)

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), hint of shower sex

A/N: Jared and Gen are divorced (nothing against Gen, I love her, I just couldn't find different reason)

Tags: @pretty-fortune @smoothdogsgirl

New Year - 2016 to 2017

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE!” Laughing I bounced little Shep on my hip, turning around to kiss Jared for the first time in 2017.

“Happy New Year darling”, he mumbled against my lips.

“Happy New Year you too”

“Champagne!” Jared’s mother interrupted us suddenly. Giggling we parted and I took my flute.

“Not for you Jared! You have to drive!”, Sharon stated. Right behind her Tom came racing to his father.

“Daddy! Lift me up!”, Tom demanded, stretching his arms into the air, “I wanna see the fireworks!” Not able to resist, Jared put his glass down and lifted his eldest son up to his shoulders.

We spend the rest of the evening at the house of Jared’s parents. It was already planned, that the boys would stay for the night, giving us a little ‘alone time’.

“Night daddy! Night Lizzy!” Tom waved us goodbye from his pillow fort.

“Night sweetheart!”, Jared cooed with a low voice.

“Nighty Tom!”

During the whole drive back to our home Jared had placed his Hand on my thigh slowly creeping up, squeezing it now and then.

“God! I’ve forgotten how a tease you could be!”, I giggled, cheeks were flushed from alcohol and expectation.

Finally, we pulled up the driveway and as soon as the car had stopped, we both made your way to the bedroom. Losing our clothing on the way up. Breathless I stood in front him, naked and deeply aroused, though my arousal wasn’t as visible as Jared’s, his massive cock standing straight up, nearly touching his stomach. Suddenly he jerked forward and grabbed me by my hips and threw me on the bed.

“Today we don’t have to be silent”, he moaned into my ear. Now I was literally dripping, I tried to ease the ache in my core with rubbing my legs together, creating friction.

“Oh no. Not today darling!”, he grunted, nibbling on my earlobe. He moved his hips so, that the tip of his cock was slightly brushing over my clit. He then leaned forward, grabbed the padded handcuffs out of the night drawer and cuffed my wrists to the headboard.

“Jared! Please!”, I whimpered, bucking my hips, pulling at the restraints.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?”, he asked me lips ghosting over mine, “This?” A soft peck on the lips. “Or this?” I gasped as his finger slightly rubbed my clit, making me squirm. “What about this?” He took one of my nipple between his lips and sucked. “What do you want me to do, darling?“

“Everything!”, I groaned.

“Everything you say? So let’s start with this?” And then he began to kiss me. Our tongues played with each other, always staying slightly out of range. One of his hands held him up but the other one roamed over my body. Mapping it out, just stopping to squeeze my breast or my ass. Finally, his hand came to rest over my cunt, fingers wandering over my mound teasingly.

“Jared! Please fuck me already!” I arched my back, trying to get more of him.

“You’re beautiful when you beg like that”, he chuckled and slowly dipped two fingers in my pussy, “Jesus, you are wet. I would be a shame if all that juice would all go to waste”, he hummed against my lips. With feathery kisses he drifted down my body, stopping at my breast, twirling my nipples and pinching them drawing a little whimper of my lips. Finally, he stopped at my aching pussy.

“You smell marvelous women. I bet you taste even better.” Without a proper warning, he buried himself between my folds. Licking, nibbling and kissing he brought me several times near my orgasm.

“Jared! Please!”

“Please what? Tell me what you need!”

“Fuck me! Let me come!”

“That's what I wanted to hear. Good girl!” With a swift motion, he pushed three fingers in me curling them up so the hit my g-spot perfectly. Finally, with a big stream of curse words, I came all over his hand, screaming his name. Grunting he worked me through my first orgasm of the night.

Exhausted I grinned at him.

“That was the best sex I had for a while!” Exhausted I grinned at him. Panting, I propped myself up to look at him. Beads of sweat were trickling down his temple and just for once his hair were a mess. I was pretty sure I looked equally tousled, but as my eyes meet his, I noticed he was staring at me.

“Do have something on my face?”

“No. You’re just- You look perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too Jared. But we might want to clean up.” I stood up and made my way to the bathroom, still butt naked, “You coming?” As I turned around, I caught him staring at my butt and crawling out of bed.

“You’re an ass, Jared Padalecki.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ass!” He threw me over his shoulder and smacked my ass.

“Another round?” I asked cockily. Without answering he placed me in the shower and began to kiss me passionately while turning on the showerhead.

#jared x reader #Jared Padalecki #supernatural #unnatural-humanity #Michelle's 2K Follower Challenge #smut #fluff

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criminallysupernatural · 8 years ago

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Together

Title: Together

Summary: You’ve been trying to hid from Sam and Dean, but things have taken a dark turn.

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower Challenge! Thank you so much for letting partake and CONGRATS! You deserve the world!

Prompt: We’re better together than we are apart.

Warnings: Violence

Sam’s phone began ringing on the nightstand. He didn’t recognize the number, but he had a feeling it was you. You were the only one who called so early in the morning. It was the only way to be sure that Dean wouldn’t overhear your conversation.

“Sam?” Your voice came over the phone.

“It’s me, Y/N.”

You could hear the sleep in his voice.

“Look, I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here, but I need your help. Someone… I think someone is coming after me.” Your voice was trembling and you couldn’t quite get a hold of yourself.

“Just… uh, can you turn on the location on your phone?” He walked back into the hotel room and began pulling his stuff together, trying to not wake Dean.

“Yeah, I can do that.” You looked around and heard footsteps. “Just please hurry, Sam. And Sam?”

“I know. Don’t bring Dean.”

The call was disconnected.

You sat inside the abandoned warehouse, cold and hungry. The phone you had found only had minimal battery left and you were praying that he would make it to you soon. You heard a door open and close somewhere in the warehouse. You stood up and slid the phone into your back pocket. You pulled your blade out from your boot and started walking towards the stairwell.

“Y/N.”

Sam. Sam was here.

“Sam?” You started running down the stairs.

Only, this wasn’t Sam. No, this was a demon able to mimic his voice. You turned around quickly, running back up the stairs, when the demon grabbed your foot.

“Not so fast, Y/N.” He smiled and pulled you down the stairs. “You can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You sighed and raised your hands up. He helped you to your feet and began dragging you to the first floor.

He tied you up, nice and tight. Your brain was moving a million miles a minute, trying to figure a way out.

“You won’t get away with this.” You gritted.

“You think I can’t take a couple of Winchesters?” He smirked.

“Winchesters?” Your eyes were wide.

“You didn’t think little Deanie would let Sammy come all this way all by himself, did you?”

“You did this?” Your eyes began to tear up. “This is a trap!” You struggled against the restraints.

“Such a smart girl.” He picked up your chin. “But very, very weak. Calling Sam when you needed help. You’ve been trying to protect them this whole time and now, you’re bringing them to me.”

The demon exited the room and you tried to stand up. If you could throw yourself down, you could possibly break the chair. You tried to stand and throw yourself down, but you couldn’t get enough leverage. Finally, you feel one of the legs give, so you try one more time. Sure enough, the chair gives out.

You run towards the doorway and you wait. As the demon walks in, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump on his back. You struggled against each other as he slammed you against the wall. You held on tightly and you both tumbled to the ground. He reached around and pulled a blade from his pocket. He sliced your leg enough that you let go in pain.

You kicked him in the face and reached for his blade. You pulled in from him and slit his throat. You slid yourself back against a wall, gripping the blade so tightly your knuckles were white. You were losing blood rapidly and you were starting to feel tired. The world was slowly becoming black, when you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Back off.” You said weakly. You heard mumbling, but it was incoherent. “Get away.” Hands were grabbing you.

When you finally awoke, you smelled a familiar scent. Leather. Whiskey. Dean.

“Dean?” Your voice was hoarse.

“Hey, Princess.” He rubbed your arm.

“You let Sammy drive?” You tried to sit up.

“Yes, and you need to lay down.” He held you down against the seat.

“I asked him not to bring you.” You sighed.

“I know, but guess what? You can’t hide from me, sweetheart.” He kissed your hand. “We’re better together than we are apart. I couldn’t stay away from you.”

“I love you.” You pulled him closer.

“I love you too.” He wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t ever do that again.”

#Michelle's 2k Follower Challenge #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean #dean x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 8 years ago

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Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge

Hi guys! I wanted to say THANK YOU all so much for helping me hit 2K followers this past week! I still can’t believe that you come by to read what this little blog puts out there. It’s been truly amazing and I wanted to celebrate with my first writing challenge! Feel free to share with any other writers you know out there :)

RULES:

1. You must pick one of the below quotes to use somewhere in your fic (more on that in the “How to Participate”).

2. Any pairing is acceptable (including actors). You can do reader inserts, ships, whatever you want.

3. Any genre is acceptable (fluff, angst, smut). You can keep it in the SPN world or do an AU, it’s all up to you. Be sure to appropriately label in your warnings or Author note’s though :)

4. Minimum word count: 500. Maximum: 10K. Imagines, one shots, series, everything is acceptable. Remember to use the “Keep Reading” function for your longer fics.

5. Fics will be due by Friday, April 7th Friday, April 21.

6. Please put Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge within your first five tags so I can reblog and comment. In the Author’s note, tag me and mention the challenge so I can find it.

*It’s not necessary to be following me but you can if you want :)

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:

Send me an ask in my inbox (no comments or messages as it’s too hard to track) with the following:

-The number of your first and second choices for a quote (below the cut) in the event the first one is taken. You must include this quote somewhere in your fic and can be said by whoever you want.

I’ll update the list as quotes are taken and who has them. As fics come in I’ll make a masterlist with links for everyone.

QUOTES/FICS:

All I Ask - @paigeinastory “Can I get you without the flannel?”

2. “We're not winning. We're just losing slow.” - @team-free-writings

3. “At least I don't look like a lumberjack.” - @butiaintgonnaloveem

You’re Cute When You’re Scared - @xfanqirlinq “Maybe let’s not touch anything until we figure out if this stuff wants to kill us or not.”

5. “Maybe we should focus more on the case and less on the Dr. Phil crap.” - @carry-on-my-wayward-son2-5-24-1

Choices-Part 1 - @ladyserethiel “This is exactly how we screw ourselves. We make the heart choice instead of the smart choice.”

7. “I'm going to come back for you. I promise.” - @blog12315

The Pyre pt 4 - @mamaredd123 “No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding.”

Siren’s Song - @deanwinchestergirlalltheway “Person A: Be safe. Person B: When am I not?”

Dad Bod - @winchester-smut “What's a dad bod?”

11.”I'm a Winchester. I hunt monsters.” - @docharleythegeekqueen

Let Me Love You - @evansrogerskitten “What can I say. Chicks dig me.”

13. “We’re far from perfect. But we are good.” - @deansplaidandwhiskey

The Eyes Are Windows - @bcr36 “I'll keep fighting. I'll keep swinging til I got nothing left.”

15. “Someone just tell me she's going to be ok.” - @hollygopossum

Every Moment - @imagineteamfreewill “I'm tired of fighting.”

Together - @criminallysupernatural “We're better together than we are apart.”

18. “And you call yourselves nerds." - @indominusregina

Sneaking Around - @supernatural-jackles “If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back."

Another Girl That Isn’t Me - @buffylovesfoxmulder “I guess I'm wondering how someone quits one life for something completely different."

It’s About Damn Time - @eyes-of-a-disney-princess “Wanna try that again like you mean it?"

22. “Dean is in trouble." - @aliciangel865

Stupid In Love - @multifandommesses “I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be."

The Promise - @deanssweetheart23 “We'll figure it out. We always do."

25. “You pulled a Dean Winchester." - @inmysparetime0

4 AM - @thing-you-do-with-that-thing “You're gonna tell me everything."

27. “Come on in darling, the water's warm." - @helvonasche

The Advertisement of My Life - @dont-trust-humanity “What she said.”

29. “Rules? Like sexy rules?" - @thewayward-winchester

31. “I'm a man of my word." - @love-me-winchester

Not Telling Him - @creatively-charlie “Trust me here, secrets ruin relationships."

Drunken Mistakes - @theas-bedtime-stories “Your problem is that nobody hates you more than you do."

Abandoned - @impalapiegirl67 “You never give up on family. Ever."

Time Heals All - @hanny-writes-spn “I guess because every woman I've ever had relations with it hasn't ended well.”

Nerdy - @just-another-busy-fangirl “I don’t see half the nerdy stuff that you do, it doesn’t mean that you don’t do nerdy stuff."

In The Name Of The Father - @roxy-davenport “You give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas."

38. “There ain't no me if there ain't no you." - @babi-correia

39. “She can stay the night." - @deanwinchesterforpromqueen

45. “This isn't the men's room." - @attractiverandomness

Baby - @quiddy-writes “New rule. You steal my Baby, you get punched."

Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover Part 1 - @flufy07 “Whoa, this one's got a little bit of a wild side."

My Instincts Run My Actions - @boredoutofmymindwriting “Fake it 'til you make it."

Season 7, Time for a Wedding - @effie-w “Of course I didn't leave it alone. Sue me.”

Phone Numbers - @alangel1895 “It's like chicks specifically dig unavailable guys."

Enjoy yourselves!

#Michelle's 2K Follower Challenge #supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #cas x reader #smut #angst #fluff #supernatural au #spn au #reader insert #writing challenge

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cajunquandary · 8 years ago

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THE EYES ARE WINDOWS (Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge)

Pairing/Characters: Eventual Dean x Reader, Sam, mentions of Benny

Word Count: 5400

Warnings: Alcohol use, flashbacks to implied rape and torture, mentions of PTSD, canon level violence, light cursing, mention of Alzheimer’s.

Prompt: “I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left.”

Summary: Dean Winchester begins to investigate a strange case in a small town in Louisiana, meeting a local hunter. Expecting a simple salt-and-burn or demon, the actual culprit was not what the local hunter could have prepared for.

A/N: This is for Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge, @luci-in-trenchcoats. If any of the above triggers affect you, PLEASE, please don’t read this. It’s not too angst-y and ends with lots o’ fluffy goodness.

(Not my gif)

Louis and Christine’s was especially packed, even for a Thursday night in the college town. You shouldn’t have been surprised—fraternity guys and coeds loved $2 shots as much as any hunter. You quickly secured one of the two high-top tables left for yourself and your research. Halfway through your double whiskey on the rocks, you hardly noticed the din from chanting students or the scruffy looking man who had slid into the opposite seat. Last week, Alexandria had a mysterious string of deaths that you were sure was the aftermath of voodoo performed by an angry civilian. Pretty run of the mill for Louisiana, and nothing you hadn’t come across before. In fact, I’d be damned if it wasn’t little old Miss Maxine Martin causing trouble for the nursing home again. Alzheimer’s is difficult for anyone, but when those who spent their lives dabbling in voodoo develop it…

“So are you going to sit there and ignore me all night? What’s a pretty little girl like you doing reading that crap anyway?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as the gravelly voice caught your attention, shutting the laptop and stowing the newspapers with it.

“That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink?” You leaned back in your chair, finished the whiskey, and folded your arms. He motioned for another round, then leaned back mirroring your body language.

“You still didn’t answer my question. What’s a girl like you doing reading about voodoo in a place like this?” His lips remained turned up in a smug, flirty fashion, green eyes glinting in the dull light of the bar. Freckles faintly littered his nose and cheeks. You wondered how many were…wait, what was his question? “I see we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Dean. Winchester.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You leaned forward, thanking the waitress for your fresh drink. After a moment, you recalled why the name sounded so familiar—Dean Winchester, a legend among hunters—and smiled. Having only met a few other hunters in your brief time in the life and being a sucker for their stories, to hear some from a legend was an opportunity that left you giddy.

Several hours and many drinks later, you and Dean had become familiar with the scariest, funniest, and most bizarre hunts you’d been on, and briefly discussed your families.

“So, Y/N, what made you start hunting?” You always hated that question. It was a long and painful story, best left untold to other hunters. There was a reason you hunted alone. Well, not completely alone.

“Hey Y/N, I see ya found a nice beau, but we closed an hour ago, cher. Do you need me to walk ya home?” Everette, the bartender and a friend of yours, gratefully interrupted, while giving Dean the classic ‘stink eye.’

“No, thank you, Ev’, we were just leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” you smiled and slid not-so-gracefully from your seat. After a quick hug and polite nod toward Dean, he walked away to finish closing up.

“Mind if I walk you home?” Dean asked, taking your arm in his.

“Not at all.”

The walk was not too far to your simple little apartment, and you discovered along the way that Dean was in town for a string of recent suicides that had been kept from the news. Apparently they were all young men in their twenties and thirties. Some had grown up here, like you, and others were just passing through, but all walked themselves miles to the outskirts of town to an old farm house that had been abandoned twenty some odd years ago. He had already spoken to the former owners who said nothing weird ever happened while they were there, and only left because they couldn’t afford the mortgage anymore. Since then, the home and land had been in the bank’s possession and had never been resold. “What’s been weird is that none of the locals want to talk about the house. There’s more to this, but I can’t find it.”

“Where exactly is this house, Dean,” afraid you already knew the answer. You wiggled your apartment’s key into the lock until the door was freed. Normally this took a few minutes of wrestling and bargaining with the door, but you were thankful that this time it gave easily. Your spine was crawling and every hair on your body was standing on end in anticipation of his answer.

“Cute place.” Dean looked around and found the bathroom, unaware of your shaking hands closing and double locking the door. “Mind if I..?” he pointed towards the bathroom. You nodded, and he slipped away. Not but a moment later, Dean burst out of the bathroom and tripped on the mat. “Did you—uh—do you know you have a pluming problem? The sink just shot water out of the side at me while—um—never mind. Not important.” Dean’s eyes cast downward, his face flushed and sporting a sheepish grin.

Laughing and allowing some of the tension to leave your shoulders, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and pick up the silver pocket knife you’d accidentally left behind, placing it protectively in your pocket. Dean laughed as well, and flopped into your armchair.

Picking up where he left off, Dean replied, “The house is on Magnolia Way, right off of the highway, close to campus.”

Silence flooded the room, like molasses suspending everything in place. Dean tried to read your face, but you didn’t notice, staring out the window and into another life, a painful memory. The icemaker in the fridge released all of its contents onto the kitchen floor before you could get pulled too far away and you jumped up to clean it, Dean helping to gather the stray cubes. You pushed the memory away and focused on the mess at hand.

“The last one!” Dean said excitedly as he pulled a half melted cube from beneath the counter, popping to his feet quickly. Too quickly he realized, hitting his head on the corner of an open cupboard.

Knowing very well that neither of you opened it, you closed it quickly and turned him around. Grinning, you offered, “Want some ice for that?” He wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled, both consumed in a fit of laughs. Oh, how his arms, his scent, his laugh, and the way the corners of his eyes scrunched were intoxicating.

“There’s something you should know,” you pulled away from Dean, grabbing the dishtowel to fidget with. “About me, about this apartment.” He raised his brows in question. “I don’t usually bring strange men home from bars—“ Dean looked mildly offended at being lumped in with such a crowd, but then nodded in understanding and leaned forward, kissing your forehead.

“I get it,” he cut you off. “You need your space, and I need my beauty rest. Meet me at the diner at 6am. You’re buying!” And just like that he had sauntered out your door, leaving the small space feeling empty.

You shrugged, and prepared to shower and sleep. “You can come out now, Armand.” The ghost of the young man appeared next to you, looking rather agitated. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I tried to tell him—“

“He a hunter! You cain’t let’im know I here! He send me to tha gret beyond. Then who watch you back, boo?”

“Well, I wasn’t the one causing a scene. Rest up, I’m gonna need you tomorrow. We caught a case here in town, and I need to wrap it up quick to go take care of the case in Alexandria. I think Miss Maxine is at it again, bless her poor little old heart.”

Armand disappeared again with a disgruntled “Hmph.”

You don’t know what had gotten into you that night. Maybe it was the stress from finals, or the pointed comment from your only girlfriend about you being a recluse, or maybe it was the lukewarm, charged air of the stormy season that made you restless. Whatever it was that had led you here, to the frat party, wearing a sweater and blue jeans (leaving everything to the imagination, unlike some of your fellow party goers,) and standing in a corner of the pulsating room clutching your glass of mystery punch, it was a mistake. Amy invited you, of course, but she had already run off somewhere, maybe doing karaoke, maybe beer pong. Who knew? A strapping freshman new recruit to the fraternity (dignified by his wearing nothing but a trash bag) grinned down at you. He seemed nice enough after chatting for a bit. He was studying microbiology with a minor in business, and wanted to save the world. As a junior with only a few credit away from graduation, you knew that he would no doubt change his studies and views several times before the end. His excitement, however, was infectious, and you followed him to the patio, reminding yourself that you were supposed to be relaxing and having fun. The kid was scrawny, you could take him and a buddy in a fight and win. Thanks for the training, Dad. There was something off about him though, and the other members. Maybe it was their eyes. Most of them had very pretty eyes, ranging from bright blue to amber, but something was off about their eyes. Yeah... That’s it. Their eyes don’t catch the light. No reflections. Hm. Must be the bad lighting.

The kid started to ramble about the stars, and a few partygoers ran past, playing drunk tag. You looked up and marveled the same, then the stars faded and darkness took over.

You fell out of bed, a mess of sheets and pillows on the floor, sweating and shaking. You grasped for the alarm clock behind you. 4:56am. Too late to go back to sleep now, if you even could. You sighed. After turning on the shower to warm up, you turned to gather your clothes for the day—a dark grey flannel and black BDU pants you saved for particularly difficult jobs. One quick rinse and two cups of coffee later, you twisted your hair into a bun, not caring how it looked, grabbed your bag and walked out the door. Halfway down the hall you heard a loud crash. “Crap. Sorry Armand!” You scrambled back through the door and put the pocket knife in your pocket, glad that the crash was only a few pans spilling out of the cabinet to the floor. Sometimes when Armand got really mad he would end up breaking things.

“Woah. Mornin’ sunshine. Just roll out of bed?” Dean had a mouthful of pie. Apple, by the looks of it. His eyes lingered for a moment at your head, surely debating whether or not to mention the mess.

“Yeah,” You have no idea, you thought. “Isn’t it a bit early for pie?”

Dean looked completely offended at this. “Are you kidding?” He said between chewing the mouthful.

You shook your head. The waitress set down pigs’n’blankets, eggs, bacon, and pancakes, followed by another with coffee for you and two orange juices. “Uh, Dean? Did you order all this?”

“Yup. Hm. I’m used to ordering enough for me and Sammy.” He dug into the eggs.

“Where is Sam?”

“He’s off in Alexandria. There’s a little old lady there causing some trouble, and he is helping the staff of the nursing home keep her away from the voodoo crap. Well, when he isn’t being hit on,” He winked. “What can I say, older ladies have a thing for him.”

You almost spat out your coffee laughing. “That’s the case I was about to work when you interrupted my research the other night. I’ve had to go over there a few times. Miss Maxine is always getting herself in trouble. It’s sad, she was an incredible lady back in the day. Scary, but cool. I’m now friends with her daughter. Tell Sam to tell Miss Betty that Y/N says hello, she should give him less fits.”

Dean had amusement in his eyes and a mouthful of pancakes as he texted Sam.

Surprisingly you and Dean had almost cleared your plates completely. The only mishap during breakfast being Dean’s coffee spilling in his lap. Armand could have been worse and had trays of food fall on Dean, so really it wasn’t that bad.

Dean thought that the string of suicides might be ghost or demonic possession, it was an odd one. He had already interviewed the families of the victims and visited the places they were last seen alive the day you met him. In fact, that’s half the reason he had been at Louis and Christine’s. All of the victims had passed through there. You absentmindedly wondered if you had ever seen or met them.

The plan was to take Baby to the house and scope it out for any activity, sulfur, EMF, etc. Simple enough, but you were terrified of what you might find, terrified of the personal demons you would have to face. There was a reason this town didn’t talk about it—the atrocities that occurred there had brought the town to its knees. The town leaders had done everything in their power to keep it out of the papers as to not instill panic. It was only a twenty minute drive, but you didn’t remember falling asleep.

The room was dark with only a few tendrils of light sneaking through the boarded up windows. It was like waking up from a strange dream… but ropes dug into your wrists and ankles, and there was something wrapped around your mouth. Your eyes struggled to focus, and your head ached uncomfortably. You heard a bird outside, the wind. Then the blood curdling scream from beneath the floor boards. It seemed to stretch on, panic rising, threatening to close your throat in fear. You looked for a door, it was closed. Before you could consider getting your binds off and attempting escape through the window, the door flew open, the shuffling and thumping and screaming downstairs fading. There in the doorway was the freshman who spoke about the stars, looking much taller and stronger than he did last night. Was it last night? The light caught his hazel eyes—there was still no reflection. It was as if the light was sucked into them, and nothing escaped. Maybe it wasn’t bad lighting after all. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul. This is my fault—shoulda known. Dammit! The kid pulled you sharply by the binds on your ankles, dragging you down a hall and a flight of stairs, your head, shoulders, and back taking the brunt of it. You were in the basement, if you could tell by the cold, damp, stale air and tiny windows by the ceiling. Your eyes wandered from the windows to the ceiling and stopped, taking in the blood spray. Based on the layers, you and the screamer were not the only victims. You and the kid were surrounded by people in black hooded robes. Seriously? How original. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes—your ear was met with a swift kick and blinding pain. Your head lolled and you felt blood trickle down your neck as they hoisted you up, suspending you by your wrists from the rafters. Those who were cloaked circled you, chanting with deep, low voices. The kid laughed maniacally, lifting his arms as if this gave him more power, then spent unfathomable time carefully slicing into your skin. This you could take, focus on, and despite the blood loss, you knew you could recover fairly quickly. What happened after the sun set until it rose again, you wouldn’t recover from. You refused to cry out, but cried the same, praying for release, to pass out, for death. No relief came.

“Y/N… Y/N! Hey, you okay?” Baby was parked, Dean was crouched down next to you from the outside, his hand on your shoulder and concern in his eyes.

Unable to move for a moment from the paralyzing sensation that these dreams bring you, your eyes drifted to the house.

“I can take you back to town. C’mon, you don’t need to be out here right now.” Dean moved back towards the driver’s seat.

“N-no I’m good, I swear. Just didn’t sleep well last night. Too much whiskey,” You lied. You grabbed your bag and followed him towards the house. With the front door completely boarded up and wrapped in Police tape, Dean decided to entire through the first floor window. Knocking off the half-rotted boards was easy enough, and you set them to the side as he climbed in, EMF reader in one hand, gun in the other. You set the old board in the grass far enough that if you needed a quick escape you wouldn’t land on them upon exit. Turning and standing, the basement window caught your eye. It was the one with the crack running jagged and crossways through it. How many hours, no, days, had you looked at that crack?

Dean’s voice pulled you from your trance. “No EMF yet, and I don’t smell sulfur. I’m gonna check the basement. You comin’?” He poked his out of the window.

“Right behind you.” You followed him in, clutching the little knife in your pocket tightly, and it warmed in response. You knew you could face this. Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and Armand, even though he was a pain in the butt, was fiercely protective of you, helping you through the last three years of recovery.

You followed Dean carefully down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any movement, ectoplasm, or other indication of what was killing these men, trying not to focus on the familiar notches in the walls. As you closed the distance, you jumped and fell, back hitting the stairs, as Dean’s EMF reader went from zero to sixty in no time flat. You smacked your forehead with your palm, realizing that you should’ve left the knife in the car. The EMF was picking up Armand. But it was too late.

“Woah. Jackpot,” Dean turned and gave you that million dollar smile.

“Hey Dean, I left something in the car, I’ll be right back.” You ran to Baby, Armand appearing.

“Hey, don’tcha leave me out her! What’tif tho boys comen back and findju? Huh? You don needta be out her anyway! Les go home, cher, please.” You knew Armand had been through the same ordeal as you but hadn’t been lucky enough to survive it. After all, this is where the knife came from. In life, it had been his. Armand was a local young farmhand fond of attending the parties at the college, until the night he was taken a few months before you.

“Y/N, whatch out!” Dean yelled, and shot Armand with rock salt.

“No! Dean, NO!” You held up your hands in defense, Armand seriously pissed off and back behind you, hiding from the Winchester. “Armand is my friend. Please, I tried to tell you, let me explain.”

Dean slowly lowered his gun. Was there a tear welling up in one eye? He turned slightly, and it was gone. You had heard about Bobby, so hopefully Dean would understand.

“Y/N… you need to let him go, it doesn’t matter wha—“

“You listen to me, Winchester. Whatever is killing those guys, it’s not Armand. He protects me. In return, I protect him. He and I, we have history with this place. Bad history.”

Dean turned his gaze to the house, and back between you and Armand. The sun’s last rays rested in the trees, leaving the house shrouded in darkness.

“Okay, fine. But you owe me an explanation. Now.” Dean stormed back to Baby.

You couldn’t remember ever being this hungry or tired—no, you couldn’t even remember hunger or a time when your bones didn’t strain and ache. There was only numbness, inside and out. You watched without interest when the kid received his own cloak. You felt nothing when they all scampered about, something about police? You couldn’t quite make it out. You just stared at the crack in the window. You liked the way it caught the rain, when it caught the sun, or the glint of candlelight. You liked that window; it was broken like you.

When the police had come and arrested or shot the cloaked people, you just watched. Suddenly they didn’t seem so big anymore. But it was all distant. You fell in and out of consciousness as you had for… how long? That was the day Everette knew he loved you. He cut you from your bonds, covered you and carried you out. He was there when you woke in the hospital. Shortly after, he retired from the force and opened a bar, named after his parents. Said his twenty years were time enough, and he was too old and tired to be carrying pretty girls out of basements. It was time for the young men to do that.

They had held you for a week, some kind of imitation ritual. From the bodies the police found, the victims were both male and female. Whoever was unlucky he guessed. Many victims couldn’t be ID’d and were cremated, including Armand. Everette had given you Armand’s pocket knife when you were finally ready to go back to your apartment. You had thanked him even though it wasn’t yours. It was six months before Armand showed himself (and nearly killed you in fright), but you grew very close even though you never met him in his mortal life. It was a year before he could move things. Two years after the event, you started hunting monsters with Armand by your side. Monsters weren’t as scary as people. In fact, Armand proved himself a better partner than any mortal human could be, with his invisibility, telekinesis, possession, super strength, and ability to see the supernatural beings shrouded from your view. He even helped you send the crossroads demon those men had sold their souls to for strength and power back to hell.

While you relayed your experience to Dean, you failed to notice the weight lifted from your pocket.

Dean sighed and pursed his lips, a hand running through his hair. “Look… Y/N, I’ve been to hell. From the sounds of it, you’ve had a taste as well. But Bobby… ghosts don’t stay good. They lose themselves over time, some slower than others, but it happens. They go vengeful. Especially those who died violently. You have to destroy the knife. Let him go.”

“But—“

“Do you really want a vengeful spirit on your hands? Because he’s getting there,” Dean started to raise his voice gruffly. “These victims—“ Dean was interrupted by a horrible scream.

You froze. “Armand, what was that?”

You got no answer, and instinctively reached for the knife, finding nothing. “Armand! It’s gone!” You turned to Dean in panic. You both jumped out of Baby, armed now with rock salt, guns, and an iron crowbar. Dean ran down the stairs to the basement with you shortly behind. There was a young man, beating himself into a wall. It looked as if someone had also thrown him down the stairs. Startled, he turned to us, staring right down Dean’s shotgun barrel. There was the tiniest black teardrop rolling down his cheek. Dean shot the man with rock salt in the chest without further hesitation, sending Armand out of him. The man slumped down in the corner and moaned, hurt, but alive. Armand growled, the room shook like an earthquake, dust raining down from the rafters.

“Burn it, NOW!” Dean yelled and swung the crowbar through Armand and dissipating him. The ghost was attacking viciously, throwing a bench, glass jars, wrapping dean with bloodied rope. Dean struggled to get free, but managed to toss you his lighter and keep Armand distracted as you lit a small, extremely hot fire with debris under the stairs. You frisked the victim for it, finding it in his hand. You threw the knife in, crying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Armand,” over and over, until the room was quiet, and warm, strong arms were around you.

Neither of you spoke on the short drive to drop the victim off at the hospital. His injuries weren’t too bad, considering.

Dean was cut and bruised, had a busted lip and a few rope burns. You didn’t realize you were staring on the way back to your apartment, but you had memorized the angles of his profile, the way his brow furrowed, and all those freckles. It had been so long since you’d let anyone into your life. Especially men. Armand had kept them at bay…

“It’s not your fault you know,” Dean put Baby in park and shifted a concerned gaze to you. “Even Bobby possessed and tried to kill in the end. Armand held out for a long time. He protected you. Those men—all he saw was your captors. I don’t blame him. Or you. You gotta know that. Those hunts you talked about—you both saved lives. That’s worth somethin.”

“Dean,” you said quietly, “I can’t live here anymore. Armand was mine. He’s been by my side for three years. He always ate all the cereal—do ghosts even eat?—but I swear he did, and he always messed up the laundry, or changed the TV channel at the good part. He always had my back on a hunt, kept me safe when I walked at night. I can’t stay here. He’s gone. This town, my home, it’s all foreign now. How did you do it Dean? How did you come back from hell, and purgatory, and keep going? This world? It weighs on you. And after a while…I don’t belong in it.”

Dean muttered a son-of-a-bitch under his breath. “Okay. You got to listen to me. You got to keep fighting. When you want to stop, fight harder. Me? I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left. You’re gonna do the same. Now you’ve got a choice. Get out of this life while you can. If you don’t you’re gonna die bloody. We all do in the end. What’s it going to be?”

His words gave you strength. The sun started to peak on the horizon, spreading light pinks and yellows at the edge of the trees. You watched it, the sun now blinding your eyes with the first rays. You turned to meet his gaze. He was so beautiful lit up like that. If it weren’t for a little blood here or there, you could surely count those freckles. The green folds of his irises were lined with flecks of gold. Peace slowly rolled over you with the warmth of those rays, reflecting off those beautiful eyes. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul… and his is the most radiant, beautiful soul I’d ever seen.

“I’ll fight too. I’m a hunter. And if I go out bloody, that’s okay,” you said with steely resolve. There was a strength in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the last three years.

“You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. From purgatory.”

“Oh, you mean Benny?” Dean’s jaw dropped. “Close your mouth or you’re gonna catch a fly, Winchester. Benny would swing through town occasionally. He and Everette could talk for hours over nothing, and I loved to listen. He spoke about you the most.” You grinned at the memory. It was no wonder Benny spoke so highly of Dean, or how Dean’s soul radiated warmth and beauty. You understood the intoxication and the draw that every beast in Purgatory had felt towards Dean. “I miss him, haven’t seen him around in a long time.”

Dean cast his eyes downward. “He chose to go back to Purgatory. Didn’t even let me talk him out of it. He went back to save Sam, and chose not to cross the threshold. Kept talking about it’s purity…” He trailed off. “I won’t let you do the same, so don’t even try.”

Dean waited while you packed your duffle bag with clothes, and a few pictures of your family, and other miscellaneous items from your former life in a small box, left the key in the lock of the stubborn door on your way out. Standing in the middle of the hallway, you waited to hear Armand make things crash because you didn’t grab the knife, but smiled sadly and walked away when there was only silence.

Sam met up with you and Dean at the diner for breakfast. He was a lot taller than you expected.

“Uh, you smell like old lady.” Dean turned up his nose and Sam plopped down next to you, disheveled and tired looking.

“And you smell like moldy basement, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The waitress brought another feast.

“You must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you and um—Miss Betty says for us to take good care of you or she’ll let Miss Maxine turn me into a faut carot?”

“What, a fake carrot?” Dean asked with a mouthful of—apple pie or pancake? You couldn’t tell anymore.

You laughed, “No, Sam, she threatened to turn you into a large black grasshopper.”

Dean hummed humorously through his mouthful of—okay it’s definitely pie—and nodded, raising his eyebrows jokingly at Sam. Sam huffed and crossed his arms. “She said both of us, Dean.” Sam lifted his eyebrows right back. “Said she would know otherwise.”

The brothers caught up, and you filled in the details for both cases that the brothers couldn’t. Bellies full, you all retired to the motel to catch up on much needed sleep, Dean taking the couch. You didn’t dream this time. It was discussed that you would return to the bunker with them until you got back on your feet. Before you left town, though, there was someone you had to talk to.

Everette was shining glasses at the bar, preparing for the busy weekend night ahead. “Bonjour mes amis!”

“Hey Ev! This is Sam and Dean, Winchester.” He nodded in greeting. He knew who they were, knew the whole time. Dean was more than a legend among hunters and those who knew of the supernatural world around them, like Ev. Dean had a reputation regarding ladies, which is why Ev had given him the nonverbal warning. “Ev, I’m leaving town. There’s nothing left for me here.”

“Well boo, it’s about damn time! C’mere,” He walked around the counter to pull you into tight embrace. “You get on out of this Bayou and make somthing of yourself. And don’tchu worry, I’ll come check up on you.”

You held tightly to him as the finality of your leaving struck in you an odd sense of calm and excitement at the same time. “You better. Take care, Ev.” You traded sad smiles, Everette threw a few hairy eyeballs towards the boys, and before you knew it, you were on the road to Lebanon, Kansas. Sam slept some more in the back seat, obviously exhausted from his case, leaving you and Dean in the front. He reached for your hand, and you smiled.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Me too. I’ll keep fighting, til I got nothing left.”

He unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you closer. Now in the middle, you refastened your belt and leaned on his shoulder, the time spent in your hell washed away by his warmth. He held you close, and didn’t let go. Not when you got to your new home, or during the tour of it, and in the night when the dreams would come back, he was right there to push them away again, and so were you for him.

A/N: Thank you so much if you actually made it all the way through this! Here is a bonus gif (not mine).

#luci-in-trenchcoats #michelle's 2k follower challenge #dean x reader #supernatural #fanfiction #reader x dean

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dramaqueeenamby · 4 years ago

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Waves: Wild Hearts

A/N: This is sorta a follow up to Fighter that I’ve had on my computer for months. I have included the ending of that oneshot at the beginning of this one to help refresh memories, but if you want to read Fighter, you can do so here. Yes, there will be a part 2 to this one.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2K

-GIF from Google-

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @lettytheletdown @hello-therree @toni9 @kpizzletrash @missdforever @missyperle @mani-lifes @koko-michelle @liquorlaughslove

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Previously on Waves

“Now back to the news that broke headlines just last night. Academy Award-Winning Actress Summer Hemsworth was allegedly attacked in her Georgia hotel room last night. Hemsworth suffered two gunshot wounds and reportedly collapsed in the lobby as horrified onlookers called 911 and attempted to stop the bleeding.”

“She was rushed to the local hospital where doctors performed emergency surgery, and as of now, we are hearing reports that she is in stable condition.”

“While details are still unclear, what we do know is that the attacker is now deceased, reportedly at the hands of Summer, who fought him off. In addition, the perpetrator has been identified as Myles Hampton, the same man who stalked and attacked Mrs. Hemsworth almost six years prior.”

“Hampton was sentenced and serving a 15-year sentence which has the world wondering. How did he get out? How was he able to re-traumatize his victim? How--”

“Mommy.”

His son’s voice ripped Christopher from his phone where he was watching the news for reasons even he couldn’t explain. Well, rather, didn’t want to explain.

Elysha glared at her brother, bringing her index finger to her mouth. “Shh. Papa said we gotta be quiet.”

Summer moaned, finally waking up from another nap. They had her on heavy painkillers that made her sleep, much to the chagrin of all four individuals occupying the private hospital room. For the twins, sleep meant she couldn’t talk to them. They needed to hear her voice to know that she was going to be okay.

For Christopher, well, even awake, he still worried.

And for Summer, she just hated to be unconscious as she recognized the concern that it caused her family.

“Did he now?” She whispered, blinking a couple times as she managed to lift her hand, bringing it to Emmett’s cheek. “Well, mama says you don’t have to.”

Both kids responded with a smile, quickly grabbing the sheets on either side of the bed, where they’d remained the entire time.

They wouldn’t leave her side.

“Look, mama,” Elysha chimed as they lifted the papers. “We drew you pictures. Mines is bestest.”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

She smiled, ignoring the pain she was still experiencing. It mattered not though. She’d take the pain of survival over the finality of death any day.

“They’re both the bestest,” Summer shared, making both of them grin for a few seconds when she noticed Elysha drop her head. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Elysha took a few seconds, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re glad you’re okay, mommy.”

“Yeah,” Emmett agreed. “Why’d that mean man try to hurt you, mama?”

Summer closed her eyes. Her pain was no longer a concern. Her priority was the hurt she saw and heard in her children, her beautiful babies prematurely forced to encounter the evils of this world.

“I-”

“Well, it’s about time you woke up, lil’ missy.” Helen spoke with a warm smile as she walked into the room.

Seeing their grandmother raised their spirits just enough to eat away some of Summer’s guilt. Helen walked over and gently felt her daughter’s head. “How you doing, baby?”

Summer, conscious of the watchful set of blue eyes on her, smartly replied. “I’m good, mama.”

Helen nodded. “I see you’re getting some of your color back. Good. You was getting a lil’ pale on me, lil girl.”

Elysha gasped. “Can I have some of mommy’s color, grandma!”

“Me too, grandma!”

The twin’s excitement and naivety made Summer smile. Their uplifted spirits nursed her soul.

“I don’t know about color, but how about you two come with grandma to the cafeteria, and we’ll see what kind of ice cream they have.”

The promise of their favorite dessert quickly dimmed when they realize it meant leaving their mom.

“But-”

“Ya’ll go. Mama has to talk to papa,” Summer referenced Christopher who’d sat silent while allowing the children time to bond with their mother. “Please?”

Emmett groaned but relented. “I’ll bring you ice cream back, mama.” He looked back at Christopher. “You too, papa!”

“I’ll bring you some too, papa!”

Careful kisses on either side of her cheeks preceded the kids finally walking out hand in hand with Helen.

The sound of tiny footsteps repeatedly diminished until they could be heard no more, replaced by heavy-footed strides and the creaking of a chair. Summer closed her eyes at his warm touch, his hand clasped over hers, the other going to her forehead.

He laid his head against her shoulder, Summer angling her own so that she could kiss the top of his head.

She gently tightened her grip on his head. “I’m fine, Christopher.”

“Don’t.” She licked her lips, concern shifting from her kids to her husband. “Don’t give me that shit, Summer. You are not fine.”

“I’m alive, Chris,” she croaked, wanting desperately to stress how grateful she was. “He shot me. Twice. And I’m alive.”

“This never should have fucking happened. If they’d been watching him, he would have never-”

“Hey,” she forced some bass into her voice. “We can’t do that. It happened, and it-it sucks, but-”

“How can you be so calm about this?” He forced out bitterly, finally lifting his head to reveal glazed eyes that burned with fear and rage. “After everything he did, what he tried-”

She attempted the comedic route, something that typically worked for them. “Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve almost died.” The dark joke fell through, possibly increasing his irritation. She swallowed. “I-I think-I still don’t know what to think, Chris. I-It’s a lot to process, but I can’t do that right now. Emmett and Elysha are watching us, watching me, and every time I look at them, look at you, I’m reminded of everything I stood to lose, and I’m just-I’m thankful. And the last thing that I want is to further worry the twins…or you.”

He lifted their conjoined hands and gently kissed her fingertips. Summer recognized the gesture as acknowledgment.

“I love you,” she breathed as he moved his mouth to kiss her inner forearm. “So much.”

He brought his hand to her cheek, their eyes meeting with a burning and moving meeting that conferred the ardent love between them but was now tinged with a new emotion.

Fear

Wild Hearts

“Just a few more seconds. Come on, Summer.”

Face scrunched up in discomfort, the actress swallowed her pain and scraped for every bit of resilience that she had left, successfully completing the set before relaxing as soon as her therapist gave her the okay.

Dropping onto the floor, Summer crossed her wrists and placed them over her head. Deep, relaxing breaths abated her nerves and aching muscles as Rene attempted to offer words of encouragement and praise that Summer was only halfheartedly listening to.

It wasn’t that Rene was bad at her job. No, far from it. She was a wonderful physical therapist who pushed Summer in ways that were both challenging while also welcoming. It was that Summer still hadn’t come to accept that she was back at square one. She felt like she was preparing to become Storm all over again. Relearning suddenly replaced years of maintenance. Her schedule had been disrupted, and it created cognitive dissonance.

Hand unconsciously falling onto her core, her fingers slid over the dark scar that still bled with remnants of trauma and regrets. One of two, it was the most prominent and noticeable. Folks rarely paid attention to feet, but the stomach, it was the area that generally garnered a decent amount attention based solely on the level of flatness.

Rene noticed the way Summer’s fingers stroked her slick skin and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

“The day has been called, ma’am.”

The ginger grinned crookedly and complimented her client. “You did great today.”

Summer snorted, groaning quietly as she sat up and braced her palms against the mat. “Now you’re just kissing my ass.”

“While you do have quite the ass,” Summer rolled her eyes. “I’m not quite sure how my wife and your husband would feel about that.”

Summer rolled her eyes as Rene reached a hand to help her stand up. “Noted.” Rolling her shoulders, Summer walked over to grab her pink Blender Bottle, downing down the water mixed with lemons and limes. The typically acrid mixture was welcoming because of the addition of ice cubes that quenched her parched throat, assisting in the cooling down of her warm body.

“I think we could even maybe move down to twice a week instead of three.”

Swallowing a couple more ounces, Summer lowered her cup and wiped at her mouth. “Seriously?”

Rene nodded as she crossed her arms. “I meant it. You’re doing great.” A beat. “Physically.”

And just like that, Summer rolled her eyes and turned her body to start packing up her items. “Here we go again.”

Rene already knew that she was going to be met with apprehension, but that didn’t dissuade her. “I can only help you rehabilitate your body, Summer. But your mind—”

“—is fine.”

Rene stilled, her green eyes softening. “You can say that until you’re blue in the face, but it makes no difference if you don’t really believe it, and I don’t think you do.”

Summer stilled, her back toward the tall woman. A part of her, a very small part of her, wanted to switch things up. She wanted to entertain the conversation, just to see how it would play out, but another part of her knew exactly how it would play out, so she did as she’d done a lot lately.

“So, same time next week?” She spun around, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Before the other woman could offer a response, Summer shot her a wink and walked past her. “Thank, Rene.”

As if on cue, Phillip’s large frame appeared in the doorway, and Summer’s grin fell.

Arms clasped in front of him, he nodded in acknowledgment. “Ready, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

An elongated sigh escaped as she approached him and managed to reignite her previous smile. “I told you, Summer is fine, but yeah, I’m ready.”

A grunted response that she couldn’t really make out proceeded him opening the door for her only to quickly move back in front of her so that he was blocking her view. For a man his size, he was impressively quick on his feet.

A few more doors, elevator ride down, and Summer was met with the blistering Australian heat as a firm hand moved to her backside and escorted her out the building. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographers who snapped away, a few inching close to the star but not enough where they were in arms reach of Phillip.

They weren’t stupid.

Phillip had served as a bodyguard for some of the most important figures across the world, celebrities and royals included. His resume was impeccable, and he was damn good at his job, a job that, while she respected, Summer felt suffocated by at times.

The fact that she even had a full-time bodyguard was something that she still hadn’t swallowed. She’d always been vocal and open about the fact that she loathed the whole “barrier” between celebrities and “regular degular” people. Her occupation, in her option, shouldn’t place her on a pedestal.

Plus, she was far from hopeless, and so a bodyguard was something could never get with unless they were provided by the event she was attending.

But a certain husband of hers was absolutely adamant about hiring the 24/7 protection following the attack, and while Summer understood his reasoning, she still wasn’t in agreement.

Not that it mattered…

The drive was short as the outpatient treatment center was only about twenty minutes away from the Hemsworth residence. Once they reached the mansion, Summer relieved Phillip from his duties. She had no plans on going out again. Christopher was picking up the kids from school. She’d maybe take Doggy out for a walk on the beachfront, but that didn’t require the 6”3 giant’s presence.

Not even three seconds into the door, Christopher was in front of his wife, hands on her hips as he pecked her lips.

“Hey, honey.”

Summer faltered only for a second before chewing on her bottom lip. “Damn, waiting for someone?”

“Always.” He winked and smacked her ass, prompting her to try to push him away.

“I need to shower,” she protested with a small pout as he brushed her comment off and slyly lowered his mouth down to her ear.

“I’ll join you.”

Summer grinned, momentarily contemplating his offer. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“We are married, aren’t we?”

“I mean….” She laughed at his scowl and managed to pull away, walking past him to make her way up the steps. “Can you make us—”

Summer stopped and turned around on the second step only to see that was directly in front of her, on the first step.

She lifted a brow. “Sir?”

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure that I said n—Christopher!” She squealed as he silenced her by picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“I am going to put you down,” he responded while continuing their track up the stairs. “On my dick.”

“Christopher!”

————

Summer rolled over on her side and ran her hand over her face, eyes shut as she struggled to catch her breath. Holding onto the pillow, she pulled the blanket up to her neck, depriving her nude body of the chilly air that the AC caused to consume their room.

She smiled softly as her husband kissed her temple. Feeling the bed creak, he peaked and saw him moving out the way as he started to pull on his clothes. Leaning on her back, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw that it was time for him to leave to pick up the twins.

How long were we?

“Phillip will be here in a few minutes—”

Summer frowned. “What?” She sat up, not caring that the sheet fell down, exposing her breast. “Baby, I told him he could go home for the day.”

Christopher stood up, pulling his pants on. “Why would you do that?”

She looked from side to side. “Because I don’t need him? I didn’t plan on going out today.”

“But you knew that I had to go pick up the kids, so you’d be alone.”

Summer closed her eyes. “Christopher….”

The chime of his phone interrupted her as he glanced at the screen to see that Phillip had arrived and entered the house using the key that Chris thought was a good idea to provide him with. “He’s here. I have to get going.”

Summer frowned and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay.”

Looking back over to see that she was still dissatisfied, he walked over and sat on the bed, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Seriously? Christopher, you’ve already called the man over here.”

“And?” Chris didn’t see a problem. “He’s staying the night—”

“Again?” Summer was no longer so disappointed. She was irritated. “That’s the third damn time this week.”

“Okay?”

Summer scoffed and moved away from him, crossing her arms. “You know, I would appreciate it if you would actually, maybe, communicate with me before you make these decisions.”

“What is there to talk about, Summer?” He watched her move to the other side of the bed as she kicked the blanket off and scurried around to gather her clothes. “You need pro—”

“No, Christopher, what I need is for you to stop treating me like a child!” A beat. “I can take care of myself!”

“Like you did with Myles?”

Summer clutched the shirt in her hand at the same moment Chris closed his eyes. “Fuck, Summer—“

“You can go to hell,” she whispered, yanking her shirt over her head and marching past him, snatching her arm away from him when he reached for her. “Don’t—“ she stopped, eyes closing as she fought the sob in the back of her throat. “—touch me.”

Christopher recognized that tone. It was rare, but when present, he recognized that nothing he could say or do could penetrate the impenetrable exterior that was Summer’s wall.

The slamming of the bathroom door indicated what he already knew. Walking over to the door and placing his ear against it, welcoming it to the quiet sobs of his wife confirmed it.

He’d fucked up.

-----

A/N: So....whose side ya’ll on?

#chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x black!reader #fic: waves

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quiddy-writes · 8 years ago

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Baby

I wrote Sam smut. I needed to cleanse myself with some Dean.

Side note, congrats Michelle! I’ve been a big fan of yours for a while (fuck, just check my fic recs tag), and I’m so happy for you!

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean x Reader Challenge: @luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower Challenge x Words: 630 Summary: Dean’s really protective of his baby Warnings: Some swearing, because I can’t control myself Prompt: New rule. You steal my Baby, you get punched.

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“New rule,” Dean huffed, his anger making him forget how to breathe properly. “You steal my Baby, you get punched.”

The shapeshifter shrugged, trying to hide his awkwardness. The keys dangled from his left hand, almost tauntingly. “Sorry, buddy. Look, no harm no foul, right? Take your keys, and we all walk away happy.”

Dean tsked. “No can do. New rule, remember?”

With that, Y/N came up behind the shapeshifter, thrusting her silver knife straight into his side. The shifter whipped around to claw at her, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

A shot rang out, the silver bullet blowing through his brain. The shifter fell to his knees in front of Y/N, then onto his face, dead before he hit the ground.

With her face now covered in the blood of the monster they’d been chasing for days, she narrowed her eyes at Dean. “Seriously?”

“What, you’d rather I let him take a swipe at you?” Dean frowned, walking up to her. His unoccupied hand came up to check her over for any injuries. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Fine. He was keeping me in the back room. Skipped knot day in Boy Scouts, though.”

He chuckled, his hand cupping her cheek.

She pushed him off. “Dean, I’m covered in shifter guts, save yourself,” she joked.

He pulled his jacket down to cover his hand, then began scrubbing off the blood. She complained a bit, acting like a child being cleaned by its mother.

Then, when most of the viscera moved from her face to his sleeve, he pulled her into a tight hug. Her own arms twined around his waist, holding him just as close. “Hey, you okay?”

“I was worried, y’know?”

“Ah, don’t worry,” she nuzzled herself closer into his chest, even if his usual musk was a bit masked by the smell of gunpowder and shift brains. “Baby’s in the back, he didn’t hurt her.”

“She’s okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “I promise.”

“Well, I was more worried about you,” he promised.

“…sure.”

“I was!” he pulled away, looking her in the eye.

“Dean, it’s okay. I understand that I’m lower on the totem pole.”

He frowned. “You really think that Baby is more important than you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it. I know it. It goes Baby, pie, then girlfriend.”

There was a moment of silence before Dean crashed his lips against hers, pulling her close enough to eliminate every inch of space between them.

No matter how many times she kissed Dean, he still made her heart flutter and palms sweaty like she was in a damn romance novel. Her hands, still wrapped around his waist, twisted themselves in his jacket for something to ground her.

When he finally pulled away, he narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re the baby I was talking about.”

She hummed, still on her high from kissing Dean.

“Did you hear me?”

“Something something Baby,” she smiled dreamily.

He chuckled at that. “Good to know I still have that effect on you.”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips curling up into a smile. “I said that you’re the baby I was talking about.”

“Wait, so you mean that you would only punch someone who kidnaps me? Wow, really feeling the love there.”

Dean pulled away, rolling his eyes. He walked over to the shifter, shoving his now-cool gun back into his pants, and then picked up his keys from the monster. He then turned to Y/N, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, let’s go find the second-most important baby in my life.”

She curled around his arm, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

Everything Tags: @carrollmomx3 @raylin19 @saxxxology @spnhybrid @wayward-marvel-and-more @writingbeautifulmen @xfanqirlinq

Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @purgatoan @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @salvachester @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean @mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @revwinchester @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @inmysparetime0 @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business

mrswhozeewhatsis Tags: @vintagevalentinexx @theficlibrarium @sammit-janet @bowtiesandapplepie @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @matteson-crazed @castielspahdehrah @charliesbackbitches @crzcorgi @ellen-reincarnated1967 @gryffindorable713 @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @mrsjohnsmith @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @i-never-said-a-pilot @thewinchestielboys @sis-tafics @amaranthinecastiel @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @samanddeanwinchester67 @prettyxwickedxthings @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien @myfand0msandm0re @olitzisbae @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @shortandlongstories @strange-inhumanity @ackleslaugh @noisilyyoungpuppy @fangirling-instead-of-working @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @chrisatplay @spnsimpleman @kreborn17 @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @zanthiasplace @salvachester @sleep-silent-angel @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @trenchcoats-and-bees @curliesallovertheplace @jencharlan @not-so-natural-spn @skybinx-blog @thebunkerismyhome @feelmyroarrrr @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @tia58 @sams-little-toy @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @everyday-supernatural-af @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @avasmommy224 @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @wheresthekillswitch @shelovesallthethings @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @klaineaholic @supernaturalismalife @pinknerdpanda @hexparker

#michelle’s 2k follower challenge #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x reader #reader x dean #dean winchester x reader #reader x dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester reader insert #dean reader insert #my words

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flufy07 · 8 years ago

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Don´t judge a book by its cover Part 1

My entry for Michelle´s 2K Follower Challenge (@luci-in-trenchcoats)

First try at a Story with A/B/O dynamics.

I´ll porbably turn this into a series

Wordcount: 1706

Characters: Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Sam Omega!Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: Angst, language, attempted sexual assult (if this triggers you please don´t read), a little bit of fluff

When we first met

As an Omega you hadn´t allways had it easy. Burt as an Omega that was a hunter and worked alone? Well while it wasn´t unheard of it was definetily something other hunters frowned upon. That was the reason you avoided other hunters as best as you could your only contacts in the comunity being Bobby and Garth.

Bobby had been a grumpy old Alpha who you had met a few years ago on a which hunt. He had known your father who had been a hunter too and so he had given you a fair chance to prove yourself as he knew that your father had trained his children, all being Alphas except for you, well. You had stayed in contact with the hunter ever since, taking up hunts if he asked you to or you calling him when you were stuck on the reserarch.

With Garth you would even go as far as to call him a friend. Bobby had called you once asking you to help the, at that time still inexpirienced Beta, to hunt down a pack of werewolves. You had taken an immediate liking to him as he hadn´t even so much as raised an eyebrow at the fact that you were an Omega hunting all on your own.

Now years later you were sitting in a small bar in a small town looking down at your phone contemplating your options. You had taken up the trail of a vampire nest close to the own but unfortunately it was too big for one hunter to take out. You needed back up.The only problem was that Bobby was dead and you hadn´t heard from Garth in quite some time either. You had called all the old numbers of Garth and Bobby none the less hoping they would lead you to a hunter who could help you out because while you didn´t really liked working with other hunters you couldn´t just ignore the vampires and you weren´t suicidal either.

So when your phone rang you immediatly picked up.

“Hello?“

“Uhm, hi,” a deep but soft voice replied, “My name is Sam Winchester, I saw you called one of Bobby Singers old cellphones. Do you need any assistance?”

Your Eyes widened as you realized just who you were talking to. Even for a hunter who stayed to herself ike you did it was impossible to niot hear of the famous Winchesters, two Alphas who had caused and stopped their fair share of Apocolypses.

“Are you still there?” Sam asked when you didn´t answer. “Yeah ah, sure, just let me get some place more privat so I can give you the details.” You replied getting off the barstoole and placing some money on the counter.

After you had finished your explanations there was a moment of silence.

“Yeah, we heard of that hunt. We were actually on our way there.” Sam finally said.

“Good, we can meet up then.” You replied glad that you hadn´t had to wait too long.

“Wait you mean...”, Sam started but you didn´t let him finish.

“Sam Winchester, you and your brother my be the most famous hunters in the United States but that doesn´t mean you are the only ones. I called becauce I needed back up on this not because I can´t handle myself.”

You heard a light chuckle, you assumed it was Dean who had probably heard your outburst as you had raised your voice slightly.

“I like her already Sammy”

“Well let´s see how long that lasts” you thought to yourself.

“So when will you be here?” You asked.

“In about two days.” Sam replied after a short conversaion with his brother.

“Very well, I´ll be waiting at the Red Star motel. It´s the only one in town so you will have no problem finding it. My room number is 214. I look forward to meeting you.”

With that you hung up, not waiting for a reply. You let your head fall into your hands letting out a long sigh. You just hoped you wouldn´t regret working with the Winchesters.

It was already late the next day when you were on your way back to the motel. You had been in a small diner only a few steets down to get something to eat. You hat talked a bit to the waitress, a nice elderly women and time had past so quickly you hadn´t even realized it had gotten dark outside.

The woman had offered to call a taxi or something for you so that you haddn´t had to walk home alone but you had declined, saying that it wasn´t that long of a walk. Maybe you should have taken her up on the offer.

You weren´t that far away from the motel when suddenly a hand wrapped itself around you biceps and ulled you into a dark alley. Yelping you brought back your other arm, your ellbow connecting with the stomach of your attacker. You spun around ready to defend yourself when you were grabbed from behuind again. The one holding you now made sure you couldn´t use your arms.

“Whoa, this one´s got a little bit of a wild side.” the man behind you comented. You didn´t know who he was talking to until you heard a dark chuckle from a dark corner of the alley.

“Indeed.” the man answered stepping closer. The smell of an Alpha mixed with alcohol invaded your nostrils.

For now you would let the man hold you. You needed to find out what they wanted first, before you got yourself head first into more trouble then you could handle.

“What do you want?”

“Ah yes, that´s indeed an interesting question little Omega. You see me and my friend here, we got a little bit bored. Good thing you came along.”

He grinned at you, reaching out to cup your face but you were quicker. As soon as his hand was within reach you turned your head, biting down on it hard.

“Ah, you little bitch!” he cursed bachhanding you.

The force of the blow made your head spin but you had no time to waste. You kicked the man behind you so he was forced to let you go. You tthen spun around hitting him in the jaw and making him tumble down to the ground.

Before you could make a run for the steet though the Alpha grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and send you face first into a wall.

You grunted in pain trying to et away but the Alpha was already on you pressing you against the wall with his own weight.

“Now, Now where are you going? We just started to have some fun.”

You kicked and screamed at him all your self control gone as you struggled against his strong grip.

“Let me go you bastard.”

But he wouldn´t move an inch as hi hands started to roam your body and trying to peal of your jacket. You started to kick more desperatly finally hitting his shin hard enough that you could turn around. You waisted no time bringing up your knee hitting him in the groin.

He cursed under his breath going down on his knees temporarily but you didn´t wait to see what his next move was as you ran for the street not looking for cars as you hastily crossed it. Which almost cost you your life hadn´t it been for the quick reflexes of the driver who came to a screeching halt right in front of you.

Even through the closed doors of the car you could hear him curse while the passenger noticed the Alpha emerging from the alley. You could see him nudge the driver pointing at you then in the general direction you had come from. Taking in your disheaveled appearance both seemed to have conected the dots as the got out of the car.

“Are you alright miss?” the ttaller one who had been riding shot gun asked you with a concerned face.

Before you could answer though the Alpha who had attacked you had reached the three of you.

“Ah I´m sorry gentleman. My girlfriend and I had a little argument and she ran off into the traffic.

Your eyes went wide by the nerv of this guy. You also realized with some relief that the taller one made no move to let the man past him as he tried to reach you. You jumped a little as the driver put a hand on the small of your back.

“Yeah sure looks like a lovers quarrel,” he said sarcasticly glaring at the man, “but I would like to hear the story from her. You relaxed a little bit the smell of the Alpha standing beside you smoothing your nerves a little bit.

“I don´t know this guy. He and his friends attacked me as I was on my way back to the motel.” Both men narrowed their eyes in anger at your attacker.

“You better go now before I put a damn bullet through your brain.” the man beside you said anger radiating off of him.

Knowing he had lost the battle, and probably a little bit scared too he disapeared into the night.

You let out a sigh of relief before your legs gave out under you. Luckily the Alpha beside you still had his hand on your back anf caught you easily.

“Wow, easy there.”, he tried calming you as your brain caught up with what just had happend.

When you finally had calmed down a little bit you apologized to the two men who were now kneeling beside you on the road.

“Hey, it´s alright,” the taller one soothed, “you just got attacked.

Yeah but still. I´m not some helpless damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

“No one said you can´t,” the other replied, “my name is dean by the way this is my brother Sam. We can take you to the motel if you want to. We were on our way there anyway."

You cursed under your breath. Way to make a first impression.

“Well nice to meet you two too. My name is (Y/N) and I think we were going to meet tomorrow to gank some vampires.”

@supernatural-jackles

#michelles 2K Follower Challenge #dean x reader #possibly triggering #read Warnings for more information #Dean winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #A/B/O dynamics #Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

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theas-bedtime-stories · 8 years ago

Text

Drunken Mistakes

Summary: Dean gets mad at reader one night when he has had too much to drink

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 6,044 (this one ran away from me a little)

Warnings: mentions of cheating, physical fight, implication of smut? or soft smut (idk what to call it)

A/N: Okay so this is my entry for ‘Michelle’s 2K follower challange’. Congrats @luci-in-trenchcoats on 2k and I hope you like this. Quote I got “Your problem is that nobody hates you more than you do”. I hope you guys like this, first time writing in this ‘x reader’ style so feedback would be much loved

It had been an exhausting hunt, the djinn you and the boys had been hunting down had managed to get a hold of Dean. He had refused to tell you what his dream had been off, saying it was ‘nothing special’ and that he didn’t really remember it. You knew he had lied though; on your drive back to the bar opposite your motel the boys had started talking about the hunt as soon as they thought you had fallen asleep on the back seat of Baby. You had heard snippets of their conversation through hushed whispers, they spoke of how Dean had been living in a white picket fence neighbourhood, with the two of you caring for your first child, Bobby, whilst Sammy was living across the road with Jess. It sounded like a beautiful world, where the family business was ‘shaving people, styling things’; best of all there were nothing going bump in the night which meant that Mary was still alive and had moved to Texas with John.

Sammy had made the decision to drop you off at the motel without waking you so that you could sleep whilst the boys went to the bar. It was then that you chose to announce your mental presence, yawning, unnecessarily loudly, as you over stretched your arms and sat up; there was no way you were missing out on the celebratory beer, besides, this was your hometown and you would be damned if you didn’t make the most of the night here…

The gentle roar of the impala faded out as Dean pulled into the only free space around. As you get out of the car you lean against the door for a second, taking in the environment. Directly in front of you is an old bar in which you spent many of your weekends with your closest friends. The wooden door still had a splintered hole which was just to the right of the doors centre; an accessory which was a result of Rob eagerly showing off his dad’s new shotgun before he accidentally fired it – almost killing the owner’s cat. The fluorescent lettering was flickering, what should have spelt “The Drunken Angel” now read “Th D unk An el”, not quite the same thing but it made you and the boys laugh. There was silver tape haphazardly strewn where a window should have been, allowing the smell of pie and beer to float out into the surrounding air, teasing those who stood outside; tempting them to come in. The inharmonious racket that was breaking out from within the four walls told of the boisterous individuals inside. From the corner of your eye you can see that Sam and Dean have overly-enthusiastic smiles plastered across their faces, the excitement poorly restrained. Pushing yourself off of Dean’s pride and joy you begin to make your way into the all-too-familiar stench of alcohol with the boys hot on your tail.

It isn’t long before Dean has drunk enough shots for the entirety of the Dallas Cowboys team. Calling to the bartender to put on some tunes, he begins dancing before the music has even started, swinging his arms back and forth before him as he shimmies his chest whilst simultaneously rocking his hips from side to side. Looking over to you then Sammy for encouragement with a proud grin, once he realises that you and Sam are laughing at him rather than with him he pretends to throw a fishing line at you, reeling it in in hope you will do the oh so cheesy fish move. It is at that exact moment that the music starts up, as though Rick the bartender felt sorry for you. Gasping at the realisation that it is one of your favourite songs, Dean grabs your wrist and pulls you against him on the dance floor. Leaning on you to help hold him upright he places your hands around his neck before gently resting the flat of his palm on your lower back. Slowly you sway together, not quite in time to the music but you are more focused on the warmth radiating from Dean. You can feel his hands begin to slowly slide down your body, the rest of him follows as he loses all coordination and control of his limbs. Straightening your arms into a rigid position below each armpit you look to Sam for support, Sam only laughs before finally giving in and offering up his assistance.

“Why don’t I look after Dean in the booth over there” he says, gesturing with his head to the nearest, vacant, booth. “Go relax, have fun!”

Raising an eyebrow in response, you watch on, bemused as Sam heaves his lump of a brother into the seat; or at least tries to. You reach out to help but Sam just grunts an “I’ve got this!” before attempting to bat your hand away with his left hand. An action which causes Dean to fall a little closer to the ground, Sam catching him just before he could actually make contact. Shrugging your shoulders you look around the room, there wasn’t really much to see or do, you don’t recognise many of the men in the establishment and those that you do recognise you aim to avoid at all costs. Therefore you decide the best thing to do is to just dance in the middle of the area on your own; your natural rhythm kicks in as your hips glide in a figure of eight to the velvety tones of Jason Manns’ vocal chords smoothly drifting over the notes. You allow the words of ‘Sittin on the Dock of the Bay’ to take over, your fingertips running over the tops of your thighs and your hips, losing yourself to the music you don’t notice how the eyes of every man in the bar are on you, everyone’s except Sammy’s who’s back is turned to you as he attempts to force his brother to drink something other than beer. His mission fails miserably as Dean’s green eyes are glued to you with a look of pure adoration, as the song begins to draw to a close you saunter over to your hammered boyfriend and his slightly less hammered brother. Just as you are about to kiss the smirk off of his face you hear the ceasing of footsteps behind you followed by a “Y/N?” and you can feel Dean’s shoulders tense under your fingers at the newcomer.

Turning to face the voice’s owner, ready to pounce, you are stunned into silence at the vision before you. A full grown man, which was a mere shadow of his former self, loomed above you. His sweet brown eyes were accentuated by crow’s feet, he had stubble around full lips, his dimple below the mole on his left cheek gave him an even deeper beauty, the beaming face was framed by wisps of thick black hair which looked like he had a taken a page right out of Sam’s book. A soft hint of an Australian drawl could be heard as he once again addressed you “I knew it was you! I would recognise that dancing anywhere!” You throw your arms around his neck with enough force to cause him to rock back on his heels.

“My god how long has it been?”

“Feels like a lifetime! But in reality about 9 years”

“Gosh I have missed you Mattie” You turn to Dean to introduce him, you spot the look of utter confusion making up his physiognomy. You decide he is far too gone for you to even attempt to fill him in on your history with Mattie.

“Sammy you mind babysitting this one?” You ask as you jab your thumb in Dean’s general direction

“Nah, couldn’t think of anything better” Mocking disgust at his sarcasm you turn to Mattie who is doubled over; one arm behind his back and the other folded across his stomach

“May I have this dance malady?” He says, extending his hand for you to take.

“Why of course kind sire” And with that he lifts you into the air, placing you down in the middle of the floor. The two of you begin to jive as ‘Baby Like to Rock It” by The Tractors draws to an end, giggling at your poor timing the two of you fall into an embrace as “When a Man Loves a Woman” begins to play. His chin lightly rests on the top of your head as you lean into his lean body, the last time the two of you danced like this was ten years ago at your 18th birthday party. It had been about eleven in the evening, the majority of your friends were passed out on the couch or silently dancing together to this very track, you had felt just as safe in his arms then as you did in this moment. It was the thought of this safety that led you to act without thinking of the consequences; it was then that you kissed your best friend on the cheek.

You hear a loud thump followed by a “Fuck. DEAN!” The next thing you know Mattie is throwing you to the floor, landing besides a dishevelled Sammy, and Dean has got his hands around Matt’s throat. You can tell that Dean has sobered up entirely, as steady on his feet as he is on a hunt, he has got Mattie’s feet desperately trying to find solid ground whilst his fingers scratch at Dean’s hands. Never before have you frozen in the midst of a fight but this was different. This time, the man that you love isn’t attacking a monster or a killer, he is attacking your best friend and you had never seen such pure desire for destruction of something that posed no threat. In all honesty it scared you a little, and it would have turned you on were it not Mattie who was at the receiving end of Dean’s incredible strength.

Matt’s hands were no longer fighting as enthusiastically as they had been, you could see he was turning a very pale, very unhealthy, colour. Luckily Dean saw this too, so decided to relieve the pressure a little, slamming his target against the floor of the bar, kneeling over Matt’s weak body. Turning to look to Sam for assistance you could see he was already standing, assessing the best way to stop Dean, he decided just to go for it and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling with all his strength. Though Sammy was taller, Dean was the more stubborn, elbowing his younger brother in the face before continuing to pummel his fists into Matt’s torso; using the same patterning he had taught you. You watched on in desperation, barely aware of your own voice screaming stop, as Dean’s right hook crashed into the base of Mattie’s ribs, barely a second went by before he repeated this but on the other side. Dean repeated this, left right left right, until he grew bored, or felt that is was no longer inflicting enough pain, you breathed a sigh of relief as Dean sat up, breathing heavily with his fists hanging limp at his side, with his eyes now vacant there was a calmness to him which gave you hope that he was finally finished. Cautiously you rose to your feet, taking those few short steps over to him, tentatively you reached out, touching Dean’s shoulder lightly. Slowly he lifted his head, looking you in the eye, instead of finding comfort in your presence like he usually did, he saw something that sent him overboard; his expression twisting into one of unadulterated rage as he battered his cracked and bloodied fist into Mattie’s face.

Sensing that Dean would not be stopping anytime soon, Sam once again attempted to prize his brother of off your best friend. This time he was successful; putting an end to this sanguinary event. Dragging Dean out of the bar and into the backseat of the impala whilst Dean flailed about, fighting to break free, but Sam had a stronger grip than before. You could see the mental and physical concentration that the task was requiring, as Sam’s brows were deeply furrowed and his lips were curled up into a snare. You knew you should go give Sammy a hand but there was no way you were abandoning Mattie when he was in this state. Gently elevating Matt’s head, you tuck your knees under him so that he won’t choke on any blood in his throat and really for your own comfort as much as his. You gently run your fingers through his hair, whispering “sorry” over again in between promises of “it will be okay” and reassurance that you won’t leave his side no matter what.

You’re on your hundredth repetition of an “I’m right here baby, you are going to be okay” when Sam came running back in asking if there was anything he could do to help. You knew he was only trying to help but you couldn’t have Dean anywhere near you right now, sobbing you beg him to “just get him out of here”, thinking you meant Matt, he goes to scoop him into his arms but you point in the general vicinity of the car. “Him! Get that Demon away from me!” you scream, your strength collapsing as you whisper go. With that Sam nods, understanding that it is not him you are angry with and the shouting is directed towards Dean but he is too far away so Sam is happy to step in as the punching bag. You don’t even see him leave as you hang your head in defeat, tears streaming down your face, hair tickling the already forming patches of blue and purple on Matt’s cheeks. Somewhere behind you, you can hear Rick on the phone to 911, giving them the address of the bar to pass onto the paramedics. Yes an ambulance is on its way, no it won’t be long, just hold on they are only 20 minutes away, no there is no ambulances in closer proximity, try not to move him any further, don’t let him go to sleep. Just as Rick confirms that he saw the attacker you shoot him a look, one he recognises immediately as meaning to keep that piece of information between you, therefore all he tells them is that the man responsible was a white man in jeans and a black shirt and that he is sorry he couldn’t give a more helpful description. You mouth a silent thank you, receiving a nod in response as he finishes answering the respondent’s questions.

All you can do now is wait, praying to Castiel in hope that he will heal Mattie, or keep you company at least.

You had waited at the bar until the ambulance came, insisting that you rode with him to the hospital. Holding his hand the entire way, whilst his was limp and unresponsive in your own. Sam had called you begging for you to come home, insisting that Matt would pull through and that you were no good to him or yourself whilst you were exhausted and angry. It was more for Sam’s sake than your own that you had decided to hitchhike your way home, not that you told him that was what you were doing, it was for the benefit of your best friend that you swallowed your anger as you stood outside the bunker.

As you made your way down the stairs you could see an exhausted Sam, presumably passed out, with his head in the crook of his arms laid out on the table. A mop of brown hair was the main identifiable aspect of the slumped figure before you, logically it would seem as though Sam had waited up for you, for the entire three hour drive from Nebraska, and that wasn’t including the time it took to find people who were willing to take you small sections of the journey. What you couldn’t see though was a sign of the other Winchester. Deciding not to think too much about it, about him, you decide to wake Sam so that he can move into his real bed and relax a little.

Reaching out to lightly tap him on the shoulder, you haven’t even crossed half the distance before Sam has his wrist gripped tight around your wrist. His fingernails cutting into your thin skin, a predatory growl rises in his throat it was the sort of sound that you thought would come from a lion if poked with a stick one too many times. You couldn’t quite tell but none the less you were certain that his eyes were still closed beneath the now, demonically, dishevelled locks; despite this it was as though you could feel the fire in his eyes directed towards you. Convinced that even a twitch of the toes might send him into attack, you held your breath, as you watched the heavy pattern which his chest appeared to follow whilst small bursts of air were sharply exhaled through his flared nostrils with every fall of his chest. You could feel the blood starting to rise to the top of your skin as Sam’s grip tightened, cracking your bones slightly. Despite this you remain calm, observing that his sporadic breathing had slowed a fraction, interpreting this as a chance to act your quietly whisper his name, one this doesn’t seem to worsen his state you try again but this time with the term of endearment both you and Dean use specifically, the only people who are allowed to; “Sammy?” you purr. It appears as though he recognises your voice, or the name, as his grip loosens slightly. Still afraid to move you remain in your exact positioning as you start to talk him out of his attack; “Sammy? Baby? It’s Y/N, I’m right here…” trailing off you notice his shoulders are no longer so dramatically hunched over. “It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anything happen to you.” His breathing has returned to almost normal, deeming it safe enough you slip your hand out of his grasp, re-positioning it above his head. Tenderly you begin to stroke his hair, humming promises of safety. “Shhh, don’t worry, Little Winchester is home and she’s going to make you coffee and pancakes”, as he rests his head against your stomach you continue to sooth him with hushed tones, the same way you had comforted Mattie almost a day ago.

Regaining his composure he pulled away, running his hand down your arm in gratitude, knowing that right now you could really do with someone taking care of you instead of the other way around. Smiling sadly, he informs you that he had given Dean a time out. “I locked him in his room, he is probably sulking, probably still a little drunk, I’m not too sure of the situation if I am honest…” he started explaining, but realising you really just needed a distraction he switches up the atmosphere, returning to his bubbly self instead of the serious quiet of a concerned brother. “I know exactly what you need!” Without warning he tucks when arm under the back of your and places the other against your shoulder blades, scooping you into his arms he carries you into the kitchen. Plopping you down on the counter-top he points a finger at you as he tells you to ‘stay’. Doing as you are told, you sit still, the only things moving were your legs which were swinging back and forth against the counter and your head which was following Sam around the kitchen as he flitted from one cupboard to another. Next to you a mound of ingredients was beginning to form; two glass bottles of the best Maple Syrup around, three lots of 250 ml tubs of ice cream in chocolate, honeycomb and vanilla accompanied by two silver serving spoons, a selection of chocolate bars and a bottle of red wine to top it off. Cocking an eyebrow in Sam’s direction he just shrugs “you mentioned pancakes”.

This was certainly not pancakes. This was diabetes and heaven combined.

You hadn’t expected wine mixed with ice cream to taste so sweet, the two of you were sat at the table, shovelling scoops of ice cream out of the tubs and into your mouths, before swallowing you would drop broken up bits of chocolate into the others open mouth and squirt a dollop of maple syrup on top. It was the moments like this that you loved, you and Sam had always had a good relationship, way before you and dean had. As you were placing another spoonful of honeycomb on your tongue, you noticed a mischievous gleam in the eyes of your partner in crime, running the spoon along your tongue to get the remainder of the ice cream of, you studied him. As soon as you placed the spoon back in the pot Sam had his arms around your waist and was pulling you onto his lap, he allowed you to reach for your spoon and bring the food slightly nearer before he gave you a massive bear hug; it the kind that made you melt into his body, seeking the comfort and safety that his giant form provided. You sat like that in silence for a moment, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your nose, you were content to just remain this way but he had other ideas. You felt the muscles in his arms tense as his arms around your waist tightened their grip to hold you in place. “Y/N…” He sounded cautious, as though he didn’t know how to proceed, you could feel his jaw shift as he chewed the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words.

Just as you thought he had decided not to say anything more, his posture changed as his back straightened, allowing him to reach his full height and tower above you. Damn this was serious. With a clearing of the throat he continued. “You really should go talk to him”

“I know, but I just can’t right now.”

He responded whilst rubbing his thumb in small circles on your waist. “I know you’re mad and upset. What he did was unacceptable…”

“Damn right it was!” You interrupted.

“BUT, if you guys don’t talk about it, it will eat you alive.” You pulled away slightly to get a better look at his face. His eyes locked onto yours, nothing but pure concern for you was in them, you got the feeling he wasn’t doing this for his brother bu1t instead for you.

Ducking your head, you whisper out a confession. Your stomach tying into knots as you finally allowed the truth to be revealed. “I’m scared Sammy.”

“I know Y/N. I know. But it will get better I promise.”

“Of him…”

To that Sam had no response, speechless with shock, he looked you over with his mouth agape. Cupping your head in his hands he pulls you against his chest, kissing the top of your hair, rubbing his free hand along your arm. Grateful that he didn’t push it any further you decide that, if you are unable to trust your best friend, with the things that were worrying you, than how the hell were you going to survive this lifestyle. Sure there was Dean but that was different. He never stood back, he was never able to just listen. You knew that this was a safe space, that Sam would never push you to tell him more or start an argument or get over-protective. He just let you do whatever you needed to too get by.

“I know Dean and I fall out a lot, over the little things, but that’s never like this. It’s over in a handful of minutes. It’s usually all words or the silent treatment. But this, this is different.” Stroking your hair to let you know he was still listening, you took it as encouragement to carry on. “He almost killed someone Sam!” “I just, I am scared he will hurt me…”

Holding you closer to his chest Sam finally said something in response, “He would never dream of hurting you Y/N. I don’t think he physically could even if he tried.”

“The only other time that I have seen him so violent was when he had the mark, and even then he was able to focus it on the bad guys.”

Pressing his lips into a firm line, you can practically hear the gears churning away in Sam’s head; an audible ding sounding as they settle into place. “He won’t hurt you, I promise he won’t. If you go talk to him I will be right outside waiting to come a distressed damsel. You can use our code word if anything goes wrong. How does that sound?”

“Logical.” You laugh before adding to your response. “I think you’re right. I should go talk to him…”

Sam nodded encouragingly as you paused with one hand wrapped around the door knob, the other ready to turn the key to unlock the door. With a deep breath you opened the door. You were greeted by sight of a very angry, very tense, 6 foot 1 monster who was pacing in the corner of the room. Clearing your throat, you take a step forward, pausing as the man turned around, catching sight of you. You could see his fists forming a ball as his eyes searched yours for a moment. Within a split second he was slamming the door, too pissed off with you to see Sam stood to the left of the doorframe, his voice was hoarse as though it had been unused for the past handful of days. Though gruff there was no weakness behind the deep rumble which you had fallen in love with. “How the hell could you do this to me Y/N!?” As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, he waved dismissively, deciding he wasn’t done just yet, his voice was at full volume in a mixture of desperation and anger. “How could you have the audacity to come in here as though you did nothing wrong?”

Refusing to give in to the bait, you force yourself to remain calm. “Dean. What did I do?”

“You know” he growled, rocking on to the balls of his feet before taking a step back, his index finger jabs in your direction as he scoffs; repeating himself.

“I don’t. If I did I wouldn’t have asked”

“You cheated” He laughs, throwing his hands up in mock-disbelief “Right in front of me!”

He stares at you, waiting for an excuse, but it takes you a moment to process the accusation. “I did no such thing Dean… and you know it”

Once again Dean resorted to elevating his voice in order to get his point across, a flush of red was creeping up his neck, tinging the base of his earlobes. “You’re a lying whore who cares about no one but themselves” he spat, stalking around the bed to get closer to you. His words hurt and he knew it so you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Dean you -”

“I what Y/N? Don’t try and twist this like you always do” he snarled.

It was below you, you knew that, but you had had enough of this bullshit and you just wanted to skip the shouting, skip the cutting words and hateful looks, you just wanted to fast forward to the inevitable makeup. Rising, well sinking, to his level you began to shout back “THE HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT DEAN?! He is my friend!”

“Friends isn’t exactly the right word…” he scoffed “I know you feel trapped here. And I know you hate me! All you had to do was tell me, you didn’t have to go make out with some stranger at a bar!” His breath was audibly laboured, laced with emotion, no longer pure anger, instead you could feel his heart breaking as he retreated to his core emotion of self-hatred.

Scared of him returning to the bad place you know he always does in these situations you try to calm yourself, breathing deeply to balance out his shallow puffs. Your voice was still shaky as you reached out to him, your fingers stopping short of his jaw as he flinched away from your touch. Letting your arm fall, heavy, against your side before muttering his name. He continued to shout over you, no longer forming coherent sentences, instead just trying to express his pain. Repeating his name, once, twice, on the third time he stops for a split second, looking at you intensely before continuing his rant. Clearly you were getting nowhere and the only way to get through to him is to play him at his own game.

Raising your voice to match the ferocity of his, you let loose “I HAVE KNOWN MATTIE SINCE HIGH SCHOOL DEAN! ALL HE HAS EVER BEEN TO ME IS MY BEST FRIEND! AND YOU ALMOST KILLED HIM. So tell me that I have no right to be here, no right to be angry, because lord knows I have more right than you do.

“You hate me! I know you do. But you didn’t need to be so cruel Y/N”

You may not have used the code word that Sam had assigned you, but somehow he knew that things were the opposite of okay, you caught a flash of brown hair out the corner of your eye as Sam popped his head round the door frame. “Gu-” he hasn’t even finished the first word of his sentence before you and Dean shout “not now Sammy!” in unison. The comforting smile that had revealed the younger Winchester’s dimple quickly fell away, a deep sadness taking its place in his viridescent eyes. Defeated he turns away, his head bowed as he walks back to what you presume to be the library.

Ignorantly you look at Dean for guidance, searching his face for some sign of whether or not you should leave Sam to have some space or not. Unsurprisingly, there is no help being offered, instead, Dean is rubbing his jawline, sighing he gestures with his right hand towards the now empty hallway. “Now look what you’ve done Y/N”. His hand falls back against his side, in response you just stare at him, mouth agape as your head shakes in disbelief. Granted you weren’t innocent, but you weren’t holey responsible either.

Spinning on your heel you follow in Sam’s footsteps, determined to go apologise for your behaviour, stopping in the entrance with one hand on the door frame, you hang your head before looking over your shoulder towards the man you loved. “Your problem is that nobody hates you more than you do. It’s that self-hatred that prevents you from letting anyone love you”. With that you carry on down the hall, past the dungeon in the direction of the library. No longer full of anger your brain is now running over what happened with Sam and what happened to Mattie. You are in the middle of making a mental note to drive back to the hospital after you have checked on Sammy when you feel a strong grip on your wrist.

Holding your breath you hope to Chuck that it is just Cas, finally making an appearance, the man behind the interruption spins you round to face him, doing so with such force that you almost slam into his chest. Looking up, expecting to find the comfort of bright blue eyes and furrowed brows, your heart drops into your stomach as you are met instead with intoxicating Green eyes. “My brother was right Y/N. We need to talk this through”. Disgusted but exhausted all you can muster in response is “What is there to talk about Dean? I’m tired of fighting and I just want to go look after my friends.” With that you pull your wrist free, storming off to your room, Sam could wait – you were no good to him like this. You text him an apology instead, accompanied by the promise of a real one when you have calmed down.

Your phone vibrates with a response a second after you have jumped onto the bed. “It’s okay, I understand it was just bad timing. I hope you are okay x” Smiling to yourself at the selflessness of his words, you barely notice Dean now standing in the doorway, looking at you with a combination of adoration and pain. Catching sight of his bowed legs you adjust to increase your sense of power; Straightened back, arms crossed, chin tilted towards the sky. Refusing to speak your gaze holds his, unless an apology was going to be the next that thing out of those plumps lips, you weren’t interested in hearing it. It was the sight of his tongue rolling over his bottom lip which cracked your façade, not enough to be noticeable but you could certainly feel yourself growing angry, not only at your boyfriend but also at yourself. The next thing you know you are stood between the door and the bed, you could hear your voice telling Dean to leave, could feel your lips moving without your instruction. In response Dean slams the door, his brows furrowed as he continues to stare you down. “You’re meant to be on the other side of the door” you snap in frustration.

“You just can’t help yourself can you Y/N?” Striding towards you with some surely dark intention, “Can’t keep your eyes of other men.” You felt your back come into contact with something hard, running the palms of your hands against the object, the heaving of your chest became less rapid, deeper almost, as you realised you were pressed up against the wall. “You look at them with that same hungry gaze you used to look at me with.”

Unwilling to lose this battle of will, you elect to stare him down with your chest heaving in anticipation as the adrenaline pumps through your veins. Beneath furrowed brows were green eyes, dark with anger, or perhaps it was lust. Your eyes wander to his lips just as his tongue darted out, flicking over his bottom lip. Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence but Dean finally gave in to his anger snapping at you; “You know what Y/N?”

“WHAT?”

“I can’t fucking stand you” and with that his calloused hands were grabbing your face as his lips carelessly crashed against yours. You could feel the hunger emanating off him as your fingers instinctively wove their way into his hair, pressing your lips against him even harder than they already were. You roll your hips against his thigh which was between your legs, the blatancy of your craving for contact drew a moan from his throat. With that Dean was pulling his hands away, you groaned at his sudden absence, he repositioned them on your hips before parting your lips with is tongue. His hands made quick work of your jeans, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, dipping his head to kiss along your jaw and collarbone as he stripped you of your bra.

Running your fingers down from the back of his head you tug his flannel shirt of his shoulders; the lean muscles of his back were soft beneath your touch as you dug your nails into his exposed torso. Growing impatient he works on his own belt, throwing it to the side haphazardly, Dean never once breaks contact with you. Once he was fully exposed, his body still pressed against yours, you felt his hands running down the back of your thighs. Hearing his unspoken words you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist as he supports your lower back. It isn’t long before he is throwing you on your bed, growling as he leans over you with his hips slotted between your legs.

Perhaps arguing wasn’t the worst thing the two of you could do.

A/N: Thank you to @the-petite-lion and @rosey-persephone for keeping me encouraged and helping me workout what the hell I was doing with this <3

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