#sam winchester my very special boy how i adore you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 9 months ago

Text

Aw thank you so much, Wayne! I'm very excited to see what you thought...

One thing I absolutely adore about Firefighter AUs is that the firehouse is always a second (or even first) home and they are all a big family. And you captured that whole flair so perfectly in the way they all joke with each other. I laughed out loud several times during this chapter! ❤️‍🔥

That's exactly what I was trying to capture here, thank you!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 I drew heavily from my love of Chicago Fire and other Dick Wolf procedurals (i.e. Law & Order, Chicago Med, etc.) to create the atmosphere here. I'm also so glad you enjoyed the lighter moments. Sometimes I wonder if things I think are funny will be funny to anyone else. 😂😂

First of, the whole “soil water” and tea discussion was so random and so amazing! Especially, Benny’s “that ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son” got me 😂

Lmfaoooo okay I love that you shouted this out, because this came from a convo I had with my dad about coffee and the shittiness of Folgers. As a Cuban/mixed Latina, I fucking LOVE coffee (but I love tea as well). ☕

And then, as expected, poor Y/N walks in with the best intentions and it’s super awkward with everyone staring and listening in. And boy, she really does love to bake! I figured she go simple with chocolate chip cookies, considering she has a demanding job, too, ya know? But girlfriend went aaaaall out. She’s a true Girl Scout 👀👏

Oooh this was intentional -- you'll see why she's such an intense baker. (And it was awk as hell, wasn't it? lol She did her best to push through.)

“Call me Dean, baby girl” – I gasped and snorted 🤣 Meg’s my favorite so far. Loved the whole teasing! Of course they’d do that lol

LOL Meg was so fun to play with in this story. It was my first time really writing her, but I just love her vibe. (Though you might not like her so much in a future chapter coming up...)

And I must have watched too much This Is Us because I read Gordon’s “introduce her to a brother” in full Randall nerd voice instead of creepy Gordon voice 😂

Ooooh I still need to see This Is Us, but I've heard it's fantastic!! Though you might have mixed feelings about Gordon in this story. 😅

And oh my God! There is indeed MURDER! YAY! I’m legit so excited about this. I love a good murder mystery. God knows I watch too many true crime docs and cop shows 😆 Also love that John is a detective and Cas is his partner. What an odd pairing that surely leads to a lot of fun interactions 👏 Also love how you tied the murders in with canon! So clever! Now watch me guess who the murderer is for the next fifteen parts like a game of Clue 🔍🤓

Girl SAME. I grew up on L&O and other procedurals. It's part of the reason I couldn't not make Sam an ADA in this story.

And ikr, John and Cas are an odd pairing, but it was an idea that just sort of clicked in my mind, as well as trying to tie in some canon storyline into the murder mystery to provide a main drive for John. Thank you! Lol ah-la Clue, all I'll say is, it might not be who you expect...

The sheer anger I felt when that “subhuman Neanderthal” opened his trash can of a mouth… My whole body tensed! Can we please murder him? Please, please, please! God, I hope that ape becomes the next victim of our serial killer 🔪💀

LOL I don't blame you for wanting to throw feces at Nick. He's worse than pond scum. 🤢🤮 And unfortunately, he's gonna be around for a while as a main antagonist. But you'll eventually see what his ultimate fate is...

But then came thankfully my second favorite part of this chapter, which was some good ol’ Winchester brothers bickering and some more teasing of Dean. Again, Benny killed me with his “Clap” comment omfg 🤣🤣🤣 What the hell, Dean? Carpet burn?! Get your shit together, man 😂

Lmfaoo I'm so glad you enjoyed that scene -- it was probably my favorite to write, besides Dean meeting her again at the firehouse. And oh, Dean is ridiculous for sure. He's been a special brand of "hit and run" guy up until now, though you'll also see how he tries to do better going forward. 😂😂

Though totally agree, hitting on someone in front of Jo isn't classy. He's honestly so lucky the reader has no idea he used to date her. 🙄 Fucking men indeed. Thought she really has no idea what she's getting into with Dean, or even he with her. 😂 It's gonna be a bit of a roller coaster with these two.

Again, thank you so much for your lovely review of this chapter!! I'm so excited for you to see what's coming up! 💕💕

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback #Lieutenant Winchester

818 notes · View notes

jay-and-dean · 4 years ago

Text

More like him

Dean x reader

So I had this request :

I loved it, but it was a real challenge because I thing it wouldn’t be really “Dean like” to go on a diet. It took me months to manage to be satisfied by it. I really hope you like it. Oh, and I added a little Smut, couldn’t help it.

For me this fic is kinda part of the Become that Girl “saga”.

Warning : Swearing. Sassy Sam. Suffering and mentions of unhealthy behaviors and drinking. Jealous Dean. Insecurities. Smut. Unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Angst. Fluffy Fluff.

This is both in Reader’s Pov and Dean’s Pov

Words : 10.3 k (yes. You asked for it.)

Jay’s MASTERLIST

Dean’s Pov

A grunt and a yawn. I turn around, a little pain in my neck from sleeping on the same position for hours.

I drank too much last night, again. My arm blindly searches for a bottle of water in the deep dark of my windowless room to fight the intense dry feeling in my mouth, but I find nothing.

“Shit.”

One more night in a shady bar, one more hangover, and one more woman I won’t remember.

Woman…

I frown with my eyes still closed and think of her, my stomach gets sick. She was among the prettiest girl I have been with, and she was a little too young for me, I’m sure she wasn’t twenty-five yet. I remember her friends, young and fit boys and girls, celebrating a birthday.

It’s really something how you see things differently when you’re drunk and when you are not. Maybe that’s why I drink so much : the sober truth gives me the creeps. Yesterday, I was feeling lucky, honored that a beautiful woman had laid her eyes on me, amazed by how confident she was. It felt like I had won the lottery of life, sex life at least. I was on top of the world, I could barely walk straight, but I didn’t care.

This morning is different. I lay here, nausea making me sweat, disgusted by my own smell and the taste in my mouth, wondering how I came home. I drove Baby drunk like Hell, I could have hurt someone, or damaged her.

“Shit” I grunt again.

How pathetic it is to go look for a college girl to feel alive ? How pathetic it is to spend the whole time we spent together too focused on trying not to be too old or too drunk to actually enjoy any of it ? How pathetic it is to think of another woman, the very second my eyes open ?

I need coffee.

I get up and make my way to the bathroom to pee and take a shower, I can’t stand the smell on me : alcohol sweat, the detergent of the cheap motel room I took not to bring her to our secret home, and, well, shame.

After brushing my teeth, I drink all I can from the sink and wonder if she is here. I really hope she is.

Y/n.

The woman I call my friend. The person that have actually been my closest friend with Benny and Cas, maybe even closer. If she’s in the kitchen, she will make fun of me, she will make loud pan noises just to make my headache worse because she says hangover is not enough punishment for hurting my body like that. But in the end, she will probably order pizzas and spend the day with me in the Dean cave not really watching movies while talking about any kind of stuff from hunts to music, from social matters to memories, food -she talks about food a lot, with sparkles in her eyes-, movies, sharks during shark week, horror movie clichés, her childhood, mine, and really intimate things like Hell, Purgatory, like my mom, her dad, our dreams...

I didn’t know I had so much dreams.

I put on underwear and the grey robe, then shuffle my way to the kitchen in the slippers that makes her call me grandpa.

Sam is there. All energetic, dressed with those black sweatpants and this ridiculously tight shirt, he's pressing oranges or whatever, and it's noisy as hell.

"Can't you be quite in the morning ?" I groan with a pained frown, sitting with my coffee in front of me.

"Morning ? It's noon, Dean. So, how was last night ? I guess it must have been great considering how late you came back."

"You heard me come back ?" I ask, wondering how late it actually was.

"No, but Y/n waited for you, and around five a.m. she thought you weren't coming home at all, so she went to bed. That's why we haven't been running yet, she barely slept."

I look at him but he's now turning his back on me to fill a bottle with water.

She has to stop doing that, waiting for me. I told her a few times already but it's like she was a worried mom or something. Y/n is always like that, she worries too much, every cut on Sam or me is a mortal wound, every yawn is a sign of exhaustion. And even if I secretly love this way more than I'll ever admit, I can't let her wait for me all night.

"Hey Dean" her voice catches my attention and I turn to meet her tired eyes.

How can she smile like that after the night she had ? How can she give me that kind smile? I really don't deserve it. I'm disgusting, damaged, violent even... Look at her.

She walks in and I can't help but drift along her naked legs, strong and soft. She's wearing her working out shorts, the ones torturing me some days, those tiny grey shorts holding her waist, that makes it impossible to not linger on her thighs. The t-shirt she wears is one of mine, or was, since she never gave it back. It's a plain back worn out t-shirt that has really nothing special. She says it's the comfiest.

"Hangover ?" she asks, handing me a slice of her apple.

"Yeah" I grunt, taking it.

I don't like rabbit food and she knows it. So instead of telling me to eat some, like Sam constantly tried for a while, she just gives me little bites of hers. A piece of apple there, a bite of banana, a little of spinach on her fork... and I always let her feed me, maybe just because she does with that adorable kind of smile each time.

"You came back late" she states, turning her back on me.

There is not an ounce of reproach in her voice, but something slightly sad. Maybe she pities me. If she had seen my evening, she would for sure.

A flash of that girl from yesterday saying my tattoo is weird and old fashion comes to my mind and I rub my face.

"Is there a hunt ?" I ask.

I really need a hunt, I really need some action and to get out of here.

"No" my brother lightly shakes his head.

"I thought I had found one" Y/n adds. "But it turns out it really was a bear this time !"

Her chuckle warms my heart.

"Movies in my room ?" I offer, trying to sound like it doesn't really matter, but the truth is, this perspective is what got me out of bed...

Reader's Pov

I cut another slice of apple with my hunter knife and give it to him.

"Hum, maybe later" I answer, looking away. "Sam and I planned on running to the lake..."

"The lake !" he almost chokes. "It's like twelve miles away !"

Sam chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder, to inform me he's ready to go. He has been waiting for me a long time already, but I needed to check on Dean before I left for the day.

"Yeah..." I mumble. "And I want to practice my gun skills after, of fight skills if Sammy is not too tired from the running."

"I could help you practice too" he states and I give him a knowing smile.

Dean is not interested in training me, he never was. And, unlike me, he barely needs practice himself anyway, so why should he care ? He's just the best, that's natural. He's Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, the best man, the best everything actually. Between the ladies waiting in line to get a piece of him and his friends, the parties, but above all, constantly saving the world... He doesn't have time for me. We're not made of the same wood, I'm from those who have to work hard to keep up. And I never want to be a burden for any of them.

"What ? I could !" he grunts and his brother laughs.

"Yeah right, Dean" Sam mocks him, giving me my bag. "You would probably get a stitch from just stretching with Y/n ! She's getting good !"

"Don't listen to you brother" I assure Dean with a little smile on the corner of my lips.

I walk out of the bunker with Sam's back in front of me and bite my cheek, trying to ignore that sharp pain in my chest.

That pain that fell on me again while I was waiting for him, trying to not imagine what he was doing, that dread burning my guts ; and the other, even worse, pain that kept me awake once I was finally sure of what he was doing.

Once outside, the tall hunter stretches a little, humming at the soft spring breeze.

"Why did you wait again" he finally speaks, earning only a sigh from me. "Y/n... I know you need to make sure he's safe but you're hurting yourself. Talk to him..."

"We already talked about this" I just shrug before I start running.

Dean's Pov

I stay in the kitchen, my heart pounding in my head, my liver struggling.

Of course she won't spend the day with me. Why would she ? She waited all night and I was busy partying like those pathetic guys who didn't understand college is over.

You didn't even went to college...

Sipping at my coffee, I think of my brother’s hand on her shoulder and shiver, not really understanding why. I mean, he’s her friend too, a good friend actually, but something changed lately. They are close, more and more every day.

She used to spend all her time with me and now that I think of it… She does with him now. It started with morning runs, then there were going to the grocery store together. They cooked, Sam never cooked in his life, she taught him a few “healthy” recipes while I was making fun of them. Several times I found them talking until late in the library, or sending each other texts during hunts, when they were apart the whole day.

Maybe I’m missing something coming slow… Maybe the woman I think of the second I open my eyes in the morning thinks of Sam.

Why wouldn’t she ? My brother is better than me in every ways.

Sam is smart and educated, went to college and all. They can probably talk about things I have no idea of…

Sam is brave and fair. He’s the best man I know, and if I think of one man that would deserve a girl like her...

What are you saying ? There is no other girl like her.

But above all… Look at him. He just grew old way better than I did. All those healthy craps I always made fun of, in the end he’s right. While I was drinking beer for breakfast and eating fat crap, he was running, practicing. And yes, during hunts we're equals, because I was raised in this life, but if I had to catch him running, I would have a heart attack before he breaks a sweat.

I never cared about all of this. About having abs, comparing my body to my brother's, or about being healthy for that matters. Because let's be honest, I never really cared about myself. And girls like me…Right ?

Stupid.

What girls though. It was a long time since Cassie, since Lisa... And lately the one-night stands have had a bitter taste.

Sex with stranger was fun at first, for years it was. New body, new voice, new taste, and skin and preferences... I guess a guy feels pride by having sex with a lot of different women. But most of the time it's far from great and I’m tired of starting over every time.

I just wonder how it feels to actually get to know someone intimately, to learn what makes them squirm, their secrets, to wake up next to a friend... Love must be so nice.

The only person I can think of is her, Y/n. The woman that is my friend and the only one I want tell my secrets, the things that make me squirm...

My Y/n.

I grunt, my heart beating too fast because of hangover, my skin still smells alcohol despite the shower.

I'm such a wreck and she's so pure. That woman overcame bad things, and I have seen her so depressed that she barely could move at all for days in the beginning of our friendship. And yet, here she is, smiling, running and dancing in the library at night, making me want to be better every day, to think more, be less self-destructive, to feel pride more than shame. Pride for helping people, pride for my little brother that I helped grow up, and pride for being her friend.

She’s always there, smiling when I need a smile, listening even when I can’t talk, rolled up asleep on a little corner of my bed when I had a night of nightmares. Her hand was in my back when mom betrayed us and chose to leave, like it was the only thing keeping me up…

I can’t imagine her gone, impossible. And I’m realizing, I can’t imagine her in the arms of another man. That’s selfish, but I have to admit it now. I love her. And I want her, I need her.

Yet all I do is pushing her in my brother’s arms. In my brother’s strong and fit arms…

Reader’s Pov

I’m running, my feet hurt and I have a stitch on my left side, my thighs are already sore and my skin and lungs are burning. But I ignore them. I run.

I run to ignore my imagination and the images it brings. Dean laying on his back, giving his precious body to a blond girl that doesn’t even know who he is, how lucky she is. Dean grunting when she swallows around him. Dean grabbing her hair, biting her neck, coming inside her. Dean with two girls, why not…

I run.

“Y/n !” Sam’s voice interrupts me. “Wow, easy tiger.”

Out of breath, he puts his hands on his knees and frowns at me.

“You know the point of all of this is not to faint ? It’s about endurance, not a sprint or a race.”

“I’m sorry, Sam” I sigh, my body screaming at me even more now that I stopped.

“Is this about Dean ?” he asks, making me roll my eyes.

“How running too fast could be about your brother ?” I grunt.

“You know perfectly why I say that” he shrugs, drinking from his water bottle. “Avoiding him won’t prevent the hurt.”

“It avoids the nausea from smelling cheap perfume on him at least…” saying that, I sit on a bench that is close in a huff. “I just…” I sigh, burying my face in my hands. “How do I avoid the hurt then ?”

“Talk to him” my friend says, joining me on the bench to sit next to me, his tall shadow wrapping me like angel wings, hiding me from this world I hate right now.

“Don’t be ridiculous” I scoff. “Hey Dean, could you not have sex with anyone ? It hurts me. Thank you.”

Sam lets out a chuckle and bumps my shoulder with his giant arm.

A woman in an elegant sports outfit runs pass us, her tall form bouncing on her thin legs with grace, making her shiny hair fly. Dean would like her, he would totally sleep with her… Oh wait, we’re in Lebanon, there aren’t many girls that pretty around here, maybe he already did…

“How about ‘I have feelings for you’ ?”Sam suggests with puppy eyes and a childish adorable shrug.

I sigh, rubbing my face. Why doesn’t Sam understand ?

“Yeah so it can make our friendship awkward forever, with pity and shit” I look down at my hands. “Or so he chooses to erase my memory like he did with Lisa ?”

A silence falls between us.

Sam knows what I think of this, how angry it makes me. Of course I don’t want to see him with Lisa, in fact my heart arches each time I think of what they had together, but take those memories from her… It wasn’t his choice to make. I happened to put myself in her shoes and hated it. I would rather long for a single smile from him all my life than being amputated of the only part of me I cherish : My love for him.

The second reason I hate it is because of what it says about him : Dean is really convinced that he is not good enough. For anything, for anyone.

During one of our nights in the Dean cave together, not really watching movies and drinking whiskey, he talked about it. And I know how much Lisa and him were meant to break up eventually. She wasn’t a hunter, and she didn’t really want to know about this life, even if she respected it. He was holding on to her like she was his only chance at happiness because, in his mind, happiness can’t come with the hunter life.

Erasing her memory was not only a way to “protect her”, it was a closure for him. Away of closing the normal life door forever and throw away the key.

“You know he doesn’t think he deserves…” Sam starts but I cut him.

“Don’t.”

I am a hunter. And despite the fact that I am desperately in love with my friend and going crazy with jealousy, I am pretty happy.

I am happy with my life, my heroic, never boring, full of magic life. I mean, they lost a lot, but do they think people with an apple pie life don’t ? Before I became a hunter, I went to so many funerals that the funeral home employees knew me personally before I hit puberty. And when you lose your family to cancer and heart attack, or suicide… You don’t even get to know for sure they’re in Heaven.

But I am a hunter now, and I know. I am relieved and I feel safer, because magic exists, Heaven exists, and angels, even if they are quite different from what I had imagined.

“I just want Dean to be happy” I sigh and Sam’s giant hand rubs my back.

That’s the truth. I wish with all my heart that Dean would realize he can be happy now. That the horror he has been through is over, and that the hunter life he can’t quit doesn’t mean he has to be miserable.

And that is the reason I have to be the best friend I can. That’s the reason I have to swallow that jealousy that is making me bitter, to just love him, as selflessly as I can.

“Can we go home ?” I ask and Sam nods.

Dean’s Pov

I close the bathroom closet and swallow the pill, bending to drink water from the sink, then stand in front of the mirror.

I never really thought of it, but I’m a little pudgy. My hips are not straight and firm, is my butt a little large ? I frown, making my wrinkles appear and sigh. And those freckles… I never really paid attention to them until that college girl said something about it. Something with a kind smile but her mean girl voice betraying her : “I guess it’s cute, but it always kinda look like the skin is dirty, you don’t have too many on the face so it’s okay”. Why do I have so many freckles ? Dad didn’t, mom either I think, not on her face anyway, and Sam… Sam’s skin is darker than mine, and perfectly smooth. Y/n must like that too.

Stop whining like a teen.

I walk to my room and sit there, trying to ignore the voices in my head saying Y/n likes my brother. Does he like her too ?

I take my headphones and turn the music on loud, closing my eyes, too bad for the headache, the silence is worse anyway.

I’m in Hell, tied up like Alastair used to chain me, but I’m not hurt. Sam enters and points his finger at me.

“You will never be as good as me” he says. “Dad was better, I am better, and the woman you love ?” His laugh is terrifying, evil.

He puts his finger on my stomach and pushes it harder and harder on me, until it hurts.

Until it hurts a lot.

“You’re soft” he says, covering my whines of pain, that come out with my child voice now. “Dad was right, you’re too soft. Your heart is soft, your body too. You couldn’t say no to Alastair, like you can’t say no to a burger” his finger is so strong, like metal, and it feels like it is going to go through my skin and muscles any moment. “You have no self-control. You’re pathetic, Dean… Dean ? Dean.”

I gasp, half sitting when I open my eyes.

“Sorry” Y/n says, and I look up to find her next to my bed, her hands up in a peace gesture.

“You’re back ?” I ask, still slightly panting.

The sight of her worried face makes my heart slow, and I notice she’s wearing that comfy pajama of hers, the very loose t-shirt draping lazily from her body, embracing her sweet curves.

“I got tired of running” she smiles kindly, finally plunging her hands in her sweatpants pockets.

I grunt and look at my watch, I have been sleeping a few hours, and I think the hangover is gone.

“I came to ask you if you were hungry and… You didn’t seem well” she nibbles at her lips. “Sorry if I scared you.”

I rub my eyes and give her a weak smile.

“You didn’t” I state. “I’m super hungry, yeah.”

I am. When I drink like that, I often skip diner.

I get up and grunt, rubbing my eyes. I thank her, walk to the kitchen with her and sit at the table in a sigh.

“So” she says with that radiant smile on her face. “I was thinking of making burgers. I know I don’t cook them as good as you, but !”

She turns around and shows me her phone screen, moving it too much in her enthusiasm for me to see anything. I chuckle and grab her wrist to still it, enjoying the softness of her skin under my fingers. On the phone, a recipe. “The best burger possible”, with descriptions of how to make the onions crispy, and to make the best sauce…

“Maybe I will finally make burgers as good as yours or close” she states, taking her hand back to read the recipe.

“You know you’re cute ?” I state, but I can’t give her the tender expression I intend to, as my dream comes back to me.

Maybe I should learn to say no to a burger.

“Not as much as your sleepy head” she chants.

“You know…” I clear my throat. “Maybe for once, we should eat what you like and not my greasy crap, like Sam says.”

She stops and turns to me with a pan in her hand and a surprised look.

“But” she pouts. “Me like burger.”

I look down, trying to think of something to say, she actually looks a little disappointed. She was so proud of what she had found… That woman is like a ray of sun.

When I’m about to tell her that I would love to taste her burger, regretting having made her beautiful smile fade, she puts her phone on the table before me and starts looking in the fridge.

“I get it Dean.”

“Really ?”

“Too much alcohol, your grandpa stomach is fragile” she chuckles and I wonder how she seem to never show real hurt, annoyance or disappointment at anything I say. "Okay, you asked for it, I prepare the same for you as I do for Sam and me."

“Yeah…” I mumble.

My eyes fall on her phone and my heart flutters. She forgot to lock it, and it’s the first time I see her wallpaper picture. It’s us. Just me and her. I remember that day.

It was last summer, we were hunting a Wendigo that attacked campers, and had to camp ourselves in the wood for a night to find it. It was a beautiful night. When the photo was taken, I was telling a story, standing with a large smile on my face and a beer in my hand. Y/n came close, I don't remember why, and she wrapped her arms around me, holding my waist with her head on my shoulder.

The picture really looks like we were a couple. She's staring up at me while I tell the story, her face inches away from mine. Behind us, that beautiful lake and a part of her blue tent. I don't remember who took this photo, and I think this moment must have been very short, or I would remember it. Maybe she just came that close to tell me something in the ear, maybe it was one of those quick hugs she gives me when I say something sad or mention being hurt.

Why would she have that on her screen ? Before I can think of it further, her phone locks by itself and becomes black.

I look up, her back is still on me, she's cutting something. With a discreet finger, I touch her phone, trying to make the photo appear again but her lock screen makes me sigh.

Sam, of course Sam. It's a selfie they took together, simple and cute, both looking at the phone my brother is holding.

"I'm afraid you'll still be hungry after th-" she turns around and her eyes fall on my finger on her phone. "But if you are, there is pie" she states, taking her phone to put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

Like she needed to hide something, like she was embarrassed that I saw that Sam is on her screen.

She arranges her salad or whatever she's making, puts a plate in front of me, and two others for Sam and her.

"Sam !" she calls and I look down at the plate.

I must say my it is pretty, all colorful. I recognize avocado, tomatoes... But as pretty as it is, it doesn't make me hungry, rabbit food never does.

"Oh wow, Dean is grounded or something ?" my brother chuckles, entering the kitchen.

"Leave him alone" she answers before I can make a comment. "His stomach is still upset."

Sam gives me suspicious look, I never ate this kind of veggie plate in my life, if my stomach is really upset, I wait an hour, and the second it's better, I fill it with beef jerky.

I can see my brother is waiting for me to make a comment, complain. But when I don't, he just shrugs and starts eating, talking to her about something I don't listen to. I take a piece of avocado with my fork and when I look up to her, she's staring at me, her beautiful eyes searching my face.

"You can change your mind Deanie. I can still make bacon" she smiles.

"N-no really I'm okay" I state, eating a green thing without enthusiasm.

"Oh wow" Sam sneers. "Dean says no to bacon !"

I swallow the lump in my throat and feel my cheek redden despite my effort to be as stern as possible. I don't need his smart words, and I don't need to see them being so perfect with each other. Getting up, I put the fork down.

"You know Sam, I actually can say no from time to time."

Leaving the room, I rub my face.

Reader's Pov

I stay still, my eyes on the kitchen exit where Dean just disappeared. Something is wrong, really wrong.

I have seen Dean sad, grumpy and pushing people away, but this is new.

"I should go check on him after diner" Sam says. "He obviously have something on his mind."

"Yeah..."

My phone buzzes, it's him.

Hey Sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving without eating what you prepared. Please tell Sam to not check on me. I'm going to bed, I'm just tired.

Dean is never "just tired".

Okay Deanie. Don't worry for the food. Please if you need something, remember I'm right here.

Dean didn't come out of his room at all.

I waited a little in the kitchen, finishing that stupid show I had started the day before, when he was out with yet another woman. I was hoping maybe he would show up to eat something, and then I could talk to him, but he didn't.

"Y/n" Sam's voice makes me jump slightly, frowning at the too bright light. "Did you fell asleep out of bed again ?"

I look around, my laptop battery died, I don't know how long ago and I have no idea of what time it is.

My friend lets out a deep sigh, offers me his hand and closes my laptop. I get up and follow him, a new ache in my back.

"What was it this time ?" he asks opening the door to my room. "And don't say it has nothing to do with him."

I frown, close the door and sigh letting myself fall sitting on my bed.

"He didn't eat" I mutter and Sam rolls his eyes. "What ? You admitted yourself that something is off."

"Can I sit ?" he asks, taking place beside me on the bed when I nod. "Your crush for my brother, it was cute at first..."

I can see him hesitate, and I know I won't like what he has to say.

"But ?"

"But this is getting unhealthy" he looks down. "You know I love my brother, b-but I think he's not a good thing for you in the end."

My eyes get wet but I keep listening silently.

"Dean is... We all are damaged. You can't stand seeing him angry or hurt but, you know, he is most of the time. Y/n you can't keep spending your nights on wooden chairs just in case he need a freaking sandwich. You're a hunter, a warrior !"

I want to protest, it's not that simple. But nothing come out of my mouth. When tears roll on my face, he opens his arms, welcoming me against him.

I can't love Dean less, he knows that. But for the first time, he's telling me that he disagrees ; and that changes everything. Sam was always the one kindly making fun of me or taking pictures discreetly for me to stare at on my phone at night. What if he decides he has to talk to Dean ? What if he gets tired of me, his best friend ? And what if he's right ?

"You have to talk to him" he states, making my fears cut my air supply for a moment.

"I-I can't" I sob, half panicking.

"You know he really loves you..."

I let go of his arms, not really wanting to hear more but he keeps holding me.

"What are you so afraid of ?" he sighs.

Dean's Pov

I'm hungry. My stomach is gurgling and I feel a little dizzy, I need to eat, it's not like I was going to be more like Sam by starving or skipping meals anyway. I will never be like him. More like Sam is not only a muscle thing, he's also taller, smarter, better...

Coming out of my room, I rub my face, thinking of her pretty face a little shocked when I left. I should apologize.

After a very quick shower, I put on my grey robe and slippers again, walking to her room slowly.

I rarely felt that weak, after my heart failure years ago, or after a big blood loss... But hunger like that, I didn't feel it since that week dad left and I lost the food money. I was ten or eleven... I remember feeding Sammy with stolen food, and eating only the leftovers, a piece of fruit, a crust of bread... Sam was starting to realize something was odd. I was so tired...

I am so tired.

I ate eggs at lunch the day I went out, then nothing on the evening. And yesterday... Nothing either. I haven't eaten for like forty hours, not even the crusts of Sam's sandwich or three gummy bears he forgot on the nightstand this time. And I'm starting to shake.

It's enough. I will apologize, make coffee and breakfast for both of us, and ask her to come to my room to continue our "What you haven't seen that ? It's a classic !" marathon movie.

Just when I'm about to knock at her door, it opens.

Sam.

My brother comes out of her room... in the morning ; his perfect pecks showing through his t-shirt and his arms covered of superman veins.

"Dean" he says, surprised.

Then he closes the door behind him, not letting me in, and I feel my blood go down on my feet, making me dizzy.

"Give her a minute" he states, and leaves.

I stay in front of the door, looking at it like I could see through it. A minute ? What, is she still naked ? Panting ? Dirty ?... I shake my head.

I can't.

I...

She's my Y/n, how can he touch her ? How can he ? I need her, I need her for me... I can't...

My breath is short and I try to fight the crushing wave of emotions almost making me fall on my knees. Sam is better, I'm a grunt, I'm damaged, dumb, unworthy... And I'm freaking fat !

The door opens and Y/n bumps on my chest jumps, very surprised to find me here.

"Dean ?" she give me a well faked smile but it fades the second her eyes meet mine. "Dean... Are you okay ?"

I nod but I know the devastating hurricane raging inside of me is showing. And I'm not sure to feel my heart anymore.

"Deanie, did something happen ?"

"N-no" I state.

"Let's get breakfast" she frowns suspiciously. "I told Sammy that I wouldn't run this morning."

Why ? Are you tired ? Sore ? Did he hurt you ?

"I'm not hungry" I state.

The truth is I can't swallow anything right now.

"Not angry ?" she bites her lip. "What is it Dean ? Are you going on a hunger strike ?"

"No" I say and realize my tone is defensive.

She sighs and looks down, licking her lips, probably to taste my brother here...

"I'm worried" she whispers. "You didn't eat at all yesterday, and I know for a fact that you didn't get up for food."

"How can you be sure ?"

Her eyes are suddenly wet, and now I know what that fake smile was hiding : tears. It's enough to make me forget in a second about my own pain, about the crushing feeling on my heart.

"Because I slept in the kitchen again" she says a little coldly before walking pass me.

Reader's Pov

I have to hide my face. I can't deal with Dean telling me my love unhealthy too, or with his questions. And I can't cry before him, I wouldn't know how to explain it.

I enter the kitchen and take eggs and bacon from the fridge. Hungry or not, he will eat a little, he needs it.

Not hungry... Is he sick ?

"Y/n..." he sighs behind me, but I don't answer, breaking the delicate eggshells against the pan edge. "Why did you sleep there ?"

"I don't know" I just say. "Why aren't you eating ?"

"I eat, Y/n."

"Not lately, no. S-so now I make you a real breakfast, like you like it, with meat and fat."

"Maybe I should stop eating that..." he mumbles for himself, but I hear him and turn around.

"What ?"

His whole body language changed. He doesn't stand with that confidence and dominance he usually has. He's hurt, hurt bad. He looks tired and pale, but not only...

"What is going on between Sam and you ?" he asks, low.

"Sam ?"

I slightly shake my head in confusion.

I don't understand his question, I don't understand the pain on his face. Something happened when he went out, did someone hurt him ?

Suddenly, a smell of burn come to my nose : the eggs ! I turn and try to save them but Dean's strong wrist grabs mine, making me turn to him.

"Answer please."

His voice is more somber than angry, but his gesture is firm and he's shaking. I can see the fire raging inside of him.

"What do you mean going on ? Dean... The food" I try to turn.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT FOOD !" he suddenly yells, my heart racing and eyes wetting instantly. "I HAD ENOUGH FOOD FOR AN ENTIRE LIFE !"

His vise fingers suddenly lets go of my wrist and he takes a step back, fear on his features, like he was afraid of his own emotions. Dean is an impressive and dangerous man, but I will never be scared of him.

I wipe the tears that escaped my eyes and, on the surface calmly, turn off the fire under the burned eggs. Then I get closer to him and take his hand, way softer than he took mine a second before, under the slightly too long sleeves of his adorable robe. I decided I would be a better friend, it's my chance to be.

"If you precise your question, Deanie, I will answer. I just don't really get it" my eyes are on him, kind but firm, like I was taming a wolf.

"I..."

He doesn't manage to finish his sentence, the gearwheels of his mind visible behind his sparkling eyes. If I don't help him, he will run away, and burry it forever.

"What do you think is going on between Sam and me ?" I ask, noticing his lips are really white, even more than before. But I know he won't agree to eat right now, not until we fix what is bothering him. "Do you think, we're hiding something ?"

That would explain why he was staring at my phone yesterday. Sam and him have been deceived so often, lied to...

"Are you together ?" he cuts my thoughts. "Or is it just casual ?"

"What ? No !" I frown, letting go of his hand just a second. "Dean... Sam is my friend."

"He's perfect" he whispers.

You're perfect.

"He's amazing" I nod. "Sam is one of the best person I know..."

"He's handsome" he cuts me.

I search his face, and he nervously licks his lips. I take his hand again shyly, just the tip of his fingers. He will close again because he regrets those words. I have to answer quickly even if I'm really wondering what this is about.

"H-he is" I state. "Not really my type but he really is a beautiful man."

"You're always together... He... He slept in your bedroom" he says, taking back his hand. "You guys do what you want, but don't take me for a fool."

I take a deep breath, I won't get out of this without saying a little too much. I little of what I don't want to say. But Dean seems to need answers, and what Dean needs...

"He didn't sleep in my room, I told you I fell asleep in the kitchen. He found me, and bought me back there, tried to convince me to sleep but I was worried... and sad. Why those questions ?"

"Sad ?"

I don't want to answer now, so I continue.

"And... I spend a lot of time with him because he's my friend and..."

Being with you sometimes hurt.

He doesn't answer, and looks down at himself. Is he jealous that spend time with Sam ? We indeed used to be even closer, before my love for him started being out of control. Does he feel like that third friend the others forget a little for the fun things ?

"Dean, are you upset because I went running with Sam instead of watching movies with you yesterday ?" he looks away. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're not eating ?"

"I... I don't know" he sighs. "I'm a little dizzy."

"Sit Dean" I say, guiding him to the table. "Tell me what's going on with food. Please. You know I hate to see you bad."

He rubs his face with both hands, his scruff audible under his palm. How I wish I could kiss this jaw, how I wish I could show him how much I love him, how I know who he is, not like those girls.

"It's ridiculous..." he tries, but I sit facing him, and wait for him to talk. "I'm not... like Sam."

"Like Sam ?"

"You know... Abs and..." he motions his body. "All."

"Wait" I blink a few times. "Dean you're perfect."

He scoffs so bend a little to make him look at me.

How can he compare himself to his brother ? Where do that come from ? I know Dean struggles with serious self-hate, but would never have guessed it would reach that subject, of physical appearance... Maybe this is about a woman.

"Dean. You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen." My mouth starts freeing itself from truth I kept locked, and I can't stop it. "I'm serious. Your face looks like some masterpiece with perfect proportion, y-your eyes are ridiculously green, your jaw could cut glass, your lips..." my eyes fall on them and my words get lost. "You're tall and broad..."

"You're making me blush Sweetheart" he says, he voices back to its usual low hoarse tone. "Still I... You know I'm... a kid when it comes to food, I never exercise..."

"Never exercise ?" I smile. "Three days ago you climbed inside a house then dug a six feet deep hole on the ground, and the day after you chased a monster, fought him, and carried his body to a place where you can burn it... I say you deserve a burger."

His face seems to light up a little, but his pretty pillow lips are still too white.

"But it's not working out, like Sammy."

"Dean... Your brother likes it, he need it to focus, to think" my smile grows and I speak lower, I know my admiration is showing, and it honestly feels liberating. "And he needs that to keep up with you."

"He doesn't" he almost chuckles, finally warming my heart.

"Well, you're the best. It's natural for you, but we have to work, especially me."

"You two are better than me" he states.

"We're not. And... Dean not eating isn't going to make you feel better about yourself. It's going to wear you out, make you weak..."

"I know" he sighs.

"Can I make you a breakfast ? The color of your lips makes me want to draw a salt circle."

He chuckles fully this times, wrinkles appearing on the corner of his eyes.

I gently pat his shoulder as I get up, still not believing Dean could have insecurities like those. I throw away the burnt cold eggs and make some new, with bacon.

"I hear comments sometimes you know..." he says like it was easier now I'm not looking at him. "The things you said, that my face is nice..."

"More than nice" I admit, turning a little to him, but not fully to keep watching the pan.

"It happened that girls expect more under my shirt" he looks down. "I know it's ridiculous... I just, I don't know, maybe I feel disappointing."

"It's not ridiculous" I state under my breath, grabbing a plate to finally give him food. " Here, eat this, all of it."

"Like with the whole FBI look or with my seductive smile" he stops and grunts. "I feel like a teen."

"Hey, nothing like that between us, you know that. I told you about very embarrassing stuff" I reassure him. "And, what you're saying is interesting, men endure the social standards too."

"I... I don't know I didn't age like a model, I'm... soft."

Model.

"You know..." I start.

I pour two coffees and take a chocolate bar for myself, watching him before I keep talking, to make sure he starts eating.

"Delicious" he states, putting big pieces in his mouth.

"One of the reason I work out with Sammy is... Precisely because I don't want to look ridiculous next to two total models."

"Now that's" he starts, opening his mouth too big at how hot it still is. "That's kinda ridiculous. You're the prettiest girl ever !"

"I'm not" I whisper, softly blowing on my coffee.

"What ? You are Y/n" I lift my eyes on him, his lips are still a little light but shining with grease.

"I'm not like the girl you go out with."

I don't dare looking up, but see he stopped moving. His robe is now totally opened, the belt got loose, and my eyes are lost in the black of his shirt.

"The girls I go out with" he repeats. "You're way better than those girls."

"Oh listen to you, that doesn't sound cliché at all" I say a little too coldly, a shocked expression appears on his face. "I... I'm sorry."

"You know... the girls I go out with, that doesn't really mean anything."

"I know" I cut him to make him understand I'm not asking him to justify himself.

But he keeps talking anyway.

"I have been with divorced single moms, witnesses... college girls" he says the last one with something bitter and I take this occasion to make it about him again, and not me.

"Two day ago" I ask, although it's the last thing I want to talk about. "It was a college girl, Deanie ? Did something happen ?"

"Yeah... no" he states, answering my two questions. "I just... I just realize it wasn't really what I wanted, not anymore. And that it didn't... didn't really make me feel good about myself."

"Too young for you ?" I try to joke, giving him a piece of my chocolate bar, feeding him like I always do, with everything I have in my hand.

"Kinda yeah" he answers seriously. "I don't know... She... I wasn't frat boy enough for her I guess."

"Yes, that's exactly the idea, that you're not that !"

"I didn't really, you know... enjoy it" he says and I fight the images coming in waves in my head. "I was too focused on trying to prove something" a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "I don't even know who I was trying to convince. And she... She didn't like the tattoo, the scars, the freckles..."

"Whoa whoa ! Who's that bitch ?" I lift my hands in the air, sincerely shocked, I never knew some women would be able to not appreciate Dean.

He smiles kindly but looks at the bottom of his coffee.

Silence. I wish I could make him see who he is, I wish I could speak more, ask questions, but just talking about that stupid college girl that had him, but on top of that made him feel bad about himself...

"You look sad again" he cuts my thoughts.

"Sad ?"

"Yeah, it happens often. You start thinking deeply and you get sad" he says. "Listen... You're the most amazing friend, and woman, there is..."

"But" I whisper, echoing the conversation with Sam in my head.

"There's no 'but'" he shakes his head. "I was just going to say that I want to be a better friend, and man, for you."

"You already are the best" I smile but he doesn't smile back at all, his green eyes searching mine.

"I'm not. I let you down several times. I get why you would rely on Sammy more. I left you at this bar after that hunt when that witness was hitting on me. And I cancelled movie night twice to go out, just to feel... I don't know desired, loved maybe ? I know how absurd it is" When I'm about to talk, he doesn't let me. "And I worry you... coming home drunk as fuck in the morning." He rolls his eyes a little. "And with Baby..."

"I'm not your mom, I have to stop being so protective, Sam is right..."

"Sam ?"

That's it, the moment I say so much I regret it my whole life. But I promised my best friend I wouldn't go on like this, that I would either talk to Dean, like he wants me to, or at list try to work on my feelings to move on. It's time to stop hiding everything from the man I love and make our friendship pure again.

"Sam says..." I clear my throat. "That... I have to care a little less about you, to care a little more about me" I don't dare looking up and let out a dark chuckle. "Won't be easy... I care a lot about you."

When he doesn't answer, I finally look up, fearing what I will see on his face. He's just staring at me with an expression I never really saw on his face. His gorgeous lips are pink again, and the scruff on his cheeks, a little darker than usual, highlights the radiant light of his big beautiful eyes.

He half gets up, bending on the table. And before I can realize what's happening, he puts his lips on mine in a soft, warm kiss.

My whole body responds to it. The thin hair on my arms stick up, my heart starts beating my chest and my thighs get moist with a thin layer of sweat.

I stay frozen for a second, looking at him in disbelief, playing the quick kiss again and again in my head as he sits back.

"I just..." he clears his throat and sigh, getting up. "I'm not Sammy."

Before he can leave, before this moment becomes a memory I will struggle to think as real, before I find myself in that hole of secrets again, I get up. But he's already walking to his room.

"Dean !" I run after him, meeting him at his bedroom door. "Dean. You're not Sammy. You're you, you're perfect in every ways."

My heart is pounding. Let's do this, he needs this. Dean needs to be loved and I didn't know he needed reassurance. No one can to this better than me, because I worship him. I always said I wanted to show Dean he can be happy, and loved without changing his life for good. This is my shot at it, I may not be enough, I may not be what he wants or needs, but at least I can share with him. My devotion, my love, my body, all he wants.

And If my heart breaks, let it be a happy sacrifice.

"Your freckles are like stars in a summer sky" he frowns when my fingers come up to graze his cheek. "I already liked freckles but yours... You make any other skin look plain and boring."

His face is so close, the delicious smell of his skin reaching me. His pupils are large, just circled with that green that could make me cry.

"Your lips..." I say a little lower, looking at them intensely.

From here, I can see the few freckles that made their way on them. Then I see his tongue, slowly wetting them before he bends again, catching my lips softly, his nose bumping mine when he opens his mouth to capture my upper lip, once, twice...

I open my mouth and wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss with a shameless hunger, and all my love in it. Something blows up inside of me, something strong : need.

Dean's Pov

No drunk groans, and no shame anywhere. I kiss her like it was words, and take her inside my room.

"Your smell" she says and I feel emotions rush in every one of my veins, but it's not disturbing like it usually is. "I could bath in it, live it."

I bend to burry my face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

And I take my time, I have no reason to hurry, nowhere to go, no woman to come back to. She slips her fingers between the strands of my hair, letting me hold her close, drowning in her smell.

I want to cry, and I don't really know why. Probably because of how right this feels. Because of that relief : She not with my brother. She is not with Sam...

"Dean..." she whispers, her nails gently grazing my scalp. "Can I see you ?"

I put a kiss on her neck and murmur a tender 'yes' against it.

Her hands leave my hair to go down along my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and push my robe, making it fall like a cape at my feet. That’s how she makes me feel, like her hero.

Her chin goes up without me leaving her neck, and she gently rubs her cheek on my jaw. In a soft moan, I open my mouth to leave wet kisses on her skin.

Maybe she can be mine...

"Sometimes your voice makes me shiver" she whispers in my ear. "Just your voice... It's so deep."

Somehow her words send electricity to my crotch and I can feel my boxers getting tighter.

My hands grab her ass, pressing her against me and when she moans, I feel my cock twitch.

"Y/n..."

"You're beautiful in everything" she continues, her hands slipping under my shirt to stroke my back, her voice slightly weaken by arousal. "But when you wear henleys or just a t-shirt..." she kisses just below my ear. "I can get wet by just looking at you."

My cock twitches and I groan.

"Are you wet now, Baby ?"

She nods and I let go of her ass to cup her face, kissing her like I always dreamed of, deeply and hungrily, not caring of being in control of myself, not caring if I seem desperate.

She starts to walk, making me take a few steps back until my calf hit the edge of the bed and I sit on it. I tug at her shirt to make her straddle me, but she takes a second to take off her shorts, revealing her beautiful thighs, and her white panties.

When she finally straddles me, spreading her legs, I spot a wet stain on her panties and a low growl leaves my chest.

"Fuck... You are..." I say, my hand coming down to cup her sex through it, feeling the tip of my finger get wet.

Her body immediately contracts, and, with my middle finger pressed against her entrance, I can even feel her walls clench around nothing.

"How can you be so reactive" I groan.

"It's you..." she moans, rolling her hips just a little to feel my hands more. "Dean... No men can do this to me."

My other hand comes up to take that worn out black shirt she stole with impatience, because I notices she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

"Oh baby..." I let out, bending to kiss her breasts, my other hand teasing her more.

I'm burning up, my back sweating, my cock painfully hard. I don't remember being that turned on in my life by so little. She hasn't even touched me yet.

Her head falls back and her nipples point at me, begging me to suck at them, so that's what I do. Mouth open, I take one in my mouth, along with the most of her soft breast I can.

"Ah..." she moans and squirms above me. "Dean !"

My cock twitches at just hearing my name like that, my real name on top of that.

I slip my hand in her panties, desperate to hear more, feel more. She's soaked, her thighs contracted and her hips rolling against my hand. She doesn't form words, but her body is begging for more.

So I slip a finger inside her and feel her squeeze him, hear her gasps. I can't wait to be inside of her but that's not my only purpose... Oh God when she will clench around me ! I’m panting now.

"Please Dean" she whines, one of her hand going behind her to find balance on my knee, her beautiful body arching back.

I give her what she needs, another finger, pumping slowly at first, then going a little stronger, and my thumb on her clit, gently circling. I look at her with my mouth open in awe, a devouring pleasure making me high.

"Fuck" I pant.

I should try to focus, make that coil inside me calm, make my heart slow. I don't want to be aroused like a teen, or I won't last at all... But I can't, and my free hand comes on my crotch to touch myself through my boxers a little, desperate for some friction.

"Dean ! Dean..." she cried out, now joining the movement of my fingers with her whole body. "I need..."

"Come for me" I order. "Show me how much you want me Baby, clench those fingers."

And just like that, she does.

Her whole body shakes and her thighs crush me, her walls trying to milk my finger for what they can't give her.

"DEAN DEAN DEAN !"

My cock twitches so hard it's painful, I bend on her chest to not see her face longer, and try to hold back as hard as I can.

"Baby... fuck..." I whine, my whole stomach contracting and my cock pulsating.

But when she grabs my head to hold it against her and start rolling her hips hard to prolong her powerful orgasm, I can't hold back...

In a very loud frustrated grunt I come in my pants, feeling my cum drip along my twitching cock.

Reader's Pov

My bliss makes me high, but my senses are at their full power, so I can feel what’s happening. I can feel Dean squirm beneath me and shake, I can feel his hand unable to move and hear his gasps.

He’s coming.

My walls clench even more at the thought and he whimpers against my breasts. So I hold him, I just hold him.

When I finally can have the control of my body again, I look down at him and he withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Y/n…” he whispers. “Fuck I…”

“Did you came ?” I ask with the largest smile I ever had on my face.

“I… yeah… I’m…”

He seems embarrassed.

“Dean, that’s the sexiest thing I have ever experienced” I assure him, bending to kiss his lips. “No one ever wanted me that bad.”

“I still want you” he states, his hands stroking my back and going down on my ass. “I… I think you’re all I want actually.”

My eyes get wet. In my head : every single moment in my life that made me fall in love with Dean, every day, every moment I craved for a touch, for his smell, every time he laughed and cried… Everything.

“Then you have me Dean, you can have me forever if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, I do” he says, taking off his shirt.

With a large smile I push him back on the bed, letting him drag both of us higher on it. I look down at him, and a tear falls on his chest. His hand comes up to wipe my cheek, we don’t need to talk for a moment.

My hands go down his sides, enjoying his firm chest and the soft line of his stomach, my thumbs massaging it a little on their way up, feeling the strong muscles underneath and the silky-smooth skin.

I bend to kiss his collarbones, and his tattoo, palms still roaming everywhere like I always dreamed of, like I will always dream of.

“This tattoo” I say, drawing its contour with my finger. “It’s so you, it has a story, and it protects you. I love it.”

“And I love you” he states without a hesitation, his chin almost on his neck to see me.

A tiny emotional sob escapes my lips, making him frown a little and wrap his strong arms around me.

“Hey baby…” he whispers. “Y/n…”

My hand goes down to push his underwear down, and my panties to the side. He searches my eyes while I do, and licks his lips in a moan when I grab his cock to guide it at my entrance.

“I love you” I say, slowly sinking down on him. “I love you, I love you…”

FEEDBACK IS WHAT MAKES ME WRITE

Forever Tags : @parinarain @animegirlgeeky @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @fangirlxwritesx67 @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @nihilismworld

Text divider by the amazing @talesmaniac89

688 notes · View notes

deans-haunted-baby · 4 years ago

Text

Dadstiel Shoulder Touch Analysis

I want to take some time to discuss something about this incredible father/son dynamic that I don’t think gets enough recognition. And that is their connection. A connection layered in so many different attributes yet primarily based on physical touch. Apologies this is going to be long. Despite my saltiness towards Supernatural as I feel the show squandered them during its run, I really love the amount of attention to detail that was put into Castiel and Jack’s relationship. It kind of has a Terminator inspired vibe going on which I can’t deny enjoying. The bodyguard and the future savior of mankind. And this bond was in development all the way back in season 12; long before Jack was born.

During 12x19 it’s through his mother Kelly, that the son of Lucifer forges an emotional attachment with the trench-coated angel whom he imprints on to be his surrogate dad. From the moment Castiel puts his hand on her belly, and feels Jack, they instantly fall in love with each other. At first touch. Trusting each other completely without the slightest bit of doubt as they sense the other’s good aura. It’s a devotion unlike anything Cas has ever experienced in his millions of years. Even more than what he’s felt for Sam and Dean. And it happens before he and Jack even get to see each other. Their bond becomes intensely essential that it boosts Castiel’s grace, allowing him to protect Kelly and her son from Dagon as well as cause a rip in time and space.

After Jack is born and in the care of the Winchesters, scared, lost and confused yet curious as an infant in an adolescent body; the child wanders aimlessly searching for Castiel. All he wants in that moment is to be with Castiel because that is who he recognizes as his father. Missing him and needing to feel that same warmth, protection and compassion he felt from inside his mother’s womb. However, following the tragic circumstances that led to the angel’s unexpected death at the hands of Jack’s biological dad in 12x23, these two are forcibly separated in the beginning of season 13. Until Jack instinctively resurrects Castiel out of the Empty through his own will and desire alone at the very end of 13x03. Proving that no matter how far away they are, the tether between them can’t be broken.

These two don’t even need an introduction from Sam and Dean when 13x06 finally reunites them for the first time. Jack immediately knows who Castiel is going off on his mother’s memories. And their reunion comes so naturally. There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation or apprehensiveness emanating from the angel’s presence. Jack just walks right up to Cas, puts his arms around him and tells him how much he missed him. Its as if they’d never been apart. And afterwards they spend nearly the entire episode practically inseparable. Getting to know each other as father and son. And that goes without saying, while Jack did bond with the Winchesters in person first, there is no comparison to the Nephilim boy’s emotional attachment towards the angel.

This special relationship is very significant to both of them. Around each other they’re at their most happiest. Castiel is constantly at Jack’s side; and ALMOST ALWAYS tenderly touching him, namely his shoulders or protectively holding him by the arm and the child wholly reciprocates this. In Castiel’s gentle physical touch Jack is given a sense of security, solace, reassurance and comfort. Same as he’d had as an unborn baby. Not only is this the angel’s way of demonstrating his affection, empathy and devotion towards his son but this is actually how he non-verbally tells Jack that he loves him. Its purely unconditional. And this gesture isn’t one-sided as I will acknowledge later. Jack desires Cas’s tangible nearness as much as his dad does which is why they’re so magnetically pulled together in all of their scenes on the show.

Even when they’re at conflict with each other or arguing, Castiel never fails to let Jack know that he’s always safe and loved. That he isn’t afraid of him. His son could be in pain, angry, or vengeful in the moment and Castiel’s affection for that child will never waver. He’ll endlessly put his own life at risk in order to reach Jack; who is far more powerful than he is via his archangel half. Like the convivence store scene in 13x23 when Jack attacks a civilian believing he’d killed his friend and Cas does his best to subdue him. Whether Jack wants it or not at the time, he needs his dad’s emotional support; and the angel can’t stand the thought of his son harmed or hurting. He’s easily saddened whenever Jack refuses his touch as shown in 13x21 when he was very upset over Sam’s temporary death and rips away Cas’s hand as he’s trying to console him.

Supernatural really emphasizes the powerful connection Castiel and Jack share using physical communication in nearly every one of their episodes. Its these wonderful details they do onscreen that illustrates the depth of love these characters have for each other. Unfortunately though, they didn’t get to interact much during season 13. Yet the small portions in their four episodes together is exceptionally substantial. While we’re on the subject, the shoulder touches are definitely a Dadstiel thing. It’s their signature sign of affection and theirs’s only. Don’t believe me, let me give you an example of a specific scene in 14x19 between Jack and Sam; which takes place in the aftermath of Jack’s accidental killing of the Winchesters’ mother Mary.

Dean and Sam conspire to trick and lock away the soulless infant Nephilim in a mystical coffin as punishment with the intention of finding a solution that will end his life. Sam is the reluctant main player in this scheme of using his influence over the child in order to gain his trust and sway him into his fate. Just before Jack’s about to be led to the room and put into the box, scared and uncertain, Sam then puts his hand on his shoulder telling him they need to keep him safe while giving him an awkward grin. And look at Jack’s expression as this happens. It reads shattered. He immediately knows something’s wrong. Sam is touching him just like Castiel…except this is nothing like Castiel. His dad’s shoulder touches are always so tender and loving.

Jack can literally feel Cas’s devotion for him in every tangibility. But here he doesn’t feel that from Sam at all. Its cold, fearful and empty just like he is on the inside. Rendering him even more nervous. Speaking of season 14 the father/son content we get between Castiel and Jack is even better that year as its all about their relationship growing and strengthening into something far deeper than it was in the previous seasons 12 and 13. It’s the year their bond is put through the ultimate test. Where Jack is made human after Lucifer steals his grace and Cas dominantly steps into his role as a father.

Providing Jack with a certain guidance, boundaries, and stability in episodes 14x01, 14x02, 14x03, 14x09 and 14x10 unlike what he’d received from Sam and Dean. Castiel takes on all the difficult tasks of parenting ranging from scolding to teaching his son about death, responsibility, self-restraint, patience and the tribulations of growing up. He doesn’t raise his voice ever when he speaks to Jack. And is completely there 100% for his son from the beginning…and the end of his life. Although Castiel is an angel he is very much a pivotal link to Jack’s humanity and vice versa as well as a link to his celestial side. While he greatly admires and looks up to the Winchesters, its through Cas’s influence that the infant Nephilim aspires to be a good person.

Jack never wants to become the monster his biological father was; desperate to break out of that mold once in for all. And he isn’t alone. Castiel is right there with Jack every step of the way. Ready to challenge and encourage his son whenever he does something decent or makes a mistake. He doesn’t hesitate to tell his son when he’s proud of him. And sometimes he’s there to coddle Jack during times of crisis as displayed in the 14x09 showdown with AU!Michael where the angel takes a second to heal Jack’s minor facial wounds. I just love that tiny focal point of Cas in the background, as the Winchesters are talking, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder before using his powers on him. As if to keep him calm; like a parent reassuring their nervous kid that it won’t hurt.

Throughout the first part of season 14 we’re blessed with so much affectionate Dadstiel moments like the after-the-battle angst talk in 14x01 where Castiel reminds a very frustrated Jack “you’ve got me” as he declares he has nothing. Or 14x08 after Jack’s death and they’re bittersweetly reunited in Heaven with Kelly; all smiles, touching shoulders and hugging each other as if they can’t bear to be separated. Followed with that heartfelt moment of Castiel tenderly touching his son’s cheeks, sadly looking at him with so much adoration, as he sends his soul back to his body. Then there was their unforgettable father/son pep talk in regards to the vulnerability of Jack’s soul; Castiel just gives his son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he leaves the room. Again, this is how these two say “I love you”.

And I couldn’t very go in depth of this analysis without mentioning 14x20′s Jack death scene 2.0; Castiel helplessly touches his son, who’s screaming on the ground in agony, trying desperately to ease his suffering. Yah this was particularly very hard for me to watch witnessing Castiel going out of his mind, completely unable to save Jack from enduring such a painful end to his life. Once was already cruel enough on me. And of course 15x01 continued that vicious trend of Castiel harrowingly protecting his son’s corpse, carrying him over the shoulder in a fireman’s hold as he runs through the cemetery, then gently lays him down on the floor in a mausoleum. I get emotional watching Cas cradling Jack’s head as he positions him comfortably; letting his touch linger unable to let go. He doesn’t even care what happens to him in this moment as long as his son’s body is safe. Very strong symbolism of a parent who will never abandon their child long after they’re gone.

On a side note I want to quickly call attention to how much I revere the Dadstiel healing parallels in 14x09 and 14x14 plus BONUS: Jack almost-killing Castiel in 15x13 so he can talk to Ruby in the Empty. These just add some nice little textures in their dynamic which compliments their ongoing tradition of showing devotion through physical communication. And both the healing scenes and the temporary death scene are composited very similarly. Focused on Castiel and Jack’s hands in the process of relieving the other’s pain/life.

Touch is exhibited as being a very crucial element for both of these characters when it comes to their iron-clad relationship. That palpable part of Castiel and Jack’s connection keeps them closely-knit. Its their familial instinct and how they express their feelings for each other. If they aren’t kneading shoulders, the angel duo is often standing beside each other or firmly linked at the arms. And this usually happens during moments of extreme stress, joy, sorrow, pain or fear. Jack relies so much on Castiel’s parental presence. He respects his authority, disobeying only when his actions feel necessary, and will go to the angel whenever he wants to talk or vent. Jack is also comfortable with Castiel enough to confide his darkest secrets no matter how awful they are. That’s the foundation of the everlasting trust built between them. They’re just tethered to one another in such a way that nothing will divide them.

I’ll begin with the hospital scene from 14x07 where Castiel is being the rock to his ailing son who can barely stand on his feet. There’s so much anxiety radiating off him in this moment as he struggles with watching Jack suffer; holding him so close. Staring at his face you can tell this horrible situation is ripping him apart. Actually, the entire episode is basically just Castiel silently enduring the pain of Jack dying.

The second set of screencaps underneath are of 14x10; Jack is agitated by AU!Michael’s antagonistic claims that his family’s love for him isn’t unconditional. Reading into one of his greatest fears. But then Castiel instantly calls out to his son, grabs the crook of his arm; gently reassuring him none of this is true. And Jack doesn’t resist this as he knows his dad is sincere. He never has to question Cas’s feelings towards him as his physical touch alone is self-explanatory. But when it comes to the Winchesters, that’s a whole other conversation.

Next, we have one of my favorite emotionally-charged Dadstiel moments in 14x14; where in a fit of panic because the anti venom wasn’t working Jack, going against Castiel’s warnings not to risk burning off his soul, is compelled to use his powers to save his dad. And I love this because this time its Jack who’s the one initiating all the physical contact. Just as the recovered angel demands what he’s done, his son responds with a soft “you’re okay” and the “I love you dad” shoulder touch as well as firmly gripping his arm.

Finally stepping away from season 14 I’m going to briefly go over the caps from season 15. Let’s begin with 15x11 the Dadstiel reunion scene at the church which is so beautifully poignant. Castiel is so overjoyed to see Jack alive that he takes a second to look over his equally stunned son, touching his shoulders before they embrace. This is by far one of Cas and Jack’s top father/son moments on the show and it’s done so effectively. If you want a more in-depth description for what I love about this scene, you can read my post about it here.

After that is the 15x13 Dadstiel moment where Castiel, suspicious of Jo’s story about the Occultum, had asked Jack to temporarily kill him in order to go see Ruby in the Empty. Two things I really like about this; 1. even though Jack still doesn’t have a soul, is very concerned about and protective over Castiel because of that deal. And 2. again Jack is initiating all the touching in this scene; look at the way he grasps his dad’s arm as he returns him to life. It’s almost as if he’s hoping the touch of his hand will not only speed up the process but also reach his dad so his essence isn’t lost forever.

And then we have 15x17. We didn’t get much Dadstiel interaction in this episode but the amount of times Castiel protectively holds onto his agonized child, who’d been turned into a cosmic bomb about to go off any minute, having no regard for the danger he’s in is so visually gut-wrenching. There’s a specific moment in the scene where, as Sam and Dean are arguing, Castiel is sitting on the floor just clutching Jack tight. Trying to non-verbally soothe him.

And this is followed up in the first half of 15x18, aka THEIR VERY LAST EPISODE TOGETHER ever on Supernatural. Here is where everything about their connection comes full circle with Castiel refusing to abandon Jack no matter the situation. Demonstrating the extent of his devotion by willing to die for his child just as he’d sacrificed his happiness to save Jack from the Empty. Because that is his son and nothing not even death itself can ever destroy what they have. Much as the young Nephilim boy begs for his dad to stay away, yells that he doesn’t want to hurt him; Castiel kneeling to Jack’s eye-level doesn’t leave his side. Then when Jack disappears to the Empty and reappears back at the bunker reformed, Castiel’s hand remains firmly glued to his son’s shoulder. He doesn’t want Jack to feel afraid or traumatized any further.

This was such an intense part of the episode I mean just look at how stressed out these two were. The anguish in their expressions. Simply put, Cas and Jack cannot bare to live without the other. They’re each other’s home; two sides of the same soul. Castiel loves all of Jack; the good, the bad and the ugly. This is an EPIC father and son’s love that knows no bounds. So powerful and pure that it transcended the loss of Jack’s soul, Lucifer’s DNA, the Empty, Mary Winchester’s death and everything else in between. Oh, and guess what, their “I love you” Dadstiel shoulder touches aren’t limited to just their hands. Its in every single one of their hugs too.

Notice how their chins or faces just comfortably rest on top of each other’s shoulders. And except for 14x20 their eyes are shut, as if to savor every single second of that closeness. Jack just buries himself against Castiel like he’s never felt safer with anyone else in the whole universe. And both of them hold each other; giving and receiving the other’s love with their whole self. Like I can’t even begin to describe how much Castiel and Jack’s softness towards each other just melts my heart. Their relationship, despite the horror tongue-in-cheek atmosphere of SPN, is surprisingly sweet, healthy and endearing. They are the epitome of true unconditional love and a great contrast to the Winchester brothers. In my humble opinion Castiel and Jack’s father/son dynamic is the best thing to happen to this show in a long while.

For the closing segment of this analysis I want to do something special before I discuss the paralleled-angst driven Dadstiel shoulder touches in 15x15 and 15x18. First off, I can’t shout enough praise from the rooftops about the insanely remarkable chemistry between Alexander Calvert and Misha Collins. Just brilliant casting. They embody these characters heart and soul and make this relationship feel so real, genuine and grounded. The fact that they look so similar in appearance really sells the idea that these two could actually be father and son. Forget the scripts, the quiet subtly these two bring to Castiel and Jack is the true magic of their relationship.

Let me start with the Dadstiel centric 15x15 aka THE BEST EPISODE of Supernatural season 15. This amazing masterpiece of art is everything I could’ve asked for and more; giving me so much precious father/son content that I will cherish forever. I really enjoyed seeing Castiel and Jack in those matching ties, bonding with each other over a case while they save the day. It’s a shame this show never let these two have more solo adventures together because they’re truly a joy to watch onscreen. Fingers crossed for that spinoff.

But I digress, the car scene in question happens at the very end of the episode in which Jack reveals the alarming truth that he has to die in order to stop Chuck and Amara. And Castiel, visibly and outspokenly distraught by this news, has to be assuaged with that infamous shoulder touch by his son; who’s in just as much pain. This is without a doubt one of most emotional scenes between these two characters out of the last three seasons of the show and quite possibly one of Misha and Alex’s strongest acting moments after the Dadstiel church reunion in 15x11. They killed it with the feels here. I like the attention to detail, the shadows and the colors in the shot, the melancholic score as well as how it seamlessly switches from Jack’s perspective to Castiel’s. Seriously watching this scene always makes me cry its so devastating.

Lastly, we have the Dadstiel car scene in 15x18; and Castiel and Jack’s LAST ONE-ON-ONE together. I’m kind of disappointed by this if I’m being honest. Its not that its bad its just not that definitively great for a final scene between these characters. Especially after four seasons of development. Where are the stakes? Why don’t Jack and Castiel seem as concerned about their situation? Cute as that smile was it doesn’t fit the tone. And where’s that punch in the gut knowing something is going to separate these two any second? It’s too light and doesn’t come off like a goodbye or a cathartic bookend which is what I wanted to take away from the episode considering its title “Despair”.

I mean if they were going to follow up on that heartbreaking car scene at the end of “Gimme Shelter”, the 15x18 scene wasn’t the way to do it. So, the weight of this final interaction feels almost non-existent. Maybe if it had taken place at night and the dialogue solely focused on them not the Winchesters it would’ve faired better. But since this isn’t a rant post I’ll cut to the chase by saying that the only saving grace this moment has happens in the last part. Jack’s in tears telling his dad how scared he is that he can’t use his powers to protect anyone. Coming off very childlike and vulnerable; needing that parental protection that Castiel was always known for. And sure enough, he gives Jack that final “I love you” shoulder touch which I swear had me choked a little.

Rethinking about it now that the show is over actually makes their final moment together really sad as incomplete as it is. I not only look back on how much these characters were drastically underutilized but how much the Dadstiel storyline could’ve been executed better with all the development that it was given. Well there you have it my full Dadstiel shoulder-touch analysis. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

159 notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 4 years ago

Text

About a Girl

Paring: Dean x reader

Prompt: Reader turns into a small kid after a witch puts a spell on her and the boys need to figure out a way to fix it before she grows down into nothing. While Sammy investigates, Dean has to take care of her.

Warnings: none

“Did you hear what she said?” You asked Sam as you walked out of the witch house “before Dean shot her?”

Sam thought about it for a second “I don’t think she said anything...”

“No... no... I’m sure she did! She said something... juvelin? Juven... juven-something... didn’t you hear Dean?” You asked turning towards him, he was rather distraught packing things up on the trunk of the impala.

“Maybe? But I don’t think is anything to worry about (Y/N).”

You were still unconvinced, but the brothers thought it was nothing, and they had more experience with witches than you did so you decided to ignore your uneasiness. “Maybe I’m just tired... We’re going home now, right?”

Dean nodded. You got on the back seat of the impala and the boys got in the front. You hung out with them for a while, sitting on the middle seat and jamming to Dean’s tunes. But sooner than later Dean played one of his soft rock music and even if you loved most of them, they knocked you out since you were a child, since your dad would listen to it while road tripping.

Dean smiled when he saw you soundly asleep as he reached out for a drink from the cooler. Sammy was awake still and the three of you arrived home around 7 pm. Once the impala was on the garage and the boys were about to leave the car Sam called you to wake “Hey (Y/N), we’re at the bunker!”

There was no answer, so he turned to wake you up. His eyes opened wildly when he saw what laid on the back seat. He quickly motioned Dean to turn too. Both of the boys stared for a bit, for where their friend was supposed to lay a little girl was instead.

Dean was about to speak up when the little girl started to open her eyes. She slowly sat and looked at the two boys confused. “Are you dad’s friends? Did he go on a hunting trip again?” She asked as she yawned.

“Yes?” Answered Sam.

The little girl sighed “nice to meet you then, I’m (Y/N). Who are you?”

Dean gave Sam a look. Was this little girl really you turned back in time? It certainly looked like so. “ I am Dean Winchester.”

She giggled “No, you’re not. I know Dean Winchester, he’s about this height,” she said placing her hand at eye height “he’s a year older but I’m taller. Daddy says it’s because I eat all my vegetables and he’s a picky eater, only likes pie.”

Sam snorted from the side and Dean gave him a look before turning back to you.

“All through,” you said standing up and getting close to him “you do look a little like my Dean,” you said after grabbing the sides of his face with your now small hands “especially the eyes,” you stared at his eyes, those definitely looked like Dean’s eyes, you would know, even at five years of age you knew those eyes were special, you quickly separated from him and stood back on the leather chair of the car “are you related to John?”

“Yes,” replied Sam, “he’s uh... our cousin.”

“So you’re Sam and Dean’s uncles. Nice to meet you,” she smiled.

Dean had already gotten out of the car and opened the door for you to come out. “What is your name?” You asked Sam before he came out.

“I’m... I’m Henry Winchester,” he replied. Dean gave him a look and he just shrugged, if he said he was Sam little (Y/N) would think they were messing with her.

“All right (Y/N) time to go in,”

“Where are we?” She asked as she followed the boys through the big concrete walls.

“This is the men of letters bunker. Where we live,”

“I wish I lived in a place like this,” you spoke as you looked in awe all around “maybe one day,” you said hopefully. A small knowing smile grew on Dean as he heard those words, they had invited you in when they bumped into you on a hunt a few years back, you’d been with them ever since, and you always called the bunker your home.

“So... Not-my-Dean-Winchester, what are we going to do?” You wondered “some of dad’s friends just leave me in the corner and tell me to behave, some others are really nice, Bobby once took me to the movies... You guys seem really nice, but also very tired. Did you just finish a hunt? You have that look in your eyes dad has when he finishes a hunt.

Yes, that’s how he remembered you, a very talkative little girl who used to play with him and Sam when you were together. And very clever too, you seemed to always know what the adults were about.

“We are actually getting home from a hunt,” Sam answered. You looked at him expectantly “A witch.”

“Oooo, dad’s never faced a witch before”, she said. “Are they very dangerous?”

“Some are, this one was just... weird, she put a spell on our friend,”

“I’m sorry, are they all right?” You asked with concern.

“She seems to be,” Sam replied “but we need to contact a friend that is a witch to help us. Dean, keep an eye on her while I contact Rowena,”

“But I don’t know how to take care of children,”

“Do what you’d wanted to have when someone took care of us,” Sam shrugged and turned on the corner opposite to where you and Dean did.

“Woah,” you exclaimed excitedly “this place is amazing! Look that table,” you said as you ran to stand on one of the chairs around the war room table “this whole bunker is amazing, you are very lucky to live here,” you told Dean as you admired the whole place. “Are you guys rich?”

“No... we ugh... sort of inherited it.”

“So... will you tell me to shut up and sit in the corner?” You wondered, it wasn’t uncommon and you were used to it “because I can, but I’d be happier if you allowed me to take a book at least, you have plenty of them. I promise I wouldn’t damage it. Just look at the pretty pictures. But if being quite in the corner is the order I’ll take it, sir.”

“Of course not!” He scoffed “I was going to ask you if you wanted to watch a movie,” he asked, “we would make popcorns and stuff.”

“I’d like that a lot,” you nodded excitedly.

Jack entered the room just a few seconds before that and tried to figure out what was happening “who is that?” He questioned.

“Jack, this is (Y/N),” he furrowed his brows, that was (Y/N), she looked just like (Y/N) but at least 25 years younger. “(Y/N), this is Jack... my son...”

“You don’t look old enough to have a son that old,” you said turning your head back and forth between the two of them. Dean had a little smirk drawn on his face, finally someone recognized he wasn’t old,

“I’m actually four,” stated Jack.

You frowned and turned to Dean.

“It’s a long story, magic.” he explained.

“WelI guess it makes sense,” you said as you shrugged “we will still watch a movie right?”

Dean nodded, by then you had already jumped over the table and walked towards Jack, you handed him your small hand “nice to meet you Jack.”

“How did this happen?” He asked Dean as he looked at you.

“Well my dad asked them to take care of me,” you replied.

“A witch,” Dean signed from behind.

“Oh...” acknowledged Jack “maybe I could try?”

“No, we don’t want Chuck noticing anything,”

“Who is Chuck?”

“God,” replied Jack matter of factly.

“What?” You asked confused.

“My granddad, not God, that would ridiculous,” replied Jack.

“It would,” you giggled.

“So, what do you want to watch? I’m sure they must have princess movies or something on Netflix,”

“Netflix?” You shrugged “I was thinking maybe we could watch “The adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad”

Dean licked his lip on that particular way of his “is that the headless horseman movie?”

You nodded energetically “I will hunt him down one day!”

“But the movie terrified you,”

“Before I knew I could take him down like dad does all the time with other monsters, he’s like a superhero.”

Dean smiled, he remembered, way back when, his dad was his superhero too.

“Jack, find the movie, I’ll go make some popcorns with (Y/N),” as the two of you walked in the kitchen Sam was sitting there FaceTiming Rowena.

“Hi, Henry!” You smiled “why are you talking to your computer?”

“That’s her? Wee little thing was adorable,” said the person from the computer.

“Is the computer talking to me?” You asked confused.

“It’s ugh, kinda like a phone call, but with video,” explained Dean.

“Like in Star Trek?” You asked.

“Yeah exactly,” replied Sam.

“Cool, didn’t know that excited. Maybe it’s because you guys are rich.”

Rowena chuckled from the other side of the screen. “I’m sorry darling, but I can’t do anything unless I know the spell they used.”

“On your friend?” You asked turning to Dean.

He nodded and started making the popcorns on the stovetop.

“Hey Henry,” you said to Sam “Do you want to come watch headless horseman with us?”

“He doesn’t like that movie,” Dean replied.

“Do you wanna change it?” You asked Sam, who you thought was called Henry.

“No, don’t worry (Y/N), I have a lot of research to do.”

You shrugged and walked beside Dean. You could barely see the stovetop but it was fun to hear the little kernels pop.

As the popcorns were ready the two of you walked towards the tv room, or Dean Cave as he liked to call it. Jack was already sitting on the sofa and the movie was just a click from starting.

“Your TV looks so weird,” you said trying to find the rest of it, but it seemed to only be a screen “looks like a cinema...”

“Yeah, it works like that,” answered Dean, how would he explain that this wasn’t the same world you remembered. Everything changed so much in a couple of decades it would be hard to explain a little kid such things.

As the darkest scene of the movie approached, right when the horseman followed Ichabot’s through the dark forest you were playing full attention. Taking in everything that happened in the movie and analyzing all the possible outcomes, even as a small 5-year-old your mind was blazing with “what ifs” and “whatnots”. You needed to know, “how could you save Ichabot?”.

“What would you do?” You asked turning to Dean.

“What?” He questioned, right after losing his focus on the film.

“How would you get out of it if you were Ichabot?”

“I’d look for the body, salt and burn.”

“But no one knows where it is, besides the head is somewhere else...”

“I’d do my homework prior, and I’d have Sam, Cas and (Y/N) to cover my back,”

“Me?” You questioned.

“No, a different (Y/N), she’s uh... much older than you,”

“And she would help you hunt down the headless horseman?”

“She’d probably figure out a solution for the problem before we realized we were in trouble.”

“She sounds like a cool person,” you smiled “I’d like to be like her when I grow older, there aren’t many girl hunters out there.”

“Oh, there will be, lot’s of them. You’d be among the best.”

“Well you don’t even know me but thank you Not-My-Dean-Winchester”

As Jack found another movie and clicked play, the three of you continued watching the TV attentively. But halfway through the film, your interest in it had faded and you started paying attention to everything around you. The strange-looking TV, the bright little boxes that Dean checked whenever they would beep, he’d said that it was his phone but it didn’t look like any phone you’d seen. As you kept taking in all the new things you started drifting asleep on the couch.

As the movie finished and Dean and Jack noticed, Dean motion the younger boy to be silent and he lift you up to bring you to your room. Your face was hiding on the crook of his neck and your small arms hugging his neck. Halfway asleep you mumbled, “you know, it’s funny Not-My-DeanWinchester, that you smell exactly like my Dean Winchester”.

He frowned, yes, you had always been close, even as children, but noticing the way someone smelled, you, your adult version had never mentioned anything similar. “I quite like that smell,” was the last thing you said before drifting so deep into sleep that not even when he laid you on the bed a little too abruptly did you notice.

He went back to his room. And did some research on his laptop before sleeping himself. Neither him, not Sam had found the spell yet.

The next morning, as the boys went to check out on you their hearts almost fell to the floor. Instead of a very talkative little 5-year-old, they had a way smaller kid in your room. A version of you that most have been 2 or 3.

“Where’s mom and dad?” You asked. They didn’t know how to respond. You’d grown down at least 2 years in a night, if this kept going you would be unborn in less than a week.

“Hey!” Sam approached you “they went to work, we’ll take care of you today, my name is Sam,” he said pointing at himself, when you were three your mom was still alive and you hadn’t met the Winchesters “that’s Dean,” he pointed at his bother.

You took a deep breath, even kids know when they're in danger, and you felt safe enough to trust these two unknown men “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll uh... let’s make some breakfast all right?” Smiled Dean and he motioned for you follow him. Once you got to the kitchen he sat you on the counter to be able to keep an eye on you while Sam called Rowena again.

“Samuel, you need to stop ringing me whenever you...” she stopped complying as he saw the smaller girl sitting on the counter dangling her feet “oh, don’t tell me that’s (Y/N).”

Sammy nodded.

“Yes I am, thas my name,” you said with a smile, “I’m twhree yeahrs old” you showed your hand, with 4 fingers up.

Dean got close and lowered one of the “three,” he said softly.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“We need to find a cure,”

As the day passed by, the boys got more and more desperate, Rowena had travelled to the bunker to see you in person and try to understand the spell.

“I think I have it!” Said Sam after hours sitting in the library, “(Y/N) said something about juvenile, I found a spell, juvenillis juvinale a puero usque ad senem,” it’s something like form old to young.

“Oh I know this spell,” smiled Rowena “I just need a few things and we’ll be able to fix (Y/N).

“Fix me, why?” You asked Dean as you munched on some cereal.

“A different (Y/N),” he replied absentmindedly.

After the three of them found all the stuff they would need Rowena started with her reversion spell. “a puero usque ad senem, a puero usque ad senem, redde id leve et quod suus 'non est verum” she said, and then threw some dust to a vase, a little explosion made a noise and green smoke came out from it but you were still toddler.

“It didn’t work!” Exclaimed Dean angrily.

“No, it takes time for her to grow up again, she should be back to normal in the morning,” stated Rowena “pleasure to see you boys, but I’ve got business to run, demons to keep in line, all that hell business, so goodbye”.

As Rowena left the bunker after packing her stuff the boys sat back in the library still worried. You were quietly sitting on the main table playing with Dean’s phone. Who would have thought angry birds would keep your three-year-old version entertained for hours.

As Dean took you to bed, you started to be wary of your surroundings, you wanted to see your mom and dad. “I don’t like it here,” you said as he sat you in the bed, “it’s scary I want to see my momma,” you cried shyly.

“I know,” replied Dean in the most understating way “I get it, but it’s all right, you’ll see her soon. The sooner you fall asleep the better.”

As he stood up and walked towards the light switch you stopped him “NO!”

“Lights on?”

“I don’t want to be alone, I never sleep alone, always with mom and dad.”

“But I’d be right next door,” he tried to reason but you only denied with your head.

“Won’t sleep, I will stay awake all night if I’m alone.” Dean drew a deep breath but sat beside you on the bed. “Can you tell me a story?”

“A story?” He questioned.

“Yes! A story before bed,”

“I don’t know any...” he said sadly.

“A song?”

“Can’t sing.”

“Plweeeease?”

“Hey Jude, don't be afraid” he started to mumble the so-known lyrics, “You were made to go out and get her, The minute you let her under your skin, Then you begin to make it better”.

Before either of you realized you were both half asleep. As you opened your eyes in the morning, you felt your bed being occupied by someone. And that someone was cuddling you. You hadn’t been cuddled in years. So naturally, you opened your eyes and jumped backwards when you realized how close Dean’s face was to yours, you even distinguished his small freckles. The bed was small, so that jump led you to the floor. Hitting yourself in the head with the side table in the process.

“Auch,” you complained once on the floor rubbing your head where it had collided with your side table.

Dean’s head popped from the side of the bed, half-sleep at first, but when he saw you, your regular aged self a giant smile grew on his face “You’re back!” He said with content “She’s back!” He screamed so the boys could hear.

“Back? From where?” You asked as you got up from the floor and crawled back inside the bed, yes Dean was there. But it was so cold you didn’t even care, you just wanted your covers on top of you.

“You turned 5, and then 3.”

“Five what?” You asked frowning.

“Years old.”

“I was a kid?”

“Oh, and a very adorable one. You made us watch frozen,”

“Bullshit! I would never! Didn’t even exist when I was a kid.”

He chuckled “Well I guess you do know yourself, we watched the headless horseman animated movie when you were 5, when you were three you basically played angry birds on my phone all day,”

“And why are you in my bed?” you asked after your brain started to process everything Dean was telling you.

“Well, your three-year-old version didn’t want to be alone, threatened to stay awake all night if I didn’t.”

If I’d know that was all it took I would have done it ages ago, you thought to yourself. “Well, then, that sounds like a fever dream, heck maybe I’m still dreaming,” you sad as you dragged Dean from his sitting position to lay back down, “whichever it is, you are now my personal heater”.

“I mean, I knew I was hot but—”

“—Shut up Winchester! I’m trying to sleep,” you mumbled as you cuddled into him. Yes, you were so sure you were dreaming because you only cuddled Dean Winchester in your dreams.

“Hey (Y/N)?” He questioned as he looked at the ceiling and drew small circles on your back.

“Mhm?”

“Why did 5 years old you knew that I smelled like, and I quote, ‘her Dean Winchester’?”

“I’d know it was you no matter my age Dean. I could have been 50 and still recognized you. Besides, you’ve always smelled so nice...” you replied half asleep.

A small smiled appeared on Dean’s face. You thought he smelled nice, and you were cuddling him, even if you were probably still being affected by the spell, he would cherish this moment for as long as it lasted.

Permanent Dean taglist: @akshi8278 @hobby27

Find more Dean fluff here

Feedback is always apreciated ✨

#imagine #one shot #oneshot #x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #dean one shot #dean x reader #fanfic #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #Dean

175 notes · View notes

spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 3 years ago

Note

Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

7 notes · View notes

swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years ago

Text

You Hate Halloween- Sam Winchester Holiday

A/N: Hello friends! Well, the holidays are drawing nearer once again and although this year has been anything but normal, I don’t see why we still can’t imagine better circumstances!

I’m going to start a holiday masterlist, as we get closer to each holiday. Requests for this series is open and will have a separate masterlist, with stories featuring Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack, as well as several other fandoms! Please send in any requests and I will be writing my own holiday themed stories, too!

Side note: I love this new photo of Jared that was released as he begins filming Walker! The hoodie inspired me to write this fic, so please, enjoy!

Summary: Sam surprises the reader with a pumpkin-themed date.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff!

Word Count: 2,497

Main Masterlist| Holiday Masterlist

Holidays for the Winchester brothers were just your average days, usually with a hunt or two and a just simple nod to whichever holiday happened to come up. To Sam and Dean, ever since they were children, their work came first, nothing more important than that. But everything changed the year you showed up. When the holidays began to draw closer, the boys couldn’t help take notice of how excited you got. To you, they were important days of celebration and a time to reflect on the year that just finished.

It was nearing the end of October and despite protesting from both brothers, you couldn’t help but spread out a few decorations around the Bunker. Jack had taken quite a curiosity to everything about the holidays from your obsessive discussion of celebration. It took a lot of persuasion on both yours and Jack’s part, but you convinced Dean to allow you to decorate. Pulling out box after box of lights, pumpkins, friendly ghosts, spiderwebs, and the occasional witches’ hat and black cat, you and Jack both got to work, with the added side grumble from Dean and the extra help from Cas. Once everything was set up and you took the time to enjoy your work as you head back to your room, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened with Sam. It was odd, he wasn’t around for any part of the decorating, nor was he around to join in on the grumbling.

“Hey, Dean, where is Sam? He hasn’t been around today?” You ask the eldest Winchester, who was grabbing a few beers from the fridge and handing one to you.

“Oh, Sammy? Um, he’s fine, I think. I’m not sure though, he said he had some things to work on; probably just researching like he always does,” said Dean as he shrugged and left the room.

Something wasn’t adding up to you here, Sam doesn’t just disappear without telling you first. You two were those kinds of friends; always told each other everything. You even made sure to tell each other where you would be so you could check up on the other if things went bad. All it took was one hunt gone bad and it was Sam’s idea to stay in touch with you all the time, for your safety.

You wandered around the Bunker, looking to find any clues as to where the youngest Winchester maybe, that is until you found your answer.

“Y/N, there you are, I’ve been looking for you,” Sam says, coming into your room after you decided to just leave him be and give up your search.

“Me? I’ve been looking for you! Where have you been?” You ask, ecstatic and worried in your voice.

“Oh, yeah, about that. I have a surprise for you,” he said, walking over to you in long strides, coming in front of you quickly.

“You have a surprise, for me?” You asked, looking at the much taller man before you.

“Yeah, come with me,” he said, taking your hand as he led you out to Baby. He opened your door, one of the many things he did that you adored before he joined you at the wheel. There was low music playing from the stereo as you felt him reach over and grab your hand, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns and leaving goosebumps on your skin. It was small moments like these, that made your heart race. Hand holding or an arm wrapped around you, even how he looked at you so lovingly, was all it took to make you feel as though you were his entire world. As your mind wandered on, Sam had to bring you back to reality, for you had arrived at the destination he had brought you. It was out in the middle of nowhere, nothing but flat land and rolling hills off in the distance. Tall pine trees lined just under the hills and there was what looked to be a farm, by the several cows that were grazing the land.

“Where are we, Sam?” You ask, looking to him who just kept a small smile on his face.

“You’ll see,” he says and guides you across a near-abandoned highway.

You two walked along the highway, following the grass and a wooden fence that was put up to aid in keeping the cows away from traffic. The walk was a bit longer than you cared for, but soon, more life drew in your line of vision, meaning there were other people around you. Drawing closer, you noticed that Sam had taken you to a pumpkin patch. A sign that read Thompson’s Pumpkin Patch was arched across a dirt path, lined with plenty of pumpkins and corn stalks. Dozens of families with children were running about, enjoying all the festivities on the property. Face painting, pumpkin picking, hayrides, bobbing for apples, small fair rides, live music, and plenty of food. Standing in line for tickets into the patch, you looked to Sam.

“Why are we here? You hate Halloween,” You comment.

“I know but you don’t so I thought to make this year special for you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I know how much the holidays mean to you, so I wanted to plan something,” He admitted, sheepishly looking down at his feet.

That alone made your heart flutter in your chest. Never had anyone done so much for you as Sam had done for you today. He normally hated Halloween, especially the scary parts of it, considering he faced those monsters regularly, but when you came to live with him and Dean, he began seeing things differently. You showed him a happier, lighter side of everything and he loved you for it.

“I can’t believe you planned all this for me. Thank you, Sam,” you say, leaning over into his side to hug him, his hand gripping your arm affectionately.

“Anything for you, y/n,” he smiled down at you, just enough for one dimple to pop out on his cheek.

You drew closer to the ticket booth, Sam paying for you both, as your excitement grew stronger.

“So, what first?” Sam asked you, and you knew where you wanted to start.

“Let’s get a pumpkin!” You exclaim, taking Sam’s hand and rushing off to the pumpkin growing in the ground. Sam chuckled as you beamed, looking through the vines of the squashes below you, picking up different ones and examining them.

“What about this one?” You say, pointing to what seemed to be the perfect pumpkin. It wasn’t perfectly round, nor was the stem on the top perfectly straight. But it was beautifully orange and big enough for a great big face to carve into later on.

“I like it,” says Sam, as he goes to pick it up, making sure to separate the vine from the stem.

“I’ll go pay for it and put it in the car, while you go get us some hot drinks,” he says, placing a small kiss on your cheek.

Again, that small act of affection meant a lot to you, knowing that that was Sam’s way of showing he truly cared. He wasn’t one for big romantic gestures yet he made sure everyone knew you were taken. As you watch him leave, you smiled to yourself at how lucky you were to have him. Zig zagging through kids running about, you found a stand that was selling hot drinks.

“Hi, what can I get you?” A middle-aged woman asked with a smile on her face.

“Hi, I’ll take a hot apple cider and a pumpkin spice coffee, lots of cream and sugar.

“Sure, thing sweetie. That’ll be seven dollars,” she said, waiting for your payment as she called your order out to the staff behind her.

You stood off to the side, waiting for your drinks before something surprised you. Jumping and letting out a small squeal, you noticed it was only Sam, who had wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Geez Sam, don’t scare me like that!” You scold him as he just laughs at your reaction. He turns you back around, rocking you in his arms as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry baby, but you looked cold standing there so I figured I would just, wrap you up and your reaction was, adorable,” he says in your ear.

“Ugh, you’re lucky I adore you,” you say, annoyance still evident in your voice, but only slightly.

“I am very lucky to have you,” he says just as your order was ready.

“Is that man your boyfriend?” The same lady who took your order asked.

Your cheeks burned bright red at the title of boyfriend but you smiled anyway. “Yes, he is.”

“Well he seems to be crazy about you; hold on to that one,” the drinks were placed in your hands as the woman winked at you before you bid her a farewell.

Handing Sam his cider, he appreciated the hot, bitter liquid as he placed the cup to his lips. You watched as he drank, silently just observing him. Sam was nothing short of attractive and he looked more so like it than ever, you thought. He was dressed in dark washed jeans and what you guessed was a plaid shirt underneath his hoodie. His long fingers stretched around the cup in both hands, as he mimicked a child who had to hold their cup with both hands. For the first time in probably ever, you noticed that his hair was a bit shorter than the normal length of near his shoulders, and he appeared he hadn’t shaved in a while; a full-on beard now warming his face.

“Like what you see, darlin’?” Sam commented, drawing you out of your daydream. His voice lower and with more of a Southern drawl than you were used to hearing.

A blush reddened your cheeks again, as you kept your eyes away from the prodding Winchester.

“Come on, let’s go bob for apples,” Sam suggested, offering up his hand to you once more.

As the day began to wind down, the night air began to grow increasingly cold. Throughout the day, you somehow convinced Sam to do everything with you. From getting his face painted with a little animated pumpkin on his cheek, that you had chosen, to trying all varieties of food that he normally wouldn’t have eaten. He hid from you in the maze, surprising you yet again when you drew too close to his hiding place, and he rode all the rides you had wanted to. There was one final thing you wanted to do before your day had ended.

“Sam, let’s do that,” you say, pointing to a tractor that had an opened trailer in the back, lined with two rows of hays for guests to sit on and fairy light stringed around the trailer and tractor.

He nodded and followed you to the trailer bed, helping you climb up and finding a hay bale to sit on. You two sat next to one another before Sam noted you shivering.

“Are you cold, babe?” He asked the obvious.

“No, no, I-I’m g-good,” you lie in between shivers.

“No, you’re not, you’re freezing. Here,” he says, taking his hoodie off and exposing a small little part of his tummy in the process. Pushing that thought out of your head, you gladly accept his hoodie and place it over your head. Instantly, you are embraced with warmth and the smell of Sam; beer, and whichever cologne he chose for the day. You hummed contently as Sam offered his arm for you to cuddle in.

“But won't you be cold, now?” You asked Sam.

He chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his plaid shirt, just like you thought he was wearing, and rolled it up, showing the layers that were underneath.

“I wore layers, knowing it was going to get rather cold tonight. I also brought this,” Sam said, reaching into the backpack you didn’t realize he had, and bringing out a blanket.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” You ask, admiring how much work Sam really put into your day.

“Like I said, only the best for my girl,” he says, as the tractor ride began to pull happy families around the patch. Sam’s hand found yours under the blanket, keeping you close to him. As you looked around at the lit-up patch, a beautiful look on your face, as the lights reflected off your wonderment on your face. When your gaze fell onto Sam, you saw how he was looking at you and your heart began to race as he slowly leaned closer to you. His eyes darted between yours and your lips, waiting to see if you would pull away. As you moved closer to him, he finally closed the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a sweet kiss. It was the first kiss you shared, and it was sweeter than any pie Dean would have at home. His lips moved with yours and his hands held your cheeks, keeping you from breaking away too soon. It felt like one of those chick-flick moment kisses Dean always scoffed at, but to you and Sam, they meant something to you. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” he admits, kissing your lips again quickly.

“I kind of have an idea,” you admit, smiling to Sam, who brought you back to his side.

When the hayride came back to where it started, you and Sam walked back to the Impala, along with all your goodies collected from the day. It was the perfect holiday date you always envisioned having with a boyfriend; Sam must’ve heard you talking about it. Back at the Bunker, Dean noticed you and Sam walking closer to one another, hands intertwined, and he knew you two had finally gotten together. Months of back and forth and denying of feelings drove anyone around you and Sam crazy, that was until Dean pushed Sam into taking you on a date. It was all his idea for Sam to take you on a pumpkin patch date. You made sure you’d thank him for that later, but it was time for you and Sam to spend some special time together. It was late and because you didn’t want to be away from him, Sam decided to sleep with you. Not sex, but actual sleep. Changing into your pajamas, you met Sam in your room, and you both crawled in bed, his arms immediately embracing you.

“Happy Halloween, y/n,” Sam said, as he kissed your head.

“Happy Halloween, Sam,” you snuggled into him.

“I love you,” he said before he drifted off to sleep, a cliff hanger of sorts left floating around your head. You guessed you would have to wait to tell him you loved him too.

Tag list: @fandom-princess-forevermore @tloveswriting @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @thinkinghardhardlythinking @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @angeredcrow @spnjediavenger @deansmyapplepie @akshi8278 @thwiso @marvelfansworld @grace15ella

40 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

Text

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67 , and @cracksinthewalls for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says.

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee.

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

“Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?”

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.”

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers.

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.”

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy.

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile.

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long.

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

57 notes · View notes

sophielovesbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

All or nothing, chapter two.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy and cursing.

Author note: Alright, here we are, hot out of the oven! Sorry if it took long, I got stuck on a scene but I finally broke the writer’s block and was able to finish this chapter, we will get to see a bit more of SPN on this chapter.

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what do you think, dm me if you want to be tagged and remember requests are open.

Chapter one

Masterlist

Chapter two

“Come on ladies! They are not called suicide running drills for nothing!” Your coach screams, you are beyond exhausted, your legs feel like they will give in, in any second now, you are covered in sweat from head to toe and your lungs feel like they are on fire. With the National competition getting closer every day your coach gets more demanding and the training sessions become more intense.

“So.” You manage to get out. “I don’t know if calling him is too straight forward.”

“Well.” Ingrid answers with her chest heaving. “It’s not like you have cared about that before.”

“Winchester! Fritz! If you are able to speak then you are not doing it right!”

Ingrid smiles at you and then you both get back to running, an hour; that feels like an eternity later, you are under the shower letting the water wash away your exhaustion, you still have two classes left and you need to mentally prepare yourself for them.

When you are changing into a pink dress Ingrid returns to the topic.

“So what are you going to do?” She asks while brushing her hair. “Are you gonna call the hot FBI agent?”

“I think I will.” You tie your hair up and close your locker. “There’s something really special about him, I just can’t put my finger in what.”

“Aww little Y/N has a crush.”

“Shut it Ingrid, at least I’m doing something about mine.” You say teasingly.

“Hey I’m your base, you don’t wanna bother me.” You both look at each other with serious looks in your face and then burst into laughter. “No but seriously, tell me how it goes.”

“Will do, bye babes.” You kiss her cheek and then leave the locker room.

During class you are barely able to pay attention, when your psychodynamic teacher is talking about the five stages of psychosexual development and the fixations in the oral stage your mind is traveling far away, focused on soft brunet locks and shy smiles.

After school you go back to your apartment, you order chinese for dinner and when the food comes and you are so distracted you are almost sure you gave the delivery guy a 50 dollar bill and told him to keep the change, you eat absentmindedly and then head to your bathroom toying with your phone, after taking a bath you are on your bed, dressed with clean pajamas and your hair wrapped up with a towel, then you finally gather enough courage to make the call.

The phone rings three times before he answers.

“Hello?” Your heart flutters at the sound of his voice.

“Doctor Reid?”

“Who is this?” He asks, you can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“It’s Y/N Winchester.” You answer calmly .”You gave me your card at the FBI lecture at Louisville.”

“Right, how- how may I help you?” He replies.

“I have a lot of questions, and you told me to call if I had them.” You take a deep breath and then say with a wide smile on your face. “But I thought it would be unfair to just ask without giving something in return, so what do you say about me buying you coffee tomorrow? If you’re still in town.”

Silence.

You mentally slap yourself for being too straightforward, what made you think that he wants to go out with you? He most likely has a girlfriend and here you are throwing yourself to him? God, you are so stupid.

“I-I yeah, that would be…” You listen to him taking a deep breath and then he continues. “That would be nice.”

“Great! We should go to Quills, they make this mean peach- lavender lattes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Does four o’clock work for you?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey pretty boy, who are you talking to?” Says a voice on the back, then the call ends.

You are smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, you have a date; well, meeting with doctor Reid, and you can barely hold your emotion. What are you gonna wear? What are you gonna say? Maybe this was a rash idea.

The ring of your phone snaps your mind out of it, when you pick up you see your brother’s face and on the back you hear the sound of vomiting.

“I’m guessing Jo hasn’t passed the throwing up all the time fase.”

“At this point I am pretty sure she kind of hates me.” Says your Adam.

“I don’t kind of hate you Adam, I hate you, hate you.” You hear Jo say, then the sound of vomiting returns.

Jo’s pregnancy had caught everyone off guard, she and Adam were always fighting or calling each other names, but then at the New Year’s Eve party Ellen threw on the Roadhouse they both had too much to drink and the next thing you knew was that you were going to have another nephew or niece in nine months, there was a lot of crying and at some point Ellen threatened to cut your brother’s balls off, now she was just happy with the idea of having a grandchild.

After the initial shock you were happy as well, this wasn’t your first nephew/niece though, Sam and Jessica had two beautiful daughters you adored, Dean had Ben; who was only a couple years younger than you, which was weird; and with Castiel, Dean had applied to be a foster parent, they now had a little boy; Leo, and were hoping to get another child.

You had such a beautiful family and were so grateful for it.

“How are you baby sis?” Adam asks, ignoring Jo’s comment.

“I’m good, very tired, our coach is killing us, and I have a duckton of homework, but in general things are going great, what about you, how are things going on Kansas?”

“Things are good, the workshop is getting a lot of cars, Sam, Jess and the girls visit us every now and then, and Dean and Cas are all about Leo.”

“That’s gonna be you in a couple months you know? Have you thought of any names?”

“Jo likes William or Genevieve, I like Magnolia or Jebediah, Jo doesn’t like them so we have reached an impasse.” You see Jo exiting the bathroom and standing next to your brother.

“Those are old people’s names, tell him Y/N.” Jo says. “Tell him they are horrible names and we are not naming my child like an old person.”

“Our child” He corrects, “And they are good names Joanna.”

“I hate to not be on your side bro, but Jo is right, they are horrible.” You say.

“Thank you Y/N at least one Winchester is using her brain.” Adam rolls his eyes and you laugh.

“They are good names!” Adam insists.

“No they are not.” You and Jo say at the same time, she was your best friend and somehow you were always in synchrony.

“Now if you can’t reach an agreement Y/N is always a good option, it has character, it’s pretty, and let's be honest, the world could use another Y/N Winchester.”

“We don’t need another traitor.” Adam answers with false hurt.

“Ugh, stop being such a drama queen Adam, you know what? Your baby wants an Oreo McFlurry.”

“Five minutes ago you were throwing up and now you want a McFlurry?”

“Yes, so better get on the road because they are going to close, don't do this for me Adam, do it for your baby.”

“So now it’s my baby?” They both start bickering and you swear they already act like a married couple, eventually Jo wins the discussion, because being honest there is no better argument than “I am carrying your baby” so Adam says his goodbyes and leaves grudgingly. You and Jo stay talking for hours, it’s almost 3 am when you hang up, and you fall asleep right after.

When you wake up you feel well rested and you feel like you slept for so long, the sun comes bright through the window and your whole body feels relaxed, which is weird because you went to sleep really late last night, which gets you thinking that you never heard your alarm.

Wait.

You take your phone and press the side button, but the screen doesn’t turn on.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You didn’t charge your phone, so the battery is dead which means that you are probably very late, you look up at the watch that’s on the wall, which indicates that it is already 12:15 in the morning, you are definitely very late.

You jump out of the bed and run to the bathroom, no time for showering, you brush your teeth and get dressed with a pair of jeans, plain white t-shirt and sneakers, you tie your hair on a high ponytail, take your bag and run to the kitchen, you grab a banana and a bottle of water and run out of your house.

You race on the road and make it to school on record time, at this time of the day it is barely impossible to find a parking space that is empty, when you manage to park it’s almost one, you mentally curse, get out of the car and run to the classroom, this promises to be a hell of a day.

*****

Spencer has never liked this kind of conferences, they bring him back to his college years, which are not something he likes to think about, he didn’t have the standar university experience, most of the time he was made fun of, being the target of stupid pranks or being just ignored by his classmates, so yeah, college wasn’t something he remembered fondly.

He was on edge until yesterday, when he saw you on the lecture; he had already seen you on the football field being thrown into the air and then landing perfectly with a magazine worthy smile, of course he thought you were pretty, because you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever landed eyes on, but you were also most likely the type of girl that only cared about vain things and would have never noticed him if you had been one of his classmates; he was proved wrong during the lecture.

You weren’t only pretty, you were also smart, probably the smartest girl in that classroom, you were informed and you clearly cared about the topic, and when the lecture ended you went to him, when all the girls went with Morgan or Rossi, you decided to go with him; he was in such a rush he even had the bravery to give you his card.

And then the impossible happened, you called him, and not only that, you asked him out and he hasn’t felt this nervous in ages.

“Reid, Reid.” Morgan’s voice brings him back to the room, he and Rossi are looking at him with worry. “Everything alright pretty boy? You have been acting weirder than usual since yesterday.”

“I am fine.” He answers almost automatically.

“Are you sure?” Rossi asks with an eyebrow raised. “We are worried about you kid.”

“Yeah.” He says. “Colleges just bring me to the edge.”

“Well, don’t worry about it pretty boy, we are just going to be here three more days and we are back to Quantico.”

“I know.”

*****

The whole day you feel like you are running, you are late for class which gets you a reprimand from your teacher, which gets you late to your next class, which ends up getting you late to cheerleading practice. Your coach is so mad she has you running suicides and practicing toe touches until your legs feel like jello.

“Point your toes Winchester! And smile, you have to sell it!” She screams at you, everytime you jump you feel your muscles pull and your empty stomach hurls, you are almost sure that if you keep jumping you might throw up.

When your coach finally lets you go it’s already 4:20, you mentally do the math, if you go to the locker rooms and shower you will be in the coffee shop at almost five o’clock, and agent Reid is probably already waiting for you, so you just grab your bag and run to your car mentally cursing yourself for not charging your phone.

****

Spencer manages to escape Morgan and Rossi, avoiding their questions and he makes it to the coffee shop you indicated by 3:45, minutes go by tortuously, he sees people coming in and out from the coffee with cups on their hands, he sees people laughing and students dragging their feet, the exhaustion of exams and projects reflecting clearly on them, he gets a lot of looks and he starts to grow desperate, he calls you over and over but the calls go straight to voicemail.

By 4:30 he decides you stood him up, this was most likely a prank, how did he not notice? He was a grown ass man, an FBI agent, he was a profiler and still he fell for it. He feels terrible, how could he believe such a beautiful woman would ask him out and actually show up? He takes his bag and gets up from the chair, when he is leaving he sees a car parking and a y/h/c haired girl wearing a Cardinals hoodie and grey yoga pants getting down and running to the coffee shop.

It was you, you didn’t stand him up, you were actually there, he can barely hold his emotion.

“Doctor Reid.” You say, your forehead is covered in sweat and your chest is going up and down rapidly. “I am so, so, so, sorry, did I make you wait too long? I’m sorry, my phone died, and my alarm never went off, and I’ve been late everywhere, and my practice lasted too long, and i didn’t have your card so I couldn’t call you from another phone, and I came here right out of my training, so I must smell like a monster and I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t wait for long.” He lies, and you smile at him, and he can swear it is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. “Should we order?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You lead the way and stop at the bar. “Hey Lindsey.”

The redhead barista smiles at you and then you look at him and he notices how your y/e/c sparkle with the white lights of the coffee shop.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“You said something about peach lattes?”

“Peach-lavender lattes, it sounds weird but they are great.” You reply, and by this point he’s sure he would believe if you said the moon was made of tofu.

“I’ll have one.”

“Great, two large peach-lavender lattes and a bagel please, can I also borrow your charger?” Lindsay marks your order on the cash register and tells you the total, when Spencer takes out his wallet you stop him. “No, I said I was buying.”

“No, I insist.”

“Doctor Reid, put your wallet down, I was terribly late and I said I was buying, you can pay the next time.” The fact that you imply that there might be a next time makes his heart flutter.

“Alright.” He agrees, when you get your orders you sit on the table he was waiting on and there’s a moment of awkward silence he is not sure how to break. “So, so you said you had questions?”

“Yes, I do.” You take a sip from your coffee and then look at him, he is expecting questions about the FBI, but that’s not where you go. “You have three PhDs, three BAs and you are only thirty-four, how is that even possible? Are you like a genius?”

“I, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.” You stare at him with your eyes wide open and a smile on your lips. “...yes, I’m a genius.”

“That’s… wow.” The conversation flows after that, he talks about some of the most interesting cases he has had, you intervene every now and then making questions or comments that always seem to go to the correct point, and he feels like he can speak freely with you.

“Well, the vast majority of unsubs with a similar MO aren’t driven by the killing, they are merely fascinated by the body parts, it’s like they psychologically exist in a realm where fantasy meets delusion, it’s basically like the blueprint to create the perfect serial killer… I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, it’s fascinating, please go on.” You are one of the only persons he has ever met that reacts that way, most of the time he gets interrupted, he is about to start again when your phone rings, you take a look at the screen and then say. “Sorry I have to take this, it will be just a sec.”

He smiles and nods and you slide to answer.

“What is the point of having an expensive phone if you never answer? Do you know how worried I was?”

“Hi Dean.” You reply, internally laughing at the overprotectiveness of your brother.

“Don’t “hi Dean” me, where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your texts?”

“I’m in a coffee shop, and my phone died last night and I couldn’t charge it until now.”

“Who are you with?”

“I’m with a… friend.”

“Friend? Are you out with a boy? Who is he? Let me talk to him.”

“Stop being so jealous Dean.”

“So you are with a boy.”

“I’m sorry I have to go, love you, bye.” You say and you don’t even give him time to protest before you hang up. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” He must have guessed you wouldn’t be single, he feels jealousy invading him, and he fiddled with his empty cup. “Was that your boyfriend?”

“Gross, no.” There’s a wave of relief when you answer that, and he probably shouldn’t feel it, he’s leaving in a few days, it’s not like there’s the possibility of a relationship. “It was my brother, he can get all Mama Bear when he is worried.”

“Oh, is he your only brother?”

“No, I have three, Dean, Sam and Adam, I am the youngest, like by far, Dean is 19 years older, Sam is 15 years older and Adam beats me by 8 years.”

“That’s a big difference.”

“Yeah, Dean and Sam are my half-brothers, from dad’s first marriage, their mother died when they were very young and dad took it very hard and started to move them around the country, that’s how he met my mom, he went to Minnesota they had a one night stand and she got pregnant, but she didn’t tell him about Adam until he was like six, then he went back to Windom, they fell in love, dad moved them to Kansas, he married my mom and then they had me, hence the age gap.” You explain. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No, I’m an only child, I grew up with Doctor Who and Star Trek as my companions.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Yeah, it’s, it’s good.”

“I know, I’m not gonna act like I didn’t mourn for a week when Ten left Rose on the beach.”

“You like it?”

“I may look like your stereotype cheerleader, but I’m a huge geek, Dean and his best friend Charlie made sure of that.”

The conversation flows as freely as water after that, for some reason you find it easy to talk to him, you tell him so many things you haven’t even told Jo, you talk about everything, favorite holidays; yours is Christmas, his is Halloween; tv shows, characters. You delite with his rambling and pay attention to every word he says, when you finally realize it, the sky has turned dark and you are the last people in the coffee shop.

“I think we should probably let them close.”

“Yeah, we should.” You both take your bags and stand up. “Hey, when are you leaving town?”

“On friday.”

“Let me make you dinner, I make a killer lasagna.” You look at him expecting an answer but he can barely say anything, he just had an amazing evening with a gorgeous girl who is now inviting him to her house, he should probably pinch himself to make sure he is not dreaming. “Spencer?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“It’s a date then.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x winchester!reader #reid x reader #reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #winchester x reader #winchester!sister #winchester!reader #all or nothing

239 notes · View notes

shyvioletcat · 5 years ago

Note

YES. literal angst queen I can wait for pt 3!

I feel like I have to apologise. The angst isn’t high in this one. But I’m saving it up for something special *wink wink*. But this got so long that there will be another part.

Stupid regrets - Part 1 // Part 2

EDIT: MASTERLIST

~~~~~

Rowan hadn’t expected to see her. Aelin had been living in Orynth again for a while, but he hadn’t run into her since Dylan had chased after that puppy and Rowan had found him on the street. For whatever reasons she didn’t come out much with the rest of their friends. So when she walked into the bar, arm in arm with Fenrys, Rowan had been surprised to say the least.

Just about everyone had come out tonight. The only ones missing were Vaughan, who was out town, and Elide, who couldn’t stand the smell of the place now that she was pregnant. They’d found a table in the back that they were all scattered around, a few of them off playing pool.

Fenrys and Aelin laughed at something then he let go of her as he went to the bar to order some drinks. She kept on towards their table, spotting them and smiling, Connall giving her a wave, but she took a seat across from Rowan and Lorcan.

“How’s Elide?” She asked Lorcan, tucking her chair in. “Has the tea been working?”

Lorcan shook his head. “The lollies did though.”

“Oh that’s good,” she said. The oddest thing Rowan had discovered a few months ago was the friendship that had formed between Lorcan and Aelin. Before, well everything, they could barely stand to be in the same room, but now they actually seemed to like each other.

“How are you Rowan?” She asked.

Rowan was glad Aelin was the one to go first, the one to start the conversation. He’d been the one to make a mess of their relationship, she should be the one to set the boundaries of it now. If Aelin had never wanted to speak to him again, he’d walk out of the bar right now to make sure she got what she wanted. He’d been so wrong all those years ago and he was yet to entirely forgive himself for it.

“I’m good, just working and not much else,” Rowan said.

“Lorcan an ass of a boss?” Aelin asked, a bit of that old wicked glint in her eye.

Rowan mouth twisted into a small grin. “Sure is.”

Aelin laughed quietly just as Fenrys brought her her drink and she thanked him.

“What are we talking about?” Fenrys asked.

“What Lorcan is like as a boss,” Aelin said as she took a sip of her drink.

“Well, he’s and ass,” Fenrys said and Lorcan flicked a coaster at him.

That’s how they passed the time, drinking, sniping at each other and laughing. Things definitely weren’t back to what they had been, but it was nice. They were now crowded around the pool table, watching Lysandra kick Connall’s ass in pool. Lorcan had left a little while ago, eager to get home to Elide. It was odd to see Lorcan like that, in love and considerate of someone that wasn’t himself. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just took some getting used to after years of unfeeling broodiness.

Lysandra sunk another ball and high fived Aelin as she walked past from where she stood beside Rowan. He was about to ask her about how her parents were when she quickly pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Hello,” there was a pause and then Aelin groaned. “Are you serious? No, no. Its fine. I’ll be back in about 20 minutes. Bye, Mum.”

Aelin sighed.

“Everything alright?” Rowan asked.

“No, well yes. Not a huge disaster, but Dylan forgot his teddy and he’s staying over at my parents house and he can’t sleep without it and my dad managed to leave the spare keys at work. They’ve been trying get him down for a while but it’s not working. Guess my nights over.”

Aelin started her rounds of goodbyes and then ended up back at Rowan.

“Are you right to get home? Did your come with Fen?” He asked.

“I did, but he seems a bit preoccupied.” Rowan looked over to where he was chatting up a pretty brunette. “Besides, we walked from my place so it doesn’t really matter.”

Rowan knew it was fairly late and very dark, so it only took him about a moment before he said, “Let me walk you home.”

“Rowan, you don’t have to,” Aelin said but he fixed her with a look. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You were always an overprotective buzzard. Fine.”

Rowan ignored the snipe and then set out on his own round of goodbyes. He met Aelin back at the table as she was shrugging on her jacket. They didn’t say anything else as they left the bar and stepped out in the chilly night air.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asked, keeping pace beside her.

“I actually ended up on the same street and my parents. Which is good, for now at least. They adore Dylan so much and it’s good to have the help some days,” Aelin explained. “They’ve really been a help to him after…” Rowan watched as Aelin swallowed. “After everything.”

He could still read her well enough that he could see she didn’t want to talk about Sam, so Rowan changed the subject.

“Where are you working?” Rowan asked.

Aelin cleared her throat. “For my Dad’s company. Mainly admin stuff at the moment, might develop into something more if I stay on. Classic nepotism at work.”

Rowan laughed at that, and Aelin smiled.

For the rest of the walk they kept talk casual, nothing too deep. Rowan didn’t want to put his foot in it. But he could see that she was still very much the Aelin that he had knows those years ago, the Aelin that was his best friend, who was wickedly funny and kind. There was just a little less light about her, and Rowan completely understood why.

Aelin walked up the path to a very pretty little house on a street that he knew quite well with all the times he had been to the Galathynius household.

“I’ll head back,” Rowan said but Aelin turned around.

“No, come say hi to Mum and Dad. And I’m sure Dylan would like to see you, he likes to talk about the giant man who found him when he got lost.”

Aelin disappeared inside before Rowan could answer assuming he would do as she said. He stood outside, toeing at the path to, but it only took a few minutes for Aelin to come back out a brown teddy bear in her hands.

“Got the bugger,” she said as she passed him, heading for her parents house up the street.

Their house was very much the same, their large white door still bright and spotless. Aelin knocked, and it only took a minute until the door opened and small quick mass slammed into her legs. Then Dylan looked up at his mother, his eyes red rimmed.

“I brought him,” Aelin said offering her son the teddy. He took it from her and hugged it to his chest.

“I’m so sorry Aelin,” Evalin said as she appeared in the doorway. “If your father was not so damned forgetful, I do not even know why he took them to work in the first place,” she called back into the house. Rowan heard and a deep yeah, yeah from somewhere in the house. Then Evalin saw Rowan. “Well, hello Rowan. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“How are you Evalin?” Rowan said.

“Oh, I’m well.”

Aelin crouched down, smoothing back Dylan’s curls. “Did you say hello to Rowan, Dylan? He was very nice and offered to walk me back so I could get Sir Teddy for you.”

Dylan looked up at him and waved. Rowan smiled at him and waved back.

“Do you want to stay at Grandma and Papa’s or did you want to come home?” Aelin asked.

“I want to stay, we’re having pancakes for breakfast tomorrow morning,” Dylan said and then he lent in to whisper, “with ice-cream.”

The corner of Aelin’s eyes crinkled as she whispered back, “I don’t think you were supposed to tell me that. But I promise I won’t be mad about it. Goodnight, my little bean.”

Dylan threw his arms around Aelin’s shoulders. “‘Night Mum.” Then he took Evalin’s hand and practically dragged her inside.

“Goodnight, Aelin,” Evalin called back as the door shut.

Aelin stood there for a moment, just smiling, then she turned around. “Care to walk me home again?”

Rowan led the the way down the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Dylan gets a bit shy. He does really like you I think,” Aelin apologised. “I think he gets that from Sam.”

“It’s fine, he seems like a nice boy,” Rowan said.

“He’s the best,” Aelin said. They had got to Aelin’s front gate, standing there awkwardly. “Thanks for walking me back. Goodnight.”

Aelin walked away, all the way up to her door. Rowan just watched her as she unlocked the door.

“Aelin, I…” Rowan said and she turned to him.

She looked at him, really looked at him, like she could read everything about him like she always had a way of doing. Her face softened and her eyes were sad as she pushed the door open and said, “Would you like to come in?”

~~~~~

Tags:

@fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @average-girl-at-best // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @ugh-jesy // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books

156 notes · View notes

jay-and-dean · 5 years ago

Text

Become That Girl Part 1/2

Dean x reader

Summary : Y/n never was his type. She is the buddy type ; sexy and glamorous are just not her. It’s time to try to change that... To change everything about herself. And maybe, just maybe, this flirty smile will be for her next time...

Warning : Swearing. Suffering and mentions of unhealthy behaviors. Smut. Unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Kinda rough sex. ANGST.

Words : 7.7 k

Author note : This was supposed to be a one shot, but there will be a part 2. I will publish it this week (tuesday I hope).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

__________________________

Dean's hand brushes that girl's palm and those adorable wrinkles appear on his eyes for her, he gives her these sweet eyes I saw only in these circumstances; his head slightly bending on the side. His flirty smile.

"It's ridiculous" I grunt, taking a sip of my beer.

"Yeah" Sam chuckles.

But I struggle to swallow. The truth is I would give my life, my soul and everything else for Dean Winchester looking at me like this just once. For him to touch my hand that way. For whatever is to come with that girl. The idea of him sinking inside her is like a stab in my chest, but I'm used to that pain.

I know I will never taste his lips, because I'm not that girl, not even close.

I'm the kind of girl guys love because they can be themselves with her, I'm the buddy type. And along the way, I became Dean Winchester's friend. He gives me drinks and teases me all the time on my tastes in music, on my tastes in food, in men... If only he knew.

It was quick for me to fall in love with him. I have never been in love before, not for real ; so I didn't really know what was happening to me at first. I never was the kind of girl that forces to laugh at men's joke, that wear pink or try to look like society wants women to be. I never faked a smile, but Dean, he makes me giggle like an idiot, and everything he says actually interests me. I'm fascinated by him.

He's beautiful, but that's not even what I like the most about him. It's like I just could read him, his soul, the way he hides pain, the way his humor is way darker than people think, that incredible ability he has to be himself, that fake harshness and the size of his noble heart...

He bends to catch the girl's lips and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the whine of pain coming up my spine.

My stomach contracts at how empty I feel and I look down at my hands. That void I feel each time I come to the full conscience that I will never feel him on and inside me, it hurts way too much. It’s beyond craving, it’s like a part of me was missing.

"Are you okay ?" Sam asks, probably reading the sorrow on my face.

"Of course" I state. "I'm just tired, that hunt was a bitch."

I want to drink too much, drown my stupid brain in fucking alcohol. The puking and hangover are way better than being able to imagine him with her, his hands on her hair, his tongue around her nipples...

I get up and go to the bar, avoiding to get too close to Dean and her, I don't need to know her smell or voice, my brain would turn it into torture.

"Whiskey please, leave the bottle" I tell the bartender.

He doesn't look at me when he hands me the bottle, not even checking my age or my eyes. He is looking at Dean's conquest and that desire, almost envy, on his face catches my attention despite my will not to look at her.

Taking the bottle, I glance at that woman everyone seems to admire. Dean's back is toward me so I can see half her face, behind his silhouette. She's pretty. A wide smile on her face, bright eyes, sulky hair and makeup ; she doesn't have scars, or bruises like me and her only wrinkles are just highlighting her smile, like she had never worried or frown.

I pour whisky in my own glass and empty it, then do it again. I go back to my table to join Sam, my empty glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, it didn't even pay, but when the bartender will be back on Earth, maybe he'll ask me. Meanwhile, fuck him.

"I'm not holding your hair tonight Y/n" Sam sighs.

"Yeah... don't worry Sammy" I shrug.

***

"Oh... fuck…" I grunt opening my eyes. "Oh ! Fuck !" I gasp before I run to the toilets to empty my stomach in the bowl.

Sam pushes the door and rubs his eyes.

"Y/n ?"

"Shut up..." I whine, pushing my hair out of my sweaty face.

I flush the toilets and get up stumbling, I start undressing, knowing Sammy will just not watch, and he turns his back on me to pee. When I enter the shower, I grunt at the warm water.

"Coffee ?" he asks.

"Yes please, with aspirin in it... What is that ?" I look at my very sore hand and see it's all purple and blue. "Sammy why is my hand all bruised ?"

He chuckles and when he washes his hands the water of the shower suddenly becomes cold for a minute.

"A guy called you babydoll and touched your ass" I hear the smile in his voice. "You broke his face before I could move."

Shit... I bet if someone had done that to Dean's pretty girl, she would have needed a prince in shining armor. Me, I just break faces. I grunt and put my head on the tiles, I'm just not a lady, maybe that's why Dean doesn't want me, even for a quick fuck...

I'm in my jeans and bra when Sam comes back with coffee. He gives it to me and hands me aspirin. He slept in my motel room, that means Dean brought his girl in theirs. I frown and grunt, my eyes still barely open. Sam offers me an amused dimple smile.

"When you're around, it's like having another Dean" he mocks.

My heart breaks.

I know it was not meant to be mean and being anything like Dean can only be a good think but... Am I really so far from being a girly girl ?

I get up and take my clothes, my too long and worn out Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black rangers. I sigh. Yeah well maybe I don't dress like a princess too... Fuck !

The door opens and Dean enters the room with cups of coffee in his hands. Each time that man comes near, something happens, like the colors were brighter, like my blood was warmer… He turns to me and raises his eyebrows, probably seeing what a mess I am, my wet hair all messy, the cuts and bruises on my arms, face and hands.

"You look like shit" he says and a new kind of stab hits my gut. "What did you do last night ? Did you see someone ?"

"Haha ! She met a guy !" Sam mocks and I grunt.

"Really ?" Dean frowns like it was beyond surprising.

"She may have broken his jaw" Sam chuckles and Dean comes closer.

"Did you fight again ?" he sighs, taking my hand to check on it.

He still smells like this girl’s perfume and I'm nauseous. I take my fingers back and show him I can move them fine with an annoyed look. Then I take the coffee of his hand and thank him.

"Hey !" he calls me when I'm about to take my bag to leave.

So I turn around and put a light kiss on his cheek like I do every morning, making him smile like a child. I stare for a little too long at his proud face and walk pass him.

In the car I take my shoes off to put my feet on the backseat, Dean is mumbling the Metallica song, his beautiful strong fingers dancing on the rhythm against the wheel. And before I can look away, I have this vision of him sinking this amazing middle finger inside her core.

Shit... I'm nauseous again.

I guess in this world of blood and violence, coming deep inside a soft sweet angel-like princess must be a relief. I can’t enjoy one night stands anymore, but he can, good for him. It's not his fault if sex makes me feel dirty since I know him, like I was cheating...

Stupid.

I just wish it would happen to me once... Having him. I know how dumb this sounds because I'd probably be dead with grief once he turns to a better girl again, but I would give anything to spend a night with him. I have to stop dreaming, he doesn't even see me as a woman.

I frown and put my head back on the window.

"Hey Y/n ?" he says, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. "Now the hunt is over, we finally have a little time together. We could do our horror movies marathon ? I can't wait to see your face when we wa..."

"You're the one hiding against me Winchester" I state with my usual a mocking grin.

It's not even a lie and he rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam who's still listening to some conference in his headphone.

"I just can't wait to eat all those candies we hid in your room, without Sam lecturing us" he smiles with his teeth showing and my heart melts.

What if I tried...

What if I tried to be the kind of girls he likes ? I mean, I'm nothing special but with a little efforts I could at least become a girl in his eyes... Would he still be able to just stuff his mouth with sugar when he's so close to me in my bed, if he saw me as a real lady ?

I look down at myself and sigh. I will have to change absolutely everything... But maybe this could work.

***

It's only been a few hours since we got back, Dean went to take a shower and Sam went running, which doesn’t make fucking sense after a hunt so rough.

Taking a huge bite of that big double chocolate brownie, I stare at my laptop, watching stupid videos of makeover, style, makeup and how to do your hair ; and if I wasn't thinking of if Dean would like this thing or not... I would probably have died of boredom already.

I should try to work on my attitude too. Swear less, sit straighter, be less loud, spontaneous, stop saying when I need to pee, drink less and try those stupid sweet cocktails when I do, let men defend me. I don't get to skip wax day anymore, I have to look sexy or eventually childishly cute, but not at all like I do right now. Boy !Being a “girl” is no fun at all.

I look at the Pinterest and Instagram pictures of those pretty girls and put my brownie down watching my belly, a diet wouldn't hurt either.

A knock on my door, Dean enters with a cute smile, his hair still wet. I close my laptop and throw the brownie in the trash, sitting straighter already, I pull my stomach slightly in.

"I bought beer" he says and sits on my bed, opening one for me but I shake my head. "Still too hangover ?" he asks and I nod.

During the whole movie, I try to watch my attitude, not spreading my legs to put bowls of candies between them, not making fun of him when he jumps. And when he falls asleep beside me, I just stare at him thinking of how many things I would sacrifice for him. I dare touching his hair and leans to my touch, coming closer in his sleep. I want more.

I need more.

***

I barely slept tonight, half stressed, half exited by my project.

As usual, Dean left in the middle of the night, kissing my forehead to say goodnight. I get up, eat fruits and shit instead of cereals and go running, drinking water, more water than what I usually drink in a week. I read coffee makes teeth become yellow and gives shadows under the eyes, so I will stop it too.

When I take my car to go fucking shopping -I always hated shopping-, I try my best to smile, looking on the mirrors of the car. Sweet and open Y/n...

I manage to hold back my middle finger when a jerk takes the parking lot I wanted. I'm hungry but my body needs to learn to shut up. If I want Dean Winchester to consider kissing me, I have to be perfect. There is no compromise.

I try clothes and I feel like I'm wearing a costume, with those bruises and all, it's stupid anyway. So I decide to go one step at a time. I'll wear normal size shirts instead of oversized and a nice jacket first, I'm not ready for dresses or too colorful for now.

I buy lace panties and push up bras then decide to throw away my other underwear to make sure I wear them, because they're so uncomfortable I will be tempted to go back... I keep drinking water when I buy makeup and nail polish, trying my best to both pull my stomach in and ignore the heavy perfume smell and the employees trying to sell me way too many things. I need girly shampoo and all, because I usually just use Dean's.

Then I lock myself in my room for hours, fighting with my body, waxing with incredible care, putting sticky things on my hair to make them shiny, cream on my skin to make it soft, mascara to make my eyes bigger… I even pierce my own ears.

But the more I try, the more I feel ugly. I always tied my hair in buns-easier to fight, run and look like an FBI agent- but now it’s down, and I look at these models,it seems dull… Same for every inch of my body. Why do girls do that to themselves ! Or maybe I’m the one that is a problem, maybe I’m just disgusting and avoided to see it for years. No wonder why Dean never looked at me.

I stare at myself and sigh. Fuck. Even doing all that, there is about zero chance Dean would ever want me one day, even just for a night. It’s going to hurt way more than hunger and wax, but I have to go further, I have to pay attention when he’s with a woman…

***

“MOTHERFUCKING BITCH !” I yell throwing the stupid scale against the wall.

It’s been three months and I haven’t lost a pound. I’m hungry all the time, from morning to the next morning, it’s even waking me at night. I only eat salad and drink water… I mean, my hands are shaking for Christ sake !

Three months of trying so hard to act like a sweet fragile angel with a weakness for sin : cute and sexy. But I’m still swearing like a sailor when I don’t pay attention and I’m still fat. Hunts are becoming more difficult because I’m weak, and fun times with my friends are more rare, because they only do what I can’t : drink beers, eat burgers, make fun of horror movies, play whiskey poker… I used to love whiskey poker so much ; the night Dean invented it, we were beyond drunk but it was one of my best memories, he ended cutting my hair and it was bad, but I didn’t care at all.

“Are you okay ?” Sam says, opening the door but I close it brutally.

“Sam ! I’m a girl you know ! You and your brother can’t just enter the bathroom when I’m in it !” I yell through the door, hurt that they keep treating me as if I was the third Winchester brother, and worried they would see my ugly fat body...

“Sorry Y/n, I didn’t know you were naked” he states.

“Naked or not, Sam !”

“What’s the problem ?” I hear Dean ask his brother, and put my head on the door.

“She’s just grumpy again…” Sam sighs and I frown.

I do argue with them more often… I didn’t noticed that.

“Sweetheart ?” Dean calls though the door and tries to push it.

“Are you serious !” I cry out pushing the door. “Stop forgetting I’m a girl, you don’t get free access on the bathroom when I’m in it !”

“Okay” Dean just says and he leaves.

I never forbid them to enter, and I have great memories of watching Dean brushing his teeth while I dried my hair, of his intimacy only hidden by a white towel around his waist while I joined him in the hot steam his shower made to talk about anything.

My Dean and I used to be awesome… But in a buddy way. I feel tears fill my eyes but try to hold them back because I really don’t want to do my makeup again. I caught him staring at my cleavage yesterday, and he said lipstick suited me last week. I have to be strong, if Dean gives me that flirty eyes, I would be worth it.

But we don’t talk that much either and… I really miss him in every way, I miss my friend and I feel lost and lonely. The sadness these thoughts bring, mixed with the exhaustion of hunger, and the pain of that unrequited love finally makes me fully burst in tears. My hand on my mouth I muffle the sounds of my sobs, realizing I will never have him, and probably fucked up the only good thing I had : That pure and loving friendship with the Winchesters.

***

I take a bite of my salad and hold back a gag. Not that I don’t like salad, but eating only that is becoming really sickening. Dean looks at me and there is no kind expression on his face, that tender smile I used to see everyday faded along the weeks.

“Take a bite” he says, handing me his burger, cheese dripping on his fingers.

“What ? No…” I shrug. “I’m not super hungry.”

I’m not an idiot, at least not completely : I knew my best friends would notice a change in my behavior. I mean, Dean seeing a change is the all point, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying so hard. So lately I’ve been putting empty pizza boxes on the table from time to time. And my outfits were replaced slowly…

But they’re not idiots either.

“I just want to check something” he says.

I can’t, after all these efforts, if I bite in that thing, I will become even fatter than I am, I can’t afford that…

“I don’t want to, Dean.”

“I made it myself” he insists, practically putting the food on my lips and the smell is becoming too tempting.

“Dean ! No ! I’m sure it’s delicious because your homemade burgers are always a success but it’s a no !” I push him wiping the ketchup that fell on my shirt. “What is wrong with you…”

“What is wrong with me !” his harsh tone surprises me. “I’m super worried, that’s what is wrong ! Do you have eating disorder now or something ?”

“What ? No ! Of course not, you know me !”

“Yeah… Do I ?” he asks before getting up, leaving his plate barely touched in front of me.

“Dean ?” I call but too low, he can’t hear me…

***

I didn’t come out of my room. Not once, since Dean looked at me that way, a sad way, like I had betrayed him or something, just because of a burger…

Who am I kidding ? It’s not because of a burger, my best friend just doesn’t recognize me. I can’t be that girl, I’m just not enough. Curling in my bed, I take a deep shaky breath, I’m really tired of crying so I just stare at the wall, thinking about what Dean must think of me. He must be disappointed, and that’s the worst I can imagine. Dean, my Dean, thinking low of me, annoyed or hurt because of me.

A knock on the door. I lift my eyes to the red numbers in the dark : 10:18 pm. Usually, when one of the brothers knock on my door, they start talking to me through it and if I don’t yell that I’m naked, they just enter. Not this time. The knock is discreet and followed by a heavy silence.

Surprised by that unusual quiet, I get up, arranging the top I was wearing because it went up my stomach. I open the door and my pupils grow, I can almost feel it, seeing Dean’s beautiful eyes in the lights of the corridor.

“Y/n…” he says with his deep voice, his right hand on his pocket. “I’m sorry I was a drag earlier. You need space from us, I get it… Living with guys…” his tone is a little sad but very kind, I don’t know what to say. “Just, don’t change who you are, please. You can eat what you want and wear what you want sweetheart, okay ?”

“I do” I nod to close the subject and ease that worrying on his handsome face.

He bends and slowly crushes the plumb of his lips on my forehead like he always does when he’s worried about me, after hunts, before hunts… when I’m sick or tired or anything. I close my eyes, trying to enjoy this without ruining it with the pain of that stupid unrequited love.

“I just miss my friend” he says low. “I promise I won’t bother you more and knock and all, but could we spend a night together at the bar ? With Sammy ? Like we used too ? I miss that.”

The look on his face is like his brother’s puppy eyes and I feel both relieved and terrified. I miss him like crazy and just want to say yes and follow him running ; but if he leaves with a girl… It might kill me this time.

“Yeah… Okay” I sigh. If he gets with a woman, I’ll just try to observe her. “Can I just have a little time to get ready ?”

“Of course sweetheart” he nods, letting go of me. “Take your time.”

After a few minutes trying to recover from Dean being so adorable, I finally managed to go to the bathroom. Tonight I will really try to look like one of Dean’s conquest, so I stare at it : the only dress I own.

I bought it after I saw Dean glance at a girl in the street during the last hunt. It is the kind of dress I thought I'd never wear, I actually never even thought of wearing one in my life. The dress the girl wore was a little too sexy according to me, even slutty. Women should dress like they want to, but I wasn't ready for that super short red bustier dress, with boobs everywhere calling for attention.

Yet, I have to become that girl, that's the whole point. If Dean likes his women bundled up in skinny dresses, so be it.

I sight, looking at the girdle I have to wear to put that dress on, I empty my lungs and compress my stomach the more I can. Taking the dress, I hesitate, maybe this is too much.... But this is the prize to pay if I want any chance that Dean would look at me ; tonight I'm going to be that girl.

The dress is simple but very sexy. Black taut fabric hugging me tight, with a cleavage like a bra, and straight straps, useless because the dress is so tight it holds me. I look at myself in the mirror and sigh, I'm not enough.

I put makeup, just mascara and lipstick, and right now I have trouble thinking I don't look like a whore, but I try to remember those girls Dean likes wear more makeup and even sexier closes, so...

A knock.

"Y/n ?" Sam says. "If you don't get out of this bathroom, Dean will be drunk before we reach the bar.

Shit, the short dress is so tight that my panties are showing.

"Yeah, go to the car, I'm ready !" I state through the door, taking off my panties.

I have no underwear that would be good with this dress... It is short, but not too much, and it's tight, so no one will see anything when I sit. I look at myself in the mirror and decide I just won't wear panties. I take my black leather jacket and leave the bathroom trying to hide I'm shaking.

***

When I enter the garage, Sam and Dean are sitting on the edge of Baby, with Led Zeppelin playing. The girdle is hurting me but I stay straight, trying to look casual.

The two men's eyes widen and I have no idea how I am supposed to understand their look but I try not to think of it. I give them a shy smile, like I was begging them not to judge. I was waiting for a comment or anything, but they just stay totally silent.

In the car I don't know how to sit, I always put my feet on the seat but there is no way I can do that now, so I just stay there, held upright by this awful prison compressing my ribs and stomach.

Dean checks on me on the rear-view mirror, his face totally neutral, like he was hiding whatever he is thinking... A few months ago, I would have made fun of him, I would have asked him what was wrong with me, I would have told him to look at the road -I always did that when I caught him staring at me in the mirror-, but now, I just look down.

Being sexy is also feeling sexy, the woman on the video said. I'm not really the kind of woman that feels sexy, but I could try. The problem is, each time I try to focus on sexy things to make this work, I end up thinking of Dean, of when his beautiful hands land on me, of his smell and his shoulders, of his mouth... And in the end, I'm felling more horny than sexy. I guess not wearing panties is kind of sexy...

***

The bar is not too crowded but loud, the sound of pool balls shocking on each others, and the manly laughs of men drinking alcohol. Tugging at my dress, I look around to see if any girl could catch Dean's attention : maybe that girl at the bar, but she seems to be with a man. People are looking at me, I'm not used to it, I feel like my lack of underwear is written on my face.

When he passes behind me, Dean puts a hand on my back, sending a shiver all along my spine. He always does that, but I'm usually wearing real clothes.

"What do you want to drink sweetheart ?" he says and I hesitate.

Alcohol is caloric, I can't really afford to drink it. After a long hesitation, I decide a whiskey would make me forget all those eyes on me.

Taking the first sip of the amber liquid, I close my eyes. This taste reminds me of some good memories when Dean and I stayed in the kitchen to talk, slowly sipping and smiling at each other.

"Pool ?" Sam asks pointing the other side of the bar with his beer bottle.

"Yeah I don't know" Dean looks down, making me wonder... He always loved pool.

"Come on Dean !" I smile raising up, the evening is supposed to be about saving my friendship with him.

He frowns like something was hurting him, his beautiful mouth forming a pout, his dark green eyes searching my face. I can't read him. He doesn't look at me like he always did, but not like he looks at those girls either. My smile fades and the air becomes thick.

He gets up slowly and brushes past me when he walks to the pool.

"Okay, but you stay with me" he grunts.

I follow him and notice eyes are moving with me. I know what's happening : I must be embarrassing him, that’s why he acts weird. I swallow hard and watch him take cues, the muscles of his jaw are clenched.

"So Y/n... This dress..." Sam whispers close to my ear. "Is it just to make Dean mad or is there a guy you want to go home with ?"

My heart stops.

"Dean ?" I just say searching his eyes, but he laughs. "Why..."

I can't finish my sentence because Dean gets close to me to give me the cue he prepared. His handsome face still pretty stern, he offers me to start.

The air is still thick and Sam's words turn in my head, bouncing in every directions, banging in my head like a lost bat. What does that even mean ? Dean must be disappointed in me, maybe little a big brother wouldn't want to see his sister wear a slutty dress... Maybe what he meant was that, as Dean wanted a friendship night, dressing like I'm waiting to leave them for a one-night stand is annoying. I don’t know who I am anymore, or how I am supposed to behave.

"Y/n..." Dean calls me from the other side of the pool. "You never lose at this game, even against me... Are you okay ?"

"Yes I..."

Pretty girls don't win against the man they want, they make them feel strong and all those bullshit that polluted my brain. I'm distracted and I have no idea what to think again. Right now, I just dream of becoming the old me again, slap his ass when I win just to mock him, make him pout, drink like him, swear and get rid of that awful pain on my ribs.

"I just need another drink" I finally chose to answer. "Whiskey ?"

He nods in a frown and I leave toward the bar.

When I order a drink, this time, the bartender looks at me, and even if it's not the same place and the same man, I can't help but think it has something to do with how I look tonight.

"There sweetheart" he smiles and I shiver at the nickname I only heard from Dean's mouth. "Tell me... Those guys ?" he points his chin to Sam and Dean.

"What ?" I glower, completely forgetting the have-a-flirty-smile-all-the-fucking-time rule.

"You know… are you with one of them ?" he says with an actually kind corner smile.

"No" I state and his grin spread to his whole mouth.

He is cute, dimples on his soft face, dark caramel-colored skin, warm black eyes highlighted by thick black curled lashes. And the softness on his features finally make me give him back a smile.

"Good because I couldn't fight any of them" he chuckles with a hint of shyness.

I chortle lightly at how right he is without knowing it. I search his face; he seems sincere and kind, there is something calming about him, no violence, no pretention.

"Hi" a man appears behind me. "Can I buy you a drink ?"

I turn to him, confused, and see in the corner of my eyes that the bartender is looking down.

"No" I smile. "Thank you but I already have a drink."

The man sighs and leaves, muttering something that I probably would hate to hear ; and a few months ago I would have made him repeat.

"Daryll" the bartender says.

"Y/n" I state.

"Let me offer you this drink..." his charming dimples appear again. "It's rare enough to see a beautiful young woman ordering whiskey.”

For the first time in a very long time, I could actually picture myself spending a night with that guy and just this feeling is already amazing : It’s like I was free, my heart belongs to Dean but, if he doesn’t want me, maybe I could at least lend my body to a kind man. I look down at my glass and forget that he hits on me just because of the dress for an instant. Daryll is really cute and smiling to him is not an effort.

"Are they your brothers or something ?" he asks, putting his arms crossed on the counter.

"No..." I turn and catch Dean's eyes but look down. "Friends."

"Oh..." he says with a pained look. "One of them is an ex or a crush ?"

I give him a sad smile, not knowing what to answer.

"Okay... Maybe you want me to leave you alone" he sighs but I shake my head, taking a sip of alcohol to swallow the lump in my throat.

“No” I give him a reassuring smile. “It’s not new… Don’t worry.”

But his eyes leave mine to look behind me with a strange expression, something weirdly close to submission.

"Y/n" Dean's voice calls me from behind and I freeze. "Can I just... Talk to you ?"

I take a deep painful breath and turn slowly to see him, his sweltering charisma emanating of him, and just like that, my calming feeling of being able to see myself kiss -or more- Daryll fades. Dean eclipsing the entire world.

"Talk ?" I raise my eyebrows.

He just nods so I glance at the cute bartender.

"I... I'll be back" I say with no joy and he gives me a polite but disappointed smile.

Dean starts to walk and I follow, looking at his shoulders, afraid of the discussion coming. He doesn't stop anywhere in the bar and leads me outside. It’s still warm ; I look up to see the stars shining behind the feeble lamppost light.

“Y/n” he turns around to face me, his bow legs lightly spread like he needed to be hitched to the floor. “What is that ?”

I can’t read his body language.

“What is what ?” I mutter, ready for reproaches.

“You know every man here is trying to find a plan to bring you home…” he grunts.

“Well each time you go somewhere, it’s the same…”

He crosses he arms looking up while he takes a deep inhale. An overwhelming urge to cry strangles me and I decide to leave, opening my purse, I start looking at my phone to call a cab and walk toward the side of the bar.

Dean grabs my arm firmly.

“Where are you going ?” he asks, still pretty stern.

“I just want to go home, De…”

But I can’t finish my sentence because he pushes me against the wall, both hands making sure my shoulder touches the concrete. And before I can register any of what’s happening, his lips meet mine.

Taking a deep inhale by his nose, he crushes those plumb lips made of dream on mine and my body reacts in a thousand ways. Pure electricity roam my skin and muscles, my heart seems to grow twice his size and his beatings fasten so hard my own blood is making me high ; every erogenous part of my body takes fire and a hot slick drips between my thighs instantly.

I don’t move but Dean cups my face and kisses my mouth again, gently taking my upper lip between his. Parting my lips slightly, I feel his tongue graze me. I close my eyes and let him kiss me, he bends his head on the side a little and invades my mouth like he could only breathe through me.

I could stay like this my whole life, completely lost in the perfect feeling of his face so close, in the taste of him… But he’s eager and his hands leave my cheeks to rub my shoulders and down my arms. I didn’t know my body could feel so intensely…

A moan escapes me and his lips leave my mouth suddenly, letting it wet and swollen, open and burning. His nose grazes my ear, sending shivers run all over me, and he starts leaving open mouth kisses along my throat.

By the time his hands reach my waist, I’m shaking. His fingers are like conquerors, winning every battle, pushing boundaries. They go down my ass and squeeze it strongly, crushing me to his own waist.

This is happening.

My inner walls clench at this thought and my head falls back, only held by the concrete. He goes lower, catching the hem of my dress, slowly pulling it up, his nails scratching the back of my thighs. Another moan.

When my dress is just under my intimacy, he harshly grabs my legs and carries me easily, encouraging me to wrap them around his waist. I do.

He doesn’t take us far, just turning on the side of the bar, where the light of the lamppost doesn’t go, pushing me against the wall, his hips eagerly crushing his erection against me. His lips claim me again and, when they do, my body finally allows me to move.

I grab his neck and scratch the back of his head, rolling my hips against him. That craving I endure since I know him finally about to be satisfied. He groans in my mouth.

“Fuck…” he bites my lip, his hips joining the movement of mine, and through the rough fabric of my dress and his jean, his hard length press on my sensible clit.

“Anh!” I cry out, clinging to him. “Oh… God” I inhale, the girdle blocking my lungs in a pain my brain just registers as pleasure, because each of my cell is illuminated with it for now.

“Y/n…” he whines, his teeth teasing my pulse point.

My hands dare going lower, slipping inside his collar to feel the intoxicating move of his upper back muscles. The circle movements of my hips makes my dress slip higher and when my folds come into contact directly with his crotch, sweat breaks through my skin.

“Oh fuck…” I moan, my hips starting to shake.

His hands grab my ass to rub me more against him and I can notice his fingers searching my panties.

“No panties Y/n…” he states in a growl, bending to bite the part of my boobs accessible on my cleavage. “You’re soaking my jeans sweetheart.”

I nod and tug at his hair to dig my tongue between his perfect lips again. His hand falls between us and scrape my inner thigh, at the closeness of his fingers, my walls clench again, like it was trying to catch him. His fingers finally reach my folds and slip between.

“Dean !” I cry out. “Dean… Dean… God… Dean !”

My legs are spread wide to cling to him, so when his thumb find my clit, his middle finger encounter no trouble to reach my entrance, caressing it and pushing on it.

“Pleeease…” escapes my lips in a wail and he smiles in the kiss.

Torturing me, his finger keeps pushing on my entrance without really entering me and I have never felt so empty. I’m pathetically trying to come closer, but that’s impossible.

The tip of his middle finger finally pushes inside me and my pussy flutters. His free hand come up to grab my hair, I gasp but he doesn’t hurt me, he just tugs firmly but slowly at it to have access to my throat. He sucks a hickey on the side of it, and I let him mark me like I was his. I am, really.

His strong finger enters me in one go, making me choke in ecstasy. He doesn’t wait and slips another, grunting when he pushes deep.

I have dreamed of Dean since forever, I have pushed my own fingers inside of me thinking of him… But nothing could have prepared me for this. I’m soaking his hand, nothing ever made me that wet ; and when he crushes his hips on me in a low moan, making his digits go deeper, I can’t help but come.

I’m silent, my lungs crushed by their prison, my blood burning in my head and cleavage. Gasping for air, I feel my walls crush him and electricity shocks my whole body.

A deep growl vibrates inside him. He takes his hand off of me a little too fast and I hiss. His trembling hand attacks his belt but it's too slippery so he changes hand, putting the wet one on the wall behind me, and the other between us to free is aching cock.

When he pushes his clothes down a bit, I can’t help but look down, biting my lips. Here it is, what I crave inside of me all the time, precum nonchalantly dripping of it, red and swollen. Beautiful.

“Dean… Take me” I plead.

“Yes” he groans. “Yes…” he repeats for himself.

He lines his length with my entrance and I can’t help but moan and pant, still looking down to see his length disappear slowly inside me. When he pushes in, it’s harsh and faster than I had anticipated. A sharp pained pleasure makes me cry out loud.

The hand on the wall finds my mouth and crushes on it to silence me. In the deep inhale I take through my nose, I can smell myself.

He’s big. For a second my heart panics, like I couldn’t take him, but my walls flutter and while he doesn’t move, I have time to adjust to him.

“Are you okay ?” he pants in my ear, tickling me with his breath.

I nod despite his strong hand holding my face.

He doesn’t wait longer, withdrawing almost completely before he powerfully pushes in again, making my eyes roll in my skull. A loud scream is muffled by his large palm taking half my face.

“Fuck… Y/n… How can you be so…” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Grunting like a wild beast, he starts thrusting in me like he had waited for it as much as me. His powerful body carrying me like I weighted nothing. My ribs hurt but I don’t care at all because it can almost feel his cock between them. It’s like he was everywhere.

I love you, I think loud. Just because I’m used to say that when I think of him.

“Y/n…” he moans, and the hand on my face becomes so strong I think it could bruise my jaw.

I can feel his own pleasure, the sweat on his forehead, the shakes on his chest, the pleas in his groans, and the throbs of his cock deep inside of me. I grab his ass, slipping my hand inside his jeans to dig my nails in it, encouraging him to take me harder, even if I don’t know if I can take harder, simply because I never had it.

When his thrusts turn to hard beats of his hips, I scream in his hand and my toes curl in my shoes.

“Fuck ! F-Fuck ! Fff…” his voice is intoxicating.

Fireworks explode everywhere in my body and I’m quite sure this is an orgasm until the real thing strikes like a lightning.

My stomach contracts like I had a cramp and my thighs squeeze him stronger than I thought possible, my walls milk him and my head is spinning. I have never felt a pleasure so intense and tears soak my face.

“Oh G-G-GOD !” he cries out like he hadn’t anticipated the intensity of my orgasm at all.

He stills deep inside of me and empties himself in a wail, grabbing my jaw brutally and clumsily to crush his lips on mine. His hips start to thrust lazily after he had stilled totally and his behavior changes. He wipes my tears, gently kisses my cheeks and rubs my neck like he was trying to erase the marks his body roughly let on me.

My brain starts to register what’s happening and I look at him, amazed by his beauty and the feeling of him. I didn’t think it would be possible to love him more…

But, when I can’t help but smile to him, the look on his face hits me like a hundred punches in the guts.

He already fucking regrets.

No flirty smile. Not even a kiss.

Regret.

What was I thinking ?

After Heaven, it’s like I was thrown in Hell. I push on his lower stomach to make him withdraw, and he does, my feet reach the floor again. Not looking at me, he puts his now soft cock back in his pants, closing his belt in a disapproving shake of his head.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I can taste blood in my mouth. The world is spinning. His cum is dripping out of me, along my thighs and I look down to see it. Grabbing my purse on the floor, I take a tissue from it and wipe my thighs, an intense feeling of shame making me nauseous.

He watches me struggle with it and offers me to take the tissue to throw it away with a movement of his hand. I’m so stupidly in love with him, I have the paranoid feeling he just wants to take that back from me… I give him the tissue and he wipes his thumb when cum reaches his skin.

“Are you okay ?” he asks, like I could be.

I nod looking down, tugging at my dress to hide this body I now definitely hate.

“I didn’t hurt you sweetheart ?” he insists.

“No Dean…” I find my voice.

“Good” he states with that serious low voice of him.

“I want to go home” I say faking a casual tone.

“Sure” he nods. “Let me get Sam and your jacket…”

He gets closer and puts one of those usual friendly kisses on my temple.

I did it. I made Dean want me. But this victory just really doesn’t feel like one…

(To be continued...)

__________________________

***Feedback is Gold***

Forever Tags : @parinarain @animegirlgeeky @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496@daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @mogaruke @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @hawaiianohana31 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @alanegaming @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid @hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie

Tags are open (Some tags don’t work even if I tried everything, I’m sorry)

#supernatural #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #SPNFamily #dean winchester #Supernatural Dean Winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x yn #dean x reader #Smut #angst #jay-and-dean

1K notes · View notes

kayywinchester · 5 years ago

Text

This Life

Jack Kline x Reader

Word Count: 1,768

Warnings: fluff, heavy kissing. That’s pretty much it.

Also on AO3

The cool ground beneath you soothed your skin. The stifling, humid air around you wasn’t cooling off nearly fast enough. Even now, at just after midnight, there was a thin layer of sweat down your chest as across your brow.

But, the slight discomfort was very much worth it. The stars were so visible from the hunter’s safe house that Jody had asked Dean to meet her at earlier in the day. And now, you were stuck there for the night.

Southeastern Kentucky was nothing like the bright lights you had lived under for most of your life. The Los Angeles skies were riddled with light pollution, and you rarely had any luck finding a quiet place to relax anywhere in that city. The red clay dirt and tree-lined mountains that surrounded you were oddly calming and incredibly beautiful.

And, the best thing was, Jack loved looking at the stars just as much as you did. Sam had given him a book about astronomy a few months back, so Jack took advantage of every opportunity to show off his newly acquired knowledge.

“And up there, that’s Venus,” he whispered beside you, his light golden locks resting gently on his hand. “It has the slowest rotation of any planet we know about, and takes about two thirds of an Earth year to rotate just once. Oh, and its days are longer than its years!” You turned towards him just in time to catch the sweet grin across his lips. You found the information interesting but found it hard to focus.

But, that’s how it usually went when you were around Jack.

You turned back to the sky but didn’t ask another question. You just laid there and enjoyed one of the few moments you had alone with the handsome young Nephilim.

Jack let out a deep sigh and turned his head towards you. “Y/N, if you could be anything, what would you be?”

You chuckled and turned to him. “You mean, for a living? Besides being a hunter?” Jack nodded. “Huh, I never really thought about it.”

“Why not?” he asked innocently. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. I mean, I studied Anthropology in college, but that was only because my dad urged me to.” You stretched an arm above you for a moment, then turned yourself a little bit more towards Jack.

“He urged you to go to college, even though he trained you to be a hunter?” Jack questioned, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Yep. It was all part of the plan. You learn a lot of useful information in Anthropology classes, even if it’s only described as ‘folklore’.” Jack slowly nodded, but you were confident he was still a little confused. But, it didn’t matter. You didn’t want to talk about school. Those weren’t exactly the years you reminisced about as you drifted off to sleep each night.

“But, to answer your question, I’d probably work with animals. Like, as a vet or something,” you explained, enjoying the hint of a daydream that clouded your mind.

“You like animals? Did you have pets as a kid?” Boy, he was full of questions, wasn’t he?

“I had a dog, a terrier thing that my dad adopted from the pound when I was in seventh grade. We named her Sugar, and we had her for ten years or so. She went on hunts with my dad every once in a while, but usually stayed home with me and mom.” You cleared your throat. “But, that was it. I really like cats, but never had the chance to own one.”

Jack nodded, still smiling. “I like animals too. Cats are a little hard to read, but I’ve met a few that have walked up to me when I go on walks. I really like old dogs. I feel like they have amazing stories that they can never tell us.” You giggled as you unknowingly scooted a little closer to Jack.

“What about you, Jack? What would you want to do with your life? If you could choose?” Jack pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, then smiled yet again.

“I would like to explore space,” Jack answered innocently.

“As an astronaut? Like, actually going up into space?” Jack nodded.

“I’d also love to help discover new planets and stars. Maybe they would name one after me!” you laughed, making Jack laugh a little.

“I think that would be a great idea, Jack.” You turned back up to the sky, rolling back onto your back. “That sounds really cool.”

“Yeah, but I like this life better,” Jack rebutted. You turned your face back to him.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Jack was quiet for a moment.

“Well, because I met you in this life. And I don’t want to live a life without you in it.” Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at his words. Sure, you had only known Jack for a little while, and like Dean, believed he was evil at first. But now, he felt just like a peer, like a hunter in training, eager to learn.

And, above all else, he was a friend.

You stared up at the sky in a state of shock. “Um, wow, I don’t know what to say to that, Jack.”

“You don’t agree?” You shot back to him.

“What? No! I mean, of course I agree! I just didn’t think you felt that strongly about me.” You let out a long, deep sigh.

“What do you mean? Of course, I do! You’re my friend. And I’m really happy when I’m around you. I want to spend time with you, like all the time. And I’m sad when you’re hurt or when you’re not around,” Jack rambled. He rolled completely onto his side and smiled over to you. “I always have the urge to be near you, like sitting next to you or hugging you.” That last sentence almost made your stomach leap into your throat.

“You—really?” You pursed your lips, then turned onto your side to face Jack.

“Yeah. And, um—” Jack swallowed hard. “I’ve also thought about kissing you.” That was it, your heart was going to burst through your chest. There was no question.

“K-Kiss me? Wow.”

Jack’s eyes suddenly widened. “Is that not okay?”

You shot up onto your left arm and shook your head violently. “No! I mean, yes! Jack, that’s totally fine. I just, I didn’t know you felt the same way.” You paused for a moment, watching the sweet smile return to his face.

“The same way? You want to kiss me too?” You simply nodded, fighting the urge to giggle. You felt like you had a middle school crush again.

“Yeah, Jack. I have for a while.”

Jack inched forward a little. “Do you mind if I kiss you now?” he whispered. His gaze flicked down to your lips. You grinned and nodded.

“Go ahead.”

Jack blinked, then leaned in, stopping just short of your face. A shuttered breath escaped him before he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips firmly against yours. At first, his movements were awkward, applying a little too much pressure. But, he quickly captured your lip between his teeth, unleashing a completely different side of him.

Jack pulled away abruptly, panting a little. You stared at him with wide eyes and huffed.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” you breathed in shock. Jack’s cheeks reddened and he turned away.

“I watch a lot of romance movies. I like to pretend it’s you and me.” You couldn’t help but giggle at how cheesy he sounded, but it didn’t matter. You loved the softness and hint of edginess that was radiating from him.

“That’s… adorable.” You reached out and took his hand in yours. Jack blushed and quickly looked away again. You tried to follow his gaze but squeezed his hand instead. “Would you like to kiss me again?” His eyes snapped back to you.

“Yes,” he breathed just as he leaned in, without hesitation this time.

Jack’s movements were a little frantic, but you didn’t mind taking the reins. Jack pulled his hand from yours, smoothing it up your arm, shoulder, neck. The moment his hands snaked up into your hair, you leaned back, pulling him down with you. He quickly found his way on top of you, hovering over you as he slowed down, softening his touches.

You both stayed like that for what felt like an hour. But, the sound of footsteps on the dirt behind you quickly ripped the two of you apart.

“Oh, I wondered where you two went. Watching the stars, huh?” Dean chuckled mockingly. “I can see you’re very interested in the stars.”

“Oh, shut it, Dean,” you hissed, lifting yourself from the ground. You patted the dust off you and turned towards the older Winchester.

“We were watching the stars most of the time,” Jack defended innocently.

“Oh, I bet you were seeing all sorts of stars,” Dean teased as he turned to walk away. “Glad you two are alive. Goodnight,” he saluted, heading back for the small cabin. You rolled your eyes then turned back to Jack.

“He really knows how to spoil a special moment.” You ran your fingers through your hair and waited for Jack to dust himself off. His hair stuck up in a few places, making you smile.

“Yeah, but we’ll have another chance to do that, right?” Jack met your gaze. You nodded.

“Oh yeah, I think I can make that work.” You shot him a wink, then held out your hand. “C’mon. Let’s get to sleep. I’m sure it’s well into the morning right now.” Jack took your hand.

“Are we all going to fit into the cabin?” Jack asked, suddenly concerned.

“We’re gonna have to. I have a sleeping bag, and I found another one for you. Sam and Dean claimed the rooms, since there’s only one twin bed in each room. The couch is open too, but it’s a loveseat, so it’s a little bit small. Cas said he’s just going to hang out in one of the chairs. So, we have the luxury of sleeping on the floor in the main room.” You led Jack up the front steps of the tiny cabin and reached for the door.

“That doesn’t sound too bad. As long as you’re there too.” His sweetness made your stomach flutter.

“Oh, I’m here. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Jack stared at you in confusion. You huffed a laugh, then leaned over, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

#jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack x reader #jack kline and reader #jack kline fluff #jack kline x reader fluff #jack kline reader insert #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction

252 notes · View notes

jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Valenties Day Sweetheart...

A/N: Just a little Valentine's Day Dean x Reader for you guys!! As always all mistakes are mine, and feedback is appreciated!! Hope you all enjoy and are having a wonderful Valentine's Day!!

Warnings: SSMMMUUUTTTTT!! lol. Light language, Dean being a fucking sweetheart, yes that’s a warning. SO MUCH FLUFF!!! Fluffy smut, unprotected smut, valentine's day adorableness, your welcome lol.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3120

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

*****MASTERLIST****

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

You had been in a relationship with Dean Winchester for four years now, and while it hasn’t always been easy, you never regretted a single day of it.

No relationship was perfect. There were arguments in which you both said things you really didn’t mean, and some things you couldn’t take back. You loved each other with a burning passion, and you fought with one just as white-hot as you loved each other. You both had your moments where you couldn’t stand each other…

Then there were the moments where you couldn’t get enough of each other…

Nights of passion that burned so hot in your memory there weren’t even words to describe them. Nights that drove your love deeper, and deeper, bonding the two of you together; fixing your soul to his and his to yours. Nights that connected you on a level that people wrote novels and fairy tales about. Those are the nights that kept you going.

They kept you going when you didn’t get to see him for weeks at a time because of a hunt that didn’t go the way it was planned, or the nights that you spent pacing the floors waiting for the phone to ring just to hear his voice; just to know that he was okay.

The amount of trauma Dean had been through in his life made him a little hard to love. There were walls built up around him that even in four years he hadn’t let you past. There were some that slowly crumbled, but there were some that were still standing high and showed very little signs of coming down.

It was his defense, the way he protected himself, you knew that and you didn’t push him. That’s how this relationship has worked for the two of you as long as it had. You never pushed him. If he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t drill him, you just waited until he was ready. If he didn’t want to relive it, you sure as hell weren’t going to make him, no matter how much you wanted to know what was going on in that head of his sometimes; you weren’t going to do that to him.

You’d resolved a long time ago that no matter what you’d just be there for him, and when he was ready to bring those walls down, no matter what horror he’d had hidden behind there, you’d be there for him through it.

You were his, and he was yours. That means accepting each other's faults, failures, and mistakes. No matter how dark and ugly they were, Dean had some that were pretty dark, and pretty ugly. Still, you loved him more than you loved your own life.

Dean wasn’t a very emotional or romantic person. Years of seeing shit that would drive normal people insane had made him hard, a little rough around the edges. He didn’t know how to show affection a lot of the time like you would expect in a normal relationship with any other Joe Blow anyway.

Hell, it took a solid year for him to get used to cuddling. It was just something he’d never done before. One of those walls. Once he learned that he did enjoy the closeness he craved it, even if he still wouldn’t do such a thing in front of his brother to this day. He now would drag the two of you off to your shared room at night after everyone had settled in for the day, or after a particularly bad hunt just so he could lay next to you and cuddle with you.

The holidays were a whole other wall altogether, one that would make the builders of Jericho take note. He didn’t like very many holidays at all, except for Halloween that is, and you were pretty sure that was just because of the free candy.

You can still remember the first time he bought you a Christmas present. It was about six months into your relationship. You knew how he felt about the holidays, so you didn’t even bother trying to make a big deal out of it. You just bought him a bottle of his favorite whiskey and left it in his room on Christmas eve; not making a big deal out of it cause you knew he hated that.

Much to your surprise, the next night there was a box on your bed with a bracelet inside of it. You never took it off from that night on.

Standing in the check out line at the supermarket for the supply run that you’d gone on you hadn’t even realized it was February 14th until you saw a young man holding a box of chocolate-covered strawberries and flowers in his hand. Which made you look around you, and there were balloons and different things promoting valentine's day sales.

Sighing to yourself you paid for your items and made your way to the car you’d borrowed from the men of letters bunker to make the supply run.

Valentine's day was something Dean had never celebrated with you. Sam said once that he was sure it was because he’d seen his dad break his mom’s heart setting dates and things and never showing up for it on Valentine's day. You never pushed it, you didn’t mind. You knew that he’d be home waiting for you by the time you got there, and you’d have him in your arms after a particularly long hunt, and that's enough. You didn’t need a special day for Dean to show you how much he loved you. He showed you every day in his own way, and that was more than you could ever ask for because you still couldn’t figure out what you did to deserve someone like him.

When you got home the bunker was surprisingly quiet. You saw Baby parked in her usual spot, so you knew that the boys were home, but there were no sounds in the bunker as you made your way down the stairs.

“Sam? Dean?” You called for them as you made your way toward the kitchen. Nothing…

Putting the groceries away you texted Dean. You were about to panic when Dean’s text came back to you.

“Baby where are you?”

“Hey, baby girl. Head to the bedroom when you get a chance. We got the bunker to ourselves tonight. Sam is with Eileen.”

You narrowed your eyes at the phone suspiciously. Why was your boyfriend hiding out in the bedroom and not coming to help you with the groceries like he normally does? Shrugging it off, you finished putting up the groceries and made your way down the hallway to your room.

Opening the door you found no Dean. Just a read box on the bed. With a handwritten note on a small piece of paper.

“Why don’t you open this and go take a bath. I’ve got everything already ready for you. Dean”

Looking around the room suspiciously you see no sign of Dean, but he obviously had something up his sleeve. Roll play and games like this normally were not his style, but you never know with Dean, he’d surprised you more than once. You never knew what the man had up his sleeve.

Reaching down you pulled the ribbon on the box in front of you and opened it. Revealing a new blood-red bathrobe, complete with a silk red nightgown, and matching thong. Blinking at it for a moment you ran the material between your fingers.

This was new, Dean had NEVER brought you lingerie before, he didn’t even like buying himself new underwear when he needed it, he usually just put it on the list and sent you to pick it up for him.

Shoving the pure shock aside, and deciding just to go with it, you grab your new attire that he’d picked out for the night, and made your way to the bathroom.

A few years back Dean had a bathtub installed for you, and when you walked into the bathroom It was already filled, little tea light candles littering the room, along with rose petals on the floor. Your favorite bath bomb already placed in the water and just simmering the last of its remnants away before dissolving completely. Which told you Dean was indeed in the bunker and was just moving one step ahead of you.

Walking over to the counter you place your clothes down next to the towel and pick up the next handwritten note laying there.

“When you're done come back to the bedroom, I’ll be waiting for you.”

After taking your bath per your orders, you dried yourself off, feeling a lot more relaxed than you did when you’d gotten to the bunker from the supply run earlier that day, and put on your new clothes. Tying up the robe around yourself before making your way toward your shared room again.

You were not gonna lie, you were more than a little anxious about what you’d find there. So far this evening he’d been one step ahead of you. Your heart was beating hard in your chest and you came to stop in front of the door. Taking a deep breath you opened it slowly.

You didn’t look up until you were fully inside, and when you did you couldn’t help but gasp.

The only light was a soft glow of candles that now littered the room. Red rose petals scattered everywhere.

That wasn’t the first thing you saw though.

In the middle of the floor, surrounded by rose petals, was Dean. kneeling before you. His hand stretched out to you, beckoning you to him. Slowly you made your way to him, tears are already welling in your eyes. You had never seen Dean do anything like this for you the whole four years you were together.

“Dean,” was all you could get out when you finally made your way over to him. You didn’t trust yourself to not start bawling right there like a lunatic and totally ruining everything he’d obviously worked so hard to plan.

Dean said nothing, just slipped his hand into yours, drawing your attention to him. His green eyes pierced through the dimmed light of the room. His features were calm, and at peace. It’s something you didn’t see from him often.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small, older looking black velvet box and your heart stopped for a moment.

He turned it over in his fingers before locking eyes with you.

“You know how bad I am with words,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But, bear with me okay.”

All you could do was nod. You were pretty sure that your voice wouldn’t work at all at this point, and even if it did you would start to cry.

“You are more than I ever deserved you know that? I never thought I would be allowed after everything I’ve done, and the life that I live, that I would be allowed to have someone like you. I know I’m not perfect. I’m an asshole most of the time. I’m hard to live with, I’ve got more issues than anyone I’ve ever known, some you know about, and some you probably don’t. I’m harder than I should be. I drink way too much. Hell, I’m not that good of a person the whole way around. Still, for some reason I’ll never understand you stuck with me even when you had every right to get up and leave my ass. I’ve deserved it on more than one occasion. I can’t give you a house, I can’t even give you a family, Life with me will never be safe, there will always be someone, something hiding in the shadows that wants more than anything to kill me, or you because of me, I can’t promise you that we got tomorrow. I doubt I’ll live to be an old man, there’s so much I want to give you, that I’ll never be able to, but if you’ll have me...”

Never breaking eye contact with you Dean opened the small box in his hand. Revealing a vintage style engagement ring, with a single diamond on a gold band, one that you recognized as his mother’s. Tears now falling freely down your face.

“I know legally I can’t marry you, the life I’ve lived won't let me, but we got an angle of the Lord hanging around here, and the way I see it is that’s more binding than any piece of paper in some courthouse somewhere. Y/N, I may not have a long life ahead of me, but I want to spend what I have with you. Will you marry me?”

You were struck dumb. For someone who said he wasn’t good at talking he sure as hell said a lot. Tears were blurring your vision at this point, your voice came out in a choked “yes” that you knew for a fact he probably didn’t understand, so you just stood there and nodded like an idiot.

Dean slipped the ring onto your left finger and was on his feet so fast that you didn’t have time to really process it. His lips on yours, kissing you with more love and admiration that he’d ever done before.

This felt like some ridiculous dream. You never thought in a million years that Dean would ever go this far as to ask you to marry him. You had spent nights dreaming about it, but never knew that this dream with him could be a reality, so you just forced yourself to be content with what you had with him. Right now though, as he backed you towards your shared bed, his lips never leave yours, his hands sliding the robe down your body to pool onto the floor before he laid you down softy, your heart was so full there were no words for what you were feeling.

Trailing kisses from you the sensitive skin behind your ear all the way down to your neck, Dean slowly slid your nightgown from your body as he worked. His fingertips trailing softly over your skin, leaving little bumps in their wake.

Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, and he set up long enough to slip it down his arms and throw it to the floor too. Making quick work of his jeans and boxers while he was there. His cock already slapping against his stomach as he freed himself from the confines of his boxers. Already hard and leaking at its swollen tip.

He caged his body over yours, finding your lips again as he trailed his fingers lightly from the valley of your cleavage, all the way down to the thong that you had left, sliding it down your body with ease.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N, I love you so much.”

His voice was deep, ragged. Feeling like it vibrated through your body, and wrapped around your very soul.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean’s lips found yours again more hungry this time, but still moving slowly. Stealing your breath from you as his tongue glided over yours like it had done so many times before. Grinding his thick length against your already soaking folds. Your body begging for him.

“Dean please.”

Nodding his head he slipped the tip through your folds, gathering up your slick before he slowly sank into you. Falling into place perfectly. Filling and stretching you like only he could. A deep sigh leaving both of your lips as he completely filled you.

There was no rush. No pounding of your bodies together to find your release. Dean slowly ground against you. His hips never really leave yours. Keeping himself buried deep inside of you. His strong arms holding you close to him as he sucked a deep purple mark on your neck before making his way back up to your lips, claiming you as his for the world to see.

Thrusting into you slowly as he kissed you, grinding your bodies together harder and harder. His pelvis hitting your clit in just the right way, the constant pressure against your G spot as he ground himself into you was sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. Soon the only sounds in the room were deep sighs, moans, and whispered affections as he continued his slow deep pace. Slowly, so as to not break the connection of your bodies he sat you up in his lap, hitting even deeper inside of you at the new angle.

His fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip as you help you grind against him, keeping your bodies firmly pressed together. Your head falling back as he peppered your neck and chest with open mouth kisses between moans of his own.

It was the most intimate thing you’d ever experienced in your life. The way he held you together, driving you both slowly toward your end. Bodies moving together. His fingers trailing little pattern over your back with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your hips. His body rubbing against your own with each movement he made.

The way your arms snaked around his neck while the other hand found its way into his soft tousled hair. Pushing, pulling, moving together. So familiar in a lot of ways, yet so different in others. This time deeper, more intimate, connected on such a deep level it was almost overwhelming until finally, your body couldn’t take it anymore, and the coil that had been winding white-hot in your belly snapped, throwing you over the edge in an orgasm so strong inside that it felt like it was licking at your very soul. Dean working you slowly through it, dragging it out as much and as long as he could before he spilled deep inside of you with a groan. Stilling himself. Holding your bodies as close and as tight together as he had the strength to. Your body milking his, greedily taking everything that he had to give you.

When you both finally had control over your bodies Dean laid you down softly on the bed. Getting up and going to get a warm cloth from the bathroom, cleaning you up, then himself before blowing out the candles in the room, and crawling into bed with you, pulling you as close to him as possible.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile that was on your face as you brushed your lips over his, exhausted, and more content than you ever had been in your life.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean..”

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero

353 notes · View notes

shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Want a Soulmate

Dean Winchester stared at the clock with rapt attention. In exactly fifty-eight seconds he would be turning eighteen and somewhere on his body, his soulmate tattoo would appear. He glanced over at his younger brother who was fast asleep. Sam was in awe of the idea of having a mark on your body that was a perfect match to another person’s. Even though he was four years from getting his mark, for the past few months, it had been the only thing he wanted to talk about.

“Dean, what do you think yours will be?” “Do you think it will hurt when it appears?” “How long do you think it will take for you to find your soulmate?” “What if you don’t like your soulmate?”

Dean had finally shouted at his brother to quit asking about the stupid things. Unlike Sam, Dean hated the idea of the soulmate marks. He was furious that he didn’t get to choose the person he was going to spend his life with. He had learned all too well how fate could be a bitch. His parents were a perfect example.

Mary Campbell had been the sweetest, most outgoing person who saw the good in everything. Mary Winchester was a shell of the person she was before she met John Winchester. After enduring years of abuse from John, Mary took her own life when Dean was thirteen and Sam was nine. Dean had sworn to himself that if his soulmate were anything like John, he would never stay with them.

Dean watched anxiously as the seconds on the clock ticked down. As soon as the time changed to midnight, he felt a bright hot pain sear into his left shoulder. He gritted his teeth through the pain, not wanting to wake up his sleeping brother. Once the pain had faded, Dean walked into the bathroom to see what his mark looked like. He stood in front of the mirror and slowly pulled his shirt sleeve back.

Dean’s mark was a simple hourglass with equal amounts of green sand in the top bulb and blue sand in the bottom bulb. “Well, it’s not the worst mark I’ve ever seen,” Dean muttered into the quiet bathroom. He glared at the mark as he pulled his sleeve down to cover it. He was going to do his best to pretend like the thing didn’t even exist.

*****

Dean was standing at the bar drying shot glasses when the seat in front of hum was suddenly filled with six feet of aggravated Castiel Novak. Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured the tattoo artist a shot before sliding it over to him. Cas glanced up at him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Dean threw the towel over his shoulder and leaned forward on the counter, his elbows supporting most of his weight. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Cas slammed the empty shot glass down as he growled, “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t wear panties.” He smirked at his roommate as he said, “You on the other hand have quite an extensive collection.”

Dean grinned, completely unashamed. “Damn straight! I’m telling you buddy the material feels so good against your skin and they hug you in all the right places.”

“As I always say, I’ll take your word for it. Pour me another shot.” Cas slid the glass back over to Dean.

Dean poured more whiskey into the glass. Cas went to reach for it, but Dean shook his head. “Nah ah, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Give me the damn glass, Dean,” Cas snarled.

Dean glared at his friend, refusing to follow his order. “No. Something happened and I want to know what.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your roommate, but also because I’m your friend, Cas. I need to know if I have to go beat somebody up,” Dean answered.

“We’ve only been roommates for a few weeks Dean.”

“And?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cas huffed but finally said, “Balth dumped me for some twink in tight little boy shorts. Like, if the dude is even eighteen, I’d be surprised. We’ve been together for two years and he cheated on me for a fucking twink! What the hell does he have that I don’t?”

Dean passed the shot glass over and Cas downed it in one go. He held the bottle out and said, “Here, you need this.” Cas took a long gulp from the bottle. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know you really liked him.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t know how much I liked him anymore. The past few months haven’t been all that great. I think I’m more pissed about the fact that he refused to break up with me to my face. Not to mention, he chose somebody that’s at least a decade younger than me. Great boost to my ego.”

Dean reached out to grip Cas’ shoulder in a comforting embrace. “Look, Balth was a douche and you deserve so much better. If he can’t see how great of a guy you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Cas flashed a small grin at his friend. “Thanks Dean. You know, I still can’t fathom why you are single. I mean, it’s not like you give a shit about the whole soulmate mark so why not have a little fun?”

“Why even start something with somebody if they’re just gonna leave you in the end? I’m ok with being single for the rest of my life,” Dean replied with a shrug.

“So, why don’t you go look for your soulmate then? I know you’re afraid after what happened with your mom, but you’ve got to try, Dean,” Cas insisted.

“No,” Dean said sternly. “I’d rather be single than find out that my so-called perfect match is some douchebag.”

Cas frowned. “I wish you would let me see your mark. I’m sure it’s something awesome.”

“It’s nothing special. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever let me see yours,” Dean shot back.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to since you’ve made it very clear how you feel about them. Hell, I learned about your panty collection on the second day of knowing you and you made less of a fuss about that. You nearly bit my head off when I asked about your mark.” Cas lifted the bottle to his lips and took another sip from it.

“Did you ever see Balth’s mark?” Dean asked softly.

Cas nodded as he answered, “Yeah, it was some weird cross thing. Not even close to matching mine.”

Dean sighed. He had only known Cas for a few weeks, but he was the best roommate Dean had ever had. The previous three had been nothing but trouble. One brought all their dates to the apartment and Dean had to listen to them going at it all night. Another smoked pot nonstop. Dean wasn’t a prude; he’d tried a lot of things in his twenty-five years of life but even he didn’t want his apartment smelling like a pot factory nonstop. The one before Cas had been ok except for the fact that they didn’t pay their part of the rent, so Dean kicked them out.

From the very first day, Cas had been an enigma. Cas was the only tattoo artist Dean knew who didn’t have a single tattoo of his own. When Dean had asked why, Cas said he didn’t want to have them, and his soulmate not like them. Dean had scoffed at they, saying it was Cas’ body and he should be able to do to it what he wanted.

That wasn’t the only weird thing about Cas, though. His favorite piece of clothing was an old tan trench coat that was frayed at the seams and had a few odd stains on it. Cas said he’d had it since he was a teenager and couldn’t bear to part with it. Cas also had an unhealthy obsession with bees and botany. Dean had listened to dozens of lectures about how important bees were to the environment and which flowers attracted them the most. The weirdest thing about Cas was the way he always tilted his head and scrunched his eyes and nose when he was confused. Living with Dean meant he was confused most of the time.

Even though Cas was an odd guy and was taken, Dean had quickly fallen head over heels for him. Before Cas, he would have never spent hours watching nature documentaries or thought that anybody would look good in a baggy trench coat. Dean’s heart stuttered every time he caught Cas doing the adorable head tilt thing.

It was because he was so in love with Cas that Dean said, “If you show me your mark, I’ll show you mine.”

Dean nearly dropped the glass he was holding when Cas cocked his head and scrunched his eyes. “You’ve never wanted to see it before, why now?”

“MaybebecauseIlikeyou,” Dean said in one go.

“Uh, Dean. I didn’t understand a thing you just said.”

Dean sighed before slowly saying, “Maybe because I like you.” Dean felt bile rising as Cas continued to stare at him. “Oh shit, you don’t feel the same way. Fuck, you just broke up with your boyfriend and here I am admitting I have feelings for you.” Dean dropped his eyes and muttered, “Way to go Winchester.”

“Dean look at me,” Cas said gently. Dean slowly lifted his eyes to lock with Cas’ blue ones. “Maybe I like you too. It was just one more thing that was driving Balth and I apart.”

“Oh great, I’m the reason your boyfriend of two years cheated on you,” Dean cried as he threw his hands in the air.

“No, you weren’t,” Cas assured. “We’ve been falling apart for months, so please don’t blame yourself. If I truly loved him, there’s no way I would have fallen for you.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “Dean, I don’t care if our marks don’t match. If we start something, I’m not going to leave you for some stranger who has the same mark as I do.” Before Dean could reply, Cas pulled his left shirt sleeve up and exposed his mark to the dim light.

Dean gasped as his eyes locked on the hourglass filled with green and blue sand. He shook his head, whispering, “It can’t be,” over and over. He tore his eyes away from the mark to stare at Cas wide eyed.

“Dean, is everything alright?” Cas asked with concern.

Dean’s hand shook as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and slid it up over his shoulder, allowing Cas to the see the mark etched into his skin. Cas’ jaw fell as he stared at the mark. Cas looked at Dean, his expression a mirror image. “Our marks… they match.”

“Yeah,” Dean said shakily.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve imagined meeting my soulmate hundreds of times, but I never imagined he’d end up being my roommate,” Cas said in awe.

Dean was hesitant as he replied, “I’ve always been so afraid of meeting mine. I hated that fate got to decide my perfect match instead of me.”

“And now?” Cas asked hopefully.

Dean’s lips spread into a bright smile. “Now, I guess I have to admit fate knew what it was doing when it picked my soulmate.” He grabbed a fistful of Cas’ shirt and pulled him across the counter. Their mouths met in the middle. Dean moved his lips against Cas’ and marveled at how soft they felt. Cas moaned and Dean took the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Their tongues danced with one another as the kiss deepened. As they broke apart, Dean whispered, “I think I might already be in love with you.”

Cas kissed Dean again before replying, “I know I’m already in love with you.”

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

#writersmonth2020 #My writing #my OTP #destiel #soulmate

48 notes · View notes