#sabrina's 250 follower writing challenge

[hoboal87]

In Secret

Title: In Secret

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jensen have been in a secret relationship for five years, and she wants more.

Warnings: Angst, Affair, Open Relationship, Oral (F receiving), Implied Smut, Jensen Is A Bit Of An Ass

A/N: This is my entry for @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ “Make Me Swoon” writing challenge!  My prompt is “I’m tired of being your secret.” 

A/N 2: Y’all, I never expected such an overwhelming positive response to this one-shot! This will soon be a multi-part series, I’ve already started working on the next part, but I don’t know if I’ll get anything posted before Elastic Heart is complete. 

A/N 3: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS COMMENTED/REBLOGGED/ASKED TO BE TAGGED!

No Beta all mistakes are mine.

The air is thick around you, the smell of sex filling every inch of your room. You could die just like this, here, with the man you love, holding you tight against him as you both come down from your highs. He rolls you both over, his hand gently rubbing over your stomach, inching down to your sore and swollen pussy. You groan when he dips a finger into wet heat.

“I love cumming in you,” he whispers, gently biting at your ear, and you can feel his smile. “Wish I could do it every day.” He starts pumping his finger, tightening the coil again, and you bite back another moan.

“Mmm,” you hum as he sinks another finger in, his thumb brushes over your clit. You reach behind you, palming his half-hard cock. “You could, y'know.”

The atmosphere between you changes in an instant, he huffs, and pulls away from you, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You should’ve known this is how he would react, every time you breach the subject it always ends the same way. The guilt you both feel, the lying, all of it comes to the surface, rearing its ugly head.

“Just tell her,“ you beg as he leaves your bed. "That’s the whole point of your agreement, isn’t it?” He doesn’t respond, reaching down to grab his once hastily discarded jeans off the floor. “She gets to fuck whoever she wants and so do you.”

“This is different, Y/N. You know that,” he sighs and steps into his jeans.

“Why?” You sit up, using the sheet to keep yourself covered. “Tell me, Jensen. Why is this different? Why is okay for her to think that your out fucking some random girl instead of me?”

“Y/N,” Jensen turns around, his emerald eyes staring you down. “It’s more complicated than that. We-” he gestures between you, “we have a history. You don’t think she knows about our past?”

“Our past?” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “We were friends. There’s nothing in our past, we didn’t even start any of this until after you two were together. You had years- years Jay, to do something about that. You knew how I felt about you, but instead you jumped from girl to girl and I was the one who had to put you back together, she doesn’t get to take all the credit.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this fight with Jensen. Every time they go on hiatus you beg him to stay just a few days longer, knowing that it would be almost two months before he’d be back. You know deep down that it isn’t fair, he spends nine months out of the year in Vancouver, and when he’s here it’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. You and Jensen couldn’t go out in public, not even as “friends,” all it would take was one ill-timed photo to throw both of your worlds into utter chaos.

Being the other woman came with its own set of rules. When it all started you were just happy to be able to be with him, even if that meant it began and ended at the threshold of your home. When you were together you were the only two people in the world, you didn’t discuss her or the fact that she was pregnant. You, in particular, were allowing yourself to live in ignorant bliss cherishing everything he had to give you. You never thought you were the type of person who’d be having an affair with anyone, let alone Jensen, but you can’t help yourself from falling into bed with him every time he comes over.

You’d gone to high school together, and for four years you waited patiently for him to ask you out on a date. Instead, he dated one of your friends, biting your tongue when he told you about their relationship ending; you knew it wouldn’t last.

You went your separate ways after high-school, you’d stayed in Texas to go to college, and he’d gone off to Hollywood, you’d kept in touch through the years. Reconnecting when you’d moved to Vancouver for your job. It started out as harmless flirting, double entendres, and teasing.

The first time you slept together it wasn’t something either of you had planned. She was in L.A. working on her latest movie, and you were still on the rebound from your latest break-up. It was a night of too many drinks and loneliness drove your actions. You kept your distance from each other in the weeks that followed, sorting out your feelings, unsure if it was a one-time drunken mistake or the start of something real.

The second time you were both sober. He’d come over to discuss what happened; how he would never cheat on her, he was in love with her, he wanted to marry her. You tried to understand, Jensen was always a fantasy, someone who you could never have. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him over sex. You both agreed to put it behind you, never discuss it again, “pretend it never happened,” he insisted. It nearly killed you, but you nodded hesitantly.

He reached out to squeeze your knee, and you made your way towards the front door. You fidgeted with your hands as you entered the front walkway, not wanting him to leave. There was a hesitation as Jensen reached for the doorknob, and you pulled him in for a hug, melting your body into him. Before you knew what was happening, your lips were on his, wanting, needing more. He had you caged against the wall, hands pawing at you, lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and he ground himself against you. His mouth never left yours as he carried you to your bedroom, dropping you playfully on the bed.

Jensen rid himself of his shirt while you shed your own, desperate to have his skin against yours. The first time was messy, rushed, this time you wanted to take your time, appreciate every moment that you were having with him. He placed sweet wet kisses over your breasts, making his way down, tugging at your jeans to expose your soaked panties. You lifted your hips as he hooked his fingers around them, pulling them along with your jeans down, tossing them onto the floor.

Jensen placed gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, you could feel him smiling against your skin as he moved towards your aching pussy. His eyes met yours, giving you a final chance to stop him. “Please, Jay,” you murmured. Each swipe of his tongue was pure ecstasy, you reached down for him, holding his face closer to you.

You try to clench your legs around him, but he keeps them apart, eyes flicking up at you as you fall apart. He continues his assault on your cunt, removing one hand, and teasing you with his finger. You groaned as it slid through your folds up to your clit, pressing down as his tongue fucked into you. Unable to make any intelligible sounds, you heard a low chuckle come from him as two fingers entered your weeping hole.

He pumped them fast, spurring you on as you felt the coil tightening. You felt yourself clenching around him and you breathing grew heavier, his fingers finding your sweet spot, brushing it again and again as his mouth focused on your bundle of nerves. You lost all control of yourself when he added a third finger, cumming hard on his face.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he pulled away. He climbed up your body, placing wet kisses over you until he was hovering above you. His cock was hard and ready, precum leaking from the tip, you gently wrapped your hand around him, and he let out a soft groan as you slowly began to pump him. He kissed you passionately and you could taste the release of your climax on his lips.

“I love you, Jay,” you whimper. It wasn’t something you were ever planning on admitting to him, or to yourself, but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear as you guided him towards your entrance. Jensen’s eyes bore deep into you, studying your face as you took in his words.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, “fuck me.”

Jensen doesn’t move; you know he doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m tired of being your secret,” you huff. “It’s been five years.”

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He shouts, throwing his hands into his hair. “She’s my wife, the mother of my children. You want me to throw it all away?”

You try to stammer out a response, but he continues, pacing in front your bed.

“You act like this is easy for me, it isn’t. I told you after that second time, I’m never going to leave her. You said you could accept that. That’s the only reason we continued this. She’s paranoid enough about you as it is, and you want me to tell her that we’ve been sleeping together for the past five years, how do you think that will make her feel?”

“How will it make her feel?” you scoff. “What about how I feel? My feelings don’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N.”

“I’ve kept my feelings to myself for years, Jay. I’ve tried to be understanding, I haven’t asked you for anything. I don’t push the subject, but I’m tired, Jay.”

He paces in front of you, muttering to himself.

“I want you, Jay, you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you whisper, it’s something you both know, but you never planned to say it out loud. “I broke up with Steven for you.”

“He never deserved you, sweetheart,” he says, and a smile creeps upon your face. For a moment you think that he’ll admit that he wants more with you.

"You never like anyone I date, Jay,” you chuckle slightly, “I think it because you’re jealous.”

Jensen’s body stiffens, and you know immediately that he doesn’t like your joke. He grabs his shirt off the dresser and pulls it over his head before storming out of the room.

“Jensen, babe, I was just-” you follow him out, quickly pulling on a camisole and yoga pants, not bothering with underwear. “Jay, it was a joke.”

“We both know it wasn’t Y/N,“ he snaps back and your smile quickly fades. "You think I like watching you parade with some douche? You wanna slut around with some fuckin’ prick, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Jay,” you hiss. “You don’t get to act like some jealous boyfriend. You’ve made it very clear just now, that I am not your girlfriend or whatever you wanna call this.”

“You’re right, babygirl, I’m not,” he huffs, “and I’m never going to be. I’m never going to be yours, Y/N. If I wanted that, I would’ve made my move a long time ago.” Jensen’s words are like stabs to your heart, and you try to conceal the tears forming in your eyes. “I chose her over you, I’ll always choose her over you.”

There’s a flash of regret playing on his face. There they were; the words that you knew were coming sooner or later. You’d hoped he’d never say them, that the two of you could go on the way you had been for years in denial. He remains stoic as you use every ounce of willpower to not break down in front of him.

"We’re never gonna be more than this, Y/N,” he says softly. “You have to know that.”

“Y'know Jay, if you wanted this to stay casual,” you wipe the tears away, “all you had to do was say so. You’re so concerned about her, but she’s in Austin ‘slutting around’ as you delicately put it, sleeping with who knows how many people-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” Jensen screamed, and your heart fell into your stomach. He’s never yelled at you like this before, you pushed him too far this time, letting your own jealousy take over. “Don’t talk about what goes on in my relationship with my wife. She is nothing like you, she doesn’t spread her legs every time someone gives her the time of day.”

“You fucking asshole!” You yell, picking up everything that you could get your hands on, and throwing it at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Y/N,” he tries to reason with you, blocking himself from the barrage of items being thrown at him. “Baby, listen.”

“No!” You push him towards the front door and he stumbles backwards into the hallway.

“Y/N,” Jensen reaches out to soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t touch me,” you slap his hand away. “You’re never gonna touch me again,” you push him again, moving him closer to the door. “You can go back to your perfect wife, your perfect family. Congratulations, Jay. You don’t have to choose. We’re done.”

Part 2

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #implied smut #angst #makemeswoon #sabrina's 250 follower writing challenge

[jensenswinchester]

The Thought of Losing You

Summary: This is my spin on 14.02 (Gods and Monsters) and 14.11 (Damaged Goods). 

Prompt: “The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me.”

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers. Lots of profanity, lots of angst, dollop of fluff.

Word Count: 5,315

A/N: This is my entry for Sabrina @winchesterxfamilybusiness​‘s 250 Followers Writing Challenge! This was my first time writing for Supernatural and ever posting anything I’ve ever written. I hope you like it!

Y/N knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Dean Winchester, but her brain and her heart weren’t exactly on the same page.

There were only so many times she could watch the man she loved and idolized sacrifice himself as if his own life was meaningless. Every time she lost Dean, the pain became more and more unbearable. She grew up alongside the Winchesters, her grandfather being one of the men John Winchester learned his tricks and skills from when he was younger. His dying wish was for John to protect her, and when he passed years later, that duty was passed down to Sam and Dean. The pair didn’t mind, she was family to them. Sam liked being a big brother to someone for a change, and Dean welcomed the days when she would spend time with them so he had someone other than Sam to hang out with. 

It was safe to say Y/N had been there through everything. She was there when Sam died and when Dean made the crossroads deal. She was there when the hellhounds dragged him to hell and when he made his miraculous return months later. She watched the Mark of Cain change him in ways she never imagined, and then hid from his demon alter-ego when he tried to kill her and Sam in the bunker. 

The point is, she was there for every high and low, and she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to handle another low.

In the most cliche turn of events, Y/N developed feelings for the older brother over time. How could she not? He looked after her more than her own father the majority of the time. She idolized him from a young age, thought he was so cool, felt the most at ease around him. Dean was always there and Y/N had no choice but to fall for him, and hard. Of course, in another cliche fashion, she couldn’t dare tell him. He was her best friend and he certainly could do better than what she had to offer. 

The most recent predicament was Michael, the Archangel from another universe who wormed his way into their world with Lucifer. Selfishly, Y/N was relieved when their world’s Michael stopped trying to convince Dean to be his vessel and the angels stopped pursuing him, though she felt bad for Adam. She never imagined she’d find herself in this situation: Dean, saying yes to this new Michael, in order to save his brother and Jack from Lucifer.

Dean dismissed her when he sent Bobby and Mary to the garage. She begged him to let her stay, to let her help, and of course not to do anything stupid, but Bobby pulled her away as soon as Dean’s jaw clenched and that look crossed his handsome face. Usually she could win, that look would fade and he’d be putty in her hands. In that moment, she was scared of him, because the look resembled the murderous glare his demon self threw her way seconds before narrowly missing her with that forsaken hammer.

When Sam and Jack returned to the bunker without Dean, Y/N’s heart stopped and her breath hitched in her chest, a clockwork reaction any time something terrible happened to him. 

“N-no,” she whimpered, looking at Sam through blurry eyes as the tears threatened to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, finding it hard to watch her break over his brother yet again. “Michael…he tricked him and…”

“He disappeared,” Jack sighed. The room began to spin as the dizziness washed over Y/N. She fumbled in place, clutching the back of the chair in front of her at the war table, Sam rushing to her side and gathering her into his arms. 

“We’re gonna find him honey,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her. He squeezed her tighter as she sobbed into his flannel, wishing he could do more. He wasn’t Dean, he didn’t have the same connection with her as his brother did, and he hated that there was nothing more he could do for her. 

That was almost two months ago.

Over the last nearly eight weeks, Y/N battled between wanting to go out and look for Dean and succumbing to the intense sadness and anxiety over the loss of the older Winchester. She knew she should be out there looking for him, helping Sam, Mary and Bobby. She wasn’t sleeping, and when she did she was plagued with dreams of Michael torturing Dean, because that was all she could think about during the day. She snapped at Jack when she overhead him talking to Castiel in the kitchen during one of the few times she left her room for food. As soon as she heard the words “Dean doesn’t matter” leave the nephilim’s lips, she was at his throat.

“How dare you,” she began, her voice low and shaking as the anger pulsated through her veins. “How dare you say that, considering you wouldn’t fucking be here if not for Dean. He’s done nothing but protect you and give you a home, and you go and say he doesn’t matter? That is his body. He is a prisoner in his own body. He’s trapped in there-“

“Y/N-“ Castiel started. Y/N whipped her head around, glowering at the vessel before her.

“NO, Cas. What he said was un-fucking-called for.” She turned back to the nephilim, disappointment and anger evident on her face. “Look, kid. The world would not be the way it is right now if not for Dean fucking Winchester. He may not matter to you, but he sure as hell matters to me.”

Since then, Jack kept his distance. He never saw Y/N as upset as she was in that moment, and he still didn’t understand why she was so mad at him, because in his mind, he was right. Michael was the enemy, Michael needed to go, Dean be damned.

Sam was growing more and more concerned for Y/N as time went on without any sign of Dean. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, having been the one to wake her from her nightmares and stay with her until she drifted back into a restless sleep, if her mind even allowed it.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she mumbled one morning when Sam brought her a mug of tea. “I know you want to be out looking for him.”

“I’m leaving in a little bit, do you want to try and come with me?” She shook her head, her eyes again welling up with tears. How she had any left was beyond her. “Its okay, honey. You should try and rest anyway. You’ve had a rough few weeks-“

“But I’m a hunter, Sam. I know better than to act like this. I should be out there looking for him, he’d do the same if it was me-“

“You may be a hunter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not human, Y/N/N. You still have feelings, emotions, and we both know you have very…specific feelings towards Dean. This wasn’t a hunt gone wrong, Dean is missing and you’re hurting because you love him. What you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, that’s heartbreak. It’s crippling and it’s brutal and until he’s back, it’s not gonna go away.”

“What if he doesn’t come back Sam?” She hated how small her voice sounded, she couldn’t even deny her feelings to his face. At this rate, every additional body in the bunker had to know she was in love with Dean.

“He’s Dean. He’s died, been dragged to hell…he’s not gonna let some dick angel keep him away from us.” Y/N nodded weakly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Sam-“

“You have to tell him, Y/N. He has a right to know, he needs to know, maybe then he’d stop sacrificing himself-“

“Your brother wouldn’t know what to do with himself-“

“True, but he’d be happy, with you. He adores you. He deserves to be happy.” Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyebrows cocked. “You know I’m right.”

“We’ll see.”

Sam sighed, pecking her forehead before getting off the bed. “I’m gonna head out, you need anything, you call, yes?” She nodded. “Be good, no yelling at any nephilims today.”

“He deserved it-“

“I know.”

One of the things Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to was the amount of people now residing in the bunker since coming from the other world. She missed the peace and quiet, but she was extra thankful that her bedroom, like Dean’s, was tucked away from the action. Sure, the bunker was large enough to accommodate the newcomers, and they were all quickly catching on as new hunters, but she longed for the days when the bunker was more of a secret hideaway, not a community center.

In the time Dean was gone, Y/N treated his room like the West Wing. She made sure no one besides herself or Sam ever went in, on the days she got out of bed anyway. Her room was down the hall from his, and since the hallway was generally empty, she could immediately hear when someone was entering his room. The door had a slight creak when it pushed open slowly enough, but Dean insisted he liked it. It sounded “homey.” So when she heard that familiar creak and knew Sam wasn’t home yet, her body was out of her bed and moving down the hall before her mind could register she was even upright. Her feet carried her to the door with the pretty golden eleven, finding it open. She felt her blood run cold as she stepped over the threshold of the room, ready to deliver a verbal beating to whoever dared enter this room of all rooms, before her breath hitched in her chest and she found herself staring at the back of the man she was waiting for.

“D-Dean?”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of her voice and he turned around, his olive eyes welling up with tears as he took in the sight of her. She was clutching the doorway, her body swimming in his red flannel, dark circles under her pretty eyes as she choked out a sob upon seeing him before her.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, opening his arms as she flung herself forward, crashing against his chest. Her body again shook with sobs as she clutched at the white dress shirt adorning his shoulders, her face buried into the middle of his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he struggled between squeezing her against him and holding her fragile body against his own. Her sobs were muffled screams and he cringed, hating that once again he was the reason she was breaking this badly. He finally allowed his tears to flow and soon he was crying into her hair while trying to calm her down.

“You miss me?” He asked some moments later once her breathing returned to normal and her body stopped shaking.

“No,” she weakly deadpanned, still morphed into his chest. His fingers danced up and down her spine in gentle patterns as he chuckled, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he just…left.”

“He better fucking stay gone,” she growled, “or at least find a new vessel. Got a few ideas.” Dean laughed softly and she pulled back to look up at him, raising her eyebrows. “You think I’m joking?”

“No ma’am.” 

She glared at the term, her eyes growing wide. “Why didn’t Sam call me to tell me he found you?”

“Surprise?” He grinned sheepishly. “He said you were probably resting and didn’t want to wake you. He…he told me how you’ve been the last few weeks and sweetheart, I’m not upset. I’m upset at how much of a toll this took on you but I’m not upset that you weren’t looking for me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I wanted to-“

“I know, Y/N. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I understand. You were struggling, I couldn’t expect you to push yourself.”

She looked down, still feeling embarrassed over the situation. “I’m sorry for barging in, too. I thought someone was in here that wasn’t you and I got so upset-“

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “I half expected you to be in here waiting for me.”

She blushed and Dean grinned, hugging her to him again. “You probably want some alone time, I should let you get settled in but I really don’t feel like leaving your side at the moment.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and I’ll be right back, okay? Promise.” His green eyes were boring into her own, his words serious as the rolled off his tongue. She nodded and he smiled gently, kissing her head again before grabbing his clothes and heading down the hall towards the large communal bathroom.

While Y/N waited, Dean let the hot water run down his tired body, scrubbing his skin raw as he tried to get any trace of the Archangel off of him. He didn’t understand why Michael suddenly left the way he did, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up that he had seen the last of the celestial being. He stood under the water as his own tears of frustration fell from his eyes. He was angry that he was taken advantage of, tricked into being the vessel for more than he bargained for. He hated feeling like a prisoner in his own body, own mind, not knowing exactly what was going on around him as Michael took control. He missed his brother, his girl, even if she wasn’t officially his. Y/N was everything to him, and after some convincing on his part, Sam revealed that he was everything to her as well. It happened on the drive home when he realized she wasn’t with Sam, and he immediately panicked thinking something had happened to her.

“She’s at the bunker, Dean. She…she hasn’t been doing well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” He breathed, his body going rigged on the passenger’s side of the bench seat.

“She’s just been taking your…disappearance the hardest out of everyone. She doesn’t sleep, she barely eats, she bit Jack’s head off.”

“What did he do?” Sam didn’t want to repeat the words Jack had uttered, because in truth, they pissed him off as well. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words and cause Dean more hurt, he carried enough pain already.

“He said something she didn’t like, honestly he deserved it. She was defending you.” Dean blushed softly, picturing Y/N turning into the spitfire she could be, all because of him. “You know Dean…”

Dean looked at his brother, confused, “Sammy?”

“I shouldn’t,” Sam stopped himself, knowing he was about to break Y/N’s trust.

“You already started.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Y/N.”

“I won’t say anything, just tell me.”

“She…the reason she was so bad the last few weeks, is because she loves you. Has feelings for you. And you being gone, not knowing where you were, it visibly was destroying her.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up in his chest. “She can’t-“

“Why not? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you, man? She looks at you like you hung the damn moon for her.”

Dean shook his head. “Loving me comes with a price, one she shouldn’t have to pay. It puts a target on her back and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Dean, it’s pretty obvious you feel the same way she does, you’re being ridiculous. She makes you happy, man. You deserve something good, and Y/N is good.”

Dean wasn’t going to act on this new information, not until he knew Michael was done with him, for good. He couldn’t stomach Y/N hurting over him anymore. Once he knew Michael didn’t have a use for him any longer, he could approach her about the mutual feelings between them. Of course Dean reciprocated them. How could he not? Y/N was beautiful, funny, intelligent. She was everything he could hope for, plopped into his life all those years ago. He raised her to be the third best hunter in the world. She was perfect for him, but he couldn’t put her in danger by simply loving her back.

For a little while, things seemed to be looking up, which was consequently never a good sign when it came to the Winchesters. Just when they thought Michael was possibly out of their lives, he snuck back in and invaded Dean’s personal space all over again. With help from Sam, Y/N and Cas, he was able to take control and lock Michael away in his mind. The problem was, Dean felt like there was a toddler banging on a drum set living in his head. Michael was constantly making a racket, leaving Dean with a perpetual headache while he tried to block out Michael’s incessant demands to be let out of the “cage” Dean locked him away in. It was during this time that Dean made the painful decision to never act on his feelings for Y/N. He wasn’t sure how long he’d survive with Michael taking up residency in his mind, nor did he have any way of knowing that Michael wouldn’t hurt her. 

Sam and Y/N became suspicious when Dean decided he wanted to visit Mary, alone. Since being back, Dean rarely had alone time, though if he was being honest, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he welcomed the company. Company kept his mind off the tenant upstairs. He spent most of his time resting before Sam decided he could go back out on hunts, and resting usually meant cuddling with Y/N and watching copious amount of Netflix. He was struggling, but he wanted to make sure she was okay as well.

Y/N was reluctant to let Dean go visit Mary alone. When she expressed her concerns for the older Winchester to Sam, Sam agreed that something wasn’t right and the pair decided to make their own drive to Donna’s cabin. 

Which is how Sam and Y/N found themselves standing across from Dean in Donna’s shed, an ominous metal coffin of sorts on the workbench before them.

“What the hell is this?” Y/N asked, her eyes fixed on Dean.

“This is how I’m going to get rid of Michael,” Dean explained, failing to make eye contact in return.

“This isn’t what I think it is,” Sam glowered, beginning to understand what his brother was getting at.

“Someone better explain what the hell this is,” Y/N urged, agitated.

“This is a Ma’lak Box,” Dean began, Sam sighing in anger. “It’s warded to keep an angel inside…including an Archangel.”

“Okay…so how are you gonna get Michael into the box?” Y/N asked, oblivious to the elephant that was in the shed.

“Michael is…inside me. In order to get Michael into the box, I have to get in,” Dean muttered.

“NO!”

“Its the only way-“ 

“BULLSHIT. There is ALWAYS another way!”

“NO THERE ISN’T,” Dean yelled back, “I can feel him breaking free. I can’t hold him much longer, this is the only way, Billie showed me-“

“Dean, we can figure this out. There has to be something else,” Sam tried to reason with his brother. “What happens when you’re in?”

“The plan is to be dropped into the Pacific and buried-“

“The fuck you will,” Y/N seethed. “NO. You’re not doing this.”

“This is why I didn’t tell either of you, you’re the only ones who could try and talk me out of it.”

“So you were just going to disappear again? Be buried alive without a goodbye? Expect us to be okay with this?” Sam was amazed at how dense Dean could be sometimes.

“I said my goodbyes back at the bunker,” Dean sighed. Y/N was staring at him in horror, still trying to process that once again, she’d be losing Dean, but this time for good. Dean looked at her and cringed. “Please say something.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” she fumed. “You’re so hellbent on sacrificing your own life for the greater fucking good because you’re convinced your life doesn’t mean anything. Well guess what! Your life may not mean something to you but it means everything to me. You don’t have to do this, we can find another way. Fuck what Billie has to say, there is no way this ends with you buried at the bottom of the fucking ocean.”

“I have to do this-“

“No, you don’t,” Sam argued. “We can find something else Dean, anything else, something that keeps you alive, with us.”

“Do you think I want to do this? To either of you? I HAVE to do this. I don’t have a choice-“

“YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT,” Y/N screamed, the anger simmering under her skin.

“Look, I’m not exactly looking forward to this, okay? I’ve made up my mind, you both need to accept it.”

“We…we have to accept it? Accept that you’re going to be buried in this…this box…with a murderous archangel hitching a ride in your head? Are you out of your mind?” Y/N was amazed at how Dean was so calm about this. “You expect Sam to just let you go? I clearly don’t mean enough to you for you NOT to do this but at least think of your brother.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dean groaned.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she spat, rolling her eyes.

“This won’t solve anything,” Sam barked, shooting a glare to both of them. “You’re not getting in the box, we’ll figure something else out but right now, this discussion is over.”

“You think this is up for debate, Sammy? It’s not-“

“I said, this discussion is over. We will have this conversation when we get home, when we can get Jack and Cas’ input-“

“Oh yeah, let’s clue the nephilim in to the plan,” Y/N snarled, “after all, Dean matters oh so much to him anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Dean glared.

“Forget it,” she mumbled, “I need some air.” She turned on her heel and left the shed, the sight of the box now making her stomach turn. She made her way back to the cabin, hiding around the back out of sight before she allowed herself to slide down the wall into a fit of angry tears. Dean was going to leave her, again, and this time he couldn’t come back. How was she ever going to live with that? Knowing he was at the bottom of the ocean, alone in a box with an Archangel to torment him for the rest of his days? How could she possibly move on from that?

Back in the shed, Sam was pacing. “You’re not doing this,” he decided, pausing his movements to look at his brother. “You can’t do this. Not to me, not to her, not to Mom-“

“I’m doing it to protect you, all of you,” Dean argued. “If I lock Michael away, he can’t hurt any of you or cause more damage to anyone else.”

“This will kill her,” Sam warned, his voice quieter now. “Dean, you can’t-“

“This is what’s best. This is my decision and I’m sticking to it.”

Y/N decided against the wall of Donna’s cabin that she was done. She reached the end of her rope, her patience run bone dry. If Dean wasn’t going to listen to any voices of reason, she was going to make damn sure she would be okay. She could ask Rowena for a spell, something to make her forget she ever loved Dean Winchester. She refused to be a broken shell all over again because he left her, this time willingly. She would take care of herself the way he taught her to.

She emerged from behind the cabin to find the brothers walking out of the shed, Sam looking visibly distraught as he watched Dean head towards the cabin. Dean’s gaze fell on her but she refused to meet his eyes. If she was going to take care of herself, step one was creating distance, putting an end to the bond between them. Dean moved to walk towards her and she stepped back, eyes still on anything but him.  He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling before he straightened up again, refusing to show any weakness over his decision.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Y/N wasn’t speaking to either brother, but if she had to, she spoke to Sam. Dean was trying to ignore how hurt he was, but he had to remind himself that this was for the best. He thought she could understand that.

A few days went by and Y/N was avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. When Sam received word of Donatello, she decided to hang back and make sure the new hunters had a leader while the brothers were out taking care of business. Sam didn’t argue with her, knowing she needed her space from his brother.

When they arrived back in the safety of the bunker, days later, Y/N retreated to her room, going through her things and removing anything of Dean’s from her drawers. She wanted to do it when they first got back from the cabin retreat, but her body physically wouldn’t let her, not yet. Any flannels, shirts, anything she ever wore of his was going back to his room. She didn’t want anything of his around to remind her of him later. She carried the few shirts to his room, barging in and dumping them on his bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the pile before him.

“Don’t want them anymore. They’ll just remind me of you when you’re gone, you know, buried and all.”

Dean winced at her words. Reality was starting to sink in, that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea, not if it meant a rift between him and his best girl. “Y/N please, we need to talk about this-“

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“I can’t have you hating me, sweetheart. I can’t lose you, not yet. The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me-“

“Don’t you dare fucking say that to me,” she whispered, sounding much less menacing than she wanted to. “Not when I’m the one constantly losing you.” Dean felt his heart break in his chest as he looked at her, seeing all the pain he’d caused her evident on her pretty face. “And I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” She looked down at the floor, staring at the marbled tile beneath her feet. “Maybe this is my fault-“

“Y/N no, how-“

“Maybe if I told you the truth you’d change your mind. Told you I loved you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe then you’d want to stay and find another way.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you do.”

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushing. “You what?”

“I know how you feel about me,” he murmured. “Sam…I forced it out of him when we drove home after he found me. He was so worried about you and he started to let it slip but I forced him to tell me.”

“So…so you know…that…and you still want to…” her voice trailed off, her words failing her as she stared helplessly at him. 

“I was doing it because of that.” He watched her cringe before he realized his mistake. “Oh God, not like that! I mean, I was doing it because I love you, just as much, but I need to protect you from Michael. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything about this…us…until he was gone, but I don’t know when that will be or if it ever will be. I can’t let you get hurt because of me, not like this. I can’t put that target on you.”

“Dean…I know you think it’s your life’s mission to protect everyone, because John gave you that order to protect Sam, but sacrificing yourself? He’d also want you to live, Dean. You deserve everything good this fucked up world has to offer, Dean Winchester. You think your life means so much less than anyone else’s but that’s not true. You’re so important, Dean. Sam and I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve saved so many lives, changed so many lives. You think you’re this monster of a man who doesn’t deserve happiness when that’s all you’ve ever deserved. You’ve spent your entire life caring for everyone else and making sure everyone else was okay, but right now, you’re not okay, and you need to let me and Sam take care of you. Let us help you find another way, please Dean.” By now tears were rolling down her cheeks the same way they were rolling down Dean’s. “I have watched you overcome and survive incredible feats. I’ve admired your courage and your strength for as long as I can remember. Please don’t stop fighting now, not yet. You have so much more left to do in this world, Dean. Some dick angel from another world is not going to be how I lose you. The world is better with you in it, MY world is better with you in it.”

Dean’s silent tears turned to choked out sobs as he took in her words. This wasn’t the first time she had to remind him of the good in him, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Sam had already gotten to him before they drove home and made him see that there could be another way, that he couldn’t give up, that wasn’t what the Winchesters did. 

“Oh Dean,” she whispered, enveloping him in her arms as he cried, his face buried against her shoulder. She rubbed his back softly as she cried with him, his arms wrapping around her tightly, scared of letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry you’re constantly getting hurt by me-“

“No. It is not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m not doing it,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Sammy…he helped me see how wrong I was…and you…I can’t leave you. Not like that. I love you so much, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for putting you through that-“

“Dean Winchester, if you ever try to pull something like that again…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m so sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“How?” She asked, Dean lifting his head from her shoulder.

“I don’t know, but I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring it out.”

Y/N blushed, fighting the grin that was spreading across her lips. “You could start with a kiss.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he chuckled, cupping her cheeks in his hand and wiping the remaining tear drops away with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes, watching the way they sparkled as they stared back into his own. He smiled, leaning down to softly connect his lips with hers. She all but cried as she moved her lips with his, her arms wrapping back around his middle.

“Sammy was right,” he chuckled once he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“About what?”

Dean smirked, “You really do look at me like I hung the moon.”

“Oh bite me, Winchester.”

#MakeMeSwoon #Sabrina's 250 Followers Writing Challenge #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural flangst #dean flangst #dean fluff #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester flangst

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Stranger

Betrayal

Summary - Dean Winchester rescues you from the Djinn. Some hard truths are learnt when you wake up and find him arguing with his brother.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings - Fluff-ish, Angst, too much angst, Swearing, Verbal Altercation.

Word Count - 2.1k+

Square filled - Domestic!AU ( @spndeanbingo )

A/N - Thanks to @miss-nerd95 for giving this a once over because I was nervous that it got too dramatic (damn you Bollywood)

This is also a submission for @winchesterxfamilybusiness' Make Me Swoon Challenge. Prompt is in bold.

Series Masterlist

“Are you sure this will work?” Dean hesitated.

“Well, we gotta try and we have to hurry. Clock’s ticking,” Sam said, as Dean swallowed the herb.

Five hours. That's how long you were unconscious. Dean had carried you back to your room, placing you gingerly on the bed. His heart clenched at the sight. You were home, but this was not how Dean wanted things to go. He had pushed you away in hopes you will be safe from the supernatural but the universe had other plans.

Dean wouldn't admit, but he was terrified at the thoughts of invading your dreams. ‘What was your happily ever after?’ That question was haunting him. The Djinn always lets you see your heart's desire and Dean was scared to find out the answer to that, but he had to take the step because this was the only way you could be saved.

Sam had agreed to take the African dream root, but the older Winchester had stepped in, saying, “She's in that state because of me. Let me take those.”

The herbs worked their magic and soon he found himself in your dream.

“Happy birthday, baby,” your husband wrapped his arms around you, “I have plans for tonight.”

“What about the kids?”

“I have asked your Mom. She will take them for one night. The kids are excited to spend time with their Mee-maw and Paw-paw,” Dean said.

“Hm, I see you have planned everything,” You smirked.

“Uh-huh. Down to every last detail. Even the things I will do to you in bed tonight,” Dean’s eyes darkened at the thought, “I bet you never got such a gift. You won't be able to walk properly for weeks.”

“I may or may not have a return gift planned for you too,” you winked, “something I bought from the Victoria Secret.”

“Fuck me,” Dean breathed out.

“Gladly,” you said, “but you gotta wait till tonight.” You gently patted his chest and walked over to the kids’ room to get them ready for the evening, unbeknownst to the fact that the real world Dean Winchester was watching the whole interaction with wide eyes, heart breaking into a million pieces.

“Y/N,” you saw your husband jogging up to you, with horror in his eyes.

“What? Baby, you okay?” You asked, your movements coming to a halt. Dean's breath hitched as he heard you call him ‘baby’. “Okay honey, you're scaring me. What's wrong?”

“This-this is not real Y/N,” Dean said.

“What?” You chuckled.

“This is all a dream. You need to snap out of it,” Dean insisted.

“What is this? Some kind of stupid prank?” You crossed your arms, “I gotta go check on the kids honey.”

“Kids?” He frowned.

“Yeah right, Mister. What, next you're gonna ask me if we are married or not?” You said, clearly getting annoyed.

“Marr-wha-no….Y/N, y-you don't understand. This is a dream. Y/N/N, you are dreaming! You don't have any….kids.”

“Dean Winchester, don't you dare say that,” you crossed your arm and gave him a once over.

“Sweetheart, you gotta believe me! I know this all seems a bit strange but your husb-that Dean i-is not real. He is just a figment of your imagination. I-I'm real,” he pleaded.

“Did you hit your head somewhere, honey?” You were now genuinely concerned about him.

He shook his head and grabbed your hands, dragging you back to the kitchen. You cocked your head in confusion as you kept looking at Dean rummaging through the closet.

“Dean! If you dare to mess up my kitchen, I'm gonna kill you,” you warned. He looked at you and grabbed a knife and made his way towards you. “Dean? Babe, what is it?” You asked with the frown on your face deepening at his actions.

“See, I-I can show you this is not real,” he said and stabbed himself in the chest

“Stop it Dean!” You gasped in horror, “Wha-”

“I'm not dead! I am not even bleeding. Look at this,” Dean exclaimed. You looked down to see the knife sticking out of his chest but he was alive and there was no blood.

“What? I-I don't understand. This is not-all this while I-I've been dreamin’. But it all felt so real. How can this be….De, what's happening?” You were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Sweetheart, listen to me carefully. You are in a Djinn-poison induced dream state. They mess with your head. I know; I've been there.”

“Djinn?”

“I'll explain everything but first you need to wake up, Y/N/N,” Dean begged.

“How?” You cried out.

“You need to kill yourself,” he said.

“What?”

“Yes. If you kill yourself in your dreams, you will wake up. Now come on,” he said and handed you the knife.

“You sure?”

“Do you trust me?,” he asked you.

You were frightened and confused but you believed Dean. Nodding your head at him, you took the knife and looked at Dean one more time.

“It's gonna be fine. Trust me, sweetheart.”

Your heart was beating loudly against your chest as you tightened the hold on the knife. You sucked in a breath as you stabbed yourself in the stomach.

Gasping loudly, you sat up straight in the bed.

“Y/N,” your eyes met with Dean’s worried green ones.

“Dean?” You asked, your head filled with various questions. Dean pulled you into a tight hug.

“I-I thought I lost you sweetheart,” he croaked, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“It's okay. I'm here,” you looked around, “where am I?”

“In the bunker,” another tall man came into the room and said.

“Who-who are you?” You asked, as Dean let you go, “I-I'm so confused. What happened? Dean, how did you-I was….was I married?”

“Y/N you….uh-you were attacked by a Djinn. They are supernatural beings and we hunt them,” Dean said, “you were in a dream state and you dreamt of things like….m-marriage and uh-kids. Djinns usually show you your heart's desire.”

“Are you kidding me? You hunt them? You hunt monsters? What next, are you gonna tell me that Drac is real? And he runs a hotel for freaks in Transylvania?”

“I know it's a lot to take in but it's true, not the Dracula part but me and my brother, Sam, we hunt them. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, everything is real,” Dean said.

“Sam?” You looked at the other man in the room who was staring at you silently.

“Hey,” the man who was standing patiently at the foot of the bed, cracked a smile at you.

“What is this place?” You asked.

“This is the bunker. Our home, workplace, everything,” Sam said, “You also-”

“You should take some rest now,” Dean interrupted his brother, getting a side glance from him.

“S-sure but why didn't you tell me about this the night we met?”

“Our job is not a conventional one. We can't go around, telling everyone that monsters exist,” Sam said, “It's better if people don't know about things like this.”

“Okay,” you looked around the room again, fear seeping into you which faded quickly as Dean placed his warm hand on yours, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“You're safe here, sweetheart,” Dean gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“I never thought I would meet you again.” Your heart fluttering in your chest at his touch.

“Neither did I.”

“Thanks for saving me. Thanks to both of you,” you said, and the brothers smiled at you before stepping out of the room to give you some privacy.

Even though you were living in a dream for the past few hours, you were exhausted so sleep came easy to you.

You didn't know how long you were asleep before you were woken up by some muffled screams coming from outside the room.

Your ears perked up when you heard Dean's voice.

“No I can't!” He yelled.

“You have to tell her, Dean!” The other voice, probably Sam’s yelled back. You winced as you got up from the bed and went out of the room, the voices getting louder and clearer. Your whole body screamed in protest with every step you took.

“I-I can't,” Dean let out a defeated sigh.

‘What are they arguing about?’ You wondered as you finally made your way towards the brothers. The halls of the bunker felt oddly familiar to you.

“Do you think she is safe like this? She is a huntress Dean!” Sam exclaimed, “This-this is her home. She doesn't even remember the bunker! She doesn't remember me!”

“What am I supposed to say?” Dean asked.

“The truth!”

“She won't believe me and telling her the truth means sucking her back to this goddamn stupid life!” Dean shouted at his brother, “And I won't let that happen.”

‘Were they talking about you?’ You wondered and moved closer to the brothers.

“How can you be so selfish, Dean? You are only thinking about yourself! You are not the person I looked up to as my brother!” Sam shoved his brother hard.

“Well people change with time,” Dean said in a bitter tone, “and how is it selfish? I won't let her die because of me.”

“They do, but their feelings remain the same amd you're scared. You still love Y/N and it would be stupid if you let her walk away!” Sam scoffed. Your eyes widened at Sam's words.

“You don't understand,” Dean gritted out.

“At least she will understand!”

“No she won't! She was married in her dream - she had kids; that's her happily ever after! Not with me-”

“She was married to you, Dean!” Sam retorted, “that's her happily ever after - with you. With us, in this bunker. She is family and we don't give up on family then how could you push her away? Don't do anything that you will regret later on. This is probably your last chance to fix the mess.”

“I-I can't. She is gonna hate me. It's better this way. It's not like she remembers being married to me,” Dean mumbled.

You gasped in shock grabbing the attention of the brothers.

“Married?”

“Y/N?” Dean asked.

“I thought I was only married in my dreams but I-we were married?” You asked him.

“I-uh….Y/N you should go re-”

“Don't tell me to go and rest!” You exclaimed. Dean glared at his brother, taking a deep breath.

“Stop running away from the problem for once,” Sam muttered in a low voice but loud enough for his brother to hear him.

“Y/N, you are….we are married,” Dean said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“But I don't remember it. Dean? Sam?” You gulped.

“How can you do this, Dean Winchester?” You asked, your blood boiling in anger.

“I did it to protect you,” Dean calmly stated.

“Great fucking job with that because last time I checked I was almost monster food!” You shouted.

“You don't understand!” Dean retorted.

“Then make me, asshole!”

“You got almost killed, because of me! I almost killed you!” He yelled.

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” You said, as you sat down in the chair, trying to wrap your mind around the new facts you just learnt. You were married to Dean Winchester. You were a huntress. Then what about your friends, your job, your life in Idaho? What was true? You didn't know what to believe.

“Y/N, sweetheart, say something. Please.” Dean begged.

“I'm not your sweetheart, Dean. You lost the right to call me yours the moment you took a life-changing decision for me and pushed me away,” you said, tears forming in your eyes.

“I-I….I did it to protect you. You mean everything to me,” Dean said.

“Then why did you push me away? Why did you erase my memories? We could have dealt with this together. Why, Dean, why? I can't even hunt anymore! I don't even remember the basic ways to protect myself. You made me helpless. Tell me Dean, how did you protect me?” You asked. Dean kept quiet.

“Y/N, maybe we can fix it. Maybe Cas can fix it,” Sam said, who all the while stood in the war room as a silent observer.

You scoffed, “I don't-I don't even remember Cas. Great job, Dean! Great fucking job! You think you are so great, trying to protect me, but all you are a selfish asshole. You destroyed my life, Dean. Destroyed it! Congratulations, Winchester!”

“I thought-”

“From next time, don't think because your thoughts always destroy something good just like it destroyed us!” You were angry and sad. You couldn't believe Dean could do such a thing.

“I loved you, Y/N, I still do and I-”

“Well newsflash Dean, I don't love you anymore,” you scoffed, “Because in case you didn't know, I don't even remember us - what we used to be.” Turning on your heels, you went back to your room, leaving behind a heartbroken Dean Winchester.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!

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[dawnie1988]

Summary: So many thoughts can crop up when one is trying to make an important decision. For Birdie, it’s bringing up all the regrets she has in regards to the way she has chosen to live her life. Or, in which fear and complacency can be a slippery, downward slope.

Words: 4,656 

Pairings: Platonic Dean x OFC (not actually named after sir jensen’s pup, just a name i’ve always liked)

Tags: Angst, One Sided Pining, Pity Parties and More Taylor Swift Song References Than Would Have Been Deemed Necessary

A/N: This is my entry for Sabrina’s - @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ - Make Me Swoon 250 Followers Writing Challenge. I can say with much certainty there will be no swooning going on here though. My prompt was:  “If I knew it was going to hurt this much I wish I never laid eyes on him.”

Big, big thanks and love to the ever amazing @there-must-be-a-lock​ for taking the time to go over this and doing some big time beta work, not only saving any potential readers a nightmare load of grammar errors but also for the many helpful tips and suggestions along the way and helping to shape this into a more manageable and thought out piece. Seriously, this thing was nearly 10,000 words of nonsense before she started dusting her magic over it. You’re incredible, and I adore you 😘

=======

Athens, Ohio - 2011

- can i come by?

The text had come in about an hour ago, just as Birdie was ushering the last patron out for the night. She didn’t have the time - or the emotional strength - to deal with it at the moment, so she did what she did best: ignored it.

She took her time wiping down the counters and table tops, washing out all the glasses and drying them with care. She stacked all the chairs on top of the tables, took out the garbage and emptied out the cash tills, counting and recording that night’s take. She finished up her nightly routine by double checking that all doors and windows were locked and secured before turning off the lights and making her way up the old creaky staircase to her loft above the bar.

After allowing herself several moments in the shower to wash the day off, Birdie slid into some soft sweats and an old Mickey Mouse sleep shirt. She grabbed an apple to munch on, as well as the stack of papers. She needed to make a decision, and was quickly running out of time to do so. 

She settled into her favorite overstuffed chair by the window that overlooked the city, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, before skimming through the contract in her hands for what felt like the hundredth time.

A month ago, a lawyer had come into the place (Jacob something or another the Third) inquiring about buying the bar from her. He worked for some mid size fast food chain that was looking to expand. She had scoffed at the idea in the beginning, told him she wasn’t interested, but he was a persistent little weasel, that was for sure. He kept in touch and eventually got her to the stage of accepting the very contract she held in her hands to look over. 

It was a fair offer. In fact, it was more than fair, which had made her leery at first that she was getting screwed somewhere. But she had visited three separate lawyers, and after combing through it, they all agreed there were no secret loopholes, just a company who badly wanted a specific location and were willing to pay extra to get it.

Jacob what’s-his-name would eventually call back, giving her a whole speech about how he could appreciate what a tough decision this must all be for her, but that they would need an answer by the end of the month or else the company would officially be withdrawing their offer.

She had two days left and was nowhere closer to a final answer than she was when he first brought the proposition to her. Every time she felt like she was leaning one way, a new thought would crop up that would have her tilting the other way. On the one hand, this was a lot of money they were talking about. If she wasn’t responsible for this place any more, maybe she could finally take a chance on the little flower boutique she had silently dreamed about owning since she was a teenager. Every time she started thinking like that though, she would immediately start spiraling down the rabbit hole of how this bar was her home.

Except… was it really? Was it honestly her home, or just a place where she worked and lived? How much of it all was just the obligation she felt to her Uncle to keep the place going?

It was never meant to be a permanent thing. She had just graduated college with her MBA, the only thing she ever did in her life that she was truly proud of, the only thing that required hard work that she ever stuck through and completed. The courses were grueling, but she pushed through, mostly motivated by her father insisting she’d never last. Well, she had shown him. 

She refused to end up like him; it was what fueled her through it all. Her dad had gone bankrupt three times, every time he tried, and ultimately failed, at a new business venture. 

And not only did she complete the courses and graduate, but she ended up Valedictorian of her class at Ohio University.

She had been undecided on where she wanted to work afterwards, still riding the high of actually earning her degree and halfheartedly submitting résumés just for the hell of it and to get some feelers out. It was her Uncle Grant who stepped in to help out while she worked on getting a real game plan together.

He was the original owner of this bar, a decent sized roadside style place in the city. From the outside it wasn’t the kind of place that really grabbed your attention, but it always supported a large gathering of misfits. 

The deal was pretty simple in nature. He was sixty-one, with two bum knees from a nasty motorcycle accident five years prior. It should have killed him and almost did. It was getting increasingly harder for him to take care of the place, despite his little staff of two, and retirement was looking more and more like a better idea. But he was dead set against the idea of selling the place. So, he presented her with the prospect of taking over the majority of the office and business side of things.

“Put that fancy degree of yours to good use.”

That’s what he had said. And of course he would need her to pitch in with the more physical, daily tasks that came with running the place. For that, she could stay in the small loft above the bar. Plus he even supplied her with a small salary, just enough that she could take care of necessities. All under the table, of course. He was very against mixing family and taxes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her by until she moved onto her next phase in life. 

It was a pretty sweet deal. What was not to like?

Except, her next phase of life never really came.

She found more and more things that she quite enjoyed about running the bar. The mundane practices were almost like a form of meditation for her: preparing things every morning to be ready to open by 4:00pm, and tedious office work. It lulled her into a sense of security, that one thing she always needed to have in her life in order to function like a real adult. Sure, her Uncle’s name was still on everything, but for all intents and purposes the place was hers. And when he died in 2007 from liver failure, it became hers entirely. She never knew he had a will, let alone that he intended to leave the place to her. 

It was now her name on the lease, and her responsibility to make every call and decision.

She never meant to stay forever, but she became seduced by the comfort of knowing what to expect. Year after year passed and it became easier to stay with the known than to venture out, to try something new just to fail, to crash and burn. Then she’d have to come crawling back to all the jeers about Miss Smarty Pants thinking she was too good to stay here.

Birdie took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before blowing it out slowly, trying to calm her racing mind. As her thoughts started wandering in circles again, so did her eyes as they landed on her phone she had tossed on the side table when she first came up.

- can i come by?

Such a simple sounding question. It should have an equally simple yes or no answer, but it wasn’t simple. Nothing about Dean Winchester — about her and Dean Winchester, to be precise — was simple. 

Their history began nearly ten years ago and all the dirty, dark secrets she had learned about him since only complicated things more.

She was still just getting her feet wet working for her Uncle when this boy came strutting into the place: young, oh so tall, with a pair of enchanting jade green eyes, a smile she was sure could charm the pants off of just about anybody, and a whole lot of arrogance. 

The cocksure attitude, like the world was his oyster, was enough to keep her from transforming into a drooling, giddy mess. She managed to ask him his order without making a fool of herself.

There was some minor chit chat while she fetched his first beer of the night. She had definitely never seen him around before so she hit him with her standard ‘coming or going? business or pleasure?’ questions. It would take years for her to peel back the many layers that made up one Dean Winchester and learn the true nature of his illustrious family business and what he actually did for a living.

They kept in touch through it all, good, bad, and the ugly, and he was her truest constant in life, after the bar of course. It was during his last visit, however, that things changed drastically and for the worse. At a time when he needed a friend the most, she had ruined it by putting him in jail for something he didn’t do. All because of her history of backing out.

=======

2010

Birdie was awoken in the middle of the night by the all too familiar rumble of the Impala. Groggily, she stumbled out of bed and over to the window to take a peek outside. She was already making her way downstairs when his first knock came, so much softer than usual. The moment she unlocked and opened the door and got her first good look at him, even bathed in the night’s shadows, she could see how utterly broken he looked, how close he was to cracking.

In that moment she just knew. He didn’t need to speak a single word.

They had finally won the war, on their own terms, but it had cost them dearly. It had cost him Sam and she didn’t know how, or if, he ever would be able to recover from it.

She grabbed his hand gently and pulled him in before relocking the door. As she turned back around she saw that he was still just standing there, at a loss. With a hand on his back, she guided him over to the bar where she fully enabled him to drink his sorrows down. Or try to numb them up some, at the very least. 

One of the very first things Birdie had ever learned about him was that he wasn’t the fondest of talking out his feelings, and it was always best not to push and just to let him open up on his own time. So she didn’t try to talk him through things, didn’t try to recite lovely sounding messages of time will heal and Sam was in a beautiful, peaceful place now, that he had single handedly raised the world’s greatest hero never known. She just continued to let him drink in peace and kept a hold of his hand. And when she reached the point that she could no longer refrain from hugging him, she allowed him to hold onto her like a lifeline, even when it felt like she could feel every bit of his broken heart in that crushing hold.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered the soft apology several times, alternating between kissing his temple and running gentle fingers through his hair. His grip tightened every time the words passed her lips.

She eventually got him dragged up to her loft with her.He lay down while she settled in behind him, playing the role of big spoon, continuing to hold him as tightly as she could, as he ultimately gave in to his tears and anguish. He held her left hand tightly in his own over his heart and she placed her forehead between his shoulder blades, silently crying along with him.

As morning came around, when they finally decided their grumbling tummies needed to be attended to, he held her in place a moment longer, bringing their still joined hands up to his lips to breathe a kiss over her knuckles before releasing it.

It was a quiet affair, their usual eggs, bacon, toast and coffee combo being picked at and pushed around by both, forcing small bites down here and there. 

“So,” Birdie ventured out hesitantly. “What…what now?”

She gave a wince at how casual the words came out, but it went unnoticed by Dean as he was still staring intently at his plate.

After several moments of near suffocating silence for Birdie, he finally answered.

“Gonna head to Lisa’s.”

Birdie suddenly felt like time had frozen. 

“…Lisa?”

“Yeah, the one with the kid I told you about before. In Michigan.”

There was nothing but silence for a few moments. Dean finally looked up at Birdie to see the slack-jawed expression on her face.

His own face drew up in confusion. “What?”

She tried to get her mouth working, but her tongue felt so heavy now, trying to block the onslaught of words that wanted to come spilling out.

“I…” She paused to clear the forming lump at the back of her throat. “Why are you going there?”

Dean tilted his head slightly and cleared his throat before answering.“Sam.”

Birdie raised a questioning brow, urging him to elaborate, even though he was clearly uncomfortable. She wasn’t feeling very concerned about his comfort level at the moment.

“I…promised Sam that when all this was over, that I’d walk away, try to live a normal life for once.”

It was like the air had been physically pulled from her lungs.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t spending such a painfully raw and intimate night together just for him to hit the road to another woman the moment he had a chance. But then, what did it matter? He wasn’t hers, she certainly wasn’t his, they had never had that sort of relationship or even discussed the possibility of one. She knew it wasn’t fair, to harbor any bad feelings or ill will towards him when she never once tried to divulge the deeper feelings and emotions she had developed towards him over the years. Why should he be blamed for something he never had any knowledge over?

“It ain’t like I got any place else to go.”

That one sentence snapped something inside of her that was long out of her control before she had time to try to reign it in.

“Here!” she all but shouted, slamming her hands down on the counter and actually causing him to flinch. “You idiot, you could have stayed here!”

He held his hands up, almost as if to placate the raging storm of emotions that seemed to be building within her. With his chin dipped down so he could capture her line of sight fully, he slowly asked the one question he was unaware would send everything into a full on tail spin.

“Why would I stay here?”

She threw her hands up in exasperation, “For me!” she let out in what could only be described as a cross between a grunt and a sob. She turned away from him when it all dawned on him and the realization hit. 

Years and years of feelings pushed aside and pining from afar, revealed in two simple words. She wiped angrily at her face when she felt the wet trails beginning to track down her face. “You would stay for me,” she concluded, not able to face him fully in her ultimate admittance.

The ensuing silence was near deafening, the loudest she had ever heard in her life.

Of all the ways for this to have come out in the open, why did it have to come out like this? Every beat of silence, every second that went by that wasn’t filled with the sound of his gravelly voice, was all the confirmation she needed: she had been right to stay silent all these years. 

And yet, there was still that glimmer of hope that had been buried down deep within her. The hope that one day this would happen unexpectedly, except in that version it would be like the movies. He would make some overly grand gesture of kissing her silly before informing her that he was just as crazy about her as she was about him, at which point they would laugh at how stupid they had been for wasting so much time, before vowing to make up for it every day for the rest of their lives together.

But this was no movie. It wasn’t a fairytale in disguise, she wasn’t the princess he would sweep off her feet and lead her up the stairwell, and she would be getting no happily ever after. There was no changing this ending.

“Bird, I…" 

She raised her eyes slightly, watching his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and admiring, even now, how beautiful he looked. The early morning shadows peeking through the covered windows were dancing across his face in a near mesmerizing fashion.

He looked utterly lost again. "I never knew…”

Birdie had to close her eyes against the sting of fresh tears building up, not able to stand the shame and self loathing she could already detect in his voice. He was putting this on himself. Classic Dean. He saw her hurting and instantly took ownership of it. She hated that. She hated that he was blaming himself for the mess she had caused. 

It was bad enough this was happening at all, but how selfish could she be for letting it play out now? After everything he had just lost, she was fulfilling her duty to him as a friend by pulling the rug out from under him, making him feel guilty for something that (by her own design) he knew nothing about? What kind of friend was that? She wasn’t worth any more grief than what he was already dealing with.

“You should go,” she mumbled.

He was running a hand over his face when her words halted his movements completely. "What?”

“You should go,” she sniffed, attempting to gather herself as she busied her hands, getting out the little bowls from under the counter that would later be filled with nuts and pretzels. “You’ve got a pretty decent drive ahead of you,” she continued, as she then stacked up their dirty plates. “If you leave now you should be there in time for dinner without even having to break the speed limit. Maybe you can even find a nice scenic route to help decompress…”

She had nearly made it to the kitchen when he cut off her path, taking the plates from her and placing them out of the way before laying his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place.

“No Birdie, we…we can talk, we should talk, and…”

This time she stopped him by placing a hand over one of his.

“No, Dean, really. You should go. It’s fine.” She did her best to keep her tone light, to smile as best as she could, even though it felt more and more like she was about to crumble. 

He grabbed her chin then, forcing her head up so she would have no choice but to actually look at him. She could see on his face that she was nowhere close to coming off as ‘ok’ and she scolded herself for it, wishing she could be as good as he was when it came to turning off the emotional switch. She looked him in the eye, shrugging it all off with an air of 'what can you do?’.

“It’s fine. Go. Go do something for yourself for once. Take a break big guy, you earned it.” He still looked torn, like he wanted to stay and fix things, or like he felt like he should stay. She gave him a wobbly smile. “Please.”

She gave an internal sigh of relief when she saw the resignation finally color his features. He didn’t try to say anything else; they both knew it was a moot point. Instead he pulled her in close, in one of his patented bear hugs that she always cherished so much. They were always like a cocoon of warmth and safety and everything good. Birdie could physically feel him trying to transfer all of his own feelings through that one hug. To let her know how much he truly loved and cared for her, even if it may not have been in the same vein as her.

When he eventually pulled away, he left a lingering kiss on her forehead before backing away and slowly making his way to the door.

Birdie’s mind whirled the whole time.

Don’t go. Stay with me. Pick me. Turn around.

The closer he got to the door the heavier her chest felt. Could she really just let him leave like this? Why couldn’t she ask him to choose her now? Why couldn’t she ask him to try to make things work with her? Why shouldn’t she?

This is a mistake. Don’t let him go. Don’t let him leave like this.

Just as his hand was on the doorknob, her voice broke out to stop him.

“Dean.”

He turned around, waiting to hear what she had to say. And the words were right there on the tip of her tongue, ready to be let free, when suddenly she thought of Sam. That’s why Dean was doing this, to fulfil some sort of dying wish to his baby brother, and that’s what stopped her. Who was she to try to infringe on something like that?

No one. She was no one.

“…drive safe.”

Something unclear settled in his eyes. He dropped his head momentarily before throwing her a weak smile and walking out the door.

The sound of the Impala’s engine starting and fading away would haunt her for a long time to come.

=======

That had been roughly a year ago. A long, lonely year filled with the occasional call to catch up. Her unintended declaration may not have ruined their friendship, but it certainly changed it. Now here she was, mind bouncing back and forth between the documents in her lap and the phone in her hands, trying to decide what to do. 

But she already knew what she was going to do. There was a part of her, subconsciously, that knew from the very beginning what she would do in regards to both situations. 

She would fold. She always did. 

She always put the bar first and she always put off taking a chance in any aspect of her life. She was a creature of habit. It was simply easier to go the path of least resistance, because the idea of failing or losing something was far too terrifying. She’d rather sleepwalk her way through a life that was comfortable enough than risk not having the security of a roof over her head. She wasn’t brave enough to really take a chance in any area of her life. 

It didn’t make the regret and longing hurt any less, though. 

The worst part of it was that it wasn’t even that hard of a fix. It wasn’t as if she was in her twilight years, too old to start over… not even close. It just always came back to the fact that she was too much of a chickenshit. 

Her parents’ mistakes and failures had ingrained a fear of uncertainty within her, as if it was printed in her very DNA. She knew that was why she clung so desperately to the guaranteed security of Dean’s friendship and why she always bailed at the last minute when it came to taking a chance on her own dreams. She needed that safety net of a sure thing after watching her mom and dad fall without one so many times. 

Plus there was the obligation side of things. That was something Dean had always understood. Even when he would try to encourage her to do something that would truly make her happy, he still empathized with the idea of feeling like you had to stick with and honor your family. They were peas in a pod in that sense. Her uncle had generously given her this place, all so she would be set in life and so he could keep his beloved bar in the family. Wouldn’t it be ungrateful of her to sell it off now herself? To her, it felt like a slap in the face. One she didn’t have the heart to make.

She glanced around her little loft, eyes falling on the corkboard that was filled with postcards Dean had sent her from every city and town he visited. They were all the standard ‘Greetings From..’ type that you could pick up at any local gas station. She tried to imagine not being there and she couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine not hearing that creaky sound of the old stairs as she walked up and down them each day. She couldn’t imagine not being able to observe the vast amount of colorful characters she met while working. It may not have been the life she wanted or would have chosen, but it wasn’t a bad one by any means.

As her uncle would always say, why fix what isn’t broken? 

But maybe it wasn’t about fixing things, maybe it was about enhancing them. Once more her thoughts drifted to Dean. She’d bet he was still up. She wondered if he ever did this: perched himself in a chair somewhere by a window where he could look out over the night sky, thinking about her in some way like she always seemed to be doing. 

Maybe she shouldn’t answer this time. Maybe it was time to give up the ruse of being fine with the way things were. She’d come close once, a drunken night with her mom that loosened her lips just a little too much.

“If I knew it was going to hurt this much I wish I never laid eyes on him.”

That’s what she had said, but as much as Birdie wished it was the case, it simply wasn’t true. She didn’t understand it, how compelling he could be. How his smile could light up your world for a while, how he could make you feel like you were the most important thing when he gave you his undivided attention. How she could tell him absolutely anything, regardless of how silly or stupid she felt about it, and he would still make her feel like the old cardigan that nobody else wanted but that he still appreciated. Or how his very existence made her feel whole, somehow, even if it wasn’t in the way she truly desired. She didn’t understand it, but she knew she needed it as much as she needed this bar.

The sudden beep of a new message alert brought her back to the real world. She lifted her phone again to look at the screen.

- Bird, please

He rarely called her Bird. 

She had learned over the years it was like a safe word of sorts for him. If he called her Bird, it was his way of sending out the S.O.S and asking for help. It meant he really needed her. And wasn’t that what friends were for? Wasn’t that what she had been telling him for ten years now? If he ever needed anything, just call.

This was him calling.

Birdie rose from her chair and headed to her dining area, tossing the contract in the garbage bin before typing out a quick message.

- i’ll leave the light on for ya

#make me swoon #sabrina's 250 followers writing challenge #supernatural fanfiction #dean x ofc #platonic relationships #angst #one sided pining #life regrets #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #an easter egg hunt of taylor swift song references #obligation is a dirty word

[kickingitwithkirk]

Red Sunflowers

Summary: Jensen has fallen for his best friend’s best friend. A long buried scandal jeopardizes their friendship and his feelings.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Wife!Reader (Ginger)

For: @winchesterxfamilybusiness

#MakeMeSwoon #Sabrina’s 250 followers writing challenge

Word Count: 3480

Warnings: cursing, angry Jensen, rumors, gossip, talk of harassment/male, talk about foster homes, breast cancer diagnosis & treatment.

Prompt: “The guy at the bar keeps staring at you” in bold

A/N: I have absolutely no idea how I came up with this one. Hope it makes sense due to some last minute rewriting and editing.

A/N II: Ginger got nickname from Jared

A/N III: I’m not sure if Chilliwack has sunflower fields so I incorporated some elements from the local pumpkin farm I go to.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

*photo found online

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Now:

Ginger

“The guy at the bar keeps staring at you.” Jensen growls between clenched teeth as he stares over my shoulder.

I turned towards the coffeehouse’s bar area not seeing anyone until I gazed in the mirror running its length finally spotting a man watching us intensely in it. I notice his cell phone casually tucked under his arm recording us, it’s what incited Jen’s reaction.

Sam Smith’s recurrence of breast cancer had renewed interest in me too. Several years ago after my diagnosis and treatment of stage 1A breast cancer, I had chosen not to go public. Jen and I have always tried to live as normally as possible in our fishbowl.

Turning back, I find Dean Winchester about to slip his chain. Fuck, I can’t let this escalate, I’ve gotta distract Jensen before he does something stupid that goes viral again.

“Oooh baby, Dean coming out to play makes me so..mmmm” I start moaning, “…oooh god,” I run my hand through my hair, “…oh yeah, right there,” running my hand down my throat and over my chest, “right there.. ooh..*gasps*, oh..oh god!” I toss my head, my hair flipping as my hands bang on the table, ”Yes! Yes! Yesss… ooooo..Yes!!!” I release a loud, wailing noise signaling my climax and slide down a bit in the seat softly moaning.

Taking a deep breath I sat upright smiling at my husband, pick up my teacup and take a sip as Jensen stares at me, the blush crawling up to the cinnamon freckled tips of his elfin ears.

The barista comes over nervously glancing at me, “Is everything alright?”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Jensen says deadpan.

People around us burst out laughing, catching on to our When Harry met Sally moment.

After all these years of everything we’ve been through, my outlandish antics still make him blush and I’m grateful knowing that part of our relationship will never change.

Jensen’s expression morphs into one of absolute adoration for his obviously brilliant wife. He takes my hand, turning it over kisses my palm before holding it against his cheek making me wish he still had his sexy hiatus beard.

“So, you gonna let these assbutts ruin our day or can you ignore them long enough to take me to Chilliwack?”

Then:

Jensen

Sitting in the wardrobe department, cup of coffee wrapped in my hands I can’t keep my foot from bouncing nervously in anticipation of my roommate’s other best friend coming to visit for a month.

Jared’s standing with his back to door when she entered, “What the fuck have they been feeding you Padalecki?!”

Jared turns around only wearing his infectious smile and a pair of Sam’s jeans. “Ginger!” He rushs over and lifts her up like she weighs nothing spinning around several times. She starts laughing “Okay Tarzan, put me down, I’m getting dizzy!”

She steps back and reached up poking Jared’s pecs making them bounce, “Dude, your tits are bigger than mine, no fucking fair!”

“Are not and don’t call them tits, I’m not a girl,” he makes a grab for her hand but she dodges.

“Really, you got nipples so technically their tits, I’ll prove it,” and she grips the hem of her T-shirt lifting it up to her chin before Jared could stop her…oh shit, I can feel that stupid, embarrassing blush I do creeping up my face at the sight of her lacy bra not doing much to hide her nipples.

“Hey, engaged man here, you’re gonna get me in trouble!” Jared covers his eyes in mock shock.

She pulls her shirt back down, “Got it, no flashing, mooning or parading around naked in front of Jared. Well damn, there goes my fun.” She leans to the left looking around him at me, “So you must be Jensen the live-in-babysitter Ackles,” she walked over to me extending her hand, “I’m Y/N.”

I’m still blushing as I shake her hand, “I thought your name was Ginger,” I say stupidly, my upstairs brain is confused and downstairs is way more interested than it should be in someone I just met.

“Inside joke,” she chucks a thumb back at Jared, “this fucker thinks is funny.” They continue to banter back and forth before we’re called to the set.

Oh Chuck, now understand why these two are so close, she’s Jared minus the penis.

Shortly after I had moved into Jared’s we were looking for some photos his sister wanted when he came across some stills and candids taken from his Gilmore Girls years.

Ginger is the girl next door pretty but possesses an edginess about her, something in her eyes indicates her looks were deceiving. Jared said they had clicked like we did and been best friends ever since.

After one night out partying too hard with a few of the guys, a very inebriated Jared got this thumb drive out and showed me some videos he had made. Jared seems vanilla when it come to sex, although he is raunchy as hell with his quips.

I learned way too much about my friend’s kink for tongue piercings. He handed me the drive with a wink before staggering off to bed. I had no clue where Jared kept his porn and not wanting to make things really awkward between us, I stashed the drive in my room, forgetting about it.

The next morning I wasn’t hungover, shocking the hell out of me when I heard what sounds like a dying moose coming from the bathroom. I cautiously open the door to found a green tinged, clammy Jared with his head in the toilet. Sometime during the night he had gotten up and ate the marinating ribs Tom Welling had left in our fridge.

Jared spent the rest of the day at work drinking meat tenderizer and me? I felt immensely relieved he didn’t seem to remember anything after leaving the bar last night.

It’s been great having Ginger hanging out with us on and off set. She has this off kilter humor, making everyone crack up no matter how crappy or stressful the days have been.

On weekends we’ve been dressing up all these different disguises, doing the whole kitschy, touristy thing. She didn’t get to see much of the city last time she was here filming a movie.

She wrangled us into going to the Carousel museum and pretending they were cowboys, Ginger somehow managed to fold the 6’4” Sasquatch up on a tiny seahorse, even had Jared exaggerating his Texas twang to entertain a bunch of kids riding with them.

I began to develop a major problem. During the day, I’m good, staying busy, focused on work, but at night my dreams have taken on a life of their own. I keep dreaming of Ginger laying naked at the edge of my bed, her legs draped over my shoulders moaning lasciviously as I’m kneeling on the floor eating her out.

Sue me, I’m a single, horny guy who’s got my fantasy girl sleeping down the hall.

One night we ran into Mike Rosenbaum at a local pub and his mouth almost got all of us banned.

The look he gave Ginger followed by some remark I didn’t catch made her lose her shit, Jared grabbed her as she took a swing at Mike and picking her up in a fireman’s carry hauls her outside still cursing at Mike.

I couldn’t fathom what the hell had just happened.

When they can back in Jared has a firm grip on her arm and the look he gave Mike, a thunderous expression I’ve only seen when he is truly pissed off.

As they pass by Ginger throws F bombs and gives Mike the two finger salute before Jared shoves her into an open booth in the back keeping her pinned between the wall and him for the rest of the night

Mike remarked he can’t believe that Ginger has the chutzpah to visit Jared after the Gilmore Girls incident.

I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. He couldn’t believe I didn’t know about the whole, sorted scandal.

He started telling me Ginger was involved with an unnamed, not of age male star on the series, the real reason for her character’s abrupt departure from the show and how the WB hushed the whole thing up.

I was stunned, what he was saying didn’t fit the Ginger I’ve gotten to know. I asked if he was sure he got the story right and he said he got it straight from L.G. herself.

I must have had a doubtful look ‘cause he told me to ask Danneel, she knew about it too. That shocked me, she knew Ginger was staying with us, so why hadn’t she said something?

Before he left he said the one thing he never could understand is why Jared remained loyal to her when no one else did.

Then a very unpleasant notion clicked in my partially inebriated brain.

The thumb drive.

I had taken Mike’s advice and called Danneel, casually mentioning Ginger by her real name during our conversation and she flipped the fuck out on me. After I finally got her to calm down she confirmed the story.

***

Jared keeps asking me what’s wrong. I told him it was a disagreement with Danneel and I needed some time to work stuff out.

We were spending the day with a bunch of the cast, crew and their families at the Chilliwack Corn Maze and Pumpkin Farm and I was relieved, things were so awkward and tense at home even Sadie and Harley were picking up on it.

It was great hanging out with everyone, not thinking too much about what I didn’t want to believe. Jared seemed more himself, the big Moose enjoying hanging with the kids, playing, carving pumpkins with them.

Ginger and Jay got into this silly argument over who carved the best jack o’ lantern ending up in a mock fight with ladles at ten paces.

It was heading into late afternoon and those of us still hanging out were gathering around the lit fire pits relaxing with some drinks and swapping scary stories. Jared and Ginger disappeared awhile ago and I kept having this unsettling feeling so I decide to go look for them.

I spotted them sitting at one of the tables near the red and yellow sunflower fields, Jared’s swiping at his face. Concerned as to what’s upset him, I start to make my way over when Ginger suddenly climbs into his lap cradling his face in both hands wiping his tears and kisses him.

Part of me wants to run over there and jerk that bitch off of him but I know from experience it would upset him even more. It was then I decided I needed to confront Ginger about everything.

Ten minutes later Jared wanders back over telling me he’s leaving, heading straight to the airport to go meet his fiancée in Seattle, asking me to take care of the dogs.

I ask if everything was okay and he shrugs, saying he needs to talk to her about some things. He made his goodbyes and Clif said he’d be back to drive us home.

I went back to find Ginger wandering through the red sunflowers as the slowly sinking suns rays cast the field into vibrant colors. I momentarily forgot all my anger watching her, the way the light played over her, bringing out the red highlights in her hair to match the sunflowers swaying with the soft breeze around her.

It was at that moment I realized I’ve fallen in love with her.

I am so fucked up.

After we got back I took the dogs for a long walk trying to sort out what the hell I’m gonna do. By the time we get back Ginger has left a note saying she’s already gone to bed.

I got Sadie and Harley settled and grabbed a shower but still couldn’t relax, the events of today keep running round and round. I finally got up and decided to look for that damn drive, eventually finding it in a rarely used dresser drawer and sitting it on the nightstand go downstairs retrieving a bottle from the bar before heading back to bed.

It sits there mocking me, that damn drive containing her sins. I’ve downed almost three quarters of that bourbon the last few hours and it’s not helped one bit when hear the back door shutting. Ginger’s up early and had let the dogs out.

It’s now or never.

I fist the drive and stagger down stairs smelling fresh brewing coffee, she doesn’t drink it, only green tea. I find her in the kitchen refilling the dog’s water bowls.

“Morning, coffee will be ready in a minute, figured you could some after last night.”

“What ‘bout last night?”

“I heard you pacing around till all hours and since you’re so not a morning person…”

“You’re the reason I couldn’t sleep.”

She turned around with a confused look, “What do I have…”

I toss the drive on the counter and sat down on a bar stool as it lands with a clatter. She picks it up and scrunches her brow in confusion, “What’s this?”

I tip my head down, glaring at her as I feel my anger bubbling. She turns it over in her hands seeming to finally recognize it, ”Where the fuck did you get this?” Her voice is somewhere between shocked and I’d swear heartbroken. I keep glaring, “I know what’s on it and about everything else you did.”

“What I did?”

“To Jared when he was seventeen.”

Ginger eyes are full of anguish, shaking her head unable to say anything and runs out of the back door.

The dogs start frantically barking in the backyard. I jumped up and somehow managed to run straight out onto the deck spotting her with her arms wrapped around herself hyperventilating. I rushed over and she punched me, got a hell of a right jab, continues to pummel me.

I’m finally able to maneuver behind her wrapping her up in my arms from behind and grunting, “settle down before someone calls the Mounties,” wrestle her back inside shutting out the agitated dogs.

“H..how cou…could you think…I would hur…hurt Jared…he’s the only family I have!”

“I got the whole story from a very reliable source, how you pressured him into a sexual relationship or you’d make sure he’d lose his role on Gilmore Girls. Then I saw you kissing him yesterday before he left upset.”

“Fuck you Ackles, I was the one protecting him! I had my suspicions of what was happening and when I caught them together I knew what this person was trying to do to him.” She started pacing around the kitchen before speaking again.

“Oh, they were very good with the subtleties, knowing when and how to say what they wanted so you’d feel like you had no choice but to give in to them. I took the hit to keep it quiet for Jared, it’d cost him his career otherwise.” She throws the drive that was still clenched in her hand at me, “And FYI, that’s not me in those videos, the only thing that’s ever been pierced on me is my ears!”

I frowned, my brain trying to come back online to absorb what she was saying. There are a lot of users in this business, I ran into a few in my early career too but apparently not to the extent Jared had, “then who’s…”

Ginger winced, “Jared was dating this girl while living with me, I ended up investing in some noise cancelling headphones. How did you…”

“Jar and one to many,” I made the gesture for drinking and she chuckled, “Yeah, been there, done that.”

I wandered into the living room sitting down on one end of the couch and she sat on the other. Rubbing my hand over my face I asked, “What did you mean by Jared’s the only family you got Y/N?” It’s the first time I’ve called her by her real name.

Y/N started biting on her fingers just like Jared, “Swear you’ll never divulge what I tell you.”

“Ummm, yeah, I swear.”

“I grew up in the system, some of the homes were decent but no one wanted to adopt me, I was too this or that, it’s where I learned how to read people. Anyways, the last one was an end of the line place for those of us about to age out.

The couple seemed okay but it was obvious by how the others acted something was off. Man, they had being subtle down to a T. It wasn’t the first home I’d been in one like that but when they started with me…I split the first chance I got, made up a new name. Soon as I hit eighteen I took what money I had and legally changed it to Y/N Y/L/N.

I met Jared auditioning for Gilmore, made some dumb joke like where’d a tall drink like him been all my life. Next thing I knew he was taking me home to Texas for the holiday break to meet his family and I’ve been an unofficial Padalecki ever since.”

“So what was that yesterday?”

“If you’d stuck around you would’ve seen that I kissed Jared for like two seconds and convinced him to go see his girl, talk out what’s been bothering him. But nooo, you just…”

“Jump to conclusions based on erroneous facts?”

“Wow, maybe you should drink like this all the time, it drastically raises your IQ,” I give her my intimidating Dean expression and she scoffs, “I’m a smart ass, sue me.”

I let out this sigh I’ve never used before, “So, where do we go from here?”

“How about a shower ‘cause you stink dude,” she dramatically waves her hand in front of her face, “and I’ll fix my secret hangover cure.”

“What’s in it?” I ask because unlike Jared, I don’t eat anything and everything.

“You really don’t want to know, hence the secret bit, but I guarantee it works.”

Now:

Ginger

Jensen closed our apartment door as I haul my tired ass over to the couch. It’s the first time we’ve spent the day at Chilliwack since my diagnosis.

“You overdid it today sweetheart.” Jen’s voice was laced with concern as he headed into the kitchen sitting the pumpkins we carved on the counter and found a vase to put the cut red sunflowers in.

He places the vase on the coffee table for me and sits down as I stretch out laying my head in his lap and he starts running his thick fingers through my hair.

“Yeah, but so fucking worth it.” I contently remark.

We used to go every October on our anniversary, it’s where we held our wedding ceremony, surrounded by those red sunflowers where Jensen first realized he loved me.

The iPad sitting on the side table starts vibrating and Jen picks it up checking the notifications.

“Your blog post is getting hits like crazy.” He hands the pad to me.

I decided to post an article I composed on my…our journey from: my diagnosis, lumpectomy, radiation treatment and the eventual reconstructive surgery done months later.

In writing this I’m very candid on how cancer changed both our lives, what we went through, how it physically and emotionally steamrollered us, ultimately altering how we relate to each other.

I might have been the one who had it, but it affected Jensen in ways that most people tend to overlook. I was also open about the affects on our sex life too, much to his chagrin.

I wrapped it up with that I will have to be periodically tested for the rest of my life and so far, thankfully, they’ve all come back negative.

We decided to accompany the piece with a B & W photo, my gorgeous husband dressed to the nines looking hot as fuck with that beard.

And me?

I’m in nothing but a pair of high heels and his strategically placed hands, showing that the scars cancer survivors carry are not scary but a testament to our strength and ab-so-fucking-lutly nothing to be ashamed of.

“This should get those jerks to back the fuck off.” Jen remarks as I sit up.

“Hmmm…”

“I know that Hmmm, what are you thinking?”

“I was wondering if we should go ahead and make that other announcement, we can’t keep it a secret much longer.”

Jensen lets out the long suffering sigh he’s cultivated since we got together. “Might as well rip the bandage off…”

My husband at times…grrr arg, “could you be any more fucking excited?”

Jensen dramatically rolls his eyes before smiling at me. I playfully slap his shoulder getting up and move over to stand in front of the wall as he focuses the pads camera on me.

He has me do several poses before he’s happy and won’t let me see what he’s doing to it before posting on my blog. He breaks into the biggest kid in the candy shop grin showing it to me.

SPN: @donnaintx  @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987​

#random reblog #makemeswoon #Sabrina's 250 follower challenge #Jensen Ackles #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles rpf #dean winchester #Jared Padalecki #supernatural