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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 months

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Crazy, Stupid, Love

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean has to work at a café to learn infos on a hunt, he thinks it's the worst. Until he meets her. At first, she's only kind of an annoying coworker. But an unfortunate event brings them closer, and Dean starts feeling things for her. If it's love, he doesn't know. But for the first time, he starts wondering how it would feel to have a normal life. A normal job. And a normal relationship. But first, he needs to get her revenge against that shitty boss.

Note: this happens in the begining of season one

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Content Warning: Toxic work place, rude customer, humiliation, bullying, swearing

Squares: Humiliation for @hurtcomfort-bingo,/ Revenge for @jacklesversebingo

A/n: I'm gonna be honest, at first, I didn't want to post this fic. When I saw the attention the last few fics I took so much time to write got, it made me sad... But then I remembered how much fun I had with this one, so decided to post it in case someone else has the same fun reading it. ALSO! This was for @eevvvaa writing challenge! I picked the movie Crazy Stupid Love but actually used the quotes! They will be in bold in the text. Happy reading!

Usually, this situation would have upset him. After all, he was stuck here 8 hours per day, 5 days per week and always finished too late to go to the nearest bar afterwards. It also wasn’t the best first real job to have, as it was lame, boring, and always the same thing. But working at a café also had its advantages.

Like the beautiful barista that he had the chance to see on his first day. She was leaving, as she was only working mornings, and he was working evenings, but Dean couldn’t detach his eyes from her. Beautiful body, hair immaculate even after 8 hours of wearing a net, skin tanned to perfection.

“Oh great, another one.”

That wasn’t the girl he was talking about. No, the girl that just spoke was Y/n. At first glance, she looked like the manager. With the most seniority in here, she knew how things were done and how to do them quickly. But she was no boss. To make her agree to be his trainer and show him the basics, the real boss had to insist a lot. He didn’t know all the details, though, but she ended up accepting.

It was for a hunt. Otherwise, Dean would never be here. Sam said there was something weird in the neighborhood, and that the best way to discover what was going on was to talk with the community. And the best place to have conversations with people that didn’t want to talk with the police was of course at the local café. All the rumors and crispy details of the town were floating in there. The reason why it wasn’t Sam doing the whole barista thing was as simple as upsetting.

“Dean, you have all the charm. People- ladies- will open up to you like blooming flowers in the spring.”

Ugh.

Back to the present, Dean ignored Y/n’s comment and tilted his head to the side, still eyeing the morning employee that was leaving. “What do I have to do to get on the morning shift?”

A groan of annoyance resonated behind him. His smile fell. He was stuck with her for a while, as they were both working evening shifts.

Alone together.

There were 60 seconds in one minute. And 60 minutes in one hour. A shift lasted 8 hours here. That was way too many seconds to spend doing nothing but wait to leave.

All that was in his head was the hot chick he kept seeing since he started working here. After only bumping into her these past 2 weeks, Dean finally decided to ask her on a date. And since he was Dean Winchester, no one could tell him no. And the same day, after his shift, he would meet her in front of the pizza place that was two blocks away.

And he couldn’t stop looking at the clock, head in his hand, hoping that staring at it would make the time go faster.

“I asked for a hot caramel latte with almond milk and no foam, what the hell is this?!”

It was near the end. In 15 minutes, the shop would be closed and then it was cleaning time. Weeping the floor, throwing away the remaining food that was not sold, washing the dishes, etc. That was always his favorite part, because even if Y/n was a pain in the ass as his supervisor, she was chill and allowed him to choose the radio station while they cleaned and he could leave once his part was done.

At first, the voice didn’t alert him, and Dean kept on making himself busy with cleaning tables that didn’t need it. But then, something broke, the sound heavy of meaning, and he was on alert. Every fiber of his body was on and he turned to the source of the sound.

Right at the counter, there was a man with his back to him. Without seeing his face, Dean knew he was angry. Pissed, even. At his feet, a broken cup, porcelain in pieces covered the floor soaked in coffee. Two steps allowed Dean to know what the man was looking at, and when he saw her…

He immediately rushed without thinking.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave, sir,” Dean put his hand on the customer’s shoulder, which made him jump. The man turned to him and aggressively stepped back.

“Don’t touch me,” the man hissed. “You’re working here, huh?” He looked up and down at Dean, noticing the apron of the café he was wearing. “Must be the manager here. Well, your employee here is worthless, you should be careful who you hire, for fuck sake!”

At that, Dean couldn’t help but wince. That was unnecessary rude to say. He glanced at Y/n again and felt his heartbeat with pain. Her head was down, probably to hide tears. That was probably not the first time she had to serve asshole customers, but it was the first time Dean noticed it. Working in customer service was not easy at all, you had to be strong to endure all of that everyday.

He only knew Y/n for about two weeks, but he already knew a lot about her. She was calm. Kind. She cared about doing her job right. Yeah, she was a bit bossy and used every opportunity to send subtle little insults towards Dean just enough to annoy him, like how he couldn’t even do a coffee, in this economy? But it was never mean and he liked that side of her that didn’t let people step on her toes. But right now, in front of that man? She was small. She wanted to hide. It wasn’t the Y/n he knew.

“I’m not the boss,” Dean answered finally, placing his gaze back on the man. “But we’re closed, so I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

The rude customer was the last one in the café, so it wasn’t like he was breaking any rules. And he was Dean Winchester. He made the rules.

Red seemed to eat at the man’s face so much he was angry. “Not before I get what I fucking paid for!” He started yelling. Dean didn’t mind being screamed at, he was used to it with his dad, how sad it sounded. But when the man turned to Y/n to yell at her, Dean couldn’t hold himself back. “You useless cunt!”

“I said, out!” Dean grabbed the customer by the neck and quickly sent him backwards. His legs met the table right behind him, but it wasn’t enough to make him understand. The man lunged forward in an attempt to hit Dean, but he didn’t know.

Dean was waiting for it.

The fist missed, and the man stumbled into the void and collapsed on the floor like a clown.

“This isn’t over,” the man growled and got up. Sure he would strike again, Dean was ready to fight. But this time, the fist didn’t miss. The pain came later, a few seconds after the hunter realized he got hit in the face. Fortunately for his ego, Dean managed to stay on his feet and not fall pathetically on the floor.

He reached for the wound.

It was right near his left eye, it would bruise for sure.

With deadly flames in his green eyes, he looked at his target.

“Oh, you’re dead.”

The rest happened quickly.

Dean decided he wouldn’t hold back anymore. As his head throbbed with ache and anger, he was about to hit with everything he got. But at the last moment, something interrupted him. A body, warm, soft, encircling his own, stopped him from moving.

“Please stop…”

Her voice woke him up completely. Shaking, she put herself between the two men to stop the fight even if she was scared.

The man took the opportunity to run away, the bell chiming behind him as the door closed violently.

A long silence followed the departure of the aggressive customer. A couple of seconds passed, then minutes, before she realized there was no silence actually. Things were happening around her, words were spoken, and the only person besides her was running around locking doors and closing blinds, cursing every word he could think of at the moment.

Her hearing was nothing but a shrill sound, almost painful, like she was deaf. It took another minute and him calling her name for her to come back to the present.

"You okay? He didn't hurt you?" Dean was kneeling in front of her. She finally noticed she was sitting down on a chair. Shaking her head, she tapped her hands in her face to finish waking herself up from her slumber.

"You're hurt and you ask me if I'm okay?" She stood up as she spoke, Dean doing the same. Then she seemed to disappear in the backstore to come back with a bag of frozen vegetables they used for the soup. "Sit down," she instructed.

Dean would have been impressed by her capacity to focus after such an event, especially with how she was a couple of seconds ago, but he knew better. She wouldn't meet his gaze, her head was down, and when he glanced at her hands, it was to see them shake.

"Y/n-"

"Oh, come on, sit down, your masculinity won't suffer too much, I just want to check," she rolled her eyes and almost pushed him to the chair. Dean let himself be moved around with a smirk. That was the Y/n he knew. "There, it's not that bad, huh?"

"It's no big deal," he tried to convince her, after all, as a hunter, he got hurt more than once before and healed perfectly fine. But when he saw her, he understood. And he let himself be checked by her only for her. To reassure her it was nothing, it was fine, it would bruise into a black eye and nothing else.

"Okay, it's not that bad," she sighed in relief as she said that.

"Told you," Dean snickered with a smile. "Ouch!"

The frozen bag was now on his bruise and Y/n was turning her back to him. His first instinct was to ask her if she was okay, check on her, after all, she seemed pretty shaken up, but he knew she needed time, that was all.

"We should call the police," Dean ended up saying. Usually, he would never propose that, but the customer was human. A monster in some sort, but completely human, so the police could take care of it.

"No!" She turned harshly towards Dean, surprising him.

"Why not?"

Pacing back and forth, Y/n seemed to get lost in her thoughts. "It's not necessary, I doubt the customer will come back, and it would put the cafe in a bad spot, we would lose customers and…"

Again, Dean knew. Y/n was a good employee, she loved doing her job right, but she hated the place, hated the menu and the disgusting coffee served here, and hated the management. But they were the ones giving her her salary at the end of the month, so she couldn't disappoint them.

"I can deal with the boss," Dean said, standing up, the bag still on his eye.

In front of him, Y/n sadly shook her head. "It won't be necessary." She pointed at one corner of the cafe. Then another. "There's cameras around, and he loves to watch. Loves to tell us everything we do wrong. He probably already knows it happened. We'll see tomorrow, I guess," she sighed. Then, like a thought crossed through her head, she lifted her head completely and crossed gaze with Dean. "Your date! You're gonna be late!"

Dean wanted to laugh. So badly. Of course, he talked to her about it. Kristina, their coworker from the morning shift and Dean's date, was waiting for him. But after what happened, it completely got out of his head. Smiling, he shook his head and placed the bag of defrosting vegetables on the table beside him.

"I'll call her, say something came up. She'll understand."

Y/n cringed, biting her lips and frowning. "I don't think she cares enough to understand. But you're cute and sexy so maybe she'll forgive your ass."

Immediately after saying those words, Y/n became a puddle of embarrassment. Her body flushed with the realization of what she just admitted.

"Really?" Dean would not let that go. "You think I'm the perfect combination of sexy and cute ?"

"Shut up," she murmured between her teeth, grabbing the nearest thing, the cloth he was using to clean the tables, to throw it at him. "Get out of here your shift is over."

"Yeah," Dean surprised himself by what he said next. "But I won't let you walk back home alone. Consider me your cute and sexy bodyguard," he laughed at her reaction, but it was nothing compared to the sound leaving his mouth when he received another cloth on the head. "Hey, this one was wet"

"Oops!"

The next day started pretty badly. After a complicated night with barely any sleep and lots of nightmares, Y/n got up early to get ready. Even if her shift started at 3pm, she knew the phone would ring and the ruthless voice of her boss would order her to come in to talk.

About what happened.

It was not even noon when it happened. She was at her third coffee, so she had energy even if she felt dead inside. Since she was already dressed, all she had to do was grab her stuff and head to the cafe. Like usual, she had to walk since she didn't have enough savings to buy a car.

The weather was quite nice, compared to how gloomy she was feeling. It was warm and sunny outside. Y/n barely made a step out, locking her door, that a loud engine startled her. The sun was reflecting strongly on the hood, blinding her as she walked with caution towards it, and for a moment she thought maybe it was the customer that found her and came to finish what he started. Fortunately she recognized the car quickly, as it was the same car that drove her home last night.

A 67 chevy impala.

It was even more beautiful than when she saw it yesterday.

The drive to the cafe was quiet, apart from the chichats. How are you? Do you feel better? So, did he call you too? Usually, Y/n would have commented on something random just to annoy Dean, but when he turned his head towards her at a red light to ask her a question, she saw the bruise around his eyes, reminding her of the night before and how everything was her fault. If only she hadn't messed up the order…

Once parked in front of the cafe, Dean stopped the engine to turn to Y/n. "Hey," he said in a calm and steady voice. "Whatever happens there, it was neither our fault."

"I appreciate it, Dean, but it was. I was in charge, even though I told the boss more than once that I didn't want to be, so what happens on my shift is my fault." Without leaving him time to answer, she opened the door and left the car to enter the cafe.

The moment she stepped inside, a loud silence echoed around her. Every employee stopped chatting to stare at her, the customers mimicking their actions, wondering what was so much more interesting than getting their order right and fast.

Y/n hated that. The attention. The eyes on her. The silence. Her body started shaking, both with anger and humiliation, the tears almost painful to hold back. But then, as she was about to step towards the boss' office, a warmth settled on her shoulder, stopping the tremors at once. And a voice she was starting to grow fond of whispered near her ear.

"Ignore them. They don't matter right now."

With Dean, she felt safe. Strong. Like she could do everything and never feel afraid anymore. That was until they were sitting in the office in front of the boss.

“Y/n, I am wildly disappointed with you. What you did was beyond unprofessional, and I can’t believe I have to do this. You’re suspended.”

It was nothing less than what she expected from her boss. Since working there, she had done everything to stay in his good graces, sometimes doing other people's jobs to compensate. Everything to keep the restaurant clean and to continue serving fresh food every day. It wasn't Kristina who would write down expiration dates on perishable products, or place the new arrival of breads behind the ones already there to prevent the oldest ones from remaining at the bottom of the shelf, covered in mold. If this place passed the health inspection every year, it was thanks to Y/n’s efforts, efforts that no one had ever noticed or considered.

It was probably better that way.

Head bowed, Y/n took a harsh breath and opened her mouth to apologize and admit her boss was right. However, the words could not come out of her mouth fast enough, because someone else was already speaking.

“This is bullshit,” Dean exclaimed. A quick glance in his direction, and Y/n could see his hands forming fists on his thighs. “Y/n did everything perfectly, it’s not her fault if customers don’t respect anything, not even themselves!”

“Dean, I think you're new here,” the boss replied with a calmness that didn't mean anything good. Y/n tried to draw Dean's attention to her to signal him to shut up, that it was nothing, that she could survive a week suspended, but the young man paid her no mind. And one look at his face showed her the same anger she had seen in him the previous evening, when he had decided to defend himself against the customer. “I watched the surveillance cameras carefully. Your reactions with this client, although undoubtedly intended to be heroic, were completely unacceptable. The next time you make a mistake, you will suffer the same fate as Y/n. For now, take your day, see you on Monday, Dean.”

"That's all?!" This time, Dean stood up as he spoke. “Y/n gets suspended, and I only get a warning and a day off? What the f-”

“Thank you,” Y/n quickly cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly to silence him. Strangely, like the day before, her intervention seemed to calm Dean down very quickly. “See you next week.”

As she was about to leave, her hand still holding Dean's wrist to drag him out of the office, a voice called out to her.

"Two weeks. See you in two weeks.”

It took a lot of control for her to say nothing. The inside of her cheek hurt from how hard she bit it, dragging Dean out of the office and then out of the restaurant. It was only once outside, far from prying ears and vulture eyes, that she was finally able to breathe.

“FUCKING BULLSHIT! FUCK YOU!” Suddenly came out of her mouth. If Dean still had any anger at that moment, it suddenly vanished when he heard so many curses coming out with so much anger from the usually calm Y/n. “Oh. It feels better."

Having never seen her like this, it took several seconds for Dean to compose himself. Large green eyes were fixed on her, wide, shocked, even, until a good hit on the arm woke him up completely. "Ouch!" He rubbed his arm as if it hurt even though her fist had barely tickled him.

“What the fuck was that, seriously?! Talk to the boss like that? You’re born stupid or you’re just too dumb to think, fuck, Dean!”

Still as surprised and shocked, Dean didn't respond immediately. Y/n was angry. More, even. Beyond pissed. Which was completely normal under the circumstances, except Y/n wasn't normally angry. She could get upset, complain about the system, the management, the customers, or how she was the only one doing all the little things that made the café special and comfortable, but she was never angry.

“I couldn’t let him talk to you that way, I just couldn’t,” Dean explained calmly. It was quite rare for him to be the calm one in a heated argument. But in this case, he knew he had to keep his own rage to himself, she didn't need more anger. She needed to speak, to expel this emotion out of her like a demon that needed to be exorcized.

“Well, that was fucking stupid,” she pointed at him, her gaze meeting his. This surprised him again. Y/n was shy, although she was a good leader, and he noticed she had trouble looking people in the eye for several seconds. She always ended up looking away, and he knew it wasn't because she was dishonest, but rather that she was afraid of the judgment in the eyes of others. So that she was yelling at him while staring right at him… That surprised Dean again and made him speechless.

For a few seconds, he forgot that he was being told off by a girl for defending her, and lost himself in the contemplation of her magnificent orbs. Since he had known her, he had never really seen them, or bothered to look at them.

And her eyes were beautiful, even filled with anger.

Probably noticing the eye contact was getting considerably long, Y/n finally broke the almost trance-like effect to gaze elsewhere.

“Have you had it long?”

She was still not looking at him. "What?"

“The uncontrollable need to save the damsel in distress.” The corner of her lips lifted up in a smirk.

“I-” He couldn’t tell her that this was actually his life. Saving the woman and the orphan, killing the monsters, it was so ingrained in his life that it was part of him.

“Come on,” she muttered, still not meeting his gaze, gesturing to him to follow her.

"Come on… Where?" It was the longest conversation he'd had with her, and it was only because she was angry, he remembered. He was here for a hunt, he had to learn more about the people of the town. Concentration and focus were required, but yet... This side of Y/n, her confidence, how she wasn't afraid to yell at him like that, when she was normally so gentle...

He liked that side of her. Not that he disliked the rest, it was just-

“I think you have tonight off, and I, well, the next two weeks.” Starting to walk towards the impala, she then stopped and turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it?”

A big smile stretched Dean's lips. This was the Y/n he knew. “Probably over there,” he pointed to the horizon. “Near the pizzeria. You hungry?”

The pizza was the most delicious thing that had passed Y/n's lips in a long time. Very greasy and dripping with cheese, the junk food was simply good after such a catastrophic day. And sharing this moment with his colleague, accomplice, even, and perhaps friend- if he wanted to- was the icing on the cake.

Her heart always beat a beat and a half faster when he was near her. And although she tried not to like him, not to get attached to what was clearly a bad boy who preferred girls like Kristina, who just hung out with her because he had free time… She simply couldn't deny it anymore. What her heart desired was starting to win over what reason screamed at her.

Don't fall in love.

And yet, as that evening at the pizzeria after her suspension turned into an almost daily routine, her heart prevailed. The crush she immediately had for the young man with emerald eyes and cheeks covered in a milky way of little freckles was slowly transforming into something deeper.

A week had passed since her suspension, it was Saturday again, and as usual, Y/n and Dean found themselves at the pizzeria. The owner himself now came to take their order, even though he already knew what the two wanted since they always ordered the same thing. Everything was going exactly as usual, Dean recounting his day at work, how slowly everything was going downhill without her.

“I worked with a new guy, and son of a bitch, I’ve never seen someone take their time so much. It’s like he did it on purpose,” Dean sipped his drink. Y/n’s gaze followed the movement of the Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallowed. She was barely concentrating on what he was saying. “We had two complaints that the sandwich bread had mold, but the person in the kitchen didn't get in trouble for it. It’s like the boss knows that no matter the wait time, the quality of the food, or the attitude of the employees, the cafe will always make money since it’s the only one in town,” Dean let out a little laugh which only spread the butterflies in Y/n’s stomach. “Let me tell you that over the past week, some regulars have stopped coming. Oh, and many have asked where you’ve been.”

“It’s not surprising,” she finally answered after a few seconds of silence where only the chewing of Dean devouring his pizza could be heard. On the table, near the windows, the dessert was already there, two slices of pie that the owner had reserved for them knowing they were coming. Her gaze fell on the dessert as she spoke although she really wanted to look him in the eyes. Admiring the perfect color of his orbs, admiring how everything was perfect about him. It was so difficult. “What’s surprising is that the health inspection hasn’t closed this place yet.”

These words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by silence. Finally glancing over at Dean, she found that he had stopped eating mid-bite, staring blankly at her. It was almost as if Y/n could see the gears moving in his mind.

“Yet.” That was all he said next, taking the time to finish his bite before continuing. "I have an idea."

“I could figure that much,” she laughed as she took her drink, anything to occupy her hands and look normal in his presence. Luckily he couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage.

“We're going to avenge you,” he pointed ahead, at her, and that was enough for her eyes to move from his finger to his eyes. She managed to hold his gaze for several long seconds which seemed to her like hours of torture. "You'll see."

"See what? Oh, how cute,” a voice broke the bubble Y/n and Dean were in. She hadn't heard that voice in a week, and it had been the best thing her suspension had given her, except for all the time she'd spent with Dean since.

“Kristina,” Y/n muttered under her breath, her eyes immediately going to her pizza. A weight seemed to settle on her chest, pressing down hard with its gigantic pressure.

“Hey,” Dean greeted her, and the pressure thumped harder against her heart. “How you doing, Kristina?”

His tone was kind. Friendly. Sweet. Just like he was with Y/n. But with a bonus, he was flirty.

Obviously.

She was not special.

“Oh, I'm doing well, much better,” she laughed. “Especially since Y/n isn’t at the café anymore. No one is ordering us around anymore, right, Dean?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see movement. Raising her head just enough to have her in her sight without looking directly at her, she could see her hand on Dean's shoulder. Besides, she wasn't alone. Two other girls from the cafe were standing with her. Without looking at them, Y/n knew. She felt their gaze on her, burning, like vultures around prey.

“I actually liked working with Y/n,” Dean replied as calmly as ever. His words created a spark of hope in Y/n who this time looked directly at Dean. “It’s not as fun without her,” he continued.

“Oh,” Kristina laughed, and her two henchmen followed suit. “I know you want to stay in her good graces by saying all this,” she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, but made no effort to lower her voice. “But you don’t need to. I think she's going to get fired. The customer came back to file a complaint against her.”

"What?" Dean leaned back slightly to get a better look at Kristina. Now he had his face so close to hers that only one movement was necessary to kiss her. And he had a perfect view into her cleavage. “But…” He turned his head towards the girl sitting in front of him, obviously not understanding why she was being fired and not him.

“You don’t have to lick her boots anymore,” Kristina put a hand on her hip. “I know she’s in love with you, but at this point, it’s pity, right? Spending time with her… Poor little thing. No friends. No boyfriend. Only feelings for those who don’t love her. Just like last time, always falling for the new guy.”

Her face was burning. Y/n was seething, with anger, with sadness, with humiliation. And the worst, the worst was Dean's expression. His gaze, which he constantly fixed on her, seeking to meet her gaze, wanting so much for her to grant him one look, was now stuck in emptiness. And a look of pure confusion made him frown.

Dean refused to look at her anymore.

It was too much.

“Ew, friends to friends,” Kristina added, as if the stabs she had already thrown didn’t hurt enough already. “Ew.”

Standing abruptly, Y/n slammed her hands on the table. Head bowed, her hair cascaded in front of her face, trying as best as they could to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes and inevitably rolled down her cheeks. A ton of insults raced through her mind, but they all got stuck in her throat with this lump growing and growing, until finally, the tears flowed.

One.

Two.

One fell silently onto the table. The other, on her plate, right next to the barely eaten slice of pizza.

Before the third tear fell, Y/n was already out of the restaurant and walking as quickly as she could towards her house. The tears continued to flow without her being able to stop them, but she remained silent. If she could control one thing tonight, it would be her voice. No sound would come out of her mouth until she was alone, at home, in her bed. Only there, she would let herself scream all this pain into her pillow.

No one tried to catch her.

“Good news,” Sam announced before his brother had even closed the door. “Get this. There was no monster from the beginning. It was actually kids who created the whole thing to attract attention. You don’t have to play barista anymore.”

"Oh."

Looking up from his laptop, Sam fixed his gaze on Dean. The door closed slowly and he took off his coat just as slowly and placed it on his bed. The motel was shabby, like all the others, and usually, Dean would never place his precious leather coat on those blankets which he called "the most disgusting object the universe has known." He'd cleaned the covers several times to be sure, but the comforter had kept this unnatural color, so he still didn't trust it.

“Dean.”

“I'm going to take a shower,” his brother grumbled as he headed towards the bathroom, completely ignoring what Sam had just said.

“Okay, but-” the door slammed. “Okay.”

Sam waited for Dean to finish his shower for almost an hour. The only reason Dean Winchester would take such a long shower would be the fantastic water pressure, but having used this bathroom for over 3 weeks, Sam knew that really wasn't the case.

Finally, Dean came out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Sam closed his laptop to put his full attention on his brother. The latter sat at the end of his bed, dressed with fresh clothes, his towel on his shoulder to catch the droplets falling from his hair.

“Have you ever dreamed of a normal life?” Dean answered his question with another question. At this, Sam rolled his eyes.

“I had a normal life before, remember? Before you picked me up to find Dad?”

Dean made a sound that was a mix of a sigh of guilt and a grunt of frustration, probably directed at himself. "I know but…"

“I can't believe it,” Sam stood up at the revelation. “You like working there.”

“Nah,” Dean slapped the air like he was chasing away the stupid idea. “Actually, yeah, but not anymore. Working in customer service is horrible.”

“I feel like there's a but,” Sam went to sit next to his brother on the bed.

“But,” Dean took a deep breath. "There is a girl."

Sam sighed. Obviously it was about a girl. ��Have you slept with her yet? Because if you want to stay here for a one night stand, I swear-”

“She’s in love with me.”

Sam turned his whole body towards his brother, his eyes wide. "Oh."

"Oh."

“Do you like her back?”

At this question, Dean's face disappeared under his large hands. “I don’t know,” his voice sounded muffled by his palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed, removing his hands at the same time. It was his turn to avoid looking at someone, staring at the void instead. “I don’t know what it is to love. How to love. If it’s love. It was never explained to me, you know, it wasn’t dad who would tell me how to know if I love someone.”

A silence followed his words, but not for long.

“With Jess…” Sam began slowly, as if the words he was about to say were poisonous snakes that could bite him at any moment. “It was simple. I felt good with her. She felt good with me. And together, we were good.”

“Okay,” Dean listened intently, as if the answers he was looking for were on his brother's lips.

“Do you like spending time with her?” He then asked.

Dean didn't even think for a second. "Oh yeah."

“When you're not with her, what do you do? You think about her, right?”

This time, Dean took a moment before answering. “Well, I worked at the cafe, so obviously I was thinking about her, since she wasn’t there but she used to. And then, when I finished work, I would go see her and we would order food or go to the pizzeria.”

“Okay, and then?”

"And then what?" Dean finally looked his brother in the eye. He still had questions, still doubts, confusion, but that was completely normal. A soft, understanding smile stretched Sam's lips.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Oh, how I want to punch that shitty boss in the face,” Dean clenched his fist to mimic his words. “I never hit women, but that girl, Kristina, humiliated Y/n terribly earlier. And I reacted too late, she was gone and-”

He stopped speaking suddenly, as if enlightenment had finally reached his mind.

"And?"

“I have to join Y/n, apologize, I-”

“Dean.”

Stopping just as he was getting up and putting his coat back on, the green eyed man turned to his brother.

“If you're in love, I can't tell you, Dean. But I can confirm that you like her. But for tonight, let her breathe, these feelings are new for the both of you.”

At these words, Dean collapsed on the bed. “Oh, you’re probably right. I don't want to rush her, you know, she's so shy, but at the same time, so... Fierce. She's the perfect balance of sweet and spicy. And I let her down.”

To that, Sam didn't know what to answer. He knew that feeling, the one of having abandoned the person you love. That's how he felt ever since he lost Jess.

“I'm sure you'll figure out how to make amends,” Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Actually… I think I already know,” Dean turned his head towards him, green eyes meeting amber ones. Green eyes sparkling with a new resolution, probably very wicked. “And you, my dear brother, will be able to help me.”

Turned out, losing another employee during the busiest time of the year was a sufficient reason to terminate a suspension preemptively. And although, clearly, this did not seem to make certain employees happy and even less the boss who hated coming back on his decisions, Y/n was able to return to work after barely a week of forced leave. And also, strangely, the customer’s complaint seemed to have vanished from existence. Or maybe it was another lie that Kristina came up with to hurt Y/n.

And what a surprise when she arrived and saw the place.

It was depressing. Everything was messy and upside down, unopened boxes that needed to be refrigerated were lying around everywhere, and other products that needed to stay at room temperature, like syrups, ended up in the freezer. No rotation had been made, and it was with sadness that she had to note all the food they lost and throw everything away. It took her a long time, long enough for someone she despised to come and tell her how to do her job.

"What are you doing? Customers are waiting! Have you forgotten how to work?”

After making this more than derogatory comment, Kristina returned to her favorite position, the one that required the least effort.

Her heart was heavy. Filled and at the same time, empty. Since the last time with Dean at the pizzeria, she hadn't received any news. No call. No text. No, her heart wasn't big with heaviness, it was broken. Split. And now that she had returned to the café, she learned he no longer worked there.

Good for him, she thought as she put away one last box before heading towards the front of the café to deal with the customers. At least he was out of this hell. It was maybe better that way.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?” The usual words were so ingrained in her that they came out of her mouth as soon as she was behind the cash register, without even looking at the customer.

“I would like you to give me the chance to talk to you,” a familiar voice said in front of her. That voice, low, hoarse, and so perfect. She had started to get used to hearing it almost every day. But this time, it forged yet another crack on her heart.

“Dean,” even saying his name was painful. The pain of a lost friendship and crushed hope. The pain of a humiliated moment, a bad memory where he had sat there in silence while she was being crushed as an inactive witness.

“Y/n. There’s no word to express how sorry I am for-”

An apology, of course, wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was more than she had expected. He was there, in the flesh, in front of her. So, for once and although it was difficult because looking at him would hurt her even more, Y/n raised her head and stared into his sad gaze. Ready and open to hear what he had to say.

There was a sadness almost identical to her own in his beautiful green eyes. Guilt, regrets, he seemed sincere-

“Dean! I thought you had left the ship,” Kristina suddenly entered Y/n’s bubble, who didn’t waste a moment to move to the side. It wasn't unknown that Y/n didn't like being touched or having someone in her bubble, and Kristina knew it, so she did it on purpose. All the time.

“Excuse me, but I was talking with Y/n,” Dean replied in a neutral voice, almost annoyed, even.

“Oh, sure, you want to feel better about last time, but you don't have to,” Kristina continued, crossing her arms over her large chest.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to Y/n. “I’m serious, Y/n. Come with me, I need to talk to you. And they don’t deserve you.”

Y/n's mouth opened, then closed, tears welling up in her eyes at an uncontrollable speed.

“Seriously, Dean, don’t you see how pathe-”

“Kristina, shut the fuck up. You’re bothering us.”

This really didn't please the girl who made an offended sound, threw an unimportant insult, and left without another word.

Once finally alone again, Dean was ready. Ready to tell the beautiful barista in front of him everything that was on his heart, even if he didn't really know exactly what it was himself. He had some in the past, girlfriends, one night stands, crushes on the most beautiful and popular girls in school, but that wasn't the same thing. He felt an attachment to Y/n, a different feeling that he couldn't describe. If it was love, he didn't know. But he knew he didn't want to lose her.

“It's a little too late to come to my defense,” her voice said instead of his. Taken by surprise, Dean's mouth opened then closed, like a fish looking flabbergasted. “Although I really enjoyed seeing someone tell her to fuck off for once,” the shadow of a smile drew on her face for a second, but quickly faded away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work-”

“Wait,” Dean found his voice just in time.

“I don’t have time, Dean,” Y/n turned her back on him, giving him one last eye contact above her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with sadness and seeing her like that physically hurt him.

“On the contrary,” Dean insisted, a smile tugging at his lips as he knew the plan was going like clockwork. “You will soon have plenty of time.”

Seeing the obvious confusion spread across her face, Dean jerked his head towards the boss's office. This caught the attention of not only Y/n but also the other employees, because at the same time, voices were heard coming from that direction. Loud voices, displeased, and then the door opened.

“I am very disappointed with the state of this place. It's deplorable. I’m afraid I won't change my mind, the café is going to close.”

“Wait,” the boss looked tiny behind the person who had just spoken. Like the weight of reality was finally falling on his shoulders. Stomping him to the ground like a pest, just how he had always treated his employees. "You can’t, you don’t have the right!"

“I have all the rights, I am a health inspector, and this place is completely unsanitary.”

Witnessing the whole scene in the front row, like she was in the cinema, Y/n was jubilant. Finally. Finally this place was recognized as being good for trash. Finally, the boss got what he deserved. Finally, things seemed to come full circle and it was all over.

The health inspector subsequently introduced himself to the employees. He looked very young for this job, early twenties, probably, long hair parted in the middle of his forehead and hazel eyes, but regardless, he had done his job properly so Y/n didn’t care about the details.

“This place is going to close. But don't worry, you are entitled to unemployment compensation. Time to find something better for you,” the inspector finished his speech with a wink. If Y/n wasn't so excited by the idea of being rid of this miserable job, she would have been sure that the wink was aimed at her personally.

A laugh brought her attention back to Dean who was still in front of her. As the health inspector informed the customers present of the situation and put a note in the door to say the café was permanently closed, Dean was giggling.

“You did this,” Y/n finally understood.

“Told you we would get you revenge. Now, can you please come with me and listen to me? I need to talk to you.”

“After what you did for me, lunch is on me,” Y/n laughed as well, took off her apron which she threw behind her, and left the café without a glance behind her.

“Listen. So uhm, how can I say this, so uhm… God, I’m so bad at chick flicks and emotional stuff.”

The two had been sitting at the pizzeria for about an hour and a half pizzas. The same place as usual, with the same order, but this time everything was different. It was not simply out of friendship that they came to share a meal, there was more. Hidden feelings, others clearly visible but which had not yet been addressed, and frustration mixed with regrets.

Dean had been trying for two slices of pizza now to say something, but would immediately turn red the moment he tried to open up emotionally. And Y/n couldn't even blame him, seeing the efforts he made for her, what he did at the cafe, for her, and now he was trying so hard to explain and make it up to her… He could say absolutely nothing and she would be satisfied.

“Take your time,” Y/n mentioned between mouthfuls, leaving all her attention on the young man in front of her who still made her heart beat so quickly. Of course, he had made mistakes, and to forgive him just because he had the best revenge for her was pretty stupid, but oh well. Love makes you stupid, right? “It’s not like someone is waiting for me.”

“It’s just,” Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face. Y/n's gaze stayed on the ring on his finger, a ring she had already noticed before. “Not easy to say this. I mean, not to you, but like, talking about my stuff like this. But there’s one thing I know I have to say, and here it is,” he finally seemed to find his bearings, beautiful green eyes anchoring into hers, his red cheeks creating a nice color contrast. "I'm sorry. Sorry for not saying anything when Kristina was there being a bitch. I guess I was taken up by surprise with what she said, but that’s no excuse.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Y/n shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him. She took a big breath, words and sentences forming quickly in her mind. And it all came out of her mouth as quickly. “I am not ashamed to like you. Not at all. Because you are nice. Pretty. Hella sexy. And I feel comfortable whenever I’m with you. And I like spending time with you, and always wanna spend more. I won’t be ashamed to think all those things about you, because they are true, and they only make you a better person.” Pausing her words, Y/n forced herself to keep her gaze on Dean's again. She noticed that since those words had come out of her mouth, it was easier to hold his gaze. “You don’t have to have the same feelings, I understand. You don’t have to reciprocate or answer my confession, I can already see how bad it is for you to express feelings,” she laughed briefly at his scowling expression. “What I’m trying to say is… Yes. I like you a lot. And if you only like me as a friend, well, I’ll take that. It might hurt, but it would hurt more to not have you around anymore.”

Phew. It was hard to say, but once everything was out, Y/n felt better, lighter even. A heavy weight was finally leaving her heart, but there was still a little left. That was pressing. And tightening with the question… What will his answer be?

Dean took a brief moment to think before answering. Everything had gone silent, neither of them were eating, and both were probably holding their breaths.

“I've only known you for a short time,” Dean finally broke the silence, and the breath left Y/n's lungs which burned as it passed. She could feel the “but” coming. “But…” And there you go. “I really appreciate your company. A lot. I don’t know if it’s the same thing you feel, or if it’s love, but for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t want to leave this town. And I want to continue spending time with you.” Hope was reborn in Y/n, a wave of indescribable emotions suddenly invading her. “I'm going to have to leave, eventually, for work, but... I really want to take a break and try. I don’t know if I can do it, have a normal life, be with you, and just quit my job, so… I can’t promise you anything. I will probably leave eventually, I have so much stuff to do and…”

“You know,” Y/n continued when she saw him struggling with his words, hope now so strong in her body that she was almost vibrating. It wasn't a confession of love, but it was even better. This attachment Dean felt for her was worth even more than any cheesy love confession from the romantic movies or books she loved to delve into. “I no longer really have any ties to this city. No more jobs. If… We realize that things are working between us, and that you need to leave, nothing stops me from coming with you.” Realizing that it was probably too direct since they weren't even together, Y/n quickly adjusted her mind. “But those are just random ifs and thoughts,” she hurriedly took a bite of her pizza, just to make her stop talking.

“Y/n,” raising her head, she looked back at Dean. The latter had a big smile on his face and shook his head, clearly amused by her words. “If I told you what I did for work, you would never believe me. And when you”ll see it with your eyes and will be forced to believe me, you’re going to want to run away from me.”

“You’re a secret agent then?” Y/n hurriedly said, her mouth still full of pizza, her eyes wide. “Wow. Impressive.” She laughed, and Dean nervously laughed with her. If only it was that, it would be so much easier. “It really reminds me of my uncle.”

“Your uncle was a secret agent?” Dean asked, amused by the change of subject and how she was easily taking everything he said to her.

She was really the right one. Maybe she wouldn't run away after all.

“No, actually. When I was young, I often spent time at his house, but my parents stopped visiting him. They said he had lost his mind. But I loved these stories of ghosts and werewolves, he always told me he hunted them, saving people, like a secret agent of the supernatural,” a big smile stretched her lips at this thought, past memories flooding back into her head. It was so long ago, but she kept good memories of her uncle. Expecting the same reaction from Dean, Y/n only met a shocked face, frozen in a position that didn't suit him at all. Eyes wide, mouth parted, his skin white like he actually saw a ghost. She waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dean?”

“Y/n, what’s your last name again?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, she blinked once and then twice. “Uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s Singer, why?”

A long silence answered her questions and her face dropped a little bit. Why did it matter?

“Your uncle… What's his name?”

“Dean, I haven’t seen my uncle in almost 15 years you know-”

“Y/n.”

“Robert. It’s Robert. But I always called him…”

“Bobby.”

It was her turn to have her eyes widen. “Yeah…?”

“I think you and I have more in common than I thought. And you really need to meet my brother,” he immediately stood up and threw two 20 bills on the table. Standing up in turn, confusion filled her entire expression.

“Dean, that’s way too much for two pizzas- Dean?” But she couldn't add more, and the confusion turned into this small, pleasant flame in the middle of her chest when Dean's hand met hers. “Okay, but you’re going to have to explain it to me because I don’t understand anything.”

“You'll understand,” Dean's smile was indescribable because it was so big. But that smile was hiding something else. Secrets that his beautiful lips had surely sealed away for far too long. “Let’s go,” he walked outside, said goodbye to the restaurant owner, and led her to his car. But once inside, he stopped before starting the engine, frozen yet again as another realization hit him.

“What? Something's wrong?”

“You… uhm… might recognize my brother, actually.”

“Why, was he a customer at the café?” Y/n laughed, fastening her seat belt. This whole thing was so sudden, so random, she just wanted to burst laughing. She felt good even if she didn’t quite understand everything that was happening.

“It was the health inspector,” he finally started the car and backed out of the parking lot and onto the road in one smooth, sexy motion.

“Oh. Wait, he’s a health inspector?”

“Not… Really?”

“Dean.”

Silence.

“Dean, did you fake the inspection?”

“Not really?”

“Dean!”

“Please. I’ll explain everything once we arrive. Do you trust me?”

For a second, Dean took his eyes off the road and looked into hers, and she held the gaze for the entire second and saw nothing but honesty. Then, he turned his head and broke eye contact, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see his right hand raised slightly towards her, waiting to be picked up.

“Yeah,” she finally said, gently placing her hand in his. It was warm. Comfortable. And how he squeezed, tenderly but also firmly, showed worry about losing her. “It might be crazy and stupid, but I trust you, Dean Winchester.”

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#dean winchester fanfiction #jacklesversebingo23 #hurt comfort bingo #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x f!reader #baby dean winchester #supernatural dean #supernatural dean x f!reader #supernatural dean winchester #supernatural dean winchester x female!reader #fluff #barista!dean #barista!reader

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adeliadrawstuff · 1 month

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Dean get's stuck inside Resident Evil 4 !

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sunzyn · 8 months

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#dean winchester #dean winchester icons #dean winchester aesthetic #dean winchester supernatural #supernatural #supernatural icons #supernatural aesthetic #supernatural dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen ackles icons #jensen ackles aesthetic #icons #aesthetic #aesthetic icons #boys aesthetic icons #boys aesthetic #series tv

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Note

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers.

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her.

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her.

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying.

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly.

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?"

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car."

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -"

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?"

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!"

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four.

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?"

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy."

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?"

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!"

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly.

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge.

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles.

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday."

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word.

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?"

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?"

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls.

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking.

Sam huffs, "Who's that?"

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N.

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead.

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..."

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again.

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it.

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam.

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!"

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that."

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips.

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge.

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him.

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks.

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know."

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on.

"What the-," Dean says.

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks.

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them.

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing.

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge.

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?"

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water.

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her.

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him.

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!"

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit.

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing."

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him.

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest.

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead.

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static.

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths.

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away.

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest.

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue.

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him.

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop."

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N.

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest.

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again.

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor.

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be."

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits.

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks."

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start."

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks.

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods.

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters.

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-"

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N.

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers.

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head.

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation."

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge."

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me."

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

@wayardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @noodledoodlebug @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @signrunsavestheday @flamencodiva @roseblue373

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#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan fic #little sister Winchester #angst #supernatural dean winchester #sister!winchester #3rd person pov

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soaringeag1e · 6 months

Text

Escape {69}

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Secrets

Words: 1,945

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Patreon

9 Months Later

A couple of quiet knocks gets Dean to look up from the picture frame in his hand and he smiles at the man in the doorway. Feeling even more at home with the familiar face.

“You settling in, okay?” Dean slowly begins to nod as he looks around the room. “Feel like you never left?” It’s then that Dean’s eyes look through the window to Bobby’s right, his smile fading a little.

“Kind of.”

“Yeah.” The elder breathes before taking a few more steps into the office.

“I’m surprised you never gave my office up.” he admits, setting the picture he was holding down on his desk.

“Well,” Bobby shrugs. “There was a part of me that knew you would be back.”

“What about the part that didn't know?” His father figure remains silent for a moment, seeming to think about the answer though Dean is sure he knows exactly what he was feeling.

“I thought that maybe you needed the out and that you might go and find something else that made you happy.” Hearing that warms Dean’s heart.

“What if I did?” he asks, just curious on what would happen if the last option actually happened.

“Well, then I would give your office up. Eventually.” They both share a light laugh. “That or turn it into a storage room.” Dean grins at his boss before setting another picture on his desk and then reaching back into the box to grab the next frame that needed a home in his office. "Well, you know where to find me if you need something." Bobby informs him as he slowly backs out of the room. "And uh…" he pauses, getting Dean to look at him. "Let's try not to get shot on our first day back, huh?" Despite the darkness of the past year, Dean’s able to chuckle at the joke. Grateful, Bobby grins and then leaves Dean to finish getting settled.

His smile grows a bit as he looks down at the picture in his hand, his thumb gently brushing over the woman in the white dress as he lets that good memory play in his head. Not long after, he sets the frame down, right where he knows he'll always be able to see it.

Continuing to empty his box, he gets everything set up the way he likes and then he takes a seat in his chair, the familiar comfort almost feeling new for how long he's been gone. As he looks across the office and his eyes land on his former partner's desk on the other side of the glass, Dean has to take a minute. He knew coming back wouldn't be easy but he also knew that Eddie wouldn't want him to give up his career because of what happened. Dean was good at what he did and he knew this is where he belonged despite losing an amazing partner and friend.

Deans eyes gently close and he inhales deeply through his nose. His attempt to push away his emotions isn't the greatest but it's enough for him to carry on with his day.

As his computer wakes up after its long slumber, Dean's surprised to see that everything was the same as he left it. Files were sitting in the same spot on his desktop, his background picture was still that of a Zeppelin concert he attended years before he got his badge. Bobby really left his space untouched.

Clicking on a few links, Dean waits patiently while some documents get uploaded on his computer. It's then that he catches his phone lighting up out of the corner of his eye, the notification getting him to grab the device and investigate more.

Movement was detected at his front door, the new doorbell camera working to its full potential. Though, after finding out that Cassidy tampered with the previous camera, it isn't that it didn't work, it's just that he had skills that Dean never knew about. It turned out that the day you had heard someone knocking on the door was in fact Cassidy testing out his plan and clearly it worked way too well.

As the little camera shows his front porch, Dean grins. His brother Sam stood there in a loose shirt and his infamous jogging pants. A few seconds later you had come into view wearing your jogging pants and a hot pink workout top, locking the door before looking into the camera and blowing a kiss.

"Love you."

His smile growing, Dean lightly presses the speaker button on his phone. "Love you too." You smile brightly knowing he has an eye on you and then the two of you turn to step off the porch. Sam takes a second to look into the camera himself, waving to his brother before he takes off jogging to catch up with you.

Knowing that you're safe with Sam, Dean is able to relax a bit more before he dives into his first day back at work.

The two of you would usually spend an average of thirty minutes on your morning jogs. It didn't happen everyday considering the fact that Sam had to work most mornings, but when you both had some free time, it was definitely on the to do list. Another must have was a pit stop on the way back home. A nice little coffee shop run by a sweet older couple that have lived in town since they were kids. You and Sam felt like family going in there every time you were able to go out and you loved it.

“Oh! And can you make that decaf, please?” Sam looks at you a little confused, though you don’t notice as you’re paying for the two drinks. But as the barista nods and then steps away to start your drinks, Sam clears his throat, watching you put your card away.

“Decaf?” As if you didn’t hear him, you then pulled your phone out checking to see if you’ve heard from Dean at all, but everything seemed quiet. “When do you get decaf?” After slipping your phone into the pocket on the side of your pants, you look up at your friend, shrugging softly.

“Since I don’t need the extra kick.” your smile widens a bit before you step around him, waiting at the far counter for your order to be done. But Sam? He’s stuck in his spot for a few more beats, his mind fast tracking through his years of knowing you before he spins on his heel and moves to the end of the counter with you.

“Hold on,” Placing his palm on the counter, he looks at you with doubt in his eyes. “I’ve seen you wired off your ass before and you’d still take some extra shots over decaf.” A soft sigh falls from your lips and you look away, watching the barista make your drink. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” You say with an annoyance already in your tone.

“Y/N…”

“Shit, Sam, I’m fine!” The little outburst has him pull back a bit, looking at you with concern and slight disbelief and that clearly deflates you. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m a little tired and I think when I get back home I’m going to take a nap, so I just don’t want any caffeine right now. It’s not a big deal.” It’s then that Sam’s drink is set up on the counter and he reaches for it, but none of that takes away the concern he has.

“You feeling alright though?”

“Yeah.” you answer in a whisper before reaching for your drink and thanking the team behind the counter.

“Hey,” Lightly grabbing your elbow, Sam’s face is soft, his expression even softer, almost heartbreakingly so. “You can tell me anything. You remember that, right?”

“Of course I do.” your voice is as gentle as his touch. Despite that response and the fact that you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, something didn’t feel quite right. But he didn’t want to push you anymore than he already did. “Is it okay if we start heading back?”

“Sure.” Though still concerned, Sam nods and gives you a soft smile. One that disappears as you start to head for the door.

Unfortunately for you it wasn’t only Sam that could see something was going on with you. Over the next few days Dean had picked up on the slight differences in your behaviors as well. You expressed to him and Sam both that you were just tired. Maybe you were coming down with something or maybe you had some kind of bug that just knocked the energy out of you. Either way, Dean took care of you as such. He tried to let you rest as much as possible, even brought you food in bed to keep you from exerting yourself too much. He begged you to go see a doctor multiple times and it wasn’t until just the night before last that you had told him that you in fact went to see someone. The only thing he didn’t know now was the fact that you knew what was wrong with you. You just weren’t sure how to tell him.

So as the sun slowly rose, the bright orange beams coming through the blinds in the bedroom, Dean's fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt. His eyes kept lifting to the mirror, catching sight of you sleeping peacefully under the covers behind him. He used to close the bathroom door while he got ready for work in the morning, but you usually couldn’t be disturbed, and if you were, he loved the sight of your sleepy self sitting up and smiling at him from the bed. Though that was always dangerous in itself because he would just want to call in on those days and climb back in bed with you.

Once his buttons were done and he fixed his collar, he doused himself with a little cologne and then turned to leave the room. Slipping his dress jacket off the hanger, he slowly makes his way towards the bed, smiling softly as your face comes into view.

“I love your cologne.” your voice barely makes it out of the blankets, but it’s enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t think I put that much on.” A low moan escapes as you stretch under the covers. “Is it too much?” You disagree with a light shake of your head and a low grumble.

“It’s perfect.” you smile up at him as he sits at the edge of the bed and leans over you. A deep gravelly hum rolls up his chest just as his lips meet yours.

“How are you feeling?” he asks in between kisses and you answer in the same way.

“A little better.”

“Yeah?” Kissing you once more, this one lasts a little longer before he pulls away and just looks into your eyes. “Have you heard back from the doctor yet?”

“Not yet.” you lie as best you can, feeling guilty for not telling him the truth, but you aren’t ready to tell him. You can see how much it’s bothering him, especially after that last answer. He’s clearly concerned and of course looks worried which makes you feel worse.

“Maybe you should call them? Check in with ‘em.”

“I can try.” you lie again, hoping it’ll make him feel a little better. You can tell he’s pleased with your answer but that fear won't go away until you tell him what’s going on. The unknown is always a scary place, but sometimes the known can be just as scary.

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happy74827 · 2 years

Text

Haunted Memory

[Winchester Family & Winchester!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after 10 years, the Winchesters can’t let go of the past (Written in Dean’s POV).

WC: 1,893

Category: Angst, Character Death

To be honest, I have no idea what made my mind come up with this lmao, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Feel free to reblog and drop a few comments, I’d love to hear what you think about this one.

『••✎••』

Dean stood between them with tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. His body froze as he was mortified by what had been said.

Just moments prior, he was begging his father and brother to stop arguing. Begging for a moment of peace between them but it was futile. He was a ghost, unable to be seen and heard. All he was able to do was watch and witness the argument enter chaos.

“Sam,” The eldest Winchester growled, fury hidden in his dark chocolate eyes. His hair was all matted, his body worn out from the current stress they were under. Dean could tell his dad was tired, tired of everything. “Don’t start this now.”

“No, Dad, I think I will.” Sam slammed the duffle bag on the ground, his hands gripping the end bar of the bed. A mash of green and purple radiated his knuckles as he clenched his palms to fists. “You think I wouldn’t find out? The stuff from Bobby? You’re planning on bringing the demon here, aren’t you? To have some… stupid macho showdown.”

“I have a plan, Sam—“

“That is exactly my point! Dean is dying, and you have a plan!” The young Winchester’s eyes flashed angrily, his grip tightening with every word. “You know… you care more about this demon than you do your own sons!”

At this, John exploded. Fury blinded him as he sat up, pointing his index finger at the boy. “Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean.”

“How?! How’s revenge gonna help him?!“ Sam’s cheeks flushed, and his facial muscles became rigid. His hand released the bar, momentarily, before slamming back down onto it once again. “You’re not thinking about anyone but yourself, it’s the same selfish obsession.”

“Come on guys, don’t do this!” Dean pleaded, his eyes begging towards Sam, but nothing could be heard.

“It’s funny you know what, I thought this was your obsession too.” John argued, “this demon… it killed your mother, killed your girlfriend—“

“…but it didn’t kill her, now did it?”

The sounds of footsteps running back and forth. That could be heard all from within the room. The silence was deafening. Dean swore he could hear his own heart shatter into a million pieces as his eyes glossed over at his brother who, he himself, had to take a minute to realize what came out of his mouth.

Dean knew and understood the pain that Sam carried. John was never a good father to them, he was more of a drill sergeant than anything, but deep down he knew his father loved him. Loved all of you in his own twisted little way.

That’s why when Sam spat out that sentence, it stung him like venom as his angry self conscious knew it would.

Their sister, you, was an untouchable topic. It pained each and every one of them to think about it. Even the mention of it made Dean want to drown himself in alcohol to forget. Of course it never worked. He never forgot. He couldn’t. It was deeply engrained in his mind.

As Dean recalled, his 16-year old self was helping his dad pack the Impala for another drive. For another motel and another hunt. John had just wrapped up a werewolf hunt, killing its pack, before coming back to collect you all.

However, his father had unknowingly made the fatal mistake of not double tapping them, causing them to follow him home, leading them straight to you and Sam.

Dean remembered the gunshots and the screams of terror coming from the third story. He remembered the exact way his father knew the sound of his daughter, you, at the speed of a snap — reaching for his shotgun in the trunk compartment before storming up the stairs in lightning speed. Dean had followed close behind, not knowing what else to do.

John had loaded his shotgun “Terminator Style” before kicking the door open, revealing the horrific sight that Dean was never able to leave behind.

Sam was crying uncontrollably in the corner, petrified, as a werewolf laid on top of you. His claws deep in your chest. Dean had scanned the room, finding two more dead on the floor with a pistol residing just a couple feet from your bloodied-up hand.

In a half of a second, he had pieced together what had happened.

The window, which allowed your screams to echo down to the car, was infiltrated by the three werewolves that John had evidently missed. Two of them probably rushed Sam which resulted in silver-bullet headshots by you with dad’s pistol that he’d must’ve left on the table. The third, however, must’ve caught you by surprise, resulting in the pistol being knocked out of your reach.

John moved like a machine, rapidly shooting and reloading as he approached you, causing Dean to drag sobbing 11-year old Sam behind him to safety.

The werewolf looked up, growling and hissing with its teeth before one of John’s bullets went through its eyes, causing it to release its grip on you. After a few more bullets to the chest, Dean watched as his father pulled the corpse off of you, dropping his gun, before encasing you in his arms.

“Sweetheart, h-honey..” John’s voice was shaken, quivering as he took in the sight you. Dean couldn’t forget the amount of blood that stained the carpet, stained the furniture. It was nauseating.

He could still hear your whimpers and silent cries in his mind. You couldn’t speak or move, only gasping for air as dad started to apply a tourniquet with his belt against your gushing leg, one of the many wounds you had. Your name came out as whispers as he pleaded you to stay awake for him.

Dean still remembered the urgency in his dad’s voice. It was shaken and panicked, a sound he’d never heard from his father before. “Dean! Get me the towels out of the bathroom… all of them, now!”

After finishing the tourniquet, John had wrapped and packed your entire stomach with towels like you were a pillow case. Dean eventually had to drag Sam out of his frozen state by the arm, following his dad who rushed down the stairs, gingerly carrying you within his arms.

The drive to the hospital was John going about thirty miles over the speeding limit, barking orders at the boys to keep pressure on your stomach. Dean’s mind finally caught up with him as his hands found themselves covered with blood. You were dying.

His baby sister was dying.

And that you did, three nights later. And the bitch of it was? You had just turned fourteen.

Two weeks prior, you held an untamable smile when Dean was able to scrap enough extra money for the camera you had always wanted. Now, that birthday was a haunted memory. A joyful memory that was replaced with darkness.

Your heart gave out when Dean held your hand, begging for you to pull through. In a matter of seconds he and Sam were thrown out of the room, their eyes bloodshot with tears as the nurses and doctors shut the door and closed the binds.

The entire time of you being in the hospital, dad had only visited you twice — the first time was when you had gotten out of surgery. After seeing you in the hospital bed, all broken, he couldn’t bare to look at you. His heart sank at the constant reminder that he failed his daughter. His only job was to protect his kids and he failed. And for that, he had Bobby watch the boys for those long nights while dad sat there in the waiting room, refusing to see the pain he had inflicted.

The second time he saw you was when you were pronounced dead.

One thing about John Winchester was that he never allowed his kids to see him break down, especially little Sam. To him, he needed to be strong for them. Because in his eyes, “someone had to.” It was part of the reason why he’d dumped you all on Bobby’s porch so much. When his walls were about to shatter, he made sure you were all out of sight.

But that night, he cracked. His walls broke down and Dean witnessed it all.

Bobby had taken Sam to get some ice cream, offering Dean to join, but he’d declined wanting to stay behind for you. If there was a chance you’d wake up again, he wanted to be there when you did.

Dean was sitting in the waiting room when the doctors called it. He was unaware for a few minutes, waiting anxiously as his father disappeared into the hall with the doctor. It was about five minutes after midnight — twenty minutes later — when he heard crashes and sobs coming from the mens bathroom.

Dean quietly left his chair to investigate the noise to which he had soon regretted when he had peeked inside. His father was in the midst of smashing the sink’s mirror against the marble flooring, following with broken and angry sobs. The entire bathroom was destroyed. Toilet paper were covering each stall. The floors were covered in glass from the other mirrors with toilet paper holders that were smashed to oblivion… never in his life had Dean witnessed his father shattered from the inside out.

It was at that moment that your older brother realized you didn’t make it through the night. His father’s actions were confirmation enough.

Dean never spoke a word to this about Sam or John. He kept his discovery silent, acting shocked with Sam once Bobby confirmed the sad news. He had also found out later it was Bobby and dad’s old pal, Deacon, who paid the bill and the property damage.

After the burial, he never saw dad like that again. He became cold, colder than before. John had failed and so he practically dropped the father act completely, becoming a drill sergeant. Every chance he got, John shoved the hunter life and survival instincts down his kids’ throats. Never letting them forget it.

From there he’d done some pretty awful things, but the one thing he never did was blame your death onto them. Your death was a “horrid accident” as Bobby said, stating that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Being the older brother, he had to constantly remind those words to Sam as the guilt for standing in the corner, watching the werewolf do nothing but tear your insides out, took over. A lot of those nights ended in Sam crying uncontrollably in his brother’s arms, faintly listening to Dean hum Hey Jude in his ear.

The memory made Dean shed a tear as he glanced back towards his broken family.

John had remained still, the anger long washed away at the slightest mention of you. It was evident the guilt still haunted him.

When Sam started up the fight again, bringing another past incident up, Dean drawed the line and surprised himself by Swayze-ing the glass that the nurse had left for their father. The two breathing Winchester’s paused rather quickly, with the youngest realizing that it hadn’t just been the two of them in there alone.

And unbeknownst to Dean, he wasn’t the only non-breathing Winchester in the room either.

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nighwingsdiscordkitten · 1 month

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So this is what I have so far on the Dean Winchester character analysis it's a bit all over because I wrote it while on the bud home but I'm writing it in a notebook of mine in a more clear and organized way then gonna re type it once I get it done

Also if you guys don't mind pls add your own character analysis of your own or just things you've noticed during the series because I really don't wanna mischaracterize him and accidentally make him into a complete different person especially since Dean's whole character is literally so important to me

Also I don't want anyone to think I'm gonna excuse the bad things Dean has done to Sam, Cas, and also Jack. I wanna include the fact that he isn't that great of a person and i still wanna hold him accountable for all the bad things he has done throughout the series

How Dean Winchester is. Given the parental role and also the more “women” or ‘feminin’ role in the series and also by the fandom.

Firstly we will talk about the fact that from a very young age (four years old) when his mother died in the fire he was the one to grab Sam from his crib and ran out of the house while his father stayed back. We see this in the very first episode and was also mentioned in one of the later seasons, growing up he was given the parental role because John (the father) was to busy with ‘grieving” his dead wife to the point that he threw himself and his family into the hunter life leave Dean and Sam to grow up on the road with no real home, they stayed in dirty old motels and barely had money to live off of, you can see this by the fact that they never had Christmas and I know that’s not a very ‘big deal’ BUT the fact that Dean had to sneak off and steal from a random home to give Sam some type of Christmas and also the fact that Dean was arrested for stealing some peanut butter bread and then was sent to Sunny’s home or wayward boys. There was also hints that Dean barley ever got to eat and often have his food to Sam so he wouldn’t go hungry at night, I don’t know if it was ever actually mentioned but it was hinted in episodes where Dean would have flashbacks or it was hinted, you can also notice this with how Dean eats his food, it’s more animalistic and rushed while Sam eats more calmer and also less, that is because Sam never had to really worry because Dean always fed him but Dean never knew when his next meal was so I believe it is a trauma response. Another trauma response is also is his savior complex, in the show we often see Dean more concern for Sam then himself and and could also be a readily for his own self destructive tendencies but we’ll talk about that later- since Dean has taken care of Sam his whole life Dean took on the parental role naturally and also started to relaty on Sam to be there constantly because Sam is his only constant figure in his life much how Dean is Sam’s only constant figure as well. Why is Sam and Dean each others only constant figure even tho they both have John tho? Well that is because John wasn’t the parental figure they needed. They only could rely on each other and no one else, sure they had Bobby but they don’t show him much in their flashback so I don’t know how much of a role he had in their childhood because he only really shows up more in their adult life, I do belive Bobby was there in their childhood because we see Bobby and Dean playing catch in season 7 when Bobby dies but that’s pretty much the only scene we get with Bobby and younger Dean every other scene is when Dean is a adult, so that makes me belive even more that Sam was deans only constant and the same with Dean for Sam. Now, about the savior complex, there are multiple examples of Dean wanting to risk his life for same and wanting to ‘save’ Sam for example

•Dean welling his soul in season 1 to same Sam

• Dean wanting to save Sam from ruby and his demon blood addiction

•Dean wanting to say yes to Michel

•Dean trying to get rid of the mark of Cain

•Giving himself up to Amra

•Even giving his own childhood up for Sam

Etc (look up more of deans self scarification)

We also see Deans self destructive tendencies by the fact he pushes people away, him being a alcoholic, him hiding his own traumas and emotions resulting him to have break downs or out bursts of rage because that was what he grew up on. He never learned how to let his anger out in normal healthy ways I believe that was because of John and how he was raised because we constantly see John being abusive and taking his anger out of Dean.

Again this is super all over the place but that’s because it’s still the rough draft I’m planing on rewriting all of this to make more sense and also I still wanna add more things to this as will because There’s so much more I wanna talk about but just can’t put it in words exactly

#dean winchester #dean winchester character study #spn #spn fandom #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #sam winchester #supernatural #spn cast #spn castiel #castiel #Sam and Dean #spn sam winchester #spn dean winchester #supernatural sam winchester #supernatural dean winchester #supernatural characters

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yunggoblin · 9 months

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Love Bug - Dean Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean gets a cold and Sam doesn’t want to take care of his older brother. So it’s up to you to take care of the sick Winchester.

Warnings: Sickness, Sick!Dean Fluff, Nothing too much.

Word Count: 1,299

You sipped on your warm mug full of coffee while sitting in the kitchen. It was around six in the morning, the sun slowly rising, birds singing and the smell of your favorite coffee was in the air. The world seemed to be at peace for once, until a loud cough erupted throughout the hall. You’ve been hearing that scratchy cough all throughout the night. Sighing softly, rubbing your tired eyes. Sam walked into the kitchen looking just as tired as you, his shirt up over his nose not breathing in the air. “Kept you up too, huh?” You questioned, sipping on your morning beverage.

"Yeah." Sam sighed, grabbing the coffee pot he poured himself a cup, adding sugar and cream in it. "I say we drop Dean’s ass at a hotel until this leaves his system.” Sam said truthfully. You frowned at the youngest brother.

"Samuel, that's a rude thing to say. He’s sick, he needs sleep and support through this. Not moving around and getting out of bed.” Just as if it was ‘opposite day’, Dean shuffled his way into the kitchen wearing his black and red plaid robe and black slippers. The tip of his nose bright red and runny, pale yet clammy face, dark bags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in days.

"Morning.” He coughed into his arm, shuffling towards the coffee making you and Sam quickly step away.

"Dean, you need to be in bed.“ You announced.

"I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, trying to get the fluids out. “Just a cold.” He mumbled as he leaned against the counter, out of energy.

"Dean, go to bed. I’ll bring you some soup and tea.“ You snagged the coffee pot from his hand and placed it underneath the machine. Dean groaned but didn’t say another word as he shuffled back out of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath. As Dean walked out, so did Sam, making sure his older brother went back to bed.

You opened up the cabinet, going up on your tippy toes and reached up for the nearest tomato soup which was on the top shelf. Finally, your fingers wrapped around the metal can and brought it down, grabbing a pot and placing it on the stove you started up the flames letting the pot heat up and pouring the red thick liquid into the silver pot.

"Alright, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Sam announced, tossing the strap of his bag filled with clothes over his shoulder.

You gave him a smile with a small laugh, your attention going back to the soup, stirring it. “You’re really leaving because of a cold that Dean has?” You questioned.

"That is not a damn cold, he has the flu. Now, I’ll be down the road at that motel. Need anything just call.“ Sam said and left on that note. You rolled your eyes at his silliness, once the soup started to boil you poured it into a bowl. You placed a spoon in the soup and poured some orange juice into a cup, walking down the hallway towards Dean’s room in a careful manner so that you wouldn’t spill the meal.

You knocked softly and opened the door, "Hey, it’s me.” You told him and opened the door widely to see the poor male in his bed. Dean sat up as you placed the glass of orange juice on the night stand by his bed and the bowl of soup on the blanket that covered his lap. “If you need anything just text me, when your done get some sleep.” You reminded him, running your fingers through his messy hair and kissing his forehead. He really must have the flu, he was burning up.

"Thank you, Y/N.” He gave you a weak smile, like he used all of his energy just to give you a kind gesture.

"Get some rest, big guy.” You smiled and walked out of his room, shutting the door softly.

As time passed you did chores, disinfecting things to kill the virus if it was attached to anything in the bunker, doing laundry and the dishes. You put away the last plate and walked down the hallway back to Dean’s room, knocking softly. You opened up the door to see a passed out Dean stretched out on his bed. You smiled softly and tucked him in nice and tight, turning off the tv that was on a cop show and felt his forehead once again, still a bit warm. You grabbed his empty glass of juice and half way empty soup and walked out, shutting the door softly.

As you put the wet clothes in the drier you sighed heavily, with your back aching. Today has been slow, no calls about hunts, no sign of Sam getting in trouble, no nothing. Grabbing the large blanket from the dryer, you made your way once more to Dean’s room this time he was getting dressed into new pajamas, wet hair. You realized he took a shower. “Oh hey.” Dean yawned as he crawled back into his memory foam bed.

“Hey, I was just checking up on you.” You smiled and felt his forehead, he felt cool from the shower, he had a bit more color back into his cheeks and nose not as stuffed. “You’re looking better.” You said truthfully. “I brought you a fresh blanket, straight out of the dryer.”

“I feel better.” Dean sighed softly, snuggling down on his bed. “Thanks for not ditching me, like Sammy.” He chuckled softly. “Hmm.” He hummed as he rubbed his face against the soft plush cover, laying it out on his bed as he tossed the sickly blanket towards the hamper.

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes and smile, of course the neat freak little brother dipped knowing there was a sickness in the bunker. “You’re welcome, sorry Sam left. He didn’t want to get sick.” You tucked Dean in about to leave but he quickly grabbed your wrist.

“No, please stay.” Dean begged, you bit your lip knowing the chances of getting sick. Dean scooted over for you to lay beside him. Sighing softly you nodded your head, climbing underneath the covers and laid down. Your back pressing up against his front. He was warm like a heating pad. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath making you break out in goosebumps as it hit your skin.

Few days later Sammy came back like he promised. “Hey man, you look good.” Sam chuckled as he hugged Dean who was drinking coffee in the kitchen.

“I'm feeling damn good.” Dean smiled and hugged his taller brother back.

“Where’s Y/N?” Sam asked, looking around, trying to find the mother-like women.

“I’m right here.” You sniffed, shuffling into the room with a blanket wrapped around you. “I think you got me sick.” Coughing into your fist, pulling the blanket closer to your body, shivering.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” Sam grabbed his bag and quickly left the bunker like it was contaminated.

Dean looked over at you, smiling softly. “Looks like I’ll be the one looking after you,” He walked towards you, kissing your heated cheeks. “Get back to bed, I’ll make you some soup.” He said softly, his hand placing against your forehead and stroking down your cheek to cup it. “My sweet little girl, sick all because of me.” Dean leaned down and pressed his full lips against your warm forehead.

“By the way we keep kissing each other sick and all we’re never going to get this flu out of the bunker.” You teased him.

“Sick or not, I’ll never stop kissing you.” Dean hummed, leaning down and pressing his lips against your soft ones.

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ajvocals43 · 1 year

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Mine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 1058

Warnings: Slight swearing, slight smuttiness (if you squint), bad writing probably, body image issues

A/n: Another birthday fic I wrote for the wonderful Dean Winchester. Also can be read as a prequel to the fic I wrote last year: Birthday

"Up."

"No.” He gave me a look that I knew to cut off, “Dean, remember my thing about sitting on things that aren't made for sitting on?"

"It's a metal counter top. I promise there is no chance of you breaking it." And then he took matters into his own hands and lifted me onto the island himself. I had tried not to but I couldn't help the sound that came out of me at the feeling of being picked up. I knew he was strong but I didn't expect that.

"Dean are you-"

He didn't let me finish. "Y/n, I already told you. Your gorgeous body is not nor has it ever been ‘too heavy’. I would tell you if it were different, okay?"

“No, you wouldn't.” I protested, “I don't get this way for no reason, I'm big, I know that. I-”

He knew me well enough that he already knew where I was going with this. “Yeah. Big… beautiful… and mine.” He pulled me into him before saying, “I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, there is nothing about you that doesn't make me crazy about you. There's a reason that you are the longest relationship I've ever had. You and Sam are my everything. I wouldn't trade either of you for the world. Don't ever doubt that. Now sit there and let me feed you cake because it’s my birthday and I feel like feeding my gorgeous girlfriend.”

And that was all he wanted to say apparently because the next thing I knew, there was a piece of cake on a fork in front of my face. I didn't fight my smile, opening my mouth anyway to let him feed me. And I wouldn't lie, that cake was amazing. Some kind of mix of chocolate and vanilla that melted on the tongue and I couldn't help the moan that escaped at the taste.

When my eyes finally opened again, (though I'm not sure when they closed) I found Dean with heat in his eyes. Even after how long we’d been together, I was surprised that I could be the cause of that look from him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one feeding you because it’s your birthday?” I was scrambling for a subject change. There was too much to do between the pie in the oven and the party waiting to be put together in the next room. I didn't have time to act on his look, no matter how much I wanted to.

He shrugged before saying “You know me well enough that I wouldn't eat it, as close as Sam seems to think it is. Especially since you made me a pie that is currently in the oven.” He leaned in to seal his lips to mine in a soft kiss that made my heart flutter with its sweetness.

It was then that the timer on my phone went off for me to pull said pie out of the oven. When I straightened from the oven, placing the pie on top of a hot pad, Dean came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That smells delicious.” he groaned, “My favorite kind of present.”

“Well that's good, considering the other one.” I mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. Shit, did I say that out loud? “Y/n? What's wrong?”

“Okay so you do have a present from me, but I got it impulsively and I thought it was a good idea but now I'm not so sure…” I tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” He seemed concerned. I felt the heat creep up my neck as I tried to find a way to explain the nonsense that had come out of my mouth.

I didn't end up saying anything. Instead, I took his hand that had been stroking my hip underneath my shirt and moved it up to the lace that covered my breast.

He groaned. “I stand corrected. Happy birthday to me.” he murmured in my ear. A shiver ran down my spine at the tone of his voice. That heat was back. His lips started placing slow kisses along my neck, his hands roamed my body, feeling the lace and killing my brain cells. Specifically the ones that would keep me from letting this go further. It took all the strength I had to fight off my arousal and Dean.

“No. Not now.” I said softly.

“What’s wrong?” it was like a switch had flipped. In an instant all the heat was gone, replaced by confusion and worry.

“I don't have time. I have to go to the store, remember?” I tried to pull out of his arms again to no avail.

“To hell with the store.” he nuzzled his face back into the crook of my neck.

“No, remember? I have to go get the stuff for burgers. Isn't that what you wanted for your birthday dinner?”

“But you take forever when you go to the store.” he groaned and I laughed both at the tickling sensation and at his attitude.

“Unless you want to go, I have to.” I told him, hoping he’d take the bait so that I could call Sam and the gang in to help set up the surprise party I had planned for tonight. His arms disappeared from my waist and he was walking over to the table to grab his coat and keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the store,” he said plainly. “I'll be back in half an hour.”

“You're ridiculous.” I said, shaking my head. I hoped he believed my acting skills because otherwise I was screwed and this surprise was ruined. Luckily, he hadnt seemed to notice anything and with a quick kiss to my lips, went down the hall towards the garage.

And then he scared the shit out of me when he popped his head back in the kitchen saying, “Don't think I’ve forgotten about my present.” I had to laugh as I ran to catch up and walk him to his car (to make sure he got there this time). I waited until I couldn't see his car in the garage anymore before I texted Sam.

We’re a go

To which I got the response:

You're lucky he’s in love with you.

Masterlist

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wild-lavender-rose · 5 months

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Confessions

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After your boyfriend breaks up with you, your friends Sam and Dean help to put the pieces back together in a very unexpected way.

Warnings: Reference to break up, collapse, mild language

Note: I started this a couple years ago shortly after a break up and finally decided to finish it. It’s not my usual quality of work some of the lines feel out of character and it’s super angsty and cheesy idk but I really wanted to get it finished and out of my drafts, so enjoy?

Sam and Dean looked up from their vampire research when you entered the bunker, their brows furrowing with concern as they took in your glassy eyes and messed up hair.

“Hey,” Dean called.

“Hey.” You gave a nod, dropping the heavy backpack you had been carrying with a thud.

“You okay?” Sam was already pushing back his chair.

“I...” You shrugged off your jacket, gaze averting to the floor. “He...He broke up with me.”

“What?” The chairs squeaked as the brothers stood.

“He thought, with us bein’ hunters and all...Didn’t want to be each other’s weakness,” you took a step forward only to have your legs give out, causing you to sink down to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Honey, woah,” Dean came around the table to kneel beside you, Sam close behind. “Easy, it’s okay.”

“I can never get them to stay.” You whispered, your head in your hands as Dean sat behind you and pulled you into a hug. “What's wrong with me?”

“It’s not you, he’s just an ass.” Sam knelt in front of you, hand resting on your leg. “Hunters suck at commitment.”

“I don't, you don’t.” You leaned back into Dean’s hug, tucking yourself into him as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s not your fault, baby.” Dean ran his hand through your hair and held you close.

“No, I, I shouldn’t have even tried. He said, that ass,” you shoved your sleeve across your eyes, trying desperately to regain composure. “He said that he was tired of sharing me with you and Sam. That I loved you more than him. But, I tried to tell him we were just friends, but he didn’t believe me.” You shook your head against a fresh wave of tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Why?” Sam asked, his voice soft.

“Because,” you looked at the floor, hot shame flooding over you. “Because it’s true.” You whispered. “I love you and I love Sam.”

Dean’s hand froze in your hair, his body stiffening. You could feel him looking over your head at Sam, no doubt having a whole conversation in that nonverbal brother code of theirs. You hated yourself for saying anything. Now it was all over. Your friendship would be awkward and stilted now. No stolen hugs and nights of falling asleep on their shoulders during long car rides under the guise of simple friendship. They would know your intentions now. Know that you loved them.

“Sorry,” you whimpered, starting to untangle yourself from the two of them.

The last thing you expected was for Dean’s arms to tighten around you. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

“To bed.” You pushed weakly at his arms, not truly wanting to escape his warmth. “Tomorrow I gotta find a spell that makes you forget what I just said,”

“You hear her, Sammy? Our girl wants to go to bed.”

“Come here,” in one smooth motion Sam pulled you into his arms and picked you up off the floor. “Whose bed do you want to be in?”

“Mine.” Dean grinned. “It’s got memory foam.”

“I don't, wait, but you,” you covered your mouth, hardly daring to breathe. “You...both of you?”

“From the day we met you.” Sam kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you to bed. Coming, Dean?”

“Right behind you.” Dean got to his feet and followed you and Sam with a mischievous grin.

And that was how the three of you started the beginning of forever.

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 11 months

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One Day, I’ll Say Hello

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: It keeps happening. Whenever he goes, Dean seems to bump into the same girl. Every time, he finds himself unable to speak to her. When he meets her again at the beach, everything finally makes sense.

Warning: Mention of grief, a bit of angst, crying, car accident, but also fluff, crack, and lots of sun bathing

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Word Count: 2869

A/n: Hello everyone! So this is the first fic I’m posting after my long hiatus! This is for @smellingofpoetry writing challenge, with the prompt “Feeling the warmth on your naked skin”. Big thank you to @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior for helping with correction, the title, and cheering me up!

"I'm starting to believe you're following me."

The voice startled him instantly, and his first instinct was to put his hand on his belt. But he found it empty, he left his gun in the car. Regardless, he didn't need it, not after he recognized who the voice belonged to.

"Well," a smirk drew across his face as he walked over to the source of the voice. "Looks like even fate wants us to stay together." Giving a wink he thought was devastating, Dean quickly lost his smile when he noticed the girl's expression. It clearly wasn’t the time to bother her, not again. "Oh, uhm, sorry, I think my flirting skills are rusty, I'll leave you be."

"No!" She sounded rushed, scared, even, of being left alone. "You're not bothering me. Stay, I'd love to have some company.”

The big, seductive smile back on his face, Dean took a few steps towards the girl. The sand was warm under his bare feet, and he accepted the feel of the grains sliding between his toes with joy. With each step, he felt like he was sinking deeper into the sand. But the closer he got to her, the warmer he felt.

Close enough but leaving a respectable distance between them, he dropped down to the ground, and set his shoes next to him. Then, in silence, they just enjoyed the moment.

It was very nice. The sun was beating down hard on their heads, but neither of them minded. It was a feeling he craved, and he laid on his back in the sand to let the warm rays settle on to the bit of exposed skin he offered up. The sounds of the waves moving in the distance, brought a calm sensation in his body.

“You know,” her voice finally broke the silence. “You would enjoy the sun a lot more if you were in a swimsuit.”

At these words, Dean smiled. "If you wanna see me naked, you can just say."

A laugh followed his comment. "Of course. My first desire when I meet someone is to see them naked. Nice try."

"For the record," he turned his head towards her, ignoring her last statement, "you're not really dressed for the beach either.”

The girl turned her head to stare at him, then lifted her sunglasses up to contemplate what she was wearing. Her shorts ended a little above the knee, and she had her tank top pulled up a bit, so she could feel the heat of the sun on her stomach.

"At least I'm getting more sun than you, with all those clothes and layers you've got on," she smiled, then rolled back into position, lying on her back with both arms extended to either side of her body. She sighed, content.

Dean couldn't help but study her; he didn't usually stare at people like that, but something about her made him curious in a way he hadn't been in a while. There was something special about her, and it wasn't only her stunning beauty.

He didn't know her that well, but…

As he continued to stare at her, the memories of their first meeting came flooding back to him.

Before

“Coffee for Y/n!”

Distracted by the current hunt he was dealing with - the apocalypse coming just around the corner, and his brother off god knew where - Dean wasn’t paying attention to the name being called flby the barista, or to the name written on the cup. Completely absorbed in his thoughts, he grabbed the coffee and headed for the exit, sipping on it.

“Blerg!” He immediately spat out the much too sweet drink. “Disgusting!”

"Uhm, sorry."

Too busy trying to come up with a stronger word than "disgusting" for the sugary concoction, Dean wasn't paying attention to the voice that spoke behind him; he simply continued on his way towards a trash can, ready to throw away the foul liquid.

“Hey!”

Suddenly, a hand entered his sight to grab the cup before he could throw it away.

"What's wrong with you!" He exclaimed, turning to the person who had just interrupted him. A multitude of insults were ready to cross his lips, but he forgot them all when he saw the person in front of him.

"What's wrong with me? Well, tell me - what's your name?"

He couldn't believe his eyes or ears. Not only had they made a mistake on his order, but now a stranger, who was far too charming, was stealing it from him when he was about to put it in the garbage? And now she was asking his name?

“Funny way to flirt, but okay, I'll bite. It’s Dean.” The hunter crossed his arms over his chest, puffing it out in an attempt to look more buff. But that only made the girl laugh as she took a sip of the sweet coffee. "Hey, that's mine!" he chastised.

“Next time you order a coffee, Dean, make sure it’s your name on the cup.”

Completely taken aback, Dean didn't have time to react or reply before the stranger was leaving. He only caught a quick glimpse of the name written on the cup before she was gone.

It definitely wasn’t Dean.

“Son of a bitch.”

It was not the only time he crossed paths with the woman. The same day, a few hours later, he was back at the motel doing research on his computer for the current hunt when suddenly everything went black.

The power was out.

“Son of a bitch!!!”

It really wasn't his day.

Dean ran his hands over his face, sighing. Usually it was Sam who did the research on hunts. But after what he told him… Sam was gone. A simple fight had quickly turned into a shouting mess, and although he was still angry with his brother, Dean regretted some of the things he said.

Sighing once again, Dean got up and left his room. As it was late at night, it was dark and it took him a while to find the front desk of the motel.

There was no one.

"Of course."

Dean jumped over the counter. Since he didn’t have the key or the permission to be there, he had to act quickly. Luckily, he knew where the breaker was, all he had to do was open the door to his right, walk a little in the hallway, and then, the electrical room was there. After turning the power back on, Dean walked back to the counter again and on the other side...

“You’re kidding right, you’re telling me you work here?”

The girl from the cafe was in front of him, her arms folded across her chest. Taken aback, Dean didn't know how to react, once again. It was twice in one day that he ran into her, and both times he was at a loss for words.

When he didn't answer, the girl turned to leave, but luckily the hunter's body worked faster than his mouth. “Wait!”

He eventually caught up with her as she stopped in front of a door. Raising an eyebrow, she waited for him to speak.

Come on Dean, say something! Speak, why can't you say anything to her!

"They are all the same," she mumbled to herself as she turned to the door to unlock it. It was her room.

"I don't work here."

Stopping in her tracks, she turned her head to signal she heard him. “Okay. But I think I would have preferred you did. Because now, explaining your presence there is suddenly very complicated.”

There was a simple, easy-to-share explanation for his presence there. But yet, when he tried to say it, Dean once again found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. Why was he having so much trouble talking to this girl?

“Anyway, not my business, just glad the lights are on again.” She opened the door and took a step inside, then another, and as he finally found his voice, the door closed right in his face.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

And it was like that every time they met. And they seemed to meet all the time and everywhere. At the grocery store. On the sidewalk, walking the same direction. Even at a red light where she crossed the street. Wherever he went in the days following their first meeting, Dean seemed to bump into her.

A few days later, the hunt was over and the bones burned. The ghost turned out to be a girl that died in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. She was targeting drivers who exceeded the speed limit on the city's main street, causing fatal accidents. One victim died, the others only suffered injuries.

And luckily for Dean, both him and Baby came out of this hunt without a scratch.

But that was just from the outside. Because inside of him, the wounds didn’t want to heal.

Now

Lying on this beach, next to the girl he had spent the last couple of days constantly walking into, Dean's thoughts were lost again.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice pulled him out of his head, and he noticed he was still staring at her. After clearing his throat, Dean turned his attention back to the sky and the blinding sun.

"Just… Um…" A sudden shadow soothed the burning rays of the sun in his eyes, and he blinked a few times to see the girl sitting beside him, one hand placed perfectly in front of him to shade his eyes. He swallowed with difficulty, like there was a ball in his throat and got up on his elbows.

“I didn't pay attention back at the café, that’s why I picked up the wrong order. I don't work at the motel, I just wanted the power to be back on, but since there was no one there, I fixed it myself. And I swear, I wasn't following you. It was all just weird coincidences that I can't explain."

Finally, he managed to say all the things he'd wanted to tell her every time he ran into her. It felt good to finally have control over his voice again.

"Mm hmm," she nodded, and Dean wished she didn't have her sunglasses on so he could admire her eyes. "I noticed you didn't seem very focused. Want to talk about it?"

Since he was unable to see her eyes, Dean focused on her lips. "Why would I want to talk about my problems to someone whose name I don't even know?" He replied, hoping it would prompt her to reveal her identity.

A smile tugged at her perfect lips. “Oh, but you know my name. It was written on my coffee.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Also, after all our encounters, don't you think fate would like us to get to know each other?”

At her words, Dean sat up completely. It didn't matter if he was covered in sand or that now, the sun was beating down on his face again. He liked the warmth it gave to his skin. “Fate is a bitch.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused, then took off her glasses. “Fuck fate, then. Why were you stealing other people's coffee, Dean?"

A small laugh escaped him as he thought for a moment. "My brother."

The words then seemed to come out all on their own. One after the other. He told her everything, well, apart from the supernatural aspect of his life. He told her about his fight with his brother, the only family he had left. How hard his job was, that he hadn't taken a moment for himself in so long; he couldn't even remember the last time he just laid down to feel the heat of the sun on his skin. And he told her about the regrets he had for some of the things he'd said and done.

She listened carefully without interruption. And when he was done telling her everything that was on his mind, he waited nervously for her to call him crazy and selfish. After all, it was the truth.

But that didn't happen.

“I’m sorry life sucks so much right now.” Her gaze wandered to the horizon. “You seem to really love your brother.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You should call him,” she turned her head towards him. As the sun went down, leaving with its warmth and light, he could see all the sadness of the world shining in her eyes. “Don't add more regrets to the ones you already have.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

She laughed softly. It was the saddest laugh Dean had ever heard, like she was accepting the truth, and the truth was that she'd never be happy again. One of her hands wiped her cheeks and left small grains of sand on her skin.

“That's the worst that could happen if you call him; what's the worst that could happen if you don't?”

Dean nodded. It made a lot of sense. Sam could refuse to talk to him…hang…never forgive him. But if he didn’t try… He had no idea how much worse it could get.

“And you," he asked, "why are you here?”

She was likely expecting that question from him, because her gaze once again fell on the vast ocean before them. “Regrets, just like you.”

Her body language changed then. She started playing with her hair, her feet sinking into the sand as though to feel something, anything, other than the pain she was feeling right now as memories flooded back into her head. "But for me, it's too late."

She had listened to him and been there for him, so obviously Dean wanted to do the same. "I'm sure it's not."

Shaking her head, she sighed. “It is. She passed away last month. A month already…” The sun was almost completely gone and the cold had settled onto the beach. Dean had no idea if she was shaking because she was cold or because she was in pain.

“We had a fight. You know, even best friends can disagree on things. I said mean things to her, the only person that ever stayed by my side… She was my everything. And I ruined everything.” Passing her hand over her cheeks again, Dean noticed the silent tears that had started to flow a while ago.“It was about speeding. I told her she was driving too fast. Well, I was right in the end.”

A sob broke her words.

And Dean understood.

The ghost he had to take care of… Was her best friend. Even after death, she remembered what they talked about, and wanted to do good. In the worst possible way. Causing people that were speeding to crash on that same road where she lost her life.

His heart sank as the pain she was feeling mingled with his own. And without noticing, he had his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him while she cried. Her body was shaking so much, her warm tears quickly soaking through his shirt. But he didn’t mind.

They stayed like that until the sun disappeared completely, and then, they stayed longer. Finally, he drove them back to the motel and walked her to her room.

“I don’t need your number,” she said as she stepped backwards into her room. “I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.”

“You bet,” Dean winked, a smile stretching his lips. They said goodnight, and he walked back to his own room. The conversations they'd had wouldn’t leave his mind. So he got his phone out, scrolled through his contacts, and stopped at the letter S, staring at Sam's name.

It wasn’t too late. But it could be if he didn’t do anything.

Without further hesitation, Dean pressed the call button.

It took a day for Sam to come back. When he finally arrived at the motel Dean was staying in, he was expecting a lot of things. Apologies from his big brother, hugs, anger, and probably more fighting. But he definitely hadn't expected to walk in on the scene he did.

“Ouch! Son of a bitch!”

“Hello?” Sam pushed the door open, looking everywhere but not finding his brother. “Dean?”

“Bathroom,” Dean answered and Sam followed his voice. What he found there was definitely more than unexpected.

Sam couldn’t help bursting into laughter as he was met with a very red faced Dean.

“What happened? Did you forget protection?”

His brother's whole face was burnt, and when Sam looked down, he could see that Dean's feet had suffered the same fate.

“Ha. Ha.” Dean laughed sarcastically as he looked at himself in the mirror again. It was bound to happen, spending the day outside, under the sun, with no sunscreen on…

He looked like a tomato.

But it was worth it.

“I’m glad you came back, little brother,” Dean said as he met Sam’s eyes in the mirror.

Sam stopped laughing and nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m glad you called. But I need to know, what did you do while I was gone?”

To that, Dean just smiled. “I ran into someone. More than once.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @siospins2 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891@mimaria420 @this-is-me19 @syrma-sensei

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talesmaniac89 · 2 years

Text

Home

Pairing: Dean x Reader (She/Her)

Summary: Dean has tried and failed to make a home for himself and his brother. Until she walked into his life.

Word Count: 5828

Warnings: Dean questioning self worth, self sacrificial tendencies, feelings of displacement, injuries, some angst

Y/N = Your name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour | Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Dean had tried his hardest to make the bunker feel like home. He’d cooked, cleaned, decorated… Hell, he’d spent weeks, months, years trying to make the former Men of Letters hole in the ground feel like it belonged to him. To them.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t work.

It was still just a pitstop on their endless trek towards death to Sam. Just a prison to Dean. Just a slightly roomier coffin. A windowless cell where they could go to patch up their injuries before they were let out again to fight whatever else God threw their way.

The bunker was just a corner for the world to push them into to pretend they didn’t exist.

Because even though they were its protectors, they were also a stain on the very world they protected. As something dirty, broken and not perfectly pretty; they didn’t fit the cookie cutter mould of society. So, whenever they weren’t useful, they were relegated back to their windowless cage. A mix of concrete and steel that didn’t feel like anything but a temporary respite. A building that wasn’t theirs. Beds they just borrowed and tables they quietly worked around.

Locked away and hidden. Forgotten until the world needed them to save it again.

Dean had tried.

The way he always did. The way he’d tried to make every motel room feel comfortable for Sammy growing up. The way he’d pretended to fit in whenever he was sent to a new school, or bit his tongue and accepted it when his father dropped them off with new strangers and a promise of coming right back that Dean never truly believed but still tricked himself into trusting.

Dean had tried to do the same thing with the bunker that he’d spent his whole life doing. Building homes made out of empty promises and stranger’s walls. Filling it with superficial things that made him feel like he belonged. But he’d fooled no one. Least of all himself.

Dean couldn’t have a home.

Not when he was stranded in a world that wasn’t meant for him.

He could only chase the idea of it at the bottom of a bottle and in dreams of a life he’d never have. He could only wake up strangling a scream, as nightmares brought him back to the only home he’d ever had… Back when he was four-years-old and his picket fences had burned to ash.

Leaving him standing on the lawn in his PJs with Sammy in his arms as his father broke apart and rebuilt himself as a general. Seeing soldiers where he once saw sons.

Dean had motels, pitstops, barracks, trenches and prison cells, but never homes. And the bunker was just one more in a line of failed attempts at building something out of nothing. Taking something borrowed, pretending it was his, and fooling no one.

But… Then there was her.

Hell, she didn’t even have to try.

Nearly from the first moment she’d stepped into the bunker, the air in the normally cold underground prison had warmed up. The fluorescent lights had felt like sunshine on Dean’s skin, and the normally dusty, heavy air had felt fresher, softer. Letting him breathe easy for the first time in forever.

All it took was one full week of (Y/N) living with them and she’d already made the bunker feel more like a home than he’d ever managed. And after a year of her living with them, the bunker was now a place he longed to return to whenever hunts brought him far away from home…

From her.

It was no longer a tomb filled with guilt, nightmares and bad memories. With (Y/N)’s soft touch, everything shifted, as the air filled with her laughter and every small secretive glance Dean threw her way left him feeling warm and grounded. Like he belonged.

After years on the road… Years spent pretending that he had everything under control for Sammy. Dean finally felt home. And all it took was one woman. One beautiful woman, with her soft smile and kind eyes, to make him understand what everyone had been telling him all along… Home was where the heart is. And Dean had finally found his heart.

Now he just needed to find the courage to tell her how he felt.

---

Stealing another glance at her over the lip of his coffee cup, Dean quickly pulled his eyes away as she looked in his direction. Chasing his cowardice with a sip of already cooling coffee as he refocused his attention back on the dusty old tomes in front of him.

He couldn’t do it.

He’d been telling himself to work up the courage. To just… At least attempt to flirt with her. To throw her that slightly crooked smirk and a small wink, like he had done with so many other women as he chased the need for warmth and a temporary feeling of belonging, of home, in their arms. But no matter how much he reminded himself that he wasn’t new to this. That he’d dated, he’d… Fuck. None of it had been like it was with her. None of those women were her.

He couldn’t just turn on the same empty charm he used to use. Not when she deserved everything. And Dean was nothing.

Hell, even if he could. He really shouldn’t do it. No matter how many nights he’d let himself fall into guilty fantasies of his lips on her skin and her body naked below his. He would never be good enough… He’d just leave his bloody fingerprints on her, and hurt her. He knew he would.

Now that he finally had a home, he couldn’t demolish it with his own damn destructive hands. Even if he was dying to build a home for himself in her heart. Even if he saw apple-pie-forevers in her slightly upturned eyes and could easily paint multiple happily ever afters in even just the smallest curve of her smile.

If he told her, and the small curve of her smile fell? Dean wouldn’t just be heartbroken… He’d be homeless. Doomed to wander again. With no more warmth, no more rooms that didn’t feel like prison cells and no more air that tasted slightly sweeter from her laughter permeating it.

“What’s up Dean?” Her beautiful voice broke through his darkening thoughts as he quickly pulled himself out of them. As if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Letting his eyes lock with hers, he gave her a small shaky smile as he shrugged his shoulders, trying to find some excuse to explain whatever she’d seen on his features to prompt the sudden question.

“What’s what?” He finally asked, giving up on finding any excuses, as he knew her perceptive (Y/E/C) eyes would see right through him.

“I don’t know… You just look kinda… Out of it?” She hesitated over the words, her head tilting slightly to the side as her brow furrowed in that damned adorable way that always left him cotton-mouthed and fighting the butterflies in his stomach that threatened to give away how he felt.

“I’m fine… I just… I have a lot on my mind,” He shrugged lamely.

A lot on his mind…

That was the understatement of a fucking lifetime. But hell… Dean wasn't very good with words. Even his mind stumbled to try and find a way to describe what the feelings he was drowning in were. Why he felt so full and so empty at the same time... Yet, the only thing that came through the haze of his confusion was her. Just her.

Her name echoed inside the hollow space he didn't know existed until she had started filling it with just her presence alone. Before he’d known it, she’d made herself at home in his heart. And it scared him. She was supposed to just be (Y/N). She should have been just another hunter. Just another girl. Yet she was slowly becoming everything.

Everything except his.

---

There was something magical about her.

Even the one place that had been the closest thing Dean had ever managed to make feel like home, felt more real when she was around. The rumble of Baby’s engine felt more grounded and the roads just felt smoother whenever she managed to trick Sammy out of the shotgun seat and sang along to her songs.

Because, hell… Even his own rules went out the window when she was around. No matter how much Sammy grumbled that ‘driver picks the music’. She was the exception. She was always the exception. To every rule. After all… She had him wrapped around her little finger.

Plus, Dean would willingly give up his whole damn tape collection and replace it with the sound of her voice, her laughter, filling the Impala as they drove down endless stretches of country road. Casting small glances at her as he clutched the steering wheel. Both to keep himself from reaching out to her and tucking the stray (Y/H/C) strands back behind her ear and because he had too precious a cargo to drive recklessly with her in the car.

With her, every stretch of highway, every shitty motel room with paint peeling off of its walls, and every new pitstop, was home. And the Impala, the one place he’d somewhat managed to fool himself into believing he saw as his childhood home, paled in comparison to that.

---

Clutching his bottle of beer, Dean only pretended to listen to whatever Sammy was saying. Only catching snippets of the latest clues the vampires they were chasing had left behind as his eyes followed her across the hole in the wall bar towards the bartender.

He didn't know when he had started to think about her as his. He had no right to. Yet, whenever his mind wandered, he did. Often. Like a rose-coloured dream that would never come true, but still lingered in his mind and refused to let go long after waking.

He shouldn't be jealous, yet as he watched her smile at the young man behind the bar, only one word came to mind. A lie of a word, yet the only one he had.

Mine.

Swallowing the bitter jealousy down with another generous mouthful of beer, he refocused on Sam. Forcefully pulling his eyes off of her as she leaned over the bar to tell the bartender who was ogling her their order. Yet, as his eyes met his brother’s he was left following Sam’s eyes straight back to her.

Sammy also saw her as home. Though not the way Dean did…

No. To Sam she was a friend, a part of his family. She was the one who had pulled him further out of his shell and made him finally see what a home was supposed to feel like. Instead of the scraps Dean had been able to scrape together for his baby brother over the many years he’d been left raising him.

As Sam looked from her to Dean, he groaned internally. Knowing what was coming. Knowing that his brother would once more try to make him put down sturdier foundations. Though he should know better. He should know nothing could be built out of the gunpowder and lead debris that was Dean Winchester. Yet, he still tried. Whenever she was out of earshot. Having caught on, much faster than Dean, to what his older brother felt for their fellow bunker resident.

“You still haven’t…” Sam kept his voice low as he broached the subject Dean had been dreading. Though he didn’t let his younger brother finish his sentence as he shook his head roughly and brought his now empty bottle to his lips with an annoyed frown.

“No… Not gonna do it either,” Dean shot back before his brother could put his feelings into words. Tainting them with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke.

“And why the hell not?” As always, whenever the conversation got around to her… To the heart Dean had slipped into her hand when she wasn’t looking. Sam just kept fucking pushing. Though he should know by now. He had seen what happened to the people Dean tried to protect. He was destructive. He was a goddamn avalanche. Destroying everything in his path. It didn’t matter if it was homes, hearts or families. One brush with Dean was like a damn kiss of death.

“Can’t make her deal with that… With me,” Dean shot back. His tone was clipped and short as he threw a glance back over at the bar to make sure she was still out of earshot. Hoping the finality in his words would function as the full stop he needed to make his little brother give up on any notion of Dean ever finding anything but prison bars where others dreamt of picket fences.

“Hell, it’s a miracle she hasn’t noticed it yet with the way you look at her. She’ll find out sooner or later that you…” Sam just kept pushing. The little glance Dean threw in her direction did not go unnoticed by his quick witted little brother.

“I’ll just learn to control it,” Dean huffed as he finally placed the empty beer bottle down on the table. A little harder than necessary. Forcing his eyes off of her as if to prove he could. Though he could already feel the pull at his heart, longing to see her again. To catch even just the briefest glance of her (Y/H/C) hair over by the dim bartop.

“Love isn’t something you can control Dean! Love is chaotic and unexpected. Why do you think people say you fall in love? You don’t gently and carefully float into it, able to change the direction or pull yourself up and out. No. You fall. Head first. Fast and hard. Without a lifeline. Sure, sometimes you crash and burn… But other times, that someone will catch you. Hold you, love you, and fall weightless, with you. You just need to take a chance, grow a pair, and fucking tell her,” Sam whisper yelled in his direction. Still careful to not raise his voice enough to be heard by anyone else over the steady sound of music and revelry surrounding the two brothers. Yet, every word still sounded explosively loud to Dean as he gritted his teeth at the sound of the word love. The one thing he had to forcefully deny himself. To keep her safe.

“No Sammy, I can’t do that to her. You know I can’t. You know how loving someone turns out in this life… How many people have we lost? How many times have we been the last ones standing left to deal with the aftermath and the pain? How many times has our love, us caring about someone, put them in danger, in harm's way?” Dean gritted his teeth, keeping his own voice at barely even a whisper though saturated in frustration and anger. Quietly arguing with his stubborn younger brother between small glances in her direction to make sure she was still occupied by the bartender trying to flirt with her.

The sight of her, smiling that breathtaking smile as she let her head fall backwards with an open and warm laugh tore at his sanity. That one dangerous, jealous word once more slipping, unchecked back into his mind from the thought of her laughing so openly with someone that wasn’t him.

Mine…

“Even if she did care, which honestly I doubt she does…. I can’t make her fall with me, never. ‘Cause I’ll keep falling till I end up in hell, and she deserves so much more than that. She deserves nothing less than a lifetime filled with bliss and an eternity in heaven,” Dean continued bitterly. Some of the anger drained from him at the sight of her smiling at another man, replaced with that familiar and comforting blanket of self-hatred that he kept himself wrapped in to stop anyone from getting too close.

“I know this life is hell Dean, but that doesn’t mean you should close yourself completely off from ever feeling anything. She’s already in this life. We all are. At least we have each other. Why the hell are you so scared of just trying?” Sam’s eyes were still on Dean. He hadn’t caught the way she laughed with the bartender, hadn’t seen the proof of how happy she could be… If only she wasn’t saddled with them.

With Dean.

Yet, it was all Dean could see. Though he doubted he was selfless enough to give up on the one home he’d finally found after years spent out in the cold, homeless. Even if he could never really make it his home. He would settle for a guest room. A wandering thought that sometimes slipped into her mind. A friendly smile, a shared laugh, a moment of absolute peace in the middle of the shitstorm that was his life. Yeah… He couldn’t give her up. He couldn’t cut her out cold turkey. But he could learn to be content with his lot in life. To be a friend; a roommate.

At least it was better than freezing to the bone again.

“You’re right… I want her… I shouldn’t, but I do. And that scares me more than anything else in this messed up world of ours, and we’ve survived hell and apocalypses,” Tearing his eyes off of her, Dean’s voice wavered as he confessed feelings that filled him with dread to his brother and the chipped and stained table in front of him.

“I’m beyond scared Sammy. I’m terrified,”

---

The trouble with homes in the shape of a heart and the woman who carried it was that it could be placed in harm’s way. Especially when the shape of his home was a hunter, a woman who risked her life for a thankless world and strangers that refused to see the extent of her sacrifices.

The vampires they’d been chasing across several state lines had somehow gotten the drop on them. And as one monster from the endless waves of vampires slashed at her, Dean was, for the second time in his life, only able to watch as his home was torn to shreds by the vicious claws of evil. First when he was four, in the shape of a house fire, and now in the shape of angry red spilling against gravel as Dean’s world ended to the sound of her pierced scream filling the already bloodsoaked air.

No.

With a pained growl, Dean let his arm swing wildly in front of him. Using his machete to carve a path through the bloodsuckers in an effort to get to her as quickly as possible.

He didn’t even feel the slight jolt in his arm whenever his blade sliced through another vampire. Didn’t even hear their angry, pained screams as they died. All he heard was the sound of her agonised, surprised yell.

All he saw was the heartbreaking colour of red seeping out of her chest as she kept unsteadily on her feet, trying to fight her attackers off. Even though the bright fire in her eyes was slowly ebbing away with every new glimpse he caught of her between the horde of vampires. The same bright fire that always left him breathless, and turned every heartbeat into flames burning through his veins, threatening to reduce him to ash.

All that mattered to him was her. And she was about to leave him behind.

Pushing through the crowd of vampires. Dean didn’t stop until every single one of those damn bloodsuckers were dead before turning to face her. Her name on his lips in a breathless scream as he watched, as if in slow motion, as she crumbled to the ground, the machete in her hand clattering to the dirt along with her. Abandoned now that she had nothing left to fight, and nothing more to give.

“(Y/N)!” Rushing to her side, Dean fell to his knees and cradled his home in his arms. Hoping that this time, he’d be able to fix his. That this time around, he’d be able to save his home, and the heart he’d already willingly given up to her along with it.

Even though her lips were dangerously pale, and her eyelids already hid those beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes from him. Even though she was already freezing to the bone, barely hanging onto the small shallow gasps for air leaving her, as he tried to keep the world from tearing her away from him.

He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t.

---

Though every room she was in felt like home to Dean, there were exceptions. Just like she was his exception for every rule. And the sterile cold of her hospital room didn’t feel any warmer just because she was there.

Instead, it was the opposite.

The longer she remained there, nestled among machines and wires that were trying to keep her alive, the colder the room felt. The more Dean felt his whole damn world freeze over.

Yet, he fought through the shivers, he gritted chattering teeth and braved the cold. Just to stay with her. Because he had nowhere else to go.

It had been a week. The same amount of time it took her to turn the bunker into a home. Yet the hospital still only felt like an early grave, a prison and a torture chamber as Dean shifted in the chair next to her bed. He hadn’t moved since they rolled her into the room after surgery. Fighting any nurse or doctor that tried to tell him he had to leave; that visiting hours were over.

Because, damn it, he wasn’t just visiting. His whole damn world was lying in that bed. His home was there, nestled in the slow beat of her heart. The sound of each beat transferred directly into him through the steady rhythm of the electronic beeps of the ECG was the only thing lulling him to sleep at night.

“Time to wake up (Y/N)...” Dean echoed words he’d whispered into the empty, cold hospital air more than once over the last week as he blocked out the doctor’s disapproving looks and Sam’s worried pleas for him. His head dropped until his forehead rested against her bed as he swallowed around the constant lump in his throat.

“We need to go home now,” He pleaded as he blindly searched for her hand and gently squeezed it, though it remained unmoving in his shaky grip.

“I need you to come home with me. Because the bunker’s not home without you,” He whispered the words into her sheets. Not willing to let them bleed out into the rest of the cold room. Unwilling to let the highly sanitised air of the hospital scrub any of the red raw pain and tears out of his words as he let them stain white sheets.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to the steady beeps, signalling that she was still alive as he pushed away the freezing chill that always threatened to settle over him whenever he pictured the bunker without her. His hand gently squeezed her unmoving one, as if ensuring himself she was still there. That she hadn’t slipped away between one heartbeat and the next as he made a confessional out of the hospital sheets. Letting the truths that were slipping out from the cracks in his heart soak her bed. At least until she finally woke up again and he could hastily suture the wounds shut and slip back into the role as her friend.

“I need you. You’re the only thing that… Damn it. I love you (Y/N), but I never wanted to tell you. Because I didn’t want you to hurt. I didn’t want to paint a bright red target on you. Yet… Here you are. Somehow you still got into the paint and drew a target on yourself anyway,” The words left him as a broken, huffed laugh. Sounding hollow and wrong when paired with the constant noise of machines and the dimmed background noises coming from the hospital hallway.

Humourless, empty and drained. Just like the rest of his life when she wasn’t around.

“But I can’t… I know it’s selfish. I know I’m a selfish bastard, but I can’t lose you. Even if I’m just a friend. You’re… You’re home to me (Y/N). Without you there’s no meaning, there’s no light. So, you have to wake up now, ok?” Though he knew it was pointless, Dean still held his breath. Waiting for her sweet voice to reply to his words. The same way he had waited time and time again over the last week.

“Come home with me, please? Let me go home. Don’t leave me homeless,” he pushed when the silence dragged on.

But no reply came. Other than the still steady beeps of the heart rate monitor, promising that she wasn’t lost to him. Not yet. Even though she stubbornly kept Dean’s world from him, and the only bright light in his life, behind closed, still eyelids.

“I promise I’ll love you quietly, I won’t make you uncomfortable. I’ll just silently love you, and I’ll protect you… So you won’t get hurt again. Because seeing you hurt? It’s killing me,” He finally continued. Squeezing her small hand as he bit back a hollow sob. Gritting his teeth together as he fought the pain that had been simmering like an angry storm in his chest since he first saw the vampire hurt her. It was a fight he was slowly losing. As every new hour without her smile was unravelling the last of his patience.

He was just so damn close to trashing the whole hospital. Just to have something to hurt. The way he hurt.

Yet, where he had been wrestling with his anger and helplessness in a losing battle that left him winded, broken and bruised. She easily made it all die down with just a soft squeeze of his hand back, and a dry, scratchy voice whispering two words. For the first time in a week.

“Me too…” The sound of her voice was the sweetest sound Dean had ever heard as he lifted his head from her sheets. Fighting the sudden vertigo that followed the breakneck speed of the move as he blinked unshed tears out of his eyes to focus on her.

“(Y/N)! Oh thank god,” Dean’s breath left him in a shaky gasp shaped like relief and her name when he was met with (Y/E/C) eyes instead of closed eyelids.

Though all he really wanted to do was pinch himself, to make sure it wasn’t all just a dream his mind was tormenting him with, Dean kept holding onto her hand instead. In part because he could never let her go, and in part because he worried his mind would fracture if he woke up and found her still and unmoving again.

“Me too Dean…” She repeated, her lips curving up into a weak, tired smile as she once more tried to get Dean to understand the meaning behind her two cryptic words. But, hell, Dean was too far gone. Too elated to finally feel the air around him heat up from the sunshine in her eyes and taste the sweetness of her voice on every new shaky breath he took.

“What are you…? Wait, it doesn’t matter. You’re awake. Do you want some water? Or no, let me go get the doc…” Dean’s words came out rushed and messy as he kept holding onto her, though his eyes were lifting to search for some way to get the doctor to come check on her now that she was finally awake. But, just as he tried to slip his hand from her to go find the doctor that hadn’t magically appeared, she cut him off with a weak squeeze of his fingers. Keeping him from moving and drawing his full attention back to her.

“No, listen. Please,” She whispered, coughing slightly as she grimaced at the gravel in her own voice after a week of not speaking at all.

“Ok… Yeah. Ok, I’m listening. What is it? Does something hurt?” He said, but the truth was, Dean wasn’t listening, not really. He was much too busy marvelling at the miracle that was her open eyes, and worrying about the scratch in her voice as he busied himself with digging through the grocery bag Sammy had brought him the day before with one hand. Somehow managing to locate a bottle of water to hand to her as he slipped his hand from hers to unscrew the top.

Yet, as he handed her the bottle, she only held it, and the hand he used to hand it to her, forcing him to look at her, really look at her as she spoke again. Even though every word was rough and whispered as her throat screamed at her to accept the water.

“Listen,” She demanded. And all Dean could do was nod numbly as he waited for her to speak again. After all, he was tightly wrapped around her little finger. Smiling weakly at him, she finally lifted the bottle of water to her lips, soothing her dry throat before she tried to speak again as Dean watched, mesmerised, as a single droplet escaped her mouth, resting temptingly on her bottom lip. “Me too… I love you too, you stupid, stubborn, brilliant fool,” (Y/N) said as soon as the ache in her throat had been soothed, a flash of pink rolling against her bottom lip to catch the single drop of water that held Dean’s rapt attention.

Yet, as she spoke, his eyes shot from her lips up to lock with hers. Green eyes wide as he looked at her. Speechless, as his mind tried to make sense of the words he was sure he heard, yet couldn’t really be anything other than an auditory hallucination. Or maybe a dream… Once more Dean was left wanting to pinch himself, yet fearing he’d wake up. So instead he just squeezed her hand a little harder as he struggled to find the breath to shape words...

“What… You? I mean, wow,” …And clearly thoroughly failed.

He was breathless, his heart stuck in his throat as he tried to find the word trapped in his chest. He was elated as long forgotten butterflies did a number on his stomach, as if he was on a damn roller coaster.

Yet, just like a roller coaster, the slow and steady high was followed by a death defying plummet as soon as he parted his lips to speak. His voice broke before he could even get one word out as the memories flooded back over him.

Blood soaked gravel and pale lips invaded his vision, clouding the sunshine he’d once again found in her eyes as Dean shook his head. The feeling of her quickly fading heartbeat as he held her close in the backseat of the Impala while Sammy drove recklessly towards the hospital was still just too vivid.

He couldn’t risk losing her. He couldn’t selfishly celebrate when being with him was just a shortcut to death. No way. He refused to sign her death warrant by giving into desire.

“But… I’m bad for you (Y/N). I could get you…”

Before Dean could finish his sentence, she shook her head, cutting his words off with a pained grimace as the quick shake sent shockwaves through her injured body. The pained groan that followed, a physical manifestation of how dangerous he was for her.

Taking a few shaky breaths she lifted herself up into a more seated position on the hospital bed. Ignoring his worried, mumbled protests as he hesitantly reached out to her. The sight of blood spilling onto gravel was still too clear in his mind as he held himself back. Worried he’d mark her for death.

“You’re not bad for me Dean. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. You’re the reason I wake up smiling. You’re the reason I feel like I finally have a home to settle down in. You’re my home. As much as you say I’m yours,” She argued back, that same stubborn furrow that Dean found unbearably cute, back on her forehead as she emphasised every word. Making sure he heard her.

Yet, though he heard the words, Dean just couldn’t tie them to himself. He wasn’t anyone’s reason. Unless it was as an excuse, someone to blame. And he’d never had a home. So there was no way he could be the shape of one for someone else. There was no way such beautiful words could belong to him. Not when she was so goddamn perfect, and he was just… Dean.

“But you could get anything you ever want (Y/N), and I’m…” Dean started again. Not seeing himself in the rose coloured words that had spilled from honeyed lips.

“You’re everything I want Dean. It’s us. That’s all I want,” She pushed, stubbornly. Unwilling to back down as she set fiery (Y/E/C) eyes in him, daring him to try and say another bad word about himself.

Not wanting to disappoint, Dean parted his lips to speak again. To argue against her idealised version. To make her see how much safer she would be without him. Even if it would kill him to let her go. Yet, the beautiful woman who had somehow miraculously transformed prison bars into safety nets, was not willing to listen. As she quickly lifted a still shaky hand and grabbed the front of his t-shirt, using it as leverage to pull herself all the way up and closer to him.

Before finally silencing him with her lips on his.

It took a few erratic beats of his heart for Dean to realise what was happening. Green eyes wide and breath caught in his chest.

She was kissing him, carefully and hesitantly, soaking his vinegar words of self-hatred in honey and sunshine as he stayed frozen for just a split second. Until the warmth of her thawed him back up. Just enough for him to gently push her back onto her pillow without breaking the kiss. His hands travelled the length of her arms as he made sure she was comfortable, still worried about her injuries.

But he couldn’t break the kiss. He was caught. Completely, and undeniably caught. Unable to deny himself the heart that she willingly slipped into his hand, that matched the one he’d snuck her. Fitting together so goddamn perfectly Dean felt like crying.

So instead he focused on her lips, the taste of her. Through soft, barely there kisses, he selfishly moved into her heart. Only to find she had already made a home for him there.

Finally, Dean was home.

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sea040561 @donnaintx @alwaysdreamingforthebest @thatmotleygirl @chocolateheart @superfanficnatural @flamencodiva @starryeyeseunbyul @waywardbeanie @supernaturalenchanted @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @the-lost-wanderer-of-the-night @strangersstranger @tatted-trina6 @jensengirl83 @whatareyousearchingfordean @atc74 @jackandthesoulmates @gh0stgurl @samsgirl93 @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @dainrumnaheim @440mxs-wife

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