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virtualreader · 9 months

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broken hearts and healing souls

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: carrying the ruins of the broken heart the death of his father had left behind, Dean pushes you away, fearing hurting you as well. or perhaps he’s just scared of being hurt himself, one more time.

word count: 3,3k. (does not include lyrics)

warnings: alleged age gap, fierce anger, heated argument, drinking out of spite, supressed feelings, cursing, yelling, not the happiest end, and lots and lots of angst.

part 2

a/n: i started watching supernatural about a month ago and I'm loving it so far. and god, i couldn't help but fall truly, madly, deeply in love with dean winchester. this scenario came to my mind while listening someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic, so this one shot is based on this song. feedback is always appreciated. please, comment if you think I should write a part 2 to this one!

"You can't boss me around, Dean! I'm not a child anymore!" you barked at the hunter standing by the motel room's door.

"I can't? Watch me!" Dean retorted, breathing heavily and extending his arms upward to appear bigger. "As the eldest here, it's my call to make the hard decisions. And I've decided that you won't come on any more hunts, end of story. You're risking your life out there—it's dangerous, y/n. What's not clear about that?!"

You and Dean had been arguing for a while. He came into the motel room the three of you—Sam, Dean and yourself—were forced to share, stringently declaring you were not allowed to go with them on hunts anymore.

After the previous mission ended with you being kidnapped by the demon you were after and tied to a chair in an old building's basement, the oldest brother wasted no time in making a decision. Despite your eagerness to rid the world of evil, Dean prioritized your safety, even if you didn't see it that way.

Dean Winchester was an undaunted and confident man, he had been since his mother died, he had to be, for his family's sake, for his own sake. Yet, when it came to you, potential bad outcomes constantly assaulted his mind. He could not afford to lose another loved one, so he did not take a gamble.

"It is my life that I am endangering, so I strongly believe that I get to choose whether I want to expose myself to hunting hazards or not. You are not my dad and cannot give me orders, Winchester!" you declared, raising your voice with anger and trembling as you pointed your index finger at him.

You were hurt and confused. Hunting had been your life for as long as you could remember and now he was taking that away from you. You tried to plead your case, but he had already made up his mind.

In response to your defiance, Dean raised his chin, pursed his lips, and clenched his jaw. Yet, even in his anger, he maintained steady eye contact with you. It was clear he was not going to back down easily.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he queried exasperated. “That demon back there, could have killed you, and you know that. This is not some inoffensive deer we’re going after.”

He was undoubtedly referring to the incident that happened earlier that day, when he was able to free you from the grasp of the demon. It was the same demon that mercilessly took your father’s life, leaving you fatherless at the tender age of twelve and subsequently placed under the care of the Winchesters.

Growing up with them, you learned to navigate the dangerous world of hunting and the supernatural. From hours-long road trips and campfires to cozy movie-evenings and pancake Sundays, your memories with your new family included a wide variety of experiences that left a lasting impact on you.

The bond you formed with the Winchesters was one built on mutual respect and a shared purpose, making them more than just your guardians; they were your family, and you were theirs.

"God, what a pig-headed dude you are," you muttered, oozing frustration, as you let out a peeved sigh. "So you, old man, can risk being killed by these heartless creatures, but I can't? Is it just because I'm younger than you guys? ‘Cause I already told you, I am as much of an adult as you are.”

Clearly, you would not be swayed by Dean's demands. You were your own person, with your own will and your own desires. You were determined to stand up for yourself and live your life on your own terms.

He took a moment to observe your bruised appearance as he pondered his answer. The blood that had previously emerged from the wound above your eyebrow was already dry, while the cut on your lip was still struggling to form a scab.

He noticed the swelling around your left eye, a tell-tale sign of the force of the blow that had landed on your face. And as he looked at you, he could not help but feel responsible for your emaciated state.

"If you're such an adult, you'll be fine on your own. You don't need me, do you?" the hunter sassed back, towering over you, tilting his head and upturning his brows.

Dean's words hurt you deeply, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. But you refused to let him see you cry. You straightened your back and met his gaze with a fierce determination.

"Do you want me to leave?” you said, your voice shaking a little. “Fine. If that's what you want, I'll leave. But don't expect me to come back."

You walked past him, feeling his eyes on your back. You didn't turn around, didn't give in to the urge to look at him again. You needed to be strong, to show him that you could make it on your own. But deep down, you knew that you didn't want to be alone. You needed Dean, more than you wanted to admit.

"Hey, girl!" you called out to the waitress, raising your voice above the noise of the tavern to get her attention. "Can I get a refill, please?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Too lost and hurting to carry your load We all need someone to hold

As you waited for your drink, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Dean in your mind. You felt hurt and betrayed by his words. You were mad at him for not understanding your desire to be by his side, no matter the risks.

You were lost in thought when a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

"Rough night?" inquired a gold-haired man as he took a seat on the adjoining stool.

The man seemed to be a bit younger than Dean, possibly in his mid-twenties, closer to your own age. He wore a white crewneck t-shirt that hugged his muscular arms around the biceps, and his dark slim fit jeans matched the black pattern printed on his shirt's front.

It was difficult to determine whether it was the effect of the second-rate alcohol or your personal taste in men, but it was safe to say he was far from unattractive and he was, in fact, quite handsome.

"You could say so." you answered his question with a touch of apathy but still flashed a slight smile his way.

You've been fighting the memory, all on your own Nothing worsens, nothing grows I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

The man took a slow, deliberate sip from his beer bottle and leaned back, his eyes fixed intently on you. His gaze seemed to linger for a moment, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction to what he had just said.

"You know," he said, his voice low and suggestive, "I can make it better for you, pretty."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks at the man's brazen suggestion, and you couldn't help but feel a little intrigued by his offer.

You glanced around the dimly lit tavern, taking in the smoky air and the clinking of glasses. It was the kind of place where people came to drown their sorrows and forget about the troubles of the day-to-day life. And in that moment, you couldn't help but feel like you were just another lost soul adrift in the sea of humanity.

The man's eyes were still fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for your response, as if he knew that his offer had the power to change the course of your night—or maybe even your life.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on, feeling a sense of daring that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

The man smiled, a slow, confident grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let's just say that I know a thing or two about making a woman feel good," he replied, his voice dripping with innuendo.

It was abundantly clear what his intentions were at this point in time, and to be entirely candid, it did not annoy you at all.

You eagerly accepted the charming man's alluring offer. And with a sense of anticipation, you followed him out of the sleazy bar, seeking shelter from the gentle patter of the light rain under the protective eaves.

As you walked alongside him, you found yourself captivated by his confident stride and the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light emanating from the street lamps.

You could feel his hand slowly making its way towards your hip, until it rested there, just barely grazing the upper part of your buttocks. This subtle touch sent a sparkling feeling coursing through your body, starting from the core and reaching all the way up to your chest. It created a warm whirlwind of expectancy, causing your heart to beat faster in anticipation.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice asked, a hint of pain in it.

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day you were helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Dean narrowed his eyes, anguishedly taking in the sight in front of him.

As you stood there, drenched from the rain and your mind clouded by the alcohol, Dean's sudden appearance caught you off guard. He was directly facing you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the pain and anger etched upon his features.

"What the hell are you doing here, y/n?" Dean asked incredulously, his voice laced with anger and hurt. “And who the fuck is that jerk?”

You froze, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn't even considered how your actions might affect Dean.

You've drunk it down and you've spat it out And nothing tastes like the things you had So tear it off, why don't you let them go? We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

"I didn't know she was taken, mate. I didn't mean to meddle in your relationship," the guy standing next to you apologized, his voice trembling as Dean's contempting gaze threatened to pierce his soul. Green eyes—usually a symbol of grace—had never held such a look of hatred. “She’s all yours, mate.”

Once the man marched back into the tavern, with tail between legs, the hunter’s emerald orbs landed on you. And as he beamed down at you, you noticed how much woe his gaze held. He wasn’t someone to let his emotions surface, not at all, that would leave his feelings too exposed, too unguarded.

He didn't seem to mind the rain dribbling over his leather jacket or his well-styled hair as he approached you. Although you had a defiant demeanor, you took a step backward in response, and your back met the wall covered in graffiti.

“Thought you said ‘I’d be fine on my own’.” you tried to sound confident as you quoted him, yet the alcohol running through your veins caused your words to slur together.

"Yeah, I said on your own! Not with some opportunistic macho man!" he said, referring to your previous companion.

He looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his eyes scanning your face as if he was trying to find some kind of explanation for what he was seeing.

And then, his anger boiled over, and he let out a shout that echoed through the empty streets. "No way. Are you fucking drunk?!" he yelled. "Are you nuts?!"

The force of his outburst hit you like a physical blow, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You had never seen Dean like this before, and it was clear that he was at his breaking point.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other in silence, the rain pouring down around you like a curtain. And then, slowly, you began to speak, your words tumbling out of you in a jumbled mess.

"You're one to talk. You, my dear friend, are the very reason I'm here, drinking my sorrows away." you scoffed at him.

Your eyes darted around, looking at anything but Dean. You felt intimidated—what with Dean’s tall figure and the disappointment you could discern in his expression.

“Drinking won’t solve anything, y/n. You know better than this.”

"Do I really?” you uttered, struggling to keep at bay your wobbly lip. “Last time I checked, I was just a kid to you.”

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

As the rain continued to fall, the rhythmic clattering of the water drops mixed with the sound of cars cruising over the wet pavement, creating an overwhelming melody.

The droplets seemed to grow in size and force. You welcomed the heavier rain, grateful for the way it obscured the tears that threatened to overflow from your eyes.

You knew that if he saw you crying, he would only see you as weak and immature, even more than he already saw you. You had always been strong and independent, and you didn't want him to think any less of you.

So you stood there, letting the rain soak into your clothes and hair, hoping that it would wash away the pain and sorrow you felt inside.

“I don’t think of you as a kid. I just prefer you staying away from those creatures. You know better than anyone what that demon is capable of. It killed your father, and you could’ve died today too, y/n!”

“Do not act like you care! And do not dare mentioning my dad ever again! You are too self-centered to take others’ needs into account.”

With a trembling voice, you lashed out at Dean, your emotions running high and your patience wearing thin. You couldn't stand the way Dean tried to control your life, always telling you what to do and what not to do.

You had grown up fast in the world of hunting, learning to fend for yourself and to take care of others. You had seen things that most people couldn't even imagine, and you had faced danger and death head-on. You were not some delicate flower that needed to be protected at all costs.

And yet, Dean seemed to think otherwise. He was always trying to shield you from harm, even if it meant keeping you from doing what you loved most.

"Do you even hear yourself, Dean?" you continued, your voice rising with every word. "You act like you're the only one who knows what's best for me. You don't trust me to make my own decisions, although I've been hunting just as long as you have. You're so wrapped up in your own fears and insecurities that you can't see how much you're hurting me."

"You're part of my family now, and as such, I must protect you," Dean declared, helplessness building up inside his chest. "Why do you find it so hard to understand?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Hear the falling and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? The end of the day and we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me?

“I-…Just…leave me alone. Please, Dean.”

And it was then when, acting on your most primitive impulses, you took off, walking away from Dean with no determined destination.

It was not that you were afraid of Dean, no, you had spent too many years among the Winchesters to know he would never voluntarily hurt you, at least not physically. You found him sort of intimidating, more like it.

It was well known among the Winchesters' acquaintances that Dean, although not often, could become livid if you pressed the right buttons. And no one would ever want that fatal rage to be directed at them, unless they wanted to know what hell felt like.

However, the emotion the hunter was feeling now was not anger. It was something else, something both mysterious and intriguing. Although his muscles remained tight, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and a pinched expression was plastered on his face.

You fought against the urge to turn back and run into his embrace, to apologize to him and leave this dispute behind. It was a struggle to hold onto your never-so-fragile pride when your love for him had never felt as powerful as it did now. Not since you had first fallen in love with him, at least, back when you were a silly, naive teenager.

A hand grabbed firmly onto your arm, forcing you into a halt. You did not have the courage to turn around and face him with a trail of tears cascading over your cheeks, even if the drizzling rain disguised it somewhat. There was no need for that, however, when he began speaking, not waiting for you to look at him.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he apologized in a small voice, unaccustomed to saying such words. "I didn't mean to push you away. I... I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I'm scared, y/n. Scared of losing you like I lost my father, like I lost my mother," Dean confessed, his voice softening, dropping in pitch.

You turned to look at him, really look at him, and saw the pain and fear written in his face.

You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion in Dean's words. You had always known that he cared about you, but you had never realized just how much you meant to him.

"Dean," you said, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. "I'm not going to die. I'm strong, and I know how to take care of myself. But I need you to trust me. I need you to let me make my own decisions, even if it means taking risks sometimes."

You stopped, taking a big deep breath before continuing.

“What you said back at the motel, it hurt me, a lot. I have nothing left, Dean. My family is dead, I have no place to stay, no job, no nothing. I’ve lost everything.”

“You have me.” He took a step towards you, getting closer, and caressed your feathery cheek with his large hand. “You always have and always will have me.”

Dean wiped away a tear from your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin softly. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, y/n. I was just so afraid of losing you. But I promise, from now on, I'll trust you to make your own decisions. We'll face everything together, as a team."

A turmoil of heartfelt emotions whirled its way down to your very core as Dean's words sank in. And, as you looked up at him, you saw the love and devotion in his eyes, and you felt grateful like never before to the Winchesters for taking you in.

Seizing the proximity, you took a moment to admire him. The softness on his eyes only adding to his already perfectly alluring features. The green orbs standing out his face had never shone as bright, and his nose glowed as red as his eyes, probably from the cold air of the drizzly night.

Yet the part you spent the longest time observing was his lips. Sultry pouty lips, that rested slightly parted.

And as if in a dream, he leaned in intertwining his lips with yours in a genuine kiss. Sliding the hand that previously laid on your cheek to the back of your neck, bringing you nearer to his own body.

His grip was both firm and steady, but no less gentle, just so as if he never wanted to let go of you. Your movements kept in step with each other's, as your mouths melted in a much-needed dance.

None of you cared about the rain soaking your clothes or the idling engine of the precious impala of Dean’s, nor about the small crowd by the tavern’s entrance looking at you. You were in a deep immersion into the depths of the moment, and all you saw, all you could regard was the man in front of you - the man you’ve always loved.

The idyllic moment was short-lived, much to your dismay, as Dean pulled away and apprehensively took a step backwards. But the pain you felt then was nothing compared to the stabbing sensation in your heart when he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake."

part 2

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starspyder · 1 month

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𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘕𝘦𝘢𝘵 // 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

Summary: Dean Winchester is a hardened man. While he would love to, he can’t maintain a proper relationship due to his line of work. With how much of a sweetheart you are, Dean finds it almost impossible to keep you at an arm’s distance.

Warnings: implied age gap but it's not fully mentioned (reader is 27, Dean is 40 in this if ur curious), moderate angst, AQUAPHOBIA WARNING (almost-drowning), witches, canon-typical violence, Dean saves you hehe, fluff, lowkey grumpy x sunshine, Dean is in denial and thinks you deserve better than him, self-hatred, guilt on Dean’s part, you’re both into each other but he’s so scared of hurting you, Southern!Reader bc i said so hehehe, Dean is YEARNING

Gif from Pinterest

Word Count: 1462

Dean would never consider himself soft. Sure, he was good with kids, but only because he basically had to raise Sam by himself. Those experiences in his own childhood slipped from his hands like sand in an hourglass, and that little ball of softness went right with it.

Until one case in Louisiana, when it practically fell right into his arms.

He and Sam had been there tracking a coven of witches in New Orleans, like something straight out of American Horror Story. Based on the news reports, the victims were all friends or family of one of the suspected witches– likely her initiation into the group, to prove she was worthy. A young girl had gotten caught in the crossfire, simply because she was roommates with one of them, and accidentally led the Winchesters right to the coven.

He’d seen you right before they began the real hunt, having gone back to your house for a final round of questioning. Truthfully, he’d gone by to flirt his way into checking the house for any hex bags, but your witchy roommate was good about keeping it out of her living space. When he didn’t find anything, he couldn’t seem to deny your offer for a cup of coffee, while you did your best to inquire about the case.

“Why do you think Rebecca is involved?” You asked, somewhat nervously.

You sat across from Dean as he sat on the couch, cross-legged in a papasan chair, one hand tapping your thigh nervously and the other holding your floral patterned mug.

“We’re just trying to rule her out as a suspect, Ma’am. As soon as we do that, the sooner we can get to figuring out what’s been happening around here.” He had reassured you. “Are you sure you haven’t been noticing any irregularities in her routine?”

“We have each other on some tracking app, just to be safe, y’know? She tells me that she leaves her job at 7:30 every Thursday, which is a fifteen minute drive from here. Rebecca would always tell me when she should be home, just in case anything happened,” You sighed.

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he waited patiently for you to continue.

“About three months ago, she just kinda’ stopped doin’ it. She’s been going out a lot more than normal, with a big group of girls– met ‘em at work, she said.” “Do you know where they’ve been going?”

“Mostly just to clubs around town. I checked one day because she hadn’t been home all night and I was worried. Her last location was some place near Lake Pontchartrain, a few miles deep into the woods. I tried finding it online, but nothing turned up. Rebecca hates being outside, she hates camping and all that stuff, so there’s no reason for her to be there.”

“Do you happen to have an exact location?”

Your head shook. “It’s a big area, not a lot of cell towers.”

Dean leaned forward and took your hand, which had still been tapping against your leg. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Sweetheart.” The next night, a Thursday, Sam and Dean had tracked the coven down to some ritual spot in the middle of the forest. It didn’t take them long, considering that half a mile out, they could hear terrified cries for help.

They found you, tied to a tree and begging for your life as the witches teased and taunted you– even the girl who you told them you considered your best friend.

“You know, Y/N, you’re just too sweet sometimes. You even let an entire coven slip under your nose, because you couldn’t think for a second that your best friend would ever hurt you.” Rebecca sneered, kneeling in front of you and tracing the swell of your cheek with a knife.

“Please, Becca, don't hurt me, I won’t tell anyone!” You cried, tugging against the ropes that cut into your wrists.

Dean was ready to jump out and kill her right then, but Sam’s arm across his chest kept him at bay. For now. “Don’t hurt me! Please, spare me. Killing you is the key to getting everything I’ve ever wanted! You’re the one who kept telling me to do what I wanted for once!” Dean watched as the large bonfire cast an orange glow over your terrified features, and his chest ached that he couldn’t quell that fear. It made him think back to Lisa, how much he cared for her. Only after a week, wasDean absolutely enamored with you.

It didn’t take long for the brothers to swing into action, killing the witches with surprising ease. They were plenty in number, but their skill couldn’t rival the brothers’ experience.

As Sam cut your ropes, Dean was chasing after Rebecca as she chanted out a string of Latin. By the time he killed her, the damage had been done and you were writhing on the forest floor, water coming out of your mouth like there was a well in your lungs.

You collapsed into Dean’s arms, grasping at your throat as your eyes watered, chest heaving through the pain.

“Find the fucking bag!” Dean yelled, maneuvering you on your knees, face pointed at the ground as you drowned in open air. Sam dropped to the ground, fumbling through piles of leaves and dirt to find the offending item. In the scramble, the hex bag was kicked near the fire, causing Dean to yank his gun out and shoot it, breaking the spell.

You gasped for breath like a fish out of water as you coughed up the last of the water wheezing and panicking from the fear. “It's okay, you’re safe.” Dean comforted, holding you to his chest as your body was wracked with sobs.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart.”

When they were leaving town, Dean made one last stop to visit you in the hospital where you were recovering.

“How are you feelin’, Sweetheart?” He asked, sitting next to your hospital bed. The doctors had decided to keep you for observation for a few days, citing potential damage to your lungs.

“Like hell,” You said with a grin. “Y’all headin’ off?”

Dean nodded. “Gotta head back home. Do you have anywhere you’re planning on going once you’re out of this dump?”

“Not really. I don’t have any family I’m close to, so nobody to couch-surf with. I’m definitely leavin’, though. ‘M not quite sure where I’ll end up.”

He could hear the tinge of sadness in your voice. He knew what it was like to not have a family, a place to call home. He knew it all too well.

“Come with us.”

The rest was history.

Dean couldn’t help but think back to that day often. How lucky he was to have saved at least one life that day. Your life.

He often felt dirty. You were a bright young girl, who could’ve had a great future, had you not been caught up in the mess of their lives. Not once did you ever complain, going with the flow and learning what you could to help them. You were so selfless, almost to a fault; you put up with his temper, his yelling, and when he was feeling particularly annoying. You helped clean his wounds when he was hurt, and when he was once sick, you made him tomato and rice soup, that tasted just like what Mary would make when he still held his innocence.

Dean took his whiskey neat, while you stuck to those same girly cocktails that Sam swore he didn't like.

You were too good to be tarnished by the likes of Dean Winchester.

Dean would always be an eternally bitter man who was constantly angry at something. He rose early due to incessant nightmares, drinking black coffee at three in the morning to stave off his near constant exhaustion. When those nightmares were about you, as they often were, nowadays, he would poke his head in your bedroom just a few doors down, his heart rate calming at how soft you looked, wrapped up in your blankets and a small light on your desk casting a warm light around the room.

Your skin would always glow under the light, illuminating your features and the curve of your nose, how your hair fell into your face and how you would let out a wistful sigh every so often.

You were such a stark contrast to the man who stood in your doorway almost every night. If Dean was marble, you were a flower that could be crushed under it. He was the knife, you were the sacrificial lamb. No matter what universe, Dean would ultimately be your demise, just like everyone else in his life.

As he would gently close the door, he would take one last look at you and whisper one sentence.

“You’re too sweet for me.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #starspyderfics #supernatural #supernatural x reader

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mlmxreader · 1 month

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Room For One More | Dean Winchester x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi can I request “The undead surround me. Have you ever talked to a corpse? It's boring! I'm lonely!” with dean Winchester please?

Thanks! ❞

: ̗̀➛ A hunter's lifestyle is difficult enough as it is, but it's even harder when you have an unnatural ability that can't be explained.

: ̗̀➛ alcohol consumption, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Nobody ever really knew what you were, as not only could you see the dead, but you had the ability to actually speak to them as well; morgues and graveyards were atrocious places for you to be, as you were constantly cornered into conversation even if you didn't want it.

You were born and raised as a hunter, and it was only natural that you had known the Winchesters; only three years younger than Sam, you were good friends with them both, although you only saw them few and far between.

But as you grew older, you learned to actually control your little gift, and you learned that it led to a lifetime of loneliness and boredom, too.

You did sometimes wonder if the Winchesters were ever in the same boat, but they had their family, and you didn't; it seemed like the moment you turned twenty, you were completely on your own, and as the years went by, you came to realise that you were right.

You were on your own, and you always would be; nobody would ever understand what you could do, and if they did, they always assumed you were a demon or a witch or a vampire or whatever.

So they ran, and they left you all alone every time.

But luck was never on your side; a job in Mississippi turned to you meeting with the Winchesters again, and while Sam was doing some investigation at the library, you and Dean were hunkered down in the motel together. Sharing beer and talking shit between going through just about everything.

"So," he coughed. "You still got that, erm, direct line to Casper?"

You glared at him, shaking your head. "You mean, can I still talk to the dead?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Can you?"

"It's not something I can turn on and off at will," you huffed. "Every time I walk through a morgue or a cemetery, the dead surround me. Have you ever talked to a corpse? It's boring! I'm lonely!"

Dean quirked a brow, tilting his head to the side. "I thought you could control it?"

"I can control it anywhere else," you told him. "Just not there... honestly, you should try it for a couple of days - listen to Old Man Jenkins rant about how kids these days are always on their phones, or or how television these days is shit! You try explaining that Rock Hudson was gay to Granny Letitia!"

Dean chortled loudly as he covered his mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly. "You really had to have that conversation?"

"Several times," you groaned. "It's boring, Dean!"

He shrugged, pouting a little. "It could've been worse, though. I mean, at least you're talking to Granny Letitia and not someone worse."

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, and that makes me such a catch, right? Waking up in the middle of the night to tell Old Uncle Bob that no, I can't bring him back from the dead. Guys sure love that!"

His smile dropped, and he nodded slowly as he cleared his throat. "Hey, you me and both... we're not... we're not ever gonna get the normal, white picket fence life. People like us, we don't get normal."

You raised your beer slightly before taking a long swig. "I'll sure drink to that."

Dean eyed you curiously; last time he saw you was about a year ago, and he remembered thinking that you were good-looking then, but now?

Something was different. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way you held yourself. Maybe it was how your lips looked and how he couldn't take his eyes from your mouth. He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

"Talking to corpses," you scoffed. "Even other hunters won't get involved with someone who does that. Not even psychics will. But I don't expect you to understand - you don't... you have a family. You have Sam, and Bobby... I don't. I don't have anyone."

"You got me," he said quietly. "I might not be family, but erm... I'm still here."

"I appreciate it," you sighed out. "I really do, but... Dean, can I be honest with you?"

"Always," he nodded curtly, putting aside everything in front of him.

You rab a hand down your face, chewing at the corner of your lip for a moment. "I'm lonely in the romantic sense, man. I mean, I... I want a partner, y'know? But I... no one ever stays long enough once they find out about... this."

Dean nodded slowly. He probably understood that feeling more than anyone else in the world, and as he looked at you, he could only hang his head. "I get it. I mean, y'know, I'd be lying if I said I never wanted it - a family, a spouse... all that."

"Right?" You said quietly. "I know it's not... look, I know as a hunter, I'll never have a normal life - but thanks to... this! Whatever the fuck you wanna call it! I can't even have a fucking partner."

Slowly, Dean crossed the room to sit next to you, and with a harsh gulp, he gently put his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're a hunter, I'm a hunter. Monsters hate you as much as they hate me and Sammy, and y'know... maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I mean, I wouldn't worry about you being safe, and you wouldn't worry about me..."

"But it would be ling distance," you pointed out.

"Or not," he shrugged. "There's room in the Impala for one more."

You stared at him for a moment, furrowing your brows. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, daring to smile. "Course I am... as long as you wanna try, I'll try, too - besides, it could be handy, having the undead on speed dial."

"Dean," you deadpanned.

"I'm joking," he chuckled. "Sorta. Mostly."

Gently, you smacked his chest, shaking your head. "Talk to Sam, first. I don't... y'know, I don't wanna be a nuisance."

"Sammy will be fine," Dean reassured, hooking his finger under your chin and forcing you to look into his pretty green eyes. "I'm willing to try, if you are. If you wanna come with us, then... then there's room for you. There always will be... just don't tell Old Man Jenkins or Granny Letitia about me, right?"

You could only laugh as you put your hand on his face, cupping his jaw softly. "Of course not."

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deangirlsstuff67 · 1 year

Text

Wanna Touch?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Nipple and Clit Piercing, dirty talk, fingering, oral mentioned, Unprotected sex, P in V, cum play, creampie, PWP

Summary: Dean's been with his share of women, but none have ever had piercings.

Masterlist | Patreon

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Dean's always been a charmer. Could get into any woman's panties with just a sexy smirk and wink. Y/N was no different, you'd have to be blind not to fall in love with the man.

The boys saved y/n ass on a solo hunt one day years ago and since then the three have been inseparable. Even added Cas and Jack to their little family along the way.

You never allowed yourself to cross the invisible line you placed in the sand. You also highly doubt Dean sees you any other way than a friend. Knowing your luck he sees you like he sees Charlie, a little sister.

Friend zoned by your own doing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean and you are training yet again this week. It started when you went to the gym this morning sexually frustrated after dreaming of a certain green eyed hunter.

Hoping hitting the bag will relieve some tension.

Wrong.

Dean found you a hour later asking if you wanted to do some training. Knowing it was a bad idea you agreed, at least he would be touching you. Nothing turns you on more than playing with fire.

That's how you found yourself in this situation. Dean has you pinned by your throat against the gym wall. Both of you breathing heavy and staring at one another. His leg is between your thighs while he's hard body is pinning yours.

In your spandex work out shorts you have the perfect feeling against your clit hood piercing. He's rubbing in all the right ways without knowing it.

Your mind is a fog of desire as you drown in the sound of his husky voice. All of a sudden a moan slips from your lips,silencing Dean.

Embarrassed and even more frustrated than before you try to wiggle out of his grasp. That make fires and your eyes roll when you hit your piercing again.

God that feels amazing.

You feel his thigh move slightly drawing another breathy moan from you. "Well shit." Then he does it again.

Move. Moan. Move. Moan. Pretty soon your riding his thigh. Dean brings his lips to yours, taking them in a deep passionate kiss. You bite down on his lower lip causing his hips to jerk into your body. His hard and big.

Soon it's not enough. You need him to touch you. "Dean, please."

"I got you sweetheart." You feel his large hand descend down your body and beneath your waist band. You have done laundry yet, and just prefer to be commando.

"Youre going to kill me y/n." His calloused fingers spread your lower lips wide as he finds your clit. Just when you thought he was going to put you out of your misery, he stills.

Looking at his shocked face you begin to think he's regretting this, "what's wrong?"

"Fuck that's hot." He flicks your piercing, watching pleasure wash over your features. "Never gotten to play with one of these before." He flicks it again, this time smiling as he watches you. "Oh baby, I'm going to have fun with you."

Before you can respond He is knuckle deep with two thick fingers in your dripping core, thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit, purposely hitting the jeweled ring every time.

Moaning in your ear he asks, "you're dripping sweetheart , all this from my hands on your body?"

"Yes Dean."

He quickly works you over. Has you clamping down around his fingers as he works you through it. Pulling his fingers from your shorts he puts them in your mouth and you suck the taste of yourself from them, making him groan.

"Next time baby. Right now I need to be in you."

Releasing his fingers with a 'pop', "god... yes"

He holds you against the wall still, wrapping your legs around his waist before pull his sweats just far enough down to release his huge cock. Looking down you see his perfect cock glistening with pre cum and angry.

Dean captures your lips with his again as he thrusts himself to the hilt in your velvety walls. You cry out with the stretch he causes as your body struggles to take him.

"Son of a bitch y/n, you feel amazing." Then he begins to slowly thrust inside of you.

After a couple minutes you need more, "Dean... more please. I need more."

Dean doesn't have to be asked twice. Smiling before taking your nipple through your sports bra and snapping his hips fast and rough into your tight core.

"God damn even your nipples are pierced." He bites down on one, sending you into the strongest orgasm you've ever experienced. "Going to have to play with these later."

You feel his rhythm faulter as he's release grows closer. Three more hard thrusts and his fingers rubbing your clit into another small orgasm, thanks to his new toy, you feel find splatter your inner walls in warmth as rope after rope of cum fills you.

His cum begins to leak past his cock as he slowly thrusts into your soaked pussy to completely empty himself. Groans and whimpers fill the otherwise silent room.

He's head on your chest you both try to catch your breath for a moment. His now softening cock slips from you, your combined juices begin to leak from your opening.

You feel a low growl vibrates your chest, "fuck, look at you leaking my cum and making a mess." His fingers begin to play with the mess between your legs, "shit that's fucking sexy as sin."

You feel him grow against you leg. Round two it is.

#dean girl #dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x you #deanwinchtser #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x original female character #dean winchester x reader

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profoundbondfanfic · 4 months

Text

Having fun this Christmas? Need a break from all the running around and stuff to prepare or family to meet? Or maybe you need a little pick-me-up because we all know how tough this time of the year can be as well. Then dig right in.

And Even In The Quiet Night by KelpietheThundergod [General audiences, 7k words]

He couldn't answer with the truth when Jody had asked him, concern bleeding through her typical gruffness, “You okay, kiddo? Since when do you care about Christmas?” He doesn't, of course, not really. It's just that Christmas is a widely accepted excuse to cook enough food for an entire baseball team, then eat too much and lounge on the couch surrounded by family and argue about which movie to watch. Or so Dean thinks. Really, it was just a stupid – it's not like Dean is lonely. Sam is here, Cas is here, and the others are – well, mostly not here. But really, it should be enough. Dean is a grown-ass man, he can deal with being alone on Christmas. (Or, the one in which no one cares about Christmas but Dean)

Dance Real Close by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat) [Explicit, 5k words]

For the umpteenth time tonight, Castiel swallows and clenches his teeth, hard enough that he might just need a dentist appointment once this horrendous evening comes to its inevitable end and he has what he came for. Good thing the company has excellent health care. He forces his gaze into a faux-thousand yard stare, a wilful attempt to get lost among the many twinkling lights and ornaments. Just off of the shoulder of the man who is his current, last and most annoying obstacle. Dean Winchester. Dressed to the nines in a suit of snowflake white, he fits in at this high-end Yule Ball as if he hasn’t done anything else in his life. Top of his class and generation, ten years Castiel’s junior, much too skilled for his own good at nigh anything from close combat to subterfuge to extraction, his competition, who is, for some unfathomable reason, flirting with Castiel on the mission.

From Your Secret Santa by ILoveLucey [Teen and up, 26k words]

Dean and Sam have had a tough year. Their dad died, leaving them parentless, and Dean has had to pick up the slack to make sure his little brother is fed, clothed, and has a roof over his head. To say that Dean is not in the Christmas spirit this year is an understatement. That is, until Dean gets a secret Santa who wants nothing more than to make the brothers' Christmas a cheerful one. The mysterious gift-giver apparently plans to do that with twelve days of cheesy poems, dorky activities, and, okay, some actually really nice presents. Dean hates to admit it but before the twelve days of Christmas are over his mood is effectively turned around. The only thing is, he's pretty sure his secret Santa is actually more of a secret admirer. It could be anyone from the Roadhouse trivia teams but there is only one person he wants it to be - his brown-haired, blue-eyed, oh-so-sexy best friend who has been there for him through everything and who he has a major, secret crush on.

Here's to Many More by wincechesters [Explicit, 15k words]

After a blowout at his parents' house on Christmas Eve, Castiel resigns himself to a lonely, miserable holiday. On his way home he finds himself at a dive bar, spilling his life story to the handsome, charming bartender he's just met. It's an unlikely set of circumstances, but when the bartender invites him to come home with him, Castiel says yes—and it looks like he might not be spending his Christmas alone and miserable after all.

I Love New York by followyourenergy [Explicit, 44k words]

When Dean’s brother can’t go on their planned trip to New York City, Dean goes alone. He meets Cas, a man who’s there to “do things differently” and invites Dean to do the same. Through their adventures, Dean expands not only his palate, but his idea of who he is, who he can be…and who he can be with.

Orna-meant to Be by MalMuses [Teen and Up, 5k words]

It's been a long year, but Castiel and his vampire boyfriend Dean have finally reached their first Christmas together. The first of many, if Dean has his way. A fluffy holiday timestamp in the Bat Dean 'Verse.

Snowy Blue by Kitmistry [Teen and Up, 3k words]

On the brink of a new year, Dean runs into an old friend.

The Prince Switch by teacass (Fushigi) [Teen and up, 12k words]

Castiel couldn’t see much in the dark, but there was a silhouette of a tall person standing in the room opposite of his. Judging from the depth of the voice, it must have been Dean Winchester, Jimmy’s best friend, sous chef, and co-owner of the bakery. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel whispered. Even he heard it sounded way too official and too much like his princely self, so he quickly corrected. “I mean, hi. It’s just me. Go back to sleep.” “What are you doing up?” Dean asked. Oh, it’s nothing. I just snuck out of the palace in the middle of the night to switch places with your best friend, Castiel thought. “I couldn’t sleep,” Castiel said out loud. “Too excited about the whole competition thing.”

#destiel #group rec #holidays

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deancashorrorfest · 6 months

Text

Step right up to another wondrous round of DeanCas Horrorfest! The writers and the artists have collaborated to make this year one for the history books. We've got ghouls, we've got monsters, we've got blood, we've got gay love --- And when I say you shouldn't miss this, I mean you really don't want to miss this collection of spooky stories... you really don't know what could happen if you do 🤡🔪 I'd like to thank all our contributors for keeping the spirit of samhain alive and well. DeanCas Horrorfest would be nothing without enthusiastic cult members participants like you. ❤ So, without further ado...

You Better Not Stay || Rated E

story by @friendofcarlotta with art by @demeters-sketchbook

Recent high school graduates Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been friends since childhood, and dating in secret for a little over a year. But their relationship has an expiration date: Cas is leaving town, and Dean… well, Dean isn’t. Not with his dad breathing down his neck and a family business to run.

For their final date, Dean takes Cas to the old skating rink where they used to spend time as kids. What Dean doesn’t know is that when the rink closed down, something else took up residence there. And it won’t let them go without a fight. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The (After) Life of the Party || Rated M

story by @thebatmandiaries with art by @milfycas

After a fight with Sam one night, Dean wakes up in a world he is unfamiliar with. This world only has one rule: kill or be killed. As a designated Killer, he must kill all the Survivors before they have a chance to complete their task. If he doesn’t, he ruins the risk of becoming a Survivor himself. With the help of Charlie and Benny, other Killers, he slowly finds his footing in the new world he was thrust into. If only there wasn’t a strange blue eyed man to distract him… Link to Fic || Link to Art

Danger In The Mirror || Rated M

story by @dwinchester1979 with art by @keikakudom

Castiel is pulled through the mirror into a nightmare. Now his husband has to cover for his mysterious missing presence as he desperately tries to get Castiel back. Can they figure out the secret of the mirror before time runs out, or will Castiel have to face the girl with the silver dagger all alone? Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Beginning || Rated E

story by @valleydean with art by @hawkland

One year ago, soon after Lucifer was freed from the Cage, Dean and Sam parted ways. Since then, Dean has been hunting on his own and, along with Cas despite his declining grace, searching for a way to prevent the apocalypse. When the outbreak of the Croatoan virus begins, Dean and Cas head to Bobby’s to plan their next move. On the way, as the contagion rapidly spreads through America, they must contend with the rabid infected, martial law, and humans who will do anything to ensure their own survival. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Clutch || Rated M

story by @dogfishmonger with art by @dolgoyangi

Dean is a normal, stable man in his 20s: He has a job. He has a boyfriend of three years, even if they're on the rocks. He has a little brother in pre-law. There are, simultaneously, things in his upbringing that he simply isn't supposed to question: His father's unexplained, undefined trips out of state. His mother's death. The body he once found in the basement. When Sam runs off in search of answers, Dean and Cas head east to find him. But after catching up with him, something's... different. Wrong. Dean and Cas are at odds—again—with Dean believing that Sam could be in danger, and Cas suspicious that Sam is the danger. Returning to normalcy will involve more digging into forbidden territory than Dean was ever prepared for. In the end, he doesn't even know if it was worth it. They're left with just as many questions as answers, and the answers they do have are ugly, insidious things, glistening oil-spill black and undulating. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Void Within || Rated E

story by @preetkiran1016 with art by @sketcheun

Dean's still getting used to the ache of loss and grief burning a hole into his chest. Still not used to the empty space where his brothers used to be. His life is a day to day drudgery, the eternal crawl, and since Cas broke up with him, he's not quite sure what he's got left to stick around for. When Jack and Claire go missing, well, he can't just sit back and watch. Digging deeper, Dean finds himself caught in the middle of a complicated web he can't hope to begin to untangle. Missing Kids, Doomsday Cults, and the sudden return of Castiel in his life have Dean spiraling, even with his trusted Service Dog, Miracle, by his side. But the one question remains, above all others- Who were the Men of Letters, and what were they doing in Lawrence? Dean doesn't think he's going to like the answer. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Crawling Dark || Rated T

story by @sylvanfreckles with art by @cactus-79

Dean was hoping for a straightforward case, something that would let him and Castiel have a little private time together. But what they found in the caves beneath Delving, Colorado was a stinking labyrinth of a death and decay, with an ancient horror at its heart. At the mercy of the darkness around them, Dean and Castiel must face a creature of immeasurable strength and insatiable hunger, with light as their only salvation. After all, it is better to light a candle than to curse the crawling dark. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Apres Moi, Le Deluge || Rated M

story by @folkbloodbaths with art by @an-android-in-a-tutu

Dean and Sam are on a camping trip, and they haven’t been home in a few days. When a sudden rainstorm and an injured ankle have them seeking shelter, an abandoned ranger’s cabin offers an unexpected port in the storm. Except, the abandoned cabin isn’t abandoned. Is its occupant, Castiel, just a recluse, or is he someone — or something — more sinister? Dean can’t help but feel drawn to him, even as he begins to have strange and terrible dreams about rising flood waters and a canopy of billowing black wings. And still, the rain continues to fall. Link to Fic || Link to Art (cw for flashing gif)

For Crying Out Loud || Rated M

story by @rowanspn with art by @solstheimart

Their relationship is perfect. At least, it was once. After a harrowing rescue from the depth of the Empty, a heartfelt reunion, and a breath of reciprocation, Castiel and Dean started to live life as they deserved. However, every Winchester knows that happiness does not stay long, not for that bloodline anyway. One night, following a fight worse than ever before, a terrible accident rips Castiel's life, and heart, in two. The guilt threatens to consume him but there is something far darker hiding in the shadows of his home. Will Castiel find a way to survive the ache in his chest or will the evil within his lonely walls kill him before it gets the chance? Link to Fic || Link to Art

Shall We Begin Again? || Rated E

story by @livingonaprayerstiel with art by @blanchescarlettm

Castiel is rescued from the Empty and wants to pick up where he left off with Dean. But, it is soon revealed that the Empty is not as gone as it seems. Castiel will have to find out who or what can be trusted as he acclimates to his new life. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Tenebrous || Rated E

story by @deancodedcastielenby with art by @hawkland

The war is over, Chuck is done and it's now the time where the Winchesters get peace... or is it. The war against God may be over, but that doesn't mean smooth sailing. Jack promises to be hands off, but there is a storm coming almost 12 years in the making. Sam knows something is wrong with Dean, it started out small, but now.... now it's become a problem so he enlists the aid of Rowena and Eileen, the only ones he can count on, to help him solve the mystery of Dean Winchester before its too late. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Conversion || Rated E

story by @bleuzombie with art by @nickelkeep

In order to avoid a jail sentence trans man Dean agrees to attend religious-based residential treatment for 90 days. Dean fights to maintain his sense of self as he is attacked mentally, and physically, and fights to protect his new friends Charlie and Castiel. Soon the treatment turns to torture. Jail would have been preferable. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Elevator Game || Rated E

story by @motherofdragonflies with art by @xfancyfranart

The game is simple. Get in an elevator, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own. When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”. He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam. Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late? The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story. But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Like Ivy || Rated E

story by @abi-cosmos with art by @soloarcana

Dean Winchester was raised to be a killer, but after losing his brother Sam, he could do with a chance to lay low and rest up. Luckily, a 'roommate wanted' advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop leads him to Castiel, a professor at a local college who offers him three weeks' accommodation. At first, Castiel gets under Dean's skin, but they soon develop a friendship within the isolated house they're living in. Despite how haunted he is by his past, or how Castiel seems able to read his mind, Dean feels drawn to him and can't help but take things further. But Dean isn't the only one with secrets, and the line between friendship, love, and obsession gets bloody and blurry. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Rough Trade || Rated E

story by @squirrelofcelestialintent with art by @alicetallula

Dean is used to doing what he has to in order to get by, especially whenever his tough, temperamental father kicks him out during one of his rages. Even if it means getting on his knees for a little extra cash. He can take care of himself. He always knew the dangers of a trick going sideways, and he accepted it. What he didn’t expect was for someone to burst out of the darkness and save his sorry ass. Least of all a weird, nerdy little dude who seems to have just as many secrets as Dean and doesn’t know how to use a vending machine. Dean has street smarts and Castiel has (a little) cash. They’re both headed for the west coast to find their families. Teaming up seems like a safe bet. But the more time Dean spends with Cas, the weirder he seems. And the more he suspects that what he saw Cas do to his attacker on the day that he saved him - the terrible, inhuman thing - wasn’t a trauma induced hallucination after all. Screw it. With someone on their tail, Dean’s going to find out who his real enemies are soon enough. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Autumn Obscurum || Rated M

story by @xiejie-liubo with art by @hawaii-shirt-queer

Bartholomew's Bend is a quiet, ordinary place where ordinary people live their ordinary lives. Nothing of note ever happens, and all of the citizens are content to keep it that way. However, their tranquility is shattered when a series of disappearances startles the town's denizens, coinciding with the arrival of the Carnivale Obscurum and its proprietors, Asmodeus and Sands. Inspired by Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes Link to Fic || Link to Art

Can You See Me? || Rated T

story by @kingdumbass with art by @ephemerastardust

Sioux Falls, South Dakota. 1995. After being stowed with their Uncle Bobby for the foreseeable future, Dean and Sam set out to make the most of their summer ‘vacation’. When they aren’t filling warm afternoons splashing in the creek, riding their bicycles, or suffering through old TV reruns, they’re in for cleanup duty. Namely, sorting through all of Bobby’s old crap. One day, while rummaging through the long-forgotten attic, Sam discovers an antique spirit board and convinces a skeptical Dean to try summoning a spirit. The results of which turn out to be a little more supernatural than Dean bargained for. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Link to Ao3 Collection

Happy Halloween! 🎃👻

#deancashorrorfest #deancas horrorfest masterpost #destiel fic rec #happy halloween

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apocalypseornaw · 11 months

Text

Bad Idea

Bobby told you to stay away from Sam. You knew he wasn't the same man you'd known after Dean's death, you knew he was involved with Ruby but despite all of that you had to make one final plea rather to say goodbye or remind him of who he was

Warnings: cursing,mention of blood drinking?, NSFW stuff happening

It'd taken you two days to track Sam down between hunts. You weren't sure what you would say when you got to him or even if he'd speak to you, chances were Ruby was following him around like an annoying evil bitch of a puppy that you'd love nothing more than to stab with her own knife.

You pulled up to the outside of a motel that couldn't be described as anything but shitty and you had squatted in a few abandoned houses with the boys and Bobby in the past on hunts. You weren't sure what to expect but you parked your mustang next to the impala which would always be easy to spot. You'd called ahead and had luckily guessed what alias Sam had used.

You locked your car then walked to the door of room two fifty five. You owed it to Dean and to Sam to at least try to get him to come to Bobby's with you. You knocked after checking that you had holy water in your jacket pocket and the feel of your gun at your back was a familiar weight.

----------

A moment later the door opened to reveal a haggard looking Sam. Dark circles under his eyes along with a hollow look in them. It hurt you to see him like this. "Y/N what are you doing here? How did you find me?" You pushed past him into the room, clocking every corner to ensure it was just him before you said "I may not be Dean but I do know you pretty well"

He raised both eyebrows slightly then a smirk almost appeared on his face but he quickly buried it "Well you found me. What do you want? I mean I'm not coming back to Bobby's" you nodded turning to face him "I figured that. Look I just wanna talk. Is it just gonna be you? I mean can I take my jacket off or am I gonna have to fight that black eyed skank before the night's out, cause honestly I haven't been having the best last few weeks either so I'm down to play either way"

He laughed at that, the sound was a hollow echo of his usual laugh. "She's not coming here" you nodded. You pulled your jacket off and draped it across his duffle bag. "Gonna lay your gun down or am I a threat?" You shrugged "I don't want to consider you a threat" you laid the gun down on top of your jacket then turned to face him. He wasn't high, he looked like maybe he'd hit withdraws, rather lack of blood from Ruby not being around or his own choice you weren't sure.

----------

"Why are you doing this Sam? I get it, losing Dean hurt. Hell it hurt me and Bobby too" he cut you off by shaking his head "Y/N no offense but you didn't watch your only family get ripped to shreds by a hellhound because he made a deal to save your life"

His words hurt on some level of course but you knew the Winchesters well enough to know their defense mechanisms. "He might have been your only blood left but he's not your only family Sam. I'm here, Bobby would be there for you. We love you"

He took a step towards you and it took everything in you to keep your feet planted. He wouldn't normally be a threat to you but this Sam? The air around him felt off, wrong. He wasn't quite the man you'd known for years but you knew that man was still in there. "Then why did you just drop into a fighting stance?" He asked glancing down towards your body. You hadn't realized you moved until he pointed it out, you'd done it on instinct alone.

"I haven't seen you in weeks Sam. I want to trust that I'm safe with you but some of the choices you're making doesn't help" He nodded stepping even closer to you and this time you allowed yourself the movement of stepping back, putting breathing room between you and him put also putting your back to a wall.

----------

You glanced towards your jacket and the gun that laid atop it. You had a knife stuck into your boot but could you really use it on Sam?

He chuckled darkly placing a hand on either side of your head meaning he effectively had you trapped between his body and the wall "You forgetting I know you too? You just clocked your gun and the knife that's in your left boot" the last words he spoke you could feel his warm breath fanning over your neck "Could you kill me? Be honest"

You turned to meet his eyes. Fuck he was close and despite everything you could feel your stomach jerk when his eyes trailed over your body. Why the hell had you come here alone? You swallowed hard "To save my life? Yeah I could kill you" he smiled "I've always loved that damn fire about you"

His head lowered to your neck, causing a gasp to escape you when his tongue flicked out over your pulse point. "I've always thought about how it would be" "What?" You asked, trying to control your breathing. This wasn't how you expected the night to go.

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He leaned back to be eye to eye with you "Why did you really come here? When I know for a fact Bobby would've told you not to, that I'm too unpredictable and unreliable now" "I couldn't say goodbye to you without it being face to face" you replied and he smiled again "So you're here to say goodbye?"

You nodded, your gaze flicking down to his lips then back up to his eyes. "Yeah, I am" "I don't think that's all you want" you couldn't think straight. So much had happened in such a short time. You'd fucking missed him so much and damn you'd wanted him for years.

"Fuck it" you muttered before pulling him down to you. The moment your lips touched his he groaned into the kiss. You tangled your fingers into his hair tugging roughly as he deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue against yours. His large hands gripped your hips tightly causing you to gasp against his lips.

He broke away from you long enough to rest his forehead against yours "You want this?" You nodded, not trusting your voice but he shook his head "Verbal confirmation Y/N" "I want this" you spoke and he grinned "Good"

His hands went to the hem of your shirt and you moved to help him pull it over your head. He chucked the thin material behind him then leaned down to take one of your clothed breasts into his mouth. "Fuck Sam" you groaned, feeling your knees weaken and the wetness between your legs grow. He smiled against your chest "I love that"

---------

Before you knew it he had your bra off along with his shirt and was moving to pull your jeans off your legs. "I'll take my time later but right now I want to feel that pretty little pussy stretched around me"

He kicked his jeans off then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and lining himself up with your opening "You're sure?" He asked one final time "Just fuck me Sam" you begged and that was all it took. He buried himself inside of you with one thrust.

Your head fell back in a silent scream. Fuck he was big. He moved to support your back against the wall, catching your lips in a hungry kiss while he let you adjust to him. You chased his lips even as he pulled back to look at your face "I'm good. Just move please"

----------

He sat a grueling pace, each thrust of his hips making you see stars despite the chances of your back being bruised the following day from it digging into the wall behind you.

Your fingers dug into his forearms, looking for something to ground yourself amongst the pleasure coursing through your body. "Can you take more baby?" He asked and you nodded "I can take it" he shifted his hips just slightly but it was enough to push you over the edge. Your vision went hazy around the edges when your orgasm washed over you, your fingernails biting into his skin.

You could feel his thrusts getting sloppily and knew he was close. You moved your hand just enough to push his sweat soaked hair out his face "Come for me Sam. Fill me up, let me feel it" at your words his thrusts got harder and faster, his eyes screwed shut as he chased that release. His hands were gripping you hard enough to leave bruises but you didn't care. When he buried himself deep inside of you with one final thrust the feeling of his release pushed you over the edge causing you to tighten around him as another orgasm washed through you.

He laughed breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours "Was that our goodbye or can I have a little more time with you?" You turned your head to catch his lips in a lingering kiss "You can have a little more time"

---------

He turned with you in his arms to walk over to the bed. He laid you down, gently pulling out "I was hoping I'd get a little longer with you if this is goodbye" you reached for his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you "No more talking"

The only proof Sam had of the night between you and him ever happening was a letter he found a week later in his jacket pocket that read "Find me if you figure out where you truly belong"

He shoved it back into his pocket before following Ruby out the door of the place he was currently squatting at. He had to do things his way and you deserved better than he could give.

Part 2

#sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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wellofdean · 13 days

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Just wanted to split this off from this post about why Mary Winchester is excellent because it's getting so long, but I wanted to respond to these tags from @kayliemalinza :

#sometimes i feel people hate john for reasons that while valid in our universe less valid in the spn universe#but mary gets it way worse#<-- prev tags yessss#also doing the math wasn't she like 28 when she died#i'm glad they didn't recast and of course samantha smith looks her own age#but mary is in fact YOUNGER THAN SAM AND DEAN AT THIS POINT#they are not children#and the tags copied above i think explains so sos ooo much#bc so many fans glommed onto dean because of similar family issues#and that means they are struggling as much as dean is in s12#and just can't disconnect that quite yet#but god#GOD how she struggles with that emotional intimacy#she was raised as a hunter you don't think she's chockablock full of maladaptive coping mechanisms too?

Because I whole-heartedly agree with this. John Winchester was not a good father in some major, major ways, and Sam and Dean had a childhood straight out of a...well, a horror/fantasy genre show...but I think people forget that Sam and Dean also do truly love John and truly are more or less at peace with their memory of him later in the series, and there has to be a reason for that, too. It's not that he's a mustache-twirling villain; it's complicated. He loved them, but he wasn't always able to do it right. They love him, but he hurt them and made the what they are, which is a double-edged sword.

It's really natural that we all identify with Dean, and get angry at people who hurt him, but I think it's important to realize that Dean processes his anger about Mary leaving pretty quickly, because it's not really anger and resentment, it's confusion, disappointment and hurt. And I think Dean is grown enough to own his own feelings, and able to accept that she needs time and space, and he's not such a child that he isn't capable of separating his legitimate feelings from her legitimate needs. It takes him time, but he gets there, because, and this is another conversation, Dean is really very reflective and emotionally intelligent, actually.

I also do agree that a lot of fans, in identifying with Dean, map their own feelings about their parents onto Mary, and dislike her for reasons that have nothing to do with the story being told on Supernatural, which is essentially a very healing one. Since I'm a Gen-X old, and the mother of an adult son, I actually had a pretty different experience, and as much as I love Dean, in this storyline, I identified a lot with Mary.

On the one hand, she has to be so proud of her two big, beautiful, brave and heroic sons, but at the same time she does not know them! They don't need her, and they are trying to protect her from the things she feels they should have been protected from, and at the same time, as adult men who are still, in some way, motherless boys, they are hungry (especially Dean) for her to be something that she never had a chance to grow into. I loved it that her own exigencies were too strong to LET her stay. I loved that she could not accept the role of mother that had been stolen from her, and could not sit still to let it just kind of settle on her shoulders.

It made me think that (aw yeah!) there was a difference between John's sainted white nightgown conception of his dead wife (his motivation to be what he was), and Dean's memory of her as the cutter off of crusts from his sandwiches, or the mother that he comforted when she was sad, and he was just a little man. I'm so glad that Mary turned out to be so much more than that. She is a woman with her own competencies, her own damage and baggage, and her own ideas about how to make things right, who doesn't agree with her sons all the time, who makes mistakes, who fucks the wrong guy, still loves her problematic husband, and can't actually cook, thank you very much. I love that her own disorientation and her own will are so strong that she really can't allow who she actually is to be subsumed into the communal role of 'mother'.

I think that socially, we don't really think about what we ask of mothers, or how hard we judge them. We underestimate what they give up of themselves to satisfy that role. My son was born when I was really young, and fellas, IT WAS HARD under more or less perfectly normal circumstances, to make the transition from being just me to being a mother. My magnificent son is amazeballs, and is a human being that I am so fucking proud to have made out of my very own actual body and raised to be the excellent human he is, and we are really close, but I was not always prefect, and even now when he is a grown adult, I still chafe against the perception of me as 'his mother' and not just ME all the time. One of the very greatest things about my son is his incredible ability to let me live, and make space for the fact that I am also a person, and not just his mother, and I am so, so grateful to him for that, so....

Yeah. As much as I didn't want to see Dean hurt, I LOVED Mary, and love that they wrote her as her a full human being and not a tropally perfect mother. I loved seeing her as a flawed parent that deserved her adult children's understanding and mature love, who deserved her own space and her own processes. What's more, I loved seeing Dean process his feelings about her, and seeing him become a son who was capable of loving a real human woman who happened to be his mother. So... yes. I love her.

Mary Winchester forever. A+.

#Mary Winchester #Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sorry y'all for another long ass post about this #but #I just have a lot of fucking feelings about Mary ok?

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wandering-winchesters · 10 months

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Grief

Summary: The reader loses her grandfather and eventually seeks comfort from Dean.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,576

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Death, Casket, Grief & Sadness

A/N: This was written mainly for me. The man in this story was based on my grandfather and the memories recounted are my own. I understand if this is not the type of story for you, but it helped me in my grief. Love always x

In the span of two minutes, in the early hours of my otherwise normal Wednesday morning, my world changed forever. Blinking away the fog of sleep, I reached for my phone that was ringing loudly on the nightstand. My cousin’s name was flashing on the screen, a number of missed calls showing in the background a signal of a bigger issue. I hurriedly accept her call, clearing my throat to enable my voice to speak louder than a whisper.

“Hello?” The words that would follow would break my soul in ways that I didn’t know possible.

“He’s gone, Y/N. He passed this morning.” Anything said after that I didn’t hear, I couldn’t process that my grandfather was gone. The call was ended and I sat frozen still tangled in my sheets. The warmth of the blankets no longer enough to replace the chill that had overtaken my skin. Before I knew what I was doing, I climbed out of bed and grabbed my duffle. Beginning the process of packing the bare necessities to get by, the need to get to him was suffocating and pressing in on me like a vice.

Not twenty minutes later, I closed the door to the bunker quietly behind me. I double checked that it was locked, before climbing into the drivers seat of my truck and throwing my bag into the passenger seat. I shot Sam and Dean a quick text, letting them know I was leaving for a few days and not to worry, even though I knew the text would not be enough to convince them of such. The reality of the situation still had not settled, I knew he was gone, but it just didn’t seem possible. I have hours of road ahead of me and focusing on his death was just not an option. The drive crawled by, every mile felt like ten. Every minute an eternity. I was greeted by family, friends and an overwhelming sense of grief. Yet no tears fell, anger was prevalent and boisterous, denial following in its sharp footsteps. Every intended encouragement of “He’s in a better place,” or “He’s no longer in pain.” Only aggravated my anger. Those words meant to comfort and ease my pain, only ignited it further. Everything I saw in his home, reminded me of the good old days. The times spent in the woods bird watching, or in his workshop creating something new and beautiful. The nights where he would sit and hold my hand, singing songs from when he was younger. I found his journal, read the words he had written and saved them for another time the pain too much to bear.

I had many missed calls from the boys, their texts growing more and more concerned as my silence grew greater. Their demands for an explanation only made my desire to ignore them more prevalent. Even though, I knew deep down they were just concerned for my safety. The days passed quickly, the funeral looming closer and closer. The grip that grief had on me was looming, it was as a reaper themselves had their icy hands wrapped around my lungs and throat.

Funeral homes were something that I frequented, many of the cases with the Winchester men ended up in a morgue or a funeral home. I had seen countless dead bodies, in many different forms. However, the morning of the funeral walking into the funeral home, seeing the man who raised me was so very different from every time before. There were many people who loved him that came to show their support, a blur of faces and a mass of stories, he had been so very loved. Yet every minute I stood there was soul shatteringly painful. It was exhausting, my body ached almost as much as my heart. I resorted to every self soothing technique I knew, bracing myself for the next person in line that was waiting to share their grief with me. Yet I survived, I made it through to the end. Everyone else had gone home, yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave his side. I could feel his presence surrounding me, embracing me. I bite my lip, holding back the sobs that have been at bay for days now. The ache in my chest so great it brings me to my knees.

I am caught off guard by familiar strong hands gripping my waist, fully supporting my weight. Dean’s cologne wafts over my senses and the smallest amount of relief floods over me.

“You don’t have to keep hiding your pain, sweetheart. There’s no shame in crying.” He whispers, tugging me back against his body and wrapping his arms around me. I am so overwhelmed and confused as to how he came to be here, that his words go almost unheard.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, clearing my throat to relive the ache ever so slightly.

“I pinged your phone, found your location and checked the local paper. I figured there must be something going on, especially if you told us you were leaving but then wouldn’t tell us where or why. I found his obituary and drove straight here. I’ve been outside for the last few hours, I wanted to give you space. I noticed everyone else leaving, but didn’t see you. So I came to find you.” His voice is soft, comforting and it awakened the sadness within me that I had refused to allow space for until this moment. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and silently began to fall.

“Dean, I-I didn’t want you to see me like this, the weak, crying side of me.” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I spoke. My cheeks heating up as they turn bright red.

“Y/N, I know it hurts. It’s okay to cry, I’ll be here to wipe your tears, sweetheart.” He says, his thumbs rubbing circles into my skin as he continues to hold me tight against him. I take a couple of steps towards the closed casket, Dean close behind me, his hand securely placed on the small of my back. I rest both of my hands on the lid to the casket and let every emotion free. Before I can stop it, a sob leaves my lips, tears are falling hard and hot. I have never cried like this, I have never felt pain like this. The guttural reaction it pulls from me, is something that I have never experienced before. My vision is blurred by the tears collecting in my eyelashes. The mascara and eyeliner I had applied earlier in the day, surely streaking black remnants down my face.

“I couldn’t grieve him, De, I had to be strong for everyone else. They were all relying on me to plan this and put everything together. I didn’t have the time to grieve and now I have to say goodbye. I’m not ready to say goodbye.” I get the words out between sobs, turning to bury my head in Dean’s chest, swallowed up in his embrace. He immediately wraps his arms around me once again, his head coming to rest against the top of my own. His lips brushing against my hair as he murmurs words of comfort, pressing a kiss every so often.

“I’m here, I’m always here.” He whispers once I pull away, he brushes my hair out of my face and caresses my face with his thumb. It’s not until that moment, that I see Sam, he’s sitting silently in the corner of the room. Waiting to offer comfort, but not wanting to encroach on Dean and I. The second our eyes meet, I burst into tears once again. The ache in my chest heavy, surely if I were to die of a broken heart this is what it would feel like. Sam quietly crosses the room and pulls me into his arms, his embrace just as warm and welcoming as Deans.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Y/N.” He says, his grip tightening momentarily before he lets me go. Dean offers me his hand and I gratefully accept it, allowing him to guide me outside. I steal one last glance at the closed casket and follow him closely.

“Can I drive you home, sweetheart?” Dean asks, hesitating outside of my truck, his eyes soft and concerned. I nod, not trusting my voice to give a verbal response. He helps me climb into the passenger seat of my truck, and gently shuts my door. I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes flutter shut. I hear the drivers side door open and feel the truck shift as Dean climbs in and adjusts the seat to his liking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t know how.” I open my eyes and glance over at him as he starts the truck, he gives me a small smile and extends his arm resting his hand on my leg.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I understand completely.” We ride in silence for awhile, my mind a constant rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions. My tears have stopped and everything other than my thoughts are quiet. There is rain hitting the roof of the truck, the tires are crunching against the gravel, but the only other sound is Deans fingers lightly tapping against the steering wheel of the car, keeping rhythm to whatever song is playing in his head.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks, breaking the silence. I hesitate, trying to gather my thoughts into an actual sentence, instead of the dark depression that is swirling around in my head.

“Just remembering, the good times.” I say, a small smile breaking the surface of my lips.

“Care to share?” He asks, his eyes flitting back and forth from the road to my face. I chuckle softly, the memory in my mind floating through my head as an image.

“Okay, so you remember how my grandparents were together? My grandfather was always super flirtatious towards my grandmother? Well, this one time she was in a bad mood and he was trying to get her to laugh. So he took two balls of yarn, from her knitting project, stuffed them under his button down t-shirt and proceeded to parade around as if he had really big boobs. My cousin and I found it hilarious, my grandmother on the other hand was pissed. Well, for a few minutes, until she finally relaxed and laughed about it. I have the picture printed and hanging in the bunker?” Dean laughs, the clear and deep sound pierces the air around us and I relish the way it hangs in my ears.

“Do you have anymore you want to talk about?” He asks again, a slight twinkle in his eyes. I think for a minute, weeding through the memories in my head, some more clear than others.

“One time, after he got sick, he had this woodworking project that he wanted to do. He had all of these buildings on the farm filled to the brim with different types of wood, all different colors and ages. We spent no less than four hours, walking around so he could find just the perfect pieces for his project.”

It went on like this for awhile, I talked and Dean listened. He let me go on about how my grandfather would always shift the car into neutral when stopping at a stop light, how he would eat cranberry mousse on top of his pumpkin pie at thanksgiving. How he would sing my name as a greeting anytime I called him, or sing the numerous different old jingles from old toothpaste brands or other household products. How much I loved to hear him talk about anything and everything, from the weather to the stock market. The time when I was little, that he took me to a Poinsettia greenhouse that was a four hour drive and he just loved every minute of it. He was just so special and everyone loved him.

I grow quiet again, the rawness of my grief pulsing within me. Through all of this, exhaustion is creeping up within me. I scoot over the bench seat, getting as close to Dean as the truck will allow and rest my head against his shoulder. My intention was not to sleep, but just to close my burning eyes and seek the slightest comfort.

However, I fell asleep. Only realizing this when Dean opened the door to the truck and eased me into his arms.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I open my eyes slightly and he shushes me.

“It’s okay. you needed it, and you looked too peaceful for me to wake you up. Close your eyes, I’ll bring you to bed.” He says, pressing a kiss to my forehead and tucking my head beneath his chin. I do as he says, closing my eyes and allowing the sound of his breathing and the smell of his cologne to overwhelm my senses. I can hear him cross the threshold of the bunker, whispering something to Sam who had driven the Impala back. He makes his way to my bedroom, gently kicking the door open with his foot and closing the distance to my bed quickly. He gingerly sets me down on the sheets, pulling the blankets up over my skin. I open my eyes once again, taking in the sight of the tall older Winchester in front of me, grateful for his friendship and the love he has shown me in this dark time. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I won’t be far.” He presses another kiss to my skin and turns to leave my room. Fear grabs hold of me and before I can thing, I speak.

“Dean, will you stay, please?” I whisper, a sob clawing its way out of my lungs. He sighs, not a sigh of frustration, but of empathy. He nods silently, climbing in beside me and gently tugging me against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss against my forehead.

“It’s not gonna hurt like this forever. It will always be there, but your life will grow and it will hurt less. I promise, Y/N.” He says, stroking my skin gently. The comfort leeching from him, something I needed from the day I got that phone call. I let my eyes fall closed, trying to block out every thought and just exist in this very moment, surrounded by a man who would do anything for me, who would love me unconditionally and always let me be true to my emotions.

Dean was right, life went on. Even though some days, I wanted it to slow down more than anything, I wanted the world to stop so I could just exist in my grief. I wanted to go back several years before, take more pictures, listen to more of his stories, take more videos of him singing. I longed to hear his voice just one more time, ask him one more question. Instead of focusing on what I couldn’t do, I focused on what I could do. I noticed the birds more, some of his favorite creatures. I watched more sunrises and sunsets, embracing the beauty around me as he would have done. I will always remember the days we had together, I will always long for more. For now though, I will grieve. And that’s okay.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

@hunterscabin This contains some memories of my grandfather, I hope you will read them. <3

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iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year

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All That Matters

Genre: angst / romance / mutual pining / fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: A few swears, mentions of torture, injuries, starvation and malnourishment

Written for: Dean’s Rootin’ Tootin’ Rodeo posted by @chocolatecakecas

SPN Masterlist

I’m back again as how could I not try and write something for this beautiful man’s birthday. It’s probably a bit more depressing than I intended but at least it’s happier at the end, promise! I’m a sucker for Protective!Dean 💕

It was 4am and you couldn’t stop pacing. You’d been at it for hours, back and forth across your room, practically carving a path in the unforgiving, cold concrete floor as your anxiety continued to bubble up inside you.

In your head a furious debate continued to rage as you take another glance at the door. You shake out your hands and screw your eyes shut as you desperately try to calm your breathing. In through your nose and out through your mouth. You know in your heart where you long to be. There’s only one damn place you feel safe anymore. The question is, will you go?

To say the last few months had been hard was the understatement of the century. You’d been on your own for the last year or so, since your surrogate father, Bobby, had been killed by Dick Roman. You could handle a gun and throw a punch, but really your skills were in helping out hunters where you could, studying lore and answering the phones and so you threw yourself into it whole heartedly to fill the gaping chasm in your chest. Of course, this also meant helping the Winchester boys.

You loved those boys like family. You’d grown up together when John had left them with Bobby for weeks at a time. These were the memories you looked back on most fondly. Running around with Sam, Dean joining you when he wasn’t pretending to be too cool for your childish games. The years had passed swiftly until one summer the boys came back and Dean seemed so different. He’d grown taller and filled out, and how could you have never noticed how green those eyes of his were? It was the biggest cliché and yet you fell hopelessly for him that summer. Sam rolled his eyes in disgust but swore diligently to never tell Dean your secret. And then just like that, they were gone again.

It wasn’t until many years later that the boys finally returned. Searching for their father and hunting anything that stood in their path. You helped them with Bobby, but damn it if your heart still didn’t melt at the mere sight of the eldest Winchester.

That was before.

You felt different now. You still loved Dean, how could you not? Your love for him had only grown over the years. However, you were skittish now and just felt so damn tired all the time. Your personality muted into a shadow of what it once was, content to sit and observe your surroundings rather than be the soul of the party as you had once been. Dean knew why. Sam knew why. Hell, everyone knew why and even though everyone told the brothers constantly that it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t help but shoulder the responsibility. It was the Winchester way after all. It was them the demons were after when they kidnapped you in the dead of night and it was the bunkers location you’d been tortured for weeks for. Until the boys had finally found you, half starved, bruised and bloody, and rescued you.

The road to recovery had been hard. Cas had immediately healed your physical injury’s with a single touch once you were back in the bunker, but you knew it was the mental scars that were going to take the most healing. Flashes of the torture you’d endured haunting you at any given moment and you’d yet to manage more than a few hours sleep without a nightmare. You were still severely malnourished and had only just managed to start eating more than a few mouthfuls at a time.

After spending a week and a half in the bunker recovering under the boys watchful gazes you had gathered your few things together and made your way to the War Room, ready to say your goodbyes, determined not to out stay your welcome. Sure, you would miss the wonderful home cook meals Dean had been constantly preparing, despite you eating very little of them, and the way Dean had held you through the nightmares that had plagued you in those first nights. Waking up screaming until your throat was hoarse.

The look of identical incredulity on their faces when you told them you were heading home had almost been comical. After much debate Dean had simply taken your bags from you and marched you back to your room, insisting that you were staying with them at least until you were fully recovered and then they would talk more. Damn that Winchester guilt, you hated feeling like a burden. It didn’t take a genius to realise that the Winchesters had only invited you to live with them because they felt bad about it all, and you didn’t want to make that any worse. The tiniest part of you couldn’t help to feel relieved though, not really wanting to be alone anymore.

This brought you back to the present. Still marching across your room back and forth as the pent up anxiety slowly built until you felt like you were drowning. Before you’d really even made the conscious decision you were silently slipping out of your room and down the hall to Dean’s room.

You knocked on his door once and heard nothing. After one more try with no response you simply opened up the door and asked, “Dean? Are you awake?”

Before you had time to blink Dean was sat upright in bed, his gun trained on you. Somehow you didn’t even flinch, a part of you expecting this reaction and despite your recent trauma your brain just knew that this was Dean Winchester and he wouldn’t hurt you. You swallowed thickly and watched as he blinked hard, the sleep clearing from his eyes.

“Oh shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry,” the gun was gone in an instant and he was crossing the room to you in an old tee and jogger shorts. He gripped your shoulders quickly, eyes filled with remorse as they scanned over you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

The questions came far too rapidly for you to keep up with but Dean seemed to realise quickly there was no physical injuries but you still held yourself tense in his arms. Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly as you looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. It was as if your throat was closing up. Your hands twitched a bit– you just desperately wanted him to hold you right now. To remind you that you weren’t alone. “Can I sleep in here with you?”

“You come to my room and wake me up at God knows what time to cuddle?” Dean asked, a faint amusement colouring his tone now he could see you were physically fine. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and saw how distressed you looked. Very quickly he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you back to bed with him. Without thinking you firmly tucked your head into his chest and breathed a sigh of relief as his arms wrapped around you and he started rubbed circles into your back. You gripped his shirt tightly in your fists. “It feels like I forgot how to breath...”

“You’re going to be okay.” he spoke softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest beneath you. Very slowly he took in the sensation of you relaxing underneath his touch. “You’ve got me and Sam. Lots of people who love you and are going to make sure that you’re safe. Always. We’ll take care of you.”

You could feel your mind stumbling and sticking onto one of the things that he said, “Love me?”

Dean sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t the time to get into that specifically, he thought. The morning, when you finally got some sleep would be better. “Yeah, Sweetheart. Family who love you.”

Your heart skipped at his statement. How could he still not know how you felt?

Sam did though. He could see the torch you held for his brother as clear as if it was a beacon lighting up the night sky. You felt his watchful gaze on you as you gravitated towards his brother for comfort without thought. Needing him to be close to just make it through the god damn day.

You shifted just enough to nuzzle into his neck. “I love my family too.” He stiffened just a bit under your touch, and you felt Dean let out a very shaky breath. There was more you wanted to talk about, more you wanted to say, but you finally felt so warm and safe that you couldn’t be bothered to worry more about it.

You were surrounded by warmth and Dean’s scent– that gunpowder, leather and oil combination that just made you feel like home. His arms felt nice and sturdy around you, and it was impossible not to become completely relaxed in them.

Dean laid there debating with himself whether to push the subject– but the second he finally got his mouth open to speak he heard your breathing even out.

You’d fallen asleep.

Tomorrow.

You woke up slowly and found yourself in a very different position than when you’d fallen asleep. Half of Dean’s weight was now on top of you as you laid on your back. Apparently both of you tossed and turned while you slept.

With a groan you patted Dean’s cheek a few times to wake him up, only resulting in him nuzzling into your collarbone more, his breath tickling your skin. “Stop waking me up, woman.”

“It’s almost lunch, Dean.” You paused before adding, “You’re also using my chest as a pillow.”

Immediately he sat up from on top of you, his face tinged pink. “Sorry about that Sweetheart”

You snickered and rubbed your eyes as you slowly sat up in bed as well. “It’s alright. We were both asleep.” It was impossible to keep from laughing a little more, as you realised just how bad his bedhead was. Without thinking you reached out and began to fuss with a bit that was really stuck up. “Is this why you spend so much time messing with your hair, Dean?”

“You’re awful sassy to the guy who shared his bed with you last night.”

“Mmm, well you ought to be used to my sass by now Winchester.” you slowly lowered your hand when you noticed his tongue flick over his lips, your stomach doing flips and your heart rate picking up. “Thank you though. I didn’t want to–”

Dean watched as your lips pursed into a thin line, “Didn’t want to what?”

“Look, I know why you two asked me here. I know it’s because you think it’s your fault what happened to me. I don’t want to mess things up for you two more. I hate to be a liability.”

His blood boiled a bit at your words. “We asked you here because you’re our friend, who got hurt protecting us. We worry about you.”

You tried to protest again but he shook his head, “No. You went through something horrific Y/n. You’re still barely touching any food and you’re quiet now, you don’t sleep well! We wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of. That’s why you’re here. Because you took care of us, and now we’re taking care of you.”

Dean sucked in a breath, the rest of his speech dying down in his mouth as he looked at you. He’d had it all planned last night and yet when he looked at you with the dark circles and bags underneath your eyes he hesitated. Not because of you, but because of himself. So what that you still weren’t lit up like you were before Bobby died. You were the woman he loved, the woman he’d gladly die for. But he was poison, hadn’t your recent brush of death confirmed that? Once Dean Winchester decided he loved someone it was as good as placing a target on their back and signing their death warrant. And yet Sam’s words came floating back to him. You love her and you know she feels the same. Life’s too short, Dean. Seize the moment and be happy. Could he really dare to hope that you loved him back.

“Do you want to kiss as badly as I do right now?”

Your eyes went wide as your face snapped up to look at him, “What?” Your brain was reeling, not sure how he’d changed the subject without you knowing.

Dean blushed again, “I’m sorry, god. You don’t… that was terrible. I shouldn’t have asked that. God damn it that’s not a good thing to ask–” you weren’t in a good place, and pushing you about that or asking you things like that could result in you making a choice you weren’t later happy with and Dean didn’t want to do that to you. “I’m sorry. Don’t–”

Very gently, you reached out and cupped Deans cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned in, and you felt Deans hands on your shoulders so softly that you wondered if he was scared of hurting you.

His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss you shared was sweet and chaste. Before everything that had happened you’d day dream about something far more passionate that would have ended in someone getting pinned against something but now it was just good to feel something so gentle.

When you parted you were greeted with a fretful looking Dean, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” you snickered just a bit, “We’re adults you know– it’s not like when we were twelve and kissing was the most crazy thing you could do with someone.”

He smiled and then nuzzled into your neck and breathed in your scent. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too.” your hands once more went to his hair and played with the strands as you thought about his words, “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

“I hoped. Wished I’d have said something before.”

To that you shrugged– there were so many possibilities missed that you didn’t see the point in counting them all. “We’ve got it out now. That’s all that matters.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #deansbirthdaybash #January 24th #24th January #Dean winchesters birthday #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn #chocolatecakecas #tw: violence #tw: torture #tw: malnourishment #happy birthday dean winchester #iprobablyshipit91 writes #All That Matters

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Starstruck - Pedro Pascal x reader/OC

Summary: Y//N plays Eleanor Winchester in Supernatural and is on the red carpet for season 13 where she spots her heartthrob: Pedro Pascal.

SORT OF LINKS TO Terrible at Secrets

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: anxiety (?)

Notes: request by @princessmermaid1289 and photos of dress and hair at the bottom.

Y/N’s POV:

Being part of such a big show like Supernatural is always breathtaking, especially getting to meet all the other big stars and my fans. I never expected to have such an impact or make a family with J2M. Jared and Jensen immediately took me under their wings when I joined in season seven as Sam and Dean’s little sister - Eleanor aka. Nell

Being anxious and an actor is always something interesting but I have such an amazing family backing me and getting rid of any awkward questions aimed my way during conventions. I love conventions and red carpets, being able to meet my own idols of which I have plenty. I find it so much fun talking to them and getting the fans opinions on everything. My fans are my biggest critics and they’re how I improve.

Tonights a red carpet for our season 13 with Alexander Calvert. He’s very cute and bubbly and I love him like a little brother and the fans seem to love him even more. He’s going to be big, I just know it, especially when the fans scream at him wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me as the cameras flash.

“Heyyy Y/N,” Jensen appears at my other side, elbowing me and leans down enough he can whisper quiet enough the cameras and paparazzi don’t catch it, “Your man crush is over there, go say hi.”

I follow his gaze to see the one and only Pedro Pascal. He guest starred in an episode but sadly I never got to see or meet him as it wasn’t with me. My character was off with Kelly and Castiel while Pedro was with Jensen and Jared and I will admit it broke my heart a little as I have always had a huge crush on the sweetheart. He looks drop dead in that crisp white suit and black bowtie. His hair is so fluffy and I just wanna run my hands through it from here.

“Go!” Alex is agreeing and I’m being pushed in Pedro’s direction so lightly jog over, trying not to trip over my dress. It’s a beautiful thing, not my personal choice but I have to admit it looks beautiful and it makes me feel beautiful when I’m quite a rough and tough person having been around J2M for pretty much eight years. It’s black and flows, making me feel like a character from a fairytale, the sleeves off the shoulder and it sparkles in the flash of the cameras. I think it’s made from a mixture of satin and lace with how light it is despite how heavy and full it looks. It seems my stylist was going for a vintage look as my strawberry blonde hair is pinned back in light curls, it reminds me a longer version of Susan Pevensie’s hair from the last movie where Lucy becomes Susan. I feel beautiful.

“Hi,” I place a trembling hand on Pedro’s shoulder, causing him to turn to see me. His face breaks into that contagious grin as he looks me up and down with no abash. It has me flushing a bright red, especially when he makes room for me, wrapping a large hand around my waist.

“Hi there mama,” Pedro’s voice is like velvet and has me weak at the knees. He’s pulling me flush against the side and begin to pose for the paparazzi again, a huge grin on his face so I compose myself and do the same, putting my arm around his back. He’s a lot taller than I realise so it’s easy for me to rest my head on his shoulder and I think I’m going to go deaf at the sound that erupts from the fans as Pedro glances down at me with a look that makes me balling his jacket in the hand that’s around his back. He lips are suddenly near my ear as he whispers “Easy darlin,” while his thumb rubs soothingly at my hip.

We have move on so Jared and Gen can take our stops and I prepare to go back to Alex as Misha has Vicki and Jensen has Danneel but Pedro grasps my hand in his calloused one. I stumble slightly but he steadies me and my mind races because this is going to be big news and everyone is going to realise I have the biggest crush on Pedro Pascal… who is leading me to the next photo spot.

The cameras continue to blind me and I have to grip Pedro’s hand tighter as I can feel my anxiety bubbling. I usually try to do the red carpets quickly and usually Jensen; Jared and Misha there to ground me. This beautiful man beside seems to understand what’s happening and is sending one last wave at the cameras before he’s leading me towards the Entertainment Weekly interviewer.

“Hello there mommy and daddy,” She greets us and feel myself flush again as this never happens to me. I can’t remember her name as I was meant to only talk to a tiktoker turning interviewer as I’m not as big as my on screen brothers.

“Hey there,” Pedro sends her an amusing smile, keeping a tight grip on my waist.

“Well this is a nice surprise, I’m a little star stuck right now,” The interviewer turns her attention to me, “I have to admit I’m a huge fan of you and your character, Eleanor Winchester for those who don’t know.” She glances back at the camera and I’m subconsciously grabbing Pedro’s free hand, hoping the camera doesn’t pick up on.

“Oh! Well, thank you.” I’m laughing nervously, “I’m also star stuck!”

“You’re the star here,” Pedro nudges me and I can just hear all the fan edits about to be spamming my social media feeds in the morning but I don’t care because I’m currently pressed against the Pedro Pascal and he’s acting like I’m the big star, not him. Somehow I feel like royalty, even when the interviewer gets on with her planned interview with Pedro and I’ve never felt like this. I just alternate between watching the way Pedro throws his head back in a hearty laugh every time the interview flirts with me and the way the cameras are flashing blindingly. I should be panicked and breathless right now but that hand on my hip is flexing every so often and somehow it keeps me grounded and this is probably the first red carpet I’ve been able to breathe.

“Well, here’s the question I think most will be asking in the morning, is there something here?” The interviewer is asking, her question making my head snapping round so fast I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash, watching Pedro to see what he says as I try to slow my breathing.

“I wouldn’t mind having a date with miss Y/N here but we’ll have to see.” He’s sending her wink then pulling me even closer to him and I just look at the camera and fake swoon, laughing lightly in shock.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” I tell her and it causing everyone in earshot to break into laughter as Pedro presses a kiss to my cheek, the light drag of his beard taking the air from my lungs, “Definitely hallucinating.”

“She says yes,” Jared’s towering frame appears behind us both, patting Pedro on the shoulders, “Of course she wants to go on a date with Pedro.”

“A date it is it seems.” Pedro’s grin seems to get wider and I’m not really sure what’s happening right now. I might have a date with the Pedro Pascal and my two older brother figures may have set me up it seems, especially from the way Jared and Jensen high five as they walk away and the way Gen sends me a wink.

Oh my fucking god. I’m going on a date with Pedro Pascal.

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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 months

Text

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.”

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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deancasforcutie · 4 months

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While we’re I’llJustWaitHereThen.mp3 for Act Two of The Winchesters -or rather thee reboot, which should be known for the extra high bar it’s gained this year- I’d like us to round off 2023 considering a song choice from the finale I haven’t seen discussed, but illuminates Dean’s path going forward.

The moment Dean, Jack, Bobby, and Baby disappear, “One of These Things First” by Nick Drake plays. For the curious, Nick Drake is ingrained in the cultural consciousness as a precursor to the likes of Kurt Cobain and Elliott Smith for his musical talent, melancholic lyrics drawn from a troubled life, and (at 26, one year too young for the original 27 Club of Jimi Janis Jim Morrison) untimely tragic death.

Such allusions seem all too pertinent to our not-so-Mystery Man who’d also sooner burn out than fade away, huh? But first and foremost, “One of These Things First” here evokes the multiverse reveal - playing over scenes of Lata helping restore Ada’s soul and Mary and Samuel parting. The characters could be any number of things, but as Mary says of her possible alternate selves, “I’m gonna make my own”; with the meta knowledge that Dean is “picking the music” non-diegetically, this track’s relevance to his own life (and death) becomes apparent.

I could have been a sailor, could have been a cook A real live lover, could have been a book

From the start we see well-chosen lyrics for thee episode of Dean “Hello Sailor” Winchester; it goes without saying, here and in the series’ deafeningly loud negative space, how Dean’s desire to be “a real live lover” drives his search for happy endings in this Supernatural Romance. Genius.com notes that “a book” in Nick Drake’s metaphor means “someone who spent their time gaining knowledge about the world”; leaving them his own book, evidently a record of Supernatural’s main events and likely intended as a setup for revelations about his postseries shenanigans, Dean becomes their absent guide opposite John’s original series role through his journal.

I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock As simple as a kettle, steady as a rock

Following lyrics about metaphorical objects also evoke Dean’s role as a guide - but given his view that “I think I did” find a model for his found family’s happiness in them, it goes both ways (and so does he).

I could be here and now I would be, I should be, but how?

These last few lyrics played in the episode call to mind the final undying core of Dean’s self-doubt: his inability to move on, like so many restless spirits parallel him. Dean’s sensation that he is not “here and now,” being unstuck in time and lamenting that he’s “already dead,” highlights his distance from the lead characters and their sense of closure - as does his use of the James Hetfield alias as a false name, dodging the central question of Who You Are. For all his heroism, Dean’s role as the central mystery never fully solved implicates him as the haunting force derailing another story into his own as much as any reality-warping trauma parasites.

Minding all these exhortations to mind the gap, it’s absolutely relevant that the episode omits a second verse centering on romantic longings. (It wouldn’t be the first time - “So on your woman and your child/You release your bitterness,” anyone?)

I could have been your pillar, could have been your door I could have stayed beside you, could have stayed for more I could have been your statue, could have been your friend A whole long lifetime could have been the end

Mary and Samuel’s exchange (“Be safe out there” “I love you too, kiddo”) continues the theme of Just Saying It before any goodbye - acknowledging you can say “I love you” without saying it and be understood. But apropos of everything, the romantic pair never exchanges what they promise they will on reuniting - at once begging the same question as Dean’s aborted love confession(s) to Cas (indicting the heteronormative double standard that makes the answer “obvious” here) and keeping their promise of no goodbyes, meaning “Ramble On” with its tale of a romantic reunion can only refer to one yet to come.

So with Dean left to learn that death is no goodbye for him either, The Winchesters reaffirms Supernatural’s humanistic heart: the conviction that -whether for great artists we romanticize or fictional characters representing our values- we need not mythologize and bemoan death as “robbing” the world of someone’s promise at the expense of affirming the intrinsically worthy human life as they are now and forever (we will all live forever no matter how dead we may sometimes seem to be). A life cut tragically short was still a life worth living, and its legacy one worth carrying on. And I can think of no truth more apt from the series cut short at 13 traxx we will nevertheless replay and remix and resonate with for years to come.

As we ramble on to future installments, I reiterate: “If you had the chance to do it all over again, would you?” “I followed my heart. I don’t think that’s ever a mistake.”

#consider this my ''sleep well'' to the other coolest queer show I know #just heard Ramble On ONCE AGAIN on the car radio the universe is tryna tell me something!#the winchesters #it's underrated due for a reboot #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #destiel #spn meta #spnwin 1.13 #mine

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deangirlsstuff67 · 1 year

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Catching His Eye

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warning: dry humping, fluffy Jensen

Summary: His distracted and you're the reason.

Authors note: I love Jensen and his family. I mean them no disrespect. This is set in set in a world where Jensen is single. This is a work of fiction for nothing more than entertainment.

---------------------------------------

Life had kicked your ass in every way possible. You still haven't recovered from you two year long relationship ending when he cheated. Not only did he cheat, but with your best friend.

You decided last minute to purchase gold passes for a convention to your favorite show. Supernatural had saved you when you hit rock bottom. Seeing Dean Winchester on your screen always made your bad days better.

Friends and family said you were obsessed, they just didn't understand. Jensen Ackles brought you a character who stole your heart, made you smile, and laugh. So of course you had a crush on the green eyed texan, who the fuck wouldn't.

That's how you ended up here. Arm stretching high in the sky, hoping they will pick you to ask your question. You hated public speaking but couldn't give up a chance to interact with Jensen.

Jared picked you out of sheer luck. An older lady brought you over a microphone. Jensen wasn't looking at you, in his own little universe there on stage.

Clearing your throat you stand up and just speak, "my questions for Jensen." He looks up at the spund of his name. Deep green eyes lock on your y/e/c ones. Your knees threaten to collapse right then and there with just one look at him.

"Umm... I'm just curious what you like to do when your having a bad day. What's your go to to make yourself smile?" There you asked. Shyly smiling you never look away from his gorgeous face.

He's just staring at you. Eyes running all over your face. Jared snaps his fingers in front of his friends face bring him back to the present.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, what's that?"

Jared and the audience laugh. Jensen has an embarrassed smile on his face when he realizes he was too distracted by you to actually hear what you said. Repeating your question for him, he gives you a breathtaking smile before answering.

You sit back down after he's answered you.

-------------------------------------------------------

For the rest of the day you wander around the vendors room. Sit in on different panels. Even make conversation with some amazing people. This is truly the only place where everyone understands your way of thinking and obsession with these characters.

Halfway through the day, you find yourself looking for a restroom. You've managed to take a wrong turn down a hallway and are now completely lost.

You hear him before you see him. Large arms wrap around your frame, pulling you into a dark room, "you're very distracting you know that."

Spinning you around you come face to face with the guy of your dreams. The man whose been there for you without even knowing it. The guy you thank every day exists.

"I never do this. But I can't stop thinking about you and those beautiful sinful lips sweetheart."

Oh shit.

Then he kissed you. Soft and gentle. Testing the water with those soft lips on yours.

Breaking apart, you can see the nervousness written all over his face. Scared that he's crossed a line.

Smiling, a sense of bravery comes over you, and you reach up to drag his face back to yours, capturing his lips in another kiss.

It turns heated quickly. Jensen backs you up against the door. Strong hands rest on your hips. His thick thigh wedge between your legs, resting tightly on your soaked core.

Without thinking you begin to dry hump his leg. Moans slipping past both your lips as you rub yourself closer to an orgasm.

The need for oxygen breaks your kiss. Jensen hooded eyes watching you as your take your pleasure from him.

"That's it baby. Get yourself off on my leg."

Nibbling his way from your throat to your ear, "soak my pants baby."

It's all you need to get you over the edge. Your head knocks against the door as you scream out his name. Cocky grin plastered on his face as he watches you cum.

"Fuck. Sweetheart, that was sexy as hell."

Shyness takes over now. You drop your head to avoid his eyes. He won't have it though. Reaching his hand under your chin he moves you face so you have to look at him.

"Don't hide from me y/n. You have no idea how hot that was."

You gasp when you feel the large, hard bulge he has nestled him his tight jeans. His hand leading yours as he rubs himself with it. Groaning he kisses you again.

"I have to get back before they come looking. Can I please see you again?"

"Yes." It's a whisper, but Jensen hears you. With one more kiss and squeeze of his perfect dick, he sends you in the direction of the bathrooms before disappearing back to his handler.

-------------------------------------------------------

Part two coming soon...

Taglist:

@syrma-sensei @yvonneeeee @nancymcl

#jensen ackles #spn fanfic #jensen x you #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n

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