chrisparagon - Tumblr blog

chrisparagon · 3 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester - Wound (Part 9)

Part 8!

Part 10!

Summary: Sam is pissed at Dean. Dean and Reader's relationship takes another step forwards.

Warnings: Talk of monsters. Blood.

WC: 2498

Sam was pissed when he got back.

“You did what?” Sam held his arms out to the side as he scolded Dean. Dean threw his hands and walked away from the charging moose to the small counter, pouring a drink. “Dean, those books could’ve been useful!” Sam yelled. Dean spun back to his brother.

“Do you really think that Sam?” Dean retorted. “We know what monster we’re hunting and now we just need to know how to kill it.” Dean said.

“Ya, and it could’ve been in the books!” Sam yelled.

“I’m not gonna let people keep on getting hurt while we chase our tails!” Dean yelled back. Sam spun away from his brother, running his hands through his hair instead of throwing a punch.

You sat awkwardly on the bed in your new motel room as Sam and Dean argued. By ‘people’ you knew Dean meant you.

“Guys.” You said in a quiet voice.

“I can’t believe you.” Sam said to Dean before spinning and slamming the motel door. They obviously didn’t hear you, or ignored you. You pursed your lips wondering what you should do. It was obvious to you that the monster couldn’t be killed, Katherine would’ve, or someone else would’ve, right? Dean was pouring a drink while you thought.

“What if it can’t be killed, Dean?” You reasoned. Dean threw his shot back, pouring another one.

“If it bleeds you can kill it.” Dean responded. “You want one?” He asked holding the bottle. After being attacked by a ghost? Ya you wanted a drink.

“Double?” You asked. Dean smirked while tipping the bottle. “But don’t you think someone else would’ve found a way to kill it if there was a way?” You asked again.

“Well, maybe.” Dean walked over and passed you your drink, sitting on the bed across from you. “But they’ve never had us on the case.” He smiled confidently. You scoffed and twirled your drink.

“What if we don’t?” You asked in a solemn voice. Dean downed his second drink, placing the glass on the bedside table.

“Then we need to find a virgin.” He said, laying down. You couldn’t help but smirk. You were about to ask ‘for what purpose?’ when Dean let out a sharp exclamation, sitting up again.

“You okay?” You asked. Dean grimaced and tried to turn around. He reached a hand to his back and looked at it. He had red liquid on the pads of his fingers. You stared at his hand, looking just as confused as him.

“Are you hurt?” You asked.

“Ya I guess.” He responded, trying to look around again. You set down your glass and sat on the bed beside Dean. He had scratches and blood oozing through his shirt.

“Oh my gosh Dean. How did we miss this?” You ask yourself more than him. You lift his shirt, peeling cloth away from oozing cuts.

“Well, Sam was a little riled, and I’ve had worse.” Dean reasoned. “And you, you’re useless with wounds. I’d expect you to miss this.” He teased. You scoffed again. You would have wacked him if he wasn’t injured.

“Whatever,” You said. “You would’ve bled to death if it weren’t for me.” You retorted while Dean chuckled.

The wounds weren’t deep, but they did need to be cleansed. You dropped his shirt and rose.

“Don’t move.” You command as you grab the first aid pack. You sat behind Dean, picking up a sanitary wipe to dab the cuts. Dean squirmed under the sting. You frowned at his reaction.

“Sorry. I thought you said you’ve had it worse.” You remarked. Dean sniffed and tried to turn around again.

“How bad is it?” He asks, causing the bandage you were holding to stick in the wrong place, his shirt falling again.

“Stop moving!” You snap. He smiles and complies. You lift the shirt again, trying to peel the bandage off while holding it. You grunt.

“You know what, just take this off.” You say, your frustration getting the best of you.

“You going for the home run?” Dean pulled the shirt over his head. “At least buy me a drink first.” He turned back to you, his eyes gleaming and paired a devilish smirk. Caught in the moment you forgot your task and your worries for a moment. A sort of warmth came over you as you looked at him, pulling you deeper into his trance. The world around you seemed to dull. The sound of traffic and the cotton balls in your hand seemed to fade for a moment. And it felt nice, to have a break from your thoughts, from your grief, so you just stayed there, staring.

Dean seemed to get uncomfortable under your observation. He frowned slightly before turning back. He wasn’t really sure what you were thinking, just that you weren’t responding like other women had.

“Sorry,” He mumbled. “Wrong time.” He tried to cover. His voice brought you back to reality. You stared at his face as you contemplated his words. It wasn’t the right time, the last time one of you bought the other a drink, someone died.

Then another thought pushed that one out. “Wait.” You moved away from him and sat delicately opposite to him. You squinted and held your hands up. “Were you… asking me to sleep with you?” You ask humourlessly. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he struggled for words.

“If that’s… what you want?” Dean asked, his frown just as deep as yours. You closed your eyes and shook your head. You weren’t offended, you weren’t even that surprised, you just didn’t know what to do. You moved back behind Dean, returning to your duty. You tried to push the conversation out of your head and focus on the crusty blood.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dean said quietly, sounding deflated. You paused your dabbing, looking back to him. You felt bad for him, he genuinely asked a question and you ignored it.

“No, no-“ You started. You didn’t want to be misunderstood. You thought he was the most handsome man you’ve ever met and were definitely attracted to him. But you wanted to consider things before sleeping with someone you’ve known for a week. Dean turned back to you, curious for your response. “No, I- just… not yet.” You finished quietly. You weren’t sure how to say that, but you hoped that was enough.

“Oh?” Dean said. He had the familiar twinkle reappear. Your cheeks suddenly turned a deep shade of red, redder than they had been yet. Dean’s smile reappeared as he scanned your face, relishing in the blush. You drop your gaze, embarrassed that your vulnerability was being stared at. Dean turned around, allowing you to continue your work. “Okay.” He said. You swallowed hard, feeling your mouth dry. You really wanted that drink. You stared at your cup over Dean’s shoulder. No, that would be too obvious.

Your task was soon done, wrappers and a bloodied, damp cloth sitting beside you. Dean’s back was red and bruised, already becoming discolored. You wanted to reach up and touch them, settle his bruising and wish them away. You hoped he wasn’t in too much pain. You settled for pressing the edges of the bandages, redundant as they were already glued to his skin. You sighed and sat across from Dean, taking your drink. Dean hadn’t moved, he was fidgeting with his hands. You looked at him from your whiskey.

“You okay?” You asked. Dean turned to you, a guilty look in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry.” He started. “About Joanne, those books, everything.” He said. His eyes were sorrowful, dark with remorse. You frowned, wondering what caused him to say these things. He continued. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. To wreck your life with monsters and nightmares-“ You cut him off.

“Dean stop.” You said, a little too aggressively. You looked at him with pity. “You didn’t-“ you stop yourself and clench your jaw- drag me into this. But he did. You look down at your empty cup, unsure of what to say.

“Look, if you want out-“ Dean tried to start again.

“Dean, stop.” You say again, looking hard at him. “I… I’ve had plenty of opportunities to leave.” You explain. “And I’d rather know what’s out there than ignore it.” You explain. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Ya, well you don’t know-“ Dean starts again but you snap.

“Will you listen to me for 5 seconds?” You suddenly say. It’s harsh as it comes out and Dean frowns at you. Your ears turn hot as you glance at the floor, ashamed that your actions could be ruled by your emotions. You try to calm yourself, grief and shock in control of your system. Your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“When Joanne died…” You trail off, thinking of how easily Dean took charge of the situation, being a rock in the storm, calming people down, pulling you back together. You clasp your hands and squeeze them, trying to push courage into them. You quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. The bed squeaks as you shift on it and try to compose yourself. Dean is a good man, you have no right to treat him like shit, even if you feel like it. You take a breath to steady yourself before looking back at Dean. Why did this feel like a confession?

“Dean,” You pause, locking eyes with him. “There’s no one I’d rather be here with.” Your voice was shaky as you admit it. Dean opens his mouth to retort but you hold up a finger. “No one.” You said again. And you meant it. Not your friends, not your parents or a bodyguard or the fucking military. You wanted someone who knew the playing field, who would do anything to keep you safe, who knew the gives and takes of the job. Someone selfless and strong. Someone like Dean. He closed his mouth at your resolve. Your voice was low and hard as you spoke. “And I sure as hell ain’t backin’ out now.” You said.

Your voice was firm when it hit Dean’s ears, and he knew you had decided. He wanted you to be scared, to go home. Go back to your book club and wrestling, back to your life, back to normal. But even as he wished it, he knew normal wasn’t an option. You’d just witnessed one of your friends get killed by a monster, it’s hard to go back after that. He nodded at your response.

Your temperament cooled and you gave a sigh of relief.

“You’ve given me a lot to be grateful for, Dean.” You said, both of you again turning to look at each other. “And not just a pretty face.” You said a little bashfully. Dean sniffed at your comment, his own small smile appearing. You rose and walked to the bottle, pouring and downing another drink. You glanced out the window to the sunny day. A new thought came to mind.

“Hey can we stop by my house?” You asked, turning to Dean and leaning against the counter. He rose with his cup, turning his shirtless torso to you. You felt a buzz go through your body staring at his muscular figure. Peeling your eyes away as he walked towards you was hard.

“Ya, sure. What for?” Dean asked, pouring himself another drink too. He didn’t notice you staring, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. You could feel your body getting hot with this hunk standing so close beside you. You tried to speak but you were worried it would come out squeaky. You open and close your mouth, clearing your throat.

“Um,” You test your vocals. “Well, I’d like a new set of clothes and you probably want yours back.” You suggest.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Dean said smirking at you. You didn’t meet his eye.

“No, you’re dressed fine as is.” The words slipped past your lips before you had a chance to close the gate. Your cheeks flushed again as you rubbed the back of your neck, instantly regretting your words. You saw Dean’s body still and felt the heat of his eyes bore into the side of your face. You cleared your throat and glanced around the room. Dean turned and leaned against the counter, giving your full frontal of his bare body.

“Really?” He asked. His voice was laced with confidence. You swallow hard, thinking of a deflection.

“Don’t get cocky.” You retorted, finally meeting his gaze. You didn’t mean to stare but you were sucked in, his emerald eyes glowing more than usual. Dean glanced at your lips before meeting your eye again. You subconsciously mimic him, looking to his plump lips before drifting over his freckles then his eyes. You could feel the tension build and Dean licked his lips. He shifted a little closer, closing some of the gap between you before scanning your face and parting his lips. You again mimicked him, your lips parting before you bite them, nervousness settling in your stomach. You weren’t sure what to do, if you should lean in, place a hand on his chest and push him back against the counter, or maybe it wasn’t an appropriate time? Should you even be thinking like this?

You didn’t have to wait long though. If Dean was reading your sighs right- which he thought he did- he did all the work. He leaned closer before taking placing his fingers under your chin and gently tilting your head to him. Your heart was pounding and your body was hot. You could feel his breath dry your wet lips as the door flung open, Sam bursting into the hotel room. You and Dean pull away, clearing your throats simultaneously. Sam wasn’t oblivious.

“What’s doing on?” He scoffed, already half knowing. You crossed your arms while Dean clapped his hands.

“Nothing, what’d you bring?” Dean asked, waiting for Sam to put the food bag down before approaching it.

“The usual.” He said in a low tone.

“Did you find anything from the crime scene?” You asked Sam. Sam tossed the keys onto the table before running a hand through his hair.

“Uh, ya, actually.” Sam said. You frowned, looking at Sam then at Dean. “One of the witnesses was scared out of his mind, gave a statement to the police. So I went down and read it.” Sam said. You stare at Sam, then exchanged a look with Dean.

“What did it say?” You and Dean say unanimously. Sam squinted between the two of you before speaking.

“Well, the police report said the witness swears it’s a monster.” Sam raised his eyebrows pointedly. Dean shook his head.

“Did he see it?” He asked.

“No, but he was adamant that the police write it down.” Sam replied.

“Well, did the report say who it was?” You asked nervously. Sam nodded.

“Doug Ledger.” He stated.

Masterlist

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @deanswaywardgirl @ace-of-gay @schizonephilim @carry-on-wayward-girl @savourtheflavourgeez @cl0wnb0yyy @dean-winchester-lover99bu @littlehorse-standsby-bighorse

@betsy-bradock @siospins2 @stitchintimefan

#supernatura #spn #dean winchester #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

39 notes · View notes

chrisparagon · 3 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester - Wound (Part 8)

Part 7!

Part 9!

Masterlist

Summary: Reader tries to cope with the death of her friend, but it's not the most pressing issue in this chapter.

Warnings: Ghost. Grief. Emotional sad.

WC: 2131

Sorry, this one took so long to upload! Midterms in uni, you know? Thank you to everyone who reads! I'm continually surprised to find ya'll around, haha.

P.S. I'm struggling with some writer's inspo, not sure exactly where I want to story to go. We'll get there! I've got a few ideas, they're just not on paper yet.

You exited the bathroom, Dean’s soft, cotton t-shirt hanging lifelessly off your body. The clothes you changed out of were crumpled in your hand, dirty memories sticking to them. You stared at them, exhaustion, grief and guilt making your mind numb. Should you throw them on the floor? Put them in Dean’s bag? Hold them all night? You lifted your gaze around the small motel room; 24 hours ago you were fighting for your life to leave, now you were more than happy to spend the nights here. You had no concept that your life could yet again become any more chaotic- any more horrific.

Dean turns his head at your exit the bathroom, a bundle of clothes in hand. Your eyes were glazed over and your chest barely moved to show you were breathing. A pang of pity hit Dean’s heart as we walked over, He understood all too well. Your gaze turns to him as he approaches, trying to look like you were attentive, he could see through the mask. He grimaced as he takes your clothes, tossing them onto his bag.

Dean wrings his hands as he looks at you, forgetting how to be caretaker for someone that’s not his brother. You squint at him as he clears his throat.

“You ready for bed?” He asked awkwardly. Your vision moves up and down, seemingly in control of itself. Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he brushed by.

“Y/N,” Sam said. Your eyes swing lazily to him. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” He said. You again nod slowly. Thanks Sam is what you wanted to say, or maybe that’s very kind or something other than nodding again. But it felt like your vocal cords has been ripped out, along with your emotions. You tried to smile, but it came out a grimace.

Sam moved into the bathroom, and it was only after you noticed you were staring at the empty space where Dean had been, did you slowly walk to bed because that’s what you were supposed to do.

Dean leaned on his arm as he watched you pull back the covers. His nervousness spiked as he waited to see where you’ll lay, with your back to him like the night before, or in his arms like earlier tonight. How quickly the tides turn. He felt increasingly guilty about dragging you into this mess, it didn’t get much worse than this. You slump onto the mattress, your limbs like lead. Grabbing the covers, you pull them tight as you move towards Dean. You didn’t ask- you didn’t even make eye contact as you snuggle your nose and body against Dean’s chest. The sheets slipped as Dean rested his arm over your waist, you couldn’t care. But Dean pulled the blankets higher, knowing it’s what Sammy liked when he was upset. His hand slipped onto your back, locking the blankets in place and pulling you closer, hiding you in the warm tent he created.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke, but Dean was already out of bed, talking in hushed tones with Sam at the table. You squinted and stared at the two, your eyes felt dry and crusty. A groan escaped your throat as you rolled onto your back, rubbing your eyes fiercely. Despite having slept so long, you felt tired, and your eyes and throat were sore. Something was off. Why were you back in this bed? Hadn’t you figured it all out? You thought the three of you had discovered the monsters and- *BAM*. In a flash, the events of last night unfold again. The blood and gore, the overwhelming feelings, the numbness. Ya that’s what was off.

Your lips quiver and you shut them tight before taking a deep breath. The brother’s discussion stopped as chairs scraped the ground, the sound of the door closing echoing around the room. The sound of blunt footsteps approached the bed, then the bed slowly dip. Dean’s presence was both comforting and brooding in the silence.

“Sammy went to the scene to see if he could find anything.” Dean explained. You nodded with your eyes still covered. What would you do now? Joanne was one of your best friends. Crushing guilt came over you. You should’ve stayed back and helped Sam. You shouldn’t have stopped research, shouldn’t have gone out on a stupid date with a stupid boy.

“I shouldn’t have stopped.” You said, opening your eyes to the ceiling and running your hands through your hair. “I should’ve came back with Sam, trying to find a way to kill that thing.” Your voice was thick and shaky as your spoke. Dean knew the feeling, the guilt- and the truth.

“You couldn’t have done anything, Y/N.” Dean said. “You couldn’t have saved her. It was the wrong place… wrong time.” He wasn’t trying to be mean, but it was the hunter’s life. You scoffed aggressively.

“I could’ve talked to her, kept her around longer.” You suggested as tears slipped out of your eyes again. “Drug her into another stupid conversation. Let someone else go in.” Your voice was low as you admitted it.

“You really think you could’ve stopped her? It didn’t seem like anyone could.” Dean said. You sighed. That was true, once that girl had something in mind no one could stop her.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted on the bed. He wasn’t sure when it was the right time, but it was better now than never. His voice was cautionary as he spoke.

“This guilt, this feeling? It will eat you from the inside out.” You peaked an eye at his change in tone. “Don’t let it consume you too.” He said. You frowned, not understanding the deeper meaning to his words. Could this feeling really dictate the actions of another? You turned over the idea as you stared at his hard gaze.

Through foggy thoughts, your gaze drifted as you mulled over his words. There were lines and wrinkles etched into the corners of his mouth, around his eyes, and you wondered if each one represented a story. He had a scar just above his jaw, the wear and tear of the job evident on his body. His green eyes had a depth, a shadow to the deep sea. It was then that you realized how much devotion this man had to the job, how hard he worked to keep people like you, like Joanne, safe when he could. If he said there was nothing you could have done, you believed him.

You pulled yourself against the headboard, dropping Dean’s gaze and sighing. You wiped your tears and sat quietly, already weary from the day.

“I had a good time last night,” Dean said with a shy smile, drawing your gaze back. “Well, before the…” he trailed off, hoping you’d catch his meaning. You grimaced and reflected. It was nice, it was good to be by Dean at that moment. Actually, there’s no one else you would’ve wanted around. No one else could’ve thrown off the weight of the hunt and made you smile. No one else could’ve understood what happened when Joanne died. No one else would’ve been as comforting to be around when shit hit the fan. You looked at Dean again, vowing to offer whatever you could to protect- to give back to these men. You nod at Dean’s comment.

“I did too.” You said quietly, but you meant everything, before and after Joanne. Dean gave a small smile back.

“You want some breakfast?” He asked. You clenched your jaw, shaking your head.

“Not hungry.” The thought of food made you feel sick right now. Dean nodded, he understood.

“I’m gonna do some more research.” He said standing from the bed.

It took you a while, but you too found yourself at the table. The words swam away from comprehension, like trying to catch a fish with your hands. But it was better than brooding in bed. You sat staring at the table, wanting to know if Sam had found anything, but not quite ready to ask. You sighed at looked out the window into the bright light.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, you straightened your posture, pulling your shoulders back. You’ve never seen anything like this, but it gave the same bone chill as before.

“Dean.” You said in a small voice. Dean lifted his head from his hand, looking at you. Dean saw your wide eyes and followed your vision out the window. He saw it too, making his body cold.

“Dammit.” He said. He rose to get his gun, barely taking his eyes off the ghost.

You couldn’t believe you were seeing this. It was a woman in a pink dress, parts of her transparent. Her face was pallor, but her eyes were dark and menacing. You tried to move but were frozen in your seat.

“D- Dean?” You said. He rushed to you, pulling you away from the window. You stumbled as you tried to find your footing.

“Stay close.” Dean said. You stared out the window, looking at the specter one moment, then empty air the next. Confusion and panic washed over you. Were you imagining it? Maybe you imagined the whole scenario.

You didn’t have time to reason as you suddenly saw your breath. The room dropped to a considerably cold temperature, the outside of your body reflecting the inside. You looked back out the window, trying to see if the ghost had returned when a loud *BANG!* was heard from beside you. You yelp and drop to your knees, head swiveling around the room. You were quick enough to see something in the room trailing into a million dust particles. Dean scans the room again before reaching into his bag and pulling out an iron bar. He passes it to you.

“Here. If that thing reappears, hit it with that.” He commands. You rise slowly to your feet, both hands on the rod.

“What is it doing here?” You ask in a panicky voice.

“It probably followed the books.” Dean reasoned.

Dean places himself behind you, back to back. The apparition reappears, this time in front of you. You freeze again, suddenly not sure how to swing a stick. It moves at lightning speed and hits you square in the chest, sending you backwards into Dean. You and Dean hit the floor with a thud and a grunt, the crowbar flying out from your hand. Dean spins around, seeing the ghost. He scrambles to his feet and grabs his gun. He lifts it to aim but the ghost is too fast. It throws Dean through the air, supposedly by some magic, before his body hits the mirror, shattering it.

The hit stuns Dean as the specter slowly approaches him. You recognize the slow movement, it’s the same type of stalking an animal does before a kill. You have to act, need to do something. But what? Despite your shaking body, you scramble to your rod. You lift it, not sure if your shaking legs can bring you fast enough to the ghost. You solve the problem another way.

“Hey! You!” You yell at the specter. It turns its head, then its body. You have its full attention now. Your eyes go wide, you weren’t sure that was the wisest thing. In a moment of panic, you throw the bar, slicing straight through the ghost. It hit the wall, inches from Dean’s head, making him flinch fiercely. You watch in awe as the ghost again fades, like dust in the wind. With the immediate danger gone, you scramble over to Dean.

“Hey! Dean!” You say, shaking him. He looks at you, squinting.

“Was that necessary?” He asked aggressively.

“Dean what do we do?” Your voice was tight with fear. He grunted and rose.

“We gotta burn those books.” he said. You helped him to his feet. Dean grabbed the ammo bag while you took the books into your arms. They were the last thing you wanted to touch, but you couldn’t think, just follow orders.

You were still in a panic as you rounded the motel corner with Dean. He took a quick look around the alley- it was empty. He told you to put the books on the ground and reached into his bag, grabbing a squirt bottle and matches. You stood beside Dean as he doused the books in gasoline and lit a match. He was about to drop it when you stopped his arm. He quickly turned to you.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked. “The books may still be useful.” He looked at you then at the books.

“No.” He said before setting the books ablaze.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @deanswaywardgirl @ace-of-gay @schizonephilim @carry-on-wayward-girl @savourtheflavourgeez @cl0wnb0yyy @dean-winchester-lover99bu @littlehorse-standsby-bighorse

@betsy-bradock