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pink-sparkly-witch · 2 months

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🥹 Thank you so much for reading, gorgeous! 💖

The One That Got Away - Epilogue

Warnings: fluff

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

A/N: That’s all folks! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.😘💖

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

ONE YEAR LATER

Dean and Y/N carried various potluck side dishes into the backyard, placing them on the long wooden table Dean had made in his spare time to accommodate his growing family.

John and Bobby were manning the grill, and Sam was playing with Miracle, the big goofball dog Dean had rescued from a burning building where his owners had sadly perished.

Jody and Mary sat at the table in the sunshine with Jess across from them, sheltering under the parasol with baby Matthew.

When the little boy saw Y/N, he gave her a big toothy smile. He wasn’t even a year old yet and had the same Winchester charm his father, uncle and grandfather had. Y/N couldn’t refuse the grabby hands and little mewls demanding she takes him from his mother’s arms and into hers.

“Hey, buddy!” Y/N smiled as she lifted Matthew and placed him on her hip. Every day his baby babbles sounded more like actual words. Although she wasn’t as versed in Matthew’s baby language as his parents were, she listened to him intently and responded whenever there was a break in his storytelling.

Today’s gathering was a double celebration. Bobby was retiring as Fire Chief at Lawrence F.D. Dean had accepted the promotion into his role and would start as the new Chief at Firehouse 3 the following week. Y/N couldn’t be prouder of her boyfriend and wouldn’t deny that him not running head-first into fires ninety percent of the time would make her life much less stressful.

“He always settles so easily with you,” Jess smiled, and Y/N glanced down to see Matthew had fallen asleep on her shoulder.

“What can I say? Kids love me,” Y/N said, giggling as Dean bent to kiss her forehead, a soft smile curving his lips upwards. The look of utter adoration that shone in his green eyes was overwhelming, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Alright,” John called from the other side of the yard. “First batch of food is ready!”

“Here, let me take him so you can get something to eat. You must be starving after coming off a night shift and barely sleeping before entertaining all of us,” Jess said as she reached to take the sleeping baby from Y/N’s arms.

“It’s fine, Jess. I can survive another twenty minutes. Go, eat something hot for a change without burning your mouth!” Y/N grinned as Jess gave her a grateful smile.

Once everyone had their fill of food and relaxed with some drinks, Y/N and Jody began clearing dishes and putting away the leftovers before promising to bring more beer and another bottle of wine from the kitchen when they were finished.

“You look happy,” Jody smiled fondly.

“I am,” Y/N nodded, unable to hide her grin.

“Is he treating you right?” The older woman asked next.

“Not just right, Jody. He makes me feel safe and loved and wanted. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Good. I’m happy for you, kiddo. You deserve all of it,” Jody hugged her tightly and added, “And if he puts a toe out of line, he is a dead man!” The women chuckled, and Jody pulled back slightly. “Come on, let’s get these drinks out there and join the celebrations.”

Jody placed a cooler filled with ice, beer and a bottle of wine onto the table, and Y/N gave out clean glasses and placed the corkscrew and bottle opener next to it. John and Sam passed out the drinks, and when no one was left empty-handed and had settled into conversation, Dean stood and gathered everyone’s attention.

“As I’m sure you all know, I’m not good with words and find it hard to talk about my feelings. Today, I’m putting that aside to celebrate a great mentor, a great Chief, and an even greater man. I’ve been in Bobby’s Firehouse since I was a cocky probie, and he quickly knocked that out of me completely! He taught me all I know, and that’s why stepping into his shoes isn’t as terrifying now as it was the first time Bobby told me that one day, I’d be sitting in his seat.

“So, cheers, Bobby! Thank you for having patience with me, for mentoring me and teaching me all I know, for seeing something in me that I couldn’t, and for treating me like family. In and out of the Firehouse.” Dean said, and cries of cheers, congratulations and clinking glasses rang through the backyard. He cleared his throat, letting them know he wasn’t finished yet.

“I know we’re here to celebrate Bobby’s retirement and my promotion, but I’m hoping we might have another reason to celebrate. It’s times like this that I wish I could be more articulate and find the right words to talk about how I feel and the million things I really want to say… need to say. And I promise to try, but for now, the only words I have are the most important ones… Y/N,” Dean’s voice cracked as he got down on one knee before her and pulled out a little velvet box. “Will you marry me?”

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and tears flooded her eyes. This was all she’d ever wanted. All she’d dreamed about. A second chance with the one that got away.

“Yes!” she answered, a shriek of laughter coming straight after as Dean lifted her, held her in his strong embrace, and spun her around.

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

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pink-sparkly-witch · 2 months

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If anyone want a fic rec, I’ve got one right here for you!

This one hurts a little with the angst, but it is worth it, I promise!

💖

My Worthless Love || Part One

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn.

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: flirting, teasing, mentions of one night stands, fluff, mentions of being uncomfortable with attention, mentions of smut, watching porn, hints of masturbation, mentions of step father/daughter roleplay Part WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Hope you enjoy this flangsty mini commissioned by Tina :)

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read Parts 2-5 when you sub to my site/Patreon!

Dean’s POV

“Holy fucking shit, dude,” Dean gasps out, as he straightens up from taking his shot at the pool table and doesn’t even notice that the white ball goes nowhere near the stripe he could’ve easily potted.

“You okay there, boss?” But Dean ignores Justin for a moment, still too captivated by the girl he’s just laid eyes on, watching her seem to effortlessly glide from the doorway to the bar. “Seriously?”

This snaps Dean’s attention back to his employee, frowning slightly at the look of amusement on Justin’s face.

“What?” he pries, taking his eyes off of the blonde for a brief second to look for the girl again and make sure she hasn’t just completely disappeared into thin air; that would be just his luck.

“I know you’re my boss, but keep dreaming, man,” Justin laughs, stepping up to the table to take advantage of Dean’s distraction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean presses, frowning at him. “You think a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in me?”

“I know a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in you,” Justin scoffs. “Anyway, isn’t she like, half your age?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?” Dean asks, amused.

“Old enough to be her dad by the looks of it,” Justin teases with a smug grin, potting another ball. Dean hasn’t been counting how many that is now.

“Fuck you,” Dean grunts, mildly insulted but more so totally captivated by the pretty girl still standing at the bar, talking to the bar man who is clearly very shameless in his flirting. So Dean’s not the only man she’s having this affect on – that does complicate things a little. Competition is always a challenge. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, then go and buy her a drink and prove you wrong.”

“Good luck with that,” Justin laughs, a smug grin lighting up his face, and as Dean’s eyes land back on the pool table, he realises Justin’s almost cleared the table himself.

Dean rolls his shoulders back and tells himself to focus on the game – if nothing else to knock his cocky employee down a peg or two – and takes his turn, this time potting all the balls he intends to, until only the black remains, and he looks up to flash Justin a wink before potting it. Justin rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion, but doesn’t seem too put out that he’s lost. Justin always loses to Dean, but the kid is getting better the more Friday nights they spend playing.

“You might’ve beaten me, but I can’t wait to see you fail at the next part,” Justin smirks from behind his beer bottle before finishing it. “Y’know, she looks kinda familiar, you are okay with my sloppy seconds, right, boss?”

“If I wasn’t, there’d be no one in this state left to fuck,” Dean retorts, flashing Justin a sarcastic smile and patting his shoulder condescendingly, making Justin laugh loudly.

“Hey, I learned from the best,” Justin tries to argue back. “Fixing a car isn’t the only thing you’ve taught me, y’know.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you already had ‘manslut’ in your resume before I hired you,” Dean argues, before making his way over to the bar.

He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair before he’s gotten too close, and manages to just about slide into the gap between her and the man standing with his back to her talking to a friend. He briefly glances over at her, noticing she’s just as gorgeous, if not more, up close, and clears his throat as he waits to be served. When he catches her looking his way, he gives her a sweet smile, but she doesn’t hold his gaze long enough for him to strike up a conversation, so he thinks on his approach another minute or two longer.

His fingers begin to drum nervously on the bar top as he notices the barman approaching them, and he realises he’s running out of time.

“What can I get you?”

“Urm, two beers and… I’m feeling generous, so whatever this pretty lady beside me wants,” Dean forces a smile, mentally cursing himself for the terrible move.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she insists, “but thank you.”

Fuck.

The barman nods, moving away to get the beers, and Dean clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t wanna seem like a weirdo, just figured I’d be nice, buy a lonely lady a drink.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not weird,” she tells him softly. “I’m just still drinking this one,” she explains.

“Alright,” Dean nods, admitting defeat. He fucked it from the moment he opened his mouth. He let Justin get into his head. He doesn’t deserve to land someone like her now, anyway, even if it does mean he has to spend the rest of the evening listening to Justin tell him he told him so.

“You mean that’s it?” she presses, frowning at him.

Dean frowns back, now completely confused by what’s happening, barely thanking the barman when two bottles of beer are placed in front of him.

“Not gonna persuade me?”

“Do you… want me to persuade you?” Dean asks carefully, now completely lost.

“No,” she replies simply. “Just most men would,” she shrugs.

Dean finds his way through the confusion just enough to consider maybe he’s not completely blown it after all.

“I’m not most men, sweetheart,” he laughs, softly. “Anyway, have a good night.”

He smiles at her once again and grabs the beers, forcing himself not to look back at her reaction to his exit as he returns to the pool table and sees Justin has already set up the next game; clearly having no faith in Dean’s attempt to not be returning.

“Knew you’d blow it,” Justin scoffs, taking his beer from Dean’s grasp.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Dean replies confidently, grabbing his pool cue. “I’ll break.”

“Dude,” Justin whispers, glancing over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turns his head to see the girl from the bar approaching, outstretching her hand to offer him the beer in her grasp.

“For me?” he asks, confused.

She shrugs, playing with the straw in whatever girly drink is in her grasp and clears her throat. “Just to say thanks for not being a creep,” she tells him softly.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he nods, smiling nervously. “Urm, I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she replies, biting her bottom lip softly before glancing over at Justin. “I’ll leave you to your night.”

“No, it’s okay, Justin was actually just leaving, he’s gotta open up shop tomorrow,” Dean smiles, looking over at Justin pointedly. Justin frowns deeply and grumbles under his breath, reaching for his jacket.

“He’s old enough to be your father, by the way,” he grumpily points out to Y/N as he passes her, shooting Dean a smug grin when she’s not looking, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m not,” he insists, hoping that hasn’t scared her off.

“I’m used to older guys,” she shrugs. “So, I’ve seen you get a few good shots on this thing tonight, mind showing me a trick or two?” she asks, biting her bottom lip again.

“Sure,” Dean nods, suddenly a little nervous but a whole lot excited he didn’t screw up that badly.

Three Weeks Later

“I’m not joking, Dean, it was horrible,” she stresses, even though there’s still a laugh in her voice.

“I don’t know, it sounds pretty funny to me,” Dean insists, laughing along. She glares at him playfully, and then looks back ahead of them as they continue to walk the length of the riverside.

“Can you believe this is our third date, already?” Y/N asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

“I think Justin is in more disbelief than I am,” Dean smirks. “The guy was adamant I couldn’t get your attention at the bar that night.”

“A guy like Justin couldn’t get my attention,” she corrects, scoffing.

“He’s convinced that you two have…” Dean trails off, realising that’s a really inappropriate thing to bring up.

“Really?” she frowns. “No, I don’t know him,” she insists, shaking her head instantly.

“I didn’t think so,” Dean rushes to remedy. “I mean, I would believe it from someone like him, but I didn’t… I don’t want you to think I would think of you… I… I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. He just said he recognised you and, he can’t keep track of… it doesn’t matter,” Dean flusters.

But he’s pretty sure he’s upset her, because the smile has completely gone from her face, and now she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth in the way Dean’s learned she does when she’s anxious.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “Forget I said that, please?” he begs.

She clears her throat and nods her head, so Dean tries to relax again and focus on the great third date they were having, and all the hopes he’d had for this going finally somewhere remotely close to a bedroom. But now he’s pretty sure he’s blown that, at least.

“Oh shit,” some guy drunkenly slurs as they begin to pass a bar. “I know you!” He points straight at Y/N who suddenly seems very uncomfortable with the entire situation. “Where do I know you from?” he asks, frowning in confusion.

“That’s a really shitty way to hit on a woman on a date,” Dean calls over, laughing at the guy’s feeble attempt.

“No, I know her,” he continues to insist.

“You’re drunk, dude,” Dean points out the obvious, noticing Y/N getting more and more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention. He moves to stand the other side of her, between her and the drunk man, and puts his arm around her to offer her some comfort, before moving them on swiftly. “Are you okay?” he asks, as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Fine,” she insists, “I don’t know what that was.”

“He’s drunk, he probably just wanted to hit on you,” Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, probably,” she laughs awkwardly, nodding her head. “I just hate the attention,” she explains, hugging herself.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sweetheart, but you do get a lot of it from men. One even walked into a door earlier,” Dean chuckles softly at the memory. “I know you can’t help it, but us men go a little stupid over girls as attractive as you.” But Y/N seems uncomfortable with the praise, so Dean decides to drop it, and clears his throat. “Do you wanna go somewhere private? My place isn’t far from here,” he offers.

“Urm,” she stops, not looking him in the eye as she instead looks out over the river. “I know it’s our third date and there’s certain… expectations that come with that, but I think I wanna just go home, I’m sorry,” she tells him awkwardly.

“No, yeah of course,” Dean reassures her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that,” he insists. While it had been on his mind most of the evening, after what had just happened, he was genuinely offering her refuge and a drink, but he understands how she might have taken it, and now he feels like an even bigger idiot than he did when he brought up Justin. “Listen, I had a great night, regardless how it ends, I just want you to know that,” he tells her.

“Me too, Dean,” she smiles. “Sorry, I think I’m just tired.”

“It’s fine,” Dean insists, shaking his head because an apology isn’t necessary. “Let me get you a cab.”

He steps out towards the road and lifts his hand to flag down a cab, and as one pulls up to them, he smiles down at her.

“Thanks, Dean, I’d like to do this again if you’re still interested,” she tells him timidly.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll text you,” he nods with a small smile.

He’s surprised to see her rock up onto her toes and press her lips to his, and he kisses back for a brief second before she pulls away and gets into the cab beside them. He waves her off once she’s safely inside, and exhales heavily as he watches the cab drive away. Well he didn’t completely fuck it up, which is something he supposes, but he can’t help but think how weird it is that she gets so uncomfortable by male attention, and how reserved she seems to be regarding anything physical.

As Dean begins his walk home he wonders if maybe she’s had a bad experience in the past, or maybe she has no experience at all. She is only twenty one, so it’s not a far cry that she could still be a virgin, and it would make sense why she seems closed off about things. But Dean also can’t help but feel like there’s something she’s not told him yet, like there’s a part of her he’s yet to see, and he wonders if that has anything to do with it.

Dean sighs as he grabs a fresh beer from his fridge and begrudgingly heads towards his bedroom alone, thinking about his high hopes earlier that evening when he was leaving his bedroom, freshly showered and dressed for his date with Y/N, excited by the prospect of her coming back to his place with him. He’d even changed the bedsheets, and sprayed a lot of air freshener around the place. He’d tidied up and made sure there were condoms in his nightstand, and he’d even been out and bought the wine she had ordered the last two times they’d been on dates before. Dean had even gone as far as to not deal with the issue that arose in the shower when thinking about Y/N and what their evening might entail. He didn’t want to waste it on the shower floor, after all.

So now, understandably, he’s a little pent up.

He grabs his laptop as he heads into his bedroom and slumps down onto his bed, taking a swig of beer as he opens up the computer and spurs it to life. Like muscle memory he loads the internet and types in the first few letters of his favourite site, his laptop already filling in the blanks and all he has to do is press enter to be taken there.

Placing his beer down on the nightstand, Dean clears his throat and ensures he’s a little more comfortable in his place as he scrolls the homepage looking at the featured video thumbnails until something sticks out to him. And something finally does. Not his usual type, judging by the title of the video, but there’s something about the glimpse of the girl in the thumbnail that’s appealing to him tonight.

Summer Swallows coerced by Step-Daddy when mother leaves town

Dean’s never really been one to choose this kind of thing, but maybe he’s getting too bored of his regular entertainment, anyway. Maybe it’s about time he spiced things up a little. He clears his throat and readjusts himself once more, clicking play and watching the titles play out. Already bored, he cuts to five or so minutes in, glad it’s the trimmed version and not the full forty minute version the site is advertising if you pay for it. It cuts to an upshot of the man’s face, twisted, his lip caught between his teeth as he groans and stares down his body, and then the camera cuts to the girl playing his step-daughter, on her knees and pleasing him with her mouth, and Dean sits up straight, his eyes widening as he blindly fumbles for his cell on the nightstand and pauses the video right there on her face.

“Sammy?” he chokes out. “You won’t believe what I’ve just found.”

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pink-sparkly-witch · 2 months

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I had the absolute pleasure of “helping” and giving encouraging words to @princessmisery666 on this fic.

It’s angsty but it’s good!

💖

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Hey, hi,” you answer.

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

“You okay?”

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”

“They seem like a good bunch.”

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.”

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”

“Good for them.”

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door.

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

A/N: Part 2 is technically done but without knowing how part 3 is going to end I'm not posting it, so for now this is a one shot.

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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#fic rec #not mine #princessmisery666 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean winchester angst

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pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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Thank you, sweet pea ☺️💖

The One That Got Away - Chapter Thirteen

Warnings: tw: child abuse, tw: physical abuse, tw: mentions of fire, tw: minor character death, tw: funeral, insecurities, self-doubt, a little fluff.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: There are TRIGGER WARNINGS in this part - please heed these, and if you think you’ll be affected by any of them, please do not read.

You can catch up here!

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The fire in the abandoned warehouse had kept Dean and his crew out all night, only finally getting it under control as the sun broke out over the horizon. Arriving back at the firehouse, weary and covered in soot and sweat, Dean felt his insecurities take hold again.

“Captain, a word?” Bobby grumbled.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean replied, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his tone. “I’ll hang my gear up and be right in.”

Knocking on the door, Dean leaned against its frame and waited for permission to enter the Chief’s office. He couldn’t have stood up straight if he wanted to. His muscles were screaming at him from battling the warehouse inferno.

“Come in, and close the door behind you,” Bobby grunted, looking as tired as Dean felt.

“What’s up, Chief?” Dean said as he sat across the desk from his boss and mentor.

“Good job at the warehouse, Dean. You and your team did great tonight.” Bobby’s words of praise were scarce. His actions usually spoke louder than he did, so he meant it whenever he voiced how good of a job had been done.

“Thank you. I’ll pass that on to the crew. They’ll appreciate hearing that.”

“I also wanted to say that the paperwork can wait a while. The relief crew will have a lot of work to do to make the structure safe or have it condemned. It’s likely to roll into the next shift, so go home, eat, sleep, and come in tomorrow at some point and file your initial report,” Bobby said.

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll check in with everyone and make sure they’re good. A few bumps and scrapes happened in there, and I wanna make sure no one needs medical attention.”

“You’re a great captain, Dean, and it won’t be long until you’re sitting in this chair,” Bobby nodded his head to gesture at the seat he was sitting on. “And you’ll have my full backing.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean shifted forward in his seat and sighed. “I hate to ask, but I haven’t heard from Y/N since we had our date the other night. Is she okay?”

The second the words were out of his mouth, and he saw Bobby’s face pale, he knew his insecurities were correct. He knew his second chance with her was over. He could feel it. She’d gone back to Chicago.

“She didn’t tell you?” Bobby’s voice was much softer than Dean had ever heard it before.

“Tell me what?” Dean asked, trying to stay calm and not let his emotions show.

“Danny passed away the night before last,” Bobby said solemnly.

Dean felt like the worst person in the world, questioning why she hadn’t called or contacted him when she was dealing with who knows what.

“She got a call from the hospice not long after you dropped her home. She went straight there and stayed with him until he died. I’m sorry, Dean. I thought you knew.”

“No, I had no idea,” Dean ran a hand down his face and huffed out a sigh. “How is she?” Before Bobby could answer, Dean’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “It’s Y/N.”

Y/N Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner. My father passed away and I’ve been getting things arranged. I’ll call you in a couple of days when things calm down a little xx

Dean Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do or anything you need, call me xx

“You’ll be there for her, won’t you, son?” Bobby asked, and Dean didn’t hesitate with his answer.

“Of course. Whatever she needs. Anything. Everything. Always.”

“Thank you. You were always her go-to person. She always relied on you and trusted you. I doubt that’s changed, and I’m worried she’ll take it harder than we think,” Bobby cleared his throat to rid himself of the building emotion.

“Now go home, Captain. Get some rest and check in on our girl.

The call from the hospice came almost immediately after Y/N had read the goodnight text from Dean. She’d rushed straight there when they told her father wouldn’t last the night.

When she arrived, Y/N was ushered straight to his room, and as she saw her father for the first time in twelve years, she felt sorry for him. He was a shadow of the man she knew back then, looking years older than he was and much frailer than she could’ve ever imagined.

“Y/N?” her father’s hoarse voice made her heart stop, but she fought with everything she had not to flinch or show him any fear. She’d shown enough weakness to this man and would be damned if the last thing he saw was her fear.

He holds no power over you. Not anymore. Repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. When she believed it, she took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.

“I’m so sorry, pumpkin,” her father said, holding his hand out. “For everything.”

Y/N sat in the chair next to the bed and took his hand. She didn’t want to speak to him, so she remained silent. She knew she’d never forgive herself for letting her father die without a small piece of comfort. Even if he was a monster, no one deserved to die alone.

It was the same reason she’d come at all. She knew the guilt would haunt her for the rest of her life if she hadn’t been there and at least tried to get the closure she needed.

Neither spoke and as her father took his last shaky breath, Y/N silently accepted his apology and cried tears of relief that it was finally over. She could forget all about him and move on with her life.

“Y/N?” Bobby’s concerned voice answered her late-night call.

“He’s gone.”

The next few days went past in a blur. Y/N had organised the funeral, not bothering to pass around the details, knowing no one but she would attend. She’d also hired a company to clear out his house and lawyers to deal with everything else. It’d be a cold day in Hell before she’d step foot on the street she grew up on, never mind the house.

Once the lawyers had checked the house for paperwork and anything of value, the clearing company was instructed to get rid of everything. She’d already taken some of her mom’s jewellery when she left for Chicago; it was all she’d wanted, and that wouldn’t change now, so why trawl through it all?

Standing alone at the freshly dug grave, Y/N listened to the birds singing more than the minister's prayer. She’d lost any faith in a god when her father broke her arm for the third time.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Dean. Hey,” Y/N couldn’t hide her shock that he knew the date of the funeral, let alone came. “What are you doing here?”

“You have no idea what I had to do to find out when and where this was!” he chuckled softly. “I’m here for you and only you, Princess. Not him. We all are,” Dean said as he held his hand out for her to take if she wanted to. She did, weaving her fingers through his.

“We?” she asked as she squeezed his hand gently. Dean tilted his head to the side, indicating she should look behind her.

Turning, Y/N saw Bobby, Jody, John, and Mary hanging back by the trees. “You didn’t need to come,” Y/N smiled softly at the group before turning to face forwards again.

“We came for you,” Dean reiterated.

“I’m here for me, too. I wasn’t going to, but you know, closure.”

“How are you holding up?” Dean asked, his eyes on the dirt being thrown into the grave.

“Am I a terrible person if I say I’m good?”

“No.” Dean’s answer was instant. “I think it’s completely understandable. That man put you through hell, and now he’s gone. You can rest easy now, sweetheart.”

“He apologised,” Y/N said, and Dean stayed silent. He knew her, knew she wasn’t finished and was replaying the memory again before voicing it aloud.

“His last words, just as I got to him, were, ‘I’m so sorry, pumpkin. For everything.’ I wasn’t expecting it, and I didn’t expect to feel so much relief at hearing him say it, you know? It’s like the final validation that it wasn’t my fault.”

“C’mere,” Dean whispered, pulling her into a desperately needed and comforting hug.

Dean kissed her forehead as he pulled back slightly and smiled softly. “Are you ready to go, or do you need some time?”

“No, I think I’m good.” Y/N sighed deeply and turned her back on her parent’s graves, possibly, she thought, for the last time.

Her mom’s grave was a place Y/N went to a lot when she was a kid when she missed her mom or needed to get out of the house. Whenever she visited, she’d tell her everything about her life and what was going on, but she knew that now her father was resting next to her, it wouldn’t bring her the same kind of peace it once had.

Dean followed her home and insisted he stay with her for a few hours. She’d probably never admit it, but she was grateful for that. There were a lot of emotions swirling around her and wanting to be felt, and she didn’t know what was up and what was down with it all.

They ordered pizza and drank some beers, and Dean listened when she wanted to talk and stayed silent when she withdrew into her thoughts. He stayed close enough to place a comforting hand on her thigh or on her shoulder or take her hand, but not close enough that he smothered her.

Dean made sure she was okay before leaving her apartment later that night. If he was honest, he only left her because they both had early shifts the next day, and she insisted she was fine. He promised to call her in a few days to arrange their next date and made her promise to call him if she needed him, and reluctantly went home.

Y/N went back to work the day after the funeral, not feeling the need to take any more time off than necessary. She certainly wasn’t grieving, so there really wasn’t any point in taking bereavement leave from the hospital.

Everything felt surreal but in a good way. The last time she remembered sleeping so well was when she last slept in Dean’s arms. She felt lighter than ever, and the weight that used to lay heavily on her shoulders had lifted. It was strange to have become so used to the tension and the tightness in her body that she didn’t even know it was there. It felt like she’d lost 100 lbs, and it made her giddy.

When her shift was over, and she got her cell phone out of her locker, the number of texts waiting to be read filled her chest with warmth. And as Y/N read through all of her family and friends messages that were just checking in, she felt loved and cared for.

Coming home might have been the best decision she’d ever made.

Next Chapter >>

#comment reblog #the one that got away #firefighter!dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #firefighter!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #tw: child abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: verbal abuse #tw: alcoholism

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pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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Aww, thank you gorgeous 🥹💖

The One That Got Away - Chapter Eleven

Warnings: angst, language, fluff.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this, so all mistakes are mine.

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“Are you only here until your father goes, or are you back for good?” Dean asked, and Y/N bit her lip and furrowed her brow.

“It depends,” she finally responded.

“On what?”

“If you and I can be okay,” Y/N said, deciding complete honesty was the best way to handle this, and lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m not expecting things to go back to how they were, De. Too much time has passed for that, but I’d like us to try to be friends again. But I also need to be completely honest and tell you I never got over you.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, just listen,” she begged, “you read my letter, and you know I had some unhealthy coping methods. I’ve only had one serious relationship since I left, which ended when I turned down his proposal three years ago. He told me that he loved me, but I was emotionally unavailable, and he couldn’t stay with someone who couldn’t love him the way he loved them,” Y/N explained.

“When I finally started dating again after that, I always sabotaged it before it could get serious. That was when I knew I would never let anyone in the way I did you, and I’d never get over you. I understand this is a lot, and I get that you might not feel the same, but if you want to try and be us again, awesome. If you want to try and be friends again, great,” she paused and took a deep breath, licked her lips before speaking again. “But if you don’t want me here… if me being here hurts you, and we can’t fix things between us, I can’t stay because I can’t be this close to you and not be part of your life. It’ll kill me.”

There it was. Everything Y/N needed him to know before they made any decisions on their future. This was where her heart lay, shield and armour down, vulnerability showing as she laid her cards on the table and bared her soul to him.

Now it was his turn.

“Y/N, I…” Dean began, grabbing her hands and smiling softly as her watery eyes found his. “I never stopped loving you. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. None of them would be you. Not even close. Every day since you left, I have regretted not asking you to stay or coming with you. Even now, having read your letter and knowing it was the best thing for us, I still regret it. I hate that making that decision meant I couldn’t comfort you after the nightmares or stop you from drinking away your pain. The sex thing? Well, I’m just pissed that I missed out on what sounds like it could’ve been some kinky shit!” Dean joked, chuckling as Y/N threw her head back with laughter.

“But,” he continued, “seeing you now, your smile reaching your eyes, the constant pain and sadness in them gone, and the confidence you’ve gained. It makes me realise that as much as I will always hate myself for letting you leave… letting you go… it was the right thing to do because you and I wouldn’t be where we are. You…”

Dean swallowed hard, hating even the thought of what could’ve been. “You would be living your life completely in my shadow, or I would be in prison, and you probably wouldn’t be here at all,” Dean said, wiping away the tears falling down his cheeks.

“I know, Dean,” Y/N smiled sadly. “It broke my heart, and I won’t pretend otherwise, but it was the right thing for us to do. Please forgive yourself for that. I do. We needed to grow on our own. I had to learn to protect myself and not rely on you to fight my battles. I had to learn to take care of myself for once, to put myself first and fix myself. I might have taken the wrong path once or twice, but I righted myself and am incredibly proud of who I’ve become.”

“Seeing you at the hospital and tonight, I love who you’ve become, and I can’t wait to get to know her better. I would be honoured if, once I’m fully healed, you’ll let me take you out to dinner so I can continue to get to know you again,” Dean smiled, anxiously awaiting her response.

“I’d like that,” Y/N smiled bashfully.

“Just so we’re clear, I mean as a date,” Dean grinned.

“A date?” she questioned, “Dean, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am, Princess. I meant it when I said I never stopped loving you. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I wanna get to know you again. Try us again. So… what d’ya say? A fresh start?” Dean grinned at her bashful giggle before she lowered her eyes and looked at him through her lashes. His breath caught in his throat as he was taken back to their teenage years when she looked at him like that often.

“A fresh start would be perfect,” Y/N smiled as Dean’s face broke into a joyous grin.

“But,” she continued, and Dean’s smile faded slightly. “I think this has probably been enough excitement for you on your first night out of the hospital, so I’m gonna go home and let you rest,” Y/N smiled softly.

“Come on, sweetheart! I just got you back,” Dean protested, and she chuckled.

“Dean, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep in your seat!” Y/N reached her hand out to cup his cheek and smiled fondly as he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

“You’ve got my number now. You can call or text me anytime. I’m heading into four night shifts, so please don’t think I’m ignoring you if I don’t reply right away.”

Dean nodded in appreciation that she’d thought to tell him that. If he had texted or called her and she didn’t answer, he would overthink everything and convince himself that she’d changed her mind about starting over.

“Alright, you win,” he pulled back reluctantly. “I’ll call you in a few days, and maybe we can arrange that date?” Dean smirked, and she giggled.

“I thought we were waiting for you to be fully healed?” Y/N teased.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I will be,” Dean replied.

“Still cocky, I see,” Y/N smirked and leaned forward, kissing Dean's cheek. Standing from the chair, she put her jacket on and slung her purse over her shoulder.

“No, don’t get up,” she protested as he moved to stand. “I can see myself out.”

“You will not. I’m walking you out,” Dean grunted as he stood, the pain in his chest throbbing after sitting idle for so long. One glance at Y/N had him roll his eyes at the ‘I told you so’ look on her face.

“Look, I was gonna have to get up anyway to lock the door behind you and go to bed. I might as well do it now and make sure you get to your car okay at the same time.” Dean opened the door for her and leaned against it.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that, can I?” Y/N chuckled.

“Nope,” Dean said, popping the p.

“Goodnight, Captain Winchester.”

“Goodnight, Nurse Singer.”

The next few weeks passed in the blink of an eye. To everyone’s surprise, Dean had done what the doctor told him and taken it easy until Dr Clark cleared him to return to work. Bobby had put him on light duties on his first shift back, which he’d hated at first, but about sixteen hours into a twenty-four-hour shift, he was grateful that he had it that little bit easier after being out of the game for four weeks.

Y/N had adjusted to life back in Lawrence well. She was in a good routine with work and had stopped taking as many overtime shifts as she had when she first came back. She filled her days off, reconnecting with family and friends and making plans with the new friends she’d made since her return.

They’d kept in regular contact, texting and calling every day. She’d been to his place a few more times in the past few weeks, always, she insisted, to help him around the house or to make sure he ate a decent home-cooked meal. Dean didn’t complain because he got to spend all this extra time with her.

Y/N’s impromptu visits were filled with remembering the old days and catching up with everything that had been and gone since they’d last seen each other. Their disastrous dating lives had them in tears of laughter, and the stories of her time before therapy had them in tears of despair.

They knew these conversations needed to be had, and if Y/N was honest, she’d much rather they have them before they tried their fresh start. If they waited until they were officially dating before having the difficult conversations and Dean changed his mind about wanting a second chance, wanting her, she knew she wouldn’t survive his rejection.

After several heart-to-heart conversations and everything Y/N had gone through in her first few years in Chicago aired to Dean, the relief she felt that he still wanted to go on a date with her took her by surprise. It made her realise just how much he, and this second chance, truly meant to her.

It was overwhelming because her entire future depended on things working out between them. Y/N meant what she said, if Dean didn’t want her, she couldn’t stay in Lawrence, not even as his friend, because it would kill her. There would always be doors open for her in Chicago, and she knew that, but she was done running.

Next Chapter >>

120 notes · View notes

pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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Couldn’t have said this better myself.

A little bit louder for those in the back: your silence is killing creatives desires to create.

Serious question, do we have to comment on the stories we reblog?

I always reblog all The stories is my favorite writers but i never comment

I reblog because I love the story and want to share

As a reader my question is

Do we have to comment if we’re already reblogged it?

I just always been curious

I hope you don’t take this as rude because it’s not meant to be I’m very curious I just feel bad that some of my favorite writers feel unappreciated.

No one "has to" do anything. Readers don't "have to" comment, but likewise, writers don't "have to" share their stories with you, either.

For starters, I just feel like giving feedback on a fic you enjoy is polite and common courtesy. I'm struggling to find ways to word this that might be better understood that hasn't already been put out there a million times before.

The only comparison I can think of right now is that we think of us posting our stories as gifts to you – and please don't take that as me saying that our stories are so amazing they are a 'gift' – I just mean that we put time and effort into something and even if we're not totally and completely happy with it, we give it to you anyway hoping you'll like and appreciate it. Would you consider not saying thank you or not saying something positive about a gift if someone physically handed you one? Any decent person would at least say "thank you!" and if they like it, "I really like it!/I love it/ Oh my god this is so nice!" ... you get the idea.

We're obviously not expecting a "thank you" but a comment even as simple as "I liked this" shows us that our time and effort (Which the majority of writers on here are giving for free alongside real jobs, families, school etc) is appreciated.

I know that it might only take a reader 5-20 mins to read a story, but that story could've taken the writer hours/days/weeks/years to write.

The best way I can separate out the difference between likes, reblogs and comments is this:

Likes - The bare minimum interaction you could give to show your support. Some people (myself included) use these as bookmarks and not an actual way of providing feedback.

Reblogs - Sharing the thing you enjoyed with your followers, helping to spread it further than the OP's pool of followers. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely to have your work spread further, but without a comment, it's hard to know why someone has reblogged it. (Again, some people use reblogs as bookmarks too)

Comments - Little flecks of magical dust that will almost definitely inspire the creator to create more of the thing you loved!

I myself, and I know many other writers, have relied heavily on comments to complete a fic, or to start a new one. I had a series on hiatus for over a year, and I received one comment on it along the lines of "I love this, I can't wait for the next update" and it inspired me enough to finish the entire fic that week! THAT is what commenting is capable of that likes and reblogs aren't.

So no, you don't "have to" comment or reblog or even 'like' something, but likewise, us creators don't "have to" keep posting our creations out into a void, either.

#lack of interaction #lack of feedback is killing the fandom #writer problems #please comment

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pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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This breaks my heart. Not only because Bee is my friend, but she’s also a phenomenally talented writer.

Unfortunately, I can see this happening more and more as creatives continue to battle for more than a handful of people telling them that what they’ve created is good. That they enjoyed reading their fic, or looking at their fanart.

Readers: if you enjoy the content someone posts, please comment and tell them that. Your comment might be the thing that helps a writer finish that story they’ve been torturing themselves with for two years. Or for your favourite artist to draw fifty more pictures just like that one you love.

I promise, you’re not annoying us and I guarantee we care about what you have to say.

I’m begging you, we’re dying here. And soon, there won’t be any good creatives left on this Hellsite. Or anywhere. Because it’s not worth it.

As Bee says, we’re creating for you.

If we’re not getting energy back from you, we’ll stop using ours to create.

Update on my Website/Tumblr/Discord etc.

I recently made an announcement on my website at the beginning of the month regarding the future of my writing and I just wanted to share it here too.

Engagement has been really low for a while (maybe a couple of years or more), and while I've done everything I can to try and not let it bother me, or increase it with feedback forms etc, and I've tried to be honest with you all about how it makes me feel, when there's no change there comes a point when you're just too tired to fight anymore. I force myself to write content for you guys, and I have lost my passion for posting my writing which I never wanted.

The only reason my website/Tumblr are still active is because

A) I have prewritten content that's currently posting

and

B) I'm currently out of work and rely on the money my website provides me.

So all that being said, I just wanted to be completely honest with you and let you know that I've made the decision to shut down my website/Tumblr/Discord as soon as I've found work. This could be next month or several months down the line, it's unclear yet.

But I'll be sure to keep you updated and I promise I won't leave any stories incomplete when the time does come for me to shut it all down.

Bee x

#writer problems #lack of feedback and interaction is killing creators #please comment #we love hearing what you thought of our hard work

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pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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READERS: YOUR SILENCE IS KILLING US. DON’T BE SURPRISED WHEN THERE’S NO FANFIC WRITERS LEFT.

IT TAKES LESS THAN A MINUTE TO REBLOG OR COMMENT.

No one reblogs on tumblr anymore.

No one leaves comments on Ao3 anymore.

Seriously people the lack of fandom interaction these days makes me genuinely depressed, it never used to be like this, makes me wonder what's the point of coming online to do anything anymore.

Reblog a post so other people can see it.

Leave a comment so the author doesn't feel like giving up.

Fandom cannot live on Likes or Kudos alone.

#writer problems #please comment #please reblog

19K notes · View notes

pink-sparkly-witch · 3 months

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Highly recommend this mini series written by my girl @negans-lucille-tblr

This is such an angsty, unique story that I loved ever second of!